Ngozi Family-Everything is Over
The Ngozi Family (Ngozi means “danger”) were another proponent of 70’s Zamrock (Rock from the African country of Zambia) this is from their 1975 album 45,000 volts (to listen, click on song title below)
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Jon Francis was nice enough to interview me about doing lighting. I don’t know how to embed anything on my blog but here’s the link. I already posted this on Facebook. thank you
It was a shit day off, I had just gotten into a beef with my next door neighbor (aka: the trash burner). When that kind of stuff happens, I replay it constantly in my head and it hamstrings my day. I had to go to Foodtown, I knew the potential for annoyance* was high, but I wanted to get out of the house. I wanted to make a surgical strike, I needed salad from the salad bar, some apples, yogurt, laundry detergent, and paper towels. I didn’t need a cart or a basket, in my head I figured out my store route; salad,apples,detergent,towels,yogurt, check-out. I had a giant cup of coffee before I left and I felt bulletproof. I got in and everything went to plan, I started celebrating (well, maybe not celebrating but it was the kind of day where any victory was good) and then I hit the check-out (cue the brake squealing, record scratching sound). The shortest line was the express line but in front of me was an old guy in a motorized assist cart and a guy who comes into my store who’s referred to as “The Kasabian guy”. A nice enough guy who seems a bit medicated and always asked about upcoming releases for this english band called Kasabian, sometimes he’d come in a couple of times a week and check. I hadn’t seen him in a while and I really didn’t want to get into a conversation much less a conversation about Kasabian. The guy in the motorized cart was going as fast as a guy in a motorized cart can go and the Kasabian guy had his stuff all spread out on the conveyer belt and was standing in such a way that I couldn’t put anything down without risking a conversation. It was about this time that my pyramid of groceries started to shift (remember I didn’t want to be slowed down by a cart or basket). It was a good stack, in my left hand a flat container of salad with carton of individual yogurts on top and a bag of apples resting on top of everything. In my right hand, a roll of paper towels under my arm and the jug of detergent in my hand. The apples started rolling around in their bag, threatening to spill out, I tried to steady it and ended up dropping everything onto the conveyer belt, knocking over most of the Kasabian guy’s stuff. I apologized to him and he had no idea who I was. In my flustered-ness I blurted out, “Still listening to Kasabian?”, he made a weird lemon face and said no.
*A side note to the word “annoy”. My wife says I never met a pun I didn’t like and I know that puns are the lowest rung of humor but… A long time ago my friend Dave and I did a couple of songs on a four-track under the name Annoy-Bauten ( a pun on german band Einsturzende Neubauten), we did a couple of Sabbath songs (I forget which) and impersonated William Shatner singing them. Not as good as it sounds.
Thursday is garbage day. I usually take out the garbage cans early, this morning I forgot. I was reminded when I heard the truck on our street. I ran out of the house in my socks and dragged the full can to the curb just as the truck was pulling up. I was pretty psyched that I made it and I yelled to the guys on the truck, “Man, I just made it. Wow.” I don’t know why I said it, as soon as the words left my mouth I wanted to grab them and stuff them back in. These guys didn’t give a shit and why would they, *”Oh, you mean if you were thirty seconds later we wouldn’t have to pick up your shitty garbage this week. You’re right, that calls for champagne.” All four of the guys on the truck just looked at me with a flat level stare, I managed to croak “….have a good day.” and slunk back inside the house.