#Sunday Juke Joint

[mangus-khan-blog]

Sunday Juke Joint #2

TUNAGE In the late 80s, I officially became a jazz fan. I began to recognize the sound, tempo, and style of the different sub-genres. Only a handful of my hands listened to jazz, so I was on my own in discovering where my tastes were within the genre. I started out with contemporary jazz, or what is often referred to as smooth jazz. Years later, my late wife, who was also a fan, introduced me to…

[critical-reflex]

BbUuZziiNn

I wanna see this cotton spin itself into some candy

My grandma told me to take my Brandy to church

I'd rather stay home Sunday

Zoom chat with Pastor David

Time is moving slow

The shot glass is moving faster

I know we're bathed in a torrent of disaster

The devils in the screens

Pixel junkies chasing greens

I found it in my ma's temper

I couldn't get clean

Confusing what I wanted

For what I saw on TV

The mind will manifest whatever

As long as it's real

Don't aim too high or become watched

By nosy eyes of the hills

Laws passed

Bodies pass

Spirit migrate to nothing

The bills piling up

Vacate the home abruptly

Like joints around the circle

Indefinitely burning

Disintegrate into air like sugar cane

In the furnace

I can be Robin when Batman's out on leave

I do it my way without burning any trees

The stress is in my skull

The threshold is pretty low

I want for my brother what I want for myself

Juke the opposition

Rebuke what's bad for my health

Making moves in silence

Winning medals in stealth

Waning gibbous up high

Grandpa said there's no bass in heaven

But there's no sound in hell

Just pick my punishment

And never tell anyone

■

[mywifeleftme]

309: Junior Kimbrough // All Night Long

All Night Long Junior Kimbrough 1993, Demon Records (Bandcamp)

“Crawling around in the dirt. Crawling around in the dirt between the rows of blooming, blinding white cotton in the field to the side of Junior’s old country juke, and this woman, Lord she must have been sixty, she was out there crawling around in the dirt, with me, I’m not lyin’! Both of us out there in the sun, drunk on white lightnin’ in the middle of the day! And it was a Sunday! Amps turned up all the way inside the shack, drums making the floorboards boom, you could hear it fine. Yeah out there in the dirt.”

That’s how Robert Palmer, an eminent rock critic turned filmmaker and music producer whose 1992 documentary Deep Blues sped along the rediscovery of Junior Kimbrough, opens his liner notes for All Night Long. It reads like a white New York Times writer trying to summarize a scene from True Detective in the voice of Toni Morrison, but there’s nearly always some degree of authenticity fetishism in prose about the blues. Palmer describes Kimbrough’s juke joint performances as orgiastic rituals, a head full of voodoo and a belly full of moonshine, sweaty, droning, folks drawn to the shack like moths to a light that could destroy them. It’s that thing that whites have found alluring and repellant about Black music since they first encountered it, the way it seems to provide something people desire in their gut without asking moral permission to do so.

Not having been by Junior’s place, I can’t really speak to Palmer’s assessment of the scenes (maybe he’d’ve described a college club in Provincetown called Hedonism in similar terms, who knows), but he made the right decision “producing” these recordings as little as possible. Kimbrough’s music does feel like something completely unreconstructed, these endless trudging jams with their reptilian pulses closer to African trance music than the tidy verse-chorus structures imposed by physical singles. He plays at ear-bleeding volume, unmindful of feedback, with a bone-dry tone that wouldn’t be out of place on a noise rock record. These are horny moan-songs about feeling good (often in the near-abstract way you get to drinking right before the spins hit) and staying out, though there’s a throbbing vein of violence and despair at the bottom of it.

Chances are my local Blues Society parents would have some trouble with his “You Better Run,” a bleak-humoured seven-and-a-half-minute nightmare about a woman pursued by a knife-wielding rapist. Kimbrough delivers it like one of those brimstone sermons about the perils of sin, only here there’s no sin implied, no God or Devil present, just this stalking, inevitable wraith, this thing that desires you as hungrily as a yawning grave. Kimbrough rescues the woman in his car towards the end of the song, but as he drives her home he drily warns her he might decide to rape her himself, only for her to reply that he won’t have to because she loves him. It’s a grim joke, but one that no doubt got a huge reaction from his regulars the same way the nastiest shit talk in a diss track gets people going—it’s the daring they applaud, the swagger of being badder than a bad world.

309/365

[sarockradio]

🚨 Final Call for 'Summer Vibes' Tickets with Dino Jag Live! 🎵

🌟 Don't Miss Out: Sunday Afternoon, 21st January at Murray Delta Juke Joint 🌟

Get ready for a thrilling afternoon of live music like no other! Join the international award-winning artist Dino Jag and his dynamic 7-piece band as they ignite the stage with their 'Summer Vibes' Concert Series.

🎸 Dive into an eclectic mix of funk, rock, and soul in an ambiance that mirrors the vibrant spirit of New Orleans. This concert is more than just live music – it's a festivity of extraordinary tunes and moments that'll stay with you long after the final note.

🚨Tickets Are Going Fast! 🚨

Don't miss out on witnessing the exceptional energy and charisma of Dino Jag and his band live. An unforgettable musical journey awaits.

🎟️ Book Now: https://www.trybooking.com/CMIDJ

Make sure to grab your tickets for an afternoon filled with exhilarating performances and pure joy at the Murray Delta Juke Joint. Let's make this a day to remember!

We're excited to share this musical adventure with you. See you there, music lovers! 🎉

#DinoJag #SummerVibesConcert #LiveMusic #MurrayDeltaJukeJoint #FunkRockSoul #ConcertSeries #GetYourTicketsNow

[tfc2211]

Play ▶ Yowza (Rockabilly / Rock & Roll Compilation)

Blue Suede Shoes - Elvis Presley Goliath Tigerfish - The Sirocco Bros. Long Gone Night Train - Gene Norman & The Rocking Rockets Lonely, Lonely Heart - Jimmy Reagan & The Rhythm Rockers Would Ja - Glen Glenn Champion The Wonder Horse - The Blubbery Hellbellies Butterfly - Charlie Gracie Rock And Roll Rock - Roy Kelly The Great Speckled Bird - Lloyd Arnold Lonesome Drifter - Jericho Brown My Baby's Gone Away - Danny Rivers & The Alexander Combo Rock On - Johnny Reb & His Rebels Rockin' Robin - Black Raven All Night Rock - Glenn Honeycutt Sunday Evening Blues - Marcel Bontempi Unlucky In Love - The Reverend Horton Heat Jezebel - The Reverend Horton Heat Lovin' Up A Storm - The Krazy Kats Frankie And Johnny - The Orbits One Dark Day - Dave Del Monte & the Cross County Boys Mama Don't You Think I Know - Jackie Lee Cochran Jesse James - Black Knights Weird Dreams - Wild Wax Combo Haunted Dreams - Wild Wax Combo Jessie Lee - Buck Griffin Down Bound Train - Marcel Bontempi Lights Out - The Reverend Horton Heat Big River - The Reverend Horton Heat Fancy Dan - Gene Summers & The Rebels Hunker In My Bunker - Dave Del Monte & the Cross County Boys Juke Joint Johnny - Lattie Moore Get Out Of My Car - Hasil Adkins Tennessee Tom Cat - Bobby Wall w/ Howard Biggs Hey Doll Baby - Pat Kelly & The Shamrocks Just Like You - Rusty York

[poetryfoundation-potd]

On a Sunday

By Quincy Troupe

for Amiri Baraka

eye remember seeing the oblong fruit—mango,

papaya—in a photo of a lynched black man's

head fixed above the exclamation point of his tad-

pole body, swaying easy in a tree in a gentle

breeze, it is summer in my memory, warm,

not yet swelteringly hot in southern steel country

alabama, outside birmingham, where

john coltrane blew hauntingly of four little black girls

blown to smithereens on a sunday, in church,

eye also remember hearing chuck berry playing guitar

on a sunday, in the back seat of his white cadillac car,

driven by his red-haired black wife, cruising st. louis

blues streets, singing, "roll over beethoven,

tell tchaikovsky the news, there's a new kind

of music called rhythm 'n' blues," on that sunday

the sky was blue as it was in my memory—

where all things are elusively fixed,

because nothing is ever permanent save change—

cobalt blue, sapphire blue, cerulean blue

when eye saw the lynched man's head in the photograph

oblique above the exclamation point of his tadpole body,

it was a sapphire-blue sunday in the deep freeze

of january, when barack obama

took the oath of office, became the forty-fourth

president of this divided nation in crisis,

the voices of reason were thrown out the window

like bathwater, soap, an infant in a small plastic tub,

a bawling baby hitting the ground, breath atomized

as vaporizing matter, misted into the air in a fog

like an elegy, a sunday listening to punditry talking—

points hitting the fan on TV screens, their elegies

leering all over the planet, richly paid for drivel,

their infested dialogue, their blather like plagues,

prattling disinformation, sluiced through airwaves,

zapping clueless people inside their atomized brains,

glued, as they are, to these talking heads flashing

expensive dental-wear as they natter their shopworn

rhetoric into cameras, connecting us to them

through plasma TV screens, on glory bird sundays

& the blues as a way of life everywhere, even on sundays

when all things are elusively fixed, even words of sermons,

because nothing is ever permanent save change,

the sky sometimes blue as a sapphire woman

wearing red, her hips moving from side to side, beckoning

with her sensuous, sashaying hips, come-t0-me-poppa strut,

seducing where the gospel of sweetness is elusively fixed

inside a church, a juke joint, the music hot as her allure,

hittin' it, layin' the mojo down, conjurin' up wicked

spirits, as poets raising the roof from its foundation up

into cerulean-blue, sapphire-blue, cobalt-blue air,

preachers running the gospel down on sundays with their

sermons everywhere, people living inside their memories,

where all things are elusively fixed, but here

nothing is ever permanent save change after change

nothing is ever permanent save change

https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/154944/on-a-sunday

No Audio Included

[marvelite624]

Shug Avery's story stole the show more than once...

"Why, Miss Celie...you still a virgin."

"I's married nah! Look, I's married"

"Maybe God is trying to tell you somethin'."

"See, Daddy? Even sinners have soul."

When she showed Celie what being loved should feel like...I melted into my seat. The scene was so heartbreaking and compassionate, lifting spirits across the theater. You could feel it as the curtain of taboo fell away. A more poignant scene I've never witnessed.

The desperation in her voice as she cried out to her father. She seemed so small and pitiful at that moment. So much in need of Daddy's approval...just a little attention...like Miss Celie, like the color purple...

I've never been a physically reactive person to films (such behavior always annoys me) but, as Shug lead the Juke Joint to Sunday service, I stood with the crowd in cheering her on! Followed by girly-man blubbering, as I slunk back into my seat rubbing butter and popcorn salt into my eyes.

This movie dragged me across the entire spectrum of human emotions and I left the theater feeling very thankful for the experience.

[jeanvaljean24601]

P-Valley Season 1 Review: Belly and Legacy

After being jailed for fighting with Patrice, The Pynk's O.G. found herself potentially stuck in a cell with her mother for the weekend on P-Valley Season 1 Episode 5. Her jailer was Jesse, a man with whom she had gotten into a disagreement at the club. So he wasn't inclined to help her out. Poor Mercedes. Unlike many of her peers, she had set up a path to respectability and was carefully following it. She should be admired for that.

She wanted to be the coach of her own dance squad, to bring accolades to Chucalissa. Based on what's been shown of the town, the question of why comes to mind. The upshot of that plan was that Mercedes's biological daughter, Terrica, was on her squad. Also, once Mercedes was running her own business, she would stand a better chance legally of regaining some form of custody of Terrica.

However, that plan went awry when Terrica started flaunted her body on social media on  P-Valley Season 1 Episode 3 and her stepmother pulled her off Mercedes's team as a result, viewing Mercedes as a bad influence. So now Mercedes can't even see Terrica anymore.

Even worse, Mercedes forgot all about their checkered family history (much of which came to light) and trusted Patrice with her money.For a bright woman, that was sure a dumb choice. Patrice managed to rip off both Mercedes and the church which she felt had wronged her.

Patrice felt unappreciated by the men in her church. So she took Mercedes's money and used it to buy the building Mercedes wanted in which to establish her church.

The money they can't afford to drop at The Pynk would instead be spent at the casino. The town treasury would probably get a cut and Mayor Ruffin undoubtedly would be getting a kickback. But the residents, unless they end up working there, would be no better off.

Instead of her triumphant departure from The Pynk, Mercedes, in her new performance outfit, got perp-walked and treated like a piece of meat by the men (and some women) jailed there.

Jesse, the jailer, felt bad enough for her that he offered her his jacket so she could cover herself. Mercedes did the right thing turning down Clifford's offer of bail because she knew he had much bigger financial problems on his hands.

Give Gidget credit. Despite being miffed with Mercedes, she still attempted to put together the bail money. If only Mercedes hadn't dug herself such a deep hole legally.

Why did Autumn bail out Mercedes, despite their rivalry? She was probably just being opportunistic. She couldn't use her fake identity any more to transfer funds electronically, so she needed someone desperate to become her new partner in crime.

But maybe she sensed a kindred soul, someone else who had lost a daughter. Why else would she share her history which she has kept secret since arriving in town? In any event, it could prove a mutually beneficial arrangement. Autumn needs money to keep running and Mercedes just needs to replenish her stacks.

But Autumn's abusive boyfriend Montavius, from whom she's running, has arrived in Chucalissa. And he somehow seemed to be able to track her transfers as well. So Mercedes may be in trouble as well. Also in trouble was Uncle Clifford. If she's been falling deeper and deeper in the hole financially for months, even years, how is she supposed to come up with $55,000 in two weeks?

Why was she was at all surprised? It was clear that Mayor Ruffin had it for her. Trading The Pynk for the casino, which is his legacy project is a win-win situation for Ruffin. Ruffin is a truly despicable character who is looking out only for himself and uses people when it benefits him. Once he referred to Andre as his godson, it became apparent why Andre has had anything to do with him.

Chucalissa is proving to be a place where strange partnerships blossom. Unusual, beneficial relationships formed on P-Valley Season 1 Episode 6, all of which promise intrigue over the season's last two episodes. My favorite, even though it hasn't fully formed yet, was the last one, developing between the strangest bedfellows -- strip-club owner Uncle Clifford and holy-roller Patrice.

It was based on that oldie but goodie bit of wisdom by Sun Tzu: "The enemy of my enemy is my friend."The enemy, in this case, would be the proposed casino, which Andre and the mayor are seeking to build in Chucalissa.

In Clifford's case, he was trying to preserve his family's legacy. What a great addition his grandmother Ernestine was this late in the season! It's a good thing Starz has already renewed the series for a second season.Blind Ernestine, who lost her sight to "the sugar," helped to fill in The Pynk's storied if sordid history. So Ernestine was involved with The Pynk, which was first a brothel, saved by God if you believe her, then a juke joint.

Then Clifford took over the club and its debts, changing it into a shake joint while adding to the debt. Is it any wonder that the respectable people in town resent The Pynk (except when they are there)? Let's count Patrice among those people. However, she is going to hate the concept of a casino even more. After all, people losing their money at a casino couldn't contribute to her new church.

At least those who go to The Pynk on Saturday night will donate to the church out of guilt on Sunday morning, paying for their sins.So the club is the lesser of two evils. I'd wondered why Clifford had seemed catty to the mayor's comely assistant Eloise.

So it turned out that Eloise was a Pynk alumna who had done Maite's job before her. No wonder Clifford was unhappy about being blindsided with the foreclosure notice. Both the sheriff she pays off and former employee Eloise failed to give her any advanced warning. But Clifford knew how to lay on the guilt after "running into" Eloise at her weekly nail treatment. That proved to be the move she needed to make.

That was because Eloise resented the mayor and his cronies even more than Clifford did. And she knew that Clifford needed to bring the secret project into the daylight for the public to consider. Who better to recruit for this effort than the self-righteous, and what better representative of that group than Patrice, who had been waiting to be bailed out of jail for nine days?

Clifford hadn't made his proposal by episode's end, but the writing was on the wall, to put things in Biblical terms.How can an alliance between those two be anything but uneasy? And what will Mercedes think about Clifford teaming up with the woman who ruined her life?

Mercedes was too busy learning the ins and outs of identity theft to give much thought to Patrice. She was trying to get back on her feet financially after Patrice ripped off her life savings. Watching Mercedes and Autumn do their Thelma-and-Louise routine, in a variety of different outfits, you had to wonder why the two never hit it off previously. android tv box

It was probably because Mercedes had it in for high-yella newcomer Autumn, who wasn't giving proper deference to O.G. Mercedes.But Mercedes needed to replenish her stacks, and Autumn required Mercedes's local connections so that they could come up with sufficient IDs for Autumn's electronic-transfer scheme.

[mangus-khan-blog]

Sunday Juke Joint #1

As you may have figured out by now, I love music of all kinds. I decided to dedicate Sundays to my favorite genre, Jazz. Each Sunday, I’ll post four tracks. Sometimes, they may be a theme and other times, they will be tracks of what I am feeling on that particular day. This week, we are looking at jazz covers of songs originally released in a different genre. So, if you hate jazz, I will be back…

[893thecurrent]

The Viking Bar’s most recent, and final, closing night happened in January 2018, amid a management dispute that saw the West Bank landmark shut down less than two years after a high-profile reopening. The true legacy of this 1905 venue, which opened as the Viking in 1959, was cemented with a sweaty 2006 show headlined by local legend Willie Murphy.

“The wake signaled an end to the days when Willie Murphy and friends crowded the small Viking stage and spilled onto the floor, making people get up and boogie on the old tile floor,” wrote historian Cyn Collins in the Twin Cities Daily Planet. “It also brought an end to the regular Friday night shows with the Front Porch Swinging Liquor Pigs and KFAI Radio’s ‘Jackson’s Juke Joint.’ We’ll miss the legendary Mardi Gras parties on Sundays, when Spider John Koerner entertained us with his foot-stomping old folk blues while we indulged in Marty Johnson’s grilled chicken and brats.”

On that final night of the original Viking, though, Murphy and his peers gave Minneapolis a night to remember. “Old and young, hippies and punks, activists and anarchists danced wildly on the benches, bartop, and floors throughout the packed bar,” reported Collins. “Many were dancing as they came in the door. The crowd grew wilder as the night went on, and even a fight or two even broke out — just like in the old days. Musicians and patrons poured inside and out, sharing their memories and grief at this loss, one of the few remaining posts of the historic West Bank music scene.”

We’re revisiting 15 unforgettable Minnesota concerts from the 15 years The Current has been on the air.

[chaotic-bells]

50 questions you’ve never been asked.

Yey! Thanks @ijustkeepondancing​ for the tag! It’s currently 4AM and I can’t sleep, so this is great.

1. what is the colour of your hairbrush? Black

2. a food you never eat? I love fish, but I almost never eat it, mostly because I still haven’t found a good place to buy that’s close to my house, and I’ll be honest... I miss Brazilian river fish. Kind of tired of the eternal cod/hake/salmon that’s pretty much everywhere in Ireland. Now, if you’re asking about what I never eat because I hate it... rhubarb comes to mind. Or anything that’s too bitter. Oh, also anything that’s too spicy. I don’t mind pepper - as long as you can taste the other flavors in the food. If it’s too hot it kind of ruins the whole thing. (I’m passionate about food. I could go on, seriously)

3. are you typically too warm or too cold?  I usually run too warm, and I love the cold, so I am the weirdo at the office that has a usb chargeable mini fan turned on during winter.

4. what were you doing 45 minutes ago? sleeping. Then i woke up because my allergy decided to act up and now i can’t sleep again. it’s 4AM. This tag game saved my night from tossing and turning, so thanks.

5. what is your favourite candy bar? Snickers.

6. have you ever been to a professional sports event? yeah. not my thing.

7. what is the last thing you said out loud? “Meu princepezinho” (my little prince in portuguese). To my cat. In an annoying baby voice. While I covered him in kisses. Yeah, I’m one of those. To my defense, he likes it and kisses back (he pushes his face against my cheek) and turns belly up while purring. You try to resist him.

8. what is your favourite ice cream? Strawberry, at least for now. Love mint choc chip, or cherry.

9. what was the last thing you had to drink? Water

10. do you like your wallet? ooh yeah. It’s this one from Killstar, that my friends gave me for my 30th birthday. I love it.

11. what was the last thing you ate? Dinner - I made steak, sauteed mushrooms and roast potato. It was delicious.

12. did you buy any new clothes last weekend? nope. i haven’t bough clothes since mid January. 

13. the last sporting event you watched? the virtual F1 Liam participated. I was gonna watch anyway cause F1 is probably the only sport I watch, but I thought it was such a fun idea since everything was cancelled. And then I saw Liam was in it and I got really excited for him! 

14. what is your favourite flavour of popcorn? If freshly popped, butter with a dash of tabasco, if store bought, sweet and salty.

15. who is the last person you sent a text message to? Does whatsapp count? My friend, with a link for the Secret Celebrity RPDR teaser. She is addicted to RPDR, and I am extremely curious about which celebrities will be in drag. I think it can be fun.

16. ever go camping? Probably. Can’t remember.

17. do you take vitamins? No

18. do you go to church every sunday? No

19. do you have a tan? No. I try to stay away from the sun as much as I can.

20. do you prefer chinese food or pizza? Pizza

21. do you drink your soda with a straw? No

22. what colour socks do you usually wear? Black.

23. do you ever drive above the speed limit? I don’t drive

24. what terrifies you? Ocean and heights

25. look to your left, what do you see? Bedside table and my makeup desk which is currently transformed as my temporary office.

26. what chore do you hate? Cleaning - just everything about it. However, I am very allergic to dust mite (hence being up at 4AM, almost 5 now), and I have to constantly clean everything.

27. what do you think of when you hear an australian accent? well, depends on what they’re saying. lol

28. what’s your favourite soda? any lemon/lime ones like Sprite or 7Up.

29. do you go in a fast food place or just hit the drive-thru? I don’t drive, so drive-thru is not really an option.

30. who’s the last person you talked to? My ex-husband (we live together)

31. favourite cut of beef? Picanha.

32. last song you listened to? Juke Joint Blues, by Justin Johnson. If you like blues, check him out on YouTube. One of my favorite guitar players. He’s so good.

33. last book you read? Uh, it’s actually been a while. I think it was The Rosary Girls (Richard Montanari)?

34. favourite day of the week? Don’t really have one

35. can you say the alphabet backwards? I can barely say it the right way. I definitely need to go over the whole thing if I want to remember the order of certain letters (like if I’m looking into something that’s ordered alphabetically, I need to go... KLMNOP - ok, so O is before). *shrugs*

36. how do you like your coffee? cold and sweet

37. favourite pair of shoes? my glitter wedge. it’s multicolored glitter, so it’s like a freaking rainbow. (these are the exact ones. It’s from Asos, but I think they stopped selling it).

38. at what time do you normally go to bed? Usually midnight or 1AM

39. at what time do you normally get up? 07:30

40. what do you prefer, sunrise or sunsets? Sunrise - not the rise itself, but that half an hour just before it gets bright that still feels it’s night.

41. how many blankets are on your bed? 2.

42. describe your kitchen plates. Really? White, round. No border.

43. do you have a favourite alcoholic beverage? Depends on my mood. Probably tequila.

44. do you play cards? Yes

45. what colour is your car? White and red. Looks like this:

46. can you change a tire? Despite the fact that I don’t drive - yes. That’s been tested when I was on the road with my boss at 3AM and she was driving like a lunatic in a road that was more holes than actual road and she destroyed the tire and made me change it.

47. what is your favourite province? Province? Where?

48. favourite job you’ve ever had? My current one - IT

49. how did you get your biggest scar? I don’t have many anymore. I used to have a pretty big one on my leg. My grandmother was lifting something, there was a piece of glass stuck to the bottom of it and it fell straight into my leg when she walked close to me. The scar was like... 15cm long, but it disappeared as I grew older. 

50. what did you do today that made someone else happy? Does work count? I brought a hotel’s website back to life. Client was very happy.

This is a pretty long game, so I’ll just tag @whatagreatproblemtohave​ but please feel free to jump in and answer these if you think you’ll have fun!!

[afroklectic]

@broadsheet_syd | Local knowledge : @alittlelagos @alittlelagos will be at @earlsjukejoint on Sunday Sep 1 from 5-9pm dishing out meat pies, goat stew and jollof rice 🇳🇬🇳🇬🇳🇬 (at Earl's Juke Joint) https://www.instagram.com/p/B1c9Giql-yq/?igshid=1epqj2yywlvak

[projazznet]

Dorothy Dandridge and Paul White – A Zoot Suit (For My Sunday Gal)

“A Zoot Suit (For My Sunday Gal) was written by Wolfe Gilbert and Bob O’Brien. It received a lot of attention; it was one of the most popular tunes of its time. It was played on jukeboxes, in diners, bars, and juke joints everywhere. It seemed to say something valid and important about the music and spirit of the times.

[lettingangelsfall]

III [speak of the devil]

If she hadn't been so exhausted from the night before, Canela would have cleaned the death of a mess in the kitchen.

After peering at the monstrosity, she wondered if she were indeed deprived of sleep or just lazy.

Her left eyebrow rose almost leisurely with irritation.

"This doesn't go here." She grumbled, stepping closer to one of her steel pans placed on the counter adjacent to the stove.

Instead of rolling up her sleeves, Canela disrobed. Fully nude, she began washing her kitchen from top to bottom. She hated rolling her sleeves. The bleach would still somehow end up soaking her entire upper body. So Instead of a discolored satin robe, she preferred scarcely wet skin and dry fabric.

It was simple.

And she could simply do it for hours with a smile on her face.

The telephone chimed, interrupting Canela's even flow of cleanly bliss.

She hurried to answer it after tightening her robe. The water from the sink was still running.

Her index finger, matching the color of the telephone wavered slowly across the dial. She wondered if it were the strange man who bought her cocktail dresses or the city calling to let her know her grass needed cutting.

She answered it abruptly with closed eyes, wishing it was neither of the two.

"Rowe Residence, may I assist you with a room?"

Why she answered the phone wasn't a mystery.

"A room?"

"Why, yes." She answered, recognizing the husky voice. "I offer bed and breakfast services."

"I know, sweetheart. I'm not calling for a room unless that's what you want."

She didn't blush. She giggled, making sure he heard.

"What do you want?" She questioned.

"I'm heading to a party at seven o'clock."

"And?"

"I'd like you to join me."

This would make the second time her and him had hit the town together and if it would be anything like the last time, Canela would be better off in the house for the night.

She imagined how cozy she would be with or without him.

However, the sound of being with him sounded a hell of a lot better.

"Seven, yes?"

"...I'll be there on the dot. Hey, wear the dress I got you."

She hated the sound of the telephone ringing.

_______

"Mademoiselle," The burly man pronounced, opening his hand to assist his date as she stepped out of his black Mercedes.

She smiled, peering over the stirring atmosphere. The air was beginning to seep into night time and the women were all the rage. The way they sauntered around with their little waist lines and long heels fascinated Canela. How could they be so poised yet seem so helpless?

Sebastian grinned sensually, gripping her hips as to escort her into the building.

"Embryo," Canela spoke weakly, repeating the words placed across the blue box of a building.

"Sebastian, where did you find this place?"

"I grew up here, honey. Why do you ask?"

"There's something about it. I can't quite put my finger on it." She pondered.

"Do you like it?" He quizzed, hoping she was impressed. As if she didn't have enough reason to be completely enamored by his charm.

"Like it?" Canela asked with a gloved finger covering her red lips.

Before she could answer, she was encapsulated by the ring of excitement shifting the dim lit ballroom.

Suddenly, the raucous blow of a horn grabbed her and asked her to dance. There were show girls of every kind brushing their tails and bussoms up against her, sporting bunny ears and white bustiers. Money was being thrown every which way. Bottles were bursting louder than the bang of the jazz and cups were poured for the best of the actresses in America. Marilyn Monroe gave her a wink before toasting with her associates.

"Love the dress," She heard from a woman passing by who looked a lot like Audrey Hepburn.

She was shocked that people cared more about what color her dress was than the color of her skin. Women of every race, color, and creed had decided to step out that night with the finest men on their arms and Canela was enthralled to be apart of the crowd.

She had never seen a place like it. It was most certainly nothing like the juke joint.

Canela felt the gruffness of Sebastian's palm on her exposed back.

"How about this seat, darling." He winked.

"For sure," She smiled, taking a seat in a round pink sofa surrounding a white marble table.

They were handed a menu and a cocktail by one of the bunny clad girls. Canela observed Sebastian carefully as the hostess laid their coasters in front of them.

"He's trying so hard not to look,"  Canela laughed to herself. "But he just can't help it. A man is only addicted to a woman."

Before they could surf the flimsy little menu, an older couple entered the room soon sitting across from them on the pink sofa.

"Oh, what a beautiful couple," The lady struck. "Aren't they, Thomas?"

"Are you all married?" Thomas asked.

Canela quickly drew her left hand close to her lap, shuddering at the thought.

"Soon to be..." Said Sebastian, taking a long sip of his cocktail.

"Ladies and gentlemen," The host boomed before Canela could say anything in response. "I sure hope you all are having a good time tonight. We've got a great show for you's..."

Canela's eyes shifted towards her date. His handsome jaws situated perfectly to her. The way his eyes creased when he smiled nearly made her flood the entire room. If she were a dam, everyone would have drowned that night.

It was almost as if he knew she were watching, the way his little dimple danced across his cheeks.

He licked his lips slowly after taking another swig of his drink, when Canela noticed something more absurd than the tails on the rear-ends of the show girls.

Canela's hand bound to her lips.

"A ring!" She gasped.

Sebastian's head cut quickly towards Canela.

"What's that, darling?" He said, folding his left hand in his lap.

"Give it up for our sweetheart, our madly insatiable, and our playful little elf, Regina Combs!"

The crowd roared with applause, making it impossible for Canela to repeat her shocking discovery. The amount of time it took for the crowd to die down gave Canela enough time to contemplate whether she should bring it up anymore. Instead she only smiled, stealing a sip of Sebastian's drink.

His dimple danced once more before Canela cuddled closer to him, watching the show and making a mental note to watch him as well.

She would be sure to keep an eye on him for the rest of the night and the rest of her time knowing him. Regardless of how she felt about the way his jaw made love to his face.

Never would she bring up the ring unless he told her about it. And she was sure he would come around eventually. Even if she had to make him.

A man is only addicted to a woman.

"It was fascination, I know. And it might have ended right there at the start..."

Regina Combs had a stage presence of milk and honey with a dash of rose petals. Her eyes really knew how to enthrall a man but somehow control his wife's suspicion. All the while, she was broadcasted on television as America's sweetheart and an inspiration to young girls. Little did they know what their fathers thought of Miss. Regina when they weren't around.

"Seeing you alone in the moonlight above..."

"Honey," Sebastian whispered in her ear, causing her to jump. "I didn't mean to scare you."

"It's quite alright," Canela smiled, never taking her eyes off of the stage. "What a beautiful dress."

"I wanted to...alter the condition a bit."

"The condition? What condition?"

"The condition we made a deal about. I would help you get more people to come to your hotel."

"Bed and Breakfast." She corrected, eyes glued on Regina. "How does she get her hair to stay like that? I just have to know."

"Marry me, Canela."

The words bellowed in the drums of her ears. The way he said it formed a knit between her eyebrows.

"How could you just demand something like that?" She raged quietly.

"Babydoll, I'm sorry. I-"

"Take me home. This instant!"

_______

"I'll call you," Sebastian called, before his voice was cut off from the slam of his car door.

Canela stomped across the pavement, carefully lifting her white shawl meters from the ground so she wouldn't trip and fall. She noticed how Sebastian sped off once she got to her door. As she fumbled around in her purse for the key, she noticed the light was still on in the gas station across the street.

Canela by no means had twenty-twenty vision. However, anyone could see that someone was in the window of that station. Canela wondered who would be looking out the window at this hour. The very thought of it gave her an uneasy chill, as she hurriedly squeezed into the house.

Closing the door behind her, she collapsed slowly onto the floor in a puddle of tears, heels, and her expensive shawl.

"Oh, I hate it here," She cried, taking the cumbrous pins out of her hair.

As she sat there sulking, she began to reminisce about the past.

All the lovers she'd ever known were few and far between.

His name was Andrew, but everyone called him Bleu. He was as dark as night with a soul brighter than the sun. She remembered spending mornings with him in the spring and nights with him in the summer. He would sing to her any song she wanted to hear, picking from his plethora of negro spiritual hymns. That was all he knew, since his mama made him go to church every Sunday.

She was his Sunday and he was her entire weekend.

"I love you, honey." He used to say.

Of course, this was before the war. She remembered the day of the draft. It was raining cats and dogs and she couldn't go outside. She couldn't lie to mother and say she was going to pick flowers.

He wrote her a letter and that was that.

Sunday was over.

Canela picked herself up, making herself a glass wine aged from 1907.

She sauntered around the living room, wishing a tune would accompany her drunken waltz. After turning on the record player, she finally had a dance partner.

"Wonder when my baby's comin' home..." She sang, swiping her makeup off with her bare hands.

"He doesn't love me!" She cried. "He only wants me because of my looks. That's all they ever want. Besides, he's married for CHRIST'S SAKE!"

With that, Canela catapulted the glass of wine towards the wall in front of her, sending it into thousands of tiny pieces of glass.

As Canela cried, the front doorbell rang accompanied by a few quick knocks. It was obviously a woman.

Canela quickly got ahold of herself, tying her hair into the tightest knot one could ever tie.

"Coming!" She pronounced, fixing her dress and makeup.

Taking a deep breath, she opened the door.

"Hello, welcome to Canela's Bed and Break-"

What occupied the other end of the threshold sent Canela into an underlying fright.

Is it really her? Why, it couldn't be?

The diamonds, the dress, and the pearls could only belong to one woman.

"Well," The woman demanded. "Are you gonna let me in or just stand there? You've probably seen me on television...

I'm Regina Combs."

[brothermarc7theatre]

Seattle-to-Fresno Mini-Rogue Festival, Review Round-up Day 1

“Small fest. Big risks.”-The calling card for this year’s Mini-Rogue fringe festival. To be known before reading this round-up of reviews, I am of a breed of critical audience members who happen to have a blog in which I review shows. I am a HUGE fan of what the Rogue/Mini-Rogue festivals bring to the Fresno area each year. Risk. Take a chance on art. Every “established,” commercial playwright, composer, and performer has done it at some point. These fringe artists are here to bring their experiences, talents, and above all, calling to entertain you, the audience. They’re here to challenge, to make laugh, to garner applause, and to simply make a living by doing what they love most. I challenge you to take a chance on this small fest, enjoy the risk they’re taking, and support these travelling and local artists who are creating.

 “The Change”

The opening billing for the mini-rogue was a dance show titled, The Change. This four-act collective was strung together by the common theme of how times have been changing based on one event affecting the next, also known as the “Butterfly Effect.” A talented conglomeration of dancers culminate in what is a solid troupe delivering commentary and technique in the form of dance expression. The opening act, “La La Land,” takes on the opioid crisis in physical form, made complete by pill bottles, dancer’s lines, and ensemble formations. With direction by Jackie Hunsaker, the message and affect opioids and cell phones have is communicated by way of disconnect-ivity to the audience while relaying the message of “please plug back into human existence.” Act two brings the number “Hooded,” led and staged by Zachary V. Garcia. Though this dance is the outlier from the three other dances in terms of style and concept, it certainly delivers the message it intends; “…societal fear and motivates our actions and belief systems…”-Mr. Garcia. It is very much an in-your-face performance for the audience, and certainly by design. With some lovely balletic turns, “Hooded” has depth and thought-provoking inclinations if one is paying close enough attention. Act Three brings William Davis’ staging of four superb dancers, relaying a fantastic “Role Reversal” turn as two duet dancers. The dance is simply beautiful, employing technique, storytelling, and chemistry to deliver a well-choreographed dance. There is nuance creatively infused in the execution, and this act is a step above the rest in terms of the legit dance chops while still honoring the titular theme. The finale, “Juke Joint Says,” staged by Miz-Unique Slater, is a fantastic, smart, all-out final act that is personality-driven and rooted in African-American culture. The choice songs, “Do I Move You” by Nina Simone and “Push ‘Da Button” from The Color Purple are given stellar choreography while being the culmination of this dance piece. Every dancer is highlighted well, and given the chance to truly shine.

You can catch The Change in its final performance of the Mini-Rogue on Sunday at 7:30pm. 

“It’s Strangely Mannix”

A magician and musician walk into the backroom of a café and what do you get? Sore cheeks from laughter. Rogue staples Tim Mannix and Strangely have combined for a tour-de-force performance in It’s Strangely Mannix. The two artists have enough experience to deliver and sell just how off-the-cuff this show may be, while exuding enough self-deprecating humor along with audience heckling to fully entertain.  But antics aside, when the show is done, the audience leaves satisfied having been thoroughly impressed by Mr. Mannix’s and Mr. Strangely’s subtle and grand magic tricks. Plus, you’ll have accordion-accompanied tunes and card tricks to your heart’s content, all on a train of non-stop laughs. For a lighthearted venture into the magical and musical world of these two stellar performers, do check out It’s Strangely Mannix playing today at 4:30pm.

“Fringe Factor”

It may have been for one night and one night only, but you bet your paycheck that I did not miss Grant Evan Knutson and company host a lively romp of the live game show, Fringe Factor. A one-night stand to help pay the rent (“‘cause Fringe Fests ain’t cheap, y’all!”-Mr. Knutson), Mr. Knutson brought back his always-popular game show to the Mini-Rogue. It was visiting artists vs. local artists in a four-round (which became five rounds) game show, where the visitors left victorious. Among the games and musical entertainment by Strangely, was an audience cheering as all get out, and the featured performers of this year’s Mini-Rogue festival competing for bragging rights and bubbles. With the main goal being the cost of rent for the venue (The Backroom at The Revue), this show was more than just entertainment and loud cheering, it was to help further support art, artists, and what it takes to bring fringe theatre to Fresno. If you see anyone cruising around Tower who is affiliated with the Mini-Rogue, consider donating some change or bills in lieu of time (if you’re too busy to see a show, that is) and support the way you can to continue the fringe experience for Fresn-ans and travelling artists alike!