The Camera Loves You

Maybe it's just me, but the day after a 10-hour party, an early evening is in order.

That it was also bittersweet, musical and full of friends was icing on the cake.

After a solo dinner at 821 Cafe eating black beans nachos and listening to thrash, I landed at Balliceaux in time to nab a front row seat for the screening of the new documentary, "Goodbye Garbers."

My expectation was that I'd see lots of familiar faces, which I did, including more than a few who also showed up in the film, making for lively conversations about punk glasses, post-punk, the seedy Safeway on Grace Street and the value of cover bands in the overall musical scheme of things.

Just promise me there'll never be a Dexy's Midnight Runners cover band, please.

And, oh, did we digress. What is up with millennials who, when asked what music they're listening to currently, always seem to respond in the distant past (shoegaze? Pink Floyd? Stones? what the hell?) instead of with bands who are their contemporaries?

Inquiring minds want to know.

Introducing the documentary was musician and first-time filmmaker Allison Apperson, who'd backed into the project when musician friend Kelly Queener suggested they make a video about the closing of the Garbers building in the Bottom, the premiere practice space for scores of local bands over several decades.

Allison was the logical choice since she not only had editing experience, but had even named her band after the renowned practice space. Only problem was, Kelly had said "video" and Allison heard "documentary" and the latter was what we were about to see.

For me, what was cool about the film was seeing footage of bands playing in the practice spaces subdivided into the 65,000 square foot Garbers Garage Door Company building. Kelly had begun as a painter there and only later picked up a guitar as an alternate means of creative self-expression.

A woman named Colleen actually lived there, making art and expressing gratitude to owner Carl Otto for allowing her residency (as well as props to anyone born in 1957 like she was).

Carl appeared onscreen several times, explaining how he'd inherited the space from his father-in-law and saw no reason not to rent out the unused parts of the building to musicians, calling it "the best security system" to have people coming and going from the building night and day.

Because of course bands are not going to practice much during the staid 9-5 worker bee time frame.

While I knew that Garber's was a practice space, before tonight, I'd had no idea of just how many bands had made music there.

The first had been Fat Elvis starting in 1986 - the year I came to Richmond - plus a long-time residency by salsa kings Bio Ritmo and lots more, including White Laces, Manzara, the Ar-Kaics, Diamond Center, Hot Dolphin and Snowy Owls.

All bands I'd seen more than once. Even the documentary's musical talking heads were people I knew. Several said the same thing, that you could hear the evolution of other bands' albums there. That musicians fed off the energy of each other. How terrific the sound was in the building.

Best of all, Carl referred to his young tenants as making an enjoyable noise, at least right up until the end of June when he closed the building in anticipation of selling it. To be fair, the man is going on 80.

Everyone I talked to afterwards was gobsmacked at what a fabulous job Allison had done on the film, which in no way came across as a first effort. Clearly, the Garbers building attracted people of multiple talents.

Even better, her sense of humor resulted in a caption labeling guitarist, DJ and all-around music geek Paul Ivey as "angry musician," a joke he didn't even notice during tonight's screening, while some of us howled.

Perhaps his new Brian Wilson tour t-shirt had him in a blissfully zen state where he didn't notice such silliness.

After the screening, Kelly's band, Peace Beast, took the stage to deliver the kind of live music that used to percolate at the Garbers building. Their brand of dreamy psych pop with two female vocalists was the ideal way to feel the magic of the Garbers scene that is no more.

From here on out, it'll just be the stuff of legend, although the documentary probably ought to be required viewing for up and coming young Richmond musicians looking for inspiration.

Even the so-called angry ones.

Daylight Licked Me Into Shape

I practically qualify for mayor of Balliceaux lately.

Let's just say that when I paid my five bucks to get in, the door guy said he didn't need to stamp my hand because he knows me (should I decide I wanted to come and go).

For the fourth time in eight days, I was back in the back room to hear live music, a testament to how much terrific talent is passing through there lately.

Playing first was Peace Beast, a band I hadn't seen since last August.

With two members from the Diamond Center and two from Roanoke, all I recalled was a female-fronted band, but that was enough to get me there.

Tonight's show reminded me what else I'd liked about them.

Kyle's guitar playing, Kelly's songwriting and the overall dreamy psychedelic mood of the music add up to my kind of music.

Kelly is an enigmatic frontwoman, though. It's hard to tell if she's enjoying herself despite the compelling lyrics coming out of her mouth.

Honestly, I hope she is, but for purely selfish reasons.

I was really excited to see The Garbers for the first time. Born out of the ashes of Hot Lava, I'd heard nothing but great things about singer Allison Apperson's latest pop project.

To tell you the truth, I already knew that if it was anything like Hot Lava, I was going to love it.

It was. I did.

Sunny and bouncy with lots of harmonies and the kind of keyboards that make it impossible to stand still, The Garbers grabbed the attention of even the pretty people and chatters in the room.

Earlier, drummer Giustino had said hello and we'd discussed his choice of a (red) polyester shirt on a night where he'd be working up a sweat.

Any drumming is work, but his is especially frenetic and energetic(attributable perhaps to 20 years in Bio Ritmo?) .

Now onstage, he also admitted that his corduroy flares were interfering with his abilities on kick drum.

Never one to be shy about making a fashion statement (I once saw his other project, Fuzzy Baby, perform as the Red Stripes in all red polyester), Giustin just rolled up his pant leg and drummed on.

The Garbers don't have a lot of music yet because they've only been playing together since December, but what we heard, infectious and poppy as it was, sounded like a great start for a future album.

In anticipation of the last act, my girlfriend and I took seats on the back of the front booth, enjoying unexpected seating with a view over the crowd.

Snowy Owls finished out the night with a vocal mic that had a mind of its own, coming and going at will.

No matter how many times I see these guys, I always find myself grinning ear to ear at the fuzzed-out sounds that scream "music from a cave," a genre near and dear to my heart.

There were lots of new faces in the crowd and more dancers than usual, so word must begetting out that they're a band to experience.

Pshaw, how long have I been saying that?

Leader Matt had told me when I'd first arrived to expect a new cover, but declined to share what it would be, saying it would be obvious.

From the first seconds as Brandon's drums led off into the guitars and inevitable, "Show me, show me, show me," the crowd went wild.

Dancing began in earnest as a roomful of people who were probably being conceived or born when the song came out went crazy (perhaps that explains the instinctual response).

And, the fact is, if you can't go crazy over a good song by The Cure, when can you?

From there they went back to original music, finishing with "Could" and hearing the crowd calling for an encore.

Why, it was just like heaven.

Tom and Jerry Saved Me

In terms of music, last week was an epic fail.

For the first time in I don't know how long, I went nine days without seeing a show.

Nine. Days. I may have lost my music cred entirely.

So it wasn't difficult to decide what to do today. Music times four.

Tom and Jerry got me started. Brain Jones et al were doing a live score of jazz, classical and pop music to old "Tom and Jerry" cartoons at the Camel.

The beauty of those cartoons is that there was no dialogue, so instruments stand in for voice and sound effects.

When a bra is used as a parachute in "Yankee Doodle Mouse," the simulated wolf whistle came from a  trombone.

And the last time I'd heard that trombone, which was courtesy of the inimitable Reggie Pace, was at the Bon Iver show at the National last month.

As cool as it had been seeing Reggie play in Bon Iver, and it was very cool, I was a whole lot closer to him tonight when he was playing his formidable trombone and triangle.

It's true; "Tom and Jerry" cartoons are incredibly  violent (although bloodless), which is exactly why you need all that percussion.

How else could you hear Tom bite into a clam shell sandwich in "Salt Water Tabby"?

Enter the uber-talented Brian Jones, a man who always salutes me when he sees me.

As hard as it was going to be to top vintage cartoon music, I knew it wouldn't be enough of a music fix after my recent drought, so I headed to Sprout afterwards.

It was tall people night there, so I didn't have a prayer of seeing more than an occasional head or leg of a musician, but I heard plenty.

First, Old Swampy played a short, swampy set for an enthusiastic crowd.

As a friend told me, "These guys are trouble makers." Or maybe that was treble-makers.

As an unexpected bonus, some friends rolled in toward the end of their set, so now I had amusing (and smiling) company for the duration.

Next San Francisco's Electric Shepherd came out of nowhere and totally engaged the crowd.

After the first couple of songs, a friend gave them the thumbs up with a big Cheshire grin.

I asked if that meant that he was enjoying revisiting 60s-era druggie music and he positively beamed. I took that for a yes.

If that sounds in any way negative, it's not.

The trio of Electric Shepherd was psychedelic, extremely dynamic and very into what they were doing (which almost came across like a soundtrack  or storytelling).

If not for the vocals, I would label it post-rock for how expressive and dynamic it was. I saw more than a few people buying their vinyl after their set, always a good sign.

There were a fair number of musicians at the show to check out a new local band, Peace Beast, with two members from The Diamond Center.

Their sound was very different than that band, and while I didn't stay for the entire set, they had an appealing sound with jangley guitars and girly vocals.

I will need to see them again soon to enjoy a full set.

Standing outside saying my goodbyes, I had a moment unlike any I've had in months.

No, not the self-satisfied pleasure of finally hearing live music again.

Chill bumps when I was outside.

It was a little cool standing outside Sprout after midnight.

I know everyone else  (besides the dress-loving Antonia and me) is happy that Fall is coming, but I wasn't ready for it tonight.

But I was definitely ready for music.