Going Dutch and Sexo

I didn't see a lot of crossover.

Chances are I was the only person at the documentary screening at the Virginia Center for Architecture and at the Guillermo Sexo show at Balliceaux tonight.

I noticed that the crowd was much smaller than usual for the monthly Richmond Modern film series as we mingled at the reception, enjoying beer, wine and apps before the show.

Tonight they were screening "Helia Jongerius: Contemporary Archetypes" about the Dutch designer.

Okay, so I'd never heard of her but I'm sure savvy types have.

She's apparently considered one of the most innovative and creative designers working today.

Her strength seemed to be putting together extreme differences; she combined a contemporary aesthetic with something from the collective memory of the culture.

What I liked most about her whatever (furniture, textiles, household items) was her disdain for perfection.

She considered imperfections to show the work of the artisan's hand.

"I'm not afraid to make failures because failures can be brilliant," she said almost philosophically.

Hmm...

I made a point to arrive at Balliceaux in time to catch Boston indie rockers Guillermo Sexo.

As I expected, they were three guys and girl who delivered reverb, psych-folk and a fair amount of shredding.

I ran into a DJ friend who was as into their set as I was.

He was a tad more enthusiastic about the lead singer's dress falling off her shoulder during a rambunctious drum part, but other than that, we both found a lot to like about the sound.

The main event tonight was Black Girls (Modest Mouse meets K.C. and the Sunshine Band) whom I've sen lots of times.

It was the lead singer's birthday and he was in high spirits.

"There's a reason you're out at a bar on a Wednesday night and it's not the music!" he shouted, exhorting the crowd to drink.

My Hornitos was in hand, so I was well ahead of him.

And he wasn't entirely correct, either. While I would have guessed that far too few people had been there to see Guillermo Sexo, plenty of people of all ages were there to see Black Girls.

Definitely not all of them (it is Balliceaux) but plenty.

Even so, after the third song the guy next to me leaned over and asked if I knew the name of the band.

When I told him, he asked if I knew the band members. Sorry, no. But clearly some people are still discovering them.

Encouraging the crowd to move to the music, the singer said, "I have a dream that all of Balliceaux will be dancing" and plenty of people obliged.

It doesn't take much effort to dance to music like that of Black Girls (K.C. made a fortune proving that back in the 70s).

As the show wound down, I made my way to the front bar only to run into (surprise) friends, musicians both, but not a couple.

He was trying to convince her that he's crossed the fence and can now date blonds. I didn't even attempt to join that discussion.

When I asked if they'd come for the music which was nearly over, they explained that they were there to drink.

Anything in particular, I asked?

"Alcohol on ice," the more smart-assed of the two responded.

My alcohol on ice long gone, I left them at the bar talking about wife-stealing.

Like I said, not a lot of cross-over.

Which, I guess, makes me the missing link.

I do have some brilliant failures to recommend myself to both crowds.