Not that I ever give much thought to what's for dinner, but it's come to this: I'm taking dinner suggestions from the Internet.
I may as well put on a foil hat and start communicating with aliens.
With plans to go to Gallery 5 for music anyway, it wasn't much of a leap to go to Saison when I saw them posting that it was their first post-holiday pupusas night.
Suddenly I wanted pupusas, so I trundled down to Saison only to find a full house with one open bar stool.
Fate was expecting me. Or I got lucky, take your pick.
When I heard there were two pupusa varieties tonight, I ordered both: duck, cilantro and chiles for the meat-lover in me and oyster mushrooms, onions and queso fresca because why not?
While I waited for my dinner to arrive, I sipped Espolon, eavesdropped and flipped through the book that contained my menu, a glossy picture book of photographs of colonial Williamsburg.
Just when I'd decided that dated pictures of school groups in knee socks paying rapt attention to tour guides was the highlight, I came across pictures of a tavern and the motto inscribed over its door.
Jollity - lively and cheerful activity, the offspring of wisdom and good living.
I love research. Here I've been going for a life of jollity all along without realizing the source of it.
The guy next to me began discussing beer with the barkeep, specifically the Morning Wood Amber ale and when I gave him a look of amazement about the beer's name, I saw that his date was giving him the same.
I only wish I drank beer so I could say to a stranger with a straight face, "I want morning wood."
Instead I tucked into my pupusas, first the oyster mushroom one and then proceeding to the duck filling inside the thick, corn tortillas.
Behind me, tables began to empty and I saw a photographer I know leaving, but within minutes the tables were full again.
"It's crazy in here!" the guy beside me said and the bartender agreed, unsure why a frigid Wednesday had brought so many people out, but clearly happy about it.
Maybe I'm not the only sucker for an online tease.
For dessert, I got the chocolate beignets with coffee ice cream, a most generous serving that was probably meant to be shared.
Dateless, I did my best alone.
The beignets were dusted in fine granulated sugar rather than the standard confectioner's sugar and I found the housemade ice cream a glorious accompaniment, high praise from this non-coffee drinker.
But the star of the dish, at least for me, was the housemade granola covering the plate, unique for its pepper kick. Brilliant.
With contrasting textures, temperatures and flavors, the dish was an edible symphony on a plate.
I took so long savoring it that I missed the first couple songs by D.C.'s Andrew Grossman and his band at Gallery 5.
Theirs was an electronic poppy folk, clever and catchy enough to make me sorry I'd missed any of it.
Andrew was fun to watch, sometimes all but laying down across his keyboard as he sang.
"We're gonna finish with a cover if that's okay," he said. "If it's not, we won't. It's important to get consent."
It was fine so they covered Radiohead, bringing a film friend to my side afterwards to comment on the choice.
"Young bands never choose songs that aren't off "The Bends" or "OK Computer," he said with resignation, saying that Radiohead was influenced by the Smiths in his opinion.
Can you tell he's a child of the '80s?
On the plus side I now had company for the show and we set up camp in front of the sound booth together.
I've seen My Darling Fury a handful of times now, but my friend hadn't, so I told him he was in for a treat.
His first observation was that their song structures reminded him of Magnetic Fields but it didn't take long before he commented on singer Danny's fabulous voice, one that has been compared to Freddy Mercury's for its drama and range.
"This song was big in 2013," Danny joked about "Blots in the Margins," which Pop Matters had chosen as a best song last year.
"Yea, it's a classic," the drummer shot back. And it is, beautiful and hopeful for anyone who's ever felt outside the norm.
Is there anyone who hasn't at some point?
Voice aside, it's hard not to appreciate MDF's use of upright bass and, fittingly, my favorite handsome upright bass player showed up in time for their set, calling out, "Bass!" in between songs in support.
They ended with "End of the World" and my film friend acknowledged that he'd been impressed.
It's good to be right.
My bass-playing friend said he was going to Comfort and suggested I come get Comfort-able ("Get it?" he grinned) with him and his bandmates there.
It's hard to pass up an invitation from a handsome bass player, but there was more music.
Last up was Floodwall, the reason the filmmaker had come tonight and whom I hadn't seen since last summer.
I like their forays into post-rock and the dreamy vocals, but, let's be honest, it's their shoegaze leanings full of effects that speak to my inner music-from-a-cave soul.
Moving through songs like "Sunlit" and "Belong," they had the full attention of the small crowd gathered in a cold room on a school night.
I was won over when the guitarist began "Moth" by bowing his guitar and did the same later in the song.
Some people hope for more cowbell; I hope for more guitar bowing.
As it got close to curfew time, they managed to fit in three last songs, including the last which took off in a decidedly post-rock soundscape that could have gone on for another half an hour if it had been up to me.
You know how I hate to see an evening of jollity end.
Showing posts with label my darling fury. Show all posts
Showing posts with label my darling fury. Show all posts
Thursday, January 9, 2014
Saturday, November 30, 2013
Funny How Time Flies
I got the memo: it was small business Saturday.
With limited funds, I couldn't do a lot to support the cause, but I did what I could.
That meant a walk to Carytown, five plus miles there and back, to pick up a shoe being repaired at Mitchem's and observe capitalism in action.
It was a zoo.
Traffic barely crawled, the sidewalks were jam-packed and all I could hope was that all those independent stores were making bank today.
But you can be sure that once I procured my shoe, I escaped as quickly as possible.
Turning south to escape the hullabaloo of Cary Street, I was greeted by the sound of bells and horse hooves clopping as a holiday-decorated horse and carriage headed down Idlewood.
Nice seasonal touch.
Returning to Cary just in time to score a chocolate-frosted doughnut from Dixie, I headed east where I was surprised to see two artists working on a street art mural near Stafford Street.
Curious about why they were still painting at this point, I crossed the street to ask.
Seems there were a couple of unfinished sections of wall and they'd been given the chance to do something about that.
"This is our third weekend working on it. So now we're out here in the dead of winter, well, I guess the dead of fall, but it feels like winter, finishing up finally," one told me.
A foursome walked by and complimented her on her piece, saying it looked like a quilt and she smiled broadly as if she wasn't freezing with a paintbrush in her hand on the shady side of the street.
An unexpected art bonus.
Further on, a favorite bartender jogged past, waving and saying hi as we uncharacteristically saw each other in broad daylight.
In what seemed like no time at all, I was back in J-Ward where we also have small businesses in need of support.
This was more fun because it involved music.
Local band My Darling Fury (a brilliant band name if you ask me) was playing at Steady Sounds as part of Black Saturday/Record store day or maybe just because they frequently host bands on Saturday afternoons.
Here was my chance to support a local business and hear live music.
The first surprise was that the performance started right on time, a rarity in record store shows, but MDF began playing before I even got started looking through the record bins.
It was at least my third or fourth time seeing the band and I like these guys a lot.
In the casual atmosphere of Steady Sounds, the crowd was practically on top of them, but in a good way.
Some people continued to browse the stacks but eventually they were won over by the sound.
I recognized several of the songs like "Friendly Parasite" and "Spilled Milk" and laughed when during "Perfectly Mad," drummer Joel called out "guitar solo!" to alert us what was coming up.
Midway through their set, Todd, whose upright bass playing adds immeasurably to MDF's sound, suggested to the others that they do "Head Over Heels," and Danny claimed he didn't know the lyrics.
Conveniently, Joel had them in a zip-lock bag so with that instantly-recognizable (at least to me) intro, they launched into the 28-year old nugget as Steady Sounds owner Marty looked over at me grinning.
They did a really excellent version, and let's be real here, plenty of singers don't have the range for that song, but it took some of the audience a while before they recognized it, understandable since they hadn't been alive in 1985.
Singer Danny didn't want to do "Blots in the Margins" but bowed to band peer pressure and then finished with "The End of the World," which has been their closer, appropriately enough, every time I've seen them.
My music itch scratched, I finally got a chance to do some record shopping, picking up three albums for Christmas presents and doing my small part for small business Saturday while the band packed up.
It occurred to me that if My Darling Fury wanted to cover a Tears for Fears song, they'd have the perfect set-ender with "Goodnight Song."
Here on the stage the time has come
With the strains of "be my angel" of rock in two four
Time may keep alive that old swan song
That we've been playing forever
Till the time may be right to say goodbye
But then I remembered that my responsibility on this Saturday was to spend money, not offer set list advice to strangers, so I took my records and walked home.
You have to admit, 'tis the season for an angel of rock in two four...just saying.
With limited funds, I couldn't do a lot to support the cause, but I did what I could.
That meant a walk to Carytown, five plus miles there and back, to pick up a shoe being repaired at Mitchem's and observe capitalism in action.
It was a zoo.
Traffic barely crawled, the sidewalks were jam-packed and all I could hope was that all those independent stores were making bank today.
But you can be sure that once I procured my shoe, I escaped as quickly as possible.
Turning south to escape the hullabaloo of Cary Street, I was greeted by the sound of bells and horse hooves clopping as a holiday-decorated horse and carriage headed down Idlewood.
Nice seasonal touch.
Returning to Cary just in time to score a chocolate-frosted doughnut from Dixie, I headed east where I was surprised to see two artists working on a street art mural near Stafford Street.
Curious about why they were still painting at this point, I crossed the street to ask.
Seems there were a couple of unfinished sections of wall and they'd been given the chance to do something about that.
"This is our third weekend working on it. So now we're out here in the dead of winter, well, I guess the dead of fall, but it feels like winter, finishing up finally," one told me.
A foursome walked by and complimented her on her piece, saying it looked like a quilt and she smiled broadly as if she wasn't freezing with a paintbrush in her hand on the shady side of the street.
An unexpected art bonus.
Further on, a favorite bartender jogged past, waving and saying hi as we uncharacteristically saw each other in broad daylight.
In what seemed like no time at all, I was back in J-Ward where we also have small businesses in need of support.
This was more fun because it involved music.
Local band My Darling Fury (a brilliant band name if you ask me) was playing at Steady Sounds as part of Black Saturday/Record store day or maybe just because they frequently host bands on Saturday afternoons.
Here was my chance to support a local business and hear live music.
The first surprise was that the performance started right on time, a rarity in record store shows, but MDF began playing before I even got started looking through the record bins.
It was at least my third or fourth time seeing the band and I like these guys a lot.
In the casual atmosphere of Steady Sounds, the crowd was practically on top of them, but in a good way.
Some people continued to browse the stacks but eventually they were won over by the sound.
I recognized several of the songs like "Friendly Parasite" and "Spilled Milk" and laughed when during "Perfectly Mad," drummer Joel called out "guitar solo!" to alert us what was coming up.
Midway through their set, Todd, whose upright bass playing adds immeasurably to MDF's sound, suggested to the others that they do "Head Over Heels," and Danny claimed he didn't know the lyrics.
Conveniently, Joel had them in a zip-lock bag so with that instantly-recognizable (at least to me) intro, they launched into the 28-year old nugget as Steady Sounds owner Marty looked over at me grinning.
They did a really excellent version, and let's be real here, plenty of singers don't have the range for that song, but it took some of the audience a while before they recognized it, understandable since they hadn't been alive in 1985.
Singer Danny didn't want to do "Blots in the Margins" but bowed to band peer pressure and then finished with "The End of the World," which has been their closer, appropriately enough, every time I've seen them.
My music itch scratched, I finally got a chance to do some record shopping, picking up three albums for Christmas presents and doing my small part for small business Saturday while the band packed up.
It occurred to me that if My Darling Fury wanted to cover a Tears for Fears song, they'd have the perfect set-ender with "Goodnight Song."
Here on the stage the time has come
With the strains of "be my angel" of rock in two four
Time may keep alive that old swan song
That we've been playing forever
Till the time may be right to say goodbye
But then I remembered that my responsibility on this Saturday was to spend money, not offer set list advice to strangers, so I took my records and walked home.
You have to admit, 'tis the season for an angel of rock in two four...just saying.
Thursday, June 13, 2013
A Little Wisp of a Scherzo
You start slow and you build on a hot Wednesday evening.
Unlike last week, this week's happy hour at the Anderson Gallery required no brain power.
No talent for interpreting art and music, no ability to read into paintings of historical context.
Just the break I needed to really spend some time looking at the new exhibit, Jacob Lawrence's "The Harriet Tubman Series," and take the time to read all of Lawrence's captions written for the 31 pieces.
As if the paintings weren't painfully and exquisitely evocative of Tubman's life, the text he wrote was every bit as strong.
I took my time reading them and when I walked out of the gallery, there was a friend already sitting with beer in hand.
Like me, he wanted a good seat for GeNDeRS, the duo of singer Nelly Kate and video artist Michele Seippel.
As we sat chatting about his upcoming vacation (a much deserved three weeks), more friends came in and we noticed an unusually high percentage of babies present.
Or as one music-loving friend observed, "I feel naked without a baby!"
The performance began when Nelly emerged from the back room singing a capella and walking toward the front.
Michele's live animation was right there with her, showing on the wall she was approaching.
Once up front, Nelly began recording herself and looping, playing a keyboard and twisting knobs to layer sound at the same time Michele was layering video.
A few babies got restless, one kid licked a Popsicle while mesmerized by the video imagery and the rest of the room was rapt.
Nelly Kate, wowing people with her little girl voice and dense sound since 2011, at least in Richmond.
The addition of Michele's visuals made it even more trance-like than usual.
I thought it made for a very cool happy hour.
Sustenance was next courtesy of Mama J's right here in my 'hood and I arrived just minutes before the place filled up as if on cue.
The bartender recognized me, asked if I wanted the usual (fried chicken) and inquired about my side (collards).
Soon two guys joined me at my end of the bar and the one next to me said hello.
When he was asked for his order, he wanted catfish, but nuggets not a fillet, which aren't on the menu.
And just one fillet, not two.
But as soon as my plate arrived, he called our server over and changed his order to chicken like mine.
It wasn't long before he had regrets, though and, for the second time, changed his order back to catfish nuggets, this time two fillets cut up.
The server checked with the kitchen to see if this was possible and came back to tell the guy that they would cut up one fillet into nuggets but the second one would be whole.
"So you're telling me that's my only choice?" the customer asked, clearly not satisfied.
It was.
Personally, I think the kitchen was putting their foot down, not wanting to be back there making nuggets for this guy.
Or maybe they were tired of doing nuggets after Broad Appetit, although they did win the "To Die For" award for best entree for those very nuggets..
I know because I could see the trophy sitting right there behind the bar.
Fed and full, I wandered down 2 Street to the Speakeasy beside the Hippodrome for Pairs, the second cousin of Classical Revolution.
That's the group that's dedicated to bringing classical music to your local bar, restaurant and coffee shop, worthy aims all.
Last time the pairing had been classical and jazz and tonight's was classical and rock.
Once again, we found coasters sitting on the tables, this month's labeled "Membership Card," with the evening's program on it.
As far as how it came about, it was all about the bass.
Upright bass player Todd of My Darling Fury had mentioned that he had an arrangement of Brahms String Sextet written with a double bass part to replace one of the cellos.
Classical Revolution organizer Ellen ran with that idea, having him perform it with two violins, two violas and a cello and then follow it with a set by My Darling Fury.
Brilliant.
The four-movement Brahms piece had plenty of space in a room with 20' ceilings and the only counterpoint to it was the sound of a cocktail shaker being mixed behind the bar.
When they finished, a woman came over and joined me at my table, beer in hand and eager to chat.
"What movement was your favorite?" she asked after telling me she played cello, but "not on that level."
I hadn't considered it until she asked, but my brain told me it had been the third, the scherzo.
She liked the second, the andante, better for the recurring theme that wound its way through it.
Frankly, I was flattered that anyone would even try to talk music to me given my appalling lack of musical comprehension.
She deferred to me, however, when it came to My Darling Fury, since I'd seen them before and she hadn't.
It took an interminable time for the sound man to get it right for them but once the band started, all was forgiven.
Singer Danny has a fabulous voice, emotive and strong, and whether singing "Friendly Parasite" or about "Take her home to Mama," the songs were melodic and tightly executed.
On one song bass player Todd began beating on the back of his bass, causing a fellow bass player to holler from the bar, "Spank it, son!"
Like I said, it was all about the bass tonight.
Being the language geek that I am, I loved "Spilled Milk," full of American idioms like "big boys don't cry."
During a slow song, there were suddenly three dancers, one woman and two guys, performing in the space between the stage and the crowd.
It was totally unexpected and a few people near me laughed in amusement, so I guess modern dance wasn't their thing.
"You guys thought you were coming to see a rock show, didn't you?" the guitarist joked afterwards.
They did "The End of the World," saying, "We like to place our love songs in different settings and this one's at the end of it all."
The viola and violin players, complete with music stands, and the dancers returned for the closing song, "Magic Creature," making for a melding of the evening's pairs or perhaps a metaphor for something bigger.
I just know it was really beautiful.
My final stop of the evening was Gallery 5 for, wait for it, more music, although I'd missed the first two bands.
I made it in time for Fort Worth's War Party, who were giving it their rocking all in front of a surprisingly small crowd.
That said, there were so many good shows tonight, it was hard to know where to be.
By the time they finished their set (including a plea for somewhere to sleep and smoke), the headliner, locals Hoax Hunters, were up against the clock.
Frontman and guitarist PJ surprised the hell out of me by taking off his hat (a first), obviously anticipating a hard and fast set.
"We're not going to waste your time. We have eleven minutes, so let's do this!" he yelled before the band careened into four or five songs.
It's not every band who could cover so much material and still be finished before Gallery 5's noise cut-off kicks in.
But then it's not every night I can hear everything from classical to punk with minimalist pop and chamber rock in between, either.
Shoot, I consider this night well spanked.
Unlike last week, this week's happy hour at the Anderson Gallery required no brain power.
No talent for interpreting art and music, no ability to read into paintings of historical context.
Just the break I needed to really spend some time looking at the new exhibit, Jacob Lawrence's "The Harriet Tubman Series," and take the time to read all of Lawrence's captions written for the 31 pieces.
As if the paintings weren't painfully and exquisitely evocative of Tubman's life, the text he wrote was every bit as strong.
I took my time reading them and when I walked out of the gallery, there was a friend already sitting with beer in hand.
Like me, he wanted a good seat for GeNDeRS, the duo of singer Nelly Kate and video artist Michele Seippel.
As we sat chatting about his upcoming vacation (a much deserved three weeks), more friends came in and we noticed an unusually high percentage of babies present.
Or as one music-loving friend observed, "I feel naked without a baby!"
The performance began when Nelly emerged from the back room singing a capella and walking toward the front.
Michele's live animation was right there with her, showing on the wall she was approaching.
Once up front, Nelly began recording herself and looping, playing a keyboard and twisting knobs to layer sound at the same time Michele was layering video.
A few babies got restless, one kid licked a Popsicle while mesmerized by the video imagery and the rest of the room was rapt.
Nelly Kate, wowing people with her little girl voice and dense sound since 2011, at least in Richmond.
The addition of Michele's visuals made it even more trance-like than usual.
I thought it made for a very cool happy hour.
Sustenance was next courtesy of Mama J's right here in my 'hood and I arrived just minutes before the place filled up as if on cue.
The bartender recognized me, asked if I wanted the usual (fried chicken) and inquired about my side (collards).
Soon two guys joined me at my end of the bar and the one next to me said hello.
When he was asked for his order, he wanted catfish, but nuggets not a fillet, which aren't on the menu.
And just one fillet, not two.
But as soon as my plate arrived, he called our server over and changed his order to chicken like mine.
It wasn't long before he had regrets, though and, for the second time, changed his order back to catfish nuggets, this time two fillets cut up.
The server checked with the kitchen to see if this was possible and came back to tell the guy that they would cut up one fillet into nuggets but the second one would be whole.
"So you're telling me that's my only choice?" the customer asked, clearly not satisfied.
It was.
Personally, I think the kitchen was putting their foot down, not wanting to be back there making nuggets for this guy.
Or maybe they were tired of doing nuggets after Broad Appetit, although they did win the "To Die For" award for best entree for those very nuggets..
I know because I could see the trophy sitting right there behind the bar.
Fed and full, I wandered down 2 Street to the Speakeasy beside the Hippodrome for Pairs, the second cousin of Classical Revolution.
That's the group that's dedicated to bringing classical music to your local bar, restaurant and coffee shop, worthy aims all.
Last time the pairing had been classical and jazz and tonight's was classical and rock.
Once again, we found coasters sitting on the tables, this month's labeled "Membership Card," with the evening's program on it.
As far as how it came about, it was all about the bass.
Upright bass player Todd of My Darling Fury had mentioned that he had an arrangement of Brahms String Sextet written with a double bass part to replace one of the cellos.
Classical Revolution organizer Ellen ran with that idea, having him perform it with two violins, two violas and a cello and then follow it with a set by My Darling Fury.
Brilliant.
The four-movement Brahms piece had plenty of space in a room with 20' ceilings and the only counterpoint to it was the sound of a cocktail shaker being mixed behind the bar.
When they finished, a woman came over and joined me at my table, beer in hand and eager to chat.
"What movement was your favorite?" she asked after telling me she played cello, but "not on that level."
I hadn't considered it until she asked, but my brain told me it had been the third, the scherzo.
She liked the second, the andante, better for the recurring theme that wound its way through it.
Frankly, I was flattered that anyone would even try to talk music to me given my appalling lack of musical comprehension.
She deferred to me, however, when it came to My Darling Fury, since I'd seen them before and she hadn't.
It took an interminable time for the sound man to get it right for them but once the band started, all was forgiven.
Singer Danny has a fabulous voice, emotive and strong, and whether singing "Friendly Parasite" or about "Take her home to Mama," the songs were melodic and tightly executed.
On one song bass player Todd began beating on the back of his bass, causing a fellow bass player to holler from the bar, "Spank it, son!"
Like I said, it was all about the bass tonight.
Being the language geek that I am, I loved "Spilled Milk," full of American idioms like "big boys don't cry."
During a slow song, there were suddenly three dancers, one woman and two guys, performing in the space between the stage and the crowd.
It was totally unexpected and a few people near me laughed in amusement, so I guess modern dance wasn't their thing.
"You guys thought you were coming to see a rock show, didn't you?" the guitarist joked afterwards.
They did "The End of the World," saying, "We like to place our love songs in different settings and this one's at the end of it all."
The viola and violin players, complete with music stands, and the dancers returned for the closing song, "Magic Creature," making for a melding of the evening's pairs or perhaps a metaphor for something bigger.
I just know it was really beautiful.
My final stop of the evening was Gallery 5 for, wait for it, more music, although I'd missed the first two bands.
I made it in time for Fort Worth's War Party, who were giving it their rocking all in front of a surprisingly small crowd.
That said, there were so many good shows tonight, it was hard to know where to be.
By the time they finished their set (including a plea for somewhere to sleep and smoke), the headliner, locals Hoax Hunters, were up against the clock.
Frontman and guitarist PJ surprised the hell out of me by taking off his hat (a first), obviously anticipating a hard and fast set.
"We're not going to waste your time. We have eleven minutes, so let's do this!" he yelled before the band careened into four or five songs.
It's not every band who could cover so much material and still be finished before Gallery 5's noise cut-off kicks in.
But then it's not every night I can hear everything from classical to punk with minimalist pop and chamber rock in between, either.
Shoot, I consider this night well spanked.
Tuesday, March 12, 2013
No Big Plan
Today was a goof-off day par excellence.
For the first time in weeks, I wasn't on deadline. Nobody was expecting anything from me and there was nothing I really had to do.
Which, given the beautiful weather, was a treat.
I made a few contacts for future deadlines, did a little housekeeping and even took a quick nap.
And by 6:30, I was rarin' to go.
The easiest thing to do was head to my neighborhood joint, even though I had it on good authority that the chef is in Paris.
Bistro 27 was dead and I assumed it was due to the still 68-degree weather until the sous chef told me they had been mobbed last night when it was just as nice.
The staff seemed glad for the reprieve after an unexpectedly crazy evening, so I had built-in company.
One guy told me how he's lived and worked in Jackson Ward for years and loves it.
Calling it the best neighborhood, he mentioned how "you see the same people all the time."
His former roommate had moved to Carytown, a neighborhood this guy dismissed out of hand for its lack of neighborliness.
I love meeting another rabid J-Ward fan.
A couple came in the door and I admired her colorful ensemble - a purple top and gold pants.
I was thinking how much I'd like to have a gold skirt and purple sweater to take advantage of that brilliant color combination myself when she walked by and I got a chance to compliment her.
Turns out the colors were no accident. She and her husband were on their way to the JMU game at the Coliseum.
And here I thought she'd paired those colors on her own. That illusion was destroyed.
Over a glass of wine and mussels in marinara sauce (notable because I am not a red sauce fan but this was outstanding with chunks of onion and a bit of heat - if only all marinara was that good), I chatted with another server, getting the latest restaurant scoop.
Naturally work talk segued into general chatter and before I knew it, I had to run to catch a show.
Walking across Broad Street to the Camel, a girl was crossing with me.
I took a chance and asked if she was going to see a particular band.
"No, I don't know any of the bands but I know the bar," she said cryptically. "I'll see you inside."
That was the last I saw of her.
Inside, I met a fellow show-goer whose name I've never learned but who I've seen at many shows, especially at the National.
We took a moment to marvel at the recent glut of good shows announced, hoping lots of tickets get bought to show promoters that Richmond is a good town to book shows.
Don't let us down, friends.
Looking around for any other familiar faces, I saw not a one and appropriated the booth in the back corner just as the first band finished.
The second band took the stage doing "Crazy" as a sound check before saying, "We are Sleepy Brother and we're gonna begin the tune-age."
That's what I was there for, tune-age.
Asking, "Who's been to Tulsa?" they got a few raised hands. "I'm sorry," the singer Heather said to those raised hands before launching into "Tulsa."
That was followed by Coldplay's "Til Kingdom Come" before she said, "This song isn't necessarily new, it's on our EP, but it is the first time we're doing it live."
"It's a little catchy, so you can clap or dance," Heather said but I saw neither despite the song's catchiness and her lovely voice.
They closed with "Want and Need," mentioning that if anyone had a better title for the song, to get with them after their set.
More people came in before Wayfarer's set, a guy not a band.
He started by saying, "I'll try to do some songs and get this done," and played "Being in Love," with the lyric, "I love the way you look at me."
"So I'm Wayfarer. Sorry I sound like I smoke 1,000 cigarettes a day but I'm sick. So you'll just have to deal with it."
Sure there were occasional cracks in his voice, but overall he did a fine job for one operating at diminished capacity.
He's only been in Richmond for a year and it was only his second show at the Camel, he told us.
"So if you haven't caught on, I write a lot of songs about love," he explained. "The next one is about losing love."
From what I could hear of it, it was a great song, but tonight's crowd was a dreadful one, more interested in blabbing and laughing than listening to the music.
Maybe that's the double-edged sword of a free show, like tonight's.
Perhaps people are more attentive when they've paid to come in.
The crowd was slightly better when My Darling Fury, the headliner, joined Wayfarer for the last song, "Best and Worst."
It made for a quicker-than-usual set-up for My Darling Fury, although they had sound issues all night.
"Can I get a little more Clark in my monitor?" one of the guitarists asked about the other guitarist.
"Can I get a little more of me in the monitor?" Danny the singer asked immediately, following with humor. "That's my favorite part."
I liked his sense of humor already.
On top of that, once he opened his mouth to sing, I think it's safe to say everyone in the room was enamored of his voice.
Danny didn't play an instrument (that voice was enough) but he did have a charismatic stage presence, self-assured and clearly enjoying himself.
"The next song is called "Friendly Parasite." It's a love story," he cracked.
Leech or not, it was a beautiful song.
"In the Ring" was melancholy, allowing him to clasp his hands, sing to the heavens and emote along with the lyrics.
They did a song about "The Big Plan," saying it was for anyone who ever felt alienated.
Isn't that everyone at some point or another?
They were going to finish with a brand spankin' new song, they said, but first decided to do a gag song, as they called it.
A friend had written a song about her new baby. "We took that song and I funked it up. Then the band stank it up," Danny said with a grin, warning us about the language in the song.
It was funky and hysterical.
Like all good Monday nights should be.
For the first time in weeks, I wasn't on deadline. Nobody was expecting anything from me and there was nothing I really had to do.
Which, given the beautiful weather, was a treat.
I made a few contacts for future deadlines, did a little housekeeping and even took a quick nap.
And by 6:30, I was rarin' to go.
The easiest thing to do was head to my neighborhood joint, even though I had it on good authority that the chef is in Paris.
Bistro 27 was dead and I assumed it was due to the still 68-degree weather until the sous chef told me they had been mobbed last night when it was just as nice.
The staff seemed glad for the reprieve after an unexpectedly crazy evening, so I had built-in company.
One guy told me how he's lived and worked in Jackson Ward for years and loves it.
Calling it the best neighborhood, he mentioned how "you see the same people all the time."
His former roommate had moved to Carytown, a neighborhood this guy dismissed out of hand for its lack of neighborliness.
I love meeting another rabid J-Ward fan.
A couple came in the door and I admired her colorful ensemble - a purple top and gold pants.
I was thinking how much I'd like to have a gold skirt and purple sweater to take advantage of that brilliant color combination myself when she walked by and I got a chance to compliment her.
Turns out the colors were no accident. She and her husband were on their way to the JMU game at the Coliseum.
And here I thought she'd paired those colors on her own. That illusion was destroyed.
Over a glass of wine and mussels in marinara sauce (notable because I am not a red sauce fan but this was outstanding with chunks of onion and a bit of heat - if only all marinara was that good), I chatted with another server, getting the latest restaurant scoop.
Naturally work talk segued into general chatter and before I knew it, I had to run to catch a show.
Walking across Broad Street to the Camel, a girl was crossing with me.
I took a chance and asked if she was going to see a particular band.
"No, I don't know any of the bands but I know the bar," she said cryptically. "I'll see you inside."
That was the last I saw of her.
Inside, I met a fellow show-goer whose name I've never learned but who I've seen at many shows, especially at the National.
We took a moment to marvel at the recent glut of good shows announced, hoping lots of tickets get bought to show promoters that Richmond is a good town to book shows.
Don't let us down, friends.
Looking around for any other familiar faces, I saw not a one and appropriated the booth in the back corner just as the first band finished.
The second band took the stage doing "Crazy" as a sound check before saying, "We are Sleepy Brother and we're gonna begin the tune-age."
That's what I was there for, tune-age.
Asking, "Who's been to Tulsa?" they got a few raised hands. "I'm sorry," the singer Heather said to those raised hands before launching into "Tulsa."
That was followed by Coldplay's "Til Kingdom Come" before she said, "This song isn't necessarily new, it's on our EP, but it is the first time we're doing it live."
"It's a little catchy, so you can clap or dance," Heather said but I saw neither despite the song's catchiness and her lovely voice.
They closed with "Want and Need," mentioning that if anyone had a better title for the song, to get with them after their set.
More people came in before Wayfarer's set, a guy not a band.
He started by saying, "I'll try to do some songs and get this done," and played "Being in Love," with the lyric, "I love the way you look at me."
"So I'm Wayfarer. Sorry I sound like I smoke 1,000 cigarettes a day but I'm sick. So you'll just have to deal with it."
Sure there were occasional cracks in his voice, but overall he did a fine job for one operating at diminished capacity.
He's only been in Richmond for a year and it was only his second show at the Camel, he told us.
"So if you haven't caught on, I write a lot of songs about love," he explained. "The next one is about losing love."
From what I could hear of it, it was a great song, but tonight's crowd was a dreadful one, more interested in blabbing and laughing than listening to the music.
Maybe that's the double-edged sword of a free show, like tonight's.
Perhaps people are more attentive when they've paid to come in.
The crowd was slightly better when My Darling Fury, the headliner, joined Wayfarer for the last song, "Best and Worst."
It made for a quicker-than-usual set-up for My Darling Fury, although they had sound issues all night.
"Can I get a little more Clark in my monitor?" one of the guitarists asked about the other guitarist.
"Can I get a little more of me in the monitor?" Danny the singer asked immediately, following with humor. "That's my favorite part."
I liked his sense of humor already.
On top of that, once he opened his mouth to sing, I think it's safe to say everyone in the room was enamored of his voice.
Danny didn't play an instrument (that voice was enough) but he did have a charismatic stage presence, self-assured and clearly enjoying himself.
"The next song is called "Friendly Parasite." It's a love story," he cracked.
Leech or not, it was a beautiful song.
"In the Ring" was melancholy, allowing him to clasp his hands, sing to the heavens and emote along with the lyrics.
They did a song about "The Big Plan," saying it was for anyone who ever felt alienated.
Isn't that everyone at some point or another?
They were going to finish with a brand spankin' new song, they said, but first decided to do a gag song, as they called it.
A friend had written a song about her new baby. "We took that song and I funked it up. Then the band stank it up," Danny said with a grin, warning us about the language in the song.
It was funky and hysterical.
Like all good Monday nights should be.
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