Fun with Shows that Begin after 2am

Most of us returned to the apartment in varying states. Some were merely sunburnt. Others were fried in different ways. Still others were well rested and eager to go out. I had elements of all these. We settled at the apartment and were already planning our next course of action for a little while. Jeff "Haceadic" Herlihey, had arrived. He was another character from the Famouth crew. I could sense that he was already in the mood to make up for lost time. He had rented a car that needed to be dropped off at the casino. This afforded the avid gambling junkies a chance to practice their craft. It benefited me too since I offered moral support at the roulette wheel in return for the free drinks and occasional moving Dixie land bands that was libels to parade through a stuffed casino. I was able to come across a ticket for the show at Tipitini's. The bill said that the Dirty Dozen Brass Band was to be playing with friends. Although seeing them was always a treat the small size of the venue made it a must. Additionally there was the chance that a remarkable guest could take the stage with them. Eventually we made the journey back towards the French Quarter. Inside Tipitini's the Wyld Magnolias were getting warmed up. They were billed as the set opener, and played a pretty standard brand of jazz. It couldn't be described as having any particular leaning, which was different than some of the other music that seemed a fusion of styles (Jazz, funk, rock, reggae). Their brass was solid, but the visual aides that stood out. They played with dancers dressed in what seemed like a cross between tribal Indian garb and a Las Vegas showgirl feather dress. It added a nice element to the hypnotic rhythms that the brass created. They played extremely well and I could feel enlightened by the sense that the spirit of jazz had fully taken over myself as well. Seeing generations of local musicians, celebrating this very underated festival, made me realize that Jazz ran in the Psyche of people native to this area, in a way almost reminiscent of Jung's theory of a collective unconscious. The Captain and I did not want to ware out too soon. I made it a point to chase my Bud-lights with water. It seemed however that the set could not be ready soon enough. Through random chance we ended up striking a conversation with us this woman from Boulder (Nancy Lieberman of Boulder). Her rapid talking and look of jaw muscle over-stimulation led me to believe that she rolling off of some Molly pez. I was able to escape her web of frantic speech for a little while. My motivations were somewhat genuine. I took a seat near the wall and ended up talking to Jason Riddi (Austin, TX). He had talked about the Sanger Theatre, where the String Cheese Incident was playing that night. He had mentioned seeing Oysterhead (Trey Anastasio, Les Claypool, Stewart Copeland) at the same theatre last year. Like me he was at the least a bit unsettled about the Wyld Magnolias feathered dancers.

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