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

Some months ago, I met a fellow musician named Dan.  He explained that he’d been a street musician in Switzerland, and that he’d just returned to the states after more than two decades.  Apparently, his gimmick was that he was a one-man band with a truck that acted as his multi-instrument noisemaker.  He described it as a sight to be seen.  According to Dan, after years of success, his truck was confiscated by the Swiss government, and without his money machine, he had no choice but to return to the US.

So, I was delighted to spy him on Newbury Street yesterday with, well, a slightly more compact version of his old getup.

Look at that kid. He’s mesmerized. Dan uses pedals and a stick, which he uses to hit both the guitar and percussion instruments.  He sings through a headset attached to an on-board PA.  And all those stuffed animals dance around to the beat of his kick drum.  As for the performance, he puts on a show that makes kids bouncy and gleeful–and moms part with their money.  Cool.

As I was walking down the alley between Boylston Street and Newbury, I heard screams.  On Gloucester St, I found dozens of half-naked santas, elves, and reindeer running down the street.  I captured them–as well as my finger–in these photos…

HAPPY HOLIDAYS BOSTON!!!

Scene: Chris and Dave finish a song and a large Irishman approaches the stage with a piece of paper.

Irishman: Can you play the Plains of Kildare?

Chris: No.

Irishman: But this is an Irish bar.

Chris: But I’m Itailan and he’s Jewish.

Scene: Irishman rolls his eyes and walks away

Dave (in mic): An Italian and a Jew playing at an Irish bar… TROUBLE!

Scene: Dave and Chris play A New England by Billy Bragg

THE END 

Upcoming
The next chance to heckle this dynamic duo will be the first 3 Sundays in December at Toad in Cambridge, MA.  We’ll be playing with the full band, including Chuck Vath filling in on bass and backing vocals.  All shows begin at 8pm, right after Sunday Spins. No cover.  So, come early, spin some vinyl and hear us ROCK!

Earlier today, I discovered this gem of a billboard ad on my way home from the Arsenal Mall in Watertown, MA:

It’s awesome.  I couldn’t have said it better myself.  In fact, I think my friends should all donate their pets to medical science.  It constantly amazes me how passionate people are about animals. We eat them; we keep them as pets; we feed them to other animals; take them from their natural habitat; displace them; hunt them; and we kill them.  Still, people claim to love them. 

Actually, my favorite kind of people are pet owning vegetarians.  “I won’t eat one or kill one, but I’ll make one live in my house, eat from a plastic bowl, and walk around with a collar around its neck.  Awesome.  You are so close to having a point! 

I understand the arguments: we’ve been doing it for ages.  Dogs have been domesticated since 15,000 bc and cats since about 7,500 bc.  They rely on humans. And they “love us”.  Here’s my favorite: “my pet is like a member of the family”.  You see.  I’ll tell you another human tradition that reaches back thousands of years: SLAVERY.  And just because we’ve been doing it since the beginning of time, doesn’t make it right.  Freedom is freedom.  I think that encouraging the breeding of species of animals because they are hardcoded to “not be free” is no excuse.  According to the wikipedia article, “Greek philosophers such as Aristotle accepted the theory of natural slavery, that is, that some men are slaves by nature.”  Sounds pretty much the same to me.

So, what do you say?  Do the world of favor.  Let’s make a commitment to free the world of domesticated animals.  I understand: if you just free them, they’ll die.  So, you might as well free them at the doorstep of an animal research lab.   

FREEDOM!  FREEDOM!  FREEDOM!!!

Festivals in Somerville and Cambridge, MA are generally a really fun hang.  This year, I missed Honk! Fest in Davis Square  on Saturday but managed to make it out to Oktoberfest in Harvard Sq on Sunday, October 11.  Being at Oktoberfest made me regret missing Honk!.  Fortunately, many of the same artists were performing there as well, so I did manage to catch a few bands.  Unfortunately, in general, Oktoberfest was a mess of parents pushing around crying babies, overpriced felafel sandwiches and cheesy beer gardens that were policed like federal prisons.

Here’s a shot from Church St and Mass Ave:

That big pink tent on the left is a Dunkin Donuts truck doling out free samples of coffee drinks and then a Nantucket Nectars stand, so between the two, I got a little “juiced up”.  The scene was mainly people selling shit with a few political activists sprinkled in for good measure.  There were some street performers like pogo stick daredevils and stilt-walkers as well. 

Strangely, I ran into a friend at the local coffee shop on Saturday who asked if I was going to Honk!  Not sure, I asked if he was going.  He told me he was torn because last year, when he was broken up with his girlfriend, she ran off and slept with a stilt-walker.  Every time I passed one of them in the crowd, I couldn’t help but wonder if it was the guy.

Honk! bands are self-described as “activist street bands”.  You can read more about them here.  Anyway, here’s one of the Honk! bands I saw:

I think this band is called Minor Mishap Marching Band, but since their uniform is pretty close to that of the band before them called the Yellow Hat Band (in the background), it was a little hard to tell.  This was a “minor mishap”, however.  Both bands were a lot of fun.

Later that night, I stopped into the Burren in Davis Sq to see my buddy Tim play in his Americana Session.  If you’ve never checked it out, they play every Sunday from 7:30-9:30pm in the front room.  It is very laid back, a fun hang–and free.  In any event, this Minor Mishap band member wandered in at one point and sat in with the band:

I heart this town!

Isn’t it funny that the same people that frown on fellow Americans that eat at McDonald’s and other American style eateries in foreign lands feel like they’ve found the “real deal” when they eat ethnic foods at restaurants in this country where there are lots of people of that origin in the room?  Why don’t they go up to them and say, “Hey!  You can eat this shit any day of the week.  Why don’t you go out and explore?! Maybe go out and get yourself some cheeseburgers or fried chicken!!!

Ah, we Americans are such self-haters!

First off, I’d like to thank everyone for their contributions to yesterday’s discussion.  Here in Boston, we love to talk about driving in the city, and we take great joy in using the word “douche”.

I’m proud to say that between the post and comments, we managed to use the word “douche” 67 times at the time of writing this.  While I’m particularly happy about my own contributions to the English language–”douche lane” and “douchecraft”–there were many more uses of the word that entered my lexicon for the first time. (Thanks to Margaret Ann for teaching me the word “neologism“.)  Here were a few of my favorites:

douche zone
douchetastic
douche-curtain
douchette
douchewaffles

“Douchebaggery” is not one of my favorites, but it should get honorable mention here as it is thrown around a lot in the Dig and in many Boston-area blogs.  It seemed to have crashed into Boston’s blogosphere a few years back, and the word appears to have some legs.   

I look forward to sharing more of my rants (with you douchebags) soon.

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 know that many of you will point out that this is a known fact and that I’m not going out on a limb.  But, I do have to say: baristas are friggin’ annoying.  And some of my close friends and rehearsal space mates are in the biz.

You see, in a restaurant, the food is the show.  In a bar, alcohol and interesting conversation make up the show.  And in a cafe, caffeine, free WiFi and hanging out with friends contitute the show.  Unfortunately, baristas are under the impression that they are the show and that their job entails overpowering cafes with their annoying inside jokes, outbursts, and philosophies on life, love and biking.  It’s like the cafe is their Greek theater and they must compensate for the lack of microphones by projecting even personal conversations as if they were monologues sung loudly by the chorus. 

I get it: you’re all musicians, artist and actors, and you long for attention and being at center stage.  Me, too.  But, I just paid over $2 for a cup of coffee.  Can you just shut up so I can hear myself think?!

About a month ago, one of my roommates, the mighty Lou Ulrich, played a show at The Foundation Room, a members-only club attached to the House of Blues on Lansdowne St in Boston.  His band was able to bring a number of guests to the club, so the party could really be hopping–and so the members would have more beautiful people to look at.  So, of course, Vanessa, Josh Buckley and I made the scene.

Here are Josh and Vanessa, sitting in a room strangely pimped out in Hindu art:

On one end of the room was a huge golden statue of Nataraja (”Lord of the Dance”), a dipiction of the Hindu god, Shiva, balancing on the back of what I thought was a baby, but turns out to be a demon dwarf symbolizing ignorance.  Either way, it was a pretty creepy looking statue.  Here’s a similar one from the Wikipedia page:

I think if I ever become rich (or even just not dirt poor), I am gonna get me a membership and show up wearing a smoking jacket or one like this:

Ah, now that would be the life…