Last week L. turned the big 3-0. At the last moment she and Fat T. decided to have a party to celebrate that fact. So I made some rearrangements to my ever-so-overbrimming social calendar in order to drive up there Friday night and join in. The plan was to go to
Southpaw and enjoy the musical stylings of
PitchBlak Brass Band. I arrived in Brooklyn just in time to hoof it over to the venue with L., Fat T., N. and J. Soon after our arrival, C.S. joined us. Don't believe me? Look, there she is.
The music was good. So many people playing brass instruments. There was a female sax soloist, certainly channeling Rob Lowe's character in St. Elmo's Fire as far as putting a little sexy into it. I kept trying to figure out how this group found one another. I imagined they had all been kids in band during their youth, but that most of them had real lives and jobs, keeping their love of brass in a nearby closet or something. And then lo, one day, they found each other and a super brass band was formed. Or who knows. Brass shining and reflecting.
I tried their beer and a shot deal, as did CS. Little Kings is a weird beer that I did not particularly care for.
L. at one point foisted a Red Bull in my hand, which was no better than the Little Kings. My face tells the story of how I felt about both.
J., L. and C.
A triple high five moment outside.
Dunno what this is about, but it's happening.
Squeeeze.
This photograph astounds me. It looks like C. is having an awful time and half of L.'s face went and had a stroke. I don't believe it's accurate to either lady, but the result is interesting.
Fat T. looking more chipper than I believe he was. Curmudge-a-grump.
I didn't even really try to take good photos of the band. My track record of getting worthwhile shots of live music is just awful and I chose not to get frustrated.
C. left, but not before she lost her phone. Once the music was over we then went on to
Union Hall, where I would lose my wallet then find it ... minus $40.
A fun, if truly debaucherous night. L. has a few more photos that I felt were stellar, but I don't have them. So there's that. A great big thank you goes to J. for taking on the task of keeping an eye on L. and me at the end of the night.
The music was good. So many people playing brass instruments. There was a female sax soloist, certainly channeling Rob Lowe's character in St. Elmo's Fire as far as putting a little sexy into it. I kept trying to figure out how this group found one another. I imagined they had all been kids in band during their youth, but that most of them had real lives and jobs, keeping their love of brass in a nearby closet or something. And then lo, one day, they found each other and a super brass band was formed. Or who knows. Brass shining and reflecting.
I tried their beer and a shot deal, as did CS. Little Kings is a weird beer that I did not particularly care for.
L. at one point foisted a Red Bull in my hand, which was no better than the Little Kings. My face tells the story of how I felt about both.
J., L. and C.
A triple high five moment outside.
Dunno what this is about, but it's happening.
Squeeeze.
This photograph astounds me. It looks like C. is having an awful time and half of L.'s face went and had a stroke. I don't believe it's accurate to either lady, but the result is interesting.
Fat T. looking more chipper than I believe he was. Curmudge-a-grump.
I didn't even really try to take good photos of the band. My track record of getting worthwhile shots of live music is just awful and I chose not to get frustrated.
C. left, but not before she lost her phone. Once the music was over we then went on to Union Hall, where I would lose my wallet then find it ... minus $40.
A fun, if truly debaucherous night. L. has a few more photos that I felt were stellar, but I don't have them. So there's that. A great big thank you goes to J. for taking on the task of keeping an eye on L. and me at the end of the night.
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