A short tale of music, parking, sickness, coffee, and more music.

After the (fabulous) Southside Johnny show on Saturday night, me and TheWife™ headed back to our hotel. This little bed & breakfast, being housed on the second story of an old mill building, didn't have its own parking lot. They did have an arrangement with the church across the way but cars had to be moved by 7:30AM on Sunday morning. Right. So we looked for parking on the street. Nothing. It's heading toward midnight and I'm getting impatient. We circle around and decide to park at a brightly lit parking garage right around the corner from the inn. After getting a ticket from the clicking dispenser thingie, we park and walk back to the inn.

Sunday morning comes and I wake to a very unpleasant sinus headache. What the heck, I only had one drink last night! Thinking on it for a bit, I decided that the inn, being quite old, must have a hidden mold problem. A hot shower didn't help all that much. Nuts. We pack up and decide to drive across town in search of giant breakfast food. We toddle down the hill toward the garage and are met with the sight of the pull-down metal grates securely locked. Next to the ticket booth is a sign with a phone number on it. Apparently, if you're really desperate, you can get your car out for twenty-five bucks.

Right, screw that! It's almost 10AM. We'll walk to the coffee shop and hang out for a couple of hours. Geezuz, who the hell ever heard of a parking garage not opening until noon?!

I must say that it was fun eating a croissant, drinking coffee, and reading a book on Captain Beefheart's Trout Mask Replica. I would have enjoyed it more if I wasn't so dizzy from the headache. That and the brutal sound of that annoying espresso/milk steamer thing. I just can't believe that barista chick runs that machine without hearing protection.

The hours pass and we walk back down to the 'bad' garage so as to transfer the car to the 'good' garage, after which I walk over to my favorite record shop. First up is a copy of Billy Cobham's Spectrum. I've been writing up something on Cobham (shhhhh...for another publication) and have discovered that I've never owned it on CD. Next album is Marc Ribot's guitar-based spin on the music of John Zorn's Masada. Third is the remastered and expanded Daydream Nation, Sonic Youth at their height of beautiful noise. I also tossed in Momento by Bebel Gilberto so as to give TheWife™ a break from the sound mayhem on the way home (though I hope she doesn't look at any of the pictures... yeow!)

By this time, the sinus/brain fog had worn off. We crossed the street again and indulged in some barbecue to complete the weekend.

I need to give my smoking wallet a break. It's a good thing this week is full of reissues. And speaking of reissues, my only purchase will be this sweet remastering of John Coltrane's My Favorite Things: Live at Newport. You can't go wrong with live Coltrane, especially when he's blistering his way through those chord changes.

John Coltrane - My Favorite Things: Live in Newport (Impulse)/Jazz

Just in case you were wondering, TheWife™ did not like Sonic Youth, Marc Ribot, or the pictures of Bebel Gilberto.