After we entered the café and milled around for an hour or so, sure enough some of the guys from the parking lot began taking their places on a postage stamp-sized stage. One guy began setting up a bass drum with a cymbal mounted on top. Another adjusted the angle of his snare drum that rested on a stand just in front of his position. The two trumpet players were assembling their horns, the trombone and sax players were tuning theirs, and the sousaphone player took the time to affix a microphone to his bell. It was maybe 10 or 15 minutes between the time they began setting up until the beginning of their set, and boy did they come out swinging.
The Soul Rebels are able to balance the tradition of
Mark and I were gettin’ down to these cats all night long; so were some other friends of ours that came to the show. We shouted, sweated, and clapped for two hours straight. (The Rebels don’t stop playing ever.) At the end of it all, I knew that I needed to be in the place every single time these guys came to town no matter where I may be. Missing a Rebels show is sacrilege.