Not the Betting Kind

"You bet your tights it will sound awesome," I was told.

I didn't have to. A musician friend had invited me to a house show at the Montrose Heights Potluck Palace (also known as his home) and I had responded by saying, "Sounds awesome!"

He told us all that it was going to be one of the best shows of the year and he's a guy who knows what he's talking about when it comes to music.

So rather than betting my tights, I put them on, made a pesto, roasted red pepper and bacon pizza and rode with other J-Ward friends to the East End.

The potluck offerings made for a smorgasbord of taste delights: seafood casserole, vegetarian chili and jalapeno cornbread and a decadent mac and cheese.

Even better were the desserts: apple pie and ice cream, Country Style Doughnuts (come on, we were in the neighborhood) and drumsticks of the ice cream variety.

As a friend noted, "I love parties where people bring ice cream." I agree, which is why I had a Drumstick.

And a doughnut.

Self-restraint goes out the window at a good house show.

While we ate, P.J. Sykes played DJ with his turntables spread out on a  Star Wars sheet-covered table (his wife said the sheet was from 1983 and his childhood), dominating the living room visually and sonically.

P.J. is an inveterate record collector, sometimes buying entire collections of mostly crap solely for the one or two treasures he finds among them (tonight it was the "space" record).

Playing first was C.J. Boyd, who'd had a tough week.

He'd just come back from a European tour where his electric bass had been stolen, the one he'd learned to play on and had had for eighteen years.

He ended up getting arrested at an Occupy Congress event while trying to defend a fellow protester who was being roughly handled by the cops and now he was just happy to be out of jail.

"That's what life's about, adjusting to shit," he said philosophically.

He played upright bass and electric bass (a friend having donated his since he no longer played it) and sang, layering both.

His music was downright trance-like, very intense.

Following him was Netherfriends, a band that sounds plural but really just showcased the multi-talented Shawn playing guitar, drum pad and Casio keyboard.

I'd checked him out online beforehand and been impressed with what I'd heard.

A friend at tonight's show had seen him play at the Hopscotch Festival last year and assured me I was in for a treat musically.

Lush and hooky songs aside, could this guy dance!

Even confined by his instrument set-up, he danced up on his toes James Brown-style, put his palm out to accentuate a lyric (stop in the name of showmanship!) and generally turned his multi-layered sound into a full-on performance piece.

"You gotta fight for your right to party," he reminded us in song.

My friend and I were a little put off by the people who didn't come into the room for his set but kept talking loudly in the other room.

"They're just rude," she said dismissively.

And the loss was theirs. I don't think they realized what an amazing show was being put on in the living room while they chatted away throughout his set.

The last slot was filled by tonight's host, Dave Watkins, he of the looping dulcitar and the endless variations of sound he can create.

Somehow my friend had never seen Dave perform, so I watched her sit transfixed by the intricate melodies and harmonies he created.

When he promised that the next song would be kind of weird, a friend took that as a cue. "I'm gonna sit down for weird," she said, taking a place on the floor.

But weird to Dave is music to the ears of an audience and anyone who can make music blowing into his stringed instrument is a somebody I want to hear.

Even more so when he arranges a dinner, invites out-of-town musicians to come play at his house and I'm on the guest list for the unfolding of it all.

Not only did I not have to sacrifice my tights but I also got impressive music and unexpected Country Style doughnuts.

You know, they say that's what life's about, adjusting to shit. Tonight's shit was stellar.

Adjusting was a real pleasure.