“I Was There” Files: Reverend Vince Anderson @ Black Betty


You may have noticed I’m even more derelict than ever with this blogging foolishness. I’ve been going through a redesign (aka I’ve had writer’s block…ok for real, I’m lazy ho but you knew that already). Moving right along.

So, last night I went to see a jam-band. Let’s read that again. Last night I, ConnyKate, queen of all that is phabulous and phool drug my ass out of my newly refurbished apartment (my apartment no longer looks like I cook crack in the corner and steal Now and Laters to survive) to watch a woman play the sax trying play like wasn’t wearing a tablecloth, their eerily Jim Jones-like leader Rev. Vince, their darkie-for-hire on the congas and assorted errant nerds break it down to “This Little Light Of Mine.” Ahem. They ask you to sing along and I’m sort of like, these are Negro spirituals. People sang them to overcome the hardships of chattel slavery not just to kick up their heels after a long day of “freelancing.” Plus I don’t like singing with white folk. They sing all crazy and keep looking at you expecting your nigra genes to kick in and bust out some gospel/tap dance/vaudville/pop-locking number.

 It was weird because it was like pentacostal church with a whole of hipsters cracking their hips left and right and that’s um…weird. Weird but for serious, kinda fun. There were all these old guard hipsters who moved to Williamsburg because they actually were poor not just slumming for the heck of it. And the vibe was like a revival fueled by Tofurkey and Pabst but at least it was a change from all these ankle-biting baby hipsters who run around all empty-headed, insecure and deaf from hours of tinny electro music. But I was on some porch monkey foolishness straight falling asleep while the ofays are rejoicing. Okay so maybe this isn’t all that interesting but I actually have some lame-o excuse for you kids as to why I’m all foolish.

 This blog has been chock full of action because I’ve been at home behaving myself. But after actually catching some winks instead of doing everything short of pouring antifreeze in my eyes to stay awake (and missing all this Afropunk shit like a rock ho!!!) I was itching for the nightlife.

But trust children, I’m back…


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