Now that we are pretty much settled and
on routine, we again are understanding what Opening Act means.
No, I'm not going to start complaining; I am full aware of the blessing and abundance in which I stand.
Why dey still treats culud folk so po'? (relatively speaking of course)
Realizing that we are here for two
months, it's reasonable to allow that the producers of this venture
endeavor to house and to feed us, let's say... frugally. Then I begin to see the obscene opulence around us and wonder...
Can I get a room with a damn bathtub or a friggin boiled egg for breakfast?
The way I figure it, what The Sporting Club raked in just from ticket sales to Celine Dion's second night
paid for our entire band's two month contract sixty times over! Yes, I did the math.
(please now read the 1966 Reader's Digest article entitled, "Why Negroes Riot")
OK, enough of that; now, to the report:
The Motown Revue-
Think back to the time of blue lights in the basement, wall to wall soul, Gypsy Rose wine and no air conditioning...
Well, them days is over!
While the Motown Revue ensemble did invoke memories of our own adolescence, the paradigm, understandably, has changed.
Most of this new crop of, "soul singers", haven't yet reached thirty! Even as they've done some homework,
have been prepped well by their senior advisors and have performed laudably - I'll put it this way:
Have you ever gone to a museum and viewed a diorama of a stone age family in their primitive surroundings?
HEY, THEY'RE NOT REAL CAVE PEOPLE!!!
We, nevertheless, became friends with our L.A. proteges and even hung out the next day, telling them good ol' days stories.
Latin America Night-
One of four soiree events that we will encounter this season, we actually concluded the evening with our performance,
rather than having opened for a celebrity act. Unfortunately for us, the Latin gala went an hour overtime, forcing us to
begin our dance segment soon after midnight. Additionally, we made the mistake of coloring our performance with clave and montuno,
giving rise to raucous ovation and numerous Latin requests. Thank goodness I'm an honorary Cuban, my recollections of Orchestra Broadway,
Joe Cuba, The Courso, Larry Harlow, Symphony Sid and THE BOAT RIDE served us well into the wee hours of that full moon morning.
We certainly learned our lesson: When you speak the language, you gotta stay for breakfast!
Something of an unknown in the States, this young lady has amassed a formidable following in Europe, singing Euro-folksy renditions in both
English and French, and featuring an eclectic, acoustic backing band, fronted by a fiddler.
(I don't use that term disparagingly; I consider a fiddler a stylist/violinist detached from a traditional string section)
An acoustic guitarist herself, Katie brings to mind one of those interesting performers whose act concludes one of the late night talk shows
and wakes you up before you go to bed.
Lord have us mercy; the inmates have taken over the asylum! In the second soiree of the season, we once again provided dance music
for the after-party. This amalgamation of the super rich reminded me of an upper class Star Wars Bar Scene. With AIG senior officers
representing every earthly nationality (I do believe that they all were human) these folks danced on everything but the beat.
We cheerfully went with the flow until one of the revelers actually mounted the stage with a handwritten request for (gulp) Y.M.C.A.
The request went unheeded and the requester went missing.
Jusqu'a la prochaine fois!
Fino alla prossima volta!