Fill Up the Flask, Son

Some nights are so Richmond, it's impossible not to be in love with this city.

Like on an exquisitely beautiful, fall-feeling evening under a deepening blue sky watching chimney swifts swoop overhead in the courtyard next to Quirk Gallery.

But, wait.

As if the weather, location and scenery weren't plenty to feed the soul, there's more.

The occasion for this gathering three blocks from my house was a Huckiddy puppet show.

If that doesn't sound like too much fun for a Saturday night, then you've obviously never been to one.

I've been to three so I know to count on puppet sibling rivalry, death and music, not necessarily in that order. Complete with beer and popcorn for sale.

What I hadn't expected was how many friends would be there.

My favorite J-Ward couple.  The bowling birthday boy from last Sunday. The fetching GLAP hosts, one's hair newly banged. A couple of WRIR DJs, both with gigs tonight.

For that matter, you couldn't swing a dead cat without hitting a musician I knew.

The entertainment began with one of my favorites, Dave Watkins, doing his incomparable sound layering with dulcitar and drum.

While he wowed the crowd looping his intricate melodies, I noticed that some people had brought their own fun.

One brought wine in a small bottle labeled 100% juice (not a lie), another had a silver flask she took nips from.

It was all very civilized.

Hard as it must be to follow Dave, Josh Small did a grand job by employing a cartoon theme (a nod to the puppets) for his song selections.

"My Favorite Dream" came from a WWII-era Mickey Mouse short and two songs were drawn from "Robin Hood," his personal Disney favorite.

At the end of one, "Love," he wound the song down by singing progressively softer, eventually calling out, "Analog fade-out!' to the amusement of the audio geeks in the audience.

Dave came back for a couple of songs and then it was show time.

Chris Hulbert and his sister Cat manned the puppets while a quartet of bass, cello, guitar and trumpet provided the musical accompaniment.

And in case you can't imagine it, listening to the aching strings of Josh's cello or the mournful wail of Bob's trumpet in a brick-walled courtyard where the sound has nowhere to go but skyward is a distinct Richmond pleasure.

As is usually the case, the puppet show began with Huckle complaining and his sister, F'funia, having none of it.

Huckle's first complaint was that he lived in the ghetto where all the people in his neighborhood were hot, 20-something college students, a line that reduced me and my J-Ward neighbors to near tears with its familiarity.

Except we would never call J-Ward a ghetto.

But F'funia never lets Huckle feel too sorry for himself, bringing him up short by reminding him about the time he shot her three times.

"I pulled myself up, son!" she told him to an explosion of laughter.

She soon discerns that Huckle's problem is that his heart is gone and maybe that's why he's sad and tired.

Songs abound and the band's contribution to the unfolding story is considerable.

The two bicker back and forth, about his nicknames for her (babe, chunky, fatty fat), about finding a pig or old lady heart to replace his and about how a "whatever" attitude prevents Huckle from seeing the humor in life.

With their big red lips, expressive hands and Huckle's earring (mirroring puppeteer Chris'), the puppets interact so naturally it's easy to forget there are two people behind the stage busy every second making that happen.

"That's funny. It's not super-hilarious, but it's funny," F'funia tells Huckle at one point.

Actually, a Huckiddy puppet show is super-hilarious pretty much start to finish.

Well, except for the heartbreaking moments, but those just make the whole show feel more real.

When you're sitting outdoors under the stars laughing at foul-mouthed puppets and listening to a quartet play into the cool night air, maybe a reality check is in order.

The beauty of being reminded of reality is just how lucky we are to be in Richmond where a sublime confluence like tonight happens surprisingly often.

Just another Saturday night in the ghetto, kids.

Back in the Saddle Again

Not every puppet show ends in death, but you can pretty much count on it with Huckiddy Puppets.

For my first night back, I couldn't have asked for a better way to jump back into things than with a show at Gallery 5. It was puppetry, it was music and it was three blocks from home.

A nice crowd was forming when I arrived and music was being DJ'd courtesy of Sara Gosett, which always guarantees stellar vintage pop. I won't even mention the adorable mod '60s dress she had on.

Among the gems she played were Nancy Sinatra, the Hollies and, my personal favorite, an Indonesian cover of "Dizzy."  Oh, yes she did.

Richmond's best flamenco guitarist Frankzig opened the show with three songs showcasing his flying fingers, evocative singing and rhythmic foot stomping. Even with not a drop of Spanish blood in me, I always love seeing him perform.

When the puppet show began, it was with a group of local talents for musical accompaniment. Ed Trask was on drums, Jessica Blanks on violin, Tom Brickman on bass and Chris Ramming on guitar.

The show, put on by the brother/sister team of Chris Milk Hulbert and Cat Spur Hulbert, was about, what else, a brother and sister.

Tonight's plot centered on the sister trying to find the brother, only to learn that he has run away to escape people.

But a Huckiddy puppet show is not your mother's puppet show. When she finds him hiding out, she demands to know where he's been.

"I bugged the f**k out," he admits.

"That's rude as shit," she admonishes him. "It sounds all hip, but it's really rude and hurtful." The puppet language may be updated, but the sibling sentiment is timeless.

And what mother would approve of a puppet of a male body part who keeps suggesting lewd things?

A long intermission followed the first act and then two members of Zac Hryciak and the Jungle Beat took the stage.

Zac, looking sharp in a Spinal Tap t-shirt, and Jessica, minus her violin, said they were going to play a bunch of new songs and then immediately qualified it by saying, "Oh, but we've actually played this one before."

It didn't matter. When you've got a voice as impressive as Zac's and backing vocals as pretty as Jessica's, it's all good, old or new.

The audience responded with great enthusiasm, making me wonder if some people might be hearing them for the first time.

After yet another intermission, Frankzig came back and the crowd welcomed him warmly, now knowing what to expect.

Finally, the feuding brother and sister's antics resumed.  Turns out that the reason Huckle, the brother, had escaped was because he was an agoraphobic hobo, a phrase which got used to great hilarity several times.

As things were winding down, sister F'funia explained family dynamics to her thick-headed brother.

"That's what families are about. You love each other until you can't stand it anymore. Then you go away.Then you come back and do it again."

That's wisdom out of the mouths of big-lipped puppets.

Despite sharing sibling wisdom, Huckle ends up dead after a loud bang because of fireworks. So all ends normally for a Huckiddy puppet show.

And for me, life returns to normal with an evening of music, humor, art and universal truths.

Absent ocean soundtrack aside, it's good to be back.

I Love Lily!

Saturday night I spent at Gallery 5 for the All the Saints Theater Company's Spaghetti Dinner and Show, organized by one of my favorite people, Lily Lamberta. Lily is the amazing artist who creates all those larger-than-life puppets, like the ones in the Halloween parade and the mounted heads made entirely of recycled materials in her recent one-woman show at Metro Gallery.

As usual, the evening starts with a buffet dinner of spaghetti, spinach, fresh bread and aioli made by Lily and company. Then everyone re-convenes downstairs for several hours of entertainment. Chris Milk's Huckiddy Puppet Theatre's performance had no puppets this time, but was dark, funny and thought-provoking, as usual. Or maybe it was just its topic of "my life sucks" that appealed to me specifically. The hilarious Herschel Stratego had everyone laughing with his clever songs about women, vegans, stalking and girlfriend rules (and his fireman pajamas were a nice touch). Punk Sinatra's goldfish in a bowl alone was worth the price of admission.

The headliner was DC's Son Cosita Seria, a high-energy trio who played traditional Son Jarocha music (essentially country music of the people). It only took about two songs before chairs were cleared and the audience was stomping, dancing and swaying to the mixture of Spanish, African and indigenous music filling the space. I don't think there was a single person in the room not smiling ear to ear.

Food, a variety of entertainment and dancing...now that's a recipe for a great Saturday night.