It had been a while since I'd seen John Primer perform but didn't realize that the last time I did was way back in 2009. Where does the time go?
There really isn't a bad seat in the house at The North Street Cabaret and I was up front stage left.
Primer is one of few remaining Chicago blues connections to all the greats that had so much influence on rock music. In his 80s now, he came to Chicago in the early 1960s and got his start at the Maxwell Street Market before getting a regular gig at the legendary Theresa's Lounge where he played with Buddy Guy, Junior Wells, Muddy Waters, Howlin' Wolf, and on and on.
Just after 8 the band stepped onto the stage. The harp player, Steve Bell, strapped on his ammo belt of harmonicas, drummer Lenny Media took a seat behind his kit, and bassist Melvin Smith strapped on his 5-string. And, of course, Primer grabbed one of his guitars and they started playing the blues.
Speaking of blues, someone needs to write a song for Willow who is at my feet meowing. Something like the "Got No Churu Blues".
The treats are gone, Skippy
And kibble just won't do
That little dish is empty
I've got the no Churu blues
Poor cat.
I just found out that Bell is the son of the legendary Corey Bell. No wonder he was so effin' good. Everyone was great, truth be told. I really loved Media's playing. He knew exactly when to throw in these perfect, short fills. Just wonderful. Sorry I didn't get a good photo of him in action.
The night was a mix of classics such as "Mannish Boy" and "I'm Your Hoochie Coochie Man" and newer tunes - "Chicago" and "Tough Times" come to mind, the latter having been (co-?)written by his daughter. I am not very familiar with Primer's catalogue and am struggling to recall song names but can tell you that there were more than a couple times when the band just hit a groove and it was absolutely sublime. Primer and Bell traded solos while the rhythm section held things down for them. Simply fantastic.
A woman behind me was dancing and, although the rest of us weren't quite so animated, everyone was having a good time. I even saw a smattering of folks younger than me.
Ooh! They played "Across the Universe" as the opener of the second set. Neat! Also for the second set I sat next to Primer's granddaughter. I chatted with her a little bit and she was such a nice woman. And, improbably, she lives in the Madison area. She told me that she had gone to college and was a poet but that she was looking to go back to school. Best of luck to her.
The show ended with a spirited "Got My Mojo Working" which was awesome.
It was a great night and I see that Primer returns to The North Street Cabaret on 27 February. I plan to be there.
Last month I returned to The Bur Oak to see Alash Ensemble, a group of Tuvan throat singers, with a friend of mine. I'd seen them there last March and was so enthralled that I bought tickets immediately when I saw that they were returning.
This time around I was a bit closer to the stage and the ensemble was down to three members. I adore all the songs about horses and mountains and life in a far off land.
The performance was just as enchanting as last year's - even more so, perhaps. More than once I fell into a trance. The steady beat and the ethereal singing just lulled me into a peaceful and blissful state, as if I had been led to the Land of the Lotus Eaters and eaten from their stash. It was simply lovely.
Hopefully they shall return soon.
I also availed myself of the opportunity to see Louis Michot last month at North Street Cabaret.
I saw him way back in 2022 with Lost Bayou Ramblers and was eager to discover what his solo work was like.
He alternated between acoustic guitar and fiddle and threw some sampling wizardry in for rhythmic good measure. He played music from his solo career of which I was completely unaware until I attended this performance, as well as some Lost Bayou Rambler tunes. He was two albums, Rêve Du Troubadour and Seauxleaux, under his own name and has collaborated with many other musicians including Leyla McCalla whom I knew from her stint with Carolina Chocolate Drops and Our Native Daughters.
In between songs there was plenty of banter about his life, the songs he played, and about Louisiana and Cajun culture. He told stories about his father Tommy Michot and his band Les Frères Michot where Louis and his brother Andre cut their chops; he talked a bit about the ecology of southern Louisiana; he talked about the New Orleans born composer and musician Louis Moreau Gottschalk before playing one of his songs. Just all kinds of stories.
At one point he asked if anyone had ever been to Natchitoches, a small city in northern Louisiana. I was one of three people to raise their hands. I knew about the Cane River and meat pies as my father had moved there and I got to know the place a little bit after his death when I was down there for three weeks to settle his estate.
He expressed condolences for the loss of Bob Queen who brought many a band here to Madison for the summer festivals and beyond. It sounded like Michot was more familiar with Madison than just a single swing through with Lost Bayou Ramblers.
Switching back to The Bur Oak, I finally saw Los Straitjackets. They're one of those bands that I should have seen 25+ years ago. I have been meaning to see them for ages and I am very glad that I finally did.
They play a lot of surf rock along with more rock/rockabilly tunes a la The Ventures and The Shadows. Also present that night was Deke Dickerson who collaborated with the band on 2014's Sings The Great Instrumental Hits!!!!!! where they took instrumental classics by The Ventures, Dick Dale, et al and put words to the music. In fact, they played a couple songs from that album.
Hearing Link Wray tunes live and loud was a real treat. A fantastic night.
Lastly, I saw Los Lobos down in Stoughton. It had been almost 30 years since I'd seen them at the Barrymore. Last time they came around I waited too long to buy tickets and they had sold out by the time I logged in to hand over my money.
While I didn't get to hear "Everybody Loves a Train", it was still a magical night. "Two Janes" was beautiful, affecting, moving - just great! I closed my eyes as I sang along. They jammed on "Angel Dance" and I loved every note. My mancrush on David Hildalgo continues.
Cesar Rosas asked the crowd at one point how to pronounce "Stoughton" and, upon being told, he said that someone in Chicago was mispronouncing it.
Something new from The Claudettes: a new version of "Touch You Back" from their forthcoming album Garage Glamour. They'll be here at the North Street Cabaret in June.
My boss is not always the most prompt person. He expects us to show up early and finish our work before it's due but he has a much more lenient sense of punctuality and timeliness when it comes to his own responsibilities. For instance, while we all appreciate that he takes out our entire unit out for a year-end holiday lunch, the meal is not always taken near Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, Saturnalia, and whatnot in December. I think our celebratory meal came when the year was well underway last April and this year it came in May. Soon things will come full circle and we'll actually have this lunch in the proper month.
Just as we did last spring, we went to Petra Bakery & Restaurant this month, a Middle Eastern joint on Madison’s west side.
To start the meal, we had the deep-fried halloumi (cheese made from goat and sheep milk) which was really tasty with a crispy outside and a smooth, creamy inside. This being Wisconsin, land of the fried cheese curd, I assume this is a big seller. Deep fried cheese seems to be something that transcends cultures. It's like a universal culinary language. Well, at least amongst those of us who are neither vegetarians nor vegans.
For the next round of Vorspeise, we were treated to stuffed falafel, deep fried balls of chickpea filled with onion, sumac, and chili paste. Oh, these were excellent too, I can assure you. Not very spicy but they did have a little bite. They reminded me that we have a jar of sumac at home so I must figure out some way to cook with it.
For my main course, I ordered a Fattoush salad topped with chicken shawarma.
While I probably, well, definitely, didn’t need the large size, I cleaned my plate anyway. Without any flatbread, rice, or other starch, I figured that I wouldn't slip into a particularly deep food coma when I got back to my desk. Underneath all of that chicken was the salad comprised of lettuce, tomato, and cucumber dressed with olive oil, garlic, maybe some sumac, and lots of lemon juice. Quite tasty and just perfect for a rather warm day.
In a feat worthy of Hercules, I restrained myself and did not order any baklava for dessert despite it looking very alluring and highly tasty in a display case that, curiously enough, is close to the entrance and catches your attention right as you walk in the door.
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When the work week ended last Friday, my Frau and I went out on a date night to the North Street Cabaret, just a couple miles from home. For one of Chicago’s finest bands, The Claudettes, were in town.
They are led by Johnny Iguana, a pianist with a blues pedigree. While there is a definite element of blues, barrelhouse and otherwise, in some of their songs, particularly their older material, there is much besides including R&B, cabaret pop, hints of New Wave, et al.
With them was their new singer, the willowy Rachel Williams.
I am kicking myself for not having snagged a copy of the setlist but I can confidently say they did a mix of originals and covers.
Bassist/guitarist Zach Verdoorn sang on a fine rendition of “Cosmic Dancer”, originally done by T. Rex, while the night ended with a rockin’ “See Saw”, a classic Aretha Franklin song. The band composition “Pull Closer to Me” was dedicated to a friend of my Frau who was sitting next to us. She has seen them several times and they now recognize her as a fixture of their Madison shows. And they've gotten to know her favorite songs.
“Terms and Conditions” brought tears to the Frau's eyes while we both laughed out loud to a song poking fun at a CNN reporter who, when reporting on the death of the bassist of the band Bon Jovi, pronounced his job title like the fish and not the musical instrument.
Iguana augmented his wonderful tinkling of the ivories with humorous between song banter; Verdoorn effortlessly switched between bass and electric guitar, his playing tasteful throughout. Drummer Michael Caskey kept things moving along and did some great work on the toms. Plus he has the best facial expressions. One moment he’d be pounding away on his kit with a maniacal look on his face, as if he was going to hurt someone, and the next he is smiling and laughing like he'd just been told the world's funniest joke.
For her part, Williams looked to be having fun. This was one of her first gigs as the new singer and so there were times when she appeared to be working on her front lady routine. Similarly, the band seemed to be figuring out just which songs from their back catalogue suited her best. Williams' predecessor, Berit Ulseth, was no less talented but had a Scandinavian reserve to her while Williams seemed more inclined to let go occasionally and just belt it out.
I ended up buying 3 CDs and Johnny Iguana came over to chat with us after the show. My inner fan boy was like, “It’s the guy who played piano on ‘Infernal Piano Plot...HATCHED!’!” That being the first song of theirs I heard back in 2014 or so and got me hooked on them.
It was a really fun night and I was impressed with the North Street Cabaret as it was my first time there. While it may be a small joint, it is cozy and colorful with the exposed wood lending a warmth to the atmosphere. In such a space the performance was intimate. The band were right there instead of being indistinct figures off in the distance of an arena. They could see us just as we could see them.
Iguana said he’s trying to land them a spot at the AtwoodFest, a block party an easy bike or bus ride from our house, this July. Fingers crossed.
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My pursuit of the ideal loaf of rye bread continues. I found a promising recipe online that contained cocoa powder and molasses and it was once more unto the breadmaker.
It turned out alright.
The loaf didn’t collapse, which I was proud of. But how did it taste?
It was good. Not great, but good. I liked the earthy bitterness of the cocoa as it made a nice contrast to the wheaty sweetness. Plus, I think the molasses added a little something to bolster that earthy taste as well. The crispy crust was great.
But it just didn't have enough of that spicy rye flavor.
While an improvement on my previous loaves, I still have much to learn of the way of breadmaking.
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My Frau and I went to the Northside Farmers Market on a recent Sunday morning that was grey and a bit glum.
Despite this, there were some lovely colors to be seen.
There were some great looking mushrooms to be had.
The Frau ended up buying summer squash and broccolini. While I was sorely tempted to get some pastrami, I managed some self-restraint. Another time.
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A week or so ago I went south to St. Charles, Illinois to go see the band The Musical Box at the Arcada Theater. I saw them there last year but couldn’t turn down a chance to see them perform The Lamb Lies Down on Broadway once again. Since I wrote about their previous show at the Arcada back in the spring, I won't go on at length here. I will, however, note that it was a great show despite a loud drunk guy a couple seats to my right who would occasionally turn on his phone light to look at the pills he was going to pop.
The guy just kept talking and talking. At one point, he was basically yelling at his friend about something that happened the last time he went to a Roger Waters concert. I felt like Roger Waters at that 1977 concert in Montreal when he went off on the audience.
"Oh, for fuck's sake. Stop letting off fireworks and shouting and screaming!"
But I may have witnessed evidence for the existence of a higher power that night. The song that I was most looking forward to hearing was "Silent Sorrow in Empty Boats". I mean, I was looking forward to all of the songs but my musical mind was keen on sitting there in the dim glow of the projections at the back of the stage and just letting those waves of Mellotron chorus wash over me. At previous performances of The Lamb I was eager to feel the rush of air over my face as every instrument came crashing in during "Fly On a Windshield" or to feel that unsettling feeling as the bright lights shine directly into my eyes and Death rises on the screen in back.
This time I just wanted a moment of serenity, of calm. To be overwhelmed by voices. And, by the gods, the drunken loudmouth allowed me that much.
The song was just beautiful.
Despite having been to the Arcada several times, I’d never really investigated St. Charles much and so I availed myself of the opportunity to trek around town the next morning.
It has a very pretty downtown with the Fox River splitting St. Charles in twain.
The St. Charles Municipal Center sits on the shore next to the St. Charles Dam. Built in 1940, it features a neat tower. Is this Art Deco? I’m not sure.
Here’s the Osgood Building with a fine turret, an architectural feature that has sadly (if you ask me) gone out of fashion.
There were murals along one side of it and I just had to take a photo of the one with a cat. The artist has captured the naughty look and demeanor of the feline creature here as this tabby looks ready to cause trouble.
There was a neat ghost sign a few blocks down the street, although the new occupants are in the same business as the old.
I found this mural with some timeless words of advice.
St. Charles is home to Ghoulish Mortals, the source for all of your monster and horror needs. Don’t mess with the flowers outside its windows.
There are lovely paths along river for a scenic stroll.
For dinner, I went to Alter Brewing which called a newer building home.
With my dinner I had a glass of their golden ale, Center Line, which was very tasty. A nice grain flavor with just a dash of fruitiness before the some spicy hops came in for a dry finish. It was light and refreshing and a very pretty brew.
On my way back to the interstate, I passed through Elgin. I don't think I'd ever been there before. It's always just been a sign that meant that I was getting close to Chicago and the traffic is going to get crazy soon. My impression was that it had something of an industrial past, judging by the buildings. St. Charles, on the other hand, seems to have had more of an agricultural history.
Cruising down the highway, I went by a building with a really nice ghost sign. I had to turn around and park to get some photos.
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Bonus photo. Here’s Piper relaxing in the sun while I was hard at work.
