The Musical Cab
(Chistmas) lights, camera (types) and (some live musical) action: Zafod’s Park City Taxi
As an on-again off-again Park City dweller, I’ve presumed that all the real people of this valley and beyond boycott the Sundance film Festival – for being too “Hollywood,” and too much of a hassle. Imagine my surprise to hear that a dear friend had purchased 20 tickets, for himself – he, a mover and shaker in the tantrum against mainstream, never mind Main Street. Then another equally eccentric and happily rebellious friend called to invite my boyfriend to play piano – in his Park City taxi cab.
Sculptor/cabdriver Zafod Beatlebrox set me straight. “This town is crawling with funky people. This is something big. Don’t ignore it just because it’s in your own backyard!”
So on the night my pianist friend Schroeder was the traveling musical attraction, I headed into the Currier & Ives-meets-Airport ’75 scene that is Park City in January, and tracked down Zafod’s cab.
Christmas lights ringed the interior of the van. The effect was warm and friendly, and festive. Sitting on an amp between the two front seats, facing a lone actor, was Schroeder hunched over his keyboard in a self-induced and self-sustained trance. Zafod drove his cab as easily and as unselfconsciously (and with as much enthusiasm) as a fan sitting in front of the TV watching the Super Bowl.
Being inside the cab was like being in the Twilight Zone. We rode for hours, picking up singles and groups going to parties at condos, hotel rooms or rented homes. All seemed willing to succumb to a tour of other dimensions. At times the van was so packed, people had to sit or lie across each other’s laps. There was no simple ‘point A to point B’ ride. Our tour distorted both time and space and twisted Park City around on itself; or was this just carsick delirium?
There’s no such thing as an innocent rider in the Musical Cab. Even if you resist taking up percussion, even if you refused to sing along with your friends, upon entering this cab you have entered a stage. Sometimes the show is dramatic, like the time in LA actor and a producer from Boston shared a ride.
The producer, having listened to outdated fashion advice, wore a full length fur, while the actor repeatedly, and characteristically, berated her with voiced regrets of not having a bucket of red paint handy. The fashion of the festival seems (to my untrained eye) to have changed little over the past 10 years, obviously the most important exception being the “No Fur!” trend, unfortunately for the beautiful producer from Boston. She had long, wavy, platinum hair, a sweet face, and was the epitome of the Hollywood archetype. She also had the humor and grace to rattle and drum along with the didjerido, withstanding the backseat assault.
Aside from her, everybody seemed appropriately garbed in what I conclude to be high festival fashion: tight black leather, with the proper mien of drunkenness or druggedness.
Facing backwards in the careening carousel, I considered whether motion sickness may be what happens when elements of the motion picture industry convene in thin air.
The cab is ripe with potential: People thrown together, and on top of each other, primed to be impressed and impressive. Intimate introductions. Perhaps, even, spacious beginnings. As far as I could tell, the reactions of all the participants were positive. Some people crawled right into the cab with delight, even expectation. Some had requested the cab, and stood outside waiting and shivering as other cabs were sent off. These riders had been in the Musical Cab the previous year and, delighted, exclaimed, “This was one of my favorite experiences of the whole festival!” I even heard, “This is the best part of the festival.” The unsuspecting riders were also fun to watch. They climbed aboard cautiously, searching for clues as to the nature of this game and the risks involved.
Zafod had started this service about two years ago. He had picked up a succession of pretty cool people one night and, in a while, they had formed some kind of musical experience among themselves. This gave his son the idea to suggest having a regular horn section in the backseat, and that was the start. From then on, for a number of weeks each winter, starting during the festival, Zafod collects his live performers. Usually the cab features a different musician each night.
Zafod says he is not interested in starting a fleet of Musical Cabs, that one is enough for him. So I suggest you hail this one while you can. His hours of live music are generally 8 PM until 2 AM; the first night I rode Schroeder played from 6 PM until 4 AM. This year’s tentative line-up of musicians include Rich Wyman, John Flanders with Brian Allison, Jed Matthews (of The Donner Party), Doug Wintch, Andy Monaco, Dave Shipley, Dustin Sturges and more. (He needs to find some female solo acts, too). Karaoke is also available onboard, for those nights when no live action is scheduled.
Talk about something in one’s own backyard that shouldn’t be missed! Sure, you can try to take the Musical Cab from point A to point B but the most important service offered here is the opportunity to be intimate in a bizarre setting with starry eyed filmmakers and actors… and regular people too, whatever that means— because once you’re in the cab, “you’re in,” and everyone is equally interesting, equally impressive. The bout of nausea is definitely worth it.
Request the MUSICAL CAB experience by calling 649 – TAXI in Park City. Then, be in your black skinny and be ready to ask or answer, “What’s your film?”
Catalyst Magazine
Catalyst Magazine
January 2000 p26
Culture