Dr. John, New Orleans' most recognizable purveyor of palatable, watered-down jazz/funk/soul delivered what must have been his millionth rendition of Right Place/Wrong Time at some club somewhere last night.
Visibly slouching under his beret, he all but ate the microphone, muttering lyrics that have been so oft repeated his mind was clearly elsewhere.
"Hell, I think I was wondering what movie to order in my hotel room later than night," the good Doctor subsequently explained, absent-mindedly pushing a lime around in his Diet Coke with a pair of tiny red cocktail straws. "I haven't seen Rocky Balboa yet, and I saw it was available on demand. Maybe I'll check that out."
John then slouched off the bar stool in half-hearted response to the crowd of conventioneers (regional sales managers for a major retailer) calling for an encore. His mild disgust was barely concealed by the amber lenses of his round sunglasses as he put his fingers on the keys and said with a wince: "It looks like I'm in the right place after all." This drew a drunken cheer from the crowd and a twitch of nausea from John himself.
He then began playing, you guessed it, a chorus of Right Place one more time. He then segued into Iko Iko - a transition he didn't even realize he'd made until more than halfway through the song. Afterwards, he was visibly resigned.
"All these whitebread jazz and blues fans, clapping out of rhythm and shaking their heads side to side. Whatever. Yeah, I'll wear the beret and scarf if that helps. Ooh, don't I look like a musician? Cripes. All the beads and pins and crap. Just once I'd like to throw on a golf shirt and call it a day."
John then realized he was speaking relatively unfractured English. He quickly regained his performance persona: "Ah means t' said, 'less gets us some good time!' Yah yah right?"
After the show, several patrons observed John talking to Aaron Neville, and asking him "how the hell he puts up with all this bullshit."