On Richmond Time

I should know better.

You'd think years of going to music shows would teach me to be less punctual. But the FB event page was firm. "Music starts at 8 and is over at 10." Clear enough, right?

Wrong. My long-time music buddy Andrew had recently written a piece for RVA News pondering why live music never starts on time in Richmond. But since I'd read it, I'd been to three shows that had not only started on time, but I'd missed part of each one because I hadn't quite bought in to the revised start time ethos.

Tonight I intended to miss nothing at Black Iris and instead wound up with 45 minutes on my hand before the first band, Cherry Pitts, took the stage. I was put to good use, though, playing door (wo)man, taking people's money, checking their IDs and marking their hand with my official Sharpie to help out a friend who kept getting called away from his front door position.

In between, we talked about how Richmond's tardy shows punish the punctual and reward those operating on Richmond time. He brought up how some bands never evolve, musically or personally, using GWAR as an exception. A girl came in and told me she loved my hair, always nice to hear.

Two girls came in, paid their money and were about to leave the vestibule and enter the venue where Cherry Pitts were playing when one turned and asked me if the show was almost over. When I said that the band was on their fourth song and that they were the first band, she looked relieved and surprised. She knew she was late.

I didn't have the heart to tell her that the pop punk band was only doing a seven-song set, a fact. I knew only because one of the members had borrowed the Sharpie to write the set list and I'd marveled at its brevity. But of course, punk songs are always short, fast and loud, as the Pitts knew.

And by loud, I mean over-amplified to the max (this from the woman who long ago lost her hearing by attending far too many shows), making it tough to fully appreciate their well-executed music. When my friend asked if I needed ear plugs, I pulled mine out of my bag but also stayed in the vestibule for their set.

You know it's loud when I take precautions.

It was an interesting crowd. A bartender I know came in, commenting that he hadn't seen me in a while. A talented songwriter arrived, proving that he was 30 by showing me his ID. A cute musician couple showed up. Best outfit award went to a girl in black and white zigzag shorts with an aqua blue bustier topped by a big blue bow across her chest.

I did make it inside for Digital Leather's synth-based set, though. The five of them didn't fit on the stage, so the singer/guitarist stood in front of it, face to face with the crowd.

Directly in front of him was a slightly older guy who'd arrived almost as early as I had, disappeared and then resurfaced just as the music started. Once Digital Leather began playing, this guy proved to be an unstoppable dancer.

He didn't take up a lot of space, but he about shook his head loose from his neck with every drumbeat and his limp arms were in complete service to the wild convulsions of his torso. It was truly impressive to see and I'm going to go out on a limb and say it wasn't his first DL show.

After a while, a few other people began dancing around him, moving across the floor flailing, while he stayed rooted in place dancing. They lost energy after one song while he didn't stop until the band did and by then, they were soaked in sweat, the drummer's long, straight hair plastered to his skull.

And you know what? As promised, the show was over right around 10-ish. For people like Andrew who claim to be old and have day jobs, this must have been very good news, while for some of us, it was more like, okay, what do we do now?

Maybe RVA is getting the hang of this live music thing after all.