Monday, July 12, 2010

Not a Review Because I Can't Handle Those: Trombone Shorty and Orleans Avenue

See now, this is why I can't be a critic or a reviewer or anything. I go see a show, take two or three pictures and then have to put my camera back in my bag so that my hands are free to wave around in the air. Looking classy, obviously. And I think of a couple sentences that I try and jot down on my hand or on the back of a receipt I find crumpled at the bottom of my purse, but then I realize the band is covering James Brown and I need to focus. On the fact that they're playing James Brown, not on sentences describing them playing James Brown. I end up with a tiny handful of blurry pictures and three nonsensical phrases in a text message I sent to myself that I later try unsuccessfully to decipher. It doesn't work. And it's just not for me, man.

So instead, I watch. And dance and smile and laugh and all that. And that's why I don't have much in terms of a review of Trombone Shorty and Orleans Avenue, who performed here in Madison last night at La Fete de Marquette.

I mean, they were brilliant. I'll say that. From the horn section to the rhythm section to the unbelievable guitarist to Troy Andrews (Trombone Shorty) himself, the band blew my mind. Troy played trombone and trumpet, conducted the band, sang, and danced. Nobody told me he could sing! And for real, he could sing. His voice has the depth and passion of a man three times his age, but he brought out a sexiness that just works so perfectly from a 23 year old up on a stage in front of you. You know? Yeah, you know what I'm talking about.
Watch him make the music move:

Do you see? That was all I could get, because sometimes you have to know when to put down the camera and just watch. Or just dance. Or just smile so much that your face hurts and forget the details of the show. Let somebody else do it, and you go experience that show.

And of course, there's my unending love for and fascination with the musicians. Oh, these musicians! My mother may have told me, and my friends may have warned me, but I know and they know that nothing gets me quite like a beautiful boy playing guitar. I mean, please.

You know?

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