No: This will not be about the riotous 1990 film of the same name, starring two young hip-hop stars named Kid and Play. This was a “house party” of the kind where musicians play for a small group of invited guests in a sponsoring person or couple’s home. When my youngest daughter picked up my newest grandchild, I reminded her that I was going to attend a house party that night; Lauren envisioned shenanigans with scalawags, and told Myah that Cool Papa was going to get his freak on. I told Myah that my freak would definitely be in the off position that night, but her mother still gave me the lifted eyebrow.
Charles Miller sent me an invitation on a social media site to attend the house party that he and Daric Kindle were sponsoring. I met Charles at a Warren Township Democratic Club meeting, and he introduced me to Daric at the 2018 Irvington Halloween Festival. A gathering of friends at the Kindle-Miller residence may have been the intent of the evening, but the invitation’s added spice was the music of local artists Andra Faye and Scott Ballantine, who would open for the headliner, Suzie Vinnick, “a Canadian Blues Artist of the Year.” (When I read the invitation’s description of Faye’s musical delivery as “strong sultry vocals & multi-instrumental skills,” I was impressed with the Kindle-Miller writing chops, and then I read the same line on Faye and Ballantine’s website, and I thought, “hmmm.”)
The day was relatively warm, and the evening was tepid when I arrived with my growler of Ash & Elm cider, but without the chair that everyone else gathered in a respectful circle before the open garage had remembered to bring. I was delighted to see the Creative Director of this publication — lawn chair bagged and slung over her shoulder — toddling up the driveway. Paula Nicewanger introduced me to Kyla Thompson, who was chaired in front of us. I walked around a bit, sampled the Mango Peach cider that Daric told me had been brewed by Charles, and a bearded man walked up to me, saying he had seen me around. He was Donn Smith, and I told him that I remembered seeing his band, “Acoustic Alchemy,” play at the South Circle last year. Donn was handling the audio for the event.
The guests mingled and mixed and sampled the offerings of food and beverage and Andra and Scott played and sang, and I met and chatted with Phil Slates, the booking and stage manager for the Indy Folk Series. After Andra and Scott finished their opening set (I laughed my butt off at one song about an excess of butt and a dearth of blue jeans), Suzie Vinnick played her set. Vinnick cited her “traveling companion” (who was not nine years-old) as “the Canadian James Dean,” and when James and I spoke he told me that, like his namesake, he had been in a car accident. “I survived,” James said to me, smiling. (Rimshot, James.) He is a professional photographer, so we spoke of cameras and shooting, as well as music.
The hot music could not dispel the growing briskness of the night, and as my fingers grew numb, my notebook was banished; the memories were thence, written on the tenuous fabric of my mind (which may or may not, have windmills). When the evening ended, the music was still thrumming in my veins as I fired up my hooptie and traveled toward home. The next morning, when my granddaughter arrived, I assured her that without shenanigans, a good time was had by all.