Andy J. Forest
December 08, 2004
BY JASON SONGE
Second sets are better. Everyone is a little bit drunker, the girls come out to dance, and the band's main purpose is to be a guide through the most sparse hours of the day. Vocalist/harpist/washboard dude Andy J. Forest and his band kicked out the Cajun and Blues grooves until 2 a.m. last night at d.b.a.
Baby mama wanted to jump up and scream and stomp until all of her blood red darkness danced out of her. It was aural overload. The blood rushed to my head, and I wanted to release with the end of the rise, but it continued, and my face got red until I breathed out of a beautiful asphyxiation. Keep on that, Jack. Keep rollin' on that keyboard solo. It's so tight, and we've got nowhere to go.
Marc Adams was makin' love to the keyboard. No big deal to him. He cruised. How lucky am I to be in a city when I can't quite decide who plays harmonica best? I gotta put Forest in that group now. He made his harp sound like a screeching guitar. Forest worked that thing and tore out notes.
At one point guitarist Sergio Cocchi turned out a pleasant, restrained solo while Forest blurred and convulsed up and down vibrating soul across his washboard.
You got that beat, they got that beat, the drummer with sunglasses is holding it all down. You wanna question him? His second line waltz turned around his different mixes of snare, hi-hat and kick drum. He showed us what he could do.
Forest play the real stuff. What they crave and don't have in Italy. Forest had roots to the soul.