Support the Delusion

You'd think that I'd run in the opposite direction from a screening of a film called "The Store."

I do, after all, hate to shop and avoid it like the plague, excepting grocery and wine shopping.

But as part of the Brian Ulrich show at the Anderson Gallery, "Coppia," they're doing a four-week film series and tonight's was "The Store."

It was a 1983 documentary about Neiman Marcus' flagship store in Dallas, done without narration or point of view.

Just the facts, folks. Heaven to us documentary dorks.

Let's just say the comedic value was almost as high as the cultural snapshot of life in the early '80s.

For those who may not remember, those were both the "Dynasty" and Reagan years, two tragic and concurrent periods in our country's cultural decline.

A man comes in to buy a fur for his honey and compares wild sable and farm-raised sable jackets, with the salesman telling him, "Sable is a great Texas coat."

He's leaning toward the $45,000 wild caught one (more silver hairs).

In another scene, a woman tries on $25,000 rings while her blase husband looks on.

Over in the cosmetic department, a male associate does a makeover on a woman.

At a staff meeting to discuss N-M's new "international market," the store manager explains that they can't just stack salamis seven-deep.

"We can't sell butter cream cakes with blue roses next to kiwi tarts," he explains, meaning there will be no butter cream cakes at Neiman-Marcus.

But it wasn't retail that interested me, it was the times.

The time when all the women wore power suits with shoulder pads and blouses that tied in bows at the neck.

The time when half the staff smoked during sales meetings.

For that matter, customers smoked in the store, like the hacking old biddy who's ordering china from an accommodating salesman.

The time when stores had in-house seamstresses, telephone operators answering the switchboard  and in-store jewelers.

I know it sounds like I'm describing mid-century America, but it was really just thirty years ago.

The security manager talks losses, theft and how the store had "four shoplifters this month."

Four? Four?

For a minute, the '80s seemed like the Eisenhower years.

Probably the coolest shots were at the founders' 75th anniversary celebration for the store.

Getting out of a limo was none other than Lady Bird Johnson.  Columnist Art Buchwald spoke at the event.

Seeing both of them was like seeing a newsreel but from long past the days of newsreels.

Other than them, though, it seemed to focus on a lot of nouveau riche Texas types who, as my grandmother used to say, had more money than sense.

I, on the other hand, have way more sense than scratch.

So, naturally, a free show appeals to me.

Like tonight's at Balliceaux with Izzy and the Catastrophics, part of a two-week tour to Florida that just began for the group.

We are just off I-95 South, after all.

The quartet of guitar, upright bass, drums  and sax began by saying that no two set lists were ever the same because each member of the band gets to pick the next song in turn.

The small crowd was enthusiastic about this fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants plan.

Front man Izzy was a force of nature on guitar, singing and theatrics.

We heard "Shiek of Araby" with its repeating chorus of, "Ain't got no pants," and that took us from Dixieland to surf guitar for the next song.

It appeared that Izzy was going to take us on an interesting ride tonight.

But not before explaining that the drummer and bass player were new to the group.

So new that this was their first gig with him.

When someone picked "Freeborn Man" for the next song, Izzy held up a finger to us.

"Let me explain to the drummer how this one goes and I'll be right back with you."

He and Steve had a tete a tete, he was back and the song was some solid testifying.

They followed that with Izzy saying, "I was feeling really bitter about a relationship when I wrote this song. It's about a bad breakup."

And, yes, "Mambo on Your Grave" had some bitter lyrics but the mambo beat underneath kept it lively.

"Beggin' for Megan" came about when Izzy was in New Orleans and talking with his then-band about girls.

"Everyone in the band had been involved with a Meagan there," he shared. "Whether or not they were all the same Meagan is still controversial."

And just for the record, more than one current member ended up on the stage begging.

The good news was it also got one couple dancing frenetically.

Emiliano, the sax player, chose "Had Some Loving" for his next pick, because that's the kind of song Italians choose.

Between songs, Izzy announced, "This might be a good time t to mention that we don't have a place to stay tonight."

"Yes, you do!" said a genial guy in the front row.

"Do you have beer?" Izzy asked of his generous host. He did.

Addressing the rest of us, Izzy checked his options first. "Anyone else have panthers or hot tubs?

We looked on blankly.

"No? Okay, we're staying with you."

And a bro-sleepover is born.

No judging here.

Then Izzy was back to business, asking the bass player what he wanted to play.

Instead of answering, the bass player, Jeff,  began playing.

Three notes in, Izzy said, "Oh, that's a good one," and the band kicked into, "Ciao, Bella."

I should probably mention here that Izzy is quite theatrical, so hand gestures, posturing and stage movements were part of the price of admission, not that there was one.

After hearing about a burlesque dancer from home (Brooklyn), Dirty Martini, we were treated to a song, "Dirty Martini in a String Bikini." about her.

The bump and grind that accompanied that song had to be seen to be fully appreciated.

That said, they did a snappy version of "Honeysuckle Rose," with Izzy saying, "I only like songs I wrote or songs written by people I idolize. And I idolize Fats Waller."

Hence the honeysuckle.

There was a Hank Williams song ("My Bucket's Got a Hole in It") that was played while Emiliano traded his sax for a guitar case to collect ducats for their "Taco Bell fund" which they claimed was running dangerously low.

"Support the delusion!" Izzy exhorted. I did.

I was just glad I'd seen them having a wholesome Balliceaux meal before performing or I'd be worried sick.

For "I'm Gonna Knock You Out with My Love," one of Izzy's songs, there may have even been a hint of (was it?) yodeling.

Soon came an instrumental, introduced as such, with Izzy saying, "We haven't had time to practice it and this is their first gig. I wanna see what happens with it."

For their last song, the Italian sax player, Emiliano, chose Charlie Parker's "Ornithology" to close the performance.

Bebop was definitely the way to go out, as evidenced by the couple dancing madly throughout- sometimes terrifyingly fast, sometimes just side to side rhythmically, but never able to stop moving.

I wouldn't be surprised if the same kind of thing doesn't go down at that bro p.j. party.