Crash crash crash went the stockbroker belt while we were asleep in the air at 20,000 ft, missed the day and woke up in dry arid Californian cities and a date at the Great American Music Hall. Nope, it doesn't and yes, we can. Avoiding the way home, drifting on a leg swatch, a big bag of complimentary bud and a ticket to stay put for a bit, with just enough time to lay down the interest rates. 10 or maybe 11 or 12 snazzy intrepidations stretching through a few stylistic gambits. This whole slew gets you moving and grooving when taken in by Mary J with some mandatory sideways slides through the invigilation portals. Which way now?