The Jazzfest Wien is very generous. They invite artists to play and people don’t even have to pay to see them. Like yesterday, when we went and saw Melody Gardot, a 23 year old singer with quite a past.
The bluesy jazz she sang was betrayed by her rather witty, self-deprecating demeanor on stage. Her band, consisting of three black-clad guys, looked like they were having a really good time too.
With the concert being free of charge, the audience was not ideal, but fortunately, the accustics in front of the city hall are remarkably crisp, where even the hushed notes were discernible. Thus, even the fucking cunt (excuse my French, but the Internets is where I can vent. In real life I’m far too timid) behind us who couldn’t stop blabbing away on her phone about the “super jazz” she was listening to right now, wasn’t that much of a problem.
Here’s photos:
The bass player is the proud owner of the best beard of all times.
Melody Gardot forgot, or maybe pretended to, the chords and lyrics to a song they were about to play. Very charming.
It’s been awfully quiet round here lately, which fortunately is not due to me losing my limbs in a horrible freak-accident, but mainly due to my preoccupation with things not more important, but certainly more pressing.
Nevertheless, here’s another installment of my ‘tini Chronicles (’tini, as compared to Martini, is the way actual cocktail-insiders talk. Or it’s the way idiots talk, I haven’t quite figured that out yet).
I saw the above mixer-set advertised in the Sunday papers. It was really cheap, and since I don’t adhere to the saying that those who buy cheap, buy twice, I went and bought the set. I’m now in the fortunate position to be able to stir my Martini with a professional stirring spoon, which you may think is not much different from any other long-stemmed spoon, but you’re wrong. It’s actually got the pictogram of a Martini-glass stenciled right into it. What better way to stir your Martini than with a spoon that’s totally in the spirit of the whole venture?
And, if you compare images of earlier Chronicles, you’ll notice that the new shaker is of elegantly crafted metal, which lies in stark contrast to my first shaker, a stylish but yuppie-ish white plastic thing. Not that I didn’t like it! I’ll hold it dearly in my heart for the rest of my life for being the tool that helped me lose my cocktail-virginity, and maybe, in the years to come, I will dig it out again and use it just for old times’ sake.
In the end, what I prepared was a strict 2:1, dry Vermouth, three Olive-Martini. I think I noticed a slight metallic taste during the first sip, but that could have been mere imagination.
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