Wednesday, March 23, 2011

memoir

One night we had piano, trombone, and accordion, and played Christmas carols with a Sousa rhythm, and the time we had piano, harmonica, and cello we pulled off some passable variations on folk songs. That must have been the night that the hot shot city newspaper critic was slumming at the bar, because we managed to sing most of the choruses and sounded almost together on the downbeats. We still weren't a band, but the critic either had a spiteful sense of humor or incredibly bad taste, because the roadhouse was written up in the travel section, and special mention was made to the "effervescent qualities of the deconstructed and reimagined organic talents of the freshest bluegrass group this side of Appalachia, The House Band."

reading
finally finished Nightingale Wood / Stella Gibbons

weather
well, taxes are done, one day it might deign to be spring