your favorite artist of all-time performing his or her best material
that you’ve never seen live before. That’s what I got last night when Talib Kweli and Hi-Tek nearly tore through the entire Reflection Eternal disc, Train of Thought; I had more blood rushing through me than when I got my debut blow job back in eighth grade.
It was a long day before I got to Kweli at the Scoot Inn – and to the afterparty at the Red Bull Moon Tower
in the middle of absolutely nowhere. I ate lots of barbecue and even
nearly shat my pants; but it was beyond worth it – I’m considering
adopting grandchildren just so I can tell them about my adventures.
it turns out, brisket goes well with junky music. I won’t call anyone
out (though I bet Brodeur will), but the sounds penetrating my skull
while I grubbed baked beans and free potato salad at the SoHo Lounge nearly forced the barbecue right out the other side.
you have a minute, shed a tear for lonely guys who strum guitars on
corners and belt heartfelt lyrics; they’re the only ones who care about
their feelings – kind of like Britney Spears . . . YAK BALLZ, LADY SOV, AND MORE AFTER THE JUMP
I might not always land on my feet, but face first in a pile of fine ass ain’t a bad place to be.
You can call it dumb luck. While my flight from Palm Beach was supposed to layover in Houston before re-routing to the heart of SXSW, there was too much fog to touch down. So we stopped in Austin, and some dude with one of those sweet moving staircases helped me off.