my saturday night
picture a vacant lot behind a motorcycle shop. it's in georgetown at, say, midnight. small planes go overhead hellla low to land at boeing field.
then throw in a radical marching band and 400-500 people dancing to the most intense and beautiful drum beats and horn licks and singing in languages you don't understand that you have ever heard, all in a circle around a black plywood coffin full of firecrackers which has just been doused in gasoline and set on fire.
this was preceded by clown-ish things doing interpretive dance with shaving cream pies, a big-band klesmer everything fusion ensemble, huge showers of sparks from the manufacture of a metal cage ball which was subsequently rolled around with someone in a cow suit inside, and a hauntingly beautiful folk band. and lots of dancing.
yeah
then throw in a radical marching band and 400-500 people dancing to the most intense and beautiful drum beats and horn licks and singing in languages you don't understand that you have ever heard, all in a circle around a black plywood coffin full of firecrackers which has just been doused in gasoline and set on fire.
this was preceded by clown-ish things doing interpretive dance with shaving cream pies, a big-band klesmer everything fusion ensemble, huge showers of sparks from the manufacture of a metal cage ball which was subsequently rolled around with someone in a cow suit inside, and a hauntingly beautiful folk band. and lots of dancing.
yeah