Pounds his sneaks on the wet concrete

Even though rain sprinkled the city, I walked east on 23^rd Street to the 1 Train station instead of taking the M23 bus. Tonight there was something different in the air. The rain kicked up that Manhattan smell that I hadn’t experienced in a while. Besides, the pungent outdoor aroma seemed like a much better option than the varieties of mustiness probably trapped in the damp bus.

I don’t own an iPod. So my eastbound walking pace triggered the guitar intro to Van Halen’s “Ain’t Talkin’ Bout Love,” which launched into the full song in my head. Now here I could try to look hip and say that it was a funky hip-hop mash up. But sorry, it was the plain ole grimy original. It’s not even one of my favorite songs, but it still became the musical score to the journey.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fBtE45blBKk]

One of the greatest things about a rainy night in New York City is that you can sing the song in your head out loud, and no one looks at you funny. But I guess that’s any time in New York City.

“You know you’re semi good looking. And on the streets again. You know you think you’re really cooking baby. You better find yourself a friend, my friend.”

So at the beginning of my walk, I looked to the left on Lexington. Irving Plaza sits several blocks south where the street turns into Irving Place. In 2000, I saw Cheap Trick there with a coworker, who was also the president of the New York branch of the band’s fan club. I caught performances of Fishbone and Digable Planets at the same venue.

“If you want it got to bleed for it baby. Yeah got to got to bleed, baby.”

More musical memories came along as I approached the Flatiron District. I spent many late nights back in 1997 with the other four members of Bassx recording our brand of progressive hip-hop at Soundtrack’s Studio G and J. Busta Rhymes—recording in the studio next door—came in and complimented us one night on a rough mix of one of our tracks after giving us all pounds.

Cool. Still walking, reminiscing and singing. Nobody’s looking.

“Hey! Hey! Hey! Bomp, bomp, babomb. Hey! Hey! Hey!”