Squeeze

Over the weekend, Kristina and I wandered around Brooklyn, talked about old times and swapped stories about what had happened in the years between now and then. We also acted like proud aunts and uncles with nothing to show for ourselves, throwing down pictures and saying "awwww" a lot.

We ended up at Joe's, of course and caught the Motion Trio. I once took Hillary to an Old 97s show at Irving Plaza and she kept looking at me like she'd dropped into an alternative universe where there was a heretofore unknown-to-her band that was so loved that she was the only one there who didn't know the words to every song and when to clap the fills. I guess The Motion Trio is to Poland what the Old 97s are to Texas because the crowd cheered in glee every time this three accordion band . . . uhm . . .ripped into . . . classic Polish polkas and folk tunes and made them sound like the kind of thing you'd hear three guys dressed like kraut rockers do with squeezeboxes late at night in a dark alley.

Then last night, Johanna and I went to see Passing Strange upstairs at The Public. It's the first show developed through Joe's and it's getting all sorts of rave reviews and attention. The New York Times and The New Yorker have both laid down with Stew afterwards, lit up a cigarette and gushed about how great he was. Also, it looks like the show is moving on to other venues.

And it deserves it. I saw it a few weeks ago in a preview and then again last night and what was promising and fun a few weeks ago has become an outright great night of rock and roll and storytelling. And I pretty much hate rock musicals.

A note to old people with sensitive eyes: don't sit in the front row, house left because sometimes Stew wanders down in that direction and the wash of lights hits you and you just look silly shielding your eyes like a nuclear device has gone off in your face. And, jeez, what's with the scowl, old folk? It's only a star, man.