Party of One

Another Saturday night and I ain't got nobody, so it was just me, myself and I for dinner and a show tonight (to paraphrase Joan Armatrading). Luckily, I'm pretty good company, if I do say so myself.

Dinner was at Bistro 27, although another regular was in my stool when I arrived, so I had to sit elsewhere, throwing everybody off. When Dave finally took a moment from waiting tables to say hello, it was with the explanation that he hadn't seen me because I wasn't in my regular seat. Apparently I'm invisible elsewhere. My new location did put me closer to the chef though, who greeted me by kissing my hand, always a charming start to any evening.

When I heard the specials, I knew I didn't need to even look at the menu. I ordered the crispy-fried soft-shell crab with radicchio braised in white balsamic vinegar and beurre blanc. The sweetness of the crab contrasted with the tartness of the radicchio all swimming in that decadent pink sauce made for a little bit of heaven. I finished by sopping sauce with crusty bread and looking at Carlos like he was crazy when he kept asking, "You liked it? It's okay?"

At one point, a woman stopped outside the front window and Ron the bartender threw her a kiss, then looked guiltily at me. "I don't know her well enough to stick out my tongue," he explained, anticipating my comment. "I only use my tongue with people I know really well." Well, I suppose there's some satisfaction in that seeing as how he's stuck out his tongue at me three times in the past 24 hours.

I had enough time before the show for dessert and chose the chocolate mousse when told that it had just been made this afternoon. My usual seat occupant commented on how delicious it looked as he downed his quail, but I don't share my dessert with stool stealers. And it was very good, satisfying my long-neglected chocolate fix but still light enough so I wouldn't feel bogged down at the show.

I was going to the Canal Club to see Marionette and the Whigs, my second Athens, GA band in less than two weeks. The Canal Club is not my favorite venue, but the sound was excellent tonight and that makes a big difference in enjoyment of live music.

Local favorites Marionette played a strong set, intent on making amends for their last Poe's Pub show, which they found lacking (the audience, it should be noted, thought they were great). The crowd was partly fans and the rest became converts, much like what happened when they opened for the National. In fact, leaving the Canal Club, I heard the guy behind me tell his girlfriend, "I liked that second band better than the Whigs. They were amazing."

Oddly enough, the Whigs had played the Canal Club exactly two years ago today, a fact noted by the lead singer. "So meet us back here one year from today," he suggested. At that last show, another excellent local favorite had opened: Mermaid Skeletons. The Whigs have been blessed to have a couple of RVA's best bands prime the audience for them on August 8th.

I can't recall the last time I saw a band where all the members had long hair. The drummer, in particular, swung his hair as he played in his best Dave Grohl-like fashion. It was impressive to watch. Their garage rock sound is already stadium-ready with all three guys using arena moves as they played (next up they're opening for Kings of Leon and the Black Keys; perfect pairings). The audience reacted accordingly with one guy even holding up his lighter old-school style. Luckily it was a Zippo, so the flame lasted a good long while.

After the show, I enjoyed conversation with Marionette's guitarist Adam, always a pleasure to talk to. His studio is nearly complete and he raved about the sound and lighting in the place;I smell a party possibility there in the near future.

But at the end of the evening, I left with the one who brung me, namely myself. With three of my most regular companions recently moving into relationship territory (and another lost to love six months ago), it looks like I'll be my own date even more frequently than in the past. At least there's always the random stranger for occasional conversation.

Good thing I can stand me.