Last week I found out that the new bar in Astoria was going to have a birthday party for Bob Marley. I've always loved Bob Marley, and during my time in Morocco, he kept me company on lonely scorching hot nights in the desert. His songs, telling me "everything was gonna be alright", helped me get me through the tough days.
I had been looking forward to Friday all week. My good friend Candyce was in town and after I told her how awesome this concert was going to be, she decided to stay over and go with me. Well, much to my surprise, the concert wasn't exactly what I was expecting.
Maybe my expectations were a little too high. I mean, I've seen numerous Bob Marley posers who have done a pretty good job at channeling the rasta spirit, complete with dreadlocks and hemp clothing. Even in a tiny little bar in Thailand I thought the real Bob Marley was singing right in front of me.
So when the band started up last night and the lead came on stage, I was pretty much in shock. There standing was an old man, wearing a Hawaiian shirt, fedora and about 80 extra pounds than normal...not to mention he was white. He went by the name of "Ma Barley." The songs were reggae-esque but nothing like I expected. All I could do was turn to Candyce and say, "I am so sorry."
Even though the music wasn't that great, it was still a fun night and something I will always remember. I felt a little better when the band closed the night off with "No Woman No Cry."
I took a couple pictures with my phone so sorry if they are a little blurry.
Moral of the story... Astoria is not the place to find the rastafarian king.
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