days of wine and roses

In fifteen minutes, the air inside the bar exploded with the chords and rhythms of gypsy music. If there hadn't been barely enough space to sit, I doubt anyone could have resisted dancing. Fingers flew from fret to fret, finding each note effortlessly, all the while driven onwards by the furious tapping of a washboard percussion section. During a winding transition through three standards, me and my friend were suddenly struck dumb by a glint of light through the air in front of his fingerboard as his high E string snapped under the pressure. We both watched in disbelief for a second as he played on, simply ignoring the space where his string used to be. My friend turned and mouthed the words "bad ass," before becoming once more transfixed. The D string went during the third set.

The band told us later that their gig at Barbes on Sundays is the best in the week, so if you're a New York resident, make sure to go. If you're not a New York resident, move to a city with a real music scene, or at least consider a trip down for a show sometime.