Hot Music, Sweaty Musicians

"Hi everybody. I'm Dean Lee and this is the noise I make."

That brilliant line was the kickoff of the eighth installment of the Listening Room, which followed a bottle of excellent half-priced Alma Negra Malbec/Bonarda and pie at Sette with a good friend.

Unfortunately for her, she couldn't make the show.

When Dean made his pronouncement at the start, the crowd was actually sparser than usual, but by the middle of his set, the crowd had almost doubled, more chairs were being put out and things were warming up nicely with the warm bodies of assorted music lovers.

It was just Dean, his guitar and harmonica (he apologized for a couple of missing reeds) and a collection of interesting songs with offbeat lyrics.

Dean's songs had a way of ending surprisingly, even for him, which added a certain charm to his performance.

Favorite lyric:"Went to the show and they didn't play my song."

I know that feeling, Dean.

When his set was over, he ran off the "stage" with his arms overhead in a victory stance, as if to celebrate being finished.

Actually the audience was sorry to see him go.

Before the Orioles (Nick Woods and Matt Wirt) could play, a string of lights fell from the ceiling, as happens every month, causing MC Chris to say, "Now it's a real Listening Room show."

Then the audience was treated to two voices with two guitars and Matt's guitar had a thickness, a richness that made it pure pleasure to listen to.

When I asked him why it sounded so amazing, he downplayed it, saying it was just a pawnshop guitar.

"Maybe it's the person playing it?" he suggested. Maybe it was.

Nick said they'd been together for three years and, "we didn't conquer the world but we did make our first $5 CDs."

The lyrics were at times laugh out loud funny ("I wanted the bridge to sound like Nirvana Unplugged") and sometimes more introspective ("I feel the exact same as I did a year ago today").

Near the end of their set, Nick removed his shirt, using it to wipe sweat from his face.

"I feel like the bass player in the Roots. That's one sweaty dude." It was a tad warm for the audience and we weren't doing a thing, so it had to be hot as hell under the lights and playing their hearts out.

Frankzig referred to his band, the Music Club, as the Miami Sound machine and the duo was such a cool complement to the unique sounds of Frank's classical guitar playing.

"I know you're wondering and, yes, we were all extras in Carlito's Way," he said by way of introduction, telling us that Ray would play shaker things with his ham hock hands and Justin would play bongos.

And then a second strand of lights fell, as if to reiterate what a real show it was.

Frank and the Music Club played a Latin-influenced set with few lyrics and the most impressive Flamenco-style guitar playing the Listening Room has ever witnessed.

With percussion being shaken, scraped and turned and Justin's bongos anchoring it all, they were three mesmerizing musicians to watch.

Favorite song title, after a rough translation: "I miss my beer-drinking Mama."

Don't we all?

The set closed with Frank imploring the audience, "Hopefully that was remotely painless."

His shirt was soaked through from his energetic guitar playing and the audience completely wowed by their set.

As the band gathered up their stuff, I went up and asked a few bongo questions and was told that people who ask questions should have a drink bought for them as a reward for their musical curiosity.

How does the Listening Room keep topping itself?