No Big Plan

Today was a goof-off day par excellence.

For the first time in weeks, I wasn't on deadline. Nobody was expecting anything from me and there was nothing I really had to do.

Which, given the beautiful weather, was a treat.

I made a few contacts for future deadlines, did a little housekeeping and even took a quick nap.

And by 6:30, I was rarin' to go.

The easiest thing to do was head to my neighborhood joint, even though I had it on good authority that the chef is in Paris.

Bistro 27 was dead and I assumed it was due to the still 68-degree weather until the sous chef told me they had been mobbed last night when it was just as nice.

The staff seemed glad for the reprieve after an unexpectedly crazy evening, so I had built-in company.

One guy told me how he's lived and worked in Jackson Ward for years and loves it.

Calling it the best neighborhood, he mentioned how "you see the same people all the time."

His former roommate had moved to Carytown, a neighborhood this guy dismissed out of hand for its lack of neighborliness.

I love meeting another rabid J-Ward fan.

A couple came in the door and I admired her colorful ensemble - a purple top and gold pants.

I was thinking how much I'd like to have a gold skirt and purple sweater to take advantage of that brilliant color combination myself when she walked by and I got a chance to compliment her.

Turns out the colors were no accident. She and her husband were on their way to the JMU game at the Coliseum.

And here I thought she'd paired those colors on her own. That illusion was destroyed.

Over a glass of wine and mussels in marinara sauce (notable because I am not a red sauce fan but this was outstanding with chunks of onion and a bit of heat - if only all marinara was that good), I chatted with another server, getting the latest restaurant scoop.

Naturally work talk segued into general chatter and before I knew it, I had to run to catch a show.

Walking across Broad Street to the Camel, a girl was crossing with me.

I took a chance and asked if she was going to see a particular band.

"No, I don't know any of the bands but I know the bar," she said cryptically. "I'll see you inside."

That was the last I saw of her.

Inside, I met a fellow show-goer whose name I've never learned but who I've seen at many shows, especially at the National.

We took a moment to marvel at the recent glut of good shows announced, hoping lots of tickets get bought to show promoters that Richmond is a good town to book shows.

Don't let us down, friends.

Looking around for any other familiar faces, I saw not a one and appropriated the booth in the back corner just as the first band finished.

The second band took the stage doing "Crazy" as a sound check before saying, "We are Sleepy Brother and we're gonna begin the tune-age."

That's what I was there for, tune-age.

Asking, "Who's been to Tulsa?" they got a few raised hands. "I'm sorry," the singer Heather said to those raised hands before launching into "Tulsa."

That was followed by Coldplay's "Til Kingdom Come" before she said, "This song isn't necessarily new, it's on our EP, but it is the first time we're doing it live."

"It's a little catchy, so you can clap or dance," Heather said but I saw neither despite the song's catchiness and her lovely voice.

They closed with "Want and Need," mentioning that if anyone had a better title for the song, to get with them after their set.

More people came in before Wayfarer's set, a guy not a band.

He started by saying, "I'll try to do some songs and get this done," and played "Being in Love," with the lyric, "I love the way you look at me."

"So I'm Wayfarer. Sorry I sound like I smoke 1,000 cigarettes a day but I'm sick. So you'll just have to deal with it."

Sure there were occasional cracks in his voice, but overall he did a fine job for one operating at diminished capacity.

He's only been in Richmond for a year and it was only his second show at the Camel, he told us.

"So if you haven't caught on, I write a lot of songs about love," he explained. "The next one is about losing love."

From what I could hear of it, it was a great song, but tonight's crowd was a dreadful one, more interested in blabbing and laughing than listening to the music.

Maybe that's the double-edged sword of a free show, like tonight's.

Perhaps people are more attentive when they've paid to come in.

The crowd was slightly better when My Darling Fury, the headliner, joined Wayfarer for the last song, "Best and Worst."

It made for a quicker-than-usual set-up for My Darling Fury, although they had sound issues all night.

"Can I get a little more Clark in my monitor?" one of the guitarists asked about the other guitarist.

"Can I get a little more of me in the monitor?" Danny the singer asked immediately, following with humor. "That's my favorite part."

I liked his sense of humor already.

On top of that, once he opened his mouth to sing, I think it's safe to say everyone in the room was enamored of his voice.

Danny didn't play an instrument (that voice was enough) but he did have a charismatic stage presence, self-assured and clearly enjoying himself.

"The next song is called "Friendly Parasite." It's a love story," he cracked.

Leech or not, it was a beautiful song.

"In the Ring" was melancholy, allowing him to clasp his hands, sing to the heavens and emote along with the lyrics.

They did a song about "The Big Plan," saying it was for anyone who ever felt alienated.

Isn't that everyone at some point or another?

They were going to finish with a brand spankin' new song, they said, but first decided to do a gag song, as they called it.

A friend had written a song about her new baby. "We took that song and I funked it up. Then the band stank it up," Danny said with a grin, warning us about the language in the song.

It was funky and hysterical.

Like all good Monday nights should be.