a night out, puppy-style

Few things in life give me such joy as the act of sharing the music I love with friends. Especially in a live setting -- heads bobbing, performers sweating, bass reverberating -- there's just a visceral pleasure in seeing your favorite music playing on the senses of those you've proselytized. It's partly ego -- they have you to thank, after all -- but I like to think it also stems from a deeper desire to ensure that good art doesn't go unappreciated. I want talented independent musicians to grow their listenership so I can say I was there first, yes, but also because they deserve it. And I want my friends to reap from the music the same joy I do.

That's why last night was such a thrill. Katie and I, along with friends Harper and Ellen, ventured out to the Bowery Poetry Club to see one of my favorite young bands, a fusion collective called Snarky Puppy. I'd met some of the guys from Snarky years ago, and I've watched them develop from an interesting modern jazz outfit into the vein-busting rhythmic bememouth they are today. Last night's show featured eight of the 29 (yep, 29) musicians who subbed in and out of the lineup on the group's latest release, Bring Us The Bright. 

Despite a tardy start time that frustrated those of us who actually had work in the morning (present company not included), the evening was an unequivicol triumph, on both musical and evangelical grounds. The band's skin-tight grooves, jarring syncopations and dazzling array of sounds left me buzzing the remainder of the night. And just as satisfying, my companions were similarly riveted by the performance. Katie grinned and glowed. Harper danced in his chair, even getting up to shake the bandleader's hand afterward. Ellen -- well, I wasn't really sitting next to her, but I think she dug it. The point is, I'd won some new converts to the Snarky Puppy cause. And it felt good.