Zydeco

I went to a Zydeco concert last night with my friend Jeannie.

It was Fat Tuesday and I assumed this would be at some sort of bar-type establishment. Fat Tuesday, Zydeco, Mardi Gras - it all smacks of alcohol and crawdads to me.

It was actually in a high school auditorium.

Sans beer.

They were absolutely amazing. But man did I feel for them. The crowd tended toward the geriatric. They were not the let-loose-backcountry-dance-in-the-aisle-type folks.

It was painful. I yelled and even danced a bit, but I don't think it helped.

Let me tell you a little bit about this group, though.

Terrence Simien is incredible...

• He makes the accordion sexy.
• He plays on stage barefoot.
• He throws Mardi Gras beads into the crowd with his toes.
• His lead guitarist is ridiculously good.
• So is the keyboardist - but I wished I could have heard him better.
• He has an accordion that says "I Love Hippie Chicks"on it.
• His smile is... um.....

Let's just talk about his smile.

His smile is angel/devil split about 60/40. (Click here and enlarge the picture of him with Angelica Houston. You will see what I mean.)

His smile is able to change from happy, delirious, mocking and flirtatious - BUT the dimensions of his smile are always the same. Maybe it is body language. Or his eyes. Whatever it is I found myself either smiling at his joy or laughing at the secret that his grin conveyed.

I felt like his smile was letting me in on a private joke.

Man, he was great.

I know it must have been horrible to spend his Fat Tuesday with an unresponsive and conservative crowd of old people, but his smile never once faded.

It may have secretly mocked, but it never faded.

And his feet. I have to tell you about his feet.

I have already mentioned that he is onstage barefoot. Ripped jeans, a smile like a Cheshire cat, and bare feet.

Sigh.

I have a thing about men and bare feet. I don't think it is necessarily a foot fetish. It has to be the right type of guy, with the right type of pants (no shorts, no slacks. Jeans - preferably frayed a bit around the bottom hem) and the right kind of feet.

And there it was. The right kind of guy, pants and feet! On stage!

I think it must be a subconscious symbol of vunerability. Or comfort. Or a "I'm not going anywhere for awhile 'cause I have my shoes off" thing.

I couldn't sleep when I got home.

I don't know about those old people, but I had a great night.