Friday Night Frolic — Intimate Arrangements

Do you know this man? Hang on to your hats...  you're about to meet him. [source]

While the Suburban Soliloquist is away negotiating real estate agreements and finance arrangements (yes, she too, nearly forgot about that laborious and evidently not-so-captivating-dot-i-cross-t job where she redlines paragraphs packed with polysyllabic words such as herinafters and notwhithstanding-the-forgoings concurrently with vainly attempting to ward off the one-hundred-thousand-word migraine) she has made very special arrangements for you to see a very rare show in a tiny and somewhat cluttered but acoustically pleasant venue where very exciting things happen on a daily basis (which, to the best of her knowledge, do not include real estate or legal matters, at least—at the very least—not on all-songs-considered day) that sometimes have the effect of giving her...

...goosebumps.

Are you dressed and ready to go? Well, fine, don't dress. Dress is optional.

Alright then, here are your TICKETS (click, click) for the show. You'll need them to get in. Now go. Seriously, go now. And Enjoy! (Oh, and take a look at the program, too.)

When it's over, please feel free to come back and let the Suburban Soliloquist know what you thought of it.  She likes hearing from you.

This is how the Suburban Soliloquist feels about the man in the show:



You can find the man's lastest CD and preview all songs here.

Disclaimer: The Suburban Soliloquist shall not be liable for any claims, accidents, damages or expenses of whatever nature arising directly or indirectly from any accident, injury or damage to any person or persons or property caused, in part or wholly, by swooning audience, nor shall she be responsible for the consequence of any actions--per se, swooning--of those attending the show, nor for disturbing her readers with redundant disclaimers.

(The Suburban Soliloquist likes her blogger job a whole lot better, unfortunately, that gig is pro bono. She will, though, endeavor to keep it.)

"Friday Night Frolic" - Examinations and Interruptions

These past few weeks, I've been inspired by, and reminded of, the remarkable resilience of my daughter. (And children in general.) Within a span of twenty-two days the girl has been through a quadruple tooth extraction, a series of visits with, and examinations by, several medical specialists, ultrasounds and MRIs, surgery, and today, her streak of health related matters capped off, literally, by the gold brackets and silver wiring of her shiny new braces. On her twelfth birthday, no less.

And not one complaint.

She, as well as all the other children we encountered along this course of medicinal forays, has worn the same determined warrior-face for each run along the path.

And me, fretting over a job interview for a position I've never held, in an industry I know little about. Not much to fret there, really. Certainly not by comparison.

But dealing with numerous and lengthy internet interruptions? (Cox Communications—can anyone tell me if FiOS is more reliable?) That's serious. I'll be lucky to find an open window in which to throw out this post.

Today, my girl is twelve. Twelve! I could never have imagined what I was to be confronted with in those dozen years now past. (And what to come?) Even though I had been a mother—an older mother, at that—for two years when Lulu was born, I was entirely unprepared for what would follow.

No one warned me of the degree to which my mental resilience would be tested by motherhood. Hell, by everything. But I won't bore you with tangential elaboration. You understand.

Anyway, I saw Ann Hood quote Allen Ginsberg on Facebook today. (Ann is a fellow Rhode Islander.) “Follow your inner moonlight; don't hide the madness” she wrote on her wall. 

Speaking of such, I now see my window of opportunity in which to fling my inner moonlight and madness...  while a few escalating bars flicker access in the lower right hand corner of my laptop, and before Lu and I go get a manicure and, later, meet up with her father and brother at Cuban Revolution to have dinner, listen to some jazz, and celebrate the astonishing miracle of Lu's birth, and what she brings to the world.

 My muse. How I love her.



I think it's time for a to return to normal, don't you?



If you don't have Buena Vista Social Club in your music library, you may want to start here.

And thanks so much to all of you who've been so kind, patient and supportive through all of this. I've been unable to keep up with many of you, but I'll be by to visit this weekend (if Cox permits, ugh).

"Friday Night Frolic" - Arriba!

Hands down, Calexico—hailing from Tuscon, Arizona—is one of the most talented, original, and diverse group of musicians today. If I were obliged to choose one band that encapsulates the American experience, as it is today, Calexico would be my pick. Like the USA, Calexico's music is a brilliant admix of many styles and flavors. Fusing world, rock, Spanish (flamenco, mariachi), jazz, folk, blues and country, this band has spawned one of the most unique sounds in the music industry. 

It is virtually impossible to lump Calexico into any distinct musical genre, which is what is so exciting about this band—they are pioneering a brand of contemporary music that has no particular taxonomy. Comprised of six members (but often collaborating with others), the group, collectively, plays  approximately fifteen different instruments, including the vibraphone, cello, accordion, steel guitar, and glockenspiel.

The song Roka (Garden Ruin—2006) captures the evolution and essence of this band, evoking the American West (think Sergio Leone—as in Frontera, from Calexico's seminal album The Black Light—1998) with its Latin swing, Southwestern spice and wide open spaces. Listen to Roka below. You'll want to dance, swagger, kick up the dust, collapse in a woven hammock, close your eyes and sip a cool mojito:



And my personal favorite—cutting to the heart of the great immigration debate, a narrative of desperate circumstances, a flight across the southern border—is the song Across the Wire (Feast of Wire—2003). Pepe Romero embracing John Prine under a sweeping Texan sky (and if you haven't seen John in concert, I highly recommend it).




Fabuloso! 

Have a wonderful weekend...
Adios Amigos!