33 Things I Know

Tomorrow I turn 33.

At this point in my life I don’t know everything there is to know- I only know some things. Things you know are absolute- they are facts as far as you are concerned. They are bases of discussion, conversation starters, conversation enders, and possibly points of contention. But ultimately they are simply enough, just the things you know.

Here are 33 things I know as of today, the day before I turn 33.

1. I know you can’t beat flip flops when it comes to foot wear.

2. I know the Red Sox will always be the team I care about the most, although this has been less rigid in the past couple years- with the Patriots & Celtics sneaking in there.

3. I know the difference between a $15 haircut and a $25 haircut.

4. I know the Wire is my favorite television show of all time. Arrested Development is second and the Office (prior to season 7) is third. Notable mentions are Lost, Madmen, Seinfeld and It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia. In the next couple years I could see Boardwalk Empire and/or Game of Thrones cracking that list.

5. I know the best hat I ever owned was a green fitted Michigan State hat.

6. I know that after a while, you can get sick of drinking only water.

7. I know that the only state not on an ocean I could live in is Colorado.

8. I know the best job I ever had was being a deckhand at Casco Bay Lines.

9. I know I will always look fondly upon Isuzu Troopers.

10. I know I prefer black ink to blue ink, but I’m not entirely sure why.

11. I know that I really came to appreciate the city of Philadelphia.

12. I know my favorite baseball player of all time is Ryne Sandberg.

13. I know that I never thought I’d have a nickname with more staying power than Burns.

14. I know Life cereal will always be the best cereal there is and if you mix it with Honey Nut Cheerios, it’s a work of art.

15. I know beer tastes best in a cold bottle.

16. I know that sporting a handlebar moustache makes me look angry and troubled, regardless of what my mouth is doing.

17. I know the five best concerts I’ve been to are (in no particular order):
- Pearl Jam at the Spectrum in Philly
- My Morning Jacket at the Mann Center in Philly
- Phish’s midnight set on 1/1/00 at Big Cypress Indian Reservation in Florida
- U2 at the old Foxboro Stadium in Mansfield, Mass
- From Good Homes at the Recher Theater in Towson, Maryland

18. I know that life got easier when I stopped caring what everyone else thought.

19. I know that mix tapes are better than mix CD’s.

20. I know I wish I was five inches taller.

21. I know 75 to 83 degrees and sunny is where it’s at.

22. I know playing music for people is one of the best feelings there is.

23. I know Goucher College might not be for everybody, but it was for me and I have no regrets.

24. I know I actually do have one regret about Goucher and it’s that I wish I had done a semester abroad. I really wouldn’t have missed as much as I thought I would.

25. I know that at weddings I drink Gin & Tonics.

26. I know my favorite place I’ve been to in California is San Diego.

27. I know that someday I want to go to Europe and do the following: fly to London, travel to Ireland and then over to Scotland, then on to Norway & Sweden, followed by taking a boat to Poland, the Czech Republic, Germany, Holland, France, Portugal, Spain and finally taking another boat to Italy. If Greece was included, that’d be dope. But if not, it’s not a deal breaker.

28. I know that I can’t wait to have a dog.

29. I know that for me, coffee just does a job. Taste is secondary.

30. I know Portland, Maine is the greatest place in the world July through October.

31. I know that my next vehicle will be a SUV or a truck. Cars aren’t for me.

32. I know patience isn’t my strong point, but everyday I’m working on it.

33. I know I’m a lucky dude because I met Kim and I had to be lucky for that to happen.

That’s what I know.

Go Pats.

Stone Rollin on a Moderately Sluggish Wednesday

20 Songs to start a Moderately Sluggish Wednesday:
1. "Tenderness"- Galactic
2. "Howlin’ for You"- the Black Keys
3. "How to Undress in Front of Your Husband"- Loverless
4. "Kampala Truth Work"- Max Tannone w/ Mos Def
5. "Ocean Breathes Salty"- Modest Mouse
6. "Music Man"- Paranoid Social Club
7. "Behind the Moon"- Matt Costa
8. "Turn Me On"- Big Boi
9. "I Changed My Mind"- Lyrics Born
10. "Love Gun"- Cee Lo Green
11. "Whispered Words"- Dan Auerbach
12. "Anytime"- My Morning Jacket
13. "Taylor"- Jack Johnson
14. "We Share the Same Skies"- the Cribs
15. "Promised Land"- Bruce Springsteen
16. "Black Thumbnail"- Kings of Leon
17. "Two Weeks"- Grizzly Bear
18. "East Jesus Nowhere"- Green Day
19. "Far Behind"- Eddie Veddar
20. "What’s the Altitude?"- Cut Chemist w/ Hymnal

5 Words/Phrases for a Moderately Sluggish Wednesday:
1. Coffee
2. Jamtastic
3. In-kind
4. Mood Technician
5. Palm Sunday

3 Thoughts for a Moderately Sluggish Wednesday:
1. 40 percent of the vote is a shitty result for having done 4 years of work in any state, let alone New Hampshire.
2. Someone needs to make a good movie about Billy the Kid and make it about his whole life, not just his years as an outlaw.
3. This could be a band name: Garbanzo & the Chick Peas, but that band might be terrible. Maybe a name like The Garbanzo Brothers would be better.

6 Sports Thoughts on a Moderately Sluggish Wednesday:
1. Patriots 34 Broncos 17
2. The 49ers will beat the Saints but it might include someone giving Drew Brees the wrong direction to the stadium.
3. I feel bad for Ryan Madsen. He was shooting for 4 years, 40 million bucks, but ended up with 1 year and 8.5 million from the Reds. The only thing that would get me back to Cincinnati would be a wedding, funeral or 8.5 million dollars.
4. I miss HBO’s Road to the Winter Classic mini-series already, but I’m looking forward to the next one about Freddie Roach, even though I could care less about boxing.
5. I wonder if I’ll have to explain to my kids whether or not wrestling is fake.

6. There are too many NBA games going on right now to keep track of. I picked the wrong year to try out fantasy basketball.

This peformance of "One Big Holiday" by My Morning Jacket is a great way to spend those few minutes on a conference call when you're not talking.

Remember the Spaghetti: See-I & the Pimps of Joytime. Union Transfer. Philly. 1.7.12

There are four things to talk about:

1) the pulled pork sandwich at North Third
2) Union Transfer, Philly’s newest music venue

3) The Pimps of Joytime

4) See-I

It’s best to run through this chronologically, so we’ll start at North Third. You probably only know about North Third if you live in Philly or have gone to the restaurant while in town visiting- but you went there with friends. I doubt you went on your own. That’s what Standard Tap is for- and that is no knock on the Tap, which is a fine establishment in its own right. But North Third is a little different. North Third is dark inside and decorated with pictures of boobs, there are various masks hanging around and a couple large butterflies attached to the ceiling. It’s a funky place and makes a mean pulled pork sandwich. Until last week, I felt confident saying that it was the best pulled pork sandwich in the city. Yet the sandwich at another Philly joint, the Twisted Tail, put that claim into question. Waking up Sunday morning, Future Wife asked which one was better.

They are 1A and 1B, I replied.

Which one is which? She asked.

Doesn’t matter. They’re inter-changeable.

The pulled pork sandwich at North Third could declare that it’s running for President, is seeking the Republican nomination, secure said nomination and end up giving Obama a run for his money.

Speaking of money…anytime a band is playing and the cover is only 10 bucks, it’s worth a shot. Such was the case with the reggae group See-I playing at Union Transfer, the newest live music venue in Philly. Union Transfer is in a building formerly occupied by the Spaghetti Warehouse and while we can’t bother ourselves wondering things like- where did all that spaghetti go, we can easily be enamored by what is easily the nicest music hall in the city. It has that new music venue smell, which smells a lot like weed. No really, the place spelled like weed. And that was before I saw a middle age white dude with dreads get busted for smoking up on the dance floor.

Union Transfer is just pretty. It has a definitive aura similar to downstairs at World Café Live. Yet as much as I loved the venue, I’m sorry- I don’t want to talk about it while going to the bathroom, which happened. There are a few places in the world where I don’t like talking to people…on an airplane, a lobby at a doctor’s office and while peeing. Washing my hands is fine, but not while I’m at the stand up urinal. You can respect Union Transfer all you want, just respect my personal space as well.

And one final note about Union Transfer…you should have some pitchers of water out. There was lots of grooving going on Saturday night and I was driving, so quenching my thirst with beers could only go on for so long before responsibility dictated I drink something else. But you had to ask the bartender for water, which I did and received a pretty serious eye roll while doing so. Then she asked if I wanted tap water or something else I couldn’t understand. I just want two waters, I replied. This was followed by another eye roll. Ma’am, you can give me an eye roll for many good and viable reasons, but asking for two waters is not one of those reasons.

The first band was the Pimps of Joytime, who found themselves in the enviable position of realizing two songs into their set that this show was going to be better than they thought it would be, causing them to shake up their setlist a little bit. The frontman made a reference to their last show in Philly, alluding to the fact that it wasn’t as well-attended as this night’s show was. So they made some changes and with the changes came some serious good-time jams and funky fresh grooves. They were solid. There were no frills and nothing fancy or remarkably innovative about them and that was perfect. It was music constructed by purists and funk traditionalists. There is a fine line between imitating your heroes and emulating them and the Pimps of Joytime excelled at killing it in the vein of the latter. I loved it.

The Pimps of Joytime were followed by a DJ spinning some of Future Wife’s favorite top 40 reggae hits and then the headliners, See-I. But it was initially just the backing band and a couple songs showcasing the group’s lone female- the well-dreaded backup singer. The rest of the backing band was a real crew of interesting-looking fellas- two with dreadlocks, one with a well-manicured afro and a bass player who really utilized the space on the stage well when it came to exhibiting his bass player dance moves. The keyboardist kind of looked like Lil’ Wayne and the drummer kind of looked super duper baked behind his in-the-groove head nods and aviator sunglasses. Visually, my favorite member was the sax player and I had a hard time taking my eyes off of him. I bet he calls people “cat” and “mama.”

The heavy hitters of See-I are the two safari-hat wearing front men; long-limbed rasta dudes who bounced around and chanted their call and response lyrics. They too were hiding behind sunglasses and actually, four of the seven members were rocking shades. I guess it was probably just easier. But either way, the band was a lot of fun and played a set that was much looser than the Pimps of Joytime and clung to the reggae grooves played by the deep within the pocket rhythm section. The music never really seemed to stop, which is fun with a reggae show. I don’t think you’d feel the same way if it was a Metallica show. Have I mentioned that Lars Ulrich is a joke? Okay, that was so last week. But See-I were a great way to spend a Saturday night and I enjoyed every part of the show…until the end. Yeah, it was the kind of set that is good, but easy for the wheels to fall off- which is exactly what happened. Maybe I’m getting old, but I don’t find a lot of value in bringing all the single ladies onto the stage and backing it up with a tired reggae groove that sounded similar to the opening jam. It was a shame. They went one song too long. See-I, you’re going to make us go home and watch the tail end of Saturday Night Live instead of the tail end of your set. Bold move. Unfortunate. At least we didn’t have to pay for parking.

But overall there was little to complain about and for a Saturday night in January, you’d be hard pressed to find another way to have a good time. There were highlights all around and I can’t wait to make it back to Union Transfer for another show because it really is a special venue. We hope for the best for it- that is lasts and is able to stick around for a while.

We hope the best for the spaghetti too. Hopefully it ended up in a good home.

12 Thoughts for 2012: coffee mugs, lars ulrich, game of thrones & more.

Here’s twelve random and largely un-connected thoughts for 2012…

1. I’ve grown tired of the Republican Death Race for the Presidential nomination. Although I do appreciate Newt Gingrich employing the best and most massive BUT in recent memory when he said that he won’t go negative and won’t start throwing out attack ads…but (and that’s it) he does reserve the right to tell the truth. The translation: oh I’m going to get negative and it’s going to be awesome. Buckle up Mitt, Newt’s about to go nuclear on your Mormon ass!

2. I usually disagree with Sports Illustrated’s predictions about anything, but Peter King predicting a Saints over Patriots Super Bowl makes total sense to me. However, I do disagree with their use of regional covers. I don’t like them, especially because I don’t currently live in the region of the teams I’m a fan of. I live in Philly and get stuck with Pennsylvania-centric covers (no thanks Big Ben) and unless it’s a member of the Phillies, I could care less. I’m sure I’m not alone in thinking this. And it pains me that in the Colorado area, Sports Illustrated possibly had their third Tebow cover in the last five issues.

3. Van Halen played a club show in New York City last night and I watched two clips on YouTube. This led to me spending 15 minutes watching videos of drummers. The highlights- a four minute clip of Lars Ulrich awkwardly trying to find a drum beat for a fairly generic Metallica song and James Hetfield and Kirk Hammett trying not to shit on Ulrich, but at the same time, growing frustrated with his inability to get something together. I hate Lars Ulrich. Sit down you nancy boy. Drummers shouldn’t stand up unless they are coming or going. Have you ever seen Questlove stand up? No. Case closed.

4. I haven’t watched the NBA since Christmas day. There’s too much going on right now. But it’s nice to see the Celtics start to get some wins- albeit against some terrible teams. You know how the NBA can be saved? It’s easy, dude. Contract 4 teams…Sacramento, Charlotte, Milwaukee, and Toronto and move Memphis’ team to Chicago with that team getting first dibs on Charlotte and Milwaukee’s four best players. Boom. Two teams in Chicago would be great- the Chicago Grizzlies. That sounds like a winner.

5. An underrated awesome present for a man like me for Christmas? A new travel coffee mug. I got one and it’s awesome. It’s too early to say it might change my life, but there is a damn good chance.

6. It’s hard to pinpoint a new season of a show I’ve been more excited for that rivals my excitement for season two of Game of Thrones. The only show that could be considered would be the Wire season five, but that was for different reasons. I love the idea of six seasons of Game of Thrones and that this will only be the second. Of course if someone docks and union workers and dead Eastern European hookers are involved, we might have an issue.

7. I can teach you how to write a good email. I can also teach you how to parallel park.

8. It’s No Beer-uary with the only exceptions being Patriots playoff games and this Saturday if we go see See-I, a reggae band from DC, at Union Transfer in Philly.

9. I think we need a holiday in late February or early March. I’m not sure if it should be a gift-giving holiday or a big-eating holiday or a costume-up & booze-up holiday, but we need something to break up this dangerous stretch of time we’re about to embark on. Either that or we could just get rid of March as a whole and with respect to people with March birthdays, we give them their choice of either moving their birthday to February or April and then we move St. Patrick’s Day to mid-August where it can then serve as one big throwdown before the summer ends. This allows for a more relaxing Labor Day weekend where we can concentrate on important things like bar-be-ques and fantasy football.

10. Following regular bands, not popular mainstream bands, but bands out there just trying to string together shows and get people out, listening and buying their shit, on Twitter makes them step out from behind the curtain. This part of a band’s ascension is no longer a mystery and I’m not sure if this is a good thing or a bad thing. I feel one bad thing about it is that it can fool a band into thinking people actually give a shit about what they’re doing when they’re not playing shows- which for the most part, people don’t care. Although this could be part of a larger problem I have with Twitter- unless you’re reporting news, then I really could care less about what you think or what you’re doing…unless it affects or involves me of course.

11. After Christmas I made the switch back to straight razors after a couple month relationship with an electric razor. Although I’m keeping the electric razor still in my life like Jameson because I don’t do shots of Jameson as much as I used too, but I’m still up for one if the right situation presents itself. The situations where a electric razor proves useful are weekday mornings when I’m begrudgingly awake and face the possible danger of cutting my face open. Plus this will help me conserve razor blades because really, why the hell are replacement blades so freaking expensive? Everywhere- they’re the same price. It doesn’t matter what kind of store it is; you cannot find four replacement razor blades for under $14 bucks. That seems crazy to me. I feel like coffee should be cheaper too.

12. I never thought that I would A) ever eat swordfish meatballs and B) really enjoy said swordfish meatballs. But both happened and it was glorious.

It's Toad the Wet Sprocket!

You can’t make this stuff up. No, really you can’t. There I was- driving the Corollacoaster up to lovely Limerick, PA- home of smoke stacks and a Wawa and scanning through the increasingly mediocre FM radio stations in Philadelphia. There was nothing on except for the tail end of one of the songs off of Watch the Throne and the grizzled and currently hopeful voices of Eagles’ fans, talking themselves into believing that despite what reality said- their team still had a shot at the playoffs. I stopped at one station, a familiar guitar lick was coming through the speakers and I thought to myself- is this Toad the Wet Sprocket?

Of course you remember Toad the Wet Sprocket- “Fall Down” and that out on the ocean song…

But here’s kicker number one friend…the guitar lick did not belong to Toad the Wet Sprocket…unfortunately. I had gotten excited to listen to Toad and his sprocket because with ease, I get excited about random things very quickly. The guitar part belonged to the Gin Blossoms, another largely forgettable/occasionally memorable band. I was disappointed. Why would I want to listen to the Gin Blossoms? Philly radio does this to me at least three times a day. They play songs that make me wonder, why on Earth would I want to listen to Marcy’s Playground, an Everclear song other than "Santa Monica," any Bush song, Third Eye Blind…the list is too long, I have things to do. But who is out there that is genuinely happy when the Gin Blossoms come on?

I saw the Gin Blossoms once. It was by accident, pure chance and it was in Boston. I was coming back from one of the museums and heard familiar sounds coming from the plaza in front of the government building so I went to check it out. There were maybe two hundred people scattered across the steps and on the stage, there were the Gin Blossoms in all of their holding onto the 90’s glory. I won’t say they looked pathetic…I’ll say they looked like a band on their way to Pathetic Town, not quite there yet, but most definitely on the slow boat in that direction. I caught their last song, one of their well-known ones and was shocked. They screwed it up. They had to start over. Come on dudes, that wouldn’t happen to Third Eye Blind.

So instead of listening to Toad the Wet Sprocket, which would have been a welcome surprise, I found myself changing the dial to avoid the Gin Blossoms. The radio scanned up and down the FM dial two or three times. More Eagles’ fans, but not much else. With a win over the Dolphins, hope has been restored. Keep the riot place on call for now. For today, the angry rioting that has been kept at bay by wins like Sunday’s was again put on hold. Andy Reid will stay! Andy Reid needs to go! If the Birds win out and everyone else falls to pieces…

The sun was shining bright and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. Not one. The air smelled like hope.

Minutes later, the day took a turn. I stopped at another radio station because this one- and this is where we get to the Can’t Make This Stuff Up part of this (pointless) story, was playing…Toad the Wet Sprocket. It was not the Gin Blossoms. It was not any other vanilla 90’s band.

It was a Christmas miracle!

Toad the Wet Sprocket’s lead singer is named Glen and their drummer was short, with a big head.

Yesterday was Monday and today is Tuesday. It’s cold and we will stick to the facts.

Three Facts:

I can’t believe Jimmy is dead.

Tim Tebow does not play defense and does not kick 59 yard field goals.

The NBA is making people who literally shoot themselves in the foot look sensible.

Here's to Toad the Wet Sprocket. We will see you again soon.

Thunderclaps of the Truth: a review of My Morning Jacket at the Mann Center in Philadelphia (8/23/11)

Jim James rocks a duster! There is a gorilla on drums!

After last night’s show at the Mann Center in Philadelphia, I’m sold- My Morning Jacket are the truth. They are the next great American rock band. For a hot minute, I thought that band might be Kings of Leon- but they seem to be headed down the same road Oasis went down and that road apparently leads to court rooms and ill-conceived solo projects with ridiculous names. Pearl Jam and the Foo Fighters are already great American rock bands. Nickleback is from Canada…so they don’t count. Plus their terrible.

The Mann Center is adorable, absolutely adorable. It’s nestled in the lush hills and lurking danger of Fairmount Park in West Philadelphia. The parking lots are fields, I think I might have a flat tire, and there is no overwhelming presence of Johnny Law to detour folks from enjoy some summertime tailgating. The people-gawking was top notch and Future Wife & I enjoyed Sly Fox beers and sandwiches from Wegman’s as we watched a potpourri of young adults pound beers, toss a Frisbee, run around gleefully with balloons filled with nitrous and hob-nobbers strutting around in designer jeans, expensive flip flops and sixers. Once inside, the venue is a classic, good time, American music shed- a simple amphitheater with well-placed beer stands, a comfortable lawn, and minimal security patrolling the more expensive seats; making it easier to dip in and out of better spots than the lawn seats we paid for.

Kim had wanted to see the opener, Neko Case, but she was just wrapping up as we headed up to the lawn carrying 24 ounce beers that cost as much as a Heineken at Yankee Stadium. We didn’t bring a blanket; we should have. I take the blame for that. Once My Morning Jacket hit the stage we stood up, but quickly realized that in our section of the lawn, we were the only ones to do so. So we sat back down, which was relaxing. The band opened with “Victory Dance,” the first song off of their new album and it was an intense opener with its thundering drums and a wild & loose James going guitar less, showing off his vocal pipes and playing with what looked like a touch pad sampler that was hanging around his neck. The lights were amazing. Kim and I talked about it later in the show- they were perfect; not too much, not too little.

I don’t get to many big old American rock ‘n roll shows anymore. We saw the Black Keys last summer, but that didn’t feel nearly as big as the show last night. Last night was one of those shows that is just worth the money you threw down for it. The songs were big, the band was big, the beers were big. Everything was just gigantic. The smile on my face was gigantic. Kim’s smile was gigantic. I couldn’t help but think that in a year or so, the crowds for My Morning Jacket will be gigantic. They have to be. The band is what’s next for us.

An added bonus- the show was seamless. With minimal effort, the band went from song to song with ambient music or drum beats or guitars carrying them into the next tune. There was very little banter as well; not one mention of the near-devastating earthquake that knocked over lawn furniture and cracked the Washington monument earlier in the day. I appreciated that. James was in his own world; a world that possibly wasn't even affected by the earthquake. He owned the stage like a ringleader of big rock ‘n roll circus- all while rocking the duster. He performed the first two songs of the encore- “Wordless Chorus” and “The Day is Coming” with the duster covering his head- he looked like the Phantom of the Opera. “The Day is Coming” is my jam, but I was happy they played “Holding on to Black Metal.” But they didn’t just rely heavily on the new album and the middle of the show, the meat & potatoes, was largely made up of older tunes; a highlight being “Golden,” as well as the end of “Run Thru,” which emerged from the rubble and debris of “Smokin’ from Shootin” before they went back to a new song, “First Light”- a fitting summer jam for a fitting summer concert.

Let’s briefly talk about the gorilla on drums- My Morning Jacket’s beast of drummer, Patrick Hallahan. I used to think that the drummer for Rage Against the Machine, Brad Wilkerson, was the heir apparent of Led Zeppelin’s John Bonham, but I was wrong. It’s Hallahan. His snare hits are like vicious thunderclaps. I imagine he could crush acorns with his bare hands if he wanted too. He drives the band like an Ice Road Trucker slamming through the Arctic Wilds. I bet he’s a gregarious drunk.

The economy is tanking, our country might be broken, the president has the gall to take a vacation- but on a delightful summer evening, on a grassy hill with the tops of Center City peaking out of the tree line, none of that mattered. The only pressing matters concerning the hordes of happy feet at last night’s rock show was whether or not we’d get treated to “Maghettah,” which we didn’t. But that wasn’t a bummer. Perfect nights are without bummers. Last night was what American rock ‘n roll dreams are made of. Kim and I made the decision to go with My Morning Jacket over Kings of Leon last month, it just felt right. Last night didn’t just feel right, it felt amazingly right.

Good rock shows leaving you wanting more.

Last night left me wanting the world.

My Morning Jacket is the truth. I am a believer, I am tired, I am ready to go again.

The Best Laid Plans Will Be Aided By Beer Specials...a review of Black Landlord, live at Johnny Brenda's.

If you’re a band, I ask of you only one thing- own it.

Black Landlord, a funk/hip hop band from Philly, owned it Saturday night.

Kim and I caught whiff of their show at Johnny Brenda’s earlier in the evening while running through events associated with Philadelphia Beer Week. We had wanted to get back to JB’s for a while now, since almost a year ago when we stumbled upon a great show by Slavic Soul Party- probably one of the best Brooklyn hipster bands playing traditional Slavic jams out there. We had also wanted a good night out in Northern Liberties. Sometimes things just work out. Giddy up. Let’s go!

Philly Beer Week is confusing- as there are tons of great beers being served, but don’t seem to be very many specials associated with them. Regardless, Standard Tap in Northern Liberties was packed. Luckily upstairs was its chill self and we were able to get a table pretty easily. But you know what? You know what’s a huge, tremendous bummer- is when you get a burger, a real doozy of a burger- a large and in charge kind of burger and not even halfway through, the bun bails on you. Then your beautiful and delicious burger becomes a God damn dumpster fire on your plate. This happened Saturday- but I didn’t let it bring me down. But still, teamwork Burger! I read an interview with Louis C.K. yesterday. He always cuts his burgers in half, saying that no one needs all of a burger. Well sometimes you do, but I would argue that the benefit of cutting a burger in half is not so much the sharing ability, but the durability. I might try that in the future. Maybe.

Burger issues aside, we then made our way over to Johnny Brenda’s. Opening for Black Landlord was the Philly rapper Kuf Knotz, a dude with a decent flow and a solid backing band- trading a bass player for a dude playing an acoustic guitar, accompanied by a great keyboardist and capable drummer. They were good, some songs were definitely better than others. Live hip hop is a delicate art form and I don’t think a lot of people really get what makes it work. Maybe it’s because we’re the ADD generation, but folks fail to grasp that it is simplicity that makes live hip hop work. Why is Questlove of the Roots such a great drummer? Because homeboy locks into groove, doesn’t get flashy and keeps it rock solid.

Here is a good example: Manifest Next to Me was a live hip hop band based out of Burlington, Vermont a couple years ago. They released two albums and had a different drummer on both. On the first album, the drummer was a Questlove disciple, wasn’t flashy, and was deep within the pocket with tasteful beats and well-placed fills. It was perfect and they sounded great. On the second album, the original drummer had moved and been replaced with a jazz cat. Jazz drummers are live hip hop’s worst enemy. They can’t hold a steady beat for more than a minute, feeling compelled to add in complicated fills and unnecessary rhythms on three cymbals too many. As a result, Manifest’s second album was in my opinion, a disaster.

Keep it simple, stupid- words to live by, especially if one desires to play in a good live hip hop band.

Then Black Landlord hit the stage- well dressed and filling the majority of the stage with eight members including the token hot chick and a middle aged, hype man with a fantastic moustache. Their drummer looked like he could bench press a Mini Cooper and they had a percussionist who looked that that actor who was on Seinfeld, playing the executive from NBC who falls for Elaine, quits his job to go work for Greenpeace. Black Landlord’s front man had a belly that looked like he was pregnant with three grown adults, but dude really worked the stage and worked the room. I could barely understand a word he was saying, but he was great and looking dapper in his white suit. Yet as the night went on, it seemed like he was consistently losing a game of strip poker to someone off stage as song after song, another article of clothing came off ending with him only wearing shoes and pants during the encore. It was an amazing belly.

I would never buy a Black Landlord album and wouldn’t think to listen to them if they came on the radio. But I would surely see them again as they played a set that was high octane, manic energy from start to finish. They were loud, tight, and fun. In the palm of their sweaty hands, the near-packed crowd at Johnny Brenda’s danced their beer-drinking asses off. And I love the atmosphere of the club, with it’s balcony and stage tucked into the far corner. The room sounds great, you couldn’t ask for me. Except for maybe an ice cold Yuengling Light- but nothing is perfect.

But that night everything was fun. It was a delightful evening out on the town with my more than delightful future wife- capped off with a Wawa sandwich and a couple Gatorades. We will see Black Landlord again. We might even see Kuf Knotz again. The best nights are ones that are usually not planned. Great nights are born from spontaneity and last minute curveballs. Saturday was a long day and coming home, I was tired and thinking about pitching the fail safe idea of chilling out and watching a movie to Future Wife. But all it took was a quick nap, a tasty yet contentious burger and some great jams to change all that.

You can ask all you want out of a band. All I ask is that they play it like they mean it. Do that and I’ll be your friend for life.

Giddy up Black Landlord. Giddy up.

We will be in this together.

I have moved out of two places in one month.

First, I finally moved to Philadelphia and away from Regan Lane. It took four years of living down here for me to become a resident of this city. I had lived on Regan Lane for twenty-four years- yet in that time also living in Baltimore, Towson, a couple other joints in Portland, and as of this weekend, two apartments in Philadelphia. The last apartment was the swinging bachelor pad and my year of flying solo is over. I had never lived alone before and it was fun having my own place; the ability to walk around naked whenever, drink milk straight from the gallon and determine when and why to leave the toilet seat up or down...

The apartment had exposed brick and exposed mice, but was a good place to call home for a year. Only gun shots once or twice and the most annoying noise was the two dogs downstairs- mainly just the one dog. It went outside and barked. Constantly. And it's little buddy, as it was wandering around the small, l-shaped backyard, would look up every once in a while and bark too. Barking in stereo makes watching Sportscenter nearly impossible.

The dude downstairs, in the other apartment, listened to a lot Weezer, cleaned up the neighborhood, and was concerned about the heating units in the basement. I don't know any of the neighbors in the new place, except the dude upstairs who Kim calls Mr. Beats. It sounds like rolling thunder through a rolling sub when it's movie time.

Kim and I will have two swiffers. One for swiffering. One for complaining.

Kim and I will have happy memories this next year. Kim and I will have cereal bowls and plenty of pillows. Kim and I will have a lot of fun and we will watch lots of episodes of True Blood while eating animal crackers.

We will have stereos in both rooms.

A roof deck is back in my life and I'm pretty stoked about that. It will allow me a better spot to catch up on my mountain of periodicals that should be arriving to the new digs soon. If the heat wave is over, it's all the better. But for the deck I will brave the heat. Just like for Kim, I will brave It's Complicated.

It is the summer of moving on, another four year cycle comes to a close- the Great Philly Experiment moves into it's next stage- results are good up to this point so we can move on with our lives, move on from the lab coats and lab mice. Not sure what the theme of the next four years will be or if it will even be four years. Maybe it will be six or eight or some number I can't even think of. Like 47. But it will be with Kim. So whatever happens will happen with her.

And that's pretty damn awesome.

Especially in stereo.