"…and not for five minutes will I be distracted from the wonder…"

Parade Eve

Uncategorized — d-ashes on March 19, 2005 at 11:52 am

I’ve been going to shows @ Martin’s for 8/9 years and last night I saw my best one ever. The Album Leaf
completely blew me away. You just don’t get to see many ‘indie-electro’
bands in Jackson and it was cool to see a 4 man band with keyboards and
laptops in front of 3 of them, though they each played analog
instruments at some point also. The songs, off the new album In a Safe Place,
were fantastic. Composed of delicate melodies and intricate rhythms
(both sampled and live), you could definitely hear the influence of Sigur Ros and Mum, whom Jimmy LaValle recorded the album with in their studio
in Iceland. And while I sometimes consider video shows that accompany
live bands a distraction to make up for music that is a bit to mild for
a live performance, The Album Leaf’s video show melded nicely with the music and was a good compliment.

I
got to talk with most of the band after the show and they were quite
polite. Jimmy LaValle gave me the lowdown on some of his favorite music
venues in Reykjavik though he said the place is so small and has so
many good bands that you’ve really got to work to not see good music
while you’re there.

For
as good as the show was, it was book ended by some disgusting displays of
malice, violence, ignorance and drunken stupidity on the part of some
of the jackasses that come out of the wood work for today’s St. Paddy’s
Day Parade and clog all my friend’s and my favorite local haunts.

When
I arrived for the show at Martin’s I parked between the Pearl Street
overpass and the Old Capitol to avoid what was certainly a cluster fuck
on the portion of Commerce Street not yet closed for parade
festivities. There was a fence up but it was 11:15 or so and I was
pretty sure any official function was over so I just slipped through
the fence to cross Commerce and head in to Martin’s.

No sooner
am I through the fence and I’m accosted by what I can only politely
describe as a highly effeminate and intoxicated elf (the guy couldn’t
have been over 5 feet tall) and a car wreck of a woman in the standard
trailer trash garb that the occasion warrants (though she didn’t really
look like she was dressing down). The guy completely flew off the
handle, said he was security and demanded five bucks. A quick once over
showed he was wearing a shirt that did say security and had some sort
of official looking badge hanging from a lanyard around his neck, but
his demeanor certainly wasn’t that of a security guard. I figured,
though, that if there was still a party going on under the tent on
Commerce and I’d jumped the fence that what the hell, I’ll just pay 5
bucks and no problem. He and the woman were getting quite belligerent
and I was in a hurry to make sure I wasn’t missing any of the band so I
gave the guy 5 bucks, told him he was acting like a bitch and hurried
on over to Martin’s.

Once I actually got to the tent, though, I
realized there was absolutely nothing going on there and I think ‘Fuck,
that little shit head and his fag hag friend hustled me.’ I’m pissed,
but it’s just 5 bucks, and I don’t want to miss the band, so I try to
forget about it. I get into Martin’s and the opening band hasn’t even
started yet, so with some time to kill I figure I’ll go find this guy
and get my money back. I’m still not 100% sure he’s not some type of
event security so when I find him (and he’s sitting at the same spot
waiting for someone else to do the same thing I did) I take the
calm/collected approach and tell him I’m not trying to cause a scene
but he took 5 bucks from me to admit me into NOTHING. He gets quite
defensive and says ‘Come on, we’re going to talk to secuity’. Which is
fine by me, but also confirms to me that he isn’t security at all. So
we walk down the long elevated sidewalk that fronts Hal and Mals. But
instead of heading for the sheriff’s deputy at the front of the tent he
and his bitch friend turn into the Red Room, trying to ditch me. So I
follow him and tell him I’m going to get a cop, though I’m really not
planning on it, while he’s trying to put people between him and me.

So
again I say what the hell, it’s 5 bucks, the guys an ass, and I’m not
going to let him ruin my night and I’m worried again that the band is
getting ready to start. So I head BACK over to Martin’s, once again
trying to forget about the whole thing and kicking myself for not
paying more attention to the fact that the guy obviously wasn’t a
security guard to begin with. Back in the bar the band still
hasn’t started yet and though I’m beginning to get over the whole
thing, I’m kind of bored, so I figure I’ll at least see if I can fuck
with the guy some more, if only to kill some time. On my back across
Commerce Street I run into Charlie, the guy that runs Hal and Mals, who is standing around talking to a sheriff’s deputy. I
tell him that there’s some guy posing as a security guard taking money
from people and he doesn’t like it one bit. I describe the guy and
Charlie goes off to look for him. I stick around talking to the
sheriff’s deputy and he’s pretty bent out of shape about this guy as
well, as he was the guy guarding the fence I’d walked through and he’d
quit watching it at 9:30 when the street party had ended.

Charlie had been gone for 5 minutes or so and I figured he’d found something
more important to deal with so I ask the deputy that if I can point the
guy out will he give him a talking to? His response is ‘Hell no, I’ll
arrest him’. I tell him I’m not sure if I’m worried about all that, or
even getting my money back. At this point it’s just principles and the
fact that I don’t want this guy doing this to other people. As I turn
around to head to the Red Room to look for the guy, whaddaya know, I
see him right in front of me, some forty feet away, with his pink
pleather jacket clad, over made up bimbo buying beer from Jane Halpert
at one of the beer stations still open under the tent. So I point him
out and the deputy is on him in a flash. I figured I’d give him a
minute to talk to the elf alone so I stand there next to the hag with this
very large grin on my face and ask her ever so politely if I can buy
her a beer, sarcasm dripping from my fangs, at the same time noticing
that her jacket is emblazoned with a ‘Raspberry Queens’ logo. She’d
turned white and couldn’t really say much (and was kind of wobbling
also) so I headed over to join the deputy and my little elf friend.

With
the deputy on his case the guy’s turned into a whining, drunk midget
bitch and was trying to convince the deputy that logic dictates that I should
pay $5 as a penalty for jumping the fence even though the party was over and
there is no admittance fee. The deputy asks him who he works for and he
doesn’t have an answer, I get my money back and the deputy takes the
elf with him. So whaddaya know, the system actually works for you
sometimes.

A little poking around on Google today turned up
that the ‘Raspberry Queens’ are a SPQ Wanna-Be chapter from Maumelle,
Arkansas, so I was dealing with some tried and true hustlin’ rednecks for
sure.

From there on out I watched one Ole Miss frat boy after
another, so drunk they could hardly talk or stand, take lunging steps
through Martin’s shoving anyone in their path out of the way and
threatening to fight anyone who took offense. During The Album Leaf’s
encore Robert Anderson kicked one guy out of the front of Martin’s,
pushing him past the band, who was in full gear. Once Robert had gone
back to the bar the guy came back in and called a friend of his on his
phone about coming to meet him to ‘come kick some fucking nigger’s
ass’. This part he repeated a lot, and loudly. Loud enough that I heard
him over the band and so did the guitarist, who caught me glaring at
the guy and looked at me like ‘what kind of people are you’? I
apologized to him after the show, telling him we’ve got a plethora of
assholes down here. Jimmy LaValle laughed it off, saying, ‘Well, it’s a
bar’ but I felt embarrassed nonetheless.

After
the show I found
Jason Bronson, who was into the first 2 hours of his official 30th
birthday celebration. Martin’s was getting ugly, to the point that
Robert Arender wasn’t even comfortable, so Jason and I
high-tailed it out of there, passing a continuance of the fight that had
gotten the ‘yelling racial slur repeatedly into phone’ fellow thrown
out to begin with. We headed back to Bronson’s place, in the second
floor of the ‘The Dorm’ and listened to records, talked about his work
at
the PW and toasted his birthday til about 4 in the morning, which
included a listening of Neil Young’s On the Beach on vinyl, which I will maintain is the way it was meant to be heard.

And
I think that was enough St. Paddy’s Day for me this year and maybe for a while
more. I’m beginning to realize why a number of New Orlean’s
residents leave town during Mardi Gras. The things is, there is still an air
of gentility to most over drinkers in New Orleans. Not so in Jackson.
For every person with sense who takes the oppurtunity presented by the St.
Paddy’s Day Parade’s carnival atmosphere to act like a redneck
for a day, there seem to be 5 rednecks who consider it a license to act
like even bigger rednecks than they already are.

So I’m somewhat thrilled
that I have to work during the parade and will trade that mid-morning
drunken revelry for sitting alone in LemCom writing code and listening
to tunes. It will be odd to be out in Jackson @ 7 pm on parade day and
be a good 8 or 9 hours behind everyone else’s imbibing. I’m
probably going to skip going downtown altogether until late late and
instead go to the Pink Palace for what is likely the last crew
sanctioned party there. Canada and Tina are likely buying a house only
a block away from where Graham and I live and Duck is moving to
Atlanta, so the Palace’s run of being under friendly control will
likely end at 8 years. We’ll definitely send her out in style.

Oh, the beer I bought with my returned money? Delicious. There’s nothing like the taste of Budweiser AND justice.

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