Moon River

I saw the whole of the moon.

Surely that was what delivered such a mind-blowing show tonight.

It was going to be just a Monday night in the 'hood - a walk to the pizza door at Tarrant's for several slices eaten in a booth listening to employee chatter from behind the unseen counter before a show.

Whoa, what? 
And that's all that I got.
What's that address again? 
And it's fully erect!
Dude, wait.
True story.

Halfway to Gallery 5, I heard Canary Oh Canary's distinctive drumming, telling me the show had begun.

Inside, a small crowd was watching them do their usual intense set and I spotted several familiar faces.

Next came Horsehead with their straight ahead rock and roll enlivened by the dapperly-dressed Kevin on guitar, keyboard and slide.

"I just got word back from the bouncer that it's okay to come to the front," the lead singer implored. "You won't be thrown out for coming closer."

The crowd was tenative at best about getting too close.

During the break before Ken Stringfellow came out, a woman came over to grab her coat from a chair near me and I smiled at her.

"People are so friendly in Virginia!" she exclaimed, clearly surprised."I could live here!"

A Floridian, she's up here on business training and had decided to get out and hear live music.

Right there, she got major points. What a good visitor.

She was impressed at the age range of the show attendees and shared that she'd already eaten at Comfort and Tarrant's.

I suggested Bistro 27 for tomorrow since it's also within the orbit of her hotel.

Someone's got to steer the tourists right.

Before Ken Stringfellow started, a friend came over and expressed surprise that it was clearly going to be solo show.

He'd expected at least a small band but it was looking like Ken with guitar and keyboard.

Fine by me.

We agreed that it was an exciting prospect.

When he took the stage, it was to tell us how stuffed he was. "I ate at Comfort and I know what that's short for - uncomfortably full. It was so good."

He promptly grabbed his guitar and harmonica, walked down the stage's steps and began singing amongst us little people.

Reality is subject to cancellation.

Because the crowd was embarrassingly small (come on, people, do the Posies or Big Star mean nothing to you?), it was like being at a house party with Ken in the center.

Ken Stringfellow in the center.

Very cool.

The guy's got a stellar voice, standout songwriting skills and a genuine charisma and obvious delight in performing, making us a most fortunate audience.

At one point, my friend Gregg, a drummer, leaned over and remarked on what a terrifically intimate thing we were experiencing.

"This is the best show I've been to in years. I'm glad you're here too or no one would believe me when I told them about this," he whispered.

True story, to quote the Beavis and Butthead troupe behind the Tarrant's counter.

After singing a few songs while wandering among us, he returned to the stage to play keyboards for a few more.

Maybe he anticipated being lonely up there on stage by himself, so when he invited us to join him onstage, I was one of the dozen who did.

Sure, some people stayed on the floor where they could see him head on, but not me.

For all I know, no musician may ever again invite me to join him so this wasn't an opportunity I could pass up.

Best of all, he kept swiveling around to look at us and smile like he was plumb tickled to have the company.

Eventually we all migrated back down to the floor and Ken took up his guitar again.

He also said he'd plucked a feather from the Richmond bird and invited local songbird Julie Karr to join him for a few songs.

Julie's husky voice matched or harmonized with Ken's for four songs, including Neil Young's achingly beautiful "Birds."

Singing inches from each other while Ken played guitar and Julie kept time with her hands, it gave me chills and, judging from those around me, they felt the same.

Once they finished, he did an exquisite version of "Moon River," taking it in directions Henry Mancini could never have imagined but would have found beautiful.

When he headed back up on stage, he motioned us to follow and many of us did.

There, he enlisted assistance from the singer of Horsehead to sing Big Star's "Thirteen," surely one of the most beautiful songs about the teen angst years ever written and suddenly an audience member jumped onstage to sing along.

Would you be an outlaw for my love?

Pretty soon, half the audience joined in so he followed that with the Posie's "Solar Sister" and even more people knew every word.

You thought you could defeat her
You're lucky you could meet her

There was even shoulder holding and swaying while the crowd sang onstage.

Time was running out but the crowd was having none of him ending his set, so he caved, saying, "I only pull this out for special occasions...and when I don't see a jail."

It only took a couple of notes to recognize the Beach Boys' "God Only Knows" and the singalong was now complete.

Gregg had been right. "Without you blogging about it, it's like it never happened," a friend had chided me after missing his show last night.

So here's my proof that the Ken Stringfellow-in-the-round show happened.

And if I can be in a converted firehouse on the night of a full moon listening to a man's voice I have swooned to since 1993 sing, "I'm crossing you in style someday," you can bet I've got a mile-wide smile on my face.

Who couldn't live here?