Love Letters and Alcohol

One of these things was not like the other.

Namely, me.

But when a friend offered me a ticket to the Sons of Bill show at Capital Ale House tonight, I figured why not?

I'd heard a few of their alt-rock songs on WNRN, as well as a couple by Carl Anderson (the opener) and live music on a Saturday night is an inalienable right, no?

When I arrived just before Anderson began, the room looked about two thirds full, but that quickly grew to cpacity.

T-shirts seen in the crowd: The Hold Steady, Deftones and Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.

My friend and I made our way to the front, leaning on the long wooden divider near the stage to watch.

A guy from Virginia Beach came over and chatted us up, saying he was a big SoB fan and had seen them many times, as had my friend.

Both proceeded to school me.

Three brothers fronted this band: James and Sam on guitars and Abe on keyboards, along with (non brothers) Seth on bass and Richmonder Todd on drums.

When he began, Anderson was lucky to have so many people already in attendance for his set and he said as much.

He played one song because, "When the mother of three of the guys in the headlining band asks you to play a song, you play it. This is for Barbara."

We weren't the only ones in the crowd who got a kick out his "Twenty-something Blues," a song written because "I recently experienced them."

I'm trying to remember what was worth feeling blue about when I was a 20-something.

Sample lyric: "Ever since my baby left, I can't find no place to call home."

He covered a song called "Losers" by L.A. band Bell Brigade before wrapping up his short set.

Just before SoB got started, my friend had the idea that we should mount the divider, the better to afford two short women a good vantage point.

She hoisted herself up easily enough, but I was a bit more hesitant given I was wearing a dress and the divider was fairly high.

The problem was solved when I inquired of the guy standing in front of us wearing two cameras if I could borrow his knee.

Turns out he couldn't bend down, but his able-bodied son was more than willing to do what was needed.

Will you get down on one knee like you're proposing to me, I asked sweetly.

A quick step on his knee and I was sitting atop the divider, able to see over tall men.

Our new Virginia Beach friend circled back around, observing, "Found yourselves some good seats, I see."

He introduced himself and we had a new best friend named Stewart.

A few minutes later, another girl hoisted herself up to join us, but she lasted only a couple of minutes.

When I asked why she got down, she said, "The divider felt a little shaky when I got up there. Plus I wanted to be closer to him," and pointed at her man.

True love at Cap Ale House.

It was clear from the crowd's reaction when Sons of Bill came onstage that there were a lot of long-time fans there.

"Can we dim the lights?" lead singer James immediately asked. "It feels a little cafeteria in here."

Honestly, it was fairly dim throughout the room with the only major lighting on stage.

As they moved through their set, it didn't take me long to figure out that I was probably the only person in the room who had never seen SoB before.

One time, they got as far as the first three notes when my friend asked of Stewart, "Is this 'The Rain'?"

It must have been because they smiled and nodded at each other once it began fully.

Even with limited song recognition skills, it didn't take any effort to fall in love with Sam's stellar guitar playing.

While some of the songs came across more alt-country, so far as I could tell, this was a guitar-driven band who rocked hard.

Bonus: there is nothing like the sound of siblings harmonizing and these three were gorgeous together.

James did most of the leads, with Sam and Abe each taking a couple of songs.

One of the rabid SoB fans next to me informed me that Sam had gone to Julliard and been a jazz guitarist, although tonight he was more of a rock god.

I did recognize "Broken Bottles," a song about love letters and alcohol with lap steel accompaniment, with its memorable lyric:

Hank Williams might have been a lovesick drinker
But being a lovesick drunk don't make you Hank

Come on, them's words to live by.

Because of my SoB virgin status, I was unable to join in when everyone began singing along.

The crowd chorus got especially loud after James exhorted us to, "See if you can sing louder than Charleston did the other night," causing James to grin and say, "Sweet!" when the volume rose.

During another song, the guy in front of me was telling strangers, "This song is about my high school," so I guessed he went to school with one or some of the sons.

Sample lyric: Go down to King Street and find myself a queen

The energy in the room was terrific, no doubt aided by a lot of fans from Charlottesville and points beyond (like our new BFF Stewart).

"We played D.C. last night and it was a great show," James said, "If you can put up with D.C."

The tone of his voice conveyed that they'd prefer not to.

After a gospel song testified mightily by brother Abe and his keys, we got a treat.

"Let's take a little adventure to 1988," James enthused. "I was four."

Amid audience groans (four, really?) the band launched into REM's "Finest Work Song" and I couldn't have been more surprised or tickled.

It was the best kind of cover, too, with SoB making it their own, taking it and running with it way past the REM four-minute mark.

Let's just say Sam's playing would have made Peter Buck proud.

And I say that as someone who heard REM do it in 1989.

Side note: Fully half the crowd showed absolutely no recognition of the song whatsoever.

Weird.

Before doing a song from their new album, "Sirens," James said, "We recorded it with Dave Lowery of Cracker right here in Richmond, so we ate at Nick's a lot. Any of you know Nick's?"

Know it? I live two blocks from it. I consider it part of the heart of my neighborhood.

I was the lone person to respond when he asked the question, but my voice was lost among the talkers.

"Best sandwiches around," James informed the clueless crowd.

All I could do was clap in agreement.

J-Ward, represent.

Earlier, James had commented that the girls down in front of the stage were always the same, no matter what the city.

It didn't sound like a compliment to me.

But when it came time to close the show, he threw one of them a bone.

"You guys have been great," he said. "All except you. You've been right in front of my microphone all night. But that's okay, cause we're going to play 'Texas," and she all but fainted, apparently having yelled out for it repeatedly all night.

The kick-ass song about a Virginia boy needing to get the hell out of Texas name-checked several cities ("Got my butt kicked in a bar outside Abilene" and "I wasn't strange enough to fit in in Austin, I soon found out") and had the crowd in ecstasy.

And while the narrow divider had not been the most comfortable seat for the past two hours, my view had been stellar.

True, I'd probably been the only first-timer hearing Sons of Bill.

And I'd definitely been the only Jackson Ward resident if no one else knew Nick's.

Doesn't matter. I can always appreciate a tight band displaying superior musicianship and harmonizing in full-on rock mode.

But as someone who was a tad older than four in 1988, it was especially an unexpected delight to hear REM re-interpreted by a band of Virginia boys.

I sang along to every word.

Seems I ended up fitting in just fine.