We dropped in this morning for the yard sale at the Mother-in-Law Lounge, where Antoinette K-Doe’s daughter was clearing out the collected gear that cluttered up the apartment upstairs to such a degree that she had to sleep on the downstairs sofa in the bar. Going through the K-Does’ leftovers was a more disspiriting exercise than I expected, though.

As always, it was great to see how many people from different walks of life felt connected to the K-Does. Still, both Ernie and Antoinette were such dynamic figures, and seeing the remnants of their life without them in made it seem like they were just another old couple. The upstairs apartment was dingy with an unpainted ceiling, and the closet was piled with bags of clothes that were out of date years if not decades ago.

Thankfully, the K-Does could never be completely ordinary; Betty wasn’t selling costumes, but despite that limit, a lot of sequins were walking out of the door. But Antoinette made such a powerful final statement as she laid in state in a glass-topped coffin in her Empress of the Universe gown complete with scepter, and anything less regal and dynamic than that is inevitably a little diminishing.

               

 

I was exploring Blip.fm, yet another networking device – this one allows you to send links to mp3s via Twitter and its own list – and found an extensive selection of Allen Toussaint on Warner Bros., much of which is hard to get otherwise right now. I haven’t further investigated the New Orleans-ness of Blip.fm, but so far I’ve been pleased by its range. Yes to Acid Mothers Temple, yes to the Mekons, yes to the Tindersticks, yes to Red Simpson, and I’m listening to K-Doe’s “Popeye Joe” while writing this.