Major Tom to Ground Control...

You might have asked yourself what prompted this breach of radio silence? You may be scratching your head (with ponderous fervor no doubt) what single event (in the staggering array of maddening inanities that is my life) has moved me to text? You may still ask yourself why should I even care?

That question, ladies and germs, can be answered in three measly syllables: "BĀ-lɘ Flek".

When the world's foremost 5-string banjo player journeys to Africa on a mission to explore the roots of his instrument you (quite naturally) stand up and take notice. When the world's foremost 5-string banjo player journeys to Africa on a mission to explore the roots of his instrument but decides to take a top-shelf sound engineer and film crew with him you (quite naturally) properly freak out and run around the room. Noble readership please tie your shoes and safely stow your personal electronic tomfoolery in the overhead compartment.


I implore you to rush out and secure yourself two tickets to the very next showing of this documentary film --one for you and one for the person who you would like (based on the no-doubt cathartic experience of this magical piece) to be permanently indebted to you. Promptly proceed to the theater, sink down into one of those 'oh too comfy' chairs, and bathe in 97 minutes of sheer musical bliss. Lather, rinse, and repeat.



***Note: If you find yourself in a culturally destitute area lacking a local theater to view this nugget of musical paradise at.... relax. All is not lost --though I might consider moving. You can always purchase the album --I bought it right after the film and have listened to it exactly 2.42 times today.