Here's something you might be interested in.
Ask a Hipster — Advice you didn't know you needed
Big Screen — Movie commentary
Blurt — Music's inside track
Booze News — San Diego spirits
Classical Music — Immortal beauty
Classifieds — Free and easy
Close to Home — What it’s like on the street where you live
Cover Stories — Front-page features
Drinks All Around — Bartenders' drink recipes
Excerpts — Literary and spiritual excerpts
Feast! — Food & drink reviews
Feature Stories — Local news & stories
Fishing Report — What’s getting hooked from ship and shore
From the Archives — Spotlight on the past
Golden Dreams — Talk of the town
The Gonzo Report — Making the musical scene, or at least reporting from it
Letters — Our inbox
Movies@Home — Local movie buffs share favorites
Movie Reviews — Our critics' picks and pans
Musician Interviews — Up close with local artists
Neighborhood News from Stringers — Hyperlocal news
News Ticker — News & politics
Obermeyer — San Diego politics illustrated
Outdoors — Weekly changes in flora and fauna
Overheard in San Diego — Eavesdropping illustrated
Poetry — The old and the new
Reader Travel — Travel section built by travelers
Reading — The hunt for intellectuals
Roam-O-Rama — SoCal's best hiking/biking trails
San Diego Beer — Inside San Diego suds
SD on the QT — Almost factual news
Sheep and Goats — Places of worship
Special Issues — The best of
Street Style — San Diego streets have style
Surf Diego — Real stories from those braving the waves
Theater — On stage in San Diego this week
Tin Fork — Silver spoon alternative
Under the Radar — Matt Potter's undercover work
Unforgettable — Long-ago San Diego
Unreal Estate — San Diego's priciest pads
Your Week — Daily event picks
Gonzo Report: Cool music & hot & sour soup at Mira Mesa's Golden Island
Singer Cobby really is just a vintage girl in a modern world
“Are you a swing dancer?” asks the woman from a table adjacent to mine. She smiles, verifying that the question is indeed intended for me. I tell her no, I’m a writer, but this doesn’t seem to satisfy her, which is understandable because dancers can be writers, and I’m sure some writers can dance. Just not this one. I tell her that I’m here at Golden Island Dim Sum and Asian Cuisine in Mira Mesa to cover the singer Cobby.
I understand why she asked me about swing. Cobby is in the middle of her first set, and the floor is filled with dancers of all descriptions. Couples, mothers with their children, and one couple that seems particularly in sync. They twirl and swirl and kick without damaging each other or the other people on the floor. It's not the reckless abandon of a mosh pit, but their movements are just as charged by the music. I’m spellbound by the execution, and probably staring at them. I can feel my eyebrow raise in involuntary response as the woman from the synced pair leaves and returns with a different partner, also seamlessly concerted.
By the time my food arrives, Cobby (who until recently performed under her full name Cobby Brzeski) and the band are in full swing (get it?) and I shift my stare to the small mountain of orange peel chicken and hot and sour soup. My snob trait is that I judge all Asian cuisine by its hot and sour soup, thanks to author Andrew Vachss’ constant mention of it as restorative at Mama’s Kitchen. I’ll never taste Mama’s soup, but Golden Island’s is outstanding, as is the chicken. I hoped this would be the case, as I’ve been here before for a jazz show. Consistent quality is comforting. When Maggie, who took my order, saw me looking at the menu, she asked if I wanted Beijing beef or orange chicken, as if reading my mind — also comforting, and a bit eerie. But it turns out they’re just the most popular items on the menu.
The stage looks bigger than I remmber, and Bardic Management honcho Andrew Bustamante tells me he built the extensions in his garage. He’s exhausted after hosting several corporate events over the last few days, but remains pleasant. He also seems invested in the artists on his roster — a man on a mission to counter the toxicity of the music industry.
Cobby’s voice and flute are backed by pianist Melonie Grinnell (The Grinnells), guitarist Jon Garner (The Garners), bassist Paul Tillery (Trains Across the Sea), and drummer Richard Sellers (Rothko Quartet), with JP Balmat (The Red Fox Tails) and Nightshade Navarro (The Mad Hat Hucksters) laying down the horns. But her voice remains the focal point, offering lilting melodies and diving sorrows that remind me of Vera Lynn singing about “The Little Boy That Santa Claus Forgot.”
Video:
Vera Lynne: "The Little Boy that Santa Claus Forgot"
Granted, I only know about the song because it starts off the film version of Pink Floyd’s The Wall and she has a song bearing her name on that album, but we get knowledge where we get it, and the emotional resonance isn’t dictated by provenance. In addition to jazz standards, Cobby carries on the tradition of jazz versions of popular songs, offering numbers by the likes of Maroon 5 and Katy Perry — living up to her reputation as a “vintage girl in a modern world.”
The dancer with the supernatural flow is Ashley Mazanec, a singer and recording artist with a fascination for rock operas. Predictably, I get verbal diarrhea and spout off my favorites and how they predict or integrate into various social changes. She’s very cool about it, and tips me off to another jazz club up north a bit. Before I meander a bit more, I notice that all the people sharing a table with Mazanec are dancing, several with her. I dub them the dancer’s table and make another dent in my mountain (now a small hill) of chicken, the soup long gone.
I spot a couple with the man wearing an Alice Cooper shirt, and our mutual love for the man and his original band brings a warm close to the evening. The Alice guy turns out to be Phil Tish, the guitarist for the Eric Clapton tribute band Strange Crew featuring Cobby on vocals. (He jokes that she doesn’t want anyone to know, but she seems proud of this when I mention it.) Tish and his companion Kim Purcell stroll with me down the memory lane of shows we’ve been to, when some debate occurs on the where and when. I leave them to work it out and finally finish my chicken, refusing to take any home to my wife because she didn’t come with me, and yes, I’m that petty.
Here's something you might be interested in.
Gonzo Report: Cool music & hot & sour soup at Mira Mesa's Golden Island
Singer Cobby really is just a vintage girl in a modern world
Gonzo Report: Cool music & hot & sour soup at Mira Mesa's Golden Island
Singer Cobby really is just a vintage girl in a modern world
“Are you a swing dancer?” asks the woman from a table adjacent to mine. She smiles, verifying that the question is indeed intended for me. I tell her no, I’m a writer, but this doesn’t seem to satisfy her, which is understandable because dancers can be writers, and I’m sure some writers can dance. Just not this one. I tell her that I’m here at Golden Island Dim Sum and Asian Cuisine in Mira Mesa to cover the singer Cobby.
I understand why she asked me about swing. Cobby is in the middle of her first set, and the floor is filled with dancers of all descriptions. Couples, mothers with their children, and one couple that seems particularly in sync. They twirl and swirl and kick without damaging each other or the other people on the floor. It's not the reckless abandon of a mosh pit, but their movements are just as charged by the music. I’m spellbound by the execution, and probably staring at them. I can feel my eyebrow raise in involuntary response as the woman from the synced pair leaves and returns with a different partner, also seamlessly concerted.
By the time my food arrives, Cobby (who until recently performed under her full name Cobby Brzeski) and the band are in full swing (get it?) and I shift my stare to the small mountain of orange peel chicken and hot and sour soup. My snob trait is that I judge all Asian cuisine by its hot and sour soup, thanks to author Andrew Vachss’ constant mention of it as restorative at Mama’s Kitchen. I’ll never taste Mama’s soup, but Golden Island’s is outstanding, as is the chicken. I hoped this would be the case, as I’ve been here before for a jazz show. Consistent quality is comforting. When Maggie, who took my order, saw me looking at the menu, she asked if I wanted Beijing beef or orange chicken, as if reading my mind — also comforting, and a bit eerie. But it turns out they’re just the most popular items on the menu.
The stage looks bigger than I remmber, and Bardic Management honcho Andrew Bustamante tells me he built the extensions in his garage. He’s exhausted after hosting several corporate events over the last few days, but remains pleasant. He also seems invested in the artists on his roster — a man on a mission to counter the toxicity of the music industry.
Cobby’s voice and flute are backed by pianist Melonie Grinnell (The Grinnells), guitarist Jon Garner (The Garners), bassist Paul Tillery (Trains Across the Sea), and drummer Richard Sellers (Rothko Quartet), with JP Balmat (The Red Fox Tails) and Nightshade Navarro (The Mad Hat Hucksters) laying down the horns. But her voice remains the focal point, offering lilting melodies and diving sorrows that remind me of Vera Lynn singing about “The Little Boy That Santa Claus Forgot.”
Video:
Vera Lynne: "The Little Boy that Santa Claus Forgot"
Granted, I only know about the song because it starts off the film version of Pink Floyd’s The Wall and she has a song bearing her name on that album, but we get knowledge where we get it, and the emotional resonance isn’t dictated by provenance. In addition to jazz standards, Cobby carries on the tradition of jazz versions of popular songs, offering numbers by the likes of Maroon 5 and Katy Perry — living up to her reputation as a “vintage girl in a modern world.”
The dancer with the supernatural flow is Ashley Mazanec, a singer and recording artist with a fascination for rock operas. Predictably, I get verbal diarrhea and spout off my favorites and how they predict or integrate into various social changes. She’s very cool about it, and tips me off to another jazz club up north a bit. Before I meander a bit more, I notice that all the people sharing a table with Mazanec are dancing, several with her. I dub them the dancer’s table and make another dent in my mountain (now a small hill) of chicken, the soup long gone.
I spot a couple with the man wearing an Alice Cooper shirt, and our mutual love for the man and his original band brings a warm close to the evening. The Alice guy turns out to be Phil Tish, the guitarist for the Eric Clapton tribute band Strange Crew featuring Cobby on vocals. (He jokes that she doesn’t want anyone to know, but she seems proud of this when I mention it.) Tish and his companion Kim Purcell stroll with me down the memory lane of shows we’ve been to, when some debate occurs on the where and when. I leave them to work it out and finally finish my chicken, refusing to take any home to my wife because she didn’t come with me, and yes, I’m that petty.
Comments