Trading Picks with Patrice
Heather and I are very big fans of Patrice Pike and the Black Box Rebellion. We go see them every time they come to Dallas. We’ve often driven to Austin to check them out, too. They are that good. It helps that our sister, Yvonne, is the world’s biggest fan, (she turned us on to them) and she lives in Austin, so we can stay with her when we make the trip down there. She’s also friends with Patrice, so it’s not rare that Patrice will come to her house to hang out for parties and we sit back in the backyard round a campfire trading guitars and songs.
At one of their shows here in Dallas at the Gypsy Tea Room, we showed up a little early to catch the openers. It was Jason and Zelina and Heather and me. Shelley King was playing that night, if I recall, and I was standing in the middle of the floor, by myself. Jason was against the wall on a barstool, and Z and Heather had gone out looking for a bite to eat.
Chicken had this to say about Nelly Furtado: “Her voice will be the death of me.” Well, I suppose her voice is a little edgy, but I’ve found that’s exactly what I like about it. It’s definitely unique. And only when she wants it to sound like that does it even get that way. When she’s singing some of her slower songs, her voice is soft and sexy. I’ve found it to be like the Dallas Cowboys, whereas you either love it or you hate it. But if you’re a music-minded person, you’ll dig the album in spite of her edgy vocal quality – or perhaps because of it. She’s got class.
It seems everyone is doing it these days. It’s the cool thing to do. Become a legend and rake in the money and the women and the fans and the love, then give it all to an addiction. It’s cool, it’s fun, it feels good. Hey, everyone else is doing it!
I was sitting at a bar with my cousin and a friend this weekend having some beers, catching up on stuff. Well, we’re kind of regulars there, so we get on pretty well with the bartender. Anyway, she comes up and says, “Remember little Tiffany? The singer?” I was like, “Yeah. Of course. I used to adore her.” She says, “Well check this out,” and flops the magazine down on the bar. Lo and behold, there in front of me are Tiffany’s voluptuous breasts. I was disgusted. I can’t stand looking at women’s breasts, you know? Especially when they are that large and round and soft, and when I used to be infatuated with said person.
