Bruce Springsteen – Live in Atlanta

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I’ve seen many concerts, but Bruce Springsteen has not been among them. I’ve had opportunities, but while I respect and generally favor artists who continually grow, much of his music over the last two decades hasn’t appealed. 2007’s “Magic” caught my ear, and I really shouldn’t go through however many years and say “I never saw him.”  That path leads to regrets.  Those regrets came to roost with the passing of iconic band member Clarence Clemons last year, and having become a fan of Nils Lofgren, it was time to catch a rock legend… with his legendary band.

Perhaps in consideration of Atlanta’s penchant for arriving unfashionably late, Springsteen took the stage 37 minutes after the scheduled start. After a self-parodying and fairly hilarious self introduction (“the future of rock ‘n’ roll himself, he’s sexy and he knows it, the owner of the #1 album… for four days!”) the band kicked off with an anthemic “We Take Care of Our Own,” quickly followed by “Wrecking Ball,” the title track of his most recent CD.

It’s difficult to comment on the Wrecking Ball Tour without touching on Wrecking Ball itself.  It’s extremely well done – the lyrics, the tunefulness, the musicianship. Happily, Springsteen doesn’t sound like he’s trying to be Bob Dylan any more… Pete Seeger, well, guilty, but comfortably in his own E Street skin. But almost the entirety of the CD has a lyrical weight about it, basically remarking on tough economic times. There are uplifting moments, certainly, but the subject matter is a downer.  Springsteen has always written about the struggle, but supplanting youthful exuberance with moralistic imperatives... it's not for easy listening.

Two songs into the concert, two songs from the new CD…

“Badlands” to the rescue! The crowd roars in response to this classic, but, if you pay attention to the lyrics, he’s still working on a theme. And enter “Death to My Hometown.”  Don’t be fooled with the accordion and roots feel.  The driving beat, the hammered strums and the angry vocal delivery made clear his conviction, if not insistency, on the theme.

Heavy stuff, and not necessarily what I wanted from my first Bruce concert.  Take a breath, Bruce.  Lighten up.  And he did, talking to the audience, ultimately promising to “wake you, shake you, and take you to a higher ground!”

… followed by “My City of Ruins.”

When you expect or hope for one thing, and get another, you can either fret about it or appreciate what it is that you have. The E Street Band, now 16 members strong, does these songs really, really well.  However, If Stevie Van Zandt and Nils Lofgren are sidelined as rhythm guitarists, don’t despair.  It’s okay. He’s the Boss.  If the brass section and fiddle are defining the musical palette du jour, okay. If the whole of the E-Street Band is as static as a set of furniture (except Lofgren, who has casters) while Bruce runs around the house, so be it. It’s his house. And Clarence isn’t there.

Clarence isn’t there.  I tried to talk a friend into going with me to this show.  “No thanks.  I saw him a few times with Clarence.”  His absence hung there, waiting for an expression.

Springsteen handled the death of the tenor saxophonist with class. Jake Clemons, Clarence’s nephew, by this point had already received a huge outpouring of band and audience support during “Badlands,” but after introducing the band members, Springsteen asked “Are we missing anybody?” Spotlights lit the spaces where Clemons and former organist Danny Federici (who died in 2009) would have stood, and the crowd shouted “Clarence!” at each call.

And speaking of the old days, the band launched into “The E Street Shuffle,” a welcomed release, you might say, for both the band and the audience.  Plus, it’s a great song.

Springsteen then introduced “Jack of All Trades,” noting his concern about the economy’s downward turn in 2009 and the relative lack of demonstrable public outrage at the time.  Much of this song resonates until one comes to the last stanza:

So you use what you've got, and you learn to make do
You take the old, you make it new
If I had me a gun, I'd find the bastards and shoot 'em on sight

One can’t help but think back to The Clash’s “White Riot” for a social call to action, and the shouted agreement from sections in the audience was troubling.  Is murder (vigilante justice is too far a stretch) really the end goal?  And are people who paid $100 plus for tickets so disenfranchised that they’re all for it?  It’s just a concert.  Think about it some other time...

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“Seeds” followed, an older, darker toned rocker that didn’t really capture the audience.  “Easy Money” played well live, with wife Patti joining him on vocals.    And then, to some, a respite from tales of woe with “Waitin’ on a Sunny Day.” It’s a happy tune, but, per the title, the sunny day isn’t here yet. Still, it lifted the mood, and Springsteen reached out to a teen for well intentioned help.  Note: If you want to sing or dance with Bruce, get close to the stage and bring a sign.  He notices these.

“The Promised Land” carried the mood further.  Yes, it’s apparently a concert staple, but it’s always good to hear.    

Enter a short soul revue. Following his recent appearance at The Apollo, it makes sense. The band had the songs ready, and they were clearly having fun playing them. Still, being fair, other singers sing them better, and I’d bet 99% of the audience would have preferred, oh, “Candy’s Room” or anything from The River.   Still, if not singing of desperate times, these are oldies and, in some sense, fit in with the overall tone.  

And don’t forget that theme, mind you.  “Shackled and Drawn,” “Lonesome Day,” “The Rising,” “We Are Alive”...  It’s the Wrecking Ball tour, folks.  Ten of 13 tracks, even.  It wears, until finally, and finale, a rocking “Thunder Road.”

After the stage went dark for, being generous, a minute, the encore followed, opening with all those classic favorites for which fans had been waiting!

Not.

“Rocky Ground” and “Land of Hopes and Dreams.”  This review is likely sounding decidedly negative.  It’s not.  I enjoyed the show.  The E Street Band never seemed to work up a sweat for these songs, but that doesn’t mean they didn’t execute wonderfully.  They make Bruce sound as good as he can sound, and he sounded good anyway.  His voice was in fine form, and his energy level was through the roof.

The crowd finally joined him there with “Born to Run.” The arena was lit, fists pumping in the air everywhere, and Jake nails the sax solo.  “Dancing in the Dark” followed, a partying song for the dispirited or for those who don’t pay attention to the lyrics.  A teen with a sign got her Courtney Cox moment, and a couple of dancing tips even.   Everyone is having fun.

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What follows is offered with a nod to St. Patrick’s Day, “American Land.” Musically, sure, but the cynicism is still there.  Given the high watt dosage of the previous two songs and an easy feel, this song kept people up and moving.  (Fodder for essayists: lists of radio friendly Springsteen tunes that belie his lyrical point). 

And, finally, “Tenth Avenue Freeze Out,” recognized by the masses in a “Name that Tune” fractional moment.  The E-Street Band was all over this, the crowd was into it, the familiar lyrics flow “when the big man joined the band,” and the music stops.  Ear-splitting tribute followed from the crowd, while band members pointed skyward.  Literally minutes later, a drum snaps, and the piano kicks in to launch the rest of the song.

All told, this sounded like, and was, a fantastic Bruce Springsteen concert. High energy, great audience engagement, passionate delivery, and forget his age. He’s got it.

At the same time, it was disappointing Bruce and the E Street Band concert. And, I get it. Springsteen has floundered a bit, but remains relevant today.  Wrecking Ball validates that. 

I didn’t need to hear, or even plan to hear, a warmed up “best of” show. But even if Jake has to learn some more songs before the repertoire becomes more flexible, I think the show is the way it’s meant to be.  With the stellar talent on stage, they could reinvent older songs musically. The Boss chose not to.  It’s the Wrecking Ball tour.

4 of 5 STARS

Set List

We Take Care of Our Own
Wrecking Ball
Badlands
Death to My Hometown
My City of Ruins
The E Street Shuffle
Jack of All Trades
Seeds
Easy Money
Waitin’ on a Sunny Day
The Promised Land
The Way You Do the Things You Do
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Shackled and Drawn
Lonesome Day
The Rising
We Are Alive
Thunder Road

Encore:

Rocky Ground
Land of Hope and Dreams
Born to Run
Dancing in the Dark
American Land
Tenth Avenue Freeze-Out

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Micah Dalton – Live at Vinyl

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Dalton is an Atlanta based singer/guitarist.  I’ve been a fan since his 2008 release, Pawn Shop.  He plays regularly in the area, but most appearances are sans band, and the musicianship in Pawnshop contributed significantly to what I liked about that CD.   I’ve wanted to hear him with a band.  

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Fast forward four years, and Dalton has (finally) released a follow-up, Blue Frontier, which he has premiered with CD release “parties” in Birmingham and Atlanta.  Based on his last release, a continuing awareness IMG_2406of appearances in Atlanta, a band to support him, the timing on a Friday night, and a much appreciated door price ($12), it summed to a greater draw than the evenings NCAA’s March Madness.

As is my habit, I arrived early, in part because I hadn’t been to Vinyl before (a subset, of sorts, of Center Stage) and partly to experiment with camera settings.  Oh, and then there was the additional draw of a new beer brewer in town, Monday Night Brewing, who contributed free beer while supplies lasted.  They currently have two offerings, Eye Patch Ale (IPA) and Drafty Kilt Scotch Ale.  Despite their website suggestion of a “swashbuckling adventure” for the IPA, I found it to be a mainstream hoppy flavor with little to set it apart from others, but it certainly wasn’t lacking.   I was more interested in the Scotch Ale, which would come out after the IPA depleted... I’m not certain that ever happened.  Still, free beer is free beer, and it was pretty good.  The below humored me, especially as it’s actually in favor of said topic.

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The venue includes a reasonably sized stage, a standing area, a helping of tables and booths towards the rear, a capable bar, and a pool table.  The sound, all things considered, was pretty good with an exception noted later.

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The opening act, Shook Foil, scored higher on the originality of their name than their music.   Theirs seemed an overly long set for what sounded like a fairly new band, and it ultimately pushed Dalton into the early hours of the morning.  Still, they seemed musically adventurous at times, and, perhaps, in need of additional instruments to add options to their sound.  As a trio, it didn’t work for me.  A second act followed, Peter Groenwald, who has very good pop sensibilities and a ready-for-radio voice... if radio still mattered.   Good stuff. 

I didn’t enjoy Groenwald as much as I should have, though, being preoccupied with two things:  1) the inadequate air changes in the club (smoking allowed)  and 2) the din of conversation.  The many who were not there to listen thrust their chatter forward with an almost equal ease as the sound system.  For artist appreciation, Vinyl is definitely not Eddie’s Attic.

By the time Dalton took the stage, there were perhaps 150 gathered.  Many, I think, were friends, band members, band member’s friends, and regular supporters known to him.  I think all were there to hear him play, and blessedly, the whole turned from their conversations to his performance.

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Dalton wins with a very friendly, easy manner, and he gave a confident performance, launching into new material from the start.  Backed by various vocalists, at times, and a horn section, at times, plus drummer, keyboardist, bassist, and an electric guitarist (with very tasteful licks), Dalton sang while playing either acoustic or electric. 

Dalton played most, if not all, of the songs from his new CD, each rather immediately likeable.  The songs with brass were particularly enjoyable, both for the punch and the dynamic appeal.  Admittedly, the hour was late, but it would have been nice to have heard what was on his mind when he wrote some of the songs.  It was my first CD release party... other than new CDs ready for purchase and free beer, I suppose I had imagined an artist wanting to share more about the music than just the music. 

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When the show wrapped, Dalton had played an efficient set of new tracks, plus three of the best songs from Pawn Shop.  The guy has talent, a great sense of song development, and ear for what sounds right.  Overall, it just makes one wonder about all the other artists out there who are worth hearing, who toil at their labor of love, and who likely will never find a sizeable audience.  I contributed to his cause, buying a CD at the end, which he kindly autographed.  Again, expectations suffered.  I was the only one who asked for an autograph.  I guess others will have their iTunes downloads autographed. 

Related thought:  What will CD release parties be called when there are no longer CDs?  “New download party” just doesn’t sound appealing or event worthy.

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4 of 5 STARS

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Brad’s Grill – Home of the Messy Burger

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Gainesville, GA is off the beaten path for me.  A coworker visited there a while back, and when leaving an appointment, his contact suggested he stop and have a taste of iconic Gainesville.  He did, and IMG_2376being directed towards “The Messy Burger,” ordered same, to go.

A couple miles down the road, he pulled over, the size and “messy” proving too difficult to multitask without ruining his clothes.  I’ve since heard from a couple of others that The Messy Burger is a deserving stopping point, if not a destination.

The opportunity, finally, arose.

It doesn’t look like much from the outside, but burger joints don’t have to.  Entered from the side of a small strip center type building, I actually missed it as I was driving from the other direction.  But it’s there, if you look for it.

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The inside?  Decent, faux-building inside a building defining the decor.  The geography almost demands a UGA Bulldogs motif, which was present.  Sadly.  A queue line has a wall sized menu of a wide variety of offerings which I didn’t bother to consider.  After all, I was here for the Messy Burger.  The counter service was warm and efficient, and the wait was not too long.

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Ah, yes, the burger itself.  This includes:

Two beef patties – ground chuck - you get your half pound of meat.
Lettuce – fresh and crispy.
Tomato – pretty sure it was in there somewhere.
Ketchup – it makes everything better.
Mustard – just a bit for flavor, not an overpowering dose, thankfully.
Cheese (optional) – I opted not.
Bacon – cooked short of being crispy but thoroughly enough to minimize the fat.
Pickles – well, yeah.
Onions – eh, no. Not on one of my burgers, unless fried.
Cole slaw – it’s what distinguishes “messy” from “big.”

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The best thing about this burger was that it tasted like a fine burger.  The flavor of the meat carries through the experience, proving more than just a substrate for layered additives.  Really, really good.

Other good things about the burger?  It was not nearly as messy as I might have expected.  The meat patties did not drip grease, and the bun did well to hold the assemblage in place until the final bite.  That’s not small feat.

Fries?  Darned good.  Sure, they’re frozen, but what makes good fries is the proper amount of time in the fryer, but also the type of and regular change out of the cooking oil.

For someone who only occasionally goes to Gainesville, there’s no reason to eat anywhere else.

Stars 5 of 5

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Jethro Tull – Aqualung (40th Anniversary)

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Aqualung first came to my attention by way of my High School English teacher’s wife’s brother, but not to his knowledge.  With assorted other albums (Traffic’s John Barleycorn and CCR’s Green River being the other notables), he had moved out and left about a dozen albums behind to an unknown fate.   Aqualung was initially striking due to the anachronistic musical leanings of English madrigals, built over Brit folk and/or progressive rock.  An oddity.   Nevertheless, the use of flute as a lead instrument was refreshing, as was lead singer Ian Anderson’s pronounced English accent.  It was also striking in that my record needle hit scratches that dispelled any sense of a groove.  You get what you pay for.

But, even without scratches, the album just never sounded that good.  Sure, radio airplay kept “Aqualung” and “Locomotive Breath” in front of me, but other than the tune, I never bothered to really listen, even with a “Best of” CD, where the sound had been somewhat improved. 

About 30 years later after my first full listen, it was time for a full revisit, not coincidentally at the same time as a full remaster of the classic album by someone with proven skills. 

I’m not going to “review” the album, much.  There’s 40 years of reviews out there.  I will say that this new edition is well worth it for anyone who likes Jethro Tull.  The music is finally heard – ringing acoustic guitar, flute tone, percussion thumps and rings, gritty electric guitar leads, clear piano... all without sacrificing the 1971 era “sound.” 

Kudos to Porcupine Tree’s Steven Wilson, who remastered the recording from the original tapes.  After this and King Crimson’s older works, I’d like him to tackle early Genesis...
The end result here, though, is makes the whole thing listenable.  If you only played the record for “the hits,” you probably wouldn’t have cared much about the rest of the songs.  Now that it’s listenable, the entirety is quite enjoyable. I not only could make out the lyrics, I wanted to.  Then at 23 years old, Ian Anderson wrote very good prose, meaningful in ways that other “progressive rock” bands didn’t even consider on their quest for over-reaching banality.  Anderson considers  the treatment of the poor, the ethics of taking from the rich, the societal neglect of taking care of others, the inconsistency within a relationship, the God question...

So, things I take away:

1.  ”Aqualung” – it’s a strange name.  I can now hear the explanation for it, and Anderson even helpfully explains in the new liner notes.  As he was considering living on the street, he imagined that the person would be of ill health, with pneumonia type symptoms, thus the lyric “Hey and you snatch your rattling last breaths, with deep-sea diver sounds.”  It’s still a different character name.

2.  In an age where it seems most fans demand jaw dropping instrumental virtuosity, this band, if it’s had, doesn’t show it.  Instead, the CD makes a very compelling case of, first and foremost, how well Anderson had worked out the songs prior to the band’s contributions, but also how well musicians can contribute when they buy into the vision.  The whole is greater than the parts – viewed within each song or the album as a whole.

3.  The liner notes indicate that in the same studio at the same time, Led Zeppelin was recording their 4th album.  I wonder what other occasions there have been where two landmark albums were recorded at the same time.  Led Zep clearly go the better recording room.

4.  The bonus disk includes alternative versions of some songs plus others not included on the original release.  Most interesting, though, was a radio ad which, to be in context, deserves a reminder that the year was 1971.  In this, Anderson remarks, “I was really trying to destroy the last vestiges of the old God concept that i was brought up with.”  And, he follows with “Anybody who has a god, while i respect the God, i don’t respect the person unless he can show me concrete evidence of why he’s adopted this god.”

That’s signals an uncertainty between faith and agnosticism, but it makes for a decidedly religiously themed album.  As clearly as Anderson pushes off the trappings of religion, namely the Church of England,he affirms the God concept just the same.  From “Wind Up” and "My God,” respectively:
So I left there in the morning
with their God tucked underneath my arm --
their half-assed smiles and the book of rules.
So I asked this God a question
and by way of firm reply,
He said -- I'm not the kind you have to wind up on Sundays.

He is the God of nothing
If that's all that you can see
You are the God of everything
He's inside you and me
So lean upon him gently
And don't call on him to save you
From your social graces
And the sins you used to waive
These were brave words then, but relevant words even today, given the difficulties that major denominations are having maintaining membership amidst a spiritually desirous society that seeks more options...  The Devil, it might be said, is in the details, as those options not only refer to distancing from entrenched church authorities or even  traditional worship experience, but also to new gods, new beliefs and different, if not absent,  accountabilities.   

4 of 5 copy

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Day Trip (with a camera)

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I used to drive a lot on business, generally before the age of digital cameras.  It was a peaceful time, a private time even, to enjoy the simple pleasures of driving.  Music CDs, books on tape, AM or FM radio… or silence to accompany me.  I might be thinking about my next appointment, or my thoughts my drift elsewhere. 

In either case, there were frequently things that I would see off to the side of the road that made me wish I had a camera.  Some were scenic, some were funny, some I just thought might be interesting to share with my wife.  But I didn’t have a camera, and I often didn’t have time to stop anyway.

Times have changed.  Digital pictures cost nothing, and leaving an hour early left ample time to stop and take a picture whenever I wanted.  Why not?

The following pictures were taken on a Canon G-11, processed in Adobe Camera RAW, cropped and altered in Photoshop, and exported to my iPhone to be toyed with using the Camera+ App.  Photoshop was used as I might for any photo, short of putting in a fake blue sky.   Camera+ was used for effect, evidenced largely by increased color saturation and the rather simple addition of picture “frames.”  Pairings include both versions, and any picture can be enlarged by double-clicking. 

 

“Alabama Welcomes You” along a rural road.  The only welcome center facilities are scattered pines.

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Almost all fireworks are illegal in Georgia.  Therefore, they’re sold just across the State line in neighboring States.  This road was no different.

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Careful as you drive as you never know when the trees will ambush you.

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Remains of houses, barns, and mobile homes are plentiful for photo ops.  I prefer brick.  This home site is apparently used by youth for camp fires and who knows what.  It’s not exactly a hidden location, being adjacent to a State road.  When I see these, I can’t help but wonder who livered there and how the property came to be in the condition that it is in.

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There’s nothing like adding a little country quaintness than a paddle wheel.  They’re frequently added to all sorts of buildings, like apartment complex clubhouses, for visual appeal, I would surmise.  Well, it worked on me.  The wheel might actually turn, but it’s decorative only.

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We don’t see much of Quonset huts any more.  I’m sure some enterprising person can find someone in China to make them and export them here.

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Speaking of cheap metal, I happened upon this exclusive opportunity for a prototype Toyota.  You can tell it’s a prototype because, uh, there’s no license plate, the spoiler is handcrafted of metal of barely sturdier stuff than aluminum foil, and there’s Bondo aplenty.  Like the alteration to the car, there’s just no way to make this picture look better.  But I couldn’t help but share.

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Along this route, or most every route in the South, there are frequently churches.  The below humored me.

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Nearby, there was another building whose styling is no longer made.  Watch your step leaving the 2nd floor door, by the way.

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The drive was obviously rural, with occasional scenic vistas of valleys, streams, lakes, and such as this.

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One road side resident has a woodworking hobby, selling birdhouses, chairs, tables, bird feeders, etc. These are displayed alongside the road to bait passing photographers.

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Some observations come as no surprise, namely the allegiance that many Southrons have for certain 19th century flags.   The below picture is a trifecta of a peculiar sort, with the concrete filled tires as make-do bases, a symbolically divisive flag, and another lawn ornament in the background just as likely to offend, never mind the cardboard “curtains.”

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Antico Pizza, Atlanta, GA

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I am not a pizza critic.  I find most chain delivery pizzas perfectly edible.  That said, I do prefer the aromas and ambience of most pizza restaurants.  Or, I just like to eat out.

A coworker found THE best pizza restaurant in Atlanta, which compares favorably with the BEST pizza restaurants in the northeast, from which he comes.  Mhmm.  He eats out a lot, and I generally respect his opinions.

A kid, oops, young adult, I hired, ventured downtown on a weekend jaunt and reported to me that he found THE BEST pizza in Atlanta, which was almost as good as THE BEST pizza he’s ever had, during his one trip to Manhattan.  He’s from UCLA, that being the Ugliest Corner of Lower Alabama.  His opinions… taken with the spirit in which they’re intended.

 

Still, that’s two recommendations for exceptional pizza, at a location very near to the GA Tech campus at which my daughter attends.  Therefore, with the wife, the son, the college sophomore, and her boyfriend, off we go on the adventure.

Antico Pizza doesn’t look like much from the outside.  Parking is limited, and it’s located on a street where Tech students are regularly liberated of their personal belongings if they happen to be walking after 11 p.m.

But we didn’t go after 11 p.m.  Upon arrival, we found the pizza to be fairly crowded, and we just went with the flow.  First, to the counter where upon the cashier was very helpful in recommending their more popular pizzas for first timers. 

We ordered a Margherita pizza, with pepperoni for more substance, and a San Gennaro, which included red peppers and sausage.   Pizzas are one size fits all, which summed 2 for the 5 of us.  Beverages, unfortunately, are limited to overpriced, undersized colas and other bottled drinks.  In any case, it’s a simple process.

With others behind, we move forward, following others, past one large family dining style table into the larger room… where there are more family style tables.  We stand against the wall, in a line of sorts, waiting for a spot for 5 to open.  Before this happens, a lady approaches with a baking pan with our two pizzas, looks over the crowded tables, and leads us to our table, which heretofore might have been assumed to be a prep table.    There are no chairs, but the manager (owner?) politely points out the “VIP” colored on a corner, and… it’s true.  We dine while watching the pizzas being made, literally a couple feet away.

This includes a bit of kneading, a hand toss, a smattering of the base, and some of the freshest tasting toppings I’ve ever had on a pizza, plus a lot of good humor amongst the kitchen staff.  That’s important as there are no dividing walls between those preparing and those eating.  Instant “atmosphere.”  It’s rather interesting to watch the chef as he uses a long handled “peel” to quickly turn the pizza within the wood fired oven, gracefully warming the dough and lifting it to the upper reaches with regular motions.  They’re assembled and cooked in just a few minutes.

Much care is given to preserving the Napoletana traditions, studied by the owners in Italy.  Everything seems suitably authentic, less a foreign country and a foreign language.  Those going should probably anticipate spending $12 or so per person, depending whether or not you buy a drink (a cup of water is free).  With our surprisingly hungry crew, perfect hindsight suggests spending even more, should you bring along your daughter’s 6’6” boyfriend.

4 of 5 STARS

 


(It may be 5 starts, but I still hope there’s better out there).

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What’s in Your Backyard?

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With a spouse who has an Economic Zoology (wildlife management) degree and boards2a heavy lean towards the artistic, I finally came up with an original idea for a Christmas gift. 
As it happens, our back yard is a magnet for animals, as a river is a natural barrier to wildlife, further evidenced by a worn path that hints at regular traffic. 
Further, our dogs bark at night when we put them on the deck.  They’re not just barking to be let in faster, right?  Surely, there’s something out there.
That’s a trail camera, used by hunters to monitor feed lots or other areas where they want to scout the type of animal activity that passes through.  Battery powered, with a 8MB SD memory card.   The camera is motion activated, with a 45’ range, taking 3 shots when triggered.  It can take video, which we may yet do.
So, let’s see what’s out there.
You would probably expect deer.  Not a bad photo. 

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There were tons of photos that featured slowly migrating deer.  Not exactly exciting.  Feeding deer, still deer, deer tails, deerleted.  On my computer anyway.

Off to the right on the next photo is the tell-tail sign of raccoon.

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The pictures at night get an assist from an invisible LED flash.  Cool, eh?  Well, how about a fox?

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We think it’s a fox, anyway, based on this and other motion blurred pictures.  Or, do we have foxes?  A few days later… may be the same… maybe not.

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Or, it could be a dainty coyote, unlike the following:

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That’s not a dainty coyote. A close-up reveals that we have rabbits as well.  Or had.
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And, finally, we have a surprising addition, a bobcat.

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Those are spots, not just a grainy shot.  And all of this in a suburb of Atlanta, on a cul-de-sac lot in a regular ol’ neighborhood.  You just never know.

Now, if we can just get the bobcat, or fox, to strike a pose.  Silly deer.

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