In this mortal realm there are few worthier causes for celebration than the birthday of whomever we love most deeply. The only close contender for inspiring a public display of gratitude for the circumstances of one’s existence might be the commemoration of the day you announced to the world at large that your beloved and yourself have decided to become partners for the duration of your journey through this life. And perhaps beyond it, if such is your inclination and belief.
So birthdays and anniversaries, in the Culture Vulture ethos and cosmology, are the most fundamental and essential holidays: the days most rightfully designated to muster our resources, gather our friends and share the bounty of our collective labors as manifested in food, drink, conversation, art and music.
For many if not the majority of couples, these most significant days are scattered across the calendar, separated by months or weeks of anticipation, but in the Culture Vulture household the cosmos, with only a little help on our part, has rolled a triple. For the lovely I. Daphne St. Brie and self the days June 3 (my birthday), 4 (our anniversary) and 5 (Daphie’s birthday) are the annual triad of most celebrated days, the center around which the rest of the temporal universe revolves.
And at this year’s party the mix of music, friendship and festive consumables was as close to perfect as the circumstances of existence allow, for not only did the barbecue turn out succulent, the fruit salad scrumptious, the deviled eggs delicious, and the ice chests bottomless, we also succeeded in debuting the band (so far nameless) that we formed after last year’s celebration, shortly after we made a trip to the Bay Area to find my beloved a bass guitar upon which to express her musical creativity. A hot pink metal-flake Daisy Rock bass guitar with a leopard skin strap, as it turned out, is just the thing for channeling the muse that flows through my beloved’s fingertips.
I’ll keep you posted if we ever reach escape velocity, give ourselves a name and start playing outside the cozy confines of the Culture Vulture World Headquarters living room.
Many thanks to my pal John LaPado for stopping in and getting the music flowing again after all others had toddled off into the evening. Our little lives are blessed by such moments.
For those who are wondering what I’m going on about with my ceaseless exhortations of the greatness of space-rock pioneers Hawkwind, I recommend visiting www.hawkwind.com/up_.htm and clicking on the link to the Roadburn Festival Web cast. If you have a decent set of speakers hooked up to your computer this great live recording, which was mixed down by Hawkwind founder Dave Brock, provides a sterling example of both the cosmic aspirations and psychedelic benevolence of this band of musical cosmonauts. And if you like what you hear, the band—which has been in existence since the late ‘60s—has a back catalogue that you can spend years exploring.