Sounds Very Karen

It was a clamorous evening.

My neighborhood record store, Steady Sounds, was hosting two bands for our listening and dancing pleasure.

The three-block walk over was unexpectedly scenic when fat snowflakes began falling.

Could it really be only three days ago that I wore shorts on my morning walk?

Inside the store, a crowd was growing and Hoax Hunters was about to begin.

Lead singer and guitarist PJ warned us that it was going to be loud. "I have earplugs if you need them and I won't be offended if you take them. Tim will be, though."

Tim was the bass player (and also the drummer for the Diamond Center) and none of us wanted to disappoint him.

For the record, only one person took PJ up on his earplugs offer.

Hoax Hunters are loud, no question about it, but they're also exciting to watch because all three of them are having such a good time.

In the middle of one song, just as the drum solo took off, PJ stepped over by the record bins and began browsing the stacks until he was needed again.

You don't block a drum break in Hoax Hunters, it seems.

Tim's parents were in the house and introduced, waving nicely to those of us crowded around them.

Their songs are fast and hard, not long, and neither was their set so just as everyone's ears were adjusting to the volume, PJ introduced their last song.

"This is off our EP, which isn't a record, but is available for download. Sorry, Steady Sounds."

Of course the irony of that is that PJ and his cute wife are inveterate record collectors.

During the break, I tested my hearing by chatting up friends about the WRIR party, particularly enjoying telling a musician friend that local band Dead Fame had personalized beach balls at the show.

The WTF? look on his face as his eyes widened was the comic high point of the afternoon.

PJ said that after the show he was going to Don't Look Back to eat and kindly invited me to join him and a friend, but I explained that I was going to Edo's Squid for a mutual friend's birthday dinner.

"Sounds very Karen," PJ noted.

Actually, it didn't because I'm not much of an Edo's Squid type at all, but the birthday girl had made the restaurant choice, not me.

E.D. Sedgwick, a D.C. band. came out next and immediately set the tone in their all-white ensembles.

The theme carried over to instruments, with the guitarist playing a black and white double-neck guitar and the bass player playing a white bass.

It carried over to the two female singers, one of whom was black and one white.

The only thing out of place so far as I could tell was that the drummer had a guitar tattooed on his arm.

The band's music sounded post-punk but the addition of the two female singers took it into the power pop range as the band rocked out for their all-too brief set.

The rhythm section anchored the whole thing magnificently.

"Hey, has Richmond changed in the past couple of years?" bandleader Justin called out to the adoring crowd, several of whom danced through every song (Janet, I'm looking at you).

"Yes," someone called out. "I'm speaking for everyone."

"Well, this song is for everyone who liked it better before," he challenged. "It's called "Rock the Boat."

And it did, indeed, rock the record store and everyone in it.

He also gave a shout out to the drummer, saying, "Let's have a round of applause for Sammy, who's not really in our band."

Well, that explained a couple of things- the guitar tattoo and the presence of a second guy since E.D, Sedgwick is known to be just Justin and all women.

Hell, he used to perform in drag until he got tired of wearing a dress (can't relate; I love wearing dresses).

I got the sense that everyone in the room would have liked them to go on playing, but an in-store appearance only lasts so long before the band has to move on.

I did stuff some cash in the pitcher for their time and checked out their spanking new album, "We Wear White" before heading out into the evening.

Stop #2 was Edo's Squid where a VCU game made for horrific traffic near the Squid.

Inside, the parking situation caused our group of nine to assemble slowly and with Edo's strict seating policy, we spent 45 minutes being in the way of busboys as we crowded around the bar while our empty table sat tucked into a corner waiting for us.

The clamor of punk was well-matched in the incessant din that is Edo's during dinner service.

On the plus, side, I met a bunch of interesting people with whom I was about to have dinner.

Once at the table, we began the Edo's traditional "family-style negotiation" process required when a group is sharing dishes.

Eventually an accord was reached and the food began arriving.

Squid in lemon, arugula, garlic butter and pine nuts. Sausage with polenta and white beans. Penne with mushrooms. Spaghetti with white clam sauce. Whole red snapper (they were out of Branzino). Brocoli rabe with penne.

I'd chosen a seat on the "hearty eating" side of the table as opposed to the facing side who mainly ate pasta and made us feel like gluttons.

And both sides were okay with that.

There was an interesting architect on my left and we spent a fair amount of time talking about the local restaurant scene.

I tried having a cross-table conversation about the Colloquial Orchestra at the WRIR party, but the distance cross the large round table made it challenging.

But the birthday dinner was great fun, with too much food, lots of new conversational partners and a radiant birthday girl celebrating with friends.

We even did the requisite group picture although my head somehow didn't make it into the frame.

When we finally said goodnight, the birthday girl was heading to Balliceaux to dance her birthday butt off.

My next stop was Fat Dragon to check out their Saturday night DJ scene.

The place wasn't nearly as crazed as the last time I'd been in, but maybe that's just because few Richmonders eat dinner at 10:30.

There were plenty of drinkers, though, as the DJ played an indie dance mix that could have used a little more energy given that it was Saturday night.

I became one with a glass of Honora Vera Garnacha and a look around.

A couple came in and sat down next to me, the guy complaining about the weather.

"I'm from Chicago and I hate this cold, " he said, smiling and rubbing his hands together.

He and his partner had just come from Richmond Triangle Players' show of  "Before It Hits Home" and recommended it highly for the range of emotions depicted.

Random theater recommendations are always welcome.

He inquired what I'd been up to like we were old friends and I shared my story of the family-style meal with him.

The DJ was perched high on a catwalk overlooking the bar, far away from anyone wanting to make requests.

Intentional or accidental?

The best part was the volume; it was loud enough to make for a definitive vibe but still allow for easy conversation.

I may just be back to see if I can hit on a DJ more to my musical taste on a Saturday night.

A good beat you can dance to trumps clamor every time. Just ask the birthday girl.

Out of the Loop and That's How I Like It

I don't appreciate Edo's Squid like most people do.There, I said it.

But then, I'm not a big pasta person. After a while, I get tired of every dish being heavy on garlic and I love garlic. The decibel level is the absolute highest in Richmond and conversations must be endlessly repeated.

And the speed with which the staff clears tables and seats diners during peak periods when the line is down the stairs is excruciatingly slow. Like tonight, there can be a dozen people in line and five empty tables and no one is being seated for half an hour. Huh?

But as my dinner companion reminded me, they do fish really well and I do love fish done right. And he was taking me out for my birthday, so I asked him to choose the destination and he's exceedingly fond of the Squid.

So there we were, shouting our conversation and trying to decide what to eat from a  list on which skate wing had already been 86'd. I would have enjoyed some skate wing for my birthday.

A bottle of Venica Collio Pinot Grigio "Jerera" with its long finish bought us time to decide what to eat while the room bustled around us.

Apparently we'd arrived at precisely the right moment because the trio who arrived just after us were not seated for a full hour after we were. They looked starved and we felt guilty about that but it had nothing to do with us.

It was hard not to enjoy the early evening light coming through the windows and bringing the spring evening inside, but the screaming child I could have done without.

I was sharing with my friend a couple of good stories (the stranger asking me to dance on the sidewalk and the stranger sliding the postcard into my lap at the concert), but he's such a cynic that all he could conclude was, "Men always have a strategy to get laid."

Nothing like being a buzz kill for my tales of serendipitous romantic encounters.

We ordered arugula salads with shaved Parmesan and I got one of the night's specials, the softshelled crabs.

Opting out of the usual pasta side, we left it up to the kitchen, who delivered a bowl of flash-cooked snow peas with a hint of soy sauce and oil to them. Major Asian yum.

My friend commented on how strange it was to be in a restaurant so crazily busy and not know a single soul, so of course it was only a matter of minutes before someone I know showed up at the table to say hello and talk of the danger of late night get-togethers (my impending birthday celebration).

For a change, I was chided for not eating more than I did, so different than the usual accolades about my hearty and unladylike appetite. I pleaded last night's rare rib-eye as a factor still in my diminished capacity. I guess I'm just not a rib-eye kind of a girl.

But my Maryland childhood makes me most certainly a crab kind of a girl and these were seasoned and fried up perfectly, so I was very content.

Unlike the unfortunate people still waiting for a table in a room with as many empty as full tables when we left. I just don't get it.

But yes, my friend, the fish was really good. There, I said it.

Telling All at Edo's

If I say my friend and I about froze to death during lunch and left with major garlic breath, can you guess where we ate? Of course that would be everyone's favorite Edo's Squid (everyone does not include me; favorite is a mighty big word), an easy walk from work for her.

This lunch was a rescheduling of last week's postponed happy hour, which was a makeup for the week before's canceled plans. She's a really good friend, knows all the skeletons in my closet and we both feel so much better after getting together.

By this time, we should also know better than to try to cover multiple weeks' worth of life during lunch, even one that lasts two hours...especially without wine (which she actually ordered but the waiter forgot).

I was first there when she breezed in, kissed me on the head, sat down and said, "Okay. What?" expectantly. I laid it out and she reacted more calmly than any of my friends so far, although with just as much surprise and delight at the news.

It's pretty obvious that every single one of my friends has been of the same opinion about my life, just waiting for me to get it. Got it!

And because she's known me for so long, she needed to know the factors that caused the change of heart. Girlfriends ask the best questions; guy friends puff up their chests and tell you they were right all along. And sometimes, sure enough, they were. You guys want me to shout it from the rooftops?

Then we ate. Lunch was crostini with white beans and arugula followed by penne with broccoli rabe, olive oil, garlic, ricotta and parmigiana. I've no doubt but I'll be sweating out garlic essence tomorrow, not that I have a problem with that (just saying I'd definitely avoid me on my walk tomorrow).

Our discussion of me finally turning a page led to an impassioned discussion of my friend needing to do the same but in other areas of her life. I'm hardly one to espouse change after being stuck in the same place for so long, but if I can step up the plate, then I know my multi-talented friend could. Me as role model? It boggles the mind.

We asked about chocolate options for dessert but given our frozen fingers, chocolate gelato held little appeal. Friend requested hot tea or decaf, neither of which they had, so we settled for tiramisu. And by settled, I mean enjoyed while discussing the importance of moving toward getting what you ultimately want.

Now that I've identified that, I can join in the discussion, garlic breath and all.

A Morning of Italian Fim and Food

It wasn't my first time at the Italian Film & Food Festival, but it was the first time I attended the first showing of the day.

I met a friend (and his friend) there, someone who works in the restaurant business and wouldn't normally choose to be anywhere at 10:30 in the morning and who desperately needed wake-up caffeine.

Luckily for him, one of the sponsors of the fest was Caffe Espresso so he ordered an Italian coffee from the very Italian proprietor (dark curly hair, dashing scarf). When asked what I wanted, I declined, saying I don't drink coffee.

"You don't drink coffee?" he asked, clearly appalled. "That's not Italian!" Even given my Irish heritage, I somehow felt like a failure to this man.

The food part of the morning was a surprise since I'd always gone to later screenings and they couldn't very well serve dinner before noon. We were treated to two kinds of soup, one a veggie lentil and the other a chicken stock-based soup with egg and Parmesan; both were terrific. Accompanying that were Prosciutto and cheese on rolls, smoked salmon and cream cheese with capers on crostini, hard-cooked eggs in a tuna cream sauce and a rich little dessert, which I was told consisted of an almond cookie dipped in egg and covered in phyllo dough and baked.

It was a perfectly lovely Italian breakfast.

We were seeing Fists in the Pocket directed by Marco Bellocchio from 1965. Made at a time when post-war Italy was still adrift, it was a very dark film. It was Bellocchio's first film, made on an extremely slim budget by a young anarchist searching for his way in the film world. The movie about a highly dysfunctional family was all about subverting institutions: the family, marriage, the church, even the confessional.

Considered part of the Second Italian Renaissance, the film was considered at the time to be the start of a new era in Italian film. Given the heavy plot, complete with epilepsy, blindness and murder, it must have been shocking when it came out.

But it was 1965, so there was a 60s party scene, complete with stylish young people dancing to current music and clearly part of the "in" crowd.

The last minute of the film was completely improvised by the lead actor, the anti-hero who was considered an Italian Brando. It was an incredibly powerful way to resolve the family drama and no doubt difficult for audiences at the time. Bob Ellis from VCU introduced the film and said that when he first saw it, he found it to be the most excruciating and depressing film he'd ever seen.

That said, it was absolutely worth getting up early to see on a Saturday morning. Bourgeois dysfunctional families may not be a new topic, but in the hands of a serious Italian talent like Bellocchio, it was riveting.

Breakfast from the kitchens of Mam Zu's. Edo's Squid and 8 1/2 only made it more irresistible. It truly was a feast for all the senses.

Prabir Tells Me How to Do It/Part Deux

The whole town has already resigned itself to the inevitable; we're going to get another big snow and all the weekend's activities are going to be cancelled/postponed and there's nothing we can do about it...except have a rollicking good Thursday night as a precautionary measure.

Still craving Italian, my friend and I started at Edo's for dinner and arrived to a mob scene.

I used my superior bar skills to score bar stools before anyone else in the place even realized the occupants were abandoning them.

Dinner was a spicy oyster stew and then roasted red pepper and mozzarella for me; my friend had the stew and then calamari.

The bartender is a friend of hers, so we had an intimate discussion of tabloids, the uses of the History Channel and why a guy would ask a female friend to pimp for him.

Our next stop was Six Burner for music, but my friend was still hungry so we enjoyed even more food: crispy duck confit (to die for), risotto balls and a red velvet cupcake.

Before long, my friend Andrew showed up, followed by the masses for Prabir and the Goldrush's show and there was no looking back.

People continued to arrive non-stop until the owner had to do door duty and turn people away.

The temperature inside the restaurant climbed to summertime levels, the bartender stripped to a t-shirt (nice look, Josh) and eventually the air conditioning had to be turned on, despite it being barely above freezing outside.

Seriously, when I think it's warm, it's warm.

As usual, Prabir's show was great musical fun, including original material, of course the Beatles and ending with a robust sing-along version of Bohemian Rhapsody.

I couldn't believe how many in the audience knew every single word (I don't and I'd prefer Bohemian Like You any day, but it was an inspired choice, nonetheless).

And, let me tell you, they were into it, many of them singing at the top of their lungs to a song older than they were.

Laugh-out-loud-hilarious. If you haven't seen this trio tear it up, you should make a point to check them out.

Fortunately, Prabir and I had caught up before he took the stage so I could get the rest of his Grand Plan.

It seems that after steps one through six here, there is more for the lovelorn to attend to, namely:

7. Amend list to include late adds
8. Try out the late additions
9. Eliminate the unsuitable ones
10. Introduce a close, but platonic, friend to the late add who most impresses you.

And voila!

You have arrived at a new love who is acceptable to a trusted friend, who can also secure pertinent information for you from said new love.

I'm on it.