Enter Rap and Doughnut Holes

So I'm just another archivist out on on a rainy night.

I'm getting tired of hearing/reading all the complaints about the wet weather (you don't hear the Seattleites whining, do you?) so I picked my dinner partner based on his sunny attitude.

"Hey, everyone, don't hate me, but I am loving this rain," he wrote earlier today and I immediately e-mailed him asking if he was free for dinner.

I, too, was loving this weather and I wanted to be with someone who felt the same.

His only stipulation for eating out was frugality, making City Dogs a shoe-in.

Tuesdays Richmond dogs (mustard, chili, onions) are only a buck and what could be cheaper than that?

So we met at the Fan location where every seat except four bar stools were taken.

Apparently cheap dogs and rain (oh, and $4 PBR tall boys) are a marriage made in heaven in this town.

We coordinated on our sides, me ordering onion rings and him cole slaw, him telling our server he was looking for a healthy side.

"Yea, we don't really do healthy here," he grinned.

Nor was that why we were there.

In fact, we both loaded our chili-laden dogs with slaw and then shared the rings.

I even ordered a chocolate milk shake, ensuring, as my Richmond grandmother would have said, that I was headed to hell in a hand basket.

The thing is, they bring you the silver milkshake blending cup with the extra in it along with your shake so even when you finish, you still have all that extra shake to replenish your empty glass.

Grandma was right.

We split up after that, he to a meeting and me to the Listening Room for music.

Tonight's show was curated by WRIR DJ Shannon Cleary, who had asked some of his favorite musicians to play acoustic.

It was also the first Listening Room without Jonathan Vassar and his lovely wife, Antonia, because their stork visit is imminent.

Their absence made for all kinds of adaptation; Rob's hand-stamping skills were suspect and Chris forgot to notify Dixie Donuts, so we missed out on everyone's favorite treats, making do with doughnut holes from god knows where.

But we soldiered on.

I greeted organizer and emcee Chris, who introduced me to the bartender, saying, "Karen has been to more of the Listening Rooms than I have."

It was high praise, but then I have been to 35 of the 37 and one of the ones I missed was because I was in another country.

Okay, so I'm bragging.

My usual Listening Room pals were notably absent but fortunately, my favorite seat was free and I made eyes at a standing friend and the seat next to me until he got the hint and came over.

Introducing Ben Shepherd, Shannon observed, "It's safe to say that the characters in Ben's songs are troubled," and went on to list what ails them.

I've heard Ben many times and admire his insightful and literate lyrics and beautiful voice but for a lot of people, it was their first time experiencing him.

He's a long, tall drink of water clad in an army jacket and old brown lace-up boots that caused the scientist sitting next to me to nudge me and say, "Cool boots."

Ben dedicated a poignant song to anyone who'd ever lost a friend to dope, did a sweet song called "Silver Dog" and cracked wise.

"Shannon described about half the songs I'm going to play, but that's okay. I wouldn't have done it, but it's okay."

Ben took a swig from his PBR between every song, a slight variation on one of my favorite Sprout shows where he took a long pull on a bottle of red wine between songs.

Favorite lyric:
I can't fathom or really understand
The world that existed before I was born

After the break, Shannon brought up two of his favorites, Matt Seymour (from Pedals on Our Pirate Ships) and Harris Mendell (of Sundials) to trade songs for us.

It was especially interesting hearing these two play acoustic, not their usual format.

And they were as funny as a comedy duo, with Harris waving his arms over his head as Matt sang and Matt playing and picking silently, doing the exact same thing Matt was playing but without sound.

Shannon had asked them to do a few of his personal favorites, so Matt did "Peter Pan Syndrome," with the terrific lyric, "Will you be my Wendy? Will you be my Tinkerbell? Don't be silly, you can be my Tiger Lily still."

Harris sang a song, "Completely Broken," about coming down Harrison and turning east on Clay into oncoming car headlights.

"It's a song about letting something bad happen to you," he explained about an area mere blocks from my house.

One song Matt began singing in more typical Pedals on Our Pirate Ships fashion (loud and brash) before saying, "Sorry, guys," and taking it down to singer/songwriter mode.

He even inserted a guitar solo ("This is the funky part") and finished by turning to Harris and boasting, "Beat that!"

Harris rose to the challenge with a song about going to community college and an Archers of Loaf cover that Matt lip-synced to.

"This is the first time I ever heard Ben Shepherd," Harris said. "He's really good."

And that's the best part of a show like tonight's. I'm sure a lot of people heard musicians they'd never heard or never would have heard otherwise.

And, let's face it, this town could use some some cross-pollination when it comes to various music scenes.

Can't we all just listen to each other?

While the crowd had been thinner than usual to start the evening, the satisfying  part was that people continued to arrive so there was still a good crowd when Shannon got up to introduce Isaac Ramsey.

"First I want to thank some of the people off the top of my head who take the time to archive some of the music shows that happen here, like tonight," and went on to mention assorted groups (The Listening Room, RVA Magazine) and bloggers, like yours truly.

It was a very generous thing to do and a reminder that if someone doesn't record all these show memories, eventually they'll be lost.

But enough patting myself on the back.

Isaac began by saying, "I don't know how I'm going to follow the comedy of Matt and Harris," no small feat.

But I laughed immediately when he introduced his rap, "85 Bears," saying, "It's not necessarily about the team. It's about winning...and white flight."

I'd seen Issac before, both rapping as Swordplay and as part of the band Double Rainbow and his songwriting and rhyming skills are exceptional.

Isaac was undoubtedly the Listening Room's first rapper, albeit a very melodic one with a fine voice who played guitar (as well as percussion on his guitar).

He dedicated "Song for the Dead," with the tantalizing lyric, "Existence is a human assumption,"to "Anyone who lost someone last year."

Then he snuck in new material.

"This is a Double Rainbow song so new we haven't played it out yet," Isaac said by way of introduction. "So if you see Jamie, don't tell him."

If I saw Jamie, not that I know Jamie, I would tell him what a great song it was.

Isaac said, "This song is called "Mr. Rosenberg" and I'm pretty sure the story behind it is better than the song."

He proceeded to tell the story, which was disturbing and true, but the song was a worthy counterpoint, no matter what he said.

At first he called "Lay Down" another song about death, but changed that and called it a song about life.

Then he got up as if to leave, instead going backstage for another guitar.

"I did something I never do," he explained. "I brought two guitars so I wouldn't have to tune in front of you. I did that partly for me, but mostly for you. Okay, I have to tune a little."

He needn't have worried about not being funny with lines like that.

But it was his last comment that best summed up the evening.

"Based on how awesome this night was, I think I probably don't come to the Listening Room enough.

But then, who does, other than little miss 35 of 37?

Given tonight's genre-bending show, I bet a lot more people will be more assiduous about putting it in their calendar.

After all, why fathom or try to understand a world that existed before the Listening Room?

Like the Dixie Donuts that usually accompany the music, it's there every month for the taking.