Did I say Music?..................excuse me,
    "Excuse me." The bump of the #4 uptown subway train jostled me slightly into the woman sitting next to me. I dropped Uncle Carl, the self-titled disc by (Yes, I'm going to say it) Uncle Carl into the discman. The doors slid open, I was up the steps and walking down the mainstream when an odd character clenched his teeth as I passed and gave me a discreet "pssst". A nod of his head towards the alley revealed a stone staircase descending along the side of a brick and mortar building that towered into the night.

    The soft flickering neon sign in the fogged window of the basement coffeehouse/bar/cafe` immediately captured my attention as the smell of coffee, bourbon, and opiates lured me closer to the warm glow radiating forth and carried aloft by a sweet infectious jazz laced blues groove. "live music." I smiled.

    Pulling up a stool, I ordered a bourbon and settled in. Uncle Carl - Carl "Smokin' Again" Vreeland and his accompanying trio of "stereotypical, quirky, idiosyncratic, narcissistic, self-indulgent, caffeine, nicotine, alcohol addicted, love sick musicians" (as they put it) were laying down their jazzy, cool, smooth blues sound.

    Using a smoked ravaged mellow vocal that draws visions of beret wearing, cool cat, "shoobie de wah wah", goatee'd beat poets (Uncle)Carl sang tales of loneliness and heartbreak ("I'm Smokin' Again", "No One To Hold", "Holdin' My Baby's Hand") against the backing of the band who play with such dripping emotion and passion that it slices through your conscious and reaches the places inside of you that are only acknowledged with great reluctance, let alone revealed.

    I ordered another bourbon as the babe across the bar flashed a wicked smile that could span the country (let alone lure me to her room), she must've known which astral plane Uncle Carl was heading for next, 'cause the band launched into their coyly sly, slightly risqué, smartaleck musings on voyeurism ("Peek-A-Boo"), S&M ("Daffodil"), self gratification ("I'm Too Tired"), and even religion ("God Has Retired"). No subject too taboo, each song a joyful mix of slinky rhythms, tight leads, and soothing hooks, bridges, and runs. I was at ease. I smiled.

    Uncle Carl delivers a wonderful diversion of pure music. A parallel level of immense pleasure. How can any one not smile as they glide along on this smooth musical ride?

    Music. Did I say Music?..................excuse me,
    "Excuse me." The tilt of the Metro North train (which was carrying me the 2 plus hours back to the IndepenDisc office) had knocked the woman (holding a small dog no less) into the seat next to me with a thud. I smiled, then disappeared, listening to the music as I recounted to myself the levels of my Brooklyn trek...