Do we really need shoes filled?

One of the tracks on Buddy Guy's most recent album (I won't say the name because the title track is the least-best song on the record, especially when sung monotone by one's boyfriend) is a Billy Joel "We Didn't Start the Fire"-esque rundown of the names who lived, breathed and sang the blues called "Who's Gonna Fill Those Shoes?"

It runs the gamut from Muddy Waters to Stevie Ray Vaughan and back again. And Sunday night at the legendary Beacon Theater in New York City, with Buddy Guy and B.B. teaming up for a mini-tour, it was proved that said loafers can NOT be filled. I proclaim that despite the presence of 9-year-old wunderkind Quinn Sullivan, who appears on the album track too.

Filling the shoes ain't as easy as picking up a guitar and hitting notes that adults three or four times your age would give their eye teeth to play. Are you gonna step into the crowd and wind your way around until you find the one person you want to knock out with your solo and then keep playing in the person's face until you get that reaction you want, kid? I saw Buddy do that to my brother about 15 years ago in Tampa ... and I didn't see it happen but I know it did out of my view on the lower level of the Beacon with some other convert at this show.

Are you gonna come out on the stage and tell us a story you have told a hundred times before and make everyone laugh like it's brand new? 'Cause B.B. can tell about women calling him "Bay" and telling him he's so cute, leading him to wonder why they didn't decades ago. After hearing a vigorous hoot from the audience, can you tell a tale about needing to run for your life when you used to hear that kind of noise as a youngster in the South? I'm guessing no.

And for all the kid's great notes, he can not match whatever magic it is that is B.B. ability to put finger to string and play one note that'll knock you into the middle of next week. The 83-year-old can also sear some soul in song, which is what he does more of during the course of the set.

But I focus on the oldest-looking 9-year-old I ever saw because so much of the show did. To be fair, Quinn self-assuredly produced some striking blues notes of the shuffle and slow blues variety and boasted an impressive one-handed playing maneuver. (OK, it was impressive the first three times and less so the last 12).

Since Buddy's set was first, he wasn't any sheets to the wind when he hit the stage and it made for a crisp set. He looked a little clinical with his medical scrubs-reminiscent attire and a closely cropped head, instead of the wild mane and polka-dotted apparel we've often seen him in.

The legendary Beacon's ability to sustain a note seemed to tickle Buddy, and he played -- and sang -- many of his notes in the softest way possible, keeping everyone straining on the edge of their respective seats to hear them. But he still made room for some lowdown dirty blues, namely "Hoochie Coochie Man" -- complete with "I didn't write it" asides amidst some of the more controversial lyrics of the song.

As Liam, 'ark and I have all seen B.B. a few times in recent years, it gave us the impetus for an off-the-cuff drinking game. Drink if B.B. says he's 83. Drink if he calls himself "Bay." Drink if he puts his head in his hand embarrassedly. Will definitely have to expand on that for the next show. Maybe we and others can count up the points and see how each show measures up.

The other thing distracting us at the show was akin to the "Seinfeld" episode in which Jerry puts a Pez dispenser on Elaine's leg at a concert recital and she cracks up. Earlier in the week I saw a Letterman show in which wacky intern Lyle -- who surprisingly showed up as patient of the week on House last week too and acquitted himself (literally) very well -- flashed Dave the peace sign upon the departure. He accented that by bending the two peace fingers and uttering a raspberry. It sounds like nothing, but I was cracking up like Elaine, esp. with the trekkie, Fonzie and other variations we concocted.

To our surprise, "Bay" did much the same set as usual, save for a new addition -- a well-received joke about not being like Michael Phelps because he doesn't smoke -- and ... for the first time on the mini-tour, the mutual admiration society of B.B. and Buddy playing together. Buddy quickly got underfoot, undercutting B.B.'s commentary with sly guitar lines and smiles. Quinn Sullivan reappeared when Buddy did and the looks passing between the two veterans' faces were almost as priceless as the kid's licks themselves.

There were more guests on hand at the Beacon as well. Ron Wood was introduced, although it might have been past the Rolling Stone's bedtime at the point that happened since he was no long around to accept the crowd's adulation, but the Sopranos' Federico Castelluccio (Furio) was and he appropriately got something of a furious reaction from the partisan Sopranos' crowd.

But again, none of these great extras could match B.B.'s notes on "Key to the Highway" or "The Thrill Is Gone." The thrill is anything BUT gone! And as long as it is -- make that the plural "they are" -- around, you can bet I'll be doing my best to see them.

Love, New Jersey style

We got some heavy-duty music names coming up in the next few weeks -- B.B. King, Buddy Guy, Van Morrison and Fleetwood Mac, to name but a few. But this weekend was about death-defying hockey, Valentine's Day and someone's birthday.

Because 'ark had to work his route before coming up, we got a solid half-hour in on Valentine's Day. Not that he didn't make the most of it, with four different chocolates and two other candy treats bound to make my jeans expand another size and the gelatinous XOs and hearts that wound up attached to the bathroom mirror.

That left about 10 minutes before the birthday presents started to roll out. A great-smelling cinnamon and pecan candle. Mmmmmm. And the piece de resistance, the digital photo frame that I expected for the holidays, didn't get and promptly forgot about ... well, that turned out to be my birthday present. 'Ark says since I change my posters around in the living room so much, this would be a much more efficient way of mood changing. Of course, now I'll have to load and reload THAT according to my mood.

Last year on my birthday, I went to the Devils game against the Thrashers. We lost in the shootout, but my fave players Patrik Elias and Jamie Langenbrunner did score and I remember trying to take something out of that. Left me ill-prepared for this year's contest that's for sure.

First we had to get in. Now we weren't sure where we'd end up this weekend due to other considerations, so we didn't have tickets for the game. It was a Sunday matinee AND free hats were being given away. That made for a hot ticket. But we expected the Park luck to emerge, so we went off to the very crowded, but very tasty Tops Diner (yes, I had a piece of the railing and it was just delicious.)

When we got to the arena, the same lady who gave me an adult-sized bangeroo (that's headache in Excedrin speak) a couple weeks ago told us her in high piercing voice that the only availables were $115 each. We thought we could do better, so we strolled outside and got $250 club seats for less than what the Rock's availables were. Of course we were stuffed, so the usual appeal of John's Pizza and sushi were lost.


We wound up 21 rows in back of the bench. If you look at the photo atop the blog, you can see Brian ("Drew" to me and sis) Rolston's jersey and Mike Rupp's fat head near the ice. And remember, objects are a lot closer than they may appear.

So it's about 30 seconds into the game and ... scoooooore! Brian Gionta converts on Elias' nifty little pass. Gionta scoring first at a game attended by a Schector, what a surprise. (That's obviously the end of that happening since I just voiced it in a public forum.)

On Friday, Liam was at the "pitchers' duel" between the two best teams in the Eastern Conference. His Devils beat his Bruins, 1-0. It wasn't that kind of game Sunday. So the Devils have scored ... the Sharks score back ... the Devils score again ... the Sharks score back ... the Devils score again ... the Sharks score back ... the refs start screwing us ... the Sharks take the lead. It's now the third period and fear for birthday sanity is starting to creep in.


Well, Elias of course had something to say about that. It took a 5-on-3, but we got our game-tying goal. Then as last year, Langenbrunner also deposited one in the net. ... And then the refs twirled their moustaches and the Sharks got back even.

Now the minutes are getting fewer and pretty much everyone crowd needs those heart paddles instead of the cheapo hats that we got, but we're expecting the best from Team Heart.

And we get it, cause we get a power play and David Clarkson is able to get a tip on Drew's massive shot and Nabokov is powerless to stop it (Cue The Police! "Just like the ... old man ... in that book by Nabokov"). And the arena is up for grabs!! Now it's just minutes left and ... the refs give the Sharks ANOTHER power play. Not only that, at some point during that, San Jose will pull their goalie and have their six on our four.

But the Devils battle, get some long clears and the house is going nuts. Behind me I hear "This is like playoff hockey!" Here's hoping it will be, 'cause the Devils hold on and win the damn thing!

'Ark's not used to it ... he needs to be scraped off the floor. And I've got to admit even I haven't seen a game like that since double-OT in the playoffs a couple years ago. We walk off in the literal sunset to head home to the juicy steaks that couldn't be finished during lunch. And Coke! (I've been resigned to Pepsi at both the arena and diner.) I might have to add "Happy" back to "Birthday" -- of course Ritu, Gina and Mark might be the only ones who get that.

The Annexation Proclamation

There are still three weeks until the Park concert season gets underway, so what are our protagonists supposed to do? (Beyond referring to themselves in the pretentious third person?) Movie (check), dinner (check please) and (thanks to a well-placed sign in the New York City subway system and a slight bet to go if something wanted could not be obtained at Virgin Records) the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame Annex.
I had heard about the Annex a few times, 'ark had brought it up once, but it just sort of jumped out of mind as quickly as it vaulted in. But despite some-freezing temperatures and a broken-down L train, Sunday seemed to be the day to go.

We knew we were in the right place pretty quickly after the free coat check. You step inside a room to await the next film presentation, and on the walls are large metal tiles with different rock & roll icons' autographs under the year of their induction. The cool part is when their song plays, their respective tile or -- in the case of group -- tiles illuminate. So you chase those around for a while and then the snippets of music get shorter and it builds to a crescendo (see above) as the lights speed up and the music swells and ... a bored guy opens the door to the other room.

We sat on the stools in the last row so we could see the screens all around the perimeter of the floor. I don't think one of the three blondes sitting dead center in the front row in front of us liked it too much when I said "down in front!" when she got up to adjust her ... whatever it was.

The presentation starts with crisp clear footage of the origins of music -- the names are posted via concert poster on the side for those who don't know their Muddy Waters from their Otis Redding. As the technology of the times increases, so does the use of the screens on the side. During the Beatles' Shea Stadium concert, it's really evident how little of the music could be heard through the high-pitched screaming, but the lads smile and sing on. Got as close as we'll ever get to a Hendrix concert, and bored guy used some kind of screen to make the five us in the audience part of the action. I was the first to start rockin' out, 'ark was the only one in the room who didn't. Well, besides bored guy. Apparently it was a female rock zone.

When that ended, the doors opened to the standing exhibits. Most of the choice memorabilia is on hand at the Rock & Roll Museum in Cleveland, but they did have some cool pieces heightened by the headphone musical accompaniment providing background to whatever exhibit you're standing in front of. We both loved Clapton's guitar, one just like the one used for the much-beloved Unplugged. 'Ark's other favorites included the first Fender and one Pete Townshend used while with the Who (pictured in the center here).

There was a sharp Hendrix exhibit that included everything from a necklace he wore during the famed Monterey Pop Festival to a TWA bag used in a famous poster (actually both Ritu and I own that one!) and after you've apparently had enough time looking at it, a high-def video from the show starts to play. Other major focal points were the piano John Lennon liked to use, and had on the last day of his life, and Bruce Springsteen's '57 Chevy (anyone want to sing "I've Got a Rock and Roll Heart?)

My personal favorite was this itty bitty dress of Janis Joplin's, which she wore on her famed Newsweek cover. Really gorgeous. I'd like to take the most expensive can opener/magnet EVER that I bought in the gift shop and go back to the cubicle and pry it on outta there! The girl had style ... and was teenie!

We also saw the familiar super-huge white suit David Byrne wore, a notebook of Billy Joel's songs from "The Stranger" opened to "Scenes from an Italian Restaurant," a harmonica setup of Bob Dylan's and the old signage from The Bottom Line (one of my favorite early '90s haunts) and CBGB's.

The current major exhibit is for The Clash, and while I don't go too deep into their catalog, it was cool to see the huge collection -- from the guitars and clothing to lyric sheets and backstage passes. Apparently that rotates every few months, so we'll have to keep our eyes out for future special exhibits.

Four thumbs-up from Parkage!

Visiting the Happiness Factory

'Ark came up with the perfect New Year's plan, one that probably started percolating in August when we daytripped to Derek Trucks and Susan Tedeschi's fabulous Soul Stew Revival shows in New Hampshire and Cape Cod. Every year, they've been doing a special year-end show on their turf and so when the Fabulous Fox Theatre announced this year's Dec. 31 bill, it wasn't a hard decision to make to go.

We talked great EC friend and general sweetheart Susan, the Georgia peach, into meeting up with us for some extra goodness. So we all separately made our way to one of my least favorite cities.

To give some fairly earned props, the people were tremendously nice and we got some great advice and even history lessons when we asked questions about the area. And it IS the Coca-Cola capitol! We went over to the Coca-Cola factory, which is where this particular blog's title comes from, and got a brief history of the beverage and all the pop culture and memorabilia associated with it. Very cool stuff.

The funniest thing about the museum/tour is that there is much about Coke in glass bottles ... but who ever sees those? It must be about one percent of their actual manufacturing, since most Coke is in cans or plastic bottles. Park searches far and wide for the glass variations. Luckily 'Ark has one particularly good source at home.

One of the most fun parts, of course, is the tasting room which sports fountain drinks from Coke-related enterprises around the world. There was a bitter lemon drink called Krest that Susan really liked. But it was more fun to watch people drink the ones that didn't taste so good. Case in point: Italy's Beverly. Everyone's face puckered up in chagrin when the taste buds got a hold of that so-called beverage. 'Ark had to bribe me into tasting it, 'cause frankly why else would you after watching every single people who tried it bellow "Yuck!"

(Side note: While Googling a photo of said concoction, found this description in someone else's blog -- "Worst. Drink. Ever. I hope whoever concocted Italy’s Beverly was immediately fired and punched in the face.")

They top off the tour by giving away glass bottles of Coke -- my fave thing in the whole world to imbibe -- so at least we could wash that Beverly away. And then you enter the gift shop -- the music swells up ... ahhhhh ahhhhhhhhh! We couldn't get the M5s (the special aluminum bottles with glow-in-the-dark designs used in European clubs), but they did have Coke in aluminum bottles. The taste out of that was amazing! Funnily enough, it very quickly loses its fizz so you have to down it quickly.

One line for Varsity, the famous long-standing hamburger/hot dog joint. Over-rated!!! If you can't be bothered to even melt cheese on a burger, how good can you be? (OK, two lines.)

Then off to the Fabulous Fox (and it IS Fabulous) for the show. The Arabian courtyard-like auditorium reminded me a lot of Mexico at Epcot center with its rich blue sky and twinkling stars. But all eyes turned the stage for the Soul Stew Revival and once again the best couple in rock 'n' roll delivered!

Derek and Susan each played songs from their respective new albums to open the show, and they sounded fresh and exciting. They whipped up great versions of the Soul Stew standards "Sugar" and "People," but then came the surprises. A cover of the Allman Brothers "Dreams" drove the crowd in a frenzy just in time for midnight, when a netful of balloons were released upon us.

And then more shockers -- a batch of Beatles covers, "I've Got a Feeling" (which I somehow presciently predicted ... by accident ... before the show) and "She Came in Through the Bathroom Window." Even got 'Ark to finally enjoy "Hey Jude" by acting out the lyrics as though he was Jude and I was the song's narrator. My fave part: Actualizing "The movement you need is on your shoulder" and then shrugging shoulders like "what does that mean?"

We've been saying that watching Derek with his band is great, and seeing Susan with her band is too, but together it's 1 + 1 = 3. It's more like 11.

Suffered some physical and transportational ailments after the show, but it won't dim the memories one bit! I should take this time to also commend World's Best Boyfriend, especially since all the women I've told the story to since have been cooing about it. My flight out of Atlanta got canceled. Now 'Ark was already at least 90 minutes away from the airport heading back to Virginia, but he basically stayed where he was until he was sure I was on a plane and not stuck in Atlanta on my own. And he didn't tell me he was doing that, it wasn't until I did some calculations about his ETA on arriving home (yuck, math!) that I figured it out. Ain't nothin' like the real thing, baybee...