Mrs. Wife and I had a proper night out last Saturday. We saw Daptone recording artists Sharon Jones and the Dap-Kings. Ever hear of ’em? Fantastic. They’re funk/soul/rhythm and blues masters. The Dap-Kings are the band you hear backing Amy Winehouse on her stunning Back to Black album. We saw them, appropriately enough, at the beautifully refurbished Count Basie Theater.

It’s a big show with a dozen people on stage. It’s an old-style R&B review with a Master of Ceremonies, opening acts and members of the band given solo turns. But Sharon Jones is the real master. It’s been a long, long time since I’ve seen someone work a crowd the way she did. She told a great story about how she honed her skills in a wedding band. The band was a bunch of Italians and initially there was some push-back when the leader wanted to hire her. He told his band mates, “I can hire a white girl, but none of them can sing like SHE can.” That settled that.

If they come within shouting distance of your town, do yourself (and your soul) a huge favor and go see them. I guarantee you an unforgettable night. Here’s their tour schedule. Lucky Clevelanders can see them this Saturday night at the Beachland Ballroom. I have half a mind to drive out there and take in the show. And I’m not kidding. Here they are on a segment from Later with Jools Holland. By all means, turn it up, baby.

Last spring I assured The Daughters that they’d never see another winter like the one we just had. It was indescribably brutal. Mother Nature has, of course, made a complete liar out of me. Once again, we are being hammered with storm after storm. Today and tomorrow is a hellish mix of rain, sleet, freezing rain and snow. I feel the punishment but I can’t connect the sin.

The New York Times always finds interesting and elegant ways to describe the storm du jour. This last winter blast was described as “…a giant white smudge over the Northeast on radar maps.” Sheer poetry!

Here are some pics. These were taken in Soho where my offices are. I was particularly struck by the contrast of the white branches against the red brick.

Am I the only one who’s amazed that I can buy a banana—a tropical fruit—in the middle of Manhattan the day after a major blizzard? Ponder that for a moment. From a historical standpoint, it wasn’t that long ago that such a thing was unthinkable. The world has shrunk and we’re all better off for it, if you ask me.

Poor bicycle. Dead and buried. See you in June.