D Note 9 year anniversary weekend!

D portmanteau,

We have two outstanding evenings of music planned for you this weekend.

Friday night is extra special because it is our 9 year anniversary party. 9 years! Just shy of a decade. 9% of a century. Whodathunkit? We have asked some good friends to play for our party. We start off with Wonderlic at 6:30, who will be joined by The DeGraff Brothers Adam and Jeremy at 7:30pm playing a suite of songs about the D Note itself. Then at 8:30pm we have Matt Kowal (of The Reals) and friends. Some of you have been around long enough to remember The Reals, one of our all time favorite D Note bands with beautiful and memorable songs and a super fun rootsy Americana break-down for dancing. The evening ends with Stonebraker, another favorite local Americana band with great energy. $5. We really hope you can make it down to help us celebrate number 9, number 9, number 9.

Saturday night we have an embarrassment of riches, three stellar world-music bands, starting with the Latin Reggae of Mono Verde at 7pm (another of our all time favorite dance bands), followed by the African reggae of Irie Still at 9p and ending with Pink Hawks. Pink Hawks is a Fela Kuti inspired Afrobeat band. We heard them on KGNU and were WOWED. We feel super lucky to have them coming to the D Note on Saturday. $10

We can't tell you how excited we are for both of these shows. It is going to be one of those magical D Note weekends.

Next Tuesday, Valentine's Day, we have Bob's Big Band at 7pm. Free! Come early for a seat. This should be a very romantic evening and a great way to impress a date.

Okay you lovely people, see you here

D part

Extra Credit: A poem by Ross Gay...


Overheard

It's a beautiful day
the small man said from behind me
and I could tell he had a slight limp
from the rasp of his boot against the sidewalk
and I was slow to look at him
because I've learned to close my ears
against the voices of passersby, which is easier than closing
them to my own mind,
and although he said it I did not hear it
until he said it a second or third time
but he did, he said It's a beautiful day and something
in the way he pointed to the sun unfolding
between two oaks overhanging a basketball court
on 10th Street made me, too
catch hold of that light, opening my hands
to the dream of the soon blooming
and never did he say forget the crick in your neck
nor your bloody dreams; he did not say forget
the multiple shades of your mother's heartbreak,
nor the father in your city
kneeling over his bloody child,
nor the five species of bird this second become memory,
no, he said only, It's a beautiful day,
this tiny man
limping past me
with upturned palms
shaking his head
in disbelief.