Well that was a wild ending. I didn’t want to strip tonight. But I mentioned off hand last night that I would get down to my boxers if people came back the second night to my last Staxx show.
Well f☆☆☆☆☆ck. I drank a bit last night and I usually don’t, and I forgot that mischievous offer. The crowd called me out. I never plan that. When I made spontaneous sweet love to that Hammond organ in my boxers at Seamonster, I wondered the rest of the week how that happened so naturally and how the hell I even get away with this sh☆t. You are supposed to pay $5 if you use the organ at Seamonster and I feel like that organ owes me $5.
But here I am, feeling all the feels with my frosty heart, and I am not feeling like parading about gingerly on this particular stage in such a way. But my word is my word is my word.
….even though, I realized that in my rush to brunch this morning, I threw on those whitey tighties from when I weighed 300 lbs, I don’t know 8 months ago. If I had a shred of fear, that would have been pretty mortifying. But I started this whole spontaneous routine when I was out weighing and working an average NFL offensive lineman. The main problem was just that the briefs might fall off, and also, I didn’t wanna.
But I was rewarded for my bravery and keeping my word by a gaggle of beautiful local maidens who shoved some impressive bills in my loose fitting undergarment.
This is something that only happened previously on a couple occassions in San Francisco when I made a routine out of woman and the occassional non binary bro shoving gas money down our bass players pants at The Boom Boom Room. That was a garden of beautiful hedonistic freaks and degenerate tech workers. This was a quasi Germanic tourist village that pedals nick nacks and heady microbrews.
Part of why I hit the breaks on The Staxx Brothers is because I took it as far as I could. The music was great. The showmanship a parlor trick. I recorded the show. The music is there.
The band was smokin’.
This 5th version tied for my favorite line up ever. It was our biggest sound. It’s almost a soul funk orchestra with keys and three horns.
But how much farther can I take this routine? It’s always really about how serious I am about the music. We’re not up against other bands. We’re up against netflix and Game of Thrones.
You will listen. But Winter has come.
I may never strip for money again, but I only did it because you need to pay attention to these tunes man. “1992” is a good song. “Eko Rock” is a good afrobeat tune.
Are you not entertained? You know what would have been embarassing? Stripping to poorly written tunes. Taking off your clothes to a good song is kind of the point.
Never say never again. But that was a fitting end to an excellent era in my life. What I did night to night was unheard of. But Seattle crowds are famously hard to make dance, or even feel a goddamn thing.
I found my ways to own every crowd I stepped out in front of. I made club owners and security laugh and love the reaction that would have got another singer escorted out. But I know the line. And if you are killing it, you can push that line another 7 or 8 inches, depending on the temperature of the room. But no more than 7 and 3/4s to be perfectly charitable and frank.
It’s time to dream up another show. Because this Broadway show is closed after a spectacular run.
Musicians today tell me we’re healing it now. No man, not me. I came to Kill it. Always. I can say with only a few exceptions, I killed em all.
Good game, and remember there is no shame, and it ain’t no sin, in believing you were born to win. I just wish these Hipsters would have looked at the scoreboard every once in a while.
Because we were a good band. The first four albums are as always just a couple clicks away. May they live on long long long after I am gone.
As for me, my name is pronounced Davin. As in I am no longer misbehavin’. Peace.
This trip has been pretty darn magical. Kind of being a loner for a couple hours in a town filled with old friends and new ones shouting “I’ll see you tonight at der Hinterhof” or just shaking hands, saying “last night, Damn.”
In a few hours I’ll be the life of the party. The master of ceremonies. The mad one.
I am pretty darn lucky I have been able to be Peter Pan for 16 years because of this band. It’s time to pause and handle some business so I can take these songs and these dreams further. So when I come back here again, it’s a bigger ball game.
If you don’t invest in yourself and the folks in your life, it all falls apart. The music has a way of keeping us together.
I have written (or co-written) certain songs with the intention of keeping the gang together.
Songs like ‘Westsound Union’, ‘Warpath’, and ‘Keep The Motor Runnin’…
It certainly worked…for quite a while.
Music is an ancient medicine. But you gotta keep mixing it.
Keep stirring. Keep that kitty purrin’
Before I come back here again, under what ever name, I want to have played Germany. I don’t want to come back here to headline another show like this one, until I have told the charming true story of a dying logging town that became an Alpine holiday village to survive…and how it thrives today.
Well that was a wild ending. I didn’t want to strip tonight. But I mentioned off hand last night that I would get down to my boxers if people came back the second night to my last Staxx show.
This trip has been pretty darn magical. Kind of being a loner for a couple hours in a town filled with old friends and new ones shouting “I’ll see you tonight at der Hinterhof” or just shaking hands, saying “last night, Damn.”
– Musician and writer Davin Michael Stedman has many ventures, such as the AMAZING blog, 100milesofmusic.com, and is one of the driving forces behind the Staxx Brothers. This past spring he spent weeks networking in and reporting from Kingston, Jamaica. He will return there soon for more recording. His single with British band Sherlock Soul is now available as well.
