So bluegrass, reggae, jazz, hip hop, salsa and rock and roll walk into a bar. Stop me if you've heard this one before.
Tonight, Thursday Oct. 22, after trivia, is a reggaebilly band called The Way Low Down. Reggaebilly is a genre first explored to fine effect by bluegrass musician Peter Rowan. This band makes it sound even more natural. They also have a banjo player named Peter Cogan, which sounds strangely similar to Peter Rowan. $5.
Tomorrow night we start at 6:30pm with the jazz trombone of Darren Kramer, one of the finest around. He's playing with special guest LA guitarist Brian Monroney. LIve looping w/ electric trombone, electric guitar, virtual synths, vocoder and lemur! $5
Then at 9pm we'll have a halloween show by House of Waxx w/ Boombox Saints, Casuals, Dj Curly and Emcee Ocelot (from Steamboat), Casuals. House of Waxx have put on some great hip hop flavored shows at the D Note over the years and this will be no exception. $5
Saturday from noon to 4pm Pro Drum Studio Presents: The Cavalcade of Stars...Drum Solo Competition. Head to Head contests of drum solo technique featuring the top young drummers in the area, and the debut of the newest progressive rock band in Denver. "Marlo Narwhal," w/ special guests "Heart Beat." free
Then, starting at 7pm on Saturday we have 7even Days Till Sunrise, Ryan Macpherson and Illuminate. Indie rock bands eager to party at the D Note. $6
This Sunday night is our 6th annual Salsa Halloween bash. (6th annual!) There will be a costume contest for cash at 10pm! Check out the gorgeous hand drawn poster Matt Dougherty did for this one on our myspace. If you blow it up you can see that the fingers of the middle dancing skeleton echo the branches of the tree.
Next Tuesday we have Martin Gilmore trio playing at 7pm and a new improvisatory composition group called Manhorse (feat. Matt Dougherty and Geoff LaPlant) playing at 8:30pm, free.
Thanks for being you,
Extra Credit: We always read the poems in the New Yorker, even though we don't usually like them. Why is that? Because sometimes you find a good one, one that resonates, perhaps even enlightens. Maybe you feel the same way about the poems in this newsletter? Here's one from a recent New Yorker we liked and hope you do too.
How strange would it be if you met yourself on the street?
How strange if you liked yourself,
took yourself in your arms, married your own self,
propagated by techniques known only to you,
and then populated the world? Replicas of you are everywhere.
Some are Arabs. Some are Jews. Some live in yurts. It is
an abomination, but better that your
sweet and scrupulously neat self
emerges at many points on the earth to watch the horned moon rise
than all those dolts out there,
turning into pillars of salt wherever we look.
If we have to have people, let them be you,
spritzing your geraniums, driving yourself to the haberdashery,
killing your supper with a blowgun.
Yes, only in the forest do you feel at peace,
up in the branches and down in the terrific gorges,
but you've seen through everything else.
You've fled in terror across the frozen lake,
you've found yourslef in the sand, the palace,
the prison, the dockside stews;
and long ago, on this same planet, you came home
to an empty house, poured a Scotch-and-soda,
and sat in a recliner in the unlit rumpus room,
puzzled at what became of you.