Pickin' Up the Pieces

It was a jigsaw puzzle of a night, but I made it work, with only one sacrifice.

Much as I hate to admit it, when it came to dinner, Facebook made me do it.

I'd seen a picture of squid ink bucatini with sea urchin carbonara at Secco online and that was that.

Arriving early enough to get prime bar stools, I chose Filicaja Chianti Superiore for the promise of red fruit and spices and was rewarded for it.

Despite a schizophrenic soundtrack that swung from French cafe to indie to dance, I found it a satisfying pastiche.

The bucatini was as beautiful to look at as it was to eat, rich with assertive pig and delicate urchin.

Not long after our bowl appeared, the guy next to us ordered the same.

Next came squash ravioli with brown butter, sage and crushed amaretti, which caused my seatmate to observe, "It's like eating pumpkin pie!"

The savory ravioli bowed to the sweet amaretti in the most delightful way.

Clearly it looked as good as it tasted, because the two girls next to me immediately ordered the same and weren't shy about admitting that they were copying.

Before long, one turned to me and said, "It's like dessert," and promptly ordered a second plate of ravioli.

Because time was running out, we finished with a plate of Olli wild boar salame (cured with garlic and Sangiovese, the very grape I was drinking), Pentaleo  (a cheese tasting of white pepper and lemon) and Sottocenere, ripe with black truffles and an ash rind.

And, just for the record, the housemade apple butter was swoon-worthy, at least for someone like me raised on apple butter.

And then it was off to the movies, specifically the opening of the new Criterion at Movieland.

Walking in to a gaggle of people drinking and schmoozing, I was glad we'd arrived just in time for the remarks portion of the evening before going across the street to see "Not Fade Away."

I knew going in it wasn't going to be a great movie, but its length best fit the rest of my evening, so it kind of won by default.

It didn't hurt that it was a coming of age story set in the '60s with a music soundtrack, either.

The opening black and white scene of Mick and Keith meeting as teens to discuss the records they were listening to soon gave way to color and teens in New Jersey, but the clothes were groovy, some of the period details correct (milk in bottles, everyone smoking everywhere, Archie comic books), but then when was life here as compelling as in swinging London?

I liked the hero's reaction the first time he heard the Beatles on the radio ("What is that?) but wondered if the young audience around me got all the cultural references ("It's a little more McGuinn-ish than we usually do").

I also thought the actor John Magaro was adorable with his thick curly hair and expressive mouth, saying hysterical things like, "They should put more than one of these fat blobs in each can," about pork and beans.

You know the fat blobs he's talking about, or at least I do.

After the movie, I chatted with some theatergoers in the lobby who'd gone into one movie and found it so depressing that they'd changed theaters mid-film.

I admire that kind of determination to make the most of an experience. Why stay put when you can have more fun some place else?

And speaking of, next up was the Camel for music.

Walking in, I got my hand stamped and was immediately greeted by man-about-town Prabir, bundled up in a scarf and knit hat.

"S'up, Karen?" he inquired, as he always does.

We'd get back to that later.

Animal Beat was playing and while I wasn't familiar with them, I certainly knew their keyboard player, Ben Wilson, one of my favorite Richmond musicians.

I heard a couple of folk rock songs, noticed that the bass player was playing shoeless before they announced their last song, "Madhouse."

Next up was DC's Alex Vans and the Hide Away, and they took the stage like they owned it.

From the first note, it was power pop heaven and they didn't let up for a moment.

Their frenetic front man was a long, tall drink of water whose lower limbs shot out non-stop as he played guitar and sang.

'Are you having a god time, Richmond?" Alex called out to us. "I've been drinking a lot and I hope you have, too."

The entire band wore Chucks (Alex's were a bright blue) and their relentless assault of great melodies, killer guitars and relentless drumming had me very glad I'd come.

The bass player was almost as energetic as Alex, moving around the stage and making the best bass player faces ever.

They did a new song called "Weekend," because what power pop group doesn't live for the weekend?

And then there was "Wait."

If I got to take my time
And make my first words rhyme
I know I'd make you mine

For a power pop-loving girl, that really is all you'd need. Just sayin'.

I was sorry to see them leave the stage, but took the opportunity to do some mingling and ended up with Prabir again.

That was a little slice of power pop heaven, I told him. Kind of rare in these parts.

He agreed, likening its scarcity to dinosaurs. "Yea, there used to be a lot of power pop around here, but no more. Kind of like the apatosaurus. Used to be a lot of them around here, but no more."

Leave it to Prabir to make a geeky science analogy, albeit one I thought apt.

Exebelle and the Rusted Cavalcade were up next and they'd morphed a bit since I'd last seen them.

Gone were the banjo, upright bass and mandolin, although the pedal steel remained.

Fortunately, so did Ben Wilson and his keyboard.

It was funny, though because while Ben is my favorite part of E&tRC, his music sensibility is, to my ear, poppier than the others and it comes through in his songwriting and voice.

Tonight it also showed in his wardrobe; he was the sole knit shirt on stage with four plaid shirts.

But luckily the band has four vocalists and all four write songs, so I got to hear some of Ben's stuff, including classics like "Spilt Coffee."

The band is rehearsing for a three hour set at Hardywood, so they'd been working on some covers and we heard the Eagles' "One of These Nights."

I'm inclined to think I was the only one in the room alive when that song came out, but the crowd was incredibly into it, dancing like it was the seventies again.

For the rousing song "Kings, Queens, Princes and Thieves," we were instructed, "If you're ready to punch someone, do it during this song," but instead the crowd danced.

In fact, despite the show stretching on till 1 a.m., the crowd hung in, getting louder and insisting the band keep playing, even after they said goodnight.

Maybe, like me, they'd worked it out just so and wanted to make sure they eked out every last minute of pleasure they could from putting the puzzle together.

Oh, but it's so satisfying when it all comes together.