Sexy Mexicans are good for morale. At least that’s what I felt last night. My friend Josh and I decided that we’ve been feeling so fucked up about this whole past week that we could use a little cheery distraction. After some hemming and hawing, we went ahead with out plan to go see El Vez, the Mexican Elvis, play with his band, the Memphis Mariachis, and singers, the Elvettes (Priscillita, Lisa Maria, y Qué Linda Thompson), in an intimate little show down at the Mercury Lounge. It was a good call, and did wonders for our addled minds. The basic idea is that he’s this guy from East L.A. who adds a whole South-of-the-border schtick to an amazing Elvis-themed cabaret act. This particular show is part of his “Boxing with God” tour, which actually gave him a good opportunity to plainly acknowledge how rough things have been this past week: he was able to express his sadness and sympathy and then seque right into the Gospel Elvis theme.
Not that it’s just Elvis songs with the lyrics changed for comic effect — oh no! El Rey and his entourage do a whole show pulling from all over the spectrum of rock and pop history: Elvis, George Michael, Iggy Pop, The Doors, the Edwin Hawkins Singers, Naughty by Nature, and Simon and Garfunkel all appear in the reportoire. It was not unlike a Latino Kiki and Herb show without the pathos.
Lord knows there’s been enough pathos this week. I’ve had to stop watching the news altogether as the media coverage turns completely to publicizing everyone’s grief. It’s upsetting enough to walk around New York right now, passing makeshift vigils and memorials at every turn, without having to watch people on TV being badgered by reporters to talk about their shock and sorrow. I just want news about what’s going on now, whether or not we’re going to give in to the public bloodlust and embark on a massive campaign of revenge. I’m trying to sort through my own reactions to this — reactions that have been much, much more powerful than I would have expected — and make sense of the changes in the people and the cityscape around me. Watching the TV coverage constantly churn up newer, sadder aspects of the whole thing is just not helping.
I think it’ll be good to go to San Francisco next week and get a little distance from New York. Seeing all these candles and flyers and tributes, talking to people about what they’ve been through, and endless political discussions are really wearing me down. I don’t expect the issue to go away, but I need to get further from the epicenter of so much sorrow and rage.
Is it in bad taste at this point to wish Bob the Builder were here to make it all better?
“Can he fix it? Yes he can!”
Oh hell yeah, El Vez was a good choice! Did he sing “I’m Brown and I’m Proud”?
So you think you’ll get away from it all here in the Bay Area? Not likely. I was stuck in Manhattan last week – supposed to return to SF early Tuesday morning from Newark (sound familiar) – and I can tell you I’ve had almost as much trama returning home as the disaster itsself – (okay so that’s a bit of an exageration.) Warning: people outside of Manhattan don’t get it. they may care and they certainly have opinions (this is the bay area after all) but the vibe is totally different, very removed. Maybe it will be good for you. I find myself ocillating between being relieved to be back and wanting to slap people back to reality. Only they never actually saw, heard, felt or smelled reality. For them the reality was only on TV. imagine trying to wrap your brain around the enormity of the dual collapse through the fully biased filter of the media. Might as well have been some bad Bruce Willis movie.
Good luck. Like your musings.