I’ve spent the past hour chumming it up with Evan, chain smoking through getting-to-know-you conversation.ĩ:25 p.m.: Long Island native David Mead has taken the stage and performs a few songs. A quick survey indicates that no one else has heard of him either. The show should begin soon, and I’m wondering who’s this special guest, David Mead. So what the hell is going on in Boston?ĩ:05 p.m.: The crowd, a bizarre mixture of ages, races, and styles, slowly begins to fill the room. I’m from Virginia, where cigarettes and trailer homes are always cheap.
For such a lager and ale crazed city, a pint sure is expensive up here. I was stoked, ready for loud music, cold beers, head bobbing, and more cold beers.ħ:57 p.m.: I bought the first cold beer, and my wallet cried. My half-fro was a little misshapen, but Eagle-Eye’s was too, so it’s all good. We chatted a few minutes about his music and my writing, he autographed a poster and CD for me, and we even posed so Evan could take a picture. But when I approached to give him dap, he gripped me up like one of the boys. I don’t know why, but with such a history of artistic expression and wanderlust, I expected Eagle-Eye would be one of those snotty, self absorbed types. I already knew he was the son of jazz legend Don Cherry, and younger brother of Neneh Cherry of Buffalo Stance fame he was born and raised in Stockholm, where his hippie parents often took the whole family across Europe for summers at a time he studied acting at the “Fame” school - the New York School for Performing Arts - then spent a few years pursuing a successful acting career his creativity soon turned to music, so he relocated to Sweden and concentrated on his opus, which is already platinum-plus. I met Eagle-Eye along with other members of the press and some jerks who won a contest. Eagle-Eye and his crew spout bits and pieces of a few tunes, and I can already tell this will be a dope concert.ħ:55 p.m.: I’m completely geeked like a pathetic, star struck groupie. As we walk down the long corridor, we can hear a band warming up, cueing the engineer. There are supposed to be tickets waiting for us at the box office, but I simply pull out a press pass, and the thick-necked bouncers let us in without a hassle. Monday, March 8, 7:28pm: I arrive at the Paradise Rock Club with Evan, my photographer.
#SAVE TONIGHT EAGLE EYE CHERRY MOD#
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