Baggage, beer, bbq and bands
After landing, I took the long walk from the gate to baggage claim. Even though I had not checked any bags, it was the easiest place for Jacque to pick me up. The corridors were lined with colorful African art and down the center were large sculptures. I like this new idea of airports as destinations in and of themselves. The process of flying can be a very unpleasant task and adding these little touches of art and comfort can ease the pain just a bit.
Once outside, I bummed a smoke from a Marine and started up a conversation with a woman about how quickly the security threat level had been raised to orange. This happened sometime when I was in the air and just before she got on her flight into Atlanta. Security tried to get her to check her diabetes medication because the packaging did not meet the (yet again) changed restrictions. What, you can take a cigarette lighter on the plane now, but not insulin?
Our conversation was cut short as Jacque pulled up to the curb. I quickly threw my bags in the back and we were off. Soon I would remember something about Atlanta that struck me many years ago on my last visit. This place is huge. Simply put, it is essential for everyone to have a car to survive. My life in the shadows of NYC often shields me from ultra-dependency on a car. The drive did give us a chance to catch up. The last time we met was at WE Fest in North Carolina and we really didn’t get to know each other then.
Arriving at the house I was greeted by Gidget, a sweet, beautiful Black Lab/Carolina Dingo mix. She had the prettiest face and deepest dark eyes. Her breeding added to her short, stocky build and black color. She would quickly become my best friend for the weekend, waking me to chase hummingbirds or just for a pet on the belly. For now, Jacque, Gidget and I sat out in their large backyard, drank some cold beer and talked about lost pets and the impact they had on our lives.
Soon it was time for dinner at Fat Matt’s Rib Shack. This casual joint for BBQ and live blues has been an Atlanta favorite since 1990. We were a little too early for the music, but just in time for a half slab/half bird messy portion of pure bliss. I was so engrossed in my animalistic feasting that at one point the waitress thought I was done and when she tried to take my plate, I literally growled at her. I said, “You’d better hope your hand tastes as good as this chicken.” And we all laughed.
Tonight’s festivities were taking place at The Drunken Unicorn (736 Ponce De Leon Ave NE). Once we found the parking lot and pulled in, we proceeded to try and find the entrance to the club itself. It’s located underneath another club called MCQ, but you can’t get in that way for some reason. Once we found the back door where the bands were loading in I joked, “I thought we were gonna need a sherpa to help find our way in.” Once inside, my eyes immediately caught sight of a ‘clueLess’ sticker. I snapped a crappy picture with my phone and sent it to my buddy Nelson back in NJ. It’s his band, but they never played here.
After gazing at the large mural homage to punk and glam pioneers on one wall, we grabbed a few drinks in the back bar, sitting on metal barstools and listening to ‘Sister Christian’. I already know I’m not a fan of eighties hair ballads, but I’m not quite sure how I feel about metal barstools. I got to know Jacque’s friends and Other Sound staffers Jen and Jamie. Jen and I joked about how large quantities of Pabst Blue Ribbon often brings moments of brilliance and danger. Although both are often forgotten with the inevitable hangover the next morning.
I can’t imagine what damages are brought on by the free 20 oz. cans of Colt 45. I noticed a cute girl at the bar order one and asked, “Why would you get a Colt 45?” She slurred back to me, “‘Cuz it’s free.” I looked at her, then the beer and said, “Nope, not even for free,” and went ahead ordering my Jack and Cokes which were mixed just right. By this time the bands had started in the front room. Clubs splitting into two is not unusual, but I prefer places that pump the stage sound throughout rather than having equally loud but different music in each place.
The first band up was Envie. Theirs was an interestingly heavy sound for a band with a full-size concert harp. It’s also a sound that comes from an eclectic background that infuses a classical aesthetic with a pop/rock sensibility. Next up was Mary O’ who I’ve seen at WE Fest. Her sweet songs tell stories of life and love. Her backing band includes Other Sound organizer Kim Ware on drums. And her bassist Michelle Freidman gave me what I think is the sweetest photo moment of the festival. You’ll know it when you see it.
The tone of the night changed to a more ruckus, old-school rock n roll with Pistolero. These guys were great and looked like they were having a lot of fun. And that is the key to any good performance if you ask me. Closing the night was Moresight who changed their name to Howlies after the show. Southern revival meets quirky rock meets costumes and energy. This was a true crowd pleaser and a fantastic way to end the first night of music. My friend Nina’s flight was late and she finally made it to the bar after a train and cab ride from the airport just as the music ended.
After it was over, we all went back into the bar area which had filled up considerably. It seems at a certain point in the night a floodgate of sorts opens spilling all kinds of all-age characters from the upstairs club. The music changes to loud dance, not that there would be any room to move. I did get the chance to meet Atlanta musician and producer Brian Slusher and his girlfriend Salima. Brian’s band Slushco and played at WE Fest and was one of those delights I caught completely by accident.
The night ended with Jacque, Nina and I back at the house, sipping cold beer and sucking down nearly an entire bag of potato chips. Without going into gross details … I’d pay for that in the morning.
