Took time last night to see Banyan with Roger at Great American Music Hall. Pretty floatin’ show, though not quite as tight as last February’s performance. Kind of Laswell-like stew of atmosphere, jazz, funk, punk. Virtuosic, but somehow had trouble finding its overall groove. Still, how often do you get to hear Funkadelic’s “Maggot Brain” morph into Coltrane’s “A Love Supreme?” Sadly underattended – less than 100 people in the house.
Have been debating whether to go to this or to see Watt with Iggy and the Stooges in December. But that show is part of the Not So Silent Night festival, which includes a bunch of bands I don’t really care about (don’t have the time of day for Perry Ferrell, sorry, even though Jane’s drummer Steve Perkins is himself the heart of Banyan). And it’s harder for dads to go these longer performances, so Rog and I opted for something we could do quickly after kids went off to Slumberland.
This morning dreamed of parachuting/hang-gliding through an endless valley with Amy (but she was my fiance’ in the dream), through miles of craggy outcroppings, trees, lakes, contours in the land beautiful beyond all description, kind of a visual representation of last night’s music, I think. At one point my ‘chute got tangled on a tree, but all I had to do was hunch my shoulder a bit to lift it out of the branches.