Play What You Know

If I'd been a student, my teacher would have told me to stop horsing around.

Walking up the brick walkway to happy hour at the Anderson Gallery, I spotted tonight's musical guest - Dave Watkins -being posed for some pictures under a tree.

I could have paused to stay out of frame, could have breezed by and into the gallery, but, no, I all but ran up behind him and used my hand to stick rabbit ears behind his head.

His newly shorn head, I might add, since Dave was sporting a very attractive curly on top, high and tight on the sides summer do.

It was my first time photo-bombing, just for the record, and I'm pretty pleased with myself about it.

Saying hello to a gallerist and an artist, I was almost immediately joined by other members of the Dave Watkins fan club: neighbors from J-Ward, the photographer and his cute wife, the motorcyclist, the DJ, the one with the new state job.

Hail, hail, the gang's all here.

A friend immediately complimented my hair, asking me where I'd gotten it cut. As if. I love how much credit people give me.

When I told her it had been Hair Cuttery in August 2013, she told me she asks her husband to just lop off the end of her ponytail when she needs a trim (he won't, by the way). I guess we'll just keep growing it out then, she and I.

Once everyone in our little group had a beverage in hand, we sat outside on the brick patio catching up.

The couple who'd just returned from the Red Wing Roots music festival told a funny story of having their pirate flag stolen from the pole (which they didn't steal) beside their tent. Far more valuable stuff was ignored, but the thieves got the skull and crossbones.

My friend loved the poetry of a pirate flag having been pirated.

Because there are even more music shows this week than normal, we all compared notes to see who is going to which shows.

An artist I know from another lifetime came over and told me she had seen me running up behind Dave and how great I looked. "You never change," she said, "no matter how many years go by. I hope that means you're happy!"

I dare say I am.

When we moved inside for music, Dave proceeded to not only blow minds with his music but also put on a sound-activated light show on the walls of the gallery.

Is there nothing the man can't do?

Building up layers of musical phrases with his electric dulcitar - you know, the one he built himself just like the new haircut he gave himself - and looping them so he could produce the sound of an entire band instead of just one guy, I watched minds being blown as first-timers became part of the cult of Dave.

Me, I've been a card-carrying member of his fan club for five years now and he knows it.

When his set ended, there was major applause and extended mingling. My neighbors asked me to join them for dinner, but I had plans. Neither was surprised.

"Do you go out every night?" the husband asked. I do, I told him. I can't think of a good reason not to.

The plans that kept me from eating with them were at Richmond Triangle Players where brothers Evan and Chris Nasteff were doing a cabaret/rock show.

Plus it was going to be an interactive show so every attendee got to put two song requests in the hat (bribes were suggested). The only rule was that there could be no show tune requests because they didn't know what a show tune was until eight years ago and show tunes are difficult...or so they claimed.

Considering Evan's an actor (I'd seen him do a terrific job in "Cabaret" last month), their aversion to show tunes was unexpected.

No surprise, I ran into an actor friend and we got to talking about auditions for "Hedwig and the Angry Inch," my excitement over The Basement (the new theater space coming to my neighborhood where "Hedwig" will play) and, of all things, the Pump House in Byrd Park, which he'd heard was finally being renovated.

If the Pump House is ever redone, he thinks the preview event should be a tea dance to kick off pride week. I can't think of a better way to christen the old dance floor than having a bunch of queens break it in. Can I get an amen?

Finally taking my seat in the second row, when I was asked where I'd come from, I said happy hour.

"Are you happy?" he wanted to know. Oh, yes, I'm happy.

All of a sudden tonight's star, Evan, was onstage and demanding of the room, "Sit down!" followed by his best "Cabaret" German accent saying, "You VILL sit down!" so we did.

He and his band - brother Chris on guitar, Grant on guitar, Bobby on bass and Bentley on drums- were all in tank tops and they enthusiastically crashed into the Beatles' "I Saw Her Standing There," making for a fabulous start to the evening.

We all yelled our approval.

Partway through, Richmond icon Marjorie Lee Stewart VanderCamp (aka Maggie) took the stage before being shooed away while Chris and Grant got out their acoustic guitars and did "And I Love Her" with Bentley hand drumming, which I love the sound of.

Meanwhile, the Nasteff parents were in the front row, alternately taking pictures and looking rather proud.

Next Evan called the platinum blond Grey up (she's currently doing "Hair," which I'd also just seen) and she took the stage looking like a million bucks in pink satin pants, a black sequin top and silver platform shoes before destroying the room (or at least me) doing a slow burn of the Foundations' "Baby, Now That I Found You" with Chris on guitar.

You better believe I hooted and hollered after that one.

The next guest was the ringer. Nick, also taking  a night off from "Hair" joined Chris and Evan on Crosby, Stills and Nash's magnificently alliterative "Helplessly Hoping," complete with three part harmonies. Absolutely beautiful.

Afterwards, Evan quipped, "As you can see by the words written all over Nick's arms, that's not his last song with us." Sure enough, both arms were covered in lyrics.

Admitting that they couldn't stand John Mayer but admired his music, the band rocked through "3 x 5" and then went in a whole different direction with Chris doing R. Kelly's "Remix of Ignition" and I screamed even louder at the end.

After singing about stroking it and feeling that body, Chris looked over at the woman who had birthed him and said, eyes down, "Hi, Mom."

And what better to follow sexual pleading than with "Hey Ya," with the line, "I don't wanna meet your Mama, I just want to make you come-a"?

Sorry, Mama Nasteff.

The always energetic Matt did a couple of Green Day songs - "She" and "Pullin' Teeth"- with Marjorie, claiming they only learned them yesterday. If so, well done, you two.

Who needed show tunes when these guys were killing it with rock?

That was when we got to the request box and Evan pulled out some wiseacre's suggestion for Lindsay Buckingham pre-Fleetwood Mac.

"Are you kidding?" Evan said, tossing it aside. "I'm going to take your dollar anyway."

The next request was for "Genie in a Bottle," followed by a another for the same song. Who are you people?

Only problem was Evan didn't have his phone so he couldn't look up the chords. Aw, too bad.

"Yea, we thought this through," Chris deadpanned at the mic for the third time tonight, his go-to announcement every time things got chaotic onstage.

They decided the smart thing to do was break for intermission, let everyone get drinks, they'd find the chords and start the second act with "Genie."

After a mad rush for the bar (with Will Smith playing on the sound system) and a friend saying to me, "This is crazier than the Ghostlight after party," which is really saying something because that's always a pretty silly evening, the audience mostly took their drinks to their seats so the Nasteffs could carry on.

Because that's what they'd come to do and, by gum, they were going to do it.

Evan sang lead on "Genie," while Marjorie did the best interpretive dance and backing vocals and the band members just cracked up the entire time.

When you think about it, that's actually an appropriate reaction to that silly song.

Midway through the Killers' "When You Were Young," Evan flashed Chris a smile and said, "See, I did learn that last chord." Apparently brotherly one-upmanship never dies.

Nick returned, studying his lyric-filled arm during the intro to "My Sharona," before belting it out which got lots of audience squeals, but then they went into OK Go's "Here We Go Again" sung by Evan, before reverting to "Sharona."

Ye gads, a medley!

Walking offstage, someone called to Nick asking, "Who's Sharona?" and he yelled, "Mine!"

Chris did "Life in the Slaw Lane," an acoustic ode to fruits and vegetables that had the crowd cracking up with every line of wordplay ("Her name was Peaches, a soiled but radishing beauty with huge gourds"), laughing himself at points.

Naturally they had to follow that with something crazy like Tenacious D, resulting in Papa Nasteff calling out from the first row, "Play something you know!"

No matter how old you get, they still think they're the boss of you. Pipe down, Daddio.

"We're gonna do a Dire Straits song as re-imagined by the Killers because we're not old as shit," Evan said before trading off vocals with Chris on "Romeo and Juliet," a song I admit I hadn't heard before and I am old as shit, despite what artists might tell me.

Nick and Majorie returned ("Yes, Nick, it's that arm!"), ready to regale us with a song from "School of Rock" while having a dance-off with each other. "Teacher's Pet" was definitely the song where the band rocked out hardest.

"Rock and roll!" someone shouted as they finished. That's what we'd come for.

"We're gonna play our encore as our last song and then do one request," Evan said before "Hey, Jude" and the whole audience joining in for the "na, na, na" chorus, a true kumbaya moment.

Because I've been to the Ghostlight after party plenty, I more or less was certain that "Hit Me, Baby, One More Time" would be the big finale (Evan always closes the show doing it) and I wasn't disappointed.

With the band cracking up, the crowd singing along, tonight's cabaret/rock show ended on the happiest of notes.

The brothers who have always wanted to do a show together can now scratch that off their bucket list after a well-executed performance.

I'm pretty sure they were having as good a time as we were.

Some things you don't have to think through.

Early Morning Singing Song

"You're the best date ever!" my girlfriend said when I dropped her at her car.

It had been a pretty terrific evening, if I do say so myself.

Our first stop was at Metzger Bar & Butchery in Church Hill where, despite the early hour, almost every seat was taken. And this is only their second night in business.

Looking at the heavily Austrian and German wine list, my eye went right to Anton Bauer Rose Zweitgelt, as did my mouth after being poured a glass of the crisp, pale pink wine. Pru followed suit despite no familiarity with the grape.

She's a trusting one.

Being book nerds, we couldn't help but try to discern the titles of the books stacked on shelves behind the bar - "The Germans," "Berlin" and, best of all, "The Complete Works of Kafka" while another shelf held more utilitarian subjects such as meat and fish.

I felt a tap on my shoulder and it was a former co-worker, actually two of them, asking for cocktail recommendations. I demurred to the bartender but enjoyed a bit of chit-chat with them anyway.

It was warm in Metzger, probably partly because of the crowd but also because its windows face westward and the late afternoon sun was doing its thing.

Eventually, one of the servers closed the window shades, but that still left the glass door radiating its greenhouse effect, so he taped butcher paper (appropriate, huh?) over the door and scrawled "We are open" on the outside of it.

The music was lost to the din, but the bustling staff kept us hydrated while we chose a few things from the kitchen.

Carrot salad, a standout of whole baby carrots, parsnips, frisee and caraway in a parsnip puree was so good Pru observed, "If someone served that to me every day, I would eat it."

True story.

Like the couple next to us, we ordered the smoked trout rillettes (because they'd already run out of head cheese, an amazing and encouraging thing for Richmond) colorfully adorned with pickled onion and parsley.

When I asked why they'd come in, they said it had been to get a chicken. "Now, four drinks later and two appetizers, we're going to get that chicken and get out of here." When I heard how close they live, I told them I foresaw danger with Metzger for them.

When the former co-worker friend went to leave, he stopped by momentarily. "Stay gorgeous, stay articulate and keep writing!" he said by way of farewell.

Always my goal, friend.

I saw several Church Hill residents come in and have to wait for tables, and while we felt their pain, we just ordered more wine and dessert.

First come, first served is a cliche for a reason.

In our defense, we wasted no time gobbling up small pieces of chocolate doppelbock cake (because you know it had to be chocolate) resting on salted caramel (be still, my heart) aside buttermilk ice cream with pretzel crumb for textural contrast scattered around.

Yes, it was as fabulous as it sounds.

As we went to leave, I saw another former co-worker (what is this, RTD old home night?) waiting for a table and stopped to catch up with her. Pru amused herself by chatting with a couple she didn't know after she heard the woman ask for Chardonnay.

By the time I turned to fetch her, the woman was happily sipping a glass of Anton Bauer Rose Zweitgelt and Pru, who an hour and a half earlier had no knowledge of this wine, was now clucking with satisfaction at having made a fan of this stranger.

Leaving the hungry masses to an able kitchen (and knowing we'll be back soon), we were westbound to the Firehouse Theater to see the tribal love-rock musical, "Hair."

That's right, it's the dawning of the age of Aquarius and Pru and I had been beyond excited to see this play, me especially because I'd never seen even the film.

For that matter, I'd never seen the Firehouse without a raised stage, but tonight it was just assorted rugs on the floor and pieces of fabric in door openings. Very atmospherically groovy.

Director Jase Smith came out, explaining that he hadn't yet been born in 1967 when "Hair" debuted. Luckily, his parents had been hippie types, so he had a frame of reference. "Are you ready to rock?" he roared and we answered affirmatively.

I'll be honest, I'm a big fan of Nick Aliff's and he did a superb job in the role of Berger the free spirit, his big, beautiful voice singing to the rafters and his playful personality - he dances with abandon, something I love to see -pervading the group.

Plus he took off his pants after the first song and it's hard to argue with a man's partial nudity right off the bat.

One thing I would argue with was that some (not all, some were spot on) of the costumes were wrong, just wrong. As in, they looked like the misconception of someone who wasn't around in the '60s re-imagining the '60s, maybe from bad movies or TV. The belts, for example, some of the women wore were just ridiculous looking.

But patched jeans? Absolutely realistic. Referring to it as pot and not weed? Right on. The Afro on one of the black guys? You bet.

But the story of a tribe of kids trying to figure out life, love, the sexual revolution and Vietnam was fascinating for how many cultural buttons the play's writers made sure to push, like the friendly musical competition of "Black Boys" and then "White Boys."

And maybe it's my age, but the songs held up. "Aquarius/Let the Sun Shine In," "Hair," "Easy to Be Hard" and my personal favorite, "Good Morning, Starshine," were thoroughly enjoyable to hear reinterpreted in the 21st century.

The play even ended with a be-in, and the cast inviting members of the audience to join them onstage to dance.

Tonight was preview night, so the cast was looking for audience reaction to help them develop the production. My wish (besides attention to those few awful and incorrect costumes) would be for the cast to project better, as many lyrics were lost to anyone beyond the front row.

I'd love to go back in a couple weeks and see how the young cast settles into their characters and the era. You gotta believe that the earth says hello.

When we left the love fest of "Hair," it was only to head down the block to the Camel, where I immediately ran into a favorite songbird for the second time in four days. "Are you here to see the Hi-Steps?" she asked eagerly.

You bet, I am, sweetheart. What could be better after a rock musical about the '60s than some vintage '60s soul music?

There wasn't much time left in their set, but any time listening to the Hi-Steps is well worth it (see: Curtis Mayfield's "Movin' on Up"). Even Pru, a first-timer, had to marvel at their polished sound and soulful male and female vocalists.

When the band began the slow burn of "Try a Little Tenderness," she didn't even look at me, she just murmured, "Ooh, good song!," smiling all the while.

But they're all good songs and with a three-piece horn section blasting and the bass line thumping, it was a fitting way to end our eventful hot date.

Never let it be said that I don't know how to show a date a good time.

Stirring Up the Lewdly-Inclined

With Bootleg Shakespeare, you gotta want it.

Meaning, you gotta be willing to eat a late lunch (3:45 at Garnett's, where I run into the guy who recently gave me a mix tape and thank him for his mix making) and stand in line for a good, long while.

Say, from 4:45 to 6:10 when Pru and I finally procure tickets and are free until the 7:30 curtain time.

Waiting for tickets, the head usher comes out in an ensemble that could stop traffic: leather lace-up pants, a vest, heels and a red, white and blue stars and stripes shirt he bought for his first concert back in the '70s. Naturally, I had to inquire what that show was and was told it was the Fifth Dimension at Franklin Street gym. He came *this* close to dancing with Marilyn McCoo, he said.

Whoa.

Another usher is dressed in silver lame pants with silver boots and lots of bling. It's a magnificently '70s ensemble. The man in line ahead of me eventually joins our conversation about the people butting in front of the line and later gives me a quizzical look and says, "You're the one who writes the blog, right?"

How the hell did you know that? "I figured it out," he claims. Yea, right.

Leaving the ticket line to kill time, we pass the waiting line, now well past Staples, and I hear someone call out to me, "Hey, beautiful!" As Pru and I discussed, those are words no woman ever tires of hearing.

Back inside, director James Ricks explains that the beauty of doing a play like "Pericles, Prince of Tyre" is that it's infrequently produced, thus there are no expectations. No ghosts of Richard Burton, as he explains it.

Just 17 actors, no rehearsals and absolute fun.

The bootleg production has a band and they begin the play by playing Led Zeppelin's "Immigrant Song" with the entire cast dancing like Charlie Brown characters in the Christmas special.

Nick Aliff is immediately awesome as Antiochus, complete with Brando-like mumbled vowels and an incestuous relationship with his daughter, played by the lollipop-sucking, knee sock-wearing McLean Jesse. John Mincks' character is at once getting laughs as he continually loses a lens to his glasses.

Fittingly for bootleg, sailing ships are depicted with paper cut outs and sticks bobbing behind the backdrop. When Pericles lands on famine-starved Tarsus, he saves them with candy corn and bags of Cookout burgers.

Because of the lack of rehearsals and time to study lines, the evening is filled with actors calling, "Line!" as well as creative ways to bring dialog onstage: inside a breastplate, written on a palm, using a phone, reading off a "letter."

The French get skewered by Adam Mincks wearing a turtleneck, smoking a cigarette, saying "merdre!" and dancing like a '50s beatnik. Absolutely hysterical.

Led Zep is played between scenes, songs like "Black Dog," "Rock and Roll," and, for a moment, "Stairway to Heaven," before the cast revolts and shouts, "No 'Stairway to Heaven'!" Thaisa's suitors do a dance-off to determine who will win her hand while she (Grey Garrett) sips a juice box.

One of the most charming scenes involved baby Marina, held in the arms of the nurse and following Evan/Pericles side to side, watching him everywhere he moved.

During intermission, one lucky attendee won the raffle to play a pirate in the second act, hook, parrot and all.

Late in the play when John Mincks' character is trying to make a deal with McLean Jesse's, his shorts around his ankles, he repeatedly asked for his line until eventually letting prompter Kerrigan Sullivan read the entire passage. "All of that!" Mincks shouted with a flourish and walked off stage.

Yet again, the beauty of the bootleg.

He wasn't the only one feeling the fatigue of a long play and little rehearsal; eventually during Pericles' rough period, Evan said, "I am great with wine," when the line was really, "I am great with woe."

Wine, woe, potato, potah-to.

Because I'd never read or seen "Pericles" produced, it was a pleasure to watch the story unfold, never quite sure what might happen. Who knew there'd be so many presumed dead still alive? So much incest? So much attempted prostitution?

Few love to hear the sins they love to act.

I love to hear whatever the participants of bootleg Shakespeare want to act.

Line!

I am great with bawdy appreciation.

Mid-Summer Madness

Nothing worked out as expected and everything worked out great.

The plan was to go to Petersburg to have a picnic on the lawn and see Sycamore Rouge's free production of  "Twelfth Night."

Free Shakespeare outdoors, hell, yes.

I mean, yes, please.

On the drive down 95, it began to rain.

By the time we got downtown it was more like a monsoon.

We pulled up right in front of the Petersburg Art League and sat there in the car, hoping to wait out the rain and hope that the play would still begin in just over an hour.

I suppose we were a little obvious, sitting there idling and staring, so when a woman stuck her head out the door, I rolled down my window and asked if the play was still happening.

It was, only inside now and, yes, we could bring our dinner in with us.

Being straight-haired women, we opted to wait out the worst of the rain before making a mad dash for the door.

All at once, my friend had a flash of clarity.

"Wine!" she exclaimed, pulling a bottle of Rose d'Anjou from the back seat.

She's brilliant, that one.

So that was us, the two happy theater lovers sitting in the Mini sipping Rose as the rain fell harder and car tires disappeared into the enormous puddle across the street.

Once we'd gotten into the wine, we couldn't help but get into the food we'd brought from Garnett's and next thing you know, I'm eating a farmer's salad and she's downing a black forest ham sandwich and potato chips which had morphed from extra crispy to slightly soggy in the humid air.

About 7:15, a woman came out of the building, indicating we should roll down the window and said, "If you want to come in, we're going to start in about fifteen minutes."

Food and wine consumed, we soon joined the small crowd inside.

No doubt many people had assumed the outdoor show had been called off by the bad weather, but they'd have been wrong.

You know what they say about assumptions.

We had our pick of seats and choose two in the front row, the better to see the mistaken identities and cross-gartered stockings up close.

The cast, full of fine voices, began the show by singing "Walk Like a Man" before they were off and running.

I heard you were saucy at my gates.

"Twelfth Night" is a play I've seen many times (Scott Wichmann was my first Mavolio, what, over a decade ago?) and one I still enjoy with the right cast.

This was the right cast and the right chaise, the only prop.

O, time, thou must untangle this, not I.

This production included a lot of popular music - "I Wanna Hold Your Hand," "You've Got to Hide Your Love Away," "Leavin' on a Jet Plane," "Get Off of My Cloud"- played to a guitar strummed by the especially well-acted Feste, the fool (whose voice sent both Friend and I into palpitations).

As I am, all lovers are.

Having the Art League as the backdrop for the play instead of the great outdoors meant that behind the actors hung a show by Adam Juresko, an artist with whom I'm well familiar since two of his pieces hang in my living room.

All I'm saying is, you could do a whole lot worse for set decoration.

Let thy love be younger than thyself.

That's always been my M.O.

When intermission arrived, we stretched our legs by going outside during a momentary break in the rain and admired the little park and stage next door where the play is usually performed.

Seeing it made us both want to come back and try the picnic/play thing again.

But indeed, words are very rascals.

During the second act, I got the payoff for being in the front row when the actor playing Sebastian leered at me mid-dialog and inquired, "So, I'm Sebastian. What are you doing after the show?"

It's always nice to be singled out.

When after a discussion with his servant, Antonio, he finds he has an hour and some cash to kill, he leered again, as if to check if an hour would be enough.

I could work with  an hour.

Why, this is very mid-summer madness.

Despite the small crowd and move to the indoors, the cast was energetic, delivering their lines as if to a lawn full of people.

Which is, I bet, what they will have for all their other performances considering how well-executed and hilarious this production is.

I recognized a couple of people since I was practically up in their faces.

Matt as Sir Andrew was laugh-out-loud funny with his big eyes and effortless broad physical comedy, once even knocking the curtain off the opening to the backstage area in his exuberance.

Despite having seen Nick wow me with show tunes at Ghost Light Afterparty so many times, his turn as Malvolio was a treat, as he played alternately egotistical and angry and oh-so dapperly yellow.

McLean's Olivia was funny, self-involved but enthusiastically devoted to the man/woman she thought she loved.

Besides, by the end of the play, everyone had been found out, marriages made and Malvolio clear that he'd be revenged on the lot of them.

By the end of my night, I'd had wine and dinner in a car during a rainstorm and seen a rollicking good play inside instead of out.

Not what I expected, but what you will.