It's me, It's mine, It's new...

Start your evening off with a game or two, then relax with an evening of spoken word, live music and great company... Come on out.

Don't blog much, I will more...

I say that I am blessed to have witnessed the magic of two fine talents who's rhythm has inspired me as well as taught me something about truth of self...

Bernie Mac and Isaac Hayes thank you for being stars in our universe...

THE MUSIC MAN
Barry Hampton, Big Yeah and the "bluesy love thing."

Barry HamptonBarry Hampton isn't like other musicians. When he's making music, Hampton doesn't hide behind a fa--ade of cool indifference like he would rather be doing anything but performing. No, when Barry Hampton makes music, he usually has a huge grin on his face that lets you know this guy is having a great time, in a place where no one can touch him.

"It's nice to be in that space," he says, "where you don't have any drama, and no one is talking shit, and all there is is the music."

Hampton, 33, is the Portland equivalent to James Brown--the hardest-working man in show business. He sings and plays guitar, bass, drums, keyboards, saxophone and harmonica, and "if they made sitars for left-handed people, I'd play that too," says Hampton with a laugh.

Nearly five years ago, he moved here from Baltimore to be closer to his children, and in that time he's become a recognizable face in the local music scene. He plays percussion for Jackie-O Motherfucker. He selects cuts from his 2,700-plus record collection when he DJs at Shanghai Tunnel on Wednesdays. And he can be frequently spotted at Dante's, where he spins discs between Black Angel sets and occasionally joins the soul band as a guest vocalist.

All of those other projects, however, take a back seat to Hampton's true passion: his band Big Yeah. Originally formed back in Baltimore as a three-man rock band in 1995, Big Yeah has gone through many changes over the years. Depending on the mood of the band--which includes Hampton on vocals and bass, Jef Brown on guitar, Kevin Erney on drums and Heidi Soll on keyboards--the sound of Big Yeah can lean toward rock or switch mid-set to a soulful R&B vibe.

But as the band continues to play more live shows, such as its regular first-Thursday residency at Bar XV, it' s beginning to find its own place in the Portland music scene.

"We've come to grips that we're not a rock band or a Black Angel-style band," says Hampton. He takes time to choose his next words carefully, hesitating slightly before continuing, "We're a lounge band. When you come to see Big Yeah, you don't really come to dance--you come to chill. Someone once told me that they like to have sex afterwards. That's about the best reaction we can get." David Walker

Now Hampton—a showman who works the room at gigs, mingling with audiences and displaying a confidence that could be mistaken for cockiness—has decided to do what he loves best, shelling out the Triple Grip's "indie soul" on his own terms. "I decided I'm not gonna be in any band that's not my group anymore. I've been making other people look really good for a really long time," he says. "I'm giving myself that power after 20-plus years of being 'that dude.'"

In doing so, Hampton and the Triple Grip are also giving the city something it sorely needs—an ambitious jolt of soul that just might get bodies moving.

Over the years I've interacted Barry Hampton in various musical situations, he consistently brings his shining spirit and musical prowess to whatever music he is presently performing. What he adds to every performance is a trained, impeccable voice that never disappoints. Whether singing gospel, funk, his original composition or a soul classic he lends his voice and musical talents as an accomplished vocalist and musician. Barry Hampton will lay down the rhythm on bass while oftentimes delivering a killer lead vocal to a song. Not an easy thing to do!

As if not impressive enough that he combines those two abilities skillfully, Barry Hampton is also a great guitarist. This is a "talent deserving wider recognition" who will break through the glass ceiling of Portland's music scene and become a national recording artist soon enough.