Sprung a Golden Grammy..
Spring? Is it really you? Could it be the easter bunny? Or have I finally knocked something loose? It seems nearly everyone got smacked with a beyotch of a winter this time around. Everyone, that is, except California, where the koalas laze in the sun any damn time they please, year-round. In fountains of Ciroc. But toughing out the occasional “hard” freezes (ow, my plants!), dustings of snow (look at my filthy filthy snowman!), or sheets of ice on the road (sheet! sheet! ice, mang! slow down pendejo!), it’s worth it to get slipped an early glimpse of the pink glistening nipple of Spring herself, blowing a kiss that sends the leaves of Autumn Past skittering like Skeksis. If you’re too young to get the reference, you’re not old enough to be trying to get all sexy with me in “anonymous” games of Words With Friends, so that should weed out some of the “competition.” Your feeble little Generation tXt minds couldn’t think of where to put an apostrophe if it was dick-shaped and made of chocolate, much less count to eleven without taking off your damn pants, so don’t get all huffy and accuse me of cheating when I score a double triple-word on your ass with “tentacle.” Resign all you want, or stick around and get spanked. Either way, I’ll sleep on a pile of your sweet sweet losses. Except for you, GasMaskBeauty. Your kung fu is strong. The saga continues..
In the meantime, I’ve been out on the road with Graham Reynolds, Utah Hamrick, and a van with a freaking piano in it, spreading the news of the Golden Arm Trio release of DUKE! Portraits of Ellington, available on Amazon, iTunes, and anywhere respectable music is sold. A quickie to the east coast was a swirl of horns, food porn, and cocktail orgies. And all the rumors I heard as a child were really true; there is FREE PORN on NYC hotel TVs. Channel 69. St Marks Hotel. Lower East Side. Best in tha freakin’ city.. But seriously folks, we had a blast. We took in history (Duchamp exhibit, Rocky statue, Washington’s office, Stonewall’s headquarters, Alamo Draft House in Winchester VA, Liberty Bell), we drank the finest of libations (Milk & Honey, Draft House, Mayhuelo) and ate like kings (Veselka, H&H and Sullivan Bakeries, Morimoto). Thanks to everyone that came out and for those in Austin, keep an eye on the gigs calendar for a few upcoming appearances with the mighty Graham Reynolds. West Coast, we’re coming to make sure your shit’s up to code in June. At least we know the porn will be fresh..
Lastly, I’d like to give a quick shoutout to my kinfolk with Grupo Fantasma, who after 10 years of hard work and a tour schedule that just don’t quit, brought home a Grammy. I’ve still not heard as to whether they each get one or if I get some sort of keychain model for my service in the “trench years,” back when a poor white child had to bang on snares without bottom heads, only the chaffest of cowbells, and another bottom-headless drum simply referred to as “the Grupo drum,” to help create what would grow from a rugged gang of “Young Silly Bitches” into a wandering street gang with instruments, enforcing the fundamental law and right of enjoyment and celebration through music. It’s been years since I’ve been in the band, but getting on stage at the recent 10 year reunion show and now this Grammy, it’s really enough to make all that shit I have to hear with the “what, you’re not married yet? do you even have a girlfriend? you’d make such a great dad!” and other such mess slide off even faster than usual. You see, I don’t need no kids. I don’t need to see what I’d look like if I “didn’t eat so much cake.” I adopted some nice young boys from Laredo back in ’96. Or rather, they adopted me. And now those nice young boys are grown men, many fathers, some of them in very tight silk shirts and Sheila E microphones but still, all kicking ass and bringing home something we couldn’t have dreamed of if you jerked us out of our sweaty summer days of jamming at the Manor House and pumped us full of mescaline.. Not that a few of us would have complained or lacked for trying, but those were different days and Laredo was a different place. Kinda..
So a tip of the hat to my boys. From keggers to Prince, Austin City Limits, a Grammy, and beyond. Wherever you are, Ash Corea, I hope you are smiling. For Brian, Wolfie, Alex, Rudy, JoJo, Lobel, Q, Gibas, Abuelo, Lou, Johnny, Toe, those fuckin’ new guys, Phrog, Mimi, Jaime, Ceci, Lilly, The Laredo Bucks, um.. Sammy The House, Bambi, AireSol Records, my Granny, all of you that were there from the beginning.. the haters, all of you. Thanks. We couldn’t have done it without you.
(cane pulls me off stage to exit music, curtain falls on head, security roughs me up)