You Can Do Anything

The beauty of Richmond is that there's always something worth doing.

It's just another Tuesday night, right? The students have high-tailed it out of town with classes being cancelled, the suburbanites are holed up in their junior McMansions, afraid to venture out, and with everything going on this week, it's easy to throw up your hands and say why bother.

But then I see that Dave Watkins is playing at Black Iris, not even three blocks from my house and I know a perfect Tuesday night has fallen into my lap. The crowd is definitely smaller than usual - maybe 40 people - but it's a quality bunch.

I barely have time to say hello to the professor who's curated the gallery show when Dave, his dulcitar and his massive pedal board begin filling the gallery with something I've never heard from him before. Dynamic to the max and very controlled, hearing this different sound from him is a wonder for long-time fans like me.

With one of his unique light shows playing behind him, Dave has curated a total experience.

By the end of his set, there are elements of his usual improvisational sound with lots of looping, but it also feels like we are experiencing a subtle shift in his musical direction and that's exciting. It is definitely some of, if not the, best playing I've heard out of the dozens of his performances I've attended.

I only wish more out-of-towners were in the house tonight to help spread the gospel of Dave Watkins.

During the break, I get a chance to mingle. The photographer and I talk about Fall breathing down our necks. The busker thanks me for the article I wrote about her, saying it brought in a much larger crowd to her last show. The cook says business is Carytown has been painfully slow and we commiserate over the plethora of available parking in our beloved J-Ward this week.

"It's emptier than when the students are on break!" he laments. It's true.

Next up is tonight' touring band, the Andrew Weathers Ensemble, a singer/guitarist accompanied by a cellist. Of note is that they are from Oakland and are currently both barefoot on stage.

For their set, Dave puts on a nature slide show and soon leaves blow in the breeze and birds flit across Andrew's face as he sings.

Theirs is a kind of mournful experimental folk with the sadness of the cello matched only by Andrew's weary-sounding vocals. It's a fusion of indie and folk with just enough hints of Appalachia and drone. Suddenly I understand why they're barefoot.

I already know why I'm here. Beautiful music is being made in this unnaturally quiet city tonight.

Those who bother to venture out are rewarded. We are the lucky ones.