I’ve spent every Sunday night for the past five weeks with my dear friends Ali and Max at the womb-like Amnesia bar for Sol Crawford’s Weimar/Klezmer Madness/Champaign Party called the Tingel-Tangel. Sometimes you just meet people who are complete social catalyses and Sol is one of those guys. This is the fellow who convinced droves of people to dress up like Robert Palmer and the girls from the “Simply Irresistible” video and invade all the hipster bars in town after Mr. Palmer’s death. I wasn’t there, but from all accounts, it was legendary. I told him I would make it my mission to follow him around with a video camera after that. I guess I just have to buy a video camera now.
These nights at the Tingel-Tangel have been no less legendary in my mind…where else can I hear excellent live ethno and vintage music, surrounded by well-dressed, like-minded people (saucy ladies mostly), run the complete spectrum of emotions from life-affirming celebration to deathly despair in conversation with Ali ("Von Himmelhoch jauchzend zum Tode betruebt"? Thanks Goethe), all while getting completely trashed on Champaign?! By the way, I now know that Ali and I can finish a complete bottle by ourselves in about one hour, which makes for the shittiest of Mondays at work, lemme tell ya.
Last Sunday was probably the most devastating yet. It was Gypsy Mustache Night, with a screening of “Latscho Drom”, Gaucho (a Django Rheinhardt influenced band), and Kugelplex (the rockingest of klezmer bands, besides the Klezmatics). The guy from Gaucho plays just like Django Rheinhardt, except he has all of his fingers. And Rob Reich and another friend Jason from Kugelplex absolutely whipped all the drunkards into a frailach induced frenzy. Beth Anne, I’m sorry I dropped you.