On Iowa, dancing, and funk.
I arrived at the picador and the first band was already half way through their set. The place was deserted, even for the picador, and on a Saturday no less. I have some what come to terms with the fact that even though this is a college town, that the music scene will always leave something to be desired. I know I’m coming into the situation with Portland-tinted glasses, but even if I hadn’t just left my own personal oasis of live music, I’m sure I would feel the same way. The darling local band, delightfully called The Deathships, are probally a prototypical example of “so-so”. All of the other contenders are what I like to call “frat metal”, a genre that is defined by that large number of confused 19 year old bros who act like some combination of Korn (or, as I like to call them, Iowa’s music legacy) and Danzig. I guess you haven’t lived until you have seen popped-collar types screaming into the microphone as if he was in a metallica video, while the drummer thrashes his clean-cut head.
There is, of course, on exception to this. For some reason there is a small, but thriving, Blues and Funk scene going on in Iowa city and I have no idea where it came from. A couple of weeks ago I was blown away by the New Beat Society and the Diplomats of sound, both Iowa City Jazz/R&B outfits, and this week I managed to catch another couple of acts.
Like I said, the place was pretty much deserted when I arrived, despite the fact that the band was half-way through their set. The people who were there were all sitting in the back, silently nodding their head to the blues beat, with the exception of one man: my hero. This man, whose sobriety might be question, was right up front despite the fact that there was no one within 20 feet of him, break dancing. That’s right, he was break dancing during a blues set. Well, really when I came in he was doing the robot, breaking down and then picking himself back up by the nape of neck. Do robots even have napes? It doesn’t matter, through the power of dance this man made me believe they could. By the time the first song finished (though I assume he had been going since the start) he made his way to “the fish” or “the flop”, or “the wave”. Look, I don’t know what the kids call it these days, but it’s when flop around on the floor, and the audience ate it up. It became this guys mission to infect his dancing spirit to every person in the room, and it worked. By the time this R&B blues outfit (making them the ATM machine of generes) finished their set, every couple in the room had started dancing.
The next band was by far the most eclectic thing I have ever seen. It is a funk band made up of, a ragged old blues man on guitar, 18 year-old hot shots on trumpet and drums, an aging hipster leading the band on sax, a turn-tableist, and a hip-hop mc (who mainly functioned as a toaster on songs where he didn’t rap). And they laid down funkier beats than I could stand, and yet needed. By the time they played such jazz standards as “Salt Peanuts” and “evolution”, they had completely taken over me, I was hooked.
Regardless, drunk girls on a 21st birthday binge were trying to ruin it for everyone, by wooting and hollering every second, and grinding on everything in eye site. They even wrote their numbers and gave it the mc. To which he replied with a “Yo, these girls need heeeeelp.” Anyways, one of the girls tried to dance “all up on me”, and I, understandably, resisted.
She flipped her hair back in a flitty manner, leaned into me and said “yeah, I don’t really like them either.”
To which I replied, “no, actually they are pretty much the best thing in the world.” And she gave me this look. It was like I had just made poo in her boots. Not exactly angry, just filled with consternation, and that was that.
What can I say, it’s not like I don’t like the beat, I just refuse to dance on cue.
There is, of course, on exception to this. For some reason there is a small, but thriving, Blues and Funk scene going on in Iowa city and I have no idea where it came from. A couple of weeks ago I was blown away by the New Beat Society and the Diplomats of sound, both Iowa City Jazz/R&B outfits, and this week I managed to catch another couple of acts.
Like I said, the place was pretty much deserted when I arrived, despite the fact that the band was half-way through their set. The people who were there were all sitting in the back, silently nodding their head to the blues beat, with the exception of one man: my hero. This man, whose sobriety might be question, was right up front despite the fact that there was no one within 20 feet of him, break dancing. That’s right, he was break dancing during a blues set. Well, really when I came in he was doing the robot, breaking down and then picking himself back up by the nape of neck. Do robots even have napes? It doesn’t matter, through the power of dance this man made me believe they could. By the time the first song finished (though I assume he had been going since the start) he made his way to “the fish” or “the flop”, or “the wave”. Look, I don’t know what the kids call it these days, but it’s when flop around on the floor, and the audience ate it up. It became this guys mission to infect his dancing spirit to every person in the room, and it worked. By the time this R&B blues outfit (making them the ATM machine of generes) finished their set, every couple in the room had started dancing.
The next band was by far the most eclectic thing I have ever seen. It is a funk band made up of, a ragged old blues man on guitar, 18 year-old hot shots on trumpet and drums, an aging hipster leading the band on sax, a turn-tableist, and a hip-hop mc (who mainly functioned as a toaster on songs where he didn’t rap). And they laid down funkier beats than I could stand, and yet needed. By the time they played such jazz standards as “Salt Peanuts” and “evolution”, they had completely taken over me, I was hooked.
Regardless, drunk girls on a 21st birthday binge were trying to ruin it for everyone, by wooting and hollering every second, and grinding on everything in eye site. They even wrote their numbers and gave it the mc. To which he replied with a “Yo, these girls need heeeeelp.” Anyways, one of the girls tried to dance “all up on me”, and I, understandably, resisted.
She flipped her hair back in a flitty manner, leaned into me and said “yeah, I don’t really like them either.”
To which I replied, “no, actually they are pretty much the best thing in the world.” And she gave me this look. It was like I had just made poo in her boots. Not exactly angry, just filled with consternation, and that was that.
What can I say, it’s not like I don’t like the beat, I just refuse to dance on cue.