Do I Know You?

It was a good night for random guys to talk to me.

Curious about what Harvard Graduate School of Design students might come up with, I went to the Virginia Center for Architecture for the opening of "Menokin Revealed."

You might not know what Menokin is, but I do, at least I have since attending a lecture at the Virginia Historical Society in 2012 given by David Brown who wrote a book about Menokin, a highly terraced 1769 home on the northern neck.

Recalling slides he'd shown of a house that had mostly collapsed on itself, I was curious to see what overly-educated students came up with for restoration ideas after spending four days on site.

Hardly surprisingly, with no budget parameters, the twelve students dreamed big, envisioning towers, catwalks, visitor centers, bridges and just about any other architectural features of which they could conceive.

As I was looking at one based on Native American "canopies," a man approached me and asked my name.

Turns out he's a trustee of the Menokin board and wanted to know if I knew where Menokin was.

He was surprised that I knew it was outside of Warsaw and I was surprised that he'd heard of my parents' tiny little crabbing village.

"If you live out there, you know where everything is," he assured me, asking if he could show me something.

"Something" turned out to be a scale model of the actual restoration that will be done to Menokin, which bears no resemblance to the students' visions.

Instead, they intend to take the pieces of the remaining walls, add supports and a roof and finish all the missing areas with glass walls. You'll once again be able to see the river over the treeline from the second floor.

Even better, paneling and furniture removed from the house 40 or so years ago when they realized it was falling apart will be returned to its rightful place and re-installed.

"I'd like to see a pavilion on the grounds, too," the trustee said. "Someplace that would make Menokin a cultural destination for the northern neck, a place the symphony could come and play."

Well, you know I was all about that idea and assured him that people like my parents would be, too.

By the time he'd finished showing me all the models and explaining everything, a good part of the crowd had left. I'd been so fascinated with hearing about the plans that I'd lost track of time and the opening was officially over.

Thanking my unexpected guide, I left for the VMFA's jazz cafe to see M. Law and the Modern Prophets of Jazz, mainly because I keep seeing the name at venues around town and knew nothing about them.

First surprise? M. Law is a woman (Mary Lawrence Hicks). Second, she plays trumpet. Third, Larry Branch, whose quartet I'd seen last week plays piano in this group.

Finding a place near enough to see and hear, it wasn't long before a guy walked by, winked and said hello, he'd be right back.

I was a little surprised at his boldness, until he came back from getting a beer and stopped to ask if I remembered him (um, no?). Gallery 5, a few weeks ago, yadda, yadda.

In my own defense, tonight he was wearing a sweater and that night he'd had on a bulky coat because G5's heat wasn't working so he looked different to me. Or maybe he just hadn't been that memorable, although I appreciate anyone who swings from Gallery 5 to VMFA's jazz cafe.

He invited me to join him at his table, but I was just fine where I was listening to the band's improvisational takes on standards as well as some interesting original material against a backdrop of people strolling through the still snow-covered sculpture garden.

M Law wasn't much for between-song patter, so one song followed another for non-stop music. I have to say, it's satisfying seeing a woman blow a horn, especially in a dress.

Once that ended, I went straight to Cafe 821 for eats, joining the throngs for thirsty Thursday.

From my bar stool, I had a constant clutch of people behind me, not just ogling the tap list (because they were all $2 off tonight) but discussing what to order with their friends.

After the fourth or fifth group, I could conclude that, for most guys anyway, the overriding factor in choosing a beer was the alcohol percentage.

They were all pretty bummed when the 10% stout keg tapped out and they had to make do with a 7% second choice.

Don't get me started on our over-saturated beer market.

Without such things to worry about, I savored the pleasures of a perfect plate of black bean nachos with punk music blaring loud enough to drown out the conversation of the rest of the room.

Until a guy sat down at the end of the bar, looked over, looked again, and asked if we had met.

Sure had. He'd been seated next to me during my fried chicken dinner at Saison recently, where we'd talked about the primal pleasures of eating with your fingers.

Funny the people who recall you when you show up elsewhere and out of context.

Leaving the thirsty hordes to their discounted rail drinks and beers, I moved on to Balliceaux for a terrific double bill of Way, Shape or Form followed by Annousheh.

Getting my hand stamped to go in, I happened into a conversation involving pools of vomit.

Promising to do my best, the one guy looked at me and said, "You don't seem like a pools of vomit kind of girl."

Thanks for noticing.

I'm not going to lie, I fell for Way, Shape or Form's prog-influenced indie pop with just enough post-rock to seal the deal last January when I first heard them, becoming a complete convert once I spoke to leader Troy afterwards and learning that we'd both been at the same Pinback, Tortoise and Minus the Bear shows.

No wonder I liked them so much given the overlap in our musical taste.

Joined by a friend who'd never heard them, I had the pleasure of hearing how much someone else was impressed with the jangley, syncopated guitars and odd time signatures.

It's always fun to introduce a fellow music-lover to a local band to whom I'm devoted.

And Annousheh, well, that's just guilty pop pleasure, 80s-sounding songs done '90s alternative style. radio-ready and delighting the crowd no end.

Plus instead of random guys, I got to talk to friends - the dance party enthusiast, the newly blond minimalist, the tango teacher, the brilliant bartender, the new WSoF fan - making for a fine finale to my evening.

Nothing guilty about the pleasures of the right kind of conversation paired with live music...especially absent pools of vomit.

Love 'Em and Leave 'Em Fast

Eat local. Drink local. Listen local.

The way I was brought up (with a Richmond grandmother in the house), Sundays meant fried chicken for dinner.

Conveniently for me, Saison, mere blocks from home, does fried chicken on Sunday nights. All the family tradition, none of the work. Like.

I found a seat at the bar, took note of the football score and ordered Espolon and a quarter chicken.

"Light or dark?" was the bartender's only inquiry, while one of the servers stood at the end of the bar mouthing "dark, dark" to me.

Don't waste your energy, friend, I was already going dark, despite once having had my hand slapped for that preference.

A date had cooked fried chicken for me and when I kept helping myself to the dark pieces, he finally called me on it, claiming the last thigh for himself.

Here there was no one to chide me, so I enjoyed my crispy dark pieces with cole slaw and long-cooked green beans, tonight's designated sides.

The couple next to me soon paid their bill to leave for dinner at Rappahannock, causing the bartender to ask them to wait.

He put a lidded condiment container in front of them and asked if they'd deliver the shot to one of the bartenders at Rappahannock.

Shot of what? Shot of...soda, he said.

They agreed and were off while I went back to sucking bones and greasy fingers.

There wasn't enough time for dessert because my ultimate destination was Gallery 5 for music, so after a brief discussion of the opening of J-Ward's latest, the Rogue Gentleman, I walked a block over to show my ID and see the Low Branches new single release show.

I was pleasantly surprised to find that it was a seated show, so I staked out a chair before mingling to chat with friends.

The instrument-maker talked about his long-term plan for a workshop. The historian wondered why she hadn't been sent the invitation to the show. The fuzzmaster said he was pleased with Friday's set.

Flu was a big topic because one of tonight's performers (Jonathan Vassar) had it, necessitating Annousheh doing a solo set to take his place.

I've seen her play with and without her band, but there's a purity to hearing just her voice and keyboards.

She did some familiar songs like the well-written "The Trouble I Find" and some equally impressive new ones done "against my better judgment," she said.

She finished with her exquisite slowed-down cover of "In the Air Tonight," a song that always reminds me of a Phil Collins interview where he said the only thing that will go on his gravestone is, "Phil Collins, He wrote "In the Air Tonight."

Truth is, her version is far more aching and haunting than Phil's ever was.

It was during that song that I looked over and saw a friend walk in, a friend who'd been on the other side of the world for the past seven months.

During the break I got up for a hug and a hello, hearing him describe that time as "tentative and exhilarating," probably an apt description for climbing rock faces, teaching schol and living without running water.

A baker at Aziza before he'd left, he's already taken up employment with Sub Rosa, detailing what a crazy re-opening weekend it had been for them.

The Low Branches' singer, Christina, had told me a little about the second band, whom I'd never heard of: Rodney "the soul singer" Stith.

Seems she and Rodney ran into each other at the grocery store many times and one of them, they discussed the song playing in the store, leading to finding out that they were both musicians.

Rodney had a backing band he referred to as "the soul system" for that voice, made up of drums, guitar, bass, keyboards and violin, leaving Rodney to sing and play guitar.

And sing he did, in a voice that channeled every vintage R & B singer worth his salt, and beginning with "Calling Out" to show how he could use that voice.

Saying he needed some participation, he then asked the crowd to sing out as the band did pieces of "California Dreamin," "Losing My Religion," "Little Red Corvette" and even the Backstreet Boys' "I Want It That Way," a song that had certain members of the audience, Christina included, dancing in their seats in delight.

Me, I was amazed that so few people knew the words to "Little Red Corvette," as masterfully metaphorical a rock song as has ever been written.

During their set, I saw more friends arrive, this time the formerly-prickly one and his charming girlfriend, so I waved them over to the two empty seats in front of me.

The band returned to original material with "a new one, hot off the press, so hot it still has ink smears on it," a song Rodney described as about how women take men for granted, hurting them and moving on.

"Just Leave Me" had him putting his guitar down to stand and sing emotively like a true crooner, all hand gestures and closed eyes.

Reminding the crowd that tomorrow is MLK day, they closed with "Free at Last," integrating U2's "Pride (In the Name of Love)" to great effect and again soliciting the audience to sing along.

Hearing the friend next to me belt it out, I now understand why she's a karaoke queen. Such a voice.

Fortunately, there were more U2 fans than Prince fans among the crowd and it was a rousing and fitting tribute to King.

Afterwards, I turned to a friend, commenting that we see a lot of bands, but never anything like straight-on soul. I'd really enjoyed it.

During the break, I chatted with an old rocker about my recent acquisition of a Grin CD, a band I knew he'd remember (he did) and with his girlfriend about the painstaking cinnamon rolls she'd made from scratch using the Cinnabon recipe.

She told me she loved my hair and he told me it was interesting and we discussed the difference in the two statements. Men and women, never the twain shall meet.

But things ended on a high note when another friend told me, "I need more you in my life."

When Low Branches took the stage, it was with Annousheh playing keyboards, a first for the many times I've seen the band play.

Now that they no longer have a drummer, Josh is back on cello instead of bass, a welcome treat since his playing adds so much to their sound.

Christina thanked everyone for coming out on such a cold night and I didn't have the heart to tell her I came to share body heat since there wasn't any extra at my house.

They played songs I knew but had never heard with the addition of keys, and then she said in her quiet voice, "This song goes out to all the ladies. This might have happened to you...yea," and trailed off.

Dolly Parton's "Jolene" gets 'em every time with its lyrics about knowing that your man secretly pines for another woman and Josh plucking that mournful cello.

For their new release, "Rain Song," Adam from Nick Coward and the Last Battle joined them on trumpet and with Annousheh playing keyboards, it was a beautifully lush sounding arrangement of a song I've heard a few times, but always far more pared down.

A friend had told me earlier that he thinks "Rain Song" was the best thing they'd ever done and not just "indie good," but the kind of song that could be a real hit, even with west end moms.

He's got a point there.

Partway through the song, Christina hit the wrong note, something I've not heard her do, and the look on her face was hysterical, but the band just paused and started a do-over, ending perfectly.

"We seem really serious up here but really, we're always just trying not to crack up," she explained.

This from a woman who prides herself on mournful songs. She once gave me a CD labeled, "Sad folk songs for Karen's birthday" and it was some of the loveliest sad stuff you can imagine.

But I've also seen her laugh plenty, too, so I understood what she meant.

Next they did "Rain Song" again, this time in Turkish, followed by a Turkish folk song, both appropriate because Christina leaves for vacation in Turkey soon where she'll no doubt eat, drink and listen locally.

And with any luck, come back knowing "Little Red Corvette" in Turkish.

Everybody Dance Now

Luckily, you didn't have to be 100 years old to attend.

Tonight was the album release show for the Low Branches, that band that had been a duo when I first started paying attention to them two and a half years ago and has now grown to a quartet.

They grow up so fast, don't they?

It was a cold but fast walk three blocks to Gallery 5 to find all kinds of favorite people there: the stylish friend and her cute husband, the music buddy sans boyfriend, the scientist, the beekeeper, the musician and light show wizard.

All the fun kids.

Starting the show was Dogs on Main Street, also known as Mac, looking particularly dapper tonight in a shirt and vest.

I've seen Mac probably half a dozen times, but I continue to be impressed by how his craft has developed over time.

His interesting growl of a voice always commands the room and inevitably, when he pulls out his harmonica, someone near me notes, "I love harmonica."

Tonight it was two different female friends. I'd work that if I were you, Mac.

"This song is new. It's about me It's called "Sledgehammer," he announced with no further explanation.

The audience was surprisingly quiet for his set, no doubt caught up in his earnest songs.

Partway through he said, "I'm going to switch it up," and put down his acoustic guitar for his electric.

Favorite lyric: Love don't depend on the time of day.

Before his last song, "Reckoning," he said, "I want to thank Christina for asking me to play tonight. Annousheh is next and she's gonna be great. Much better than listening to me up here bleeding."

Mac's self-deprecation skills continue to develop right along with his music, a humorous bonus for his audiences.

During the break, the scientist came up to say hello and I immediately asked if he had chocolate (he usually does) in his pocket.

Instead he was carrying Gummis and proceeded to pull out a pocket knife to open the bag and willingly shared with the group.

All at once, a friend came trotting over, saying she was hungry and had seen the candy.

Another friend introduced me to his date, who surprised me by knowing who I was, having read my blog all last summer.

"I felt like I was in your life," said the lovely stranger.

Now there's a 21st century situation.

Next up was Annousheh and my love for her well-crafted pop songs is a matter of record.

It had barely been three weeks since I'd seen her play at Balliceaux, but the set list was rearranged for us groupies tonight and Depeche Mode was nowhere to be found.

That might have been just for the pretty people crowd.

A girlfriend and I had taken up spots right in front while another friend perched on the steps leading to the stage.

From the first notes on her keyboard, it felt like time to dance.

Friend and I proceeded to bop in place to the hook-heavy songs until the beekeeper came over to say she wanted to dance but her boyfriend didn't.

Isn't that always the way?

A glance around, though, proved that while there was some female swaying going on, most males were rooted in place like oak trees.

Given how dancey her new album "The Trouble I Find" is, it was tough to comprehend.

After the set, I asked a guy near me why more people hadn't danced.

"Everyone wanted to," he said seriously. "But you never know what people's reasons or reluctance are about."

Is there anything better than a Saturday night philosopher? I think not.

A friend came up during the break and joined our little group and before you know it, she was talking about her youth.

When she reminisced about smoking weed in her bedroom with her girlfriend and exhaling through a sock out the window, another friend about lost it.

"I don't know what we thought the sock would do," she said, laughing just as hard.

Memories light the corners of our minds.

It seemed to me that the crowd was even bigger by the time the Low Branches started their set.

Tonight was their first time playing as a foursome with the addition of Blasco on drums, so a fuller sound was inevitable.

Singer Christina, looking lovely with a rose in her hair, began by saying the unlikeliest of things," I know we don't exactly seem like a dance band, but you can dance if you want. I love to dance!"

I'm here to say that nobody danced, but then the achingly beautiful songs don't really have a dance beat, if you know what I'm saying.

"Our new album is called "100 Years Old" and it's dedicated to my parents," she said, then realized how that sounded. "But they're not 100 years old. Ooh, I'm glad they're not here."

The band sounded terrific with Josh on electric bass, Matt's full attention on guitar and Blasco filling things out on drums.

In fact, there were several songs which he took to a whole new level with his drumming.

At one point, feedback became an issue and Christina stopped singing so Josh could check the amp, meanwhile telling us, "Our bass player Josh is our technician," causing Josh's girlfriend to yell, "Woo!" from the middle of the floor.

In a perfect world, technicians would get as much audience love as musicians.

Their last song was a show-stopper, not because it was their last, but because the song was so incredible that the room felt like it stood still.

Favorite lyric: You can't stop a storm, can you?

Afterwards, everyone around joined me in raving about how strong/breathtaking/catchy the last song had been.

"I feel like that was like '70s A.M. gold," the photographer gushed.

Well put, my friend. Just don't ask me to exhale through a sock.