Going to Confession

Josh said it best. "I wouldn't come out for one band on a Sunday night, but for these two..."

It was a fabulous bill for an off night like Sunday and after a non-stop Halloween weekend at that.

I found my friends waiting at the bar and we immediately adjourned to the front table for the best possible view.

Music geeks at Table 1.

Local singer/songwriter Clint Maul was on first and started right on time. If The Camel isn't careful, people will begin to think they can do timely shows.

Even the often-problematic sound proved to be a non-issue tonight.

Clint did a handful of his famously short songs and closed with Do-Over," a song about relationships, one of many we heard tonight.

A friend had turned me on to the next band, Strand of Oaks, after listening to them obsessively the past few weeks.

Once I began doing the same, I felt her passion.

Well, maybe not the full extent of it ("Man, I really can't wait. I'm going to die so please bring your CPR manual."), but I was definitely hooked.

Their sound turned out to be everything we'd hoped for.

Mesmerizing and passionate with obtuse lyrics, they at times reminded me of post-rock (minus the vocals of course) and my friend of '80s classic rock with a little ambient sound thrown in.

Lead singer Tim tried describing his looks as like those of Frodo (and his bandmates as elves) and that devolved to Dildo, which made the audience laugh.

"It's good to laugh because these songs are f**king sad!" he told the crowd.

And they were, but beautifully sad, entrancingly sad, especially those written right after his house burned down and he got dumped.

The trio covered Moby and played a song about John Belushi's drug dealer in addition to playing a lot off their new critically-acclaimed album.

Tim said he tended to hurry through their set because of his eagerness to hear Crooked Fingers, understandable but the crowd would have loved a longer set.

Luckily, my friend has already asked them to come back to play a house show. Score.

And then the tall one ascended the stage with his band. Eric Bachmann's band Crooked Fingers were the main event tonight.

His wit became apparent at once.

"Thanks for coming out on the Sabbath. Except the Sabbath was really yesterday."

There's something wonderful about his voice; you hear the weariness of a life lived and with his tendency toward confessional songs, you feel like he's singing the journal of it all.

At one point he introduced his band, thanked them and thanked Strand of Oaks and Clint.

"I'm thanking everyone except Jesus," he said. "I hope that doesn't offend you. I doubt it does."

Band member Liz added her beautiful voice to the mix, killing it on "Your Control," a song on which the band originally dueted with Neko Case.

But the standout song of the evening was both voices on "Sleep All Summer," as achingly romantic a song as anyone has ever written.

We take our empty hearts and fill them up with broken things
To hang on humming wire like cheap lamps down a dead end street 
Close your weary eyes until the wintertime
And every time we turn away, it hits me like a tidal wave
I would change for you, but babe, that doesn't mean I'll be a better man
Give the ocean what I took from you 
So one day you could find it in the sand
And hold it in your hands again

Their emotional intensity had the crowd holding their breath until the last note.

And that was noteworthy, too. The people who came out tonight for this show were die hard fans.

You could have heard a pin drop during Crooked Fingers' set and that included the bar area, a true rarity.

Okay, what is this place and what have you done with the Camel?

And can this be the new Camel reality?

Bantering with the Best

One poet, three chefs, one scientist, nine musicians, one illustrator and one skateboarder with a cane.

After a day trip to the Rappahannock, I met up with one of my favorite people for, as she put it, "a glass of wine and unloading."

It turned into a couple of glasses at Six Burner, where I ran into two friends taking a break from drywall hanging and wineglass-breaking hounds.

My friend had had the day from Hell with her evil boss, she was missing her beloved who is out of town for another month and she was trying to decide what to do about a toxic friend.

If that kind of day doesn't deserve food and wine, what kind does?

We did a balancing act with a red and yellow tomato, feta and pine nut salad dressed with the lightest possible lemon juice and olive oil vinaigrette and a plate of fried oysters.

It's been proven that fried foods make everything all better, just like a mother's hug.

I don't know if we solved all her problems, but as usual, we had some great conversation and major laughter going on.

She's that rare person I can discuss both the Peacock Room and dangling love letters with.

Once she felt better, I drove over to the Firehouse Theater for The Listening Room, a musical highlight of every month and this month curated by Matt Klimas of Snowy Owls, one of my very favorite music geeks.

My seat had been saved for me between two friends, the charmingly loopy one and the one who likes to talk about people with me.

Clint Maul went on first, doing old and new material, including several short songs (his words) like "Ohio" and "Tilden Street."

Short and winding, it's the ideal street to memorialize in song.

He's only been songwriting since 2006, but you'd never know it by his material, which had an assured air to it.

Favorite line: "The girl's easy on the eyes but she's hell on the heart."

He was followed by Stolen Sheep, a trio from  Knoxville.

I'd met lead singer/guitarist George when I'd arrived and my love of reverb had come up.

'"We'll do some extra reverb for you," he generously assured me. "How do you feel about delay?"

For someone like me, the more pedal effects, the better, especially at the LR, where pedals are not typically part of the performances.

George said he'd had writer's block for three years and then sang the first song he'd written afterwards.

"I'm searching for a metaphor...I'm searching for a simile." Language geeks love that kind of lyric.

Last up was the Cinnamon Band and I was one of the few who'd seen this very electric two-piece band play an acoustic show at Ipanema Live last year.

They were unplugged again tonight and as a friend and I agreed, they're damn good either way.

Tonight they added an accordion player to flesh out their songs, adding a welcome folkiness to their sound.

The drummer was in rare form, teasing his bandmate about his lack of audience interaction ("Banter!" he commanded to no avail. "Your mother said you need to talk more.").

Despite having seen this band multiple times, I continue to enjoy seeing them live.

The songs are well written, the musicianship is good and they always seem to enjoy themselves.

Favorite lyric: Everybody needs a target that's easy to love."

The show finished at a civilized hour, so I took the opportunity to go to Secco, where I ran into a friend who broke his foot skateboarding and has been out of commission for weeks.

He's mobile with a cane now, but miserable at his long confinement. He likened it to the last week of summer vacation for a kid.

You've watched endless movies (he did four seasons of "Mad Men" in two days), played endless video games and you want to return to life as you knew it.

Sympathizing, I had a glass of the peppery Chateau de Roquefort Rose "Corail" while we discussed his accident (it wasn't a trick but trying to avoid a kid that landed him on his foot wrong) and a new DJ night at Sprout (third Thursdays).

He wants me to notify him before the next Listening Room. I get so many requests like that, I should hire myself out as a social secretary.

I met a visiting chef and former Richmonder (tattooed with a spoon) and enjoyed hearing about the restaurants in other places he's worked and how much RVA's dining scene has improved.

Everyone needs a restaurant target that's easy to love.

A group was discussing wedding rings and one of the servers suggested the groom-to-be get a ring tattoo, like he had done.

The bride-to-be thought that that was a bad idea.

"Why, because it's forever?" the ring-tattooed server asked pointedly and to great laughter.

"I'm going to divorce him after I finish school," she said.

In case of an easy divorce, it would be hell on the finger getting rid of that thing.

Surely there's a metaphor or simile in that.