magilla

I just got back from New Orleans, and it was great. I was out at the last day of Jazz Fest and saw Steel Pulse, Terence Blanchard, the Neville Brothers, and ended up with Pete Fountain. The guy was born in 1930 and was taught be people who played with King Oliver and Bix Biederbecke. The pre-bop jazz he plays would be a museum piece if played by anyone else, but played by him it is the living and contemporary jazz of his youth. It was exciting. After wards, waiting for a cab in a near by park, we heard a drum and bugle corps made up of local youth. It was the best part of the fest. FInally, Monday evening we heard a local band call the Flying Magoos, who were fronted by a man with a great froggy voice, and a woman who dripped charisma, sang, and played the saxophone.

While the music was great, I'll never go back. "Why?" you may ask. Three little words, DIRTY STINKING HIPPIES. If I ever have to be in a place with that much B.O, petchouli, and tie dye again, I'm shoving tampons up my nose and blinding myself. They really disgust me.