You Look Like a Rock Star

Top five reasons why it's not unusual to find me out on a First Friday (besides hearing Evan Nasteff pretend to sing "It's Not Unusual"):

1. "The Electric Football Game Art Show at ADA Gallery, where every other guy walking in said some version of, "I used to play that." If they are to believed, we have finally reached male geek critical mass, not that that's a bad thing.

Highlight: Art Monk #81 and the cheerleaders. The guy making the bowel-shaking noises sending tiny electric men across  the actual electric football game table was icing on the cake.

2. Drummer Nate Rappole aka Gull curating the "Drum Baby" show at Gallery 5. From Haleh Pedram's "Chair Drum" (the chair had a skin stretched over the frame's seat and people were playing it) to Bonnie Mango's "Gift to Nathaniel Rappole" (a dashiki with holes cut in it wherein she sewed tiny metal gongs) to Adam Juresko's "Married with Children" (a collage in two parts of a drummer with birds in place of a head), it was all about the drum imagery.

Unexpected bonus: a smaller photography show in the back room of Richmond parks a century ago, Monroe Park looking toward Franklin Street with a farmhouse and trees where the dowager Prestwold now sits.

3. Band labeling. After walking my companion back to his car, I headed back to G5 for music, hoping to catch Antiphons' set because they describe their music as "sad farm rock," possibly the best music genre ever.

There, I find friends - the brilliant musician doing the light show, the bearded man who makes clothing, the complimentary neighbor, the scientific-minded neighbor and the community builder/musician who tells me that my blog posts about his shows touch him ("It always takes me to that happy place you are") - but I have just missed Antiphons's set.

When I spot the handsome drummer I haven't seen in eons, I tell him about my futile quest to hear sad farm rock. He's as impressed with the descriptor as I am, vowing to come up with something as pithy for his band. When I hear that he's not seen Dumb Waiter, the band setting up now, I insist he come up with something to describe them after their set.

Given their genre-blending style, sometimes spacey, sometimes mathy-y, often funky, it won't be easy, yet he nails it. "Ornette Cole-metal," he announces. It's brilliant.

Reason to need a smoke afterwards: With guitar, bass, sax and drums, Dumb Waiter manages to get the crowd locked into a groove and eventually all riled up, only to suddenly change tempo and mood, leaving us hanging on for the next section, not sure when they're going to come back and finish us off.

It's exquisite musical torture.

4. Pop music hamming. Lip Sync RVA, three colors of Jello shots and the casts of the last two plays I've seen: "The Altruists" and "Psycho Beach Party" (wearing leis, it should be noted).

Vegetable duels, a Disney tune with blue sock puppet back-up singers, Dan Cimo playing the strict mother for "Girls Just Want to Have Fun," pearl earrings swinging in his lobes, and REM's "It's the End of the World" with singer Evan Nasteff wearing a sandwich board sign (Front: This is the end. Back: This is the other end) as he emotes.

Drop dead gorgeous Jessi Johnson doesn't even have to know the words because her hips and hands say as much as mouthing words. Perky Brent Gallahan in coral lipstick and pumps also fudges and no one cares due to the adorable factor.

Best sugar rush: During a thigh-straddling rendition of "Call Me Maybe," I recognize Chandler Hubbard, not just from "The Altruists" but because earlier he'd offered the bartender a cookie from the box his Mom meant to send for opening night but forgot. The bartender says no, so I ask for it instead. Cookies and Jello shots, that's a thing, right?

5. Late night J-Ward strolling. On my way home, I manage to run into not only the neighborhood's cutest middle-aged beagle and his majestic owner out for a post-work walk, but also the soft-spoken master of the kitchen, arriving home to his dog and girlfriend, coincidentally a friend of mine.

It's the end of this night as I know it, and I feel fine.