Until the Songs are Done

I took the A6 - also known as the motorway to the sun -to a yard show.

Since it's Virginia wine month, I began the evening at Pasture for a glass of Cardinal Point Winery A6, the lovely Viognier/Chardonnay blend named after the road in France that links Paris to Lyon, a fact I know only because I poured for Cardinal Point at the Virginia Wine Expo two years in a row.

The restaurant was busy with some people even eating outside on the patio, a treat not to be missed on an October evening.

While I thought the rest of my evening would be spent indoors watching two favorite musicians play, I arrived at the address given to find a crowd gathering in the yard next door.

Following the light and laughter to what was clearly going to be a yard show, I saw a familiar face sitting at the front picnic table and promptly joined the Hat, a.k.a. the man about town, on his bench.

From our perch, we were facing a mural I hadn't seen before of black, white, gray and orange, depicting a quarter moon, a tee-pee and a suitcase dangling from a rope near the top of the mural. In front of the mural were several metal frames on which strings of white and orange twinkle lights had been strung. A lit jack-o-lantern sat in front of chairs for musicians and drums. Smaller lit pumpkins sat on the picnic tables.

It was like a Fall fairyland and an ideal place for a little night time music.

Sitting next to the Hat, I said hello to the Richmanian warbler, waved to the record producer, spotted the long-haired breakout musician, smiled at the fashionable keyboard player and her reclusive husband while smelling the candle burning in the pumpkin on the table behind us (humor centered around citronella versus sinsemilla).

A couple spread out an Indian print blanket and sat down on the grass in front of us Soon a second blanket appeared, then a third and forth, all of the same Indian-type print that used to hang from windows as curtains back in the '70s. Apparently they're back.

Josh Small played first, explaining that he'd set out to write a song about something other than himself and settled on the flower world. Except that when all was said and done, the flower song was also about him.

The man is not only musical, but very funny.

When he was introducing a song about farming, he admitted that while he often wore overalls, he may never have actually been to a farm. "I've been to a couple pumpkin patches," he offered. Invoking Burt Reynolds, he did a Jerry Reed song called "Papa's Knee." One of the great things about a Josh Small set is how eclectic they are.

It had been eons since I'd seen David Shultz play out but, in fairness, he and his wife did have triplets so the man's been understandably busy. He began by thanking Matt, the evening's organizer, saying, "The yard couldn't look more cozy."

While the staff from Lamplighter Coffee across the street dragged trashcans along the sidewalk and traffic from the downtown expressway rumbled by, David played guitar and sang lyrics like, "Would it be so bad to dance until the song is done?"

My answer? Never.

Singing "I can't, can't get away from you," the Hat leaned over and observed, "That's a double negative, you know." I did.

David brought up drummer Willis, who'd arrived straight from a volleyball game (he is kind of tall), and they did "The Farmer," Willis' deft touch on drums and percussion adding a lot to the song and then added in Curtis on pedal steel (which was also draped in twinkle lights) and Jonathan on accordion for Blaze Foley's "Clay Pigeons."

Curtis and David joked back and forth about the limited rehearsing they'd done for this show. When David introduced "Down the Road," Curtis said, "That's the one we jammed on for 16 seconds and then talked about the chords?"

"That's why David Shultz and the Skyline aren't a band anymore," David patiently explained."Because what I really want to do is go to your house and drink wine and talk about music."

Favorite lyric: The best laid plans are the ones that don't require a second thought.

We got a real treat when David and Jonathan brought up the very talented Grant to play mandolin so they could play some Ophelia songs such as "Hunter's Bow." Along with drummer Willis, that quartet had made some outstanding music as Ophelia a few years back.

"It's a sneak attack Ophelia reunion!" someone said. Lucky us.

They did "Easy Prey" but it was the aching of "One Too Many" ("One too many nights together or one too many nights apart") that knocked the crowd off its feet, sounding just as remarkable as it did when they first played it.

David and Grant did "Oklahoma Rose," a song they wrote together and a reminder how well those two harmonize, much like on "Days Go By," a song recorded by Grant's River City Band.

Jonathan's songs never fail to tug at the heart ("I'm on my way to being on my own") and it didn't hurt having Curtis' mournful pedal steel further ripping our hearts out.

They closed the show with "The Butcher" ("I got a quarter of a quart of wine") and sitting there listening to those familiar voices singing to the sky was a reminder of just how wonderful Richmond can be sometimes.

Sort of a musical motorway to the moon on a Fall night.

I am Listening, I am All Ears

What a difference a day makes, or 24 little hours of music all over the map.

Yesterday at 5:30, it was funksters Morris Day and the Time at the 2 Street Festival and today at 5:30, it was garage band Jacuzzi Boys at Steady Sounds.

Both were mere blocks away, making them irresistibly convenient ways to start my evenings.

Today, 30 or so of us gathered at my neighborhood record store to hear the Florida group bang through a half dozen songs as a prelude to tonight's show at Strange Matter.

One attendee spent the entire show with his fingers in his ears, but most people just rocked in place to the most basic of songs on a sunny late October afternoon.

Walking home, I could hear music still coming from the 2 Street Festival a few blocks down, so I took today's Washington Post out to my balcony to enjoy to the final strains of music on Clay Street.

Once it got fully dark, I came inside and made the simplest of suppers - an omelet from eggs I'd gathered at a farm recently - before getting ready to go out for more music and dessert.

Tonight was Live at Ipanema with Psalmships and Valdosta, singer/songwriter David Shultz's new project.

I found the front door to the restaurant propped open and a cute friend already warming up her bar stool when I arrived.

That was my cue to begin contemplating the dessert choices, eventually choosing blueberry pie a la mode.

About then, another friend came in and joined me, posing today's Southern Foodways Alliance topic for discussion: cake or pie?

"Team cobbler!" cute friend piped up cleverly before I could say a word.

After careful consideration, I stated for the record that if I could only have one or the other for the rest of my life, I'd have to pick cake.

I then proceeded to share my pie with the cute one until the show started.

Psalmships is Joshua from Philly and I'd seen him before at the Listening Room and at Sponge HQ.

What I recalled was his distinctive four-string guitar playing and raw, emotive voice and, like the prior times, his band had not made the trip with him.

What was annoying tonight was a gaggle of people at the end of the bar talking and laughing throughout his set, insulting the man's efforts to be heard.

Friend and I considered shushing them and settled for sending them withering looks which they were too busy talking to notice.

Excuse me, children, but this performance is being recorded and no one will want to hear your hyena laughs on the recording.

After a set of keening songs, Josh joked, "This will be my last song. I hope I brought you guys up."

He hadn't but that isn't really what Psalmships is about, rather it's that life can be cruel and you deal with it and move on.

After the break during which a lot more people arrived, David Shultz's new project settled into the tiny performing space.

Photographer PJ was kind enough to adjust one of the stage lights so it wasn't blinding me and we were ready to start.

Valdosta, the trio of David on guitar and vocals, Michael on bass and Willis on drums, was notable for how very un-Richmond-like they looked.

Despite how ingrained the three of them are in the RVA music scene, there was nary a beard to be seen.

It was clear from the first song that this new configuration has spent considerable time practicing together.

David's vocals, always a pleasure to hear, were easy and natural and it took him only until he sang "Bug Spray" to remove his glasses and set them aside.

This was about sound, not seeing.

"This is an old song called "The Room," David said. "It's from my very first album I ever made, back when I used to be David Shultz."

Ah, I remember those days.

I've long been a fan of Willis' stellar drumming and percussion skills and he and Michael provided strong support for David's song stories.

It was amazing how tight they sounded given that this was their first show out.

"The best thing that could happen when you have a new band is that all these people show up to hear it," David said. "Thank you."

Truly, the thanks should have been directed at the band and at the Live at Ipanema crew who keep delivering superb musical evenings to us.

In fact, I predict that as this project grows and if they add in more people, those of us lucky enough to have heard them tonight as a trio will always have the best of memories of what a special moment it was hearing them on an unseasonably warm Fall night.

You know, after hearing a band last night and another this afternoon, some people would have blown off yet another show tonight.

I can understand that, but they would have missed hearing the start of something extraordinary.

And blueberry pie.

Stepping Out

It was a low-key night to stay in the neighborhood and see old friends.

Deciding to start at Bistro 27 because I hadn't yet heard Chef Carlos' tales of his recent trip to Paris, I was regaled with details about a dish of pig stomach wrapped in prosciutto and deep-fried.

Be still, my heart.

While he told me of drinking endless Cahors while there (well, he is Brazilian so Malbec's practically in his blood), I went with a Pinot Noir.

I was surprised (although apparently not as surprised as the Parisians) to hear that they'd had snow while he was there.

While hearing his recounting of exquisite sculpture, the tiniest of French bistros and a side trip to Dusseldorf, my companion and I moved on to eating.

There was halibut bobo, a take-off on his mother's recipe for shrimp bobo, delivering succulent, perfectly-cooked halibut in the distinctive sauce of yucca root puree, coconut milk and palm oil, a dish with a decided African influence.

I reveled in the oil and garlic-cooked broccolini, along with bacon-wrapped scallops and lentils (easily my favorite lentils in town) and a taste or two of pappardelle bolognese ("Close your eyes and pretend you're in Italy," the fork's owner instructed me).

Finishing with a one-two punch of panna cotta and chocolate mousse, all of a sudden it was show time.

And not only a show for music's sake, but a benefit for Sub Rosa Bakery, so a very worthy cause.

Fortunately, the show was only two blocks away at Gallery 5, where we walked in to find Patrick Bates playing his second song.

I'd seen the quintet not long ago at the Listening Room and really gotten into their sound, but tonight there were so many talkers in the room that I was glad I already knew what they sounded like.

And I wasn't the only one, since two other people also commented to me that it was a shame people didn't shut up so they could hear the nuances of the music.

Later even drummer Kevin said he was reluctant to use the brushes he'd used last time for fear they wouldn't be heard.

One thing I like about this band (besides Patrick's songs, the bass player's sense of humor and Kevin's drumming), is that the other two people have enough talent between them to play accordion, keyboards, cello and sax.

Now that's versatility.

I ran into a few friends (two drummers, a man-about-town, several former Mermaid Skeletons and a gallerist wearing the grooviest '70s tunic ever) between sets and then the sextet the Clair Morgans took the stage.

I'd listened online to get a feel for their sound and from the first song heard the same energetic indie music live that the MP3s had promised.

Patrick Bates was also in this band playing guitar, bongos and something that looked like a xylophone.

We got a dose of humor when a song began before Clair stopped it, looking sheepish.

"The show was going great until Clair put his capo on the wrong fret," Clair deadpanned, making the capo correction and finishing the song as it was meant to sound.

Damn fine.

One of my favorite moments came when one of the guitarists pulled out a drum as Patrick pulled out his bongos, meaning along with drummer Michael, fully half the band was beating on something.

Since a drummer friend had only a few minutes earlier been telling me about his idea for an all-drum music project, I couldn't resist nudging him and getting a big grin in return.

Headlining was Hens, a quintet I'd recently seen for the first time, and one full of big guitar sounds and big talent.

After a few songs, guitarist/singer Josh Hryciak said they'd been jamming on a new song and would go ahead and play it now.

But before that began, he moved center stage and gave us a pelvic wiggle for the ages before returning to play the song.

The man is a showman par excellence.

"That's a baby song," guitarist/singer David Shultz made sure we knew when the song wound down unceremoniously.

Guitarist/singer Marcus Shrock took over vocals for one song, indirectly reminding the crowd what a super-group these guys are with so much talent from time spent in former bands.

The last song was one big extended soundscape, with all of them looking like they were having a blast making music together.

And what could be better than friends (and employees - Josh worked at Sub Rosa) and fans getting together to make and hear music to support the worthiest of causes, a local business?

Knowing that Sub Roa is one step closer to re-opening, that's what.

Missionary Work

Look how sunshine is the punchline.

A clandestine dinner at an undisclosed location brings up the question of the evening. How much pig does any one person really need?

Music four ways followed at Gallery 5. Walking in, I asked the ticket taker how soon till music. "In a second," he said as the poet shushed me from the first row.

At that moment, David Shultz began singing. Timing is everything.

We had arrived too late for seats, though, so we found a table at the back and leaned in to hear his songs of "every once in a blue moon" and "spirits ain't too frozen."

As much as I enjoy David playing with his band The Skyline, it's always a pleasure to hear his heartfelt songs accompanied only by his guitar.

Athens, Georgia's Hope for agoldensummer was up next and, while I've seen them before, this time they were as much a comedy act as a musical one.

Don't get me wrong; the harmonizing of two sisters is a thing of beauty, but as someone who has five sisters can attest, sisters have a unique bond and language.

These two were hysterical,doing a sound check to a song about THC and LSD and talking about their long drive down I-95 today to reach Richmond.

Apparently they decided to learn a Robin song. "So we have this awesome three-part harmony," Claire explained. "But it looks like we forgot it."

Forging ahead anyway, they asked what the song's first note was, guessing F.

Their long-suffering male band mate looked over at them (no doubt after an endless afternoon hearing them practice this pop throwaway) and with just the slightest bit of condescension said, "It's an A!"

Only then did we hear any Robin.

They told of going to a corn maze ("We love corn mazes") and getting lost for four hours.

They'd seen a sign at the concession stand saying that if you created a song about the corn maze, you got a free candy bar.

Tonight we heard the song that won them the candy bar.

There was instrument trading, anecdote sharing and saw playing.

It may quite possibly have been the only saw playing going on in Richmond tonight.

But it should be noted that there was also vox saw courtesy of Jonathan Vassar and Speckled Bird, hot off their recent Obama rally performance, and playing next,

"I have to tell you, Michelle Obama's arms are even more impressive in person," Antonia shared. Damn.

During some technical difficulties with Josh's cello (how often do you hear that?), Antonia and Jonathan brought out the banter.

They also brought out the music, beginning with "Cold River Cold" and mentioning their upcoming CD release show.

Standing there hearing Jonathan's sad songs and Antonia's angelic singing with Paul's horn and Josh's cello or clarinet reminded me how far their sound has come since I first heard them.

It was always Americana but now there's a beautiful lushness to it.

Last up was the Diamond Center, a band I've seen scores of times and love for their fuzzy psychedelic big sound.

And yet the show poster had promised that they'd be playing "acoustic-ish."

That was way too alluring to pass up hearing.

Where was all that noise, tribal drumming and volume going to go?

They solved that by being a two-piece instead of a four-piece.

Guitarist Kyle led off with, "It's warm in here. I'm as sweaty as a whore in church," before launching into the most ethereal TDC sound ever.

Brandy's voice and acoustic guitar met Kyle's quieter guitar playing (it was still a Rickenbacker, after all) for a stripped down and yet still swirling sound.

She warned us that Kyle was going to sing a cover next and he even apologized in advance for it.

Turns out they did an excellent cover of Velvet Underground's "Candy Says" as well as some rarely performed older songs from their last record.

"We need to record a new album," Kyle admitted. Indeed they do.

A highlight arrived when the duo invited nine people up on stage and gave each a pitch pipe.

Up there was Matt from Snowy Owls, Allison from the Garbers, Dave Watkins and all of Hope for agoldensummer."

"If yours has an A, play A," Brandy instructed. "If not, play D and don't pass out."

Everyone followed instruction and the song had a special charm for the accompaniment.

The show ended abruptly when they realized how late it was getting, but I already had my satisfaction.

I may never hear them play that way again.

Leaving G5, it was an easy two-block stroll to Bistro 27 for late night cocktails and dessert.

Everyone I take to 27 lately is loving on the Simpatico, a riff on a Negroni, but I went simply with Cazadores on ice.

And a chocolate mousse because it seemed like the least difficult dessert to request at that hour.

Over drinks and a stellar soundtrack, we discussed evangelism, travel, overindulgence, five-year plans and organized religion.

Not bad considering the hour, but some credit must go to the barkeep who kept things lively.

In the words of someone else, "Just another Friday night."

Hey, as long as my night has a good punchline, it can be just another Anyday.

But sunshine's as good an analogy as any.

You Can't Handle the Truth

It's funny. People don't say goodnight to me, they say "What's your next stop?"

Which is understandable when I'm asked at certain points in the evening, but I get asked it when events end at 10:00. And 11:00. Even midnight.

So I'm trying something new. Sometimes I'm going home instead of making a third or fourth stop.

Scandalous, I know.

Tonight I made two stops. That's it.

The first was at Six Burner for half-priced wine night with a favorite girlfriend. It was an interesting night. Oddly enough, we saw the owner serving tables.

When another server asked if I was having my usual pink, I opted instead for red. Raised eyebrow. "It's been an emotional couple of days and I want red tonight," I told her.

"It's more dramatic, too," she said, enabling me.

Later, the bartender kept forgetting about us and finally said, "Next time just throw a shoe at me to get my attention."

All I wanted was another glass of the Gabriele Rausse Cabernet Sauvignon. It hardly seemed like shoe-throwing was in order.

Besides, we were slurping oysters. The roasted oysters with horseradish, bacon, Parmesan and roasted red pepper were a good way to get in the mood for the Shockoe on the Half Shell Festival this weekend.

After a couple of hours of chatter about her new husband's long-awaited return from his cross-country trip and some of my male "admirers" coming out of the woodwork en masse, we made to leave.

"What's next?" she asked. Okay, fair enough at 7:30.

It was the Listening Room, putting me back at the Firehouse for the third night in a row, but the first for music.

First up was Grant Hunnicutt, who usually plays upright bass in the River City Band and Ophelia, playing guitar tonight.According to him, he'd brought in a few "ringers," namely Jessica from the Jungle Beat and Jonathan Vassar, not that he needed anyone.

With his new CD about to be released, he played songs of Jonathan's, songs he and Jonathan had written together and, as he put it, "old super hits."

Favorite lyric: "Where you are now is my home and where I'll stay."

Saying he was going to play one of his favorite Ophelia songs, he zoned and called to David Shultz, "What's the first line?" before launching into a stellar rendition.

It was a pleasure to see Grant front and center for a change. He's such a  low-key guy but so talented, with or without ringers.

During the break, the scientist arrived, full of energy after a busy day teaching VCU students about plant life's asexual reproduction.

In a high point of the evening, he demonstrated how he'd shown them just that. It was so funny I made him repeat it at the next intermission.

Russell Lacy played his long-delayed set next. He'd been scheduled to play last February but had been in a car accident.

"This song is about Virginia. I was out of the state for a while. Funny how you miss home," he said by way of an introduction.

He had a fine voice, tender and at times almost bluesy. My musician friend suggested that he'd listened to a lot of James Taylor.

"Here's one I wrote after my wreck," he said, beginning with the lyric, "I always pray a little too late." The song came across beautifully heartfelt. "As long as you don't die, you can get a good song out of it," he explained philosophically.

You have to appreciate a musician with a sense of humor.

The intermission afforded me a chance to enjoy a piece of Thai tea Tres Leches cake with salted caramel made for the occasion.

And speaking of occasions, today was David Shultz's thirtieth birthday, so after he walked onstage and scooped his guitar off the bed (part of the set for "Cat on a Hot Tin Roof"), the audience burst into "Happy Birthday."

It was at that point that the scientist leaned over and pointed at David and quietly said, "That guy sells me all my latex gloves for the lab. It's a lot of gloves."

I swear I couldn't make this stuff up.

And then David, minus the Skyline, got down to singing.

Favorite lyric:"Something's drawing me to you. Must be madness in my bones."

He also covered Paul Simon's "Gumboots," saying he just recently learned it. The crowd ate up his version of the song and its spirited delivery.

Promising two more songs ("And then we can all enjoy our evening"), he began a song, promptly forgot the lyrics, grinned and stopped.

"And that song was called The Falling Tree," he said sheepishly. "That song's really good when you do it right."

His entire set had been really good and who knows, maybe thoughts of his birthday celebration were crowding his mind.

David's a Listening Room alum and what's an occasional missed lyric between regulars?

It was as I made my way to the door after the show that the absence of good-nights became clear.

When asked, I shocked more than a few people with my intent to go home.

It's good to know I can still surprise people.

Be Here Now, Be Now Here

I didn't get kissed, despite tempting fate with garlic breath.

It didn't happen at tonight's "Trio of Troubadours" show at Sponge HQ at the Anderson Gallery.

As the man-about-town quipped upon leaving, "We got absorbed at Sponge tonight."

Come on, that's so bad we have to give him high marks for saying it out loud.

Sponge HQ is the studio of Hope Ginsburg, who teaches felt-making at VCU, so her top floor studio, with its bright green walls, houses felt objects and supplies, art books, a large aquarium and a beehive.

The beehive resides in a screened room at the top of six stairs within the studio.

The wooden box with its slanted sides is home to a good-sized honeycomb and scores of bees. Her beekeeping suit hangs on the outside of the little raised room.

What better place to enjoy a little folk music on a Sunday night?

A wall of windows gave us a view of the roiling sky that deposited next to no rain just before the show.

Attendees brought food to share, including the loveliest baba ganoush, which came with a warning from its maker, a devoted music fan, that serious garlic breath would result after eating.

The kind that would keep vampires away, she said.

"It's not like I'll be kissing anyone tonight," I told her, digging in.

"It always happens when you least expect it," she laughed. Pshaw, I told her I was looking for a garlic-lover anyway.

Hope had put a honeycomb in a bowl and the honey that dripped down from it was enjoyed by those who stuck a finger into the bowl to collect a taste.

She assured us that honey had antibacterial qualities, so we didn't have to worry about cooties (not that I was).

The studio had a window unit air conditioner which had to be turned off for the unamplified show, but the warmth didn't make its presence known until things were almost over.

Jonathan Vassar was up first and began with a couple of songs usually done with his band, The Speckled Bird.

"I don't know why I'm doing all these Speckled Bird songs," he wondered aloud. "The Speckled Bird is here, just without their instruments."

He did one song by his other side project, Ophelia, as well as a song I hadn't heard him play in ages, "See a Man about a Dog" and an even older song he'd written in high school.

That was for his parents, who were in the audience, but he proudly noted that he hadn't teared up at their presence for a change.

A seamless transition delivered Philadelphian Chris Kasper to the front of the room.

Having seen him before, I was looking forward to his set.

He admitted his affection for RVA and its music scene and noted that we should stop by his hometown and "See Independence Hall and have a cheese steak."

Chris is a good songwriter with an engaging voice and those hearing him for the first time were quickly won over.

He spoke of fans who recorded shows, "And it's nice to have the archives, but sometimes it's just about being in the moment. And tonight is like that."

Being there in the moment tonight meant we got to hear several songs as yet unrecorded, so our memories will be the only record of them.

In our 24/7 documented world, I really appreciated his emphasis on the here and now.

Chris brought his musical partner-in-crime Kiley up for a few songs and she added violin, vocals and dimples to the last few songs, excellent additions all.

Favorite lyric: "I will not turn my back when love is speaking."

David Shultz had drawn the closing spot by default.

As I was parking my car, I'd seen him walking down Franklin Street. Rolling down my window, I called to him.

"Excuse me sir, but don't you have a show to perform?"

He allowed as how a guy sometimes needs to clear his head and continued down the street.

But he made it back in time for his set, taking the front stool and asking of Hope if the bees were asleep for the night (they were, she said).

Jonathan provided harmonica and harmonizing for the first few songs, including an Ophelia number.

He covered Paul Simon's "The Obvious Child," inviting the audience to provide the drum parts (some did).

It was great; like Chris Kasper, he played new stuff to an attentive crowd before returning to established material.

Favorite lyric: "Just because you're losing your balance doesn't mean you're falling down."


Just because you spend the evening in a room with bees doesn't mean you'll get stung.

Take it from there.

From Monk to Minimalism

I can only be the poster child for doing things by myself for so long before I crave friends.

Tonight's odyssey began at the VMFA for their weekly Jazz Cafe, tonight featuring Monk's Playground, a quartet that re-imagines Thelonious Monk's music for an electric guitar-led group.

I hadn't been to the Jazz cafe in months so I was  surprised that it wasn't nearly as mobbed as it had been last winter. More options at this time of year, I suppose.

But I found a seat and settled in to listen to the group's interpretations of Monk with a crowd clearly more familiar with him than I. Which is not to say that I didn't enjoy the music a lot; I just lacked familiarity with it.

I'd be the first to admit that about all I know of the great composer/pianist is that he's the second most recorded jazz composer and he only wrote seventy-some songs.

As a bonus, the sun was slowly setting behind the Pauley Center (the former Home for Confederate Women), making for a stunning  visual to accompany the seminal music. I didn't get that last winter.

A couple of sets in, I was getting hungry, so I drove the few blocks to Acacia for dinner. The barely populated bar had plenty of room for me and there was a new bartender in place.

After a taste, I chose the J. Mourat "Collection" Rose, an elegantly dry pink wine made from Cabernet Franc, Negrette and Pinot Noir to sip while making my food choices.

I was reminded that Chef Dale had driven to the river to get softshells yesterday, but decided to go more in a tasting direction.

Starting with the tempura-fried squash blossoms with chive mascarpone was a choice as seasonally appropriate and short-lived as softshells.

I love when squash are flowering and begin showing up on menus all over town. The delicate flower is really about the tempura and the mascarpone was decadently rich and flavorful. I came this close to ordering another plate of them.

Instead, I tried the fried wontons over seaweed salad. The crispy wontons were filled to bursting with a flavorful mixture of chicken and cabbage, much enhanced by the seaweed and accompanying honey/soy sauce. I was two for two.

I decided to end on a richer note, choosing the rabbit raviolis with roasted mushrooms in a rabbit jus. Three good-sized hat-looking pillows contained the delicate-tasting shredded rabbit which sang when dipped in the jus.

For dessert I had more Rose while the bartender and I discussed the best brunch spots because it's the only meal he and his girlfriend can eat out together due to their nighttime schedules.

That led to a discussion of cooking eggs, a subject on which he was passionate. For whatever reason, not everyone in the business can do eggs well, much to his disgust (he's a former cook). I have a good friend who says the same thing.

We finally wound up our discussion so that I could go to Sprout for a show where I knew I'd see all kinds of friends and hear some interesting music.

And the friends were there and I even made a new one. A girl introduced herself saying, "Have we not met officially? I feel like I see you everywhere."

That's a line I've heard literally dozens of times, causing others around me to nod in acknowledgement.

One of the bearded ones piped up with, "Karen! She's everywhere you should be!" I appreciate a good smart-assed comment when I hear one.

I couldn't have asked for a better musical start to the night than recent transplant Nelly Kate, a girl capable of a dense sound thanks to her looping abilities.

She sang, she played guitar, she banged on a wooden box, she scratched said box and it all became part of a bigger whole.

Her experimental pop and little girl voice made for an entrancing sound and I was sorry her set was so short. Hopefully now that she's in RVA, we'll see her play out more often.

Broken Fences were from Pittsburgh and their sound was more folky, with two guitars and a male and female voice.

At times, their songs put me in mind of old English folk songs like "Greensleeves" or "Black is the Color." There was no denying that they made pretty music.

Last up was the dynamic duo of Jonathan Vassar and David Shultz of Ophelia (minus bass and drums) and tonight the focus was on David.

He did some of his own material, they did a couple of Ophelia songs and he closed with a Paul Simon cover, as the adoring crowd yelled encouragement.

Good as the music was, one of the unexpected pleasures of the evening was the return of a favorite couple who've been  traveling since February.

They got back early and it was great to see them and talk to them after their absence. As she said, "It's so great not to have to be nice to new people all the time now that we're home."

And isn't that what friends are for, so that you don't have to be nice all the time?

Nobody would believe it if I tried it anyway.

Live Music Heard Right

The first rule of The Listening Room is fairly self-evident, but tonight Josh Small had to explain another rule when somebody's cell phone rang during his second song.

"You can talk on phones, it's okay. That's an amendment to the rules."

His no-so-subtle hint was taken seriously, although the old white-haired guy down the row from me continued to text throughout.

Too bad for him, though because Josh is an energetic performer and well worth watching, constantly tapping his foot and moving his shoulders.

After beginning with a boogie-woogie number with an Ode to Joy riff, Josh told the audience, "I'll continue my tuning show," a reference to the two guitars and banjo he'd brought to play and then launched into the closest thing to a love song he'd ever written, according to him.

There was a song about his grandmother, a pseudo-metal song he qualified with, "I mean, it's not metal but it's serious finger-picking" and finished with a Nilsson cover song, requesting of the other two performers that they also close with a cover.

The lovely Liza Kate's hushed performance began with her saying, "This must be how it's supposed to be.. in a good way."

There was a tribute to her mom, followed by a song that she said was "like four days old. It might be a preemie, I don't know."

Tuning her guitar afterwards, she playfully called it "doing a Josh Small cover."

With Liza's delicate voice and gentle playing, she is the ideal artist for the listening room environment.

The crowd listened with collective bated breath so as not to miss a syllable.

David Schultz, sans Skyline, closed the show by beginning with a tune (The Butcher) that will be on the new Jonathan Vassar/David Schultz collaborative album they're currently recording.

His second song was, like Liza's, a song written specifically for this show, a habit he said began back in the days before he had a band.

He had to pause mid-song to recall how the next part went.

"Tomorrow I'll be unloading a shipping container of latex gloves, " he told the audience, "Nights Ike this make that bearable."

David played songs from all three of his group's albums in stripped -down versions that were beautiful.

Per Liza's request, he finished with a John Prine cover, delighting the audience.

Pitching for all the musicians performing tonight, David said, "And there are CDs for sale in the back. And they're really good!"

The same could be said for the musicians that the nearly full house got to hear tonight.

You may want to mark your calendars for February 23 at 7:30 for the next Listening Room show.

Music begins promptly at 8, so don't be late.

That's the third rule of the Listening Room, just so you know.

Tonight I Have To Leave It

Probably the only advantages of being dumped by someone you love madly, but can be difficult to get to know, is that out of the blue, certain people seek you out and want to be your friend.

Such was the case with my pre-March neighbors who said they'd always wanted to socialize with me but didn't care for my partner (although, to be fair, they didn't really know him). I'd run into them recently and yesterday found me at a big party at their house, a place I'd always longed to see from the inside. The building was originally a butcher shop and now it's an art collection in which they make their home.

The house is chock-a-block with the owner's extremely inventive sculptures and extensive collections. No surface and no wall is not full of art and/or history.

There are vintage signs and clocks, historical artifacts like coins and cannon balls and the most amazing poison bottle collection adorning every window. There was a mobile taller than me, original works by underground and comix artists and an insect collection of scarab beetles.

I was given two tours of the place and wanted a third because there was so much to see.

But it was, after all, a party, so I denied myself more art ogling and went back to socializing with a most eclectic crowd: a restaurant owner, several artists and writers and a soon-to-be farmer, among others. The owner has a single cowboy friend he wants me to meet. I had intended to spend an hour at the party and was there for much longer.

Luckily, my friends know how to throw a party right: an obscene amount of alcohol, an enormous and varied food spread so guests could graze constantly without getting trashed and music loud enough to enjoy but not overwhelm conversation. When I finally left, it was with the assurance that we'd meet up again and that I would definitely attend their holiday soiree.

Next up was the Bro-Down at the Camel, to benefit Big Brothers/Big Sisters; in a brilliant musical stroke, the show featured five sets of local musical siblings.

I was treated to the company of Micheal (of Now Sleepyhead and Pedals on Our Pirate Ships) for the first few sets and enjoyed the benefit of his musician's take on the show before he had to go work the sound.

It began with the Burton brothers, Scott of Glows in the Dark whom I've seen many times and Taylor of Cold Toast, whom I've only seen once. Their set was the perfect start to the evening.

Next up were the Scolero sisters and jeez, what beautiful voices those two have. Then came the Hyrciaks (Josh of Mermaid Skeletons and Zach of the Jungle Beat) and that, too, was vocally mesmerizing. The Shultz brothers followed with their always excellent music and then Prabir and Herschel took the stage for covers and banter.

The big finale was All You Need is Love, performed by all the sibling groups.

At that point, I hadn't left enough time for stool sitting and socializing, so I came home like a good girl. I even started this blog post before deciding it could wait until morning.

So good morning.