Music

Cary

Yes, it soothes the savage beast.  That’s at least what my 7^th grade math teacher and J.V. basketball coach Steve Dashiell told me when he allowed me to listen to my Walkman (remember those?!) in class.  I was what therapists call “loquacious” in my early teen years, and I certainly had a problem sitting still though pre-algebra and whatever the hell else you learn in junior high school.  Thus, Mr. Dashiell let me listen to music while we did our assignments so that I wouldn’t chat with friends and hopefully learn how to add correctly in perfect silence.

Remember these?

It would be kind of lame to wax poetic here about what bands influence me, or what kind of music I like to listen to at home or in the car.  My iPod playlist is irrelevant, nor even that unique or cool.

But one thing I dig about Chaise Lounge is the music we listen to in the kitchen.  The stereo is open game, and you can get a good feel for your squad when you see what kind of tunes they crank during prep.

Ulyses likes pop music.  He is a 30-something year old, hard-working, veteran line cook who is the only holdover from the previous administration.  And man does he like Lady Gaga.  Black Eyed Peas the same.  But he really gets the place rocking when he dials up the hybrid American pop/Latin rap station.  I don’t know what it is off the top of my head, but cruise into Chaise Lounge between Thursday and Sunday and there’s a good chance you’ll get to experience this phenomenon.

Kristin and I are pretty much on the same page.  Classic rock reigns supreme on her iPod Touch, and AC/DC flows right into Sabbath with a heavy dose of Led Zeppelin.  But I really dig her entire Beatles collection, and it makes for a great wake-up call on Sunday mornings while assembling the Bloody Mary cart or dusting portions of buttermilk brined chicken in flour before the brunch rush.

David and Steven are kindred spirits, musically at least.  They have both spent time as deejays and have a deep repertoire of collecting tunes from some relatively unknown gems like The Pimps of Joytime (the chef’s favorite new soundtrack to life) to classic Mos Def/Common type tracks.  They are all about the beat – the rhythm and flow – and it is pretty refreshing to get outside my daily classic rock routine.

Jorge, who we miss greatly as he is out with a back injury sustained in a car accident, is the king of frat rock.  He cherishes the entire O.A.R. catalog as well as Dave Matthews Band.  We aren’t afraid to tell people that we like Jason Mraz’s music, even though that’s a secret best kept for Tuesday’s when it is just Steven and the two of us on the line on a slow Tuesday night!  His playlist takes me back to a simpler time, when the hardest part of the day was making it to class. I appreciate that.

Even my former cooks brought so much to the table.  Two were punk-o-philes, if that’s even a word.  I must thank them for enlightening me on the subtleties of Glen Danzig’s career.  I had a raging metal head, who couldn’t channel his anger through the music.  That got weird.  But he introduced me to “Paranoid” by Black Sabbath, and I can’t figure out how that album escaped me for the first 28 years of life.  And our former salad spinner was quite the Young Jeezy and Mary J. Blige aficionado.

You can tell a lot about people by what they listen to.  That’s kind of stating the obvious, I know.

But regardless of who owns the airwaves at 1840 W. North Avenue, the fact that we have music playing at all times provides a more relaxed atmosphere and quite the conversation piece.

We would listen to music at Blackbird during prep time downstairs and I learned a lot about music there too.  From Bowie to bluegrass, we covered a lot of ground of there.  But baseball season took precedence in chef Kahan’s abode, and nothing says summer at Blackbird like the sound of Ron Santo over the airwaves while cleaning a case of rainbow chard.

It’s just another reason I think I was sucked in to this business.  No ties, no fighting with the crowds on public transportation (the bus is all yours at 11 a.m.), no cubicles.  Just good food and loud music.  And the occasional Santo rant.