Now, puh-leeze don’t get me wrong, I loved every second of Rebirth Brass Band‘s set at the Mint last week. Phenomenal New Orleans funkadelicious sound. Unbelievable talent, dedication and skill. Big love for the Crescent City and its Saints. And one SUPER STONED trumpet player. It was HYSTERICAL.
He stood on the stage, horn at his side, seemingly oblivious to the deafening decibels, studying his HAND. “Dude dude dude. Look at my HAND, dude.” But then, in between his eyes rolling up into his head and looking like all 6-feet of him might topple off the stage and crush awesome pal Nicole, he’d pick up his trumpet and play a fairly respectable solo.
How the HELL do they do that?! There’s no way I could do my job that stoned. (But I’m a piss poor smoker and have never claimed to be otherwise. I melt into a pool of paranoia, praying for the rollercoaster to stop so that I can get off.)
He’d sip a shot, blow his horn, then wander off (right in the middle of a song) and come back with another shot. The poor short dude next to him had to support his vocals during his absence and stood on tippy-toe to reach his mike.
I just read an article in the Times-Picayune about how the band was started by two brothers who played for their high school marching band. (Sweet.) And how Rebirth celebrated its official 25th anniversary in 2008. (Established.) It also mentions how snare drum player Derrick Tabb recently started the Roots of Music, which conducts after school music classes for children.
Obviously, these are some seriously NICE guys. And I can’t blame Stoner Trumpet for sampling our LA kind. (We got medicinal grade up in here.) But I do feel compelled to mention that Trombone Shorty runs circles around Rebirth, energy-wise. So maybe next time, guys, sample an Ice Blended at Coffee Bean before your show instead?