Last night I had a horrible nightmare. In this particular dream, I was back in 1998 and in between sets at my weekly Saturday night gig at Ryles. I had just ordered another Long Island Iced Tea to help numb the pain of my musically tortured soul, and somehow, manage to get through another 45 minutes of Big Bad Voodoo Daddy and Brian Setzer Orchestra covers. My cheap, polyester suit itched uncontrollably and I was surrounded by guys with soul patches and fedoras. This was the height of what was one of the worst periods of modern music (aka “the swing revival”) and I was right in the middle of it. Deep in the shit.
Before I awoke from this heinous dream, I ended up sleep walking into my studio and laying down the following groove. A two measure, four on the floor, swing beat with plenty of floor tom and a strong snare back beat. Can you dig, Daddy-O? It was so strong, in fact, that my wife jumped out of bed and woke me up before recording more than just a few seconds. After waking up and realizing that it was all just a horrible nightmare, I kissed her on the cheek, hugged my cats, and peacefully went back to bed. Thankful that it was 2010. Thankful that I wasn’t in a swing band.
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