Dave Alpert: I Know Where You’re Going with That

It seems that summertime means flip-flops, and in turn, flip-flops incur more obnoxious Dave Alpert rants.  I’d like to thank Ellen for inciting this one.

I’m not going to go into all of the reasons I can’t stand them.  If you’re interested you can go here, find additional links and take a walk down blog memory lane.  Now, this just in from one of my most trusted health information sources, the NY Daily News: flip-flops can kill you!

Flip-flopping reporters          Source: NY Daily News   Xanthos/News

DIE YOU EVIL FLIP-FLOP WEARERS!!!

So, the other day, I was rushing to leave the house for a show at Toad.  I did all those things you do when you’re rushing to leave the house: grabbed a drink from the fridge, started cleaning up Anzalone’s week-old newspapers, packed up my guitar and stuff for the gig, took out the garbage.  I jumped in my car and realized I didn’t have my sunglasses.  I thought I must have left them on the bed.  I didn’t want to bother to go back in.  After all, it was already 6:30pm and I still had to go pick up Rob.

Monday morning, the sun was shining bright, there was a crisp breeze and I was itching to leave the house.  But first I had to locate my sunglasses.  I looked in all the likely spots: on the bed, on the coffee table, in the kitchen, on my desk.  No sunglasses. 

I raised the alert level to orange.  I tossed my cell with the expertise of a prison guard.  Tore apart my livingroom like a DEA agent on a raid.  I rifled through garbage cans.  Then it occurred to me that one of the last things I did before I left was to take out the garbage and it was garbage day!  I ran out to discover that the truck had already come by and the barrel was so clean, it looked like they had washed it out as well.  The prescription sunglasses were lost forever and I had to resign myself to a lifetime of squinting.

This morning–Saturday, an entire week later–I was scanning the fridge for something cold to drink.  Something strange caught my eye.  There, in the butter keeper of the refrigerator, were my glasses–just chillin’.  Nice.

Badass.

As I’ve discussed previously, flip-flops are beachwear.  I’m not a big fan of seeing them in the city, never mind on stage–a little too casual, a little too I don’t give a shit.  In fact, flip-flops made my infamous “Top 10 Signs You’re at a Folk Show in Cambridge” list that I published last year at this time. That is why, this year, the August blog gods decided to play a sick and twisted practical joke on me. 

Last night, I played a show at my home-away-from-home music club (and watering hole), Toad.  I played a fun solo set that allowed me to play all kinds of songs that I don’t play with band, including Melvern Taylor’s “Working Stiff”.  For the next set, I brought on Mariana, Rob and Mark for a blistering rock set.  The late act was the John Powhida show, including special guest, rock star Nash Kato of the band Urge Overkill. 

Here is Nash rocking out on stage:

Note: the rock sunglasses, corpse-like physique and bad-boy 12-string Ovation guitar.  And now note this:

NOOOOOOOOOoooooooooo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

(I hear the blog gods laughing at me still.)

As I have mentioned before, Espresso Royale Caffe in Boston–now separated from the original midwestern chain–is my favorite coffee destination.  In fact, I used to spend so much time at the cafe, I even once received mail there!  Since being acquired by Bagel Rising mogul Larry Margulies a few years back, and expertly managed into submission by GM Chris Dadey, the cafes have continuously improved in terms of service, atmosphere and product offerings. Their challenge, however, was to notch up the quality of their coffee.  While the expert baristas always did what they could with the coffee varieties and roasts available to them, the quality of the coffee itself was mediocre at best.  But July 2009 marked a decided move to offer the highest quality coffees available.  And who are the big winners?  We, the coffee drinking public!

The first big move occurred when Margulies bought the stores and started offering Bagel Rising bagels and signature sandwiches.  Next, they started offering both dairy and vegan pastry goodies from the Allston Cafe (which broke away from the Herrell’s chain in June) and now from Leo’s Bakery.

Then, there was the coffee, Jim’s Organic Coffee.  While Jim’s wasn’t horrible coffee, neither was it the stuff of world-class cafes.  I had suggested ERC to coffee aficionado friends in the past, all of whom gave the coffee poor marks.  Being coffee lovers themselves, I guess the ERC management agreed and severed ties with Jim’s this month (with some rumored drama which allegedly involved a physical altercation with Jim himself). 

I am happy to report that they chose their new coffee suppliers wisely.  Their espresso beans now come from Barismo of Arlington, MA and their coffees from Atomic Cafe Coffee Roasters of Beverly, MA.  So far, all the coffees and espresso drinks I have tried have been more complex, robust and consistently flavorful and not bitter.  Kudos to them (and woe is me, as I expect my caffeine intake will reach toxic levels in the coming months).

I highly recommend visiting one of their 3 convenient locations (286 Newbury St, 44 Gainsborough St near Northeastern or 736 Comm Ave near BU).

I was walking down Boyston St, crossing Mass Ave in Boston, and saw the fog rolling across the skyline.  Here’s a shot of the Pru I took with my phone…

As I continued down the street, I passed by Boston Fire Station Engine 33 (also know as “Hollywood” by other firefighters because the firemen sit in front of the station and watch all the decked out girls walk by in the summer). 

The guys at that station definitely have fun.  Some of you may recall the story I told about the time I walked into the middle of a practical joke there and got soaked by someone pouring a bucket of water out a window on the head of one of the firemen who was making announcements.  Today, as I walked by, some of the firemen were flirting with 2 young ladies, and they were all looking up at the skyline.  I heard one of them say, “Heah that Joe, can’t even see the HanCOCK.  That’s what she said.”  You really couldn’t.

As a kid growing up in Hull, MA, in addition to the Ice Cream trucks bringing delightful treats to us kids, there was this older Jewish man who roamed the beach with garbage bags full of cheap clothing (bringing delightful treats to all the old ladies).  Nathan got his name because a shmate is a rag or something useless in Yiddish.  Anyway, he would walk up to groups on the beach and start pulling stuff out of his bags.  The women would start to haggle.  It was like a game in which they would try to get the best deals possible.  Everyone seemed to win.

Back then, I took for granted how COOL that was.  It was like a bit of the old country in 1980.  Before e-commerce sites,  craigslist and dollar stores there was a real merchant bringing cheap goods to the people.  You could come back from the beach with a tan AND a pair of socks.  Ah, simpler times

I would have told this guy he had toilet paper sticking out of the back of his pants, but I was too busy looking for my phone so I could snap a picture.  Then I thought: it kind of suits him…

A few months back, I attended a show that was organized by Dave Godowsky.  Dave is a singer/songwriter who also plays in the Guns-N-Roses tribute band, Mr. Brownstone.  After a particularly sentimental set, where the regulars at the bar were being shooshed by the singer’s adoring fans, he turned to me and said, “OK. We’re gonna play some rock.”  I said, “So, people can talk?”  He replied, “That’s the definition of rock.” 

I saw Dave again last night–at a folk show–and he helped add to my little list.  So… without further ado…

Top 10 Signs You’re at a Folk Show in Cambridge:

10 - Everyone on stage (and in the audience) is wearing flip-flops.

9 - No one is swearing.

8 - No one is drinking.

7 - Lots of people are wearing hats …that were popular in the first half of the last century.

6 - CDs go for $15 instead of the standard $10 …but the covers are custom printed on brown sandwich bags.

5 - The singer just sang, “I want to graze on you” and no one (except for you) seems to care.

4 - Too much talkin’, not enough rockin’!

3 - The lead singer just introduced a song with, “Well, it’s wedding season again” and no one tried to beat him up.

2 - Everyone is really excited that the guy from Rounder showed up.

1 - And one word: Sssshhhhhhh!!!!!

I admit it: I hate tattoos.  I don’t have any; I don’t plan on getting any; I don’t even like looking at them.  Maybe it’s because when I was a little kid growing up in Hull, MA, the only people with tattoos were war veterans, ex-cons, bikers and bikers’ girlfriends.  In the 80s, rock stars were just starting to sport them. 

Now, it seems like everyone is sleaved up with Tony The Tiger stripes or maps of the Cambodian jungle or sayings in foreign languages they don’t even know to be accurate–and could very well say something inane like, “The wash closet is down the hall. Don’t clog the toilet.”

Maybe it’s because I was raised Jewish.  In general, Jews believe that we’re God’s creations and have no right to deface one of his/her human creations.  I’m not a religious man, however, so this is really not my reason.  It’s more that during World War II, the Nazis tattooed Jewish prisoners both out of disrespect and to keep better track of all the Jews they were killing.  In fact, they used tabulation machines created by IBM to keep accurate counts.

I guess I just think that if within 100 years, an army uses tattoos to try and break your spirit and more effectively kill you, well, “in the parlance of our times”: Too soon!

Another reason I don’t like them is because I think the human body is beautiful–one of the most beautiful works of art ever created.  And I didn’t create me.  My dad has more of a right to tattoo me than I do.  Choosing to tattoo your body is like taking a Sharpie and drawing a moustache on the Mona Lisa because you think it will look cooler.

In the US, suicide is illegal.  I assume it is part of the same “I’m not my own property” argument.  I can’t kill myself, but I can vandalize myself.  Go figure.  I’m standing firm; I remain pure as the driven snow.

Update 7/28: I may not be right about the whole “suicide is illegal” thing.  Still, no tattoos!

Yup.  Rob is at it again.  Last time, he was beard growing on whiskerino.org.  This time, he’s moustache growing on MoustacheMay.com.  God help us all!

Catch him at a show sporting a molestache in the near future.  That moustache is gonna help the band ROCK!