"When the East is in the house...DANGER"

Put out the word Coppa Stone has emerged, surged, most prefered from the verbs and words I finesse...

Boston. The City of Neighborhoods. The Unofficial capital of New England. Home to the Kennedys, Paul Pierce & the Celtics, the Red Sox, Damon & Affleck, baked beans, and that guy Benzino. The city of Firsts, the first public school, the first subway system, but more importantly, my first appearance in the Boston area.

I was scheduled to perform at the Lizard Lounge in Cambridge, just outside of Boston, alongside the Jeff Robinson Trio for the weekly Poetry Jam on Sundays. With only one show scheduled, I had a lot of extra down time to explore. During that time, I was able to visit a couple different food spots: a Jamaican restaurant called Lorenz Island Cuisine in Dorchester, a Chinese spot in Quincy Market in Faneuil Marketplace, and a Haitian restaurant called El Rancho Cafe in Hyde Park. Big respect to my breddren Haitian Jonas and his fiance, Rochelle for the guided tours within the Caribbean side of Boston, and providing a place for us to lay our heads. I was also able to check out Harvard Square, and the surrounding Harvard University campus, the oldest institution of higher learning in the United States, establised in 1636; Barack Obama's alma mater.



So there I was, between Harvard and Porter Square, Good Will Hunting like Robin Williams, the little Jamaican bwoy made it to the Ivy League, we gone clear breddren. We arrived at the Lizard Lounge with nuff time to spare. The trio was in full swing...before the music portion, there was the poetry slam. There was one particular poet who had apparently spent a little too much time at the bar, I forget his name, but he provided endless entertainment for the evening, trust that. The funny thing is the MC for the night, Mr. Jeff Robinson himself, called him out in front of everybody, but he would soon switch places with him.

My slot was the last, so I would close out the night. The poetry was good for the most part, and the live jazz the trio provided as the backdrop was wicked still. By the time I got to the mic, everybody was extra twisted, blame it on the A-Ah-Ah-Ah-Alcohol...

By this time, I was worried about how my reggae stylings would mix with the jazz trio, because as always, this was live and direct, on the spot, no rehearsal, so you dun kno, we jus haffi do the work. A couple people had left because it was a long night, but there was a good crowd left still. Mr. Jeff Robinson gave me a brief intro, I added my own introduction, and started off acapella, so the trio could follow my lead, but when they started playing, they went in a whole different direction, so I had to flip it like Us3, Flip Fantasia...at first it was rough, but it got smoother as we got deeper in to the set...by the end, the trio was on some Pliers, "This man, never trouble no man, but if you trouble this man..." or maybe Chaka Demus and Pliers, "Murder she wrote..." the jazz remix...



Apparently, Mr.Jeff Robinson had spent a little too much time at the bar as well, because when he took the mic to close out the night, he broke out in to a long "Jah Rastafari" chant, repeating that several times, and then began licking shots and jumping up with his saxophone...and the trio just started getting mad...and then just like Dorothy's house in Kansas, BAM, "what a bam bam," the Jeff Robinson Trio came to a crashing end...and scene.



Respect due to the Jeff Robinso Trio, dem bredda deh can play...intoxicated or not, Mr. Robinson is bad pon the sax, so respect due indeed...is a done deal...PEACE to Boston...we out...