Hail, hail CBGB

There’s a big SNAFU when OMFUG is all gone
By PHILLIPE & JORGE  |  October 18, 2006

Many moons ago, Phillipe lived one block away from the legendary CBGB nightclub on Bleeker Street in New York City’s Bowery.

On Sunday, after a lengthy dispute, CBGB closed its doors, and another Gotham icon has passed from the scene. P&J remember RISD-bred Talking Heads playing there in their youth, astonishing people with songs like “Psycho Killer” and a bizarre knock-off of “One, Two Three, Red Light.” (P. could never be seen as a shiftless hanger-on since he had washed dishes with drummer Chris Frantz at the quite fashionable David’s Pot Belly restaurant on Hope Street back in the early 1970s.)

We at Casa Diablo feel sadness, in part since Jorge’s band once opened for the Ramones at Brown University, as P., in full business suit and with briefcase for maximum style points, did the Locomotion in the background. (This despite how an in-between act, Boston’s Human Sexual Response, performed a song, entitled “Butt Fuck,” which was certainly enlightening.)

At any rate, cheers to all those young punks who threw up on the Bowery after a Patti Smith show at CBGB, and may Jim Carroll be with you.

New Orleans’ pride
The Zekes, two of P&J’s beloved best friends in N’Awlins, have season tickets for the New Orleans Saints.

Their first home game back in the Superdome (site of the Patriots’ first Super Bowl win) was a nationally televised monster, and we hear the crowd stood for the entire thing, as the formerly deprecated ’Aints beat the Atlanta Falcons, 23-13.

The Saints knocked off Phillipe’s Philadelphia Eagles, 27-24, this past weekend, and Ms. Zeke says the crowd was so loud that she had to stuff tissue paper in her ears, as New Orleans ran its record to 5-1.

So as a tribute to the Saints, and in homage to the greatest city in America (courtesy Louis Armstrong), with a salute to sixty-five year old Aaron Neville and his new CD, Bring It On Home: The Soul Classics, here are lyrics describing one of our favorite cities. (No wonder that a “Bring back N.O.” sticker is proudly displayed at Flo’s upstairs bar in Middletown. Be there or be square.)

Do you know what it means to miss New Orleans?
The longer, I stay away
And miss it each night and day
And I’d like to see that lazy Mississippi hurryin’ into spring
I know I’m not wrong this feeling’s getting’ stronger
Miss them moss covered vines the tall sugar pines
Where mockin’ birds used to sing
The moonlight on the bayou a Creole tune that fills the air
I dream about magnolias in bloom and I’m wishin’ I was there
Do you know what it means to miss New Orleans?
More than I miss New Orleans
When that’s where you left your heart

The moonlight on the bayou a Creole tune that fills the air
And there’s one thing more I miss the one I care for
I dream about magnolias in bloom and I’m wishin’ I was there
Do you know what it means to miss New Orleans?
And there’s one thing more I miss the one I care for
More more than I miss New Orleans
When that’s where you left your heart

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