|Yesterday, the Last Minute Celebration.
||[Jul. 2nd, 2004|03:45 pm]
|[||In the Moment
|||||Madvillain - Madvillany (Album on Repeat)||]|
Yesterday was the birthday of Brad, one of my best friends. He turned 27.
He knew about the "surprise party" his friends had organized. He called me on my walk with Jim. They were kickin' it nearby me, at the Cat & Fiddle Restaurant & Pub.
I didn't know if anything was goin' down for Brad's birthday. He was scouting a location and generally busy all day. His thesis film begins shooting in less than 2 weeks, and his days until August feature a 16 hour work day. I did my usual computer-based reading, writing, organizing, and ball-scratching.
I found the call on voice mail, on the return from the walk. The shindig was goin' down already, but I went into Super-Charlie-Hustle-Without-The-Gambling-Addiction-Mode. Shit, shower, shave, change, shoes, socks, steppin.'
The Cat & Fiddle required only a very short drive from me. I decided on the way that I couldn't come empty-handed. I parked in the ArcLight parking garage, and I stopped by the trusty-friendly Amoeba Records for a gift.
I'd never watched Yojimbo by Akira Kurosawa, but Kurosawa is a safe choice, as there's little chance of a shitty production, especially since it was a Criterion Collection. I picked that up, and I scanned the MF Doom section for some fresh tracks.
One for the birthday boy, and one for the doctor.
Seemingly, every thing I do is impulse. Regardless, thanks go to decim for the tip. This album is my big '04 mass-play. I love dubs and beats and great rhymes and true oddity.
I walked from the Amoeba to the Cat & Fiddle.
I arrive for the party, and it's packed with youth and film students. I ask the bodyguard for entry for Brad's party, where might it be . . . he didn't know, but he let me in there. Brad actually was right on the other side of the gate, behind the potted plant, so after five seconds of scanning the crowd, I looked behind me, and there he was.
I enjoyed this place because it had a main area in the middle of the building, an open-air patio where I could smoke and breathe the wonderful smog. The people had much conversation, and I talked to folks a bit.
The vodka and tonics were not very big, but they were 5 dollars. I kept the drinky-drinky to a minimum.
Brad enjoyed himself. He felt happy that he had so many folks who cared to show up . . . and I agree, that's a great feeling.
After the Cat & Fiddle, we headed over to the Mel's on Highland. Brad, Eric, and Karma were hungry, but I came along for more conversation and shenanigans. It proved difficult to hear anyone because it was karaoke night in the Mel's.
Fuck. Here comes the rant.
Most people cannot sing. By sing, I mean sing in-key, with the music, at the correct pace, pitch, and the nine yards. This is why Mariah Carey and friends can put out diva albums . . . there's so few of us that can sing and croon with quality.
The rest of us, well . . . LA's finest shitty singers got up on the mic and fucked every lyric up right rotten down into oblivion, at a PA volume way too loud for the joint. When volume turns up, women and their treble-voices become drowned-out, so I couldn't hear Karma too well. I hate that because I want to talk to her, but I can't hear her in that atmosphere like I can hear Brad and Eric.
Karaoke is best done horribly, but it's best done in the company of friends, maybe in the home. Word to the wise, keep that shit out of public places that aren't specifically karaoke joints. Duets, the movie, I skipped it. I like listening to my friends rotten-it-up on the mic, but I don't want to hear really bad versions of popular music from strangers. Ever.
Also, I didn't see it, but some jerk-chicken bus boy at Mel's noticed my Pistons hat, and he pointed at it, almost touching my head, from what Brad said. Hahahaha, sucka. Detroit does it right, and Los Angeles is an also-favorite team of mine, but no sense being remotely a sore-loser about it . . . LA had their fun to the tune of 3 NBA Championships. Share the love.
'Twas a great night.