Nights Go By

It was just as humid inside as out.

At least when I arrived, Ipanema was a tad sticky given the recent spate of thunderstorms, with a puddle near the front door that required jumping for entry.

It was just to keep out the un-worthy.

Inside, I took a prime bar stool for Live at Ipanema and watched as so many familiar faces rolled in.

The scientist, the poet, the beekeeper, the new mother. People kept coming in and so many of them I knew.

Everyone was in attendance because playing tonight was Jonathan Vassar who'd been tied up for a good long while, what with his new son and all.

But tonight the wee one was at home and he was all about the drinking and cigarette songs.

Starting with "Jefferson," a song he said he wrote when he was 20,  it was an evening of his mournful voice and downbeat songs.

In other words, Jonathan Vassar perfection.

After the first song, he told us he was now 33, but had been "sirred" the other day, clearly a traumatic moment for him.

"I had on a skeleton t-shirt and jeans and this guy said 'sir' to me," he complained. His guess was that he had a "new dad" look that gave him away.

It happens to the best of us.

After doing several songs originally written in 2003, he told us about his hazardous day cleaning house.

Apparently it led to a burnt finger and a cut lip. "Everyday life is dangerous," he explained oh-so seriously.

He did several songs co-written with Grant Hunnicutt, like the evocative "Bay Bridge," about how even steel-clad structures can be moved.

"I'll tune because I'm a hot person to  begin with," he said comically before realizing how that sounded.

At one point, he acknowledged his beaming wife, Antonia, saying, "Sitting over there is my lovely wife and next to her is Karen, who recently had a birthday, which she's probably still celebrating."

Affirmative nod from me.

"Happy birthday," he said before asking if there were any questions or comments.

Antonia had one.

"Is your set list written on a baby photo?"

Actually, it was written on a piece of paper sitting next to a photo of his son, he explained.

"Pass it around!" someone called and he smilingly obliged.

It was that kind of show, despite the drinking and cigarette songs.

"Days Go By" followed, with the memorable lyric, "That was the day I called you mine. Have you noticed how the days go by?"

Have I ever.

I wasn't sure what he meant when he said, "This is my Anousheh-dependent song. I wasn't going to play it unless she came," but when I saw Anousheh crying midway through, I understood.

He closed with the crowd favorite, "Catch Me if You Can," saying, "These were songs I wrote. I hope you like them."

We liked them so much we called for another, with the bartender calling the loudest, and he graciously sang one.

A warm basement on a wet summer night listening to an hour of sad songs sung beautifully.

Thank you, sir.