Hipster Kiwis laying down the funk at The Good Luck bar in Wellington, New Zealand.

As a point of fact, I should never be the most gangster person in a bar, no matter what. With that in mind, let me take you on a journey to the other side of the world where there indeed was a bar, hosting a hip-hop show no less, that had the street cred of a Coldplay concert.

The Good Luck is a local watering hole and music venue in Wellington, New Zealand. Why was I in Wellington? Well, it’s just about as far away from New York as you can get, but that’s another story. Steel doors and a windowless storefront made for an intimidating façade on a street eerily reminiscent of San Francisco, from the coffee houses to the crap weather.

I’d been in New Zealand for a few weeks at this point, but had yet to venture out to a local show, so when I saw ads posted around the small, swank, seaside city for “REAL Hip Hop,” I was intrigued by the promise of hardcore kiwi beats. Now, I’ve been to hip hop shows in Los Angeles, and while I don’t exactly fit the profile at these shows, I at least know what I’m in for, but the uncertainty of an international hip-hop audience was a bit daunting.

I stood outside convincing myself that I was down enough to enter this den. I argued my case in my head: I’d been to an invitation only Snoop Dogg show once, I’d just been tattooed the night before by a former member of the Latin Kings gang, and whatever bitches, I was from South Central!

So after some internal debate I concluded that indeed I was “mad ill” enough to enter The Good Luck. First obstacle: the bouncer at the top of the stairs that led to a dark underground with more steel doors asks for my ID, which I’d conveniently left back at my hostel room.

“Oh, umm I’m 24.” I’m screwed, I thought.

“Oh, alright then.” Hmm, just as I suspected – it was surely going to be hella-sketchy down there. I mean, I have the ability to look tops 21, but that usually requires a heap of makeup and a shoulder padded blazer as I storm into a liquor store in Korea Town acting like I just got out of my stressful 9 to 5 job in the hopes of not getting carded.

I entered the subterranean level of The Good Luck, which is modeled after a Chinese Opium Den. The ambience was actually pretty relaxing and there weren’t many people around, so I grabbed a pint of the only New Zealand brewed beer that doesn’t taste like carbonated river water, Lion Red.

“There you are, love,” the bartender smiled handing me the glass. Hmm, not the most badass way to serve a drink, but ok.

What happened next was not expected, although, had I looked at the clues, it really shouldn’t have been a surprise. A grand total of eight New Zealand hipsters occupied the dance floor before a DJ enthusiastically spinning tunes that harkened to a 90’s I’d never heard before. Kiwis in converse were laying down possibly the whitest dance moves I’ve never seen. I laughed to myself, eyebrows raised high towards the ceiling, musing over my earlier anxiety about this show.

Am I the most badass person in this room? Knowing this to be one of the seven signs of the apocalypse I didn’t stick around long enough to find out, but just long enough for a couple more Lion Red’s.

I pushed my way back through the damp streets against unearthly strong winds that seemed more fitting for another planet let alone another hemisphere. In the midst of these hurricane-like conditions that no one else seemed too affected by, I caught sight of a Maori dude rapping under the dim light of a closed storefront. Maori are the indigenous people of New Zealand (think Whale Rider, and if you’ve never seen the film Whale Rider…then go see the film Whale Rider and thank me later).

Alas here were the sick rhymes I’d been promised. Nothing about his bitches and ho’s. Nothing about his fancy car or house like so many popular hip hop songs today that pretty much sound like an episode of Cribs, auto-tuned and under 3 minutes. This was the real deal. No steel doors – just a baseball cap for spare change.

On the whole, Wellington blew me away (literally and figuratively). It seemed like everything in the city was some kind of venue for theatre, music, film and art, and it will forever remain the city in which I enjoyed the best burger and hot chocolate of my life, until of course I eat a better burger somewhere else.

Wow! I turned my party mode on! I’ve been hitting the Hollywood club scene hard lately. Through this time, I had the chance to check it out different clubs, meet new people, and simply have fun. Every week a new post review about a club. Here is this week’s club review on Wonderland.

Wonderland:

Great to go on Thursdays. It’s not over packed, just has the right amount of people in there to make it possible to walk, dance and chat. I went there on a Thursday, and really enjoyed. It was a nice surprise. The crowd consisted of a mix of interesting and good looking people. The music was well selected. I mean, it’s mainly hip-hop or top 40, but the DJ also mixed with older songs, creating an appealing feeling for the public. I danced non-stop with my friends. It was such a pleasant night! The club, which is located on Cahuenga Blvd, has a decent space, and it’s well decorated. In one side, the bar takes it over, on the other side, tables. There isn’t a specific dance floor, but people were dancing everywhere. That’s what I liked about because you can dance and interact with people at the same time. There’s no need to separate these two actions from happening simultaneously.

Overall, my grade would be a B+.

Wonderland: 1835 North Cahuenga Blvd, Los Angeles, CA 90028-5001

(323) 957-1599

Hours: Wed thru Sun 10pm-2am

One year ago I published my first article on this website about the jazz festival at the Hollywood-Highland Center. It was hopeful that people would read it and like it, and ask me to keep going. It was also full of feelings that were inside of me all this time just waiting to be released. Well, for a first review I think I did a very decent job. My point is that I came back to the same jazz festival named “Wine, Jazz & Moonlight” this year to see what has changed there and, on me. The evening was magical and we still did our part to support Project Angel Food by purchasing a $10 box of cheese, crackers, and grapes, and two glasses of wine. We combined our wish to help with our wish to have fun.

I remember writing about my father and how much he likes this type of music, but he’s not the only one. My sister, Fernanda, also likes it very much. When I went there, I had her special company, whom I’ve last seen in January in Brazil. I felt like our family was together again. She was here visiting me for a week, and since I know that she likes jazz, I invited her to go with me on a Tuesday. We couldn’t have chosen better Tuesday! Moreover, we couldn’t be happier!

The band playing that night was “Poncho Sanchez and His Latin Jazz Band”. A latin jazz band that put everybody in a terrific mood. The center courtyard, where the performances are held, was totally packed. No single space available! Even more, people standing in all levels of the mall. From children to seniors, all ages seemed to be overjoyed by the music and the night. I can tell that there’s a major difference when you go by yourself and when you go with somebody else, mainly if that person is family. For me, it was like my father was there with us watching the concert. I am sure he’d be amazed to be there and to have his daughters appreciating the same taste in music as his.

Their songs were very joyful and upbeat, one better than another. In the middle of a public of adults, there was a little girl dancing, which turned that moment to be the cutest moment of the night. People were so ecstatic to the point of getting up from their seats and dancing. The crowd only stopped because a man named Roberto “stole” the scene. He danced all around amongst rows by himself. It was the best moment of the night! He had quite a performance, and we, certainly, had a blast that evening. Even my sister began to dance after having had those two glasses of wine.

Last year’s performance was great and so important because it was the one which began everything else. This year’s, though, has a special meaning because I had the chance to share the moment with my sister. Coming back one year later, made me realize the long path I’ve been walking and how I progressed. That, nobody can feel but me. It is something indescribable. Better feeling than this, doesn’t exist!

Henry Hauser, Rock Critic, Berkeley, CA

Big thanks to Molly B. for snapping this great shot of psychedelic minstrel Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros

Edward Sharpe was sent down to Earth to “heal and save mankind…but he kept getting distracted by girls and falling in love.” Somehow, frontman ALex Ebert turned that half-baked premise into the best psychedelic folk album since Devendra’s Cripple Crow. Props!

As the band gets into character, Ebert appears in white jeans, loose eggshell blazer, pink silk shirt, and a scarlet scarf. His hips sway scandalously as Ebert’s shoulders bob fluidly to the building thump of the band’s percussionist. The music’s physically demands movement, thrusting the crowd into a jittery spasm. Transforming into Edward Sharp, without warning Ebert’s eyes are lit ablaze as a spiritual, sexual possession bursts from his joints. Shifting weight from tiptoe to tiptoe, the frontman spastically raises his arms to the sky, gyrates his pelvis, and in orgasmic rapture, leaps headlong into the audience.

Donovan-esqe narrative and refined satirical wit meet psychedelic melodies on “40 Day Dream.” Ebert, now crowd surfing barefoot, lets out a velvety warble in unison with his disciples, “I inhaled just a little bit / Now I got no fear of death / It’s the magical mystery kind!” Remarking on the “fucking miracle” that he was alive and playing Outside Lands, Ebert unleashed “Desert Song,” a blur of godlike echo and instrumental Armageddon. The enlightened demolition culminated at exactly 4:20 pm.
Hypnotizing chorus and alluring melody collide with wit and dramatic imagery in energetic “Home.” Ebert and girlfriend Jade Castrinos waltz around the stage, backed by a painfully catchy vocal melody and carefree, country whistle. Genre-blazing across alt-country, psychedelic, and neo-folk, Ed Sharpe cried “Love! Love! Love!” atop thousand part harmonies.

Obscured by a hanging projector screen decorated with protean psychedelic shapes, a pair of disembodied royal purple slacks glided across the Slim’s stage. A wall of fog hung over the Golden Gate, as the jasmine bombarded the olfactory system and a nippy gust foreshadowed the crisp San Francisco summer’s eve.

Since forming Built to Spill almost two decades ago, the indie crusader Doug Martsh, an undisputed master of those magnificent floating trousers, has astonished guitar aficionados with intricate, meandering melodies and inconceivably precise riffs. Though he’s already treated us to seven LPs, a blues solo record, and three live albums, Martsch attests that he is still “amazed by the possibilities of making music.”

Before that high arching July sun retreated into the Pacific, the openers Fauxbois wet our whistles with shoegaze tunes and crafty Fender solos. The band tapped a refreshing female backup vocal to complement their finely tuned falsettos, as the packed crowd shuffled from side to side, absentmindedly scanning the venue’s exposed brick walls and buzzing neon PBR logo.

The Idaho stalwarts Built to Spill broke the linearity of time as they took the stage by storm, hurling their disciples into a nostalgic fit of euphoria with “Reasons,” from their classic 1994 album, There’s Nothing Wrong With Love. Martsh’s nimble digits blurred the frets with spectral virtuosity, as his right leg pulsed in spastic jolts.

Despite being in the midst of an arduous national tour consisting of 60+ shows, the band showed no signs of slowing. Pools of sweat sprung from Martsh’s grey sprinkled beard, as harsh stage lights reflected blindingly off his glistening dome. True to his introspective reputation, the frontman uttered few words. At his most loquacious: “it’s a little bit warm, but otherwise, really fun.” Right on both counts, Doug! Though you forgot to mention that even the usually overpowering aroma of concert pot failed to mask the acrid B.O. wafting from numerous arm(pit)s waving in the front row.

A whopping bass supplemented the cascading guitar on “Hindsight,” a gem off Built to Spill’s latest LP, There Is No Enemy. Martsh’s baldhead vibrated vigorously, in a concurrent showing of remorse and recognition: “hindsight’s given me / too much memory,” he queried, “is the grass just greener ‘cause its fake?”

The escalating guitar chord progression served as an accompanying middle finger to the ruthless taunts in their performance of the cathartic “Carry the Zero”: “you have become what you thought was dumb / a fraction of the sum.” The putdown would eventually be extended universally: “yeah you’ve all become a fraction of the sum,” shouted Martsch, amidst a melodic guitar and that distinctively serene, seductive whisper of a vocal.

After splashing some water on their sweat-drenched faces, Built To Spill reemerged for a twenty-minute jam rendition of “Conventional Wisdom.” Martsh howled over the blistering guitar in an enlightened wisdom, telling us that “some things you can’t explain, / like why we’re all embracing conventional wisdom in a world that is so un-con-ven-tion-al,” drawing out his final word before blasting into that unmistakably anthemic hook of the song. The wah-wah pedal dangled loosely, enveloping the crowd in his lofty solo, as the veteran mourned in an ineffable agony: “they don’t know they’re wrong / but you know that they never can see that / that’s what makes them strong.”

Martsh, one of the premier artists of our era, overflows the visible with that magical energy which we call the rock n’ roll spirit.

Gothic chandeliers dip and dangle overhead the Fillmore Auditorium, as flannel clad folksters scrupulously survey burgundy velvet curtains. A conduit for many cataclysmic, history-shifting performances from such immortals as Jefferson Airplane, The Grateful Dead, Miles Davis and The Who, to name drop a few, the SF Fillmore has since been purchased, branded, and franchised by Live Nation, creator of the 50% “convenience surcharge” and the sworn enemy of the church of rock n’ roll. Though Denver, Detroit, Philly, NYC, and Charlotte now also stake claims to the Fillmore name, music venue historians write off these abominations. But hey, the campaign against corporatism can wait; we’re here for a show.

As the front man and songwriter Eric Earley glided modestly onto the stage, an oscillating sea of iPhone cameras, contraband lighters and an easily identifiable sweet, pungent aroma greeted him. Earley kicked back his head, sending jet-black waves into a turbulent jiggle, strapping his signature mother-of-pearl tipped Gibson. From the harmonica-drenched “Silver Moon” to the animalistic “Fur,” the Portland folk group dug deep into its diverse catalog, delighting the hundreds in attendance. Fresh off an appearance on the Jimmy Fallon Show to promote their newest LP, Destroyer of the Void, Blitzen’s tight, infectious hooks and seamless vocal harmonies shook the Fillmore from its hallowed hardwood floorboards to its cathedral ceiling.

Dedicated fans, refusing to go home and to bed without a “Sleepytime in the Western World” sendoff, stomped and hollered until the sextet returned for a healthy encore. “Congratulations, San Francisco,” rhythm guitarist and melodica virtuoso Drew Laughery lauded and “laugh”-eried: “that was the most superior encore call of the entire tour!”

The audience erupted again, soaking up the well-earned praise. Midnight and the shut-down public transportation rapidly approaching, Earley capped off the evening, purring an A Capella:

“your eyelids are made of lead you can’t keep them up / ’cause it’s sleepytime / and that’s no crime in the western world.”

Steel Train front man Jack Antonoff, clad in shredded jeans and that denim jacket from Born in the USA, emphatically pumped his fists while storming the Great American Music Hall stage, no doubt paying homage to the Garden State’s larger than life son, Bruce.

Kicking off America’s birthday weekend with skittering, soaring piano and resilient, survivalist lyrics on “I Feel Weird,” Antonoff is drawn headlong into the self-destructive and oft pointless blame game, howling “if something is lost than there’s something to frame” — voice straining and cracking in passionate agony, “a fire burns and it’s for you!”

Following an ugly break with Drive-Thru Records earlier this year, NJ natives Steel Train self-released LP number three just last week on the band’s newly minted label, Terrible Thrills.

While Antonoff begged the crowd to buy Steel Train’s eponymous LP, curiously, I realized that despite healthy stockpiles of florescent American Appeal Tees and multicolor buttons scattered across the merchandise table, no vinyl was to be found. Apparently, a record label divorce takes its toll, as the band dourly admitted that they no longer smoke pot, but instead merely “worry about stuff and take antidepressants, but not the fun kind.”

Terrible Thrills Vol. 1, a companion album to the Steel Train LP, showcases female covers of all 12 tracks on the new album, including cameos by effeminate indie rockers Tegan and Sara, actress Scarlett Johannson, and the synthesizer fetishizer Deradoorian of Dirty Projectors.

Transitioning from anthemic, toy piano littered “Firecracker” to a power punk rendition of The Boss’s unabashedly poppy “Dancing in the Dark,” Steel Train whipped the Friday night crowd into a frenzy with an impromptu jam on an audience-hurled conch shell. The Jersey natives constantly flaunted the great exports that their homeland have to offer – from backwoods townies to Jewish basketball stars- before harnessing the controlled distortion of fragile, heart wrenching “Kill Monsters In The Rain.” Antonoff’s belching Gibson emerged as a second vocal throughout, complementing the track’s deconstructive rhythmic jilt with its expressive deep, scar-ridden sentiment.

Befitting its former role as a neighborhood brothel, SF’s Great American Music Hall is adorned with decadent, lavish moldings, with garish red paint and octagonal vanity mirrors lining the outer walls. Some key features of the venue include an extremely liberal “in and out” policy, perfect for an intermission smoke, toke, or a trip to the venue’s commission free box-office (shove it ticketmaster!).

Just make sure that you don’t stray too far away from the venue’s vaudevillian façade, those golden lights glowing in the hazy San Francisco night. Great American is located in the heat of the colorful “Tenderloin,” which hosted a disturbing street fight that would claim my buzz as a casualty. Not so good Samaritans hooted and yelped “whoop that ass” to the cacophony of knuckles against flesh, skins to concrete. No sign of the law as the only men in uniform were diligently guarding paid parking lots and garages.

Before returning to my sweet ride — a 1975 VW bus, equipped with wet bar, duel sleeping units, shower curtain blinds of psychedelic geckos and iguanas, and a weed whacker of an engine touting an impossibly efficient 28 mpg — Steel Train exploded in a crowd drenching perspiration on “Black Eye,” a charged power pop number: “I, I, I, I am your tram tram tram tram-poline!”

Throughout the evening, the NJ band’s tightness shone though in an endearing banter and an energetically delivered set. Though those philistines from MTV’s “The Jersey Shore” command a bigger audience than these rockers, you can’t help but root for Steel Train.

I found out about them by accident one day when I went to the Santa Monica Public Library. There, I decided to take home their newsletter to check the activities; so I found one very interesting: a free concert with the folk duo Fur Dixon and Steve Werner. They are locals from Van Nuys. The concert happened on a cold, grey Saturday afternoon in the patio at the Library. Still working on their 2009 album, “Travelers”, the duo made quite an impact on the audience.

Mostly composed by notoriously older people, the crowd was made of friends, neighbors and a few good fans that followed them down the road. Besides myself, only one couple as young as I am was in the audience. Despite that, their music had something like a secret ingredient that kept me enjoying and appreciating the moment. Their interaction with the small audience doesn’t compare at all with the one from Caetano Veloso’s concert. It was the best part. They commented on the songs, made jokes about each other, and told stories about how some of the songs were born. In a scale from A+ to F-, definitely they would score A+!

Fur’s voice is unique with a tone that can be compared to of a dear friend. Her influences are June, Mother Maybelle Carter, Hazel Dickens and Johny Cash. On the other hand, Steve’s influences are Doc Watson, Norman Blake and Merle Travis. Also, he is more of a songwriter, writing from truck stops to the wide open road. That combination is what makes them very appealing to people from different generations.

I went with no expectations whatsoever, but had a nice surprise as I watched their concert. It was something that just took over me. Their songs made me feel lighter and in a better mood. I got into the groove of a good old American folk music. Yes, I surrendered myself to the genre. I’ve never thought that could be fun and amusing! Hopefully, I’ll catch them soon for another round of delightful music. Stay tuned!

Caetano Veloso. When you hear his name, for those who know him, automatically you associate it with one of the best and most popular musicians from Brazil. That’s how I know him, considering that he started his career way before I was born, back in the 60’s. When I read that he was coming to LA for a concert, I thought, “Wow, this is the kind of concert I can’t miss”. I knew it would be memorable, quite an experience. It certainly was, but not exactly in the way I had expected.

For that occasion, I invited my great Brazilian friend, Karima, and her husband, who doesn’t know a word in Portuguese. I mean, I practically had to convince her because the location of the concert was at the Greek Theatre, a place I hadn’t been before and neither had she. It has an open sky dome and, she was afraid of getting really cold. Luckily, the weather collaborated that day. It was a beautiful spring day with a gorgeous sunny, blue sky, not too hot, not too cold, just perfect.

As we made our way to the theater, we were very excited and were also explaining to Karima’s husband, Soren, who Caetano Veloso is and what he represents in Brazil’s music. Getting there was easy and fast. We found our seats as we waited anxiously for his concert to begin. It got chiller at night but we had enough warm clothes.

Soon, came the first song… which none of us knew, but sounded interesting from the rhythm side. The second song came and again, another one we didn’t know. Then, the third, the forth, and the fift song were pretty much, all the same. This scene repeated during his entire concert. Karima and I kept saying, “Perhaps the next one will be “Você É Linda” (You Are Beautiful)”, which didn’t happen at all.

Well, what I considered to be his major moment in the concert was that he sang four songs only followed by his guitar. That’s when I thought he was going to sing “Sozinho” (Alone), one of my favorite songs of all time. Instead, he made a cover of “Billie Jean” from Michael Jackson!!! Unbelievable! In the true sense of the word! Unbelievable because he didn’t sing the one I wanted to hear. Unbelievable because MJ’s cover was too slow for me and a few other people that I overheard talking about it.

Another thing that I felt missing was his interaction with the audience. It was minimum. Just a few words here and there, but nothing really catching. He sang mainly the songs of his new album “Zii e Zie”, released in 2009, which explains why I didn’t know most of it. His voice is still amazing, and the tone is beautiful. However, besides the interaction, I felt something else was missing in the concert. To me, he lacked enthusiasm in his performance. I mean, he danced and everything, but still there was something not quite right. To be honest, unless you were there, it’s difficult to put to words. Perhaps one of the reasons was like I said before, his little interaction with the crowd.

With all that said, I will change to the good things. There were some songs that I found very interesting from the beat and arrangements to the lyrics. They talked straight to my heart, making me feel warm and cozy like when someone gives you a bear hug. Even though I didn’t know these songs, it didn’t mean I didn’t know how to appreciate them. That’s also what Karima told me. She felt the same way. Caetano sang in English as well, which shows he recognizes that not everybody in his concert speaks his native Portuguese. I am sure Soren felt very grateful for that. It gave him a better sense of who Caetano is as a musician.

As time went by, we realized he wasn’t singing any of the songs we came to hear. Just like that, it came to an end. That’s when the audience shouted “Bis, bis”, making him came back and sing the only song I knew from that evening, “Tieta”. I have to admit, it was a nice surprise. After that, we left with astonished faces processing what had just happened. It certainly was quite an experience, very much different from what I had envisioned in my mind. That’s why it probably didn’t meet Karima’s and my expectations, but it fulfilled our emotions in a distinctive way.

I get lost thinking about the number of amazing artists that are out there that I would love to see. I mean I could spend my entire lifetime (and that of a few of my close friends) and still not scratch the surface. Out of all of them though, there are a handful that make it to the top of my list and I would drop anything to go see (apologies in advance to any friends who have birthdays on their LA tour dates). At the top of this list are Brazilian singers and groups, Aerosmith, John Mayer and Pink, among others.

Since I’m not attached to only one style, the variety is interesting. They are singers from different generations. I already knew all these “international” artists by listening to the radio. I have never thought that I would be able to see them live until I moved to the USA. The fact is that when they actually come to my home country to perform, it’s usually in Rio de Janeiro or Sao Paulo, the two major cities in Brazil and I live down south, in a city called Joinville (google it!).

First and foremost, there will be always room for Brazilian music in my heart. The melodies and the rhythms are incredible. The sounds are smooth; they make I feel like I’m floating in the air. At the top of my agenda is the concert with Caetano Veloso, a famous “Brazilian Popular Music” singer. I wasn’t born listening to him, but throughout the years I have become captivated by his words and his rhythm. My favorite song is “Sozinho” (“Alone”), one of his mega hits, because it’s only his voice and his guitar. Check it out at YouTube: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wb4RauhteFA.

Second, I’d say without a doubt is Aerosmith. They are one of the groups I grew up listening to. Last year when they almost broke up, I thought my hopes of seeing them were thrown in the trash. However, they’re back together according to what I read back in February. Yay! I think it’d be cool, no, more than cool, to have the chance to be a part of their concert and witness the moment with his craziest fans, in the middle of the field.

Third, John Mayer, who just had a concert about four weeks ago in LA, but I couldn’t make it. I didn’t feel well enough to go to. To me, he’s a dichotomy of my music passion. As a person, he’s always saying things that come to his mind, straight up, without giving any thought. I mean, he’s an asshole. As a musician, though, he’s just amazing. The lyrics, the melody, and everything else walk side-by-side. He’s definitely, one of my favorites of this new generation. His entire last album “Battle Studies” is over the top with compositions that speak from his heart, very personal. As so are a few songs such as “Gravity”, “Waiting on the World to Change”, and “Say What You Need to Say”. It’s songs like these that make a difference. The lyrics speak by itself.

Finally, Pink, not only because of her battle with pop music, but also because of the artist she has become throughout the years. A few years ago, I noticed her career moving towards the pop world like so many other singers. Take the song, “Get The Party Started”, from her second CD “Missundaztood”, it brought tears to my eyes. It was like watching a dear friend date an asshole, or John Mayer, I felt that girl I loved was lost. When she returned with her last two albums, Pink took back her career. She became the rock star she always was. Examples are the songs that she wrote like: “Who Knew”, and “Sober.” That made her more participative in the creation of her own music; from the lyrics to the post-production part. In my opinion, that’s a true musician.

All I can say is that I am happy to have already started accomplishing this mission. Yes, I call it a mission because it’s after I moved to the USA that these artists became a real possibility. The first one was Caetano Veloso, who will be featured in my next article. Right now, I’m looking forward to seeing them so that I keep checking their tour dates not to miss the opportunity again. As it starts to happen, you’ll be the first to know because I’ll be overjoyed to write about it and share the details of my experiences!