Red light music
Oct. 16th, 2007 12:37 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jack_babalonRed light on the corner of Moreland and Euclid. STOP!
Behind me, at the Chevron parking lot, three Brothers stand outside their jet black SUV, with every door on their ride spread wide open (resembling at a glance some colossal insect ready to take flight from the gas station) releasing a steady flood of deep bass beats that reverb steadily across Little Five Points.
The Three Brothers are all wearing dark tinted glasses despite the night time and each seem to be dressed in matching desinger purple jogging outfits that probably cost more than most three piece suits. They form a tight circle around this Little Five character who's playing his handheld flute to the booty-shake music as quick as he can. The character is this skinny white guy in wire glasses, dressed up in a violet peasant blouse with matching if you were blind green coudroy pants. He's doing this hop-a-long-i'm-the-great-god-Pan dance: Long chalk colored haired, streaked with the last shades of sandy brown, flails Headbanger style and gray sneakers, bounded to his hooves by thick slashes of electrical tape, clop frantically to the beat of the vehicles sound system.
Listening to the flute snake, slide, glide and dance along the rollercoaster ride of electronic percussion one can't help but notice how well the two styles mesh up together. A kind of 'you got your Peanut butter in my chocolate' moment. The flute is whimsical, a butterflys flight through a terrible thunderstorm or the daydream of a child waiting in a bunker for the bombs to stop dropping. I'm not the only one who notices. The Old Korean Patriarch who runs the Chevron is standing to the side of the doorway, smoking a cigarette and watching the dancing flute-man keep up with a vicious rhythm roll of some shake-yo-booty track. A ball-cap and shorts couple aim their camera phones over the three Brothers and a flash mob of gawkers begin to fill up the lot much to the dismay of people needing to get their gas.
Out of the three Brothers though, two stand with folded arms and fronting hard line stoicism. Only the biggest of the three bobs his head along to the beat as his fingers stroke his chin thoughtfully, hearing something the rest of us can't. Something beyond the flute and percussion barrage.
Green light on the corner of Moreland and Euclid. GO!
Behind me, at the Chevron parking lot, three Brothers stand outside their jet black SUV, with every door on their ride spread wide open (resembling at a glance some colossal insect ready to take flight from the gas station) releasing a steady flood of deep bass beats that reverb steadily across Little Five Points.
The Three Brothers are all wearing dark tinted glasses despite the night time and each seem to be dressed in matching desinger purple jogging outfits that probably cost more than most three piece suits. They form a tight circle around this Little Five character who's playing his handheld flute to the booty-shake music as quick as he can. The character is this skinny white guy in wire glasses, dressed up in a violet peasant blouse with matching if you were blind green coudroy pants. He's doing this hop-a-long-i'm-the-great-god-Pan dance: Long chalk colored haired, streaked with the last shades of sandy brown, flails Headbanger style and gray sneakers, bounded to his hooves by thick slashes of electrical tape, clop frantically to the beat of the vehicles sound system.
Listening to the flute snake, slide, glide and dance along the rollercoaster ride of electronic percussion one can't help but notice how well the two styles mesh up together. A kind of 'you got your Peanut butter in my chocolate' moment. The flute is whimsical, a butterflys flight through a terrible thunderstorm or the daydream of a child waiting in a bunker for the bombs to stop dropping. I'm not the only one who notices. The Old Korean Patriarch who runs the Chevron is standing to the side of the doorway, smoking a cigarette and watching the dancing flute-man keep up with a vicious rhythm roll of some shake-yo-booty track. A ball-cap and shorts couple aim their camera phones over the three Brothers and a flash mob of gawkers begin to fill up the lot much to the dismay of people needing to get their gas.
Out of the three Brothers though, two stand with folded arms and fronting hard line stoicism. Only the biggest of the three bobs his head along to the beat as his fingers stroke his chin thoughtfully, hearing something the rest of us can't. Something beyond the flute and percussion barrage.
Green light on the corner of Moreland and Euclid. GO!
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Collective Works
on 2007-10-17 02:42 am (UTC)Re: Collective Works
on 2007-10-17 06:15 pm (UTC)The guy you want to talk to is
Re: Collective Works
on 2007-10-19 09:27 pm (UTC)