I've been talking about this song to people all week. The audacity of it amazes me more with each listen. And, how can you not love a song that employs "OMG" in the refrain?
It's been a wild week already. People talk about juggling responsibilities, having a lot of balls in the air. I feel like people are throwing balls at me left and right and I'm just trying to catch them before they hit my face, and then put them some place where I won't forget about them. It's not a bad thing.
Monday night was the very last Afro Flow Yoga (AFY) class at South Boston Yoga. I'm pretty sure every single person I've spoken to in the last year and half has gotten an earful about how amazing the class is. Yoga + Afro-Carribbean dance + live drumming + amazing teacher + diverse class. What more could you really ask for? I've had to say goodbye to great yoga teachers before (sadly, they're people too and they move and have babies and do that kind of stuff) but what really bums me out about the end of AFY, is that it makes my body feel better than anything else I've ever done. It was a key component of my pain management routine. I know there are other sweet things out there that could make me feel good, like Hip Hop Yoga, or inversion tables, but I'm going to miss the crap out of that class. Leslie Salmon Jones, creator of AFY, is a wise and wonderful woman. Thankfully, she'll still be teaching workshops here and there.
Tuesday night I saw Kurt Vile and Thurston Moore at the Somerville Theatre. I'm not really sure what you have to do to "make it" in the music industry these days but if Vile hasn't yet, he will soon. During a particularly beautiful part of "Dead Alive," my concert buddy, who's no stranger to ridiculously good music, leaned over and said he'd never seen anyone play guitar the way Vile was. It was mesmerizing. He played solo, with some harp accompaniment. Now, I just want to see him again. Thurston Moore, of the now defunct Sonic Youth, played an acoustic set with a band, which also included a harp, and a violin. The strings all sort of canceled each other out in a weird way that was neither pleasing nor interesting. The set alternated between seemingly soulless acoustic songs, spoken word poetry and straight up noise making, which was the one redeeming factor of the whole experience. Maybe I missed something but I found it hard to sit through.
Saturday promises a roaring night of rock opera in JP and baby making music with Daptone hero Charles Bradley.
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