Take a Chance on Me

I have found a man who doesn't watch TV and doesn't have a cell phone and as if that weren't enough, he's a musician.

Be still, my heart.

Granted, he's married and not the least interested in me, but it does my heart good to know that men like that exist.

Tonight he was playing a show at the Camel, so you can be sure I got there in time to get a ticket before the show sold out.

Waiting for things to begin, a friend approached me, lamenting that I hadn't been at the last Secretly Y'All, Tell Me a Story event ("Not to call you out, but..."), an evening she helps coordinate.

I explained that a hot date had kept me otherwise occupied, to which she responded knowingly, "I understand completely." There's a friend.

She shared her very own Jonathan Richman story, which took place the night before she was flying to Spain and involved him giving her a shout-out from the stage.

You can be sure she became a life-long fan that night.

Tonight she, like me and all the other people squeezed into the Camel, was just happy to have another chance to hear from the man who made an indelible mark with that first Modern Lovers album back in 1976 and has continued on doing things exactly his own way ever since.

With no fanfare at all, not so much as an introduction, Jonathan appeared from the back of the room, making his way to the stage and causing applause and shouts in his wake.

Onstage, he called to the sound guy. "Brendan or Brian, you asked if I needed anything. There's air conditioning going on up here. Turn that off. I don't do well in air conditioning."

My head was about to explode since I had no idea there were men out there who, like me, don't care for A/C.

First off, he laid down the ground rules, saying that he and drummer Tommy had played concert halls, but this wasn't one of those. "We may play quiet, but we don't expect you to be quiet. This is a party!"

While this got a lot of cheering, as soon as the duo began playing, everyone shut the hell up.

He began with "No One was Like Vermeer," the kind of song only Jonathan Richman would write.

Back in the days of old Rembrandt
Back in the time of Jan Steen
All of them giants of shadow and light
But no one was like Vermeer

Yes, all that's true and as an art history geek, I love hearing songs about Old Masters, but who else writes about such things?

In between verses he free-styled about the old days specifially the '30s and the '50s, somehow weaving in Kotex, Vermeer's daughter and women getting the vote, pausing finally to say, "Let's see what Tommy's up to on drums."

While we watched Tommy, he went to the back of the stage and took a swig from his silver thermos.

Water, I'd bet you anything.

Beginning with the uber-romantic lyric, "I asked the heavens to send me a girl who could challenge me inside," he did "I Took a Chance on Her," winning over every female in the room.

He sang in Italian, Spanish and French (eliciting a huge grin from the French musician standing in front of me) and reminded us that this was a party so we should be dancing, leading by example.

With his ever-present humor, he used a song lyric, "I know what," to segue into a mini-rant, saying, "I know what. What? You still haven't turned off the air conditioning!"

Putting his guitar down, he grinned and said, "We'll wait."

Owner Rand came up on stage to feel the air and left to turn it off despite fans calling out that they were hot.

Sorry, folks, Jonathan (and I, for that matter) don't like air conditioning.

That rectified, he went on, his guitar playing getting as much applause and hooting approval as his clever lyrics and singing.

And speaking of clever, "Keith Richards" was a hilarious tribute to the emaciated-looking guitarist with a nod to his velvet blazers, dirty jeans and ultimate cool.

Besides sliding in the riff from "Brown Sugar" a couple of times, he sang tribute to Keith's "internal melodies and minor sixth harmonies." It was brilliant.

It took barely a couple of notes before everyone recognized and reacted to "I was Dancing in the  Lesbian Bar" and Jonathan began swiveling his hips like he was atop a table in that lesbian bar while the crowd sang the lyrics back to him.

Everyone got so into it that he left the stage, dancing, almost limbo-ing he bent so far backwards, as he made his way through the room and the crowd parted to watch him pass, everyone clapping in time as he shimmied, shook bells and grinned like a kid.

Ditto with "Bohemia," where we did call and response to the chorus for his story of trying to make it in the big city.

Pretentious artwork in hand
They showed me the door to Bohemia

That song led to a reference about talking back to the Velvet Underground, sending him off about Lou Reed, whom he referred to as "my teenage hero."

He said that when he'd first seen the band, Nico was touring with them but not singing and Andy Warhol was there, too.

"I had to be near him," Jonathan said, "So I walked up and confessed to him that I didn't understand his art. And bless his heart, he said, kid, sure you do. He was a friend to youth."

Finishing the song, he told us goodnight and got a rousing ovation, only to stay for one more.

And just to seal the lock on my heart were his final words after he put on his jacket and put his guitar in its case to walk off stage.

"May we not have an air-conditioned life!"

Hallelujah and pass the deodorant. You gotta love someone who is completely comfortable in their eccentricity.

Or at least I do.

Marital status aside, Jonathan and I are practically soul mates.