A Little Wisp of a Scherzo

You start slow and you build on a hot Wednesday evening.

Unlike last week, this week's happy hour at the Anderson Gallery required no brain power.

No talent for interpreting art and music, no ability to read into paintings of historical context.

Just the break I needed to really spend some time looking at the new exhibit, Jacob Lawrence's "The Harriet Tubman Series," and take the time to read all of Lawrence's captions written for the 31 pieces.

As if the paintings weren't painfully and exquisitely evocative of Tubman's life, the text he wrote was every bit as strong.

I took my time reading them and when I walked out of the gallery, there was a friend already sitting with beer in hand.

Like me, he wanted a good seat for GeNDeRS, the duo of singer Nelly Kate and video artist Michele Seippel.

As we sat chatting about his upcoming vacation (a much deserved three weeks), more friends came in and we noticed an unusually high percentage of babies present.

Or as one music-loving friend observed, "I feel naked without a baby!"

The performance began when Nelly emerged from the back room singing a capella and walking toward the front.

Michele's live animation was right there with her, showing on the wall she was approaching.

Once up front, Nelly began recording herself and looping, playing a keyboard and twisting knobs to layer sound at the same time Michele was layering video.

A few babies got restless, one kid licked a Popsicle while mesmerized by the video imagery and the rest of the room was rapt.

Nelly Kate, wowing people with her little girl voice and dense sound since 2011, at least in Richmond.

The addition of Michele's visuals made it even more trance-like than usual.

I thought it made for a very cool happy hour.

Sustenance was next courtesy of Mama J's right here in my 'hood and I arrived just minutes before the place filled up as if on cue.

The bartender recognized me, asked if I wanted the usual (fried chicken) and inquired about my side (collards).

Soon two guys joined me at my end of the bar and the one next to me said hello.

When he was asked for his order, he wanted catfish, but nuggets not a fillet, which aren't on the menu.

And just one fillet, not two.

But as soon as my plate arrived, he called our server over and changed his order to chicken like mine.

It wasn't long before he had regrets, though and, for the second time, changed his order back to catfish nuggets, this time two fillets cut up.

The server checked with the kitchen to see if this was possible and came back to tell the guy that they would cut up one fillet into nuggets but the second one would be whole.

"So you're telling me that's my only choice?" the customer asked, clearly not satisfied.

It was.

Personally, I think the kitchen was putting their foot down, not wanting to be back there making nuggets for this guy.

Or maybe they were tired of doing nuggets after Broad Appetit, although they did win the "To Die For" award for best entree for those very nuggets..

I know because I could see the trophy sitting right there behind the bar.

Fed and full, I wandered down 2 Street to the Speakeasy beside the Hippodrome for Pairs, the second cousin of Classical Revolution.

That's the group that's dedicated to bringing classical music to your local bar, restaurant and coffee shop, worthy aims all.

Last time the pairing had been classical and jazz and tonight's was classical and rock.

Once again, we found coasters sitting on the tables, this month's labeled "Membership Card," with the evening's program on it.

As far as how it came about, it was all about the bass.

Upright bass player Todd of My Darling Fury had mentioned that he had an arrangement of Brahms String Sextet written with a double bass part to replace one of the cellos.

Classical Revolution organizer Ellen ran with that idea, having him perform it with two violins, two violas and a cello and then follow it with a set by My Darling Fury.

Brilliant.

The four-movement Brahms piece had plenty of space in a room with 20' ceilings and the only counterpoint to it was the sound of a cocktail shaker being mixed behind the bar.

When they finished, a woman came over and joined me at my table, beer in hand and eager to chat.

"What movement was your favorite?" she asked after telling me she played cello, but "not on that level."

I hadn't considered it until she asked, but my brain told me it had been the third, the scherzo.

She liked the second, the andante, better for the recurring theme that wound its way through it.

Frankly, I was flattered that anyone would even try to talk music to me given my appalling lack of musical comprehension.

She deferred to me, however, when it came to My Darling Fury, since I'd seen them before and she hadn't.

It took an interminable time for the sound man to get it right for them but once the band started, all was forgiven.

Singer Danny has a fabulous voice, emotive and strong, and whether singing "Friendly Parasite" or about "Take her home to Mama," the songs were melodic and tightly executed.

On one song bass player Todd began beating on the back of his bass, causing a fellow bass player to holler from the bar, "Spank it, son!"

Like I said, it was all about the bass tonight.

Being the language geek that I am, I loved "Spilled Milk," full of American idioms  like "big boys don't cry."

During a slow song, there were suddenly three dancers, one woman and two guys, performing in the space between the stage and the crowd.

It was totally unexpected and a few people near me laughed in amusement, so I guess modern dance wasn't their thing.

"You guys thought you were coming to see a rock show, didn't you?" the guitarist joked afterwards.

They did "The End of the World," saying, "We like to place our love songs in different settings and this one's at the end of it all."

The viola and violin players, complete with music stands, and the dancers returned for the closing song, "Magic Creature," making for a melding of the evening's pairs or perhaps a metaphor for something bigger.

I just know it was really beautiful.

My final stop of the evening was Gallery 5 for, wait for it, more music, although I'd missed the first two bands.

I made it in time for Fort Worth's War Party, who were giving it their rocking all in front of a surprisingly small crowd.

That said, there were so many good shows tonight, it was hard to know where to be.

By the time they finished their set (including a plea for somewhere to sleep and smoke), the headliner, locals Hoax Hunters, were up against the clock.

Frontman and guitarist PJ surprised the hell out of me by taking off his hat (a first), obviously anticipating a hard and fast set.

"We're not going to waste your time. We have eleven minutes, so let's do this!" he yelled before the band careened into four or five songs.

It's not every band who could cover so much material and still be finished before Gallery 5's noise cut-off kicks in.

But then it's not every night I can hear everything from classical to punk with minimalist pop and chamber rock in between, either.

Shoot, I consider this night well spanked.