A Night at the Carousel

I was going to leave this city for a bit during the break in between the two summer semesters. I really wanted to drink some Albariño in Galicia with the Percebes (Gooseneck Barnacles) that are ungodly expensive everywhere, but worth trying once in life I guess. I did some calculations with where I stand financially and realized I probably couldn’t even afford the Percebes, much less all the vacation expenses required to get to the north and sleep somewhere involved in the pilgrimage. I guess in the end I couldn’t justify the fact that I am still paying rent for my room in Minneapolis, the studio my band practices in, the apartment I have here in Lisbon, and then a hotel room in northwestern Spain as well. There has to be a limit to the impoverished American decadence I believe. So instead of heading for gastronomic heights I opted to further my academic goals by hitting the beaches of Cascais (while reading about the introduction of rock & roll in Portugal as well as the best Portuguese punk, post-punk, metal, and new-wave albums that are completely impossible to get even here). This neglect of national cultural history is maddening to me. Have they never heard of reissues?!!? Jesus Christ, I’m not going to spend 150 Euro for an original 45 of Aqui d’el Rock! Who’s with me? So in order to do my primary research of this time period I will need to start robbing banks. Wouldn’t that be a great new take on the outlaw? “No, I’m not mugging you to get my heroin fix, I just need to get some LPs so I can finish my dissertation.”

After the beach I went with some flatmates to see (in the Lisbon version of movies in the park) “Roxie Hart”, which I realized after a few minutes must have been what the musical film “Chicago” was based on. I gleaned some new old-timey vocabulary from the film at least—when the prisoner Roxie Hart (played by Ginger Rogers) is sent food from the glitzy Chicago hotel called The Ritz, she says “ooh they even sent alligator pears” which are never shown, but from the Spanish (instead of Portuguese for some reason) subtitles that translated these as “aguacates” I realized that this was the name for avocados back in the day. From now on I will only refer to avocados as alligator pears. So the night isn’t a complete loss. I also love the fact that during the fight scene in the female prison between Roxie Hart and 2-Gun Gertie Baxter was highlighted by some grip that caught a lively cat fight. They actually laid the sounds of two alley cats fighting over the main prison fight seen. How delightfully un-p.c.

On our way back we saw some live Portuguese neo-funk band playing in the Praça de Figueiros. Everyone who was left in Lisbon (most natives split in August) was gathered to watch this brilliant (purposeful?) confusion of genres. I was finally convinced that no matter where/when a band plays throughout the world there will always be one dude who will let loose in all drunken splendor. The video I post here is the Lisbon version of this internationally loved/despised character. Although I didn’t get it on tape, for one entire song he did a fascist salute/ Nazi high kick soldier dance that would make John Cleese jealous. Absolutely Fabulous. I love Lisbon. Why should I leave this haven of freaks for some overpriced parasitic delicacy?