Fried, Funk and Confetti

It was December repeating itself, but only in the best possible way.

December 5, 2012 was the last time I'd been to the Roosevelt for their infrequent fried chicken nights, so when I saw the smoke signal go up indicating it was yard bird night, all bets were off.

I found another fried fetishist and we were walking up the ramp to the Roosevelt at 5:05 in the pouring rain.

You have to understand, they start serving Lee's fried chicken when they open and when it's gone, it's gone.

And given that it's gluten-free and comes with an addictive chile/honey glaze for dipping, it goes fast.

When I was there in December, it was gone by 6:15. Ergo, there was no margin for error.

Our little five-top convened at a table, unusual for me since I always occupy a bar stool at the Roosevelt.

When our server came to take the order, it basically boiled down to fried chicken and greens: collards, brussels sprouts and broccoli.

And let me assure you, as the accountant pointed out, the only purpose of the green course was to put something between all that fried food and sudden death.

With Neko Case belting it out on the sound system, we munched chicken, dipping it into the sticky and spicy honey until everyone was in a food coma.

And still one of us took home enough chicken for his lunch for the next two days.

Our quintet splintered from there although two of us ended up at the Firehouse for the Listening Room and more repetition.

And like Lee's fried chicken, it was all worth repeating.

Instead of last month's store-bought doughnut holes at the L.R., tonight we had homemade cookies courtesy of one of the Richmanian Ramblers, Richmond's favorite Romanian gypsy band.

Emcee Chris thanked the attendees for braving the rain for music, not always the case in our fair city.

"Are there any Pacific Northwesters here?" he inquired, finding one in the third row. "This is nothing, right?"

The guy flicked his hand in a "Pshaw" manner that made it clear that he had little tolerance for weather wimps.

"Consider yourselves frontier types," Chris said before apologizing to first-timers for the kinks still being worked out while organizer Antonia is on leave.

"She's the glue of this event and she's, uh, got a newborn," he explained.

By the time she's back to running things, the boys may even have the hang of it, but no one's counting on it.

First up was Listening Room alumni Lobo Marino, who'd played December 14, 2010 on a wickedly cold night when the L.R. was still at the Michaux house.

They'd just come back from being on tour again and looked especially coordinated with Laney in an oxblood-colored dress and white sweater and Jameson in oxblood-hued pants and a white shirt with suspenders.

Sort of Richmond's very own White Stripes, at least ensemble-wise.

Lobo Marino are known for their unexpected stage goings-on and tonight's addition to the show was a voice-activated light that flashed according to what Laney sang.

With their unique assortment of instruments - harmonium, metal jug, bells on stools and ankles, mouth harp- they produce fluid songs for two voices and whatever mystical spirit moves them.

With a nod to RVA Magazine writer Shannon Cleary's best of 2012 singles list, they called friend Patrick Bell up on stage to play the mesmerizing "Stay With Me," a song they'd never played live before.

That, my friends, is why you never want to skip a Listening Room or moments like that are missed.

Lobo Marino made their set a true homecoming show, full of energy and happiness and before long, Jameson's suspenders were down around his knees and Laney moved her wide black belt back and forth between her waist and hips depending on whether or not she was playing the accordion.

For their joyous song "Celebrate," they called up four friends to assist and they arrived in pointed, shiny birthday hats (in one case, two hats, one over each ear) with tubes of shiny confetti, which they ejected over the stage mid-song.

For those of us at their last L.R. show, it was a variation on a theme; then they'd used a fan with streamers and bits of paper to shower the stage with festivity.

Afterwards, Laney looked around and observed, "I got confetti in my tea!"

I feel safe in saying that that's the first time those words were uttered at a Listening Room.

For their classic song "Animal Hands," the two did a face to face sing off, which afterwards Jameson claimed Laney won.

Which was true, but nothing could have topped the long ago December version of that song when the audience had thrown stuffed animals at the band during it.

As seems to be their latest inclination, they closed with a Hindi chant based on the story of a monkey god who picks up an entire city when a warrior needs only one herb.

They'd laid out the chant's lyrics for the crowd, asked a trio to join them onstage and set out to, as Laney put it, "Hopefully get to a state of religious ecstasy."

Sri ram jai jai ram
Sita ram jai radhey sham

A person really can't ask for more than a set that ends ecstatically.

During the intermission, I admired the tiny reason that Antonia has been missing in action from L.R. duty.

Tiny Casimir seemed right at home at the Listening Room, but given his lineage that's really no surprise.

Before beginning again, host Chris informed us that despite the L.R.'s "no talking" rule, it was okay to laugh if bands made jokes, undoubtedly good to know for newbies.

When the show resumed, it was with shoeless Zac Hryciak and the Junglebeat, who'd last played the L.R. December 18, 2009 after a snowstorm that kept many people home, but not me.

Wow, three years, where does the time go?.

Maybe it was the long time since their last appearance for this crowd, but they wasted no time with banter, jumping right into their set.

A couple of energetic songs in and Zac stopped to wipe his face, saying, "It might not look like it, but it's really hot up here. And that whole "laugh at our jokes" thing, you don't have to do that. We're not that funny."

That could be debated (he and violinist/keyboard player Jessica alone banter like exes), but with a band as good as Junglebeat, we were too busy getting into their pretty pop sound to debate it.

Three and sometimes four voices (a bass player who sings!) combining magnificently.

A kick-ass drummer, impossible not to watch, who defines their sound.

Well-placed violin. Unusual song structures. And the distinctively angelic voice of Zac.

"We get really excited when we play and then we play our songs too fast. We're blowing right through this," Zac said, just before consciously slowing down for "Colossus," a song about either Mila Kunis or Zac's masculinity, depending on which band member you believe.

Zac thanked Lobo Marino, saying, "They brought the funk and the confetti."

What more could a band want in a compliment?

Like Lobo Marino, one of their songs had been chosen by Shannon for his year-end best of list, so Zac thanked him and pointed at Lobo Marino in the front row, saying, "We're right under you guys!" before playing, "Wear a Helmet," a beautiful analogy about risk-taking when it comes to love.

Violinist Jessica reminisced about the first time they'd played that song live at the Triple, a dive on Broad Street she characterized as having only Yuenglings and pool tables.

She's right, that about sums up the Triple, may they rest in peace.

After "Babbayagga," a song about chicken legs and bad dreams, they did "Charles and Bixby," one of two songs they spent the weekend recording for a new record.

Halfway through it, Zac messed up, stopped and they restarted, leaving himself wide open to Jessica teasing him about a song they'd played "1,000 times."

Lees' fried chicken, Lobo Marino, Zac Hryciak and the Junglebeat.

Decembers redux.

A thousand times or a few times, if it's something you enjoy in life, does it even matter if you keep repeating them?

Honestly, I can't think of a better way to get to religious ecstasy.