A Random Moment With Johnny B. Azari

Johnny B. Azari, singer/songwriter and rambling man | Photo by Zach Gold

I met Johnny B. Azari at the restaurant Les Enfants Terribles (no more), then a week later I accepted his invitation to attend a performance of his blues duo (no more). Last year, I found out he wasn't in New York City anymore. But my love and intrigue for Johnny B. hasn't waned. He's currently touring the US -- The Tropic of Entropy tour -- leaving his mark and being marked. Track his music, movies and live performance dates on his website. Keep up with this ramblin' man on Instagram. He's making his way back east and when he gets to New York, I'll be sure to catch up with him for an update.


Before he embarked on his tour, I had a few questions for him...

Sunday Jam Session

Music.

It took me to 1960's Brooklyn and 1980's Harlem.

Took me through Argentinian pride and Uruguay strife.

It celebrated the West Indies and declared independence for Brazil.

Music took me to lovers' beds and hearts. The trips and falls in and out of love.

Took me to the great State of Texas.

Music took me to New Orleans to march with the saints.

Took me to a blues joint.

Music tugged secrets from our souls with each slide of the trombone.

Took me into the soul of a blossoming songwriter.

It softened angst and broke outer shells.

Music tasted like Guinness and Malbec and Mate.

Music filled the room. 8 people in a room and music will make it feel a hundred deep.

It softened a love cynic's heart and brought tears to eyes.

It sounded like throaty laughter on the 3 and 16 count.

Music left it's mark with the power of words.

It wrote this prose.

Music is the bass Griot.

It evoked cravings for cuchifritos.

Music was the glue that held handshakes, hugs and hips together.

It instructed the 2-step and the way he twirled her this way and that.

On a sticky September Sunday, it wasn't too hot for music.

Smokey Rhythms

for a friend of old and of new

It may appear as though I've been gone a while. And in a way I have been, I've been everywhere and nowhere. As a creative soul, I take these trips every once in while. Sleep is important for survival and I'm a cranky bitch when I don't get my fair share. But lately, I've barely been getting any. I've literally been living off of music, yogurt and my pen and notebook. Here's what I birthed last night on one of my psychedelic sleepless nights in and out of my body.

Smokey Rhythms

Remember the New York when you could smoke in bars? I went out a lot back then. Took home memories of those nights on my leather jacket. I could smell the events of the evenings in my jacket weeks later. The cigars, cigarettes, weed or cologne from my partners. It wasn’t a New York full of flower children practicing commune love or the key party 70’s but love was freer back then. Prudes may use the word “reckless”. Either way, I did what I did. No regrets. Just the dip in my belly when I relive the moments with him.