A Trouble-Free Evening

We have a new vinyl store four blocks from my house and I decided to start my evening there because they were having a Joanna Newsom listening party.

Walking by the nearby barbershop, the three guys out front bid me good evening, but they weren't looking me in the eye. "You're looking at my tights, aren't you?" I teased them. One grinned and asked, "What kind of trouble you planing to get in to tonight with those on?"

I told him I hadn't decided yet, that the evening was young. I was wearing the Berlin tights, the ones pictured in my blog profile, the ones that always get comments. They sure know how to make tights in Berlin is all I'm saying.

Inside Steady Sounds, I enjoyed an unexpected trip down memory lane by starting with their older vinyl rather than the new stuff I'd actually be listening to.

Some of the records I saw were an absolute blast from the past, reminding me of people and experiences I hadn't thought about since I was listening to that stuff. I grinned, I laughed out loud; I was having a great time listening and looking.

The unexpected pleasure of it all was happening on several albums that will thrill a friend when I present them to him for Christmas. Miles Davis' Birth of the Cool was probably the best find, but several other jazz fusion titles will definitely score points. Thanks, Joanna.

When I passed by the barbershop leaving, one guy tipped his hat and told me, "Be safe tonight." That was my plan.

From there I went down to Sam Miller's, not a place I frequent, to meet a friend, an acquaintance (last night's Native Virginian) and two strangers. The place was mobbed, they had a duo playing live and there wasn't a seat left at the bar so we took a table in the back.

The strangers were associates of the NV so there was much good-natured ribbing among them, but also satisfying talk of Shakespeare (I got asked to an upcoming performance), church-going (thanks, I'd rather not) and, surprise, music. As for food, the table was laden with sliders, mini-crabcakes and 75-cent oysters. Not a bad happy hour sampling.

The music talk paid off because one of the guys had somewhat similar enough taste to mine to make for some good chatting, despite his passion for Led Zeppelin and Pink Floyd (I try not to judge but it's difficult).

Best of all, he told me about an upcoming show in an unlikely location that I probably wouldn't have heard about otherwise. And this is why I talk music with strangers.

The male contingent wanted us to join them for dinner, but I had music plans. Sprout was hosting a show called "We, the Bearded" featuring Aquariums (from Tennessee), Nick Woods (of Orioles) and one of my favorite local collectives, the Colloquial Orchestra.

The C.O. billed this show as "100% less amps and 100% more accordion and harmonica"; this was a nod to the inclusion of Jonathan Vassar, the hands and lungs behind those two additions.

Nick played first and he was mid-song with his eyes closed when I took my seat. When he finished that song, he opened his eyes, noticed us newcomers and said, "It got more crowded while my eyes were closed."

Playing a new song, he ended it with, "Where did that come from?" after playing an unplanned C-chord. The audience certainly didn't have any idea. Favorite lyric: "I need a partner in crime." Close second: "I wanted this bridge to sound like Nirvana Unplugged."

Martin of Aquariums played next, explaining that his songs were usually performed with a full band, so we were hearing just the heart of the songs.

He boasted of having recently written two songs before noon and rewarding himself with a Mexican lunch. "Four margaritas and two beers. Then I took a nap." Favorite lyric: "A peck on the lips with a new love, more beautiful yet than your love."

Last up were the multi-talented Dave Watkins and his revolving crew, commonly known as the Colloquial Orchestra. He explained that there is always one practice session for a C.O. show, at which they decide who's playing what instrument and what music they'll play.

Dave then said, "At Sunday's rehearsal, Jonathan had a great song. We're not going to play that." What they did play was dulcitar, psaltery ( a triangular member of the harp/zither family and played with a bow), ukulele, accordion and harmonicas, resulting in beautiful music. Vocals were limited, although Jonathan's dulcet tones did show up during a few of the pieces.

The last time I'd seen the C.O., here, they were loud, electric, huge-sounding and, be still my heart, so post-rock sounding that I gushed to them afterwards in appreciation for the set I'd just heard.

Tonight's set was the complete opposite, quiet, unamplified, but still huge sounding in the acoustic soundscapes they were creating. It would have been dangerously close to acoustic post-rock if such a thing existed. And, yes, I gushed to them afterwards (but not until I'd had a teachable moment on the psaltery), but I think they're used to that.

Walking down Morris Street toward my car, I passed a trio, one of whom said hi and then, "I like your tights! A lot!"

That's the kind of trouble I got into with the Berlin tights tonight. The guys in front of the barbershop had nothing to worry about.

Walking in the Dark

It's an excellent night musically when I can start with one kind of music at 6:30 and end somewhere else with a completely different kind at 12:30.

It was the recent Folk Fest that landed me at Barrel Thief tonight for the Jason Jenkins Trio. At that mind-blowing Zakir Hussain show, I had sat next to a local drummer who had arrived as ridiculously early for the show as I had, so we'd had plenty of time to talk music, shows and audiences.

He had mentioned then that he was playing a show at Barrel Thief tonight and suggested I come by for some jazz to start my evening. I'll admit I was a little surprised when I arrived around 6:35 to find that most tables were taken and the remaining reserved. Luckily, there was a corner banquette with a low table in front of it with a great view of the band and I was ushered to it.

Taking Virginia Wine month to heart, I chose the Pollak Vineyards Meritage (a stellar blend of Cab Franc, Merlot and Petite Verdot) for my drinking pleasure throughout the evening and started with the olive tapenade, chevre and cucumber bruschetta.

Later, at my server's suggestion, I had the Chef's grilled cheese on rosemary foccacia, an interesting take on the standard, with multiple cheeses and sun-dried tomato spread. I do wish Barrel Thief had a wider menu.

My drumming friend and his cohorts were playing a variety of jazz standards to the obvious delight of the attentive audience, some of whom commented to the band between songs like old friends, or at least neighbors and frequent attendees.

During the break my drummer friend came over to get reacquainted and talk about what else we'd each seen at the Folk Fest after the tabla tour de force. He'd gotten to see Salsa Duro, the one group I'd really wanted to see and didn't, so he got to rub that in, telling me how amazing they were and why.

I left midway through the second set because I wanted to make the Wood & Steel acoustic show at Gallery 5 and I had to make a quick stop at home to exchange cute wine bistro platform shoes for standing-on-cement-for-hours shoes (boots, actually) before walking over; it was a most necessary transition.

I passed a utility repairman doggedly trying to restore power to the unlit street lights and asked him if there would be light by the time I walked home from the show; he assured me that there would be. Always good to hear.

When I arrived, Nick Woods was playing an earnest set, followed by Shannon Cleary, who sang his song about seeing Matt and Kim at the bike lot show and then seeing them Thursday night when the floor felt close to collapsing. Later we talked about the sinking feeling we shared that night about the strength of the Canal Club's flooring versus the enthusiasm of everyone's dancing.

Ophelia was next, but performing as a duo rather than a quartet. The crowd was too noisy as far as my friend and I were concerned, talking and laughing loudly over the heartfelt vocals of David and Jonathan.

My friend, who teaches at VCU, later told me that he could relate to being in front of a room full of people, many of whom were paying no attention to you. Still, it seemed a shame to drown out such beautiful harmonies.

Prabir and the Goldrush were next, doing their usual rock-your-socks-off set. When Prabir went to dedicate a song to a girl, violinist Treesa mentioned that her parents were in the audience, so the song instead went to them. Irreverently, it was followed by a song about smoking weed; no dedication necessary.

The final band was the trio Homemade Knives and they set up on the floor in front of the stage and the remaining members of the audience crowded around them, some sitting on the cold floor (not this girl) and others standing around.

Their haunting set ended with a much-slowed-down cover of Springsteen's Dancing in the Dark, because, according to lead singer Will, "covers are fun." It was an ironic comment considering that the somber and slow version they did of the up-tempo rock standard took the song to a whole new meaningful level and fun had nothing to do with it.

My friend offered to drive me home in case the street lights were still out, but I told him I was willing to go it alone. As I told him, what was going to happen, that I'd die on the streets of J-Ward on a Saturday night under a full moon?

"Worse things could happen," he grinned as he twirled his moustache, knowing I'd be just fine.

Do I have the option of being otherwise?