Everybody Dance Now

Luckily, you didn't have to be 100 years old to attend.

Tonight was the album release show for the Low Branches, that band that had been a duo when I first started paying attention to them two and a half years ago and has now grown to a quartet.

They grow up so fast, don't they?

It was a cold but fast walk three blocks to Gallery 5 to find all kinds of favorite people there: the stylish friend and her cute husband, the music buddy sans boyfriend, the scientist, the beekeeper, the musician and light show wizard.

All the fun kids.

Starting the show was Dogs on Main Street, also known as Mac, looking particularly dapper tonight in a shirt and vest.

I've seen Mac probably half a dozen times, but I continue to be impressed by how his craft has developed over time.

His interesting growl of a voice always commands the room and inevitably, when he pulls out his harmonica, someone near me notes, "I love harmonica."

Tonight it was two different female friends. I'd work that if I were you, Mac.

"This song is new. It's about me It's called "Sledgehammer," he announced with no further explanation.

The audience was surprisingly quiet for his set, no doubt caught up in his earnest songs.

Partway through he said, "I'm going to switch it up," and put down his acoustic guitar for his electric.

Favorite lyric: Love don't depend on the time of day.

Before his last song, "Reckoning," he said, "I want to thank Christina for asking me to play tonight. Annousheh is next and she's gonna be great. Much better than listening to me up here bleeding."

Mac's self-deprecation skills continue to develop right along with his music, a humorous bonus for his audiences.

During the break, the scientist came up to say hello and I immediately asked if he had chocolate (he usually does) in his pocket.

Instead he was carrying Gummis and proceeded to pull out a pocket knife to open the bag and willingly shared with the group.

All at once, a friend came trotting over, saying she was hungry and had seen the candy.

Another friend introduced me to his date, who surprised me by knowing who I was, having read my blog all last summer.

"I felt like I was in your life," said the lovely stranger.

Now there's a 21st century situation.

Next up was Annousheh and my love for her well-crafted pop songs is a matter of record.

It had barely been three weeks since I'd seen her play at Balliceaux, but the set list was rearranged for us groupies tonight and Depeche Mode was nowhere to be found.

That might have been just for the pretty people crowd.

A girlfriend and I had taken up spots right in front while another friend perched on the steps leading to the stage.

From the first notes on her keyboard, it felt like time to dance.

Friend and I proceeded to bop in place to the hook-heavy songs until the beekeeper came over to say she wanted to dance but her boyfriend didn't.

Isn't that always the way?

A glance around, though, proved that while there was some female swaying going on, most males were rooted in place like oak trees.

Given how dancey her new album "The Trouble I Find" is, it was tough to comprehend.

After the set, I asked a guy near me why more people hadn't danced.

"Everyone wanted to," he said seriously. "But you never know what people's reasons or reluctance are about."

Is there anything better than a Saturday night philosopher? I think not.

A friend came up during the break and joined our little group and before you know it, she was talking about her youth.

When she reminisced about smoking weed in her bedroom with her girlfriend and exhaling through a sock out the window, another friend about lost it.

"I don't know what we thought the sock would do," she said, laughing just as hard.

Memories light the corners of our minds.

It seemed to me that the crowd was even bigger by the time the Low Branches started their set.

Tonight was their first time playing as a foursome with the addition of Blasco on drums, so a fuller sound was inevitable.

Singer Christina, looking lovely with a rose in her hair, began by saying the unlikeliest of things," I know we don't exactly seem like a dance band, but you can dance if you want. I love to dance!"

I'm here to say that nobody danced, but then the achingly beautiful songs don't really have a dance beat, if you know what I'm saying.

"Our new album is called "100 Years Old" and it's dedicated to my parents," she said, then realized how that sounded. "But they're not 100 years old. Ooh, I'm glad they're not here."

The band sounded terrific with Josh on electric bass, Matt's full attention on guitar and Blasco filling things out on drums.

In fact, there were several songs which he took to a whole new level with his drumming.

At one point, feedback became an issue and Christina stopped singing so Josh could check the amp, meanwhile telling us, "Our bass player Josh is our technician," causing Josh's girlfriend to yell, "Woo!" from the middle of the floor.

In a perfect world, technicians would get as much audience love as musicians.

Their last song was a show-stopper, not because it was their last, but because the song was so incredible that the room felt like it stood still.

Favorite lyric: You can't stop a storm, can you?

Afterwards, everyone around joined me in raving about how strong/breathtaking/catchy the last song had been.

"I feel like that was like '70s A.M. gold," the photographer gushed.

Well put, my friend. Just don't ask me to exhale through a sock.