Dirty Southern Bedtimes

Sometimes the audio and the visual don't match up, like in a badly dubbed movie.

Or like when I walked into the Camel for an early show tonight, a show I had been told repeatedly was going to start on time.

It was several minutes past the starting hour, confirmed by the fact that on entering, I heard Dave Watkins' distinctive dulcitar playing.

Curiously, at the same time I saw Dave Watkins standing at the bar ordering from the Camel's extensive beer selection.

Uh huh.

Turns out the show had started on time; Dave had already played something and was now looping it while he got a libation.

Thirst quencher in hand, he returned to the stage and with Joon Kim on violin, the show began in earnest.

Dave is always able to sound like multiple musicians with all of his dulcitar string playing and tapping, drumming and singing being looped.

With the addition of Joon tonight, it was an even fuller sound for his all too short set.

"God, he's talented!" the girl next to me said as he finished up.

Uh huh.

Athens, Georgia's Madeline was next and she didn't even bother with the Camel's sound system, instead using Dave's amazing pedal board to amplify her guitar and singing.

She has a beautifully clear voice with an old-time quality to it (sort of like a cross between an Appalachian and Irish singer) and a great range.

"Johnny Cash" told the story of the Man in Black in heaven wishing for an appropriate jukebox while "Dirty South" was about tying one on to forget an ex-lover's face for a few hours.

Hmm, I think I've heard of that method, but rarely has it been sung so beautifully.

Checking the time to see how many more songs she could sing and saying, "I wish all shows were this early. I'm a grandma when it comes to bedtimes" got her hoots of agreement from some in the audience.

Better her than me.

Because she's soon going on hiatus from touring to write and record, she was taking requests all night and gamely sang them all.

Even after singing a few extra songs, it didn't feel anywhere near anyone's bedtime.

After a brief break, Lobo Marino set up shop at the opposite end of the room to begin their set.

They're just back from yet another of their lengthy trips which always seem to provide fresh inspiration for  songwriting.

As a friend pointed out, there's no way to easily label their sound, but their great energy, offbeat lyric topics (the Pope naked, lobster claws) and South American influences (it's all that traveling they do) make it unnecessary to do so.

Instead, even those of us who've seen them multiple times, and that was a fair number of us tonight, found ourselves moving, tapping and laughing out loud at the banter between songs.

"Just start playing," Jameson said to Nathaniel at one point. "That'll shut her up." And so Laney's audience interaction was squelched to laughter.

Walking from my car to the house when I got home, a neighbor whizzed by on his bike, saying, "Hi, Karen, on your way to a show?"

"Just came from one," I said, causing in him to do a double take from the street.

And deservedly so. I was getting home just at moonrise. Unheard of.

I know, I know. I'm beginning to get worried about me myself.