Six Burner & Balliceaux, Asian Style

There was a lot going on tonight, but I narrowed it down to the least likely to be repeated event: Asian pop rock.

That let out the dance party (near West End, too far for this city girl), the pool party (thunderstorms and bathing suits, oh my) and the ever-persistent admirer who suggested making me dinner ("How about seared foie gras and a half bottle of Sauternes?").

Thanks all, but no thanks.

Beginning my night at Six Burner after the storms rolled through, my 8:30 arrival yielded a dining room in full weeds mode.

Every table was taken, every bar stool and the bar was two deep. The staff had a sheen and a glazed look.

With greetings from the staff and assurances that I would have a stool shortly, I stood in my usual place.

When bartender Josh suggested I wile away the time with a glass of wine, I had only to nod before a glass of vino verdhe showed up under the vase of purple hydrangeas.

Now I was good to wait for as long as it took.

The foursome nearest me soon noticed me skulking next to them and one of the men turned and asked, "Are you waiting for your husband?"

Snort.

I fear a solitary woman on a Saturday night is perceived as only being out to await the arrival of her man.

I was found out again.This one's got no man.

People continued to arrive and eventually a stool opened up at the far end of the bar; I wasted no time in taking it.

Body heat surrounded me on all sides despite the fact that outside, the rain had dropped the temperature considerably.

Would anyone notice if I propped open the door? Did I care if they did?

Although I knew from the frenetic activity in the visible-to-me kitchen that they needed no further work, I couldn't resist ordering the ginger limeade shrimp with green papaya salad, mint, cilantro, shiso and Thai basil

It was a good choice because the extremely generous serving of shrimp was mixed with shredded papaya (looking almost noodle-like) and was incredibly spicy, yet flavorful.

The dish's spiciness is no doubt a surprise to some (read: the blue hair set) who order it, but I found the unexpected heat quite enjoyable.

An Asian dish before Asian music, what could be more perfect?

After several hours of conversation (the Arcade Fire show, a friend's broken heart, mint's invasive mature), I politely excused myself to go hear music ("Of course you are," Josh said).

By then it was 11:00 and yet still a twelve-top remained camped out at their table.

Quite a night, indeed.

Over at Balliceaux, the crowd was all about the band rather than the food, what with the kitchen being closed and all by then.

Approaching the bar, Austin greeted me with, "Well, well, well," as if I'd been away a long time.

It was  more of a case of us having missed each other on my last few visits.

Playing was Charlottesville's Dzian, a group who reinterpret Asian pop and rock.

And lest that sound too simplistic, this sextet was combining Taiwanese a go-go, Indo-rock, Japanese eleki (a Japanese style named for the electric guitar that had traditional playing styles used on surf rock, by bands like The Ventures), Thai disco and Malaysian pop.

The result was great fun, making for poppy songs sung in various languages by musicians in bright-colored clothing.

At times, there were even red and white boas involved.

Oh, and a mother.

The keyboard player brought her mom up to do lead vocals on a couple of songs, including "Mama, Give Me a Guitar," no doubt autobiographical.

Introducing one set, the singer said, "This will be Asian go-go, not DC go-go."

If DC go-go had come out of them, it would have been hysterical, but this was worth hearing for all kinds of other reasons.

Once again, Balliceaux (and Chris Bopst) had managed to bring to RVA an interesting band in an offbeat genre for a perfectly reasonable price ($5).

I may not have been craving Asian pop, but once in the room, I was enjoying it as if I had (or perhaps this is just how I live my life).

Which was a very good thing, because the band is moving to California any day now, so who knows when I can count on another stellar evening of world surf rock music?

Much less played with musicians in boas while I watch with tequila in hand?

The world is an uncertain place.

I figure to take my pleasure where and when I can.