Oo-oo ah-ah! 🎹🎻🥢
Guess what I found the other night crashing a party at the manager's house at the Shamrock ranch? Three old friends makin’ music like monkeys pickin’ fleas—only fancier.

There’s David Qu bangin’ the piano like it owed him bananas, Shawn Moore sawin’ away at the violin like he was tryin’ to cut open a coconut, and then—ka-pow!—Dr. K swings in with his sneaky little 3-4-5-6 melody. (That’s his magic monkey chant. Careful—play it three times and the rice cooker explodes.)

And ohhh, the theme? Bad rice. Yep. Rice gone rogue. Funky rice that don’t sit right in the belly. Dr. K made a Mandarin pun—
mi-fa-sol-la = “米发馊啦，都拉稀啦”… which sounds like: “rice got funky, everyone got the poops, laaa.”
That’s what I call gastro-jazz! 💩🎶

Meanwhile, Myron Cohen turned into King Kong in the kitchen – looking through pots and pans and ladles and things in an attempt to assemble some sort of a drum kit. Being the drummer, his timing was impeccable, as he finally got the whole thing together and ready to play with the trio wrapped up their musical poop joke. But it's nice to see the frying-pan transforming into a hi-hat.)

I tell ya, between the piano groans, the violin cries and Dr. K’s sad-poop pun, there was a joker giggling between every note. You don’t see him, but oh, you feel him—tickling your ribs while your stomach remembers the bad rice.

See for yourself, my little jungle tribe 👉 Watch the jam on YouTube

Music, monkeys, and moldy rice: sometimes life stinks, but the rhythm still slaps.

—Marcel Du Chimp 🐒🍌🎶