SHARING THE SHOWS
My shows seem to be happening in waves of late. Two shows in one weekend, a two-week break, another show, a three-week break, a show one weekend, a show the following weekend, two shows the following weekend… I had heard about Galactic but had never seen them. They sound like a total spacey, psychedelic, magic carpet ride a la Steppenwolf or The Byrds. But they’re a high-energy, high-steppin’ New-Orleans style jazz romp, perfect for St. Patrick’s Day weekend. After a Saturday filled with grading and research (last week’s conference revitalized that aspect of Craig), I hopped the H2 bus to the Columbia Heights Best Buy to return an adapter I didn’t need. Only a fifteen-minute wait for it, but have mercy, I felt like I was waitin’ for the bus all day! I hadn’t spent much time in Columbia Heights, a heavily Latinx section of DC. But I had a mission: authentic El Salvadorian food, and I found it in a place called La Molienda, which resembled a dive bar, but had a pupusa with queso that rocked my taste buds and a bastimento (a grilled steak) that made them dance. Ademas, pude practicar mi espanol con una camerera y un patron en el restaurant (translation: also, I got to practice my Spanish with a waitress and a customer in the restaurant). I walked off that food on the way to the Columbia Heights metro and took the Yellow Line a stop to U Street, where I was transplanted back to my 20s. The neighborhood was hopping with youngins sporting their green garb, most of whom had obviously been day drinking since dawn. I developed a wistful smile and a feeling of nostalgia watching them. I’m not meant for that type of debauchery anymore, but it was fun while it lasted. Once in the club, I made sure to have the ticket-taker scan my Friends with Benefits QR Code so I can work toward my free concert tic (God Bless Pete for turning me onto that). Earned almost forty points for attending the show and for getting two diet cokes. The opening act was an energetic brass group out of Chicago called Low Down Dirty Brass Band, which had some nice hip-hop influence. The singer had people waving their hands and practicing certain dance steps, a la the Macarena or the Electric Slide (the latter of which my uncoordinated body just never could grasp, which may be why I choose to engage in that loosey-goosey, Dead-informed dancing as opposed to any type of dance that involves structure). During the setbreak, I refilled my Diet Coke at the bar and started chatting with a gentleman named Jason Amatucci, who had been involved in the production of Widespread Panic’s classic, Panic in the Streets, during which over 100,000 Spreadheads lined the streets of Athens, Georgia to celebrate the release of Light Fuse, Get Away, their first-ever live album and one of my first listening experiences with them. Galactic took the stage at a little after 7:30 (I love when shows start on time). The singer, Anjelika “Jelly” Joseph, has a boisterous energy, and although I only knew one song, “Right On,” I still boogied hard, and throughout the night, found myself inching closer and closer to the stage. They closed their set with the Led Zeppelin classic, “Nobody’s Fault But Mine,” and the show ended at 9. As an introvert who loves concerts, I have to say this: every band should start at 6 and end at 9.
I enjoyed the Metro ride home, including the frenzied, hops-fueled conversation between a group of twenty-something young women, one who had a bunch of shamrocks painted on her face. I also was recognized by a student of mine, whose name I couldn’t place thanks to the fact we’re all wearing masks in the classroom. Out in the wild, unmasked, I can’t quite place students. Upon my return home, I picked up a personal pizza (the exercise that comes with dancing really works up the appetite, no matter what I’ve eaten) and some treats for Chester. I winded down by continuing with Season Five of Married with Children (I still find it hilarious despite the lack of PC). All in all, a great night. Again, all bands should start at 6 and end at 9.
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May 2024
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