Listening for All the Right Reasons

You don't see a good friend for a few weeks and when you finally do your time is limited by prior committments, so all the Counoise and Malbec in the restaurant can't help you catch up on each other's lives any faster than you do. But we tried diligently, we really did.

The starting point was Six Burner (at her request but always a good choice for me) and while I was the sole customer at 6:00, within the hour, the place was bustling. By the time my friend arrived, I'd already regaled Josh with the details of last night's supreme soul show, knowing that as a musician he'd want to hear about such talent and showmanship and he did. His biggest regret was that I hadn't forewarned him since he'd been off by 9:30 and could have made it over. I keep forgetting that that's my job around here: tell people what to do.

My friend started by asking if I had the minutes of our last get-together and, sadly, I did not. Once we got rolling on the value of blog posts with depth, there was no stopping the words, though. Theater was next with a discussion of the hardest part of being an actor not being the actual acting, but the onstage listening and reacting (can you say Brandon Crowder?). Having just seen Tommy too, we compared notes.

She's recently started working out with a personal trainer who's been treating her respectfully and politely. much to her disgust. Tired of that nonsense, when he told her today to do another set of crunches after two previous sets, she responded, "Fuck you!" in an effort to loosen him up. After that, he seemed to finally get a feel for who she really is and how best to handle her; a well-placed expletive can do that for a woman.

Josh reappeared with an amuse bouche and we tucked into eel with roasted ramp in a mushroom sauce and what a delicious thing that was. We then ordered the salumi plate of cured meats and the risotto balls with mozzarella (that superb crust and creamy interior, what a beautiful contrast that was) to have some sustenance while we delved into heavier things.

She reads the blog so, as she pointed out, she knew the general framework of what had been happening, but wanted the full-on versions with the details I don't share publicly. It had been so long that entire chapters had closed, new intrigue had occurred and fresh fodder for discussion developed. Josh kept our glasses refilled and we talked right up until we went our separate ways on the sidewalk out front.

I had to get going because I was not willing to be late for the Listening Room; music starts promptly at 8 and I like to have a few minutes to socialize before zipping it for the sake of music.

The program began with the soft-voiced Lydia Ooghe, playing with Trey Pollard and Wells Hanley. "This is a song about wanting to go out and drink by myself," she informed the audience. Then turning to her musicians, she asked, "Do you guys know what song that is? It 's actually all of them." Favorite lyric: "I don't really care if you're a good boy/you're the only one for me."

Worth noting is that Trey was not playing his usual guitar, but instead the pedal steel, an instrument whose sound I love but don't really understand. I corrected that tonight by going up to him after the performance and asking my dumb non-musician questions. Unlike the guitar, which he's played since childhood, the pedal steel is fairly new to him. "It takes every ounce of concentration I have to play this thing," he told me, saying it was well worth it. Ah, but the sound is so wonderful we both agreed.

Nick Coward played next and up until tonight, I'd only seen him with his band, the Last Battle. He played a song from his upcoming EP and mentioned that it had horns, but that he was going to sing the horns, which he did beautifully; he also covered the Arcade Fire's Ocean of Noise. Best lyric: "Blaming the past/for what the future lacks/in this backward waltz."

Last up was Moruza (it means mish-mash and was the leader's middle name), a quintet of three women and two guys (keys, fiddle, bass, drums, singer). Saying she was nervous and babbling, a song was introduced with, "This is a song about liars...which is almost everybody." She paused to let the audience react. "No, she didn't," she said smiling at her pronouncement.

The band had beautiful harmonies with two and sometimes three female voices and claimed that usually they were the quietest band, although that was not the case at the Listening Room. Favorite lyric: "And you loved me/just the way I'd hoped you could/And you followed me/just the way I'd hoped you would." That's from a song entitled Richmond, written, they said, because the band is from here, lives here and loves it here.

I can relate. While I'm not from here, evenings like tonight are exactly why I live here and love it here. Some people would call it a big, stupid city, but I feel lucky enough to think I'll find someone amazing here.

And in the meantime, I have nights like this.