Little Red Shed
Monday, November 26, 2012
Wee City
I had wee bits of free time this weekend, just enough to complete a wee city skyline of 12x5 inches.
Friday, November 16, 2012
The Cabooze (and The Joint)
The Reverend Horton Heat was my favorite band (still love um, I'm just too old now for the gymnastics of a mosh pit). They're from Dallas, Texas and combine, deliciously, the world of punk and rockabilly (now referred to as "Psychobilly"). The Rev introduced me to this entirely knew genre of music one winter night in 1989 or 1990, at Minneapolis music club, The Cabooze. I know that show took place in the winter because the band arrived late having been slowed by a blizzard as they made way through the Dakotas. Just a few riffs in and I was hooked, for life. I have probably seen the Reverend play 30 times, in five cities, and two countries. And it all started at the Cabooze.
Similar happenings also occurred at The Cabooze with funk legend, George Clinton, and his 20 or so band members. Saw them several times, but I saw them first in 1991 at the Cabooze. I fell in love (so to speak, not literally) with surf music and surf guitar god, Dick Dale, at The Cabooze around the same time, I've seen him many times since. I was there for Bo Diddley and his legendary square guitar, saw him shred the Cabooze stage in grand fashion.
In related lore, one day a couple years ago, a coworker and I made plans to see Gypsy punk band, Gogol Bordello, play a bar, The Triple Rock Social Club, just down the street from The Cabooze. When trying to decide when and where to meet up before the show, the conversation between the two of us went something like this:
me: "Where should we meet up tonight?"
friend: "Let's just meet at the joint"
me: "The joint. You mean the bar, The Joint?"
friend: "Yeah, yeah, let's meet at the joint, 7 o'clock."
me: "OK, so we'll meet at The Joint, 7 o'clock, and then we'll just walk down to the show from there?"
friend: "yeah, sounds good."
Well, in classic Laurel and Hardy fashion, my friend is not originally from Minnesota, and he did not know then that a mere 3 blocks from The Triple Rock Social Club, and adjacent to The Cabooze, sits perhaps Minnesota's proudest biker bar, The Joint. (See where this is going?) I sat by myself at The Joint, swilling beer nervously from a can, wondering where my friend was. He wasn't answering the repeated phone calls I placed, PROBABLY BECAUSE HE COULD NOT HEAR IT RING OVER THE LOUD PUNK BAND PERFORMING WHERE HE WAS, three blocks away at The Triple Rock Social Club (you know, "the joint." "We'll just meet at the joint"). I finished my beer and went home.
Now in glass, it took forever, done on a large old storm window (36"x54"). The Cabooze and The Joint, two Minneapolis classics, now included in The Dive Bar Series.
Similar happenings also occurred at The Cabooze with funk legend, George Clinton, and his 20 or so band members. Saw them several times, but I saw them first in 1991 at the Cabooze. I fell in love (so to speak, not literally) with surf music and surf guitar god, Dick Dale, at The Cabooze around the same time, I've seen him many times since. I was there for Bo Diddley and his legendary square guitar, saw him shred the Cabooze stage in grand fashion.
In related lore, one day a couple years ago, a coworker and I made plans to see Gypsy punk band, Gogol Bordello, play a bar, The Triple Rock Social Club, just down the street from The Cabooze. When trying to decide when and where to meet up before the show, the conversation between the two of us went something like this:
me: "Where should we meet up tonight?"
friend: "Let's just meet at the joint"
me: "The joint. You mean the bar, The Joint?"
friend: "Yeah, yeah, let's meet at the joint, 7 o'clock."
me: "OK, so we'll meet at The Joint, 7 o'clock, and then we'll just walk down to the show from there?"
friend: "yeah, sounds good."
Well, in classic Laurel and Hardy fashion, my friend is not originally from Minnesota, and he did not know then that a mere 3 blocks from The Triple Rock Social Club, and adjacent to The Cabooze, sits perhaps Minnesota's proudest biker bar, The Joint. (See where this is going?) I sat by myself at The Joint, swilling beer nervously from a can, wondering where my friend was. He wasn't answering the repeated phone calls I placed, PROBABLY BECAUSE HE COULD NOT HEAR IT RING OVER THE LOUD PUNK BAND PERFORMING WHERE HE WAS, three blocks away at The Triple Rock Social Club (you know, "the joint." "We'll just meet at the joint"). I finished my beer and went home.
Now in glass, it took forever, done on a large old storm window (36"x54"). The Cabooze and The Joint, two Minneapolis classics, now included in The Dive Bar Series.
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