Start With a Song

It was all about the ampersand at the Listening Room tonight.

Just for the record, that's thirty one listening rooms and I've only missed one.

The only hitch tonight was that despite my early arrival, an interloper was in my seat, but I adjusted easily by moving to the front row and carrying on.

Birds & Arrows, a band I first saw in September 2010, was on first, but minus their cello player.

"So we're missing the 'and," guitarist Andrea said, acknowledging that the trio was a duo tonight.

After the first song, she had to tune her guitar, causing drummer Pete to tease her, "You got all Pete Townsend on that song."

They sang several new songs, like the lovely  "Coyote," mentioning how nice it was for them to get to play songs they'd just learned.

Because the Firehouse Theater is currently staging "Rocky Horror Picture Show," there was a large cage onstage.

"Sorry our go-go dancer couldn't make it," Pete joked.

That's something I'd have killed to see at the Listening Room.

They closed with a  Peter Gabriel cover, but not before Andrea admitted she had begun working on another cover this afternoon with her ukulele.

"You know that song 'Josie's on a vacation far away'?" she asked rhetorically. "Pete's already tired of me practicing it, but it's one hell of a well-crafted pop tune."

For tonight, we heard their stellar cover of "San Jacinto," knowing next time it'll be the Outfield.

As a bonus, and at the end of their set, they kissed.

It may have been a Listening Room first.

Favorite lyric: "Safety can break your heart."

Before introducing Philly's Honey Watts, emcee Chris exhorted the crowd to buy listening room t-shirts by pointing to Jonathan and saying, "We have a lovely model."

Basically, Jonathan opened his button-down shirt and flashed his listening room t-shirt at us, but we got the idea.

The duo of Honey Watts featured guitarist Catfish, whom I remembered being impressed with last time I'd heard him.

I was tonight as well, as was a photographer friend who leaned in and told me how much he was loving the guitar sound.

When an audience member asked where the band's name had come from, vocalist Liz smiled.

"My mind," she said.

She went on to say, "Because of the other bands here, we're gonna be Honey and the Watts tonight. But I want to be the watts."

Favorite lyric: "Stars sent down little blueprints for our souls."

Last up was Charlottesville's The Hill and Wood, who began by saying, "We'll start with a song and get to know each other."

My favorite way to get to know someone.

I was lucky enough to already know them from a show at the Camel in May.

There I'd fallen for their chamber/folk pop, well-written songs, keyboards and girl/boy harmonies.

Tonight was just as good without the annoying drunk bar crowd.

In fact, leader Sam mentioned how intimidating it was to be playing for a rapt audience for a change.

"Shouldn't you guys be talking or something?" he said in jest.

No, we shouldn't, not when we could be listening to such well-crafted music, like the exquisite "First Time."

There was a song sung in rounds, overlapping vocals and showing the group's strength in having four singers.

"We're just gonna keep playing the hits," Sam said  before playing "The Call," and mentioning the new Brooklyn-made video for it.

All too soon, their set was over.

Favorite lyric: "I've been given the chance to give in all the way."

Personally, I'd been given the chance to hear three exceptional bands with a side of Dixie Donuts.

Considering that chance came after Lee's fried chicken and before a discussion of Henry Miller and Roald Dahl at Ballcieaux, I'd say the evening was a lovely model for how to savor a Tuesday night.

Not to mention that it satisfied a good part of my soul's blueprint.

Something Comes from Nothing

Perhaps I should be concerned.

It's gotten to the point where my birthday celebrating is being acknowledged by complete strangers.

But friends, too. And it was with a very good longtime friend that I spent a few cocktail hours at Rowland.

She came bearing a perfect gift: pink bubbles (Casas del Mar Rose) and loads of stories about her recent trip to NYC, the orgy going on in her backyard this past weekend and her legacy (not at all what she thinks it will be).

Over a nice dry white Bordeaux, we snacked on some of the $5 happy hour appetizers including the butterbean cake and the pork schnitzel with a soft-cooked egg and tomatillo sauce.

Since we weren't first-timers at Rowland's happy hour, I was pleased to see that they change up their happy hour offerings.

Well, except the signature butterbean cake which should never leave the menu, if you ask me.

As we went to leave, a white-haired woman at a table spoke to me. "Happy birthday! Keep celebrating!"

Don't worry, I assured her, I do this all month long.

"You should! Enjoy it!" she said grinning ear to ear as her companion nodded.

How did they even know?

Honestly, I get the best stranger talk.

From there I went to the Belvidere for burgers (my quintessential birthday meal) with a different crew and, this time the chatter revolved around music (Grimes, St. Vincent and new Sigur Ros) and old friends (like Ben, the master of the one-liner).

It was especially interesting because we had three Geminis at the table, so although only four chairs were occupied, there were at least seven personalities present.

Invite us and it's an instant party.

Eventually the birthday revelry ended and I made it to the Camel for music to finish out my evening.

The first person I saw was Matt from Goldrush and he had an amusing story to share about a mutual friend who had called him out about they way a classical piece was listed in the symphony's program.

Seems that after giving Matt, who plays with the symphony and is their librarian, a hard time (deservedly, he admitted) he brought up my name (to show they had something in common, I guess).

I was less interested in that than the cigarette Matt had behind his ear since he's a non-smoker.

Seems it was about their absent drummer. "It's my tribute to Greg Butler," he informed me.

I'd have asked what happened to Greg but Matt was off for a beer, so I made my way to the front.

I'd heard such good things about The Hill and Wood and I loved that they'd named their band after a Charlottesville funeral home.

It took no time at all for me to hear what the buzz was about.

TH&W straddled that line between folk and chamber pop with well-written songs, male/female harmonies, keyboards and, for a few songs, the lovely addition of a horn.

"This is such a special occasion that we brought along our trumpet player," lead singer Sam said.

As an unabashed fan of what horns add to chamber pop or electro-folk or whatever TH&W are, I was sorry when the trumpet player left the stage after a few songs.

"Is everyone okay?" Sam asked. "Can we get you anything?"

A longer set maybe? A crowd that shuts the hell up so people like me or the music-loving friends I ran into tonight could actually hear the beautiful music the band was making?

No such luck so I moved in closer for their outstanding cover of "The Good Thing" by Talking Heads.

A straight line exists between me and the good things
I have found the line and its direction is known to me

For their last song, Sam asked plaintively, "If it's possible, we would love for you to listen."

I know I'm spoiled by the Listening Room, but should a musician really have to say that?

Sadly, yes, but fortunately they'll be playing the Listening Room in July so at least I can count on hearing every note then.

After the break ("More violin in the monitor!" is not something you hear everyday), the lights dimmed and singer Prabir of Goldrush yelled, "Welcome to the future!" as they began their set with a different Greg drumming.

I watched as Matt's head bobbed frantically as he played upright bass, the cig never budging from its lodging behind his ear.

Now that's a professional.

Because I've seen Goldrush many times, I was happily surprised to hear lots of new material, although violinist Treesa (looking adorable in her cute skirt and sweater) admitted that playing so many new songs made her nervous.

Prabir cured his nervousness his way. "If I could just get a shot of tequila, that would help a lot," he said mid-set to no one in particular and it was delivered not long after.

And consumed in short order.

It must have helped because they were smooth as glass for "Kiss and Make Up" to close their set and end my evening.

Friends, food, wine, music.

What was I worried about? I've got no reason to be concerned.

It's a straight line to the good things.

Okay, as straight as a Gemini gets.