On Not Turning into a Pumpkin

For whatever it's worth, it seems I've become a regular at more than just my favorite restaurants.

As I often do, I began my Friday night at the VMFA for their Friday film. When I arrived, the event's organizer, Trent Nichols, greeted me with, "Welcome back!" as he tore my ticket (badly, but he said he doesn't practice between Fridays and it showed).

This week's film was An Unlikely Weapon: The Eddie Adams Story." Although you may not recognize the name, you'd know his photograph. It's the Pulitzer Prize-winning one of the Chief of Saigon Police shooting the Viet Cong prisoner in the head on the street in 1968.

Adams deserves more name recognition than he probably has. He shot thirteen wars, six presidents, untold celebrities and countless Penthouse cuties. But it was his Vietnam-era photos that got him noticed.

The documentary was fascinating, having been shot before Adams died in 2004, so it gave a true sense of the man in his own words.

He was not impressed with the prize-winning photo credited with changing public opinion about the war; he said the light wasn't right and the composition was terrible. Like any true artist, he was his own harshest critic.

Tonight's audience was full of photographers, eager to ask questions of producer Cindy Lou Adkins after the film. Unfortunately, I couldn't stay for it because of a must-see show at the Firehouse.

It was the Low Branches EP release show and, yes, they're friends, but they're also incredibly talented and I wanted to see and hear this first show at the Firehouse, where the Listening Room will soon take up residence.

The doors had opened 45 minutes before I got there, so I wasn't surprised when the Richmond Scene's Chris, acting as door guy, said he'd been wondering where I was (he might as well have tapped his watch).

When I went to buy the EP, Low Branches singer Christina was doing the selling. "If you hadn't shown up, I would have found out your phone number and called to make sure you were okay," she told me.

The show began with some of RVA's best singer/songwriters: Jonathan Vassar, Nick Coward, Chad Ebel and Will Loyal, alternating turns and each singing a song before beginning the cycle again.

They ended with all of them doing a song of Christina's, a marvelous collaboration of voices and small guitars (they say only very secure guys play small guitars).

The stage was a cozy and eclectic setting for this talented bunch. There were seven lamps, one bird cage, one stuffed deer's head and multiple instrument cases and amps placed artfully around wooden risers. Very homey, assuming the homeowner had slightly odd taste.

The Low Branches put on a magical performance, augmenting their sound with some of the musicians who had played on their record.

Josh of the Speckled Bird and Adam of the Last Battle played cello and lap steel respectively, adding an additional lushness to Matt and Christina's already-beautiful sound.

Her unique voice and Matt's ability to provide just the right instrumentation to enhance it (not to mention when we occasionally get to hear him sing, too) are the hallmarks of their music.Their set was over way too soon.

What could be better after a show of low-key folk than some fuzzy guitars and loads of reverb? I met a friend at Cous Cous as the bar was filling up (many of the arrivals had come from the show I had just attended).

He was not happy to hear that the Diamond Center wasn't starting until midnight, but I cajoled and he stayed; we did some people-watching and age-guessing in the interim.

At one point, the girl next to me turned and said, "You have the most beautiful nose." From there, she praised it every which way, talking about its delicacy, my profile, bad noses and worse. When she left, my friend quickly leaned down and asked, "Did she say what I think she said?"

Nodding, I told him, "And that's exactly why I blog. I get the most random comments in the world made to me and I have no idea why." Who raves about a stranger's nose to them in a bar?

Not long after, I thought the band was close to starting when they turned on their smoke machine and began stinking up the place with a rank smell.

But no, they weren't and my friend got tired of inhaling that mess and waiting,and headed out. "I'll read about what I missed in your blog tomorrow," he said, after asking if I'd hate him if he left (of course not - his loss).

He hadn't been gone three minutes when the Diamond Center cranked it up with the unmistakable sound of a twelve string. From there it was one reverb-drenched psychedelic song after another filling the packed room.

As if that wasn't soul-satisfying enough, DJs Greg and Sara were doing a psychedelic light show on a screen behind the band. It was too groovy for words and I mean that sincerely; I've heard them spin 60s vinyl and it was amazing, but now I know that their talents also extend to light shows.

I wasn't the only Diamond Center fanatic in the crowd, so there was a lot of dancing and booty-shaking going on throughout their set. I heard more than one person tell a friend, "This band is so good!"

When the final ribbon-bedecked tambourine-shaking song ended in a cloud of smoke, the crowd clapped and whistled in appreciation.

Because I'm such a fan of their sound, it was my fifth or sixth Diamond Center show. You could almost say I'm a regular with them, too.

But let's not. I'd rather just be thought of as a music lover who was lucky enough to see two amazing shows on a Friday night. Even a non-regular could have done that...if they're willing to stay out past midnight.

I got that one covered.

Listening for All the Right Reasons

You don't see a good friend for a few weeks and when you finally do your time is limited by prior committments, so all the Counoise and Malbec in the restaurant can't help you catch up on each other's lives any faster than you do. But we tried diligently, we really did.

The starting point was Six Burner (at her request but always a good choice for me) and while I was the sole customer at 6:00, within the hour, the place was bustling. By the time my friend arrived, I'd already regaled Josh with the details of last night's supreme soul show, knowing that as a musician he'd want to hear about such talent and showmanship and he did. His biggest regret was that I hadn't forewarned him since he'd been off by 9:30 and could have made it over. I keep forgetting that that's my job around here: tell people what to do.

My friend started by asking if I had the minutes of our last get-together and, sadly, I did not. Once we got rolling on the value of blog posts with depth, there was no stopping the words, though. Theater was next with a discussion of the hardest part of being an actor not being the actual acting, but the onstage listening and reacting (can you say Brandon Crowder?). Having just seen Tommy too, we compared notes.

She's recently started working out with a personal trainer who's been treating her respectfully and politely. much to her disgust. Tired of that nonsense, when he told her today to do another set of crunches after two previous sets, she responded, "Fuck you!" in an effort to loosen him up. After that, he seemed to finally get a feel for who she really is and how best to handle her; a well-placed expletive can do that for a woman.

Josh reappeared with an amuse bouche and we tucked into eel with roasted ramp in a mushroom sauce and what a delicious thing that was. We then ordered the salumi plate of cured meats and the risotto balls with mozzarella (that superb crust and creamy interior, what a beautiful contrast that was) to have some sustenance while we delved into heavier things.

She reads the blog so, as she pointed out, she knew the general framework of what had been happening, but wanted the full-on versions with the details I don't share publicly. It had been so long that entire chapters had closed, new intrigue had occurred and fresh fodder for discussion developed. Josh kept our glasses refilled and we talked right up until we went our separate ways on the sidewalk out front.

I had to get going because I was not willing to be late for the Listening Room; music starts promptly at 8 and I like to have a few minutes to socialize before zipping it for the sake of music.

The program began with the soft-voiced Lydia Ooghe, playing with Trey Pollard and Wells Hanley. "This is a song about wanting to go out and drink by myself," she informed the audience. Then turning to her musicians, she asked, "Do you guys know what song that is? It 's actually all of them." Favorite lyric: "I don't really care if you're a good boy/you're the only one for me."

Worth noting is that Trey was not playing his usual guitar, but instead the pedal steel, an instrument whose sound I love but don't really understand. I corrected that tonight by going up to him after the performance and asking my dumb non-musician questions. Unlike the guitar, which he's played since childhood, the pedal steel is fairly new to him. "It takes every ounce of concentration I have to play this thing," he told me, saying it was well worth it. Ah, but the sound is so wonderful we both agreed.

Nick Coward played next and up until tonight, I'd only seen him with his band, the Last Battle. He played a song from his upcoming EP and mentioned that it had horns, but that he was going to sing the horns, which he did beautifully; he also covered the Arcade Fire's Ocean of Noise. Best lyric: "Blaming the past/for what the future lacks/in this backward waltz."

Last up was Moruza (it means mish-mash and was the leader's middle name), a quintet of three women and two guys (keys, fiddle, bass, drums, singer). Saying she was nervous and babbling, a song was introduced with, "This is a song about liars...which is almost everybody." She paused to let the audience react. "No, she didn't," she said smiling at her pronouncement.

The band had beautiful harmonies with two and sometimes three female voices and claimed that usually they were the quietest band, although that was not the case at the Listening Room. Favorite lyric: "And you loved me/just the way I'd hoped you could/And you followed me/just the way I'd hoped you would." That's from a song entitled Richmond, written, they said, because the band is from here, lives here and loves it here.

I can relate. While I'm not from here, evenings like tonight are exactly why I live here and love it here. Some people would call it a big, stupid city, but I feel lucky enough to think I'll find someone amazing here.

And in the meantime, I have nights like this.

All Folked Up

What's the proper lead-up to a superb evening of folk music? Hell if I know, so here's how I went about it.

I went to the wine tasting at River City Cellars, as I so often do, with the usual result that I saw some people I knew and met a few new ones. They were pouring a selection of Louis/Dressner wines, mostly organic/biodynamic, low yield, hand harvested and sustainably raised. I ended up buying the Famille Peillot 2007 Bugey Pinot Noir from eastern France (owner Julia instructed me to decant it for a good while to fully enjoy it and I defer to her greater wine knowledge).

I've got a refrigerator full of white wine but with the cooler nights, I've been wanting something heartier to share with friends before an evening out. The tasting ended with one of my new acquaintances, Jason, telling me a particularly ribald joke; don't you love it when people can gauge how far they can go with you within moments of meeting?

Then there are the people who latch onto you despite there being no particular interest or connection on your part, as was the case for me at dinner last night at 27. The couple who sat down next to me at the bar mercifully arrived after I'd eaten and was just finishing my wine and proceeded to tell me way more about themselves than I cared to hear, even cajoling me to join them for a cigarette outside so we could continue our chat (I don't smoke, btw).

But the veal and mascarpone ravioli in sage butter sauce was divine, so I guess it was all some sort of cosmic trade off.

Lastly, I headed to Gallery 5 for the folk extravaganza of Paul Watson/Low Branches/Nick Coward/Vandaveer/Jonathan Vasser and the Speckled Bird show. I've seen Paul Watson, Jonathan Vasser and Low Branches before, so I already knew how terrifically talented they all were and I'd heard great things about Vandaveer.

This folk duet from DC was everything I'd read about them and more, with two beautiful voices, a guitar and some reverb. As the female half, Rose's voice was magnificent as a counterpoint to main guy Mark. He explained away her coughing, "Rose got the consumption in Burlington. You should hear her when she isn't coughing."

It was tough to imagine her voice sounding any more ethereal than it did. The audience kept telling them to move to rva; no doubt they'd be a stellar addition to our folk scene. Nick Coward's seven-piece ensemble was also wonderful: the back and forth of voices and all that instrumentation, soft and loud, was beautiful ear candy.

Walking home, the neighborhood was hopping; I got invited to two parties in full swing within a half a block of home.

All in all, I'd have to say it was a fine night.