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Gonzo Report: Troutface vs. the spontaneous
Grooving at Cordova Bar's monthly Bay Park Funktion
Jacob Fletcher brings the funk - and Barney Miller.
“Prince was just okay,” says a man I’ll call Troutface. We’re sitting at The Cordova Bar on the edge of Linda Vista and Bay Park, waiting for the house band to start the monthly jam session known as Bay Park Funktion. Like most self-appointed smartest guys in the room, Troutface has made his thoughts and superior musical taste and knowledge known via his less-than-subtle facial expressions, which give the impression of someone who has just been smacked in the face with a trout. Perhaps one that's been dead a couple of days. He scowls, he smirks, and he chuffs loud enough to be heard over the bar din while I’m conversing with Craig Griffin, who has a guitar seated next to his bar stool.
Griffin is hoping to jam with the band, and Troutface insinuates himself into our conversation about music and guitarists. I sarcastically tell Troutface I learned something from him regarding The Beatles' use of a Leslie speaker instead of asking him to cite his source. Truth be told, I’m more interested in the attention Griffin’s guitar is bringing him from a blonde who asks him if he’s playing tonight and slips him a phone number.
To my right, a woman named Sarah is ordering one of Cordova’s signature cocktails called “Have a Nice Trip.” I decide to check back on her periodically to see if she’s tripped yet, and to interview her and her friends about the local music scene. But first, some investigation into the bar's “award-winning Old Fashioned." Becka, the bartender, can’t recall who gave the award, so I do an official bestowing of the title, despite not having not sampled it. It’s not as impressive as the time she says she saw a man take off his shoes and do a backflip for no apparent reason, but it’s all I’ve got.
The house band is warming up, preparing for a set before the jam starts. I ask bassist and frontman Jacob Fletcher (The B Sections) if he knows the theme from Barney Miller. He needs a second, plus a bit of humming from his bandmates (include keyboardist Neal Isaac of Agents of Apollo) before launching into it. As fate would have it, he’s wearing a Prince T-shirt; I think of Troutface and smile. A man with a million-kilowatt smile and Zen energy starts chatting with Fletcher. He is Abe Majors, a drummer set to play a gig later that night with Ryan Gray at The Collective. Just now, he's stopped in to see his friends, nurse a drink, and write down charts for the gig.
When the band starts playing, the club is revealed to be a hive of musicians and music lovers, and their shared enthusiasm seems to enhance the band's precision. Patrons who had been were energetically grooving as spectators get a chance unleash their passion onstage when they set in on the jam session. Griffin plays a blistering solo, but alas, the blonde who slipped him her number is cavorting elsewhere. At break time, she approaches the mic uninvited, mistaking her liquid courage for solid talent.
It's raining, and only one side of the patio is both dry and warm, the latter thanks to a gas fireplace. I spot Sarah, who still hasn’t tripped, smoking with her friends Ashley and Laura. I ask the trio what made them brave the weather on a Thursday to come here. They tell me they would go anywhere for music, especially jam sessions where the spontaneity gives life to the performance. In the time it takes to smoke an American Spirit, they list several other venues and artists I need to check out.
I see Luke Glass of psychedelic prog funksters Exotic Fruit Tour wringing his shirt out, trying to get dry. He ran through the rain to get here. “I want to jam and try not to miss these Thursdays," he says. "It’s magic.” As he gets as close as he can to the fireplace without burning his bare torso, he adds, “I’ll dry off, but this only happens once a month.”
Here's something you might be interested in.
Gonzo Report: Troutface vs. the spontaneous
Grooving at Cordova Bar's monthly Bay Park Funktion
Gonzo Report: Troutface vs. the spontaneous
Grooving at Cordova Bar's monthly Bay Park Funktion
Jacob Fletcher brings the funk - and Barney Miller.
“Prince was just okay,” says a man I’ll call Troutface. We’re sitting at The Cordova Bar on the edge of Linda Vista and Bay Park, waiting for the house band to start the monthly jam session known as Bay Park Funktion. Like most self-appointed smartest guys in the room, Troutface has made his thoughts and superior musical taste and knowledge known via his less-than-subtle facial expressions, which give the impression of someone who has just been smacked in the face with a trout. Perhaps one that's been dead a couple of days. He scowls, he smirks, and he chuffs loud enough to be heard over the bar din while I’m conversing with Craig Griffin, who has a guitar seated next to his bar stool.
Griffin is hoping to jam with the band, and Troutface insinuates himself into our conversation about music and guitarists. I sarcastically tell Troutface I learned something from him regarding The Beatles' use of a Leslie speaker instead of asking him to cite his source. Truth be told, I’m more interested in the attention Griffin’s guitar is bringing him from a blonde who asks him if he’s playing tonight and slips him a phone number.
To my right, a woman named Sarah is ordering one of Cordova’s signature cocktails called “Have a Nice Trip.” I decide to check back on her periodically to see if she’s tripped yet, and to interview her and her friends about the local music scene. But first, some investigation into the bar's “award-winning Old Fashioned." Becka, the bartender, can’t recall who gave the award, so I do an official bestowing of the title, despite not having not sampled it. It’s not as impressive as the time she says she saw a man take off his shoes and do a backflip for no apparent reason, but it’s all I’ve got.
The house band is warming up, preparing for a set before the jam starts. I ask bassist and frontman Jacob Fletcher (The B Sections) if he knows the theme from Barney Miller. He needs a second, plus a bit of humming from his bandmates (include keyboardist Neal Isaac of Agents of Apollo) before launching into it. As fate would have it, he’s wearing a Prince T-shirt; I think of Troutface and smile. A man with a million-kilowatt smile and Zen energy starts chatting with Fletcher. He is Abe Majors, a drummer set to play a gig later that night with Ryan Gray at The Collective. Just now, he's stopped in to see his friends, nurse a drink, and write down charts for the gig.
When the band starts playing, the club is revealed to be a hive of musicians and music lovers, and their shared enthusiasm seems to enhance the band's precision. Patrons who had been were energetically grooving as spectators get a chance unleash their passion onstage when they set in on the jam session. Griffin plays a blistering solo, but alas, the blonde who slipped him her number is cavorting elsewhere. At break time, she approaches the mic uninvited, mistaking her liquid courage for solid talent.
It's raining, and only one side of the patio is both dry and warm, the latter thanks to a gas fireplace. I spot Sarah, who still hasn’t tripped, smoking with her friends Ashley and Laura. I ask the trio what made them brave the weather on a Thursday to come here. They tell me they would go anywhere for music, especially jam sessions where the spontaneity gives life to the performance. In the time it takes to smoke an American Spirit, they list several other venues and artists I need to check out.
I see Luke Glass of psychedelic prog funksters Exotic Fruit Tour wringing his shirt out, trying to get dry. He ran through the rain to get here. “I want to jam and try not to miss these Thursdays," he says. "It’s magic.” As he gets as close as he can to the fireplace without burning his bare torso, he adds, “I’ll dry off, but this only happens once a month.”
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