As promised, a coda to yesterday’s post.
As fraternities go, RPI’s chapter of Sigma Chi might have been a fun one to join.
In addition to an interesting cast of characters, the Sigs of the Sixties had their own R&B party band, Oedipus and the Mothers.
Oedipus might not have had the stage presence of Otis Day and the Knights, but they were surprisingly funky for a group of future engineers, architects and college professors. Their bust-ass versions of James Brown’s “Night Train” and Bo Diddley’s “Can’t Judge A Book” are still some of the strongest arguments ever crafted for the existence of the Greek system.
Full disclosure: I have twice had the pleasure of playing guitar with Oedipus at their reunion gigs, which is what brought me to my dad’s frat house.
You won’t hear me on the following songs, though. These are live recordings from the spring of 1965, taped at the Sig house on Pinewoods Avenue, Troy. This is what a Sixties frat party sounded like — at least, at a fraternity fortunate enough to have its own band.
I’ll provide the music; you provide the toga. Enjoy:
Oedipus and the Mothers:
Woody High, guitar and vocals; and Jim Straw, bass.
Lou Chiappetta, drums and vocals.
Gary Simundza, trombone.
Rod Blumenau, saxophone.
Oh, the memories!!! Nice photo of the house – testament to a good photographer!
I usually do pretty well taking pix of things that don’t move.
This raises the question of whether your dad was getting up on tables and dancing during his performance like you did in the newsroom. From what I understand, research has shown that those types of behaviors have a genetic link. And when I say “research” I mean my personal observation at the vast number of fraternity parties I attended.
Thanks for sharing. I am going to take off this sheet I tied around my shoulders and get back to work.
Dear Ms. Goofy:
I have never danced on tables, with or without my sax. I once saw a tenor sax player with the Spike Jones band do that on TV in the early 50′s. I might have had the genetic inclination but suppressed it knowing I was less coordinated than my sons and would likely have hurt myself.
When I was the age at which Kurt allegedly danced on tables, I did play saxophone several times with a band on a real gig (a) laying on my back on the floor, (b) walking around the dance floor bothering the dancers, and (c) once played a chorus of “Misty” while standing on a high diving board during a pool party (great acoustics). But good heavens, I would never dance on a table!
Kurt’s Biological Father
A few salient points:
1) It was not exactly a table I danced on; it was an old, battered, but solidly built wooden desk.
2) My dancing radiated such animal magnetism that the young lady I was dancing with went home with me.
(Sixteen years and five addresses later, she is still home with me.)
I can only interpret that to mean that I had — as the kids today put it — the moves like Jagger.
Dear KWB’s Bio Dad,
Thanks for taking the time to answer my question. I suspect that table-dancing is a natural talent that you have not fully explored. But it is clear you have moves to spare.
I think I am most impressed with the sax solo on a high dive. I was just saying the other day that people don’t do enough jazz standards at pool parties nowadays. And “Misty” is a great song under those circumstances. It’s like you *were* like a kitten up a tree, only you were a sax player up a high dive. It was both an impressive feat and a brave artistic choice.
Keep on rockin’ the elevated surfaces, Mr. B.
Ms. Goofy
I am very surprised that the point of reference for the kids today is Jagger, not Michael!
Mick is back in the news thanks to a recent hit song by the band Maroon 5, “Moves Like Jagger,” in which the narrator makes claim to possessing same.
I guess Mick’s legacy is strong enough that today’s 14-year-old hit radio listeners are impressed by the notion of having “moves like Jagger.”
By “Michael” I assume you mean Jackson. Not sure how much of an icon he is to today’s kids, since he went through that long period in the commercial wilderness before he died.
I am not hip enough to know for sure who sets the terpsichorean standard for today’s youth.