Watch Me Open Doors

Alert the media: I got taken to the Joanna Newsom show. An invitation was extended, I accepted and for the first time in almost two years, someone took me to hear music.

Of course the only person who would invite someone to a Joanna Newsom show is a serious fan because no one goes to her shows except the devoted.You have to want to hear a harpist/pianist with a little girl voice; it's not the kind of thing one randomly decides to check out on a lark.

The problem for the Broad Street restaurants tonight was that is was also opening weekend for White Christmas at the Empire Theater. Between the National-goers and the theater types, Tarrant's was pretty much mobbed when we got there.

Fortuitously, a couple of bar stools opened up as if by magic and the hostess introduced us to, "Danny, the best bartender. He'll take care of you." If Danny and I weren't already such good friends, I'd never have given him so much crap about being "introduced" to him like that.

Because the show was going to be a seated one, we wanted to eat and get going and Danny expedited that. Well, we were also starving, so that might have moved things along a tad, too.

My companion had the Reuben, which he raved about, and I had one of tonight's specials, a vegetable tart (asparagus, onion, mushrooms, olives, tomato, goat cheese on a thick crust). It was just the thing with a glass of South African Faraway Farms Chenin Blanc.

Walking out to leave behind three women and a child, the little girl stopped in awe and said, "Ooh, it's cool at night in the city. It lights up!" Between the headlights, stoplights and store lights, I imagine it must have been pretty impressive for a suburban child. One can only hope they bring her back downtown often.

Once at the National, I was surprised and pleased to see signs everywhere saying that this was a "Quiet Show" and asking people to refrain from talking or using cell phones or they would be asked to leave. In my perfect world, this would be the policy at every show I attend.

We found many chairs already taken, but happily settled into two not far from the stage. There was an overwhelming sense of expectation in the room of rabid fans.

When Newsom took the stage, fans broke the rule right off the bat, though. I actually heard a couple of sighs and more than a few squeals as she sat down behind her harp. I don't think any if them could help themselves; they were just genuine reactions of adoration.

In a ruffly purple dress and with a braid almost down to her waist, Newsom and her band (2 violinists/vocalists, a drummer, a trombonist who played mouth harp and a guitar/mandolin/banjo player) proceeded to played two hours of beautiful, offbeat music.

During her between-songs banter, a fan yelled out, "I drove 300 miles to see you!" and she asked him where he'd come from. "Pittsburgh," he yelled back from the balcony. "We like Pittsburgh," she answered congenially. Do we?

"I came a mile!" a guy humorously then offered. Hey, I'd come a mile, too, but I wasn't bragging about it, now was I?

The song "Peach, Plum, Pear" made a lot of the audience very, very happy and resulted in a standing ovation. Newsom came back for one piece solo with her harp and then the band returned for one last epic song.

Another standing ovation and it was all over. And while the spell should have been broken, most of the audience was walking on air as they left. Favorite lyric: What a woman does is open doors.

Outside I ran into Herschel ("Of course I'd be here if you're here. We're soulmates!" he reminded me), the only familiar face all evening. But that was fine because I had a companion for a change. Random conversations weren't necessary because I had built-in company with whom I could enjoy the show.

I think I could get used to this being asked thing.