See it now in The Happiest Geek on Earth.
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Doin’ the Hokey Pokey
Saturday was a gorgeous spring day with lots of sun and temperatures around twenty degrees (that’s 70 degrees to my American friends). I suggested to Paul that we rehearse the “Paul and Joey” numbers — songs that Paul’s written and for which I play backup — in the great outdoors. Paul seemed a bit hesitant at first, but then I pulled out my trump card: the Shaft argument.
“Shaft plays in the street,” I said, “and so should you.”
Having confronted Paul with irrefutable logic, we went to the corner of Queen and Soho (a mere two blocks from our house), right by the parking lot and a row of street vendors. Across the street to our left was the patio of the Black Bull Tavern and across the street facing us were The Gap and Peter Pan restaurant.
“Uh, why don’t you start?” asked Paul. “I don’t feel ready yet.”
“Not a problem,” I said, unstrapping the bellows and squeezing out a few practice chords.
I warmed up the accordion with a bluesy chord progression, and then went into Lump by the Presidents of the United States of America. At the end of the song, I noticed a father pointing my out to his little girl, a cute moppet who couldn’t have been much older than three. It looked as though he was explaining what the accordion was, as he was mimicking accordion-playing motions with his arms.
When I was a snotty seventeen-year-old, all spiky hair and attitude, I used to despise children. It was probably some kind of teenage guy thing; I notice the same feeling in my teenage neighbour Hector. That attitude changed in the summer of 1985, when I sold snow cones as a street vendor and children became my source of income. I learned to appreciate their wide-eyed innocence and their willingness to participate in any kind of goofy fun. Normally children aren’t part of my busking audience, especially since a lot of my busking is done after last call. In spite of that, I still have some kids’ songs in my repertoire, due in no small part to my nephew Aidan.
I walked up to the girl and her father and started:
You put your left foot in
You put your left foot out
You put your left foot in
Then you shake it all about
You do the Hokey Pokey
And you turn yourself around
That’s what it’s all about…
The little girl looked a little unsure at first, so I did the “right foot” verse complete with Hokey Pokey motions. That won her over, and she was singing, jumping and clapping by the time we got to the “whole self” verse, a difficult one to perform when you’re playing the accordion at the same time. Good thing I’ve been working out.
The little girl and Dad said goodbye and went on their way. As I turned around to check up on Paul, a guy came up to me and started talking.
“Hey, I liked the Hokey Pokey you did. Very lively.”
“Thanks,” I said, “I have a little nephew, so I’m getting more and more familiar with the kids’ songs.”
“I just wanted to say that it was nice of you to go out of your way to entertain that little girl.”
“Thanks again. And hey, who doesn’t like the Hokey Pokey?”
“I noticed that you haven’t got a hat or anything to put money in.”
“Oh…you know, I was just warming up, waiting for my friend to get ready. I forgot all about that. I guess I should put this hat down.”
I unstrapped the baseball cap I brought from around a belt loop and laid it on the ground.
“Here,” said the guy, “I’ll get you started.”
He placed something in it and walked off with a smile and a wave. “Something,” he said, “to show my appreciation for your good deed.”
“Thank you,” I said, waving goodbye.
I took a look in the cap. He’d left a twenty dollar bill.
“Paul!” I shouted. “Dinner’s on me!”
Recommended listening
If you’re of the opinion that the Hokey Pokey is not a rock classic, perhaps you need to hear Jim Breuer’s “What if AC/DC performed the Hokey Pokey?” (RealPlayer required).
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Kickass Karaoke — the photos
T. while onstage, remarked that Will (“Half Korean, half Scot, all pimp!”) was channelling the spirit of Carlton Banks!
Paul decided to give his “tough guy” look a try — not bad, huh?
Of course, nothing disarms a “tough guy” look faster than a “wet willie” delivered by Robertson Strickler.
Tara’s a new arrival to Accordion City, but she’s already made a splash. Catch her funk night at the Bovine every Thursday!
Jeff, along with me, Will and Paul are going to take the Accordion City busking scene by storm this spring and summer. Says Jeff “We’ll be like Moxy Fruvous…[thinking about it and grimacing]…except we won’t be Moxy Fruvous.”
In the parallel universe where my life is a TV show, Meryle’s credit reads “Hoochie mama number one”.
Sweeeeeeet Caroline / Good times never seem so good…
Mouth is alive / With juices like wine / and I’m hungry like the wolf…
Meryle dances while Erik, the man who knows more eighties music than even I do, croons.
Paul strikes his Gene Vincent pose.
It’s late in the evening, so your host Carson T. Foster has stripped to red leopard-print underwear. “Dude,” says Paul, “I am so gettin’ me underwear like that! He’s serious, folks.
Most people don’t know what to do during a 500-bar guitar solo in the middle of a karaoke number. Fortunately, Tara does.
“No, miss, I wouldn’t at all be offended if you touched my accordion.”
Even more Kickass Karaoke photos
On Carson’s own Kickass Karaoke page, you can see photos from the recent Sunday Night Edition (April 13th) and Carson’s own shots from the same night as above.
The next Kickass Karaoke…
…is sooner than you think. Remember, in addition to the traditional one on the middle Wednesday of every month, Carson’s also hosting one every other Sunday. The next one is this Sunday, April 27th at the Rivoli.
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More Bollywood
A mysterious benefactor known only to me as “J” made this Fanta Shokata Bollywood film for me.
(It’s from the comments for the previous entry, but I thought it was worthy of a posting.)
Thanks, J!
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Jedi Bollywood
I couldn’t resist making more Bollywood subtitles. This one — Yoda Shokata — takes its inspiration from Star Wars.
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Bob’s guide to the apostrophe
Bob the Angry Flower says:
There’s a lot of frustration in the newspaper cartoon industry about the public’s deep ignorance about this elementary punctuation mark. “Here, then, is a simple guide to some basic grammar, you illiterate morons.”
[Link found at How Now Brown Pau?]
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The evolution of infatuation
Me, twenty years ago:
D’you think she’d go out with me?
Me, fifteen years ago:
D’you think she’s smart?
Me, ten years ago:
D’you think she’s nice?
Me, five years ago:
D’you think she’s not psycho?
Me, now:
D’you think she’ll pass the background check?