So I'm in a van, somewhere in Wisconsin, heading towards the next hotel's sweet relief, with Shabazz Palaces and trusty driver Tay Sean (of Cloud Nice/Helladope). Thanks to a quite overtalkative and extra-pokey codger named Dave, we just had a too-long stop at the Tomah Wal-Mart auto service center to replace a tail light (we didn't have the tools and didn't want to buy a big set), because it went out (second day with this van!), and well, we needed it fixed ASAP (WE'RE ALL BROWN, IN A GOLD VAN, IN THE MIDWEST); however, now we have a cord to plug our mobile devices into the stereo with. This round was on me, so I turned Tay onto the impossibly funky delights of Can's 1972 classico Ege Bamyasi, which I know my man Dave Segal would be pleased to know.

The above track resonates with our convo about raw foods, gardening, and the natural benefits of fruit. (Can you really shine your shoes with a banana peel?) Also, it goes well with the constant wet smack of insect guts currently making a whole new road map on the windshield. (Roadkill count so far: 1 small, cuddly-looking bear, a handful of stiff deer, 1 squirrel, one unidentifiable stretch of guts and fur.)

After "Spoon" ends, i throw on a personal favorite, Eddie Hazel's Games, Dames and Guitar Thangs. Even Ish asks me who it is, which means win. The P-funky axman's shredding is impressive to the driver, as it should be to anybody. There are remarks of echoes of Jimi, and I'd have to agree. I'm still mad I didn't buy a t-shirt off of eBay a few years back, featuring a quality screenprint of this album's awesome cover; damn, I'll probably never find that shit again.

Tendai has been asleep with his headphones on, for the record. And now, the Sheraton looms. Time to wash these nuts. Till next time.