Late Night Sax
Last week after playing soccer on one of the only grass fields in Cabinda, we stopped at a little kiosk to have a couple beers. I was with my buddy Cabeche and his friend Ignacio, who both speak good English—Cabeche works for Halliburton and Ignacio for a Canadian contractor.
We were about three cervejas deep when the conversation shifted from sports to music. I was impressed by Cabeche’s broad taste in tunes.
I got hip-hop like Biggie, Mos Def, Jedi Mind Tricks.
– Tupac?
No! No Tupac.
Nice. No Tupac. And Jedi Mind Tricks? Impressive.
And I have music like Coldplay, John Mayer and Pearl Jam.
Hm. OK … slightly dubious, but it’s understandable: rock music isn’t really big here.
And … I have that guy. He plays the sax … What’s his name? …
I let the silence hang there. Don’t say it.
– Sax?
Yeah … you know: Sax (making a motion of playing a straight clarinet-style instrument.) Really good romantic music.
Uh oh. He’s going there. I paused a second, hoping he’d think of some guy I didn’t know of, but Cabeche just scratched his head, thinking hard.
– Uhm. Kenny G?
YEAH! That’s it. Kenny G. That guy is GOOD.
No irony. No wink.
I let it slide.
I think Angola is single-handedly keeping the careers of various adult contemporary stars afloat: Kenny G, Celine Dion, Phil Collins. Just the other day, I was eating breakfast to the soothing sounds of a Kenny G Christmas.
No offense if you happen to like the smooth jams of these artists … it’s just weird to hear ballads from Whitney Houston sandwiched between Tchuna Baby and nonstop Kuduro.
I guess there are some things about Angola I’ll just never understand.
vs.
As always, I enjoyed this, but now am suffering from recurring unpleasant memories of being trapped with KG playing in the background. Didn’t your Mom go through a KG phase in Germany. On second thought, ignore this question as I’m trying to forget again.
D