Freaky Saturday

Park decided to take a break from the concert scene this week -- sorry Johnny Winter at BB's! -- and work an event purported to be a haven for music/movie/sport memorabilia called the "Gotham Super Collectors Show." Instead it was kind of a haven for the strange and unusual. If you weren't talking to yourself or making jokes to others that they weren't getting, you were apparently doing it wrong.

The show was tucked away at the Holiday Inn on the mid- to upper-West Side. And since 'ark said it once hosted a contingent of Clapton fans in town for a gig, it appears the establishment is used to having weirdness around. I should have known it right off the bat when the organizer, a not-too-distant relative of Cousin Itt, showed me to my table. And when the neighboring dealer came over to look at the stuff as we were putting it up, but sans the usual pleasantries and/or courtesies -- aka a smile or introduction.

But that's mild, baybee, compared to what came later. One of the first happeners-by hadn't washed his hair for at least a month and looked offended that we had no comic books. An introverted Rain Man-esque type in a Giants coat looked very uncomfortable until a woman in a veryyyyy mini Santa Baby skirt showed up. He sat by her for hours. I'm trying to figure out who that was now, since she looks nothing like "Scream Queen" Debbie D nor the "First Lady of Wrestling" Missy Hyatt, both of whom were on the bill.

No wonder the show tanked. Not that it was the fault of former "F-Troop" actor Larry Storch (cough, cough, mothballs!) nor Brutus Beefcake (the 'roided wrestler), because both gamely sat at quiet tables in the room all day. There was a Gandolph, OK, he wasn't Gandolph but he was dressed to the nines in some kind of wizardry wardrobe -- minus the hip sneakers. Of course he was speaking in "fantasy" world language. Near the end, Gandolph started peeling pieces of his costume away. You'd look back and one thing would be different. Look again, and one more thing and so on until he was almost normal. And late in the day, an orange werewolf showed up and kept trying to massage me with his lobster-claw gloves on. 'Ark laughed pretty heartily at that ... but as you can see by the photo, not so much when it was his turn.

Our first customer of the day was a very chatty, very bag-laden lady who had unfortunate scars across her forehead. She thinks people should marry animals to lower the divorce rate. That's just one of the gems we gleaned in her couple trips to our table. But hey, she bought stuff!

We had a pretty good mix of stuff -- DVDs and CDs, hockey and baseball cards, movie photos and vintage concert shirts. We sold enough to recoup our table fee, but I think we could have done really better at a stronger show.

Back to the freaks though. One of the ones who spent extensive time at our table ... and I'll at least give him that since many glanced and decided against checking it out before their eyes even saw everything on it. Hey people, you spent $10 to get in. It's a small show, do yourself a favor and get your money's worth!! Anyway, before I get too off-track like 'ark does ;), this gentleman was looking through movie photos when he said, "These are all from the 20th century. My work is from the 21st century." And "I'm not going to be around much anymore due to my financial situation. So I might not be here next time, except if I come here anyway."

Why the small turnout? Well one of the first things we learned that day was that an enemy of the promoter had emailed people telling them the show was canceled. We were advised to look out for someone who looks like a Green Beret because he has been banned from shows and there's no telling what he might do if he got into ours.

But I'm hesitant to give the Green Beret too much credit. For music and sport collectors who may have previously been to the Gotham, they probably didn't see a need to return. So that left well, what we got. Basically none of the dealers seemed to make out like bandits. So we took it as we got our money back, plus there was an entertainment component we hadn't been expecting.

Oh wait, I almost forgot to talk about the Yankees fan. A young man with a suitable amount of Yankees apparel on happened by, so I started pointing out different Yankees things I had. He seemed to like different things, but at one point he stated, "I'm not giving these guys any more of my money." And then boom! He just ran off. I can appreciate him sticking to his guns like that.

We'll still keep our stuff together and wait for a music or movie show to pop up in the future, then just try to hold us back! 'Ark was glad for the opportunity to have a "starter" show for us, but then again he didn't know about my years of sports card dealer experience as a young 'un. I think I impressed him ... again.

Picture-perfect holiday

The big holiday for my family has become Thanksgiving. My sis and I take pains to make sure we're off the day -- which usually include working Christmas Day. It's become a tradition to have a big dinner at Lorrie's house, which includes lots of food and laughter. This year, the tradition was extended to a weeklong whirlwind trip with car and plane travel, a special and long-awaited reunion, football, food, hockey, ice skating, shopping and again lots of laughs. Lots to be thankful for, to be sure.

A thousand words couldn't take the place of these individual moments. But I usually save the bulk of the actual pictures for another tradition, the family calendar. Although I'm not there to see it, I love hearing about everyone perusing it and enjoying the serious photos as well as the funny ones. And it's something that keeps on giving for a whole year -- well at least for my mom and myself, since we're the ones who use them.

Anyway back to the trip. It started in New York. Right after a hard night's work, I hopped the subway to JFK to catch a plane to Richmond. The plan -- and it worked to perfection -- was to meet Clapton buddy Susan in Savannah on Friday night, see my long-lost Little Sister Jessica on Saturday, go to my first USF home game on Sunday and then make our way to the other side of the state so Mark could finally meet the rest of the family.

We motored on down, sampling pecan rolls along the way and making a pitstop at South of the Border. As anyone who ever took the long summer car trips between the North and Florida knows, the Border billboard signs start out dozens of miles before the stop and grow more voluminous as you get near. There were a few less this year, and even fewer people at the stop. The employees outnumbered the customers. Talk about out of season!

We had arranged to meet Susan at Sam Snead's restaurant in Savannah. The late legendary golfer put together a nice shrine with a sharp menu. Even on an upset stomach, I couldn't help trying to pack away the prime rib special. And yes, for those in the know, Susan did spill her water! It's so endearing ... and wet!

The next day, Park ventured onward to Florida, arranging to meet Jessica -- I was a Big Sister to her Little Sister many MANY moons ago while on the West Coast of Florida. In fact, the age she is now is the age I was when we first met. Yikes! When I saw her striding around the corner, I started hopping up and down. Lots of squealing, lots of hugging and borderline tears. Mark (and the valets) were eating it up. Speaking of eating, more good grub!

Jess looked stupendously fabulous and we just talked and laughed. Which of course led Mark to wonder how we could have been apart so long if we're so in sync. My answer was that I just expected to see her again someday, to have these kind of moments again. She needed here time and space to become her own person. Guess what her own person is? A journalism major at the University of South Florida! Great choice, I say! Except her minor is Theater and mine was Dance. Black sheep!!

The next day we went to the Big Top Flea Market. Every time we thought we were done, another row or extension we hadn't been down popped up. Found lots of cool things, including some rocking additions to the lighter collection (a submarine, a grenade, a laster, a frog and an Oreo). We went to one of my old haunts, Vinyl Fever (OK, it's in a new location) and then met Jess and b/f Darnell for yet even more good food at the Columbia Restaurant, which opened in Tampa in 1905.

Then on to Raymond James Stadium to see our USF Bulls. They had struggled in recent weeks, so it was great to see them get off to a fast start. Three quarters went by before anything else happened. Jess seemed to like my derisive chant to UConn "Compass! Compass!" since they ran side to side more than up and down the field.

Next day it was on to the homefront. Mark had met my sis, but not my mom nor my bro. We went to Mom's where both were waiting and it quickly dissolved into boys vs. girls. In other words, he fit right in. "Did you just call me 'ark?" he inquired of Mom at one point. Mom made one of my childhood favorites for dinner, veal parmigiana, and we scarfed that down. Inside with Mom, I missed most of the fun when Mark and Jeff went outside to try the cigar he had bought at the Columbia "just to try it."

The next day we went to a flea market in Boca Raton where the only thing we found was a compass lighter, blue to remind us of UConn. The most hilarious moment was when we were looking at one particular outfit with a longer shirt and a short-sleeve shirt under it. The woman kept changing the prices, and raising them, even though we were rapidly losing interest. "That's $32 ... no $42." I said "How about $52?" as we walked away. Not the right way to play it in this economy.

Wednesday was a day full of ice. In Florida, as 'ark likes to point out. We picked up my whirling dervish of a nephew, Shane, and took him ice skating. Even Mark was going to try it out. Shane and I zipped around the ice with his child bar, but they didn't have them for adults, so Mark mostly stood at the boards until a nice instructor showed him how to do a couple of basics. The boys wrapped up the morning by having a snowball fight with the snow that was piled outside the rink.

We met up with Sis and hubby Keith ... back to boys vs. girls ... and headed south NOT to Miami. Played games at Dave & Busters -- the funniest part was a trivia game that only gave prize tickets for the top three. When two more people joined us, they couldn't crack the top three. Completely shut out!

Speaking of that, the Devils had quite the shutout going on for most of their game against the Panthers later that night. But Florida scored twice in the final three minutes to tie up the game. Things got worst when Pinhead Salvador took a penalty for clearing a puck into the crowd, but that infraction was killed off and Johnny O. scored with less than a minute left to send us (and a sizable portion of the crowd in Sunrise) home happy.

Mark had to head back to Virginia on Thanksgiving Day (female co-workers wanted to shop Black Friday, of course!) but he left his cookies (literally!) behind. The Schectors and Benders had a great dinner with lots of laughs ... and extra salt. Mere hours later, me, Sis and Mom trudged off to the mall to start shopping. Yay, I got another rockin' Hendrix hoodie cheaply ... boo, the Lucky Brand watch I wanted wasn't on sale nor could we get either of the two salesladies we asked to part with the little sunburst guitar that was part of the display.

And then hours after that, I was on a plane and darn if I didn't just about fly over a week's worth of memories.

With or without you

Editor's Note: I had this headline picked out between the two days that appear in this blog because I went to one with 'ark and one solo. But after hearing the sad news that Jimi Hendrix's longtime drummer Mitch Mitchell passed, well it has taken on a different connotation. I just saw Mitchell out and about with the Experience Hendrix crew just a few weeks ago, and he looked as vibrant and enthused as the first go-around a year earlier. He got to do what he loved to the very end, and we couldn't have asked for much more than that for him. So I won't, and I'll just dedicate this week's entry to Mitch.

There were a lot of mid-week events going on this week, New York, baybee! Monday night, I found out that my fave celebrity chef, Jamie Oliver (no, he's not my fave because his name is Jamie! :P) was going to be doing a signing at Borders in early afternoon next day.

Takes a lot to get me up and about at that time of day, so Mr. Oliver apparently is a measuring stick in that regard. I've enjoyed his appearances on Letterman (which often end in the both of them wolfing down something you or I might find inedible -- such as olive oil from the bottle) and even tried one or two of his recipes over the years. I guess I would be the target audience for him on Dave, someone not into cooking who wanted to try it out.

So I dutifully bought my copy of his new book "Jamie at Home" (made with paper from 'sustainable managed forests') and got on the line. Not too long, the holiday might have kept people out of the city and he also was doing a couple of other appearances in times and places I couldn't get to the next two days.

He was running late and one of the girls I was chatting with on the line put it perfectly -- as soon as he gets here, we're going to forget all about the fact he made us wait. And it was totally true. He's got a very effusive personality and greeted us with "Hi guys!" when he finally made his entrance.

I had wanted to tell him something about my "target audience" theory or maybe that I had made my own variation of the sausage meatballs he made on Dave last year, but he distracted me by asking if I was a New Yorker. Now what do I always answer in that circumstance? Well usually, I say yes. But for some reason, I went "I'm a New Jerseyan." Had to think about the "Jerseyan" part. Same thing, he said. I guess it's about the same as someone living in a London suburb being deemed as someone from London. But he can say basically anything he wants with that personable English accent, and it certainly worked here.

One of the people on line took a picture for me, I had promised to do the same for him when we were buying our books since Majeed had taken my photo with Chris Trucks last weekend. Just paying it forward.

Fast forwarding... now 'ark is in tow for the back end of our "Ultimate Rock 'N' Roll Couple" bookend. We saw Derek Trucks and the Gang twice last weekend, now wife Susan Tedeschi and the Funky Bunch appear at Irving Plaza, now tabbed The Fillmore (why bother, since it's bogus and should just be the legendary Irving Plaza instead) I have to admit though, seeing the cool-ass posters from every concert medium is pretty impressive.

Speaking of that, opener James Hunter and his five-piece band did a great job of sending the wayback machine back to the '50s with guitar-driven style. I half-expected to turn back to the rest of the crowd like a scene out of Peggy Sue Got Married or meet my bobbysoxed mom as Michael J. Fox's character did in Back to the Future.

Even better though was Ms. Tedeschi, who manages to have one of the best female voices going and hittin' every note (Allman Brothers Band inside joke!) on the guitar. She has this little speaking voice and this great big beautiful singing style. Her chops on the guitar could slay many as well.

It's not a confrontational style, but it's certainly not a Grateful Dead vibe. It's kind of a soothing rock-out effect. "Back to the River" and "Just Won't Burn" were among the tracks that proved powerful in their ability to draw a mental picture, punctuated by the bluesy vocals and striking notes. The perfect way to wrap up a long summer/fall Park leg of concerts.

So next up, and this is expected to be a doozie. The big trip home for Thanksgiving, although 'ark's gotta depart on Turkey Day :( because of that neither rain, nor sleet, nor overstuffed bellies' mailman mantra. Among the stops Park will be making on a shorter tour almost shorter than Eric Clapton or Lindsey Buckingham's brief forages this year will be -- dinner with Sus, my first college football home game with my Big Bros/Big Sis little sister Jessica (jeez, I don't want to think about how old she is now!~~), Devils hockey with my sis (OK, the guys are coming too), a visit with my favorite -- and only -- nephew and 'ark meets the other two most important people to me, Mom and Jefe. 'ark will get his five minutes to schedule a visit with a friend as well. Back after the trip! Happy T-giving, everyone. :)

Detailing of the Trucks

I'll remember lots of little moments from the past weekend. Making a new friend from Palestine. Meeting Derek Trucks' dad, Chris. Being told by him that "he makes good babies." Paying less for a DTB show poster, but getting an autographed version. The actual blurring of Derek's hand during a song of the scorching first half of the Highline Ballroom show. Having Chris hold up the Derek head on a stick. Then being told that Derek has displayed the head on the stick in various places -- including the bathroom! An even better show at the Blender. Watching his brother, Duane, in the wings with a camera phone snapping pictures. Getting a double-take from opening act lead guitarist Eric Krasno after wailing on the harmonica. Getting a double-take smile from Derek after waving the infamous head on a stick.

As 'ark was making his way up to the Turnpike, I was at the Highline Ballroom -- around the corner from work, which is always slightly unsettling for some reason until I get in there and totally forget about an outside world. Lots of room up front for the opener Mocean Worker, a jammy jazzy band who introduced all the members as so-and-so Obama. That got the crowd going.

During this time, I met a nice guy (and new Facebook friend) from Palestine named Majeed. He had never seen Derek live before, and took time from his busy thesis schedule to finally catch the band.


I spotted someone with a concert poster and remembering how 'ark didn't manage to get one in New Hampshire after waiting too long as well as the Squeeze/Black Coffee in Bed shirt debacle, I went over to get one from the merch table. And there was Chris Trucks sitting there, selling wares for his son. I brought up writing the article back when Derek's guitar was bigger than he was and Chris chortled "was I drunk at the time?" Due to my rather expensive purchase of one mere alcoholic beverage, I only had a $20 on my person and the posters were $25. Chris sold me one for $20 -- and not just a regular one at that, it had been signed by Derek and two other members of the band. Much joy in the land. We took a picture and those with long Pai history should recognize for its Luongo-like moment.

And then there was much embarrassment in the land... I brought Majeed over to meet him and introduced him as Butch, who of course is Derek's uncle. Chris took it in stride, "I mess up names all the time." He apparently didn't take it too badly, for he was flirty until 'ark got there. Chris: "Is he going to kick my ass? Oh well, it's been kicked before ... and it'll be kicked again."

In the meantime, hundreds of people kept swarming into the general admission room, I wasn't sure Park would be able to stick a big toe in there. But once he arrived we not only got in, but squoze our way all the way up to the front right side of the stage.

The band SCORCHED the first half of the set, beginning with the Bob Dylan cover so applicable in this day and age, "Down in the Flood" aka "Crash on the Levee." 'ark pointed out to me when Derek was playing a solo in which his hand literally was blurred with movement -- I had noticed the very same. The familiarity of a Derek and the Dominos favorite "Anyday," which reminded me of Clapton watching him play the same from offstage at Crossroads, was a treat.

Frankly there was no way to keep up this kind of pace, and -- I want to make sure this is clearly noted, 'cause it is not intended to show displeasure, just a difference of momentum -- the set kind of chilled out about halfway through. The play was still stellar, the vibe was just not as intense. DTB's cover of John Coltrane's version of "My Favorite Things" exemplified that and the keel was evened out.

Now DTB likes to vary their setlist each night, but "My Favorite Things" did make a reappearance at the next show. I don't know if it was because they didn't quite get what they wanted out of the previous night, but it really took flight at the Blender Theater -- which managed to be even smaller and tightly packedier than the Highline.

I digress though, because there was definitely entertainment prior to that. Decided to copy and bring a copy of my early Derek article to Chris, particularly after he did me the solid with the signed poster. Also wanted to get a picture of him holding the infamous "Derek head on a stick" -- I had the idea of him holding it up at the height at which Derek comes up to his dad. After seeing the article, Chris was reminded of the couple of years of heartache his son suffered when Derek was told he could no longer play bars such as Gatorz (the place I first saw him) because of his age. But much more amusingly, the "head on a stick" has been fodder for laughter -- whether on the tour bus, hanging next to Jesus in the home or even right by the toilet in the bathroom.

This night's opener was the band Chapter 2, a great amalgamation of rock and soul. They got us primed and ready for the big event. Guitarist Eric Krasno looked surprised and bemused when heard the legendary Park $3 harmonica tooted during a quiet moment, thought I might have to go up and jam for a second there.

There was a great sit-down set ("Soul of a Man," "Chicken Robber" and "Meet Me at the Bottom") during this show that wasn't done the previous night. And Derek took time out from his busy guitar genius to doubletake for our camera. (It's at about 1:55 in "Meet Me" for those who can't wait that long -- basically everyone that reads this blog, I'm sure.) The head on a stick might have caught his attention, I'm not sure...


So back to "My Favorite Things," I'm not sure how to do either version justice because it didn't suck Thursday and it just went off to another stratosphere Friday. During this time caught a glimpse of another Facebook friend, Derek's brother Duane, standing off stage and watching the magic. At one point, he funnily tried to block out the noise and several times he whipped out the camera phone and recorded the moment just like the fans at the front of the stage.

A novel concept: members of Chapter 2 (get it? novel... chapter...) came back for the final two songs of the set and it was ignition and take off for "Get Out of My Life, Woman" and "Joyful Noise." It was great fun watching the keyboardists and the drummers switching places and not missing a beat. I was hoping Duane would get to join the party on drums, but I think the stage was in danger of being shut down by the fire department -- either for reaching capacity and/or dangerously raising room temperature levels. After a quick break, there was a third extended jam on "Freddie's Dead," which ordinarily I would have loved but well ... it felt OVERextended to me. But hey, if that's the only thing I have to complain about, well, there's absolutely nothing to complain about.

By the way, I was just FULL of Trucks faux pas this weekend, 'cause Duane messaged me this: "Sorry man, but i wish i was there in new york to see those guys play but that was somebody else. I got a good laugh though i actually thought it was me there for a second."

Blogging under the influence

You know how people turn off the light and go to sleep when it's dark out? Well, I've only been able to do that ONCE in the past THREE days. Feeling kinda out of sorts, so what better time could there be to blog? I was hoping it would up the blog interest level for a more sedate weekend, but so far I'm maintaining an even keel (sorry!).

So this weekend, Park wound up concertless, but that didn't mean there wasn't mayhem to follow. We planned to be part of a Halloween party taking place Nov. 1 in Virginia.

We got all tricked out... my original plan was for a lighter costume, but the colder temperatures from the past week made me do an audible to more weather-specific apparel. I geared up to be Patrik Elias, down to the red/white mouthguard and the black eye so familiar from his beach wedding photo. Had the knee pads, the shin guards, the jox sox, game-worn Mogilny sox to go over the pads, my Easton undershirt, Elias overshirt and a Devils-helmet shaped tuque my co-worker gave me last holiday. Even chopped one red and one white mouthguard in half to create the Elias' custom one.

Meanwhile, 'Ark went to a store, picked up at inmate costume and put it on. What a strain! Don't feel bad for him though, he won second prize in the adult costume competition!! (Personally I think it's because he runs the jail mail route through town -- delivering letters to and from those in local prisons. Well that AND there's no hockey team around!!)

There was a funny moment before getting to the party, when we went off to find 'ark's friend at a Civil War re-enactment. From the tents, we could hear young "soldiers" calling in our direction "Halloween was YESTERDAY!" Oh yeah?? Well, the Civil War was centuries ago!

Not wanting to wear out our welcome/nor start Civil War Part Deux we went off to the party. The adult/kid musical chair game definitely had its moments. I was able to make the group laugh by forcibly ejecting one man from his chair by spilling him out of it. The look on his face when he fell to the ground was priceless, and he slunk away. The rest of the night was fraught with warnings such as "Watch out for the hockey mom!" Guess I'm the most famous Democratic hockey mom now. ;)

Back to the big musical chairs contest, because I know you're falling out of your own proverbial one -- It wound up down to me and another kid... and with the competitive juices flowing... I of course took a dive by spinning dizzily out of control and falling to the ground. But seriously, how long could I walk around in circles?

The other moment that seemed to gain appreciation was during the hay ride. With the air dark and disorienting and a tractor seemingly pulling you in any direction, the remaining adults jump out and try to scare the kids on the ride. Which gave me the brilliant idea of sneaking up behind the scarers and scaring them. That was a lot of fun too.

There was also some fine eats, from stew and chili to Tootsie Rolls and toasted marshmallows. A lot of fun was had by all -- except maybe for the crying Spider-man, who wept when he was overly scared on the hay ride and then bawled again when he lost at musical chairs. I haven't seen so much unnecessary crying since Madden's kid at the 2003 Stanley Cup celebration.

Next week's gonna be a BIG music week. The early part of the schedule has us at two Derek Trucks Band shows in the big city and then in the middle of the week Derek's wife, Susan, is in town too. Not exactly the coveted Soul Stew Revival from earlier this year, but we'll take what we can get!! Hopefully I can even out the sleep ratio before that.

The fortitude (and luck) of the Parkish

Park is nothing if not open to give and take. Mark's become a huge Lindsey Buckingham fan (Buckface? Buckhead?) over the past month or so, and this weekend it was time for me to see one of his idols -- Joe Bonamassa.

It was a bit of a game of chance, as Joe B's NYC show at BB King's was sold out, but it took us about 10 minutes in front of the venue to score single tickets from two different individuals. We set up shop at the ledge about a booth to the right of where the quartet took in Chuck Berry, so that led to some fond memories.

Joe B is a guitarist/sponge. You can tell that everything he's heard has been ingested and is literally waiting there for future use. Hearing that he has previously discreetly played a riff from "Edge of Darkness," a BBC series Eric Clapton provided music for, only heightens the impression. And leaves you wondering what riffs like that you're missing out on just because you don't know someone else's catalog to their deepest depths.

He tore the place down with slow blues ... with fast blues, just every kind of blues blues. A great time and obviously someone it would be easy to see over and over and over again.

Going to JB/BB's on Friday meant missing out on a couple of things I probably would have otherwise been doing that day -- 1. a Devils game (Didn't miss anything there. They played like crap and got shellacked) and 2. opening night of the WFMU Record Fair (a convention I had been waiting to go to since about February).


We did the latter on Saturday. And wow, it's pretty daunting to walk into that room. Even charting a course and following it, there's no way you can see everything. The overwhelming feeling dissipated when 'Ark made his trademark vinyl jokes. (Insert eye-rolling maneuver here).

But I fared pretty well, picking up some Hendrix and Fleetwood Mac bootlegs. The thing I was looking for the most -- Peter Green playing with Otis Spann in Chicago -- I wound up getting for free as part of a Hendrix deal. Best of all was a table that changed from 25 percent off to 40 percent off as we started scouring their collections (pictured here). Lots of cool additions to my collection were made there (including a Chuck Berry picture disc). And with a human shopping cart at my beck and call, we worked our way through the huge rooms in about four hours.

Oh, almost forgot! The buy of the day had to be a DVD of the Lindsey Buckingham Nokia show we were at not a week before. When we got home and watched it, we cracked up when we saw 1. us high-10ing at the left side of the stage and 2. the sound of the ol' three-dollar harmonica tooting away during a break in the encore. I swear we could tell when LB was looking over at us too, just from his eye angle.

Another successful weekend in the life of Park!

Personal upgrades

It was pretty hard to top the previous weekend in terms of -- well everything -- so we won't even try. But Lindsey Buckingham and company ventured to New York to wrap up their small tour at the Nokia Theatre.

While the show can't hope to rival Atlantic City for soul and spirit, it did sound tremendously amazing. The acoustics in the building are -- as 'ark likes to point out -- built for recording and so every note was clear as a bell and ringing just as sharply.

The setlist and even much of the chitchat was the same, but between the two shows I think 'ark's bubble of Fleetwood Mac as pure pop has been ... well, popped. And Lindsey Buckingham's finesse as a soul artist both with the guitar and vocally are a whole different story.

As he explains it, he works for the giant corporate machine known as Fleetwood Mac. But that enables him to do his side work and, as a result, both sides now feed off each other instead of taking him on a more destructive path. He definitely seems, not at all mellow, but just grounded.

The big Park game plan was to leave the mezzanine seats and dart for the stage once "Go Your Own Way" started and everyone started to go their own way and that's what we did, in time for me to pogo along with GYOW once again. And I thought I was tired. Apparently 'ark was having a visual conversation behind my back with a guy not irritated but amused by my antics.

I would swear both Lindsey and especially "Jessie's Girl" Brett made eye contact during a couple of the songs. (This isn't our photo though, it's courtesy of Pattie at The Ledge.)

But the piece de resistance -- the final song. Now we hoped for something special for the final show of the tour. That didn't mean different material, it just meant the most stirring version of "Time Precious Time" one could imagine. The pointed guitar movements and perfectly toned voice and the final word "Rememmmmmber" fading out ... well, let's just say, it won't be hard to not forget!

So 'ark had to reMiata and return home the next day. That meant me and good friend Liam were on our own for Experience Hendrix on Tuesday. Last year, we saw the show at the Beacon Theatre. This one was at the Hammerstein Ballroom. Kinda cramped if you are in a seat, but we just moved back to the final few rows of empty chairs and basically stood and jammed all night. Much better!

Among those on the bill: Eric Gales (was at first show), Doyle Bramhall II (sigh, yep, he did "Angel" again -- my first near tearjerker of the night), Eric Johnson (never saw him before, he really caught fire), Billy Cox (just smashing in red), Jonny Lang (didn't pull out all the stops but was solid), Kenny Wayne Shepherd (DID pull out all the stops again on Voodoo Chile and Voodoo Child Slight Return), Brad Whitford and son Graham (not bad, son), the effervescent Mitch Mitchell (frankly I'd pay just to watch him walk on and off stage), a couple of Los Lobos dudes (righteous! and nice take on "Little Wing"), Hubert Sumlin (dude was ON!) and Buddy Guy (not liquored up... thankfully since the crowd was about one-eighth of the energy of his show in the same venue just a couple months ago).

Got to meet and get CDs/picture/ticket signed by Eric Gales and Billy Cox after the show. Funny EG moment... a 20something fan went up to him right before me and said "you gave me a whole new perspective." Then when I went up I said "I already had perspective, but you were really great." So Eric tells me that I rock. And I must have had a brain freeze cause I went "I rock? Eric Gales [editor's note: he had just played the s out of his guitar] is telling me that I rock?" So that was pretty righteous.

Of course it would have been righteouser with 'ark in tow. But he'll be back this weekend. We have Joe Bonamassa at BB's (hopefully seeing journeycouple again!) and the WFMU Record Fair the next day.