Goin' to Kansas City

ccm
I realized about half way through our day in St Louis that I had put on my boxers backwards after the morning shower. This became complicated about three hours after a stop at starbucks. Awkward. There was no turning back and as Jack has relayed it was a filled-to-the-brim kind of day. And it ended not in the rock club called Blueberry Hill (still visited by none other than Chuck Berry once a month) watching THE AUTUMN DEFENSE (John Stirratt and Pat Sansone of the Wilco band) on Delmar but rather in a strange little coffee shop with our computers fired up to eleven. The blog has become an addiction. Before the coffee shop and a Persian dinner at Salim’s- not bad but I almost threw up at about 1 am, we first stumbled on a little record shop. Vintage Vinyl. I began to sweat, knowing full well I would never get out without a purchase. Up first was the “underground hip hop” section and the recommended Cds from 2006 I chose Mo’ Mega by Boston’s Mr. Lif, produced by one of my new fave artist/ producers El-P. Also picked up a Soul comp, this came NPR recommended, just one in a great series: Various Artists: Eccentric Soul Vol. 7: The Deep City Label ( thanks to Tom for the intro to this great bunch of soul). Jack picked up a few choice CDs including the Shins, who’s live shows we seem to be just missing on this trip. (I should add that the Shins are great- new album is fab, but basically they are a massive Zumpano rip-off, I mean its great and all their fame and fortune, but Carl Newman (AC Newman/New Pornographers/Zumpano is actually the king of the heap, just saying). The Cds got a good listen on the St Louis- Kansas City drive today. We did fine work of the drive, few wrong turns and arriving in the much bally-hooed Kansas City in time for a quick BBQ fest chez LC's, down on the Blue Parkway. Jack will give up the details but all I gotta say for now is I got meat spanked. Our fine hotel has an open bar 5-7, where we digested and drank harsh booze and watched Thai kick boxing on ESPN, then back to our room for more TV Thai kickboxing and our old friend Jim Beam.

The evening came to an end with BBC America, Jack snoring and asleep- fully clothed and me attempting to get it on tape, no luck. But there was some sleep conversation involving Jesse James- "...he was a tough little bugger...", (who was shot in St Joseph, just 55 miles north of Kansas City on April 4, 1882.)

Tomorrow is Oklahoma City (home to Wayne Coyne) and beyond, we finally meet up with Route 66.