Once upon a time, when my life was very different and so was the Richmond music scene, a new concept took hold.
It was November 2009 when the Listening Room opened up the basement doors of the Michaux house and welcomed in anyone and everyone willing to shut up and listen while the music played, here.
Back then, it was so refreshing to be able to go to a show where you knew you'd be able to hear every note, every harmony. And the string of twinkle lights would reliably fall from the low basement ceiling every time.
Like death and taxes, some things are certainties.
Tonight marked the end of that remarkable string of shows with the final installment of the Listening Room at the Firehouse Theater.
One thing about tonight was non-negotiable: I was going to sit in my usual seat come hell or high water.
So I arrived early enough to stake my territory and hang out with the LR crew whom I've gotten to know over the years. Emcee Chris saw me and said, "I'd have been devastated if you hadn't come."
As if.
When I finally took my seat I was joined by my favorite Jackson Ward couple, also long-time LR regulars.
A few minutes later, photographer Rob, part of the original crew, came over to bring the three of us glasses of bubbly to celebrate our nearly half a decade allegiance to the Listening Room.
One of the LR rules is that shows start on time but tonight's was a tad tardy with emcee Chris taking the stage to acknowledge as much.
He shared that the very first night of the series, Apropos Roasters brought coffee but forgot to bring a grinder. Now, almost five years later, they have an actual coffee shop. Time marches forward.
Appropriately, tonight's first act was Dogs on Main Street, also known as Mac, a fine singer and musician I first saw at the Listening Room back in February 2011 when he was the first one to inaugurate the move from the Michaux House to the Firehouse.
I've seen him many times since and he only continues to sound less raw and more poignant, although the one thing that hasn't changed is his stellar self-deprecating sense of humor, in full flower tonight.
After his first heartfelt song, he explained that over the next few songs he was going to take us low and then lower and then back up and even higher. "So don't leave," he warned. "I'm not responsible for what happens if you do."
Anyone who had left (no one did) would have missed his second song ending abruptly when a string on his guitar snapped.
He'd come down from NYC on a Greyhound bus and so hadn't brought his usual second guitar. "I'm crashing and burning," he joked.
Mark of second band Vandaveer stepped out of the shadows and offered him a pack of guitar strings, asking, "What do you need?"
A guitar, Mac said and used Mark's to continue while Mark graciously took Mac's guitar backstage to restring it in the meantime.
Singer songwriter and LR originator Jonathan Vassar was called onstage and brought his wife's maternity accordion to join Mac for a song, an obvious mutual admiration society.
"You know what you get for trying to be different?" Mac asked us rhetorically. "A broken string!"
He chose to skip the song called "Gallows" even after he got his guitar returned and restrung, cracking wise saying, "I have download cards, postcards and an overdue credit card."
My favorite lines was, "I'm just an alley cat yearning for something more than this," at least until he played a new song and I heard him sing, "I guess my sins are at an even keel."
Saying that he was still going to be beating himself up about the broken string when he went to bed, Mac shared that at his release show at the Camel, he'd kicked his own cord out. "So what you saw tonight is pretty regular. Come talk to me after the show if I don't seem too unbearable."
Talented, yes. Hysterical for sure. Unbearable, not even a little. Dogs on Main Street is the epitome of what the Listening Room is about.
Talented musician with excellent songwriting chops and distinctive voice is introduced to music-loving masses and becomes part of local scene.
Tonight's crowd was understandably big and I felt a little sorry for those whose first LR was tonight. Imagine experiencing this and knowing it will be no more.
Once the second act began, the LR crew took the stage for a sort of mass farewell. Jonathan entreated us to keep listening. Antonia explained that there were people here tonight who'd been at that first Firehouse show seeing Mac and asked that those of us who'd been at the very first Michaux House show raise our hands.
We were a small group, but undoubtedly with some of the fondest memories in the room.
As he always does, Chris reminded us that the audience was 50% of the LR's success formula and even said, "Karen's been to more Listening Rooms than I have." The man didn't lie.
Next up was Vandaveer, a band I consider my May band. I first saw them in May 2011 and then again in May 2012, meaning I was overdue for my May Vandaveer fix.
They've been on a living room tour since April 1, covering over 13,000 miles with 3,000 left to go before the end of the month.
Leader Mark explained that he lived in Arlington, Virginia, singer Rose in Massachusetts and pedal steel player Tom was from Pennsylvania.
"For those of you keeping score, we play commonwealth music," he cracked. Literate humor, I like that. And if you ask me, it's better described as poetic music.
And I don't just like his voice, I adore his voice, which, as the girlfriend sitting next to me observed, "I even like his speaking voice." Uh huh.
Their sound is sort of alt-folk with his acoustic guitar bumped up with just enough reverb to tread near rock territory but Tom's pedal steel and Rose's exquisite voice on harmony and sometimes lead anchoring things firmly in LR territory.
When Mark mentioned that Tom was a Civil War buff who had spent some hours looking at Richmond's historic sites like Cold Harbor, he called us the birthplace of entrenchments.
"We used to make out there," my friend said leaning in as he husband sat oblivious on the other side of her.
The buoyant "However Many Takes It Takes," a song about perseverance, a subject I know well, won my vote for the line, "I'll be in the kingdom of your dreams."
"Sometimes it requires all arms and legs be on the ground to solve technical difficulties," Mark said at one point, pulling stuff out of the power strip in front of him and then flinging them over his shoulder. "None of that was necessary but it was for dramatic effect."
Dramatic aptly described his voice and Rose's over Tom's pedal steel or slide guitar and each song shimmered with the talent of the three. We couldn't have asked for a finer band to finish out the Listening Room.
For a soulful song about the coming apocalypse, Mark said, "There's nothing you can do except snap and sing along," which is about what I plan to do when the apocalypse finally does arrive.
Off their album of murder ballads from last year ("We sold dozens and dozens of that album"), they did "Pretty Polly" as Mark put it, "Modernized for your contemporary ears." That meant instead of guitar, he sang and stamped on the wooden floor.
We got another from that album when Rose sang "The Drunkard's Doom" and about brought the house down with her exquisite voice, sort of Emmylou Harris-like.
Then there was more literary humor when Mark told of writing a song because of Beverly Cleary and I wondered how many people in the crowd knew who she or Ramona Quimby had been.
Saying he couldn't call it "Ramona" because of Dylan's "To Ramona," he'd titled it "Beverly Cleary's 115th Dream," although he admitted that he didn't know that it was really her 115th.
Peace and love and harmony
and all the things that lovers need
Like hope and health and clarity and time
Oh, precious, precious time
And, just like that, the final Listening Room wound down. Mark called up the entire LR crew - Antonia, Jonathan, Chris, Rob, Nate- and Mac for the big singalong finale, Tom Waits' "Come On Up to the House."
I've no doubt that some of that crew got a bit misty up there singing because I know the long-time regulars in the room felt that way.
It was a really good run and the Listening Room set new standards for shows in this town. Oh, and the bands I discovered through being at almost every Listening Room. All the people I met there.
But it's not the end of the world, It's just a closing of the circle. It's run its course and now we'll have Listening Room Presents shows on an occasional basis.
What matters most is what Jonathan said. Keep on listening.
You better believe I will.
Showing posts with label dogs on main street. Show all posts
Showing posts with label dogs on main street. Show all posts
Wednesday, May 21, 2014
Sunday, January 20, 2013
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.
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.
Tuesday, May 22, 2012
I'm on Fire
Growing up, my birthday meant cheeseburgers.
My five sisters weren't thrilled about it, but that's what I picked for my birthday dinner year after year.
So naturally when I drove out to the Northern Neck today to have lunch with the people who spawned me, my Mom served cheeseburgers.
And in lieu of birthday cake, hot fudge sundaes for dessert.
Is it any wonder I try to celebrate my birthday with as many people as possible with options like that?
After an afternoon at the river, I came home to get cleaned up and meet a friend for a birthday drink.
He was having a screwy day (his words) and couldn't choose where to take me, so I defaulted to Bistro 27 so I could walk over after so much car time earlier.
We toasted my beginning with Briccodi-dei-Tati Rose and talk of the difference in Frenchmen and Italians (attitude).
Although I wasn't terribly hungry after my burger bash, we noshed anyway on small plates.
Fried calamari, tomato bruschetta and a delightful Asian-inspired dish of Chinese broccoli, onion and duck confit kept us busy until a visiting Philadelphian joined our conversation.
We switched to Chester Gap's 2009 Merlot ("when it was 2009, it was a very good year"), but only after all of us tasted it and none of us guessed that it was Merlot.
It was big with notes of cherry and herbs and a lingering finish, all of which made my companion insist I order dessert to accompany it and further celebrate my upcoming big day.
You don't have to twist my arm.
The chocolate fondant cake arrived with a pink birthday candle alight and everyone at the bar joined in singing happy birthday to me.
The only way to follow such a fine birthday second installment was with, what else, live music.
A two-block walk deposited me at Gallery 5, where I walked in to hear, "Karen's here," from the back of the room.
I found some friends, although not as many as I would expected given the stellar bill.
First up was Dogs on Main Street, whom I've seen before, so I could appreciate his humor three songs in.
"I forgot to introduce myself," Mac said. "I'm Dogs on Main Street. Yea, I know. Don't grammar me!"
I enjoy Mac's earnest sound and everyman lyrics, but especially his self-deprecation.
He explained how thrilled he'd been when River Whyless had contacted him to play the show, saying they'd found him online.
"I didn't know I could be found," he deadpanned. "So I've been practicing for three days straight and this afternoon I blew out my voice. Now I sound like a thirteen-year old girl."
Which he did not. His melodic growl of a voice was just fine for songs like "Home" and "Williamstown, Massachusetts" and he closed with a killer version of Florence and the Machine's "Shake it Out," done doggy (on Main Street) style.
My favorite thing about Low Branches' set was getting to hear new songs ("Love happens naturally, There's no use in trying") in addition to some from their last record, which I have and love.
They were short a member tonight with cellist Josh not in attendance, although lead singer Christina not only pointed to where he'd be on stage, but when he would be playing.
Although usually shy on stage, tonight she shared how she'd done the Church Hill yard sale yesterday only to watch all the customers flock to the "salmon cornbread guy" next to her, although she didn't understand what salmon cornbread was.
That makes two of us.
And lo and behold, she said the salmon cornbread guy was in the audience tonight.
No doubt he was as tickled as I was when, for the last song, Christina called Mac onstage and said, "Turns out Mac and I share a beautiful thing called a love of Bruce Springsteen."
Launching into "I'm On Fire," I can't quite express the satisfaction of hearing the demure Christina singing, "Only you can cool my desire. I'm on fire."
It isn't quite up there with hearing her cover Nine Inch Nails' "Closer," which one of my favorite couples had said they'd give anything to hear her do, but it was still stellar.
Asheville's River Whyless was up next and they caught my ear right off the bat.
During sound check, violinist/vocalist Halli sang, "Oh, Lord, won't you buy me a Mercedes Benz? My friends all have fifteen-passenger vans, cause they're all in bands."
She also took an audience poll to decide what color wine to drink during their set (red won).
The band had a baroque pop sound with lush vocals, lush instrumentation and literate lyrics ("I'm not searching for perfect, I'm perfecting my search").
Aren't we all?
We heard the three (four?) part suite "Stone," which could only be described as epic with its plucked violin, hand clapping and three-part harmonies.
Okay, so I was completely taken with their sound.
They played almost all of their CD and in order, too, because, as guitarist and songwriter Ryan said, "We figured we put them in this order for a reason."
As they layered voices and instruments for soundscapes that filled every inch of Gallery 5, the audience was as quiet and attentive as if it were the Listening Room.
Well, except for one couple in the back and who talked and laughed loudly through their set, but the loss was theirs.
By the time their set ended, many in the audience stood to applaud because of how impressive they'd been.
I was one of them; as the musical component of tonight's birthday bash, they were superb in delivering a kind of music of which the birthday girl-to-be is very fond.
Wow, if I'm already having cheeseburgers and chamber pop two days in advance, this looks to be a pretty amazing birthday celebration before it all winds down.
Which, according to my friend Gregg, should be sometime around mid-summer.
And the problem with that is...?
I'm just perfecting my search for the perfect series of birthday celebrations.
To paraphrase Christina, there's no use in not trying.
My five sisters weren't thrilled about it, but that's what I picked for my birthday dinner year after year.
So naturally when I drove out to the Northern Neck today to have lunch with the people who spawned me, my Mom served cheeseburgers.
And in lieu of birthday cake, hot fudge sundaes for dessert.
Is it any wonder I try to celebrate my birthday with as many people as possible with options like that?
After an afternoon at the river, I came home to get cleaned up and meet a friend for a birthday drink.
He was having a screwy day (his words) and couldn't choose where to take me, so I defaulted to Bistro 27 so I could walk over after so much car time earlier.
We toasted my beginning with Briccodi-dei-Tati Rose and talk of the difference in Frenchmen and Italians (attitude).
Although I wasn't terribly hungry after my burger bash, we noshed anyway on small plates.
Fried calamari, tomato bruschetta and a delightful Asian-inspired dish of Chinese broccoli, onion and duck confit kept us busy until a visiting Philadelphian joined our conversation.
We switched to Chester Gap's 2009 Merlot ("when it was 2009, it was a very good year"), but only after all of us tasted it and none of us guessed that it was Merlot.
It was big with notes of cherry and herbs and a lingering finish, all of which made my companion insist I order dessert to accompany it and further celebrate my upcoming big day.
You don't have to twist my arm.
The chocolate fondant cake arrived with a pink birthday candle alight and everyone at the bar joined in singing happy birthday to me.
The only way to follow such a fine birthday second installment was with, what else, live music.
A two-block walk deposited me at Gallery 5, where I walked in to hear, "Karen's here," from the back of the room.
I found some friends, although not as many as I would expected given the stellar bill.
First up was Dogs on Main Street, whom I've seen before, so I could appreciate his humor three songs in.
"I forgot to introduce myself," Mac said. "I'm Dogs on Main Street. Yea, I know. Don't grammar me!"
I enjoy Mac's earnest sound and everyman lyrics, but especially his self-deprecation.
He explained how thrilled he'd been when River Whyless had contacted him to play the show, saying they'd found him online.
"I didn't know I could be found," he deadpanned. "So I've been practicing for three days straight and this afternoon I blew out my voice. Now I sound like a thirteen-year old girl."
Which he did not. His melodic growl of a voice was just fine for songs like "Home" and "Williamstown, Massachusetts" and he closed with a killer version of Florence and the Machine's "Shake it Out," done doggy (on Main Street) style.
My favorite thing about Low Branches' set was getting to hear new songs ("Love happens naturally, There's no use in trying") in addition to some from their last record, which I have and love.
They were short a member tonight with cellist Josh not in attendance, although lead singer Christina not only pointed to where he'd be on stage, but when he would be playing.
Although usually shy on stage, tonight she shared how she'd done the Church Hill yard sale yesterday only to watch all the customers flock to the "salmon cornbread guy" next to her, although she didn't understand what salmon cornbread was.
That makes two of us.
And lo and behold, she said the salmon cornbread guy was in the audience tonight.
No doubt he was as tickled as I was when, for the last song, Christina called Mac onstage and said, "Turns out Mac and I share a beautiful thing called a love of Bruce Springsteen."
Launching into "I'm On Fire," I can't quite express the satisfaction of hearing the demure Christina singing, "Only you can cool my desire. I'm on fire."
It isn't quite up there with hearing her cover Nine Inch Nails' "Closer," which one of my favorite couples had said they'd give anything to hear her do, but it was still stellar.
Asheville's River Whyless was up next and they caught my ear right off the bat.
During sound check, violinist/vocalist Halli sang, "Oh, Lord, won't you buy me a Mercedes Benz? My friends all have fifteen-passenger vans, cause they're all in bands."
She also took an audience poll to decide what color wine to drink during their set (red won).
The band had a baroque pop sound with lush vocals, lush instrumentation and literate lyrics ("I'm not searching for perfect, I'm perfecting my search").
Aren't we all?
We heard the three (four?) part suite "Stone," which could only be described as epic with its plucked violin, hand clapping and three-part harmonies.
Okay, so I was completely taken with their sound.
They played almost all of their CD and in order, too, because, as guitarist and songwriter Ryan said, "We figured we put them in this order for a reason."
As they layered voices and instruments for soundscapes that filled every inch of Gallery 5, the audience was as quiet and attentive as if it were the Listening Room.
Well, except for one couple in the back and who talked and laughed loudly through their set, but the loss was theirs.
By the time their set ended, many in the audience stood to applaud because of how impressive they'd been.
I was one of them; as the musical component of tonight's birthday bash, they were superb in delivering a kind of music of which the birthday girl-to-be is very fond.
Wow, if I'm already having cheeseburgers and chamber pop two days in advance, this looks to be a pretty amazing birthday celebration before it all winds down.
Which, according to my friend Gregg, should be sometime around mid-summer.
And the problem with that is...?
I'm just perfecting my search for the perfect series of birthday celebrations.
To paraphrase Christina, there's no use in not trying.
Monday, July 25, 2011
Birthday Presence
I freely admit to disappointment if I go to a birthday party and there's no cake.
At The Richmond Scene's two-year party tonight, the cupcakes were huge, there were two kinds and they had been baked by the mom of Chris Payne, TRS's founder. Cake was present.
But most people were there for music, not cake. The four-band bill promised some excellent variety over the course of the evening.
Arriving at The Camel mere seconds before the bands started, I slid over to the bar for some bar food, planning to move to the stage side of the room after I ate.
I had a clear shot of the stage when Dogs on Main Street (aka Mac) took it. It was maybe the third time I'd seen him and I continue to be impressed with how invested in his performances he is.
As I watched and ate, I had a steady rotating cast of friends stop by to say hi as they passed by from the other side. It was like playing musical dinner companions without asking to play.
Then there are the friends who seem to sniff you out when you have, say, black bean nachos, and then claim to feel guilty when you insist they have some.
No, really, I won't judge you for helping me with my nachos. I'm happy to have the help.
Eating accomplished, I asked the bartender for my check, only to be told, "No, you can't leave."
There's always one bully at a birthday party. Anyway, he relented.
I arrived on the stage side of the room just as Dave Watkins began playing.
After having recently raved about Dave's debut CD, due out in two weeks, here, it was nice to hear some live improvisation on the heels of that.
From my perch on the wall, I had a great view of both Dave and the people around me who had never seen him before.
One by one I watched them nudge each other ("Man, look at what he's doing!") as they tried to figure out how one guy was making so much sound ("Can you see him?" one guy asked incredulously of his buddy).
Pay attention, boys, you may learn something.
Between sets I caught up with various friends and was introduced to a guy I see at shows everywhere. He said the same of me, so we thought it about time we met.
Baseball-sized vanilla and chocolate cupcakes were passed around the room for the cake-obsessed (I wasn't the only one, it turned out) and the merely festive.
When Snowy Owls were introduced, it was with the admonishment to move closer because, "These guys are a rock band."
I would be more specific and say they are of the nu-gaze mode, with lots of fuzz and moody vocals.
My pleasure comes from lead singer/guitarist Matt, whose inner shoegaze rock god always comes out with this band, but also because I am rabid about the "music from a cave" sound.
In a new twist, bassist Allen Bergendahl had me mesmerized tonight with his contribution to the band's essence.
There were some screaming bass lines that epitomized what I like about the band's sound and the quality of the sound was so much better than it had been at their last show.
By the time their set was over, the air conditioning had chilled our little group to the point that we joined the smokers outside just to warm up.
No establishment has re-calibrated their thermostats since it stopped being 120 degrees in the shade, making dressing for summer problematic indoors after a while.
When I said goodbye to a girlfriend, she gave me a look. "You're leaving before me? Wait, where are you going?"
She didn't believe me when I said home.
Truth be told, I'd celebrated The Richmond Scene, enjoyed three excellent sets of music and had a cupcake.
I could leave the birthday party happy.
At The Richmond Scene's two-year party tonight, the cupcakes were huge, there were two kinds and they had been baked by the mom of Chris Payne, TRS's founder. Cake was present.
But most people were there for music, not cake. The four-band bill promised some excellent variety over the course of the evening.
Arriving at The Camel mere seconds before the bands started, I slid over to the bar for some bar food, planning to move to the stage side of the room after I ate.
I had a clear shot of the stage when Dogs on Main Street (aka Mac) took it. It was maybe the third time I'd seen him and I continue to be impressed with how invested in his performances he is.
As I watched and ate, I had a steady rotating cast of friends stop by to say hi as they passed by from the other side. It was like playing musical dinner companions without asking to play.
Then there are the friends who seem to sniff you out when you have, say, black bean nachos, and then claim to feel guilty when you insist they have some.
No, really, I won't judge you for helping me with my nachos. I'm happy to have the help.
Eating accomplished, I asked the bartender for my check, only to be told, "No, you can't leave."
There's always one bully at a birthday party. Anyway, he relented.
I arrived on the stage side of the room just as Dave Watkins began playing.
After having recently raved about Dave's debut CD, due out in two weeks, here, it was nice to hear some live improvisation on the heels of that.
From my perch on the wall, I had a great view of both Dave and the people around me who had never seen him before.
One by one I watched them nudge each other ("Man, look at what he's doing!") as they tried to figure out how one guy was making so much sound ("Can you see him?" one guy asked incredulously of his buddy).
Pay attention, boys, you may learn something.
Between sets I caught up with various friends and was introduced to a guy I see at shows everywhere. He said the same of me, so we thought it about time we met.
Baseball-sized vanilla and chocolate cupcakes were passed around the room for the cake-obsessed (I wasn't the only one, it turned out) and the merely festive.
When Snowy Owls were introduced, it was with the admonishment to move closer because, "These guys are a rock band."
I would be more specific and say they are of the nu-gaze mode, with lots of fuzz and moody vocals.
My pleasure comes from lead singer/guitarist Matt, whose inner shoegaze rock god always comes out with this band, but also because I am rabid about the "music from a cave" sound.
In a new twist, bassist Allen Bergendahl had me mesmerized tonight with his contribution to the band's essence.
There were some screaming bass lines that epitomized what I like about the band's sound and the quality of the sound was so much better than it had been at their last show.
By the time their set was over, the air conditioning had chilled our little group to the point that we joined the smokers outside just to warm up.
No establishment has re-calibrated their thermostats since it stopped being 120 degrees in the shade, making dressing for summer problematic indoors after a while.
When I said goodbye to a girlfriend, she gave me a look. "You're leaving before me? Wait, where are you going?"
She didn't believe me when I said home.
Truth be told, I'd celebrated The Richmond Scene, enjoyed three excellent sets of music and had a cupcake.
I could leave the birthday party happy.
Thursday, July 14, 2011
Mad. Mad World
Stop the world. I want to get off.
If one more thing happens before I try sleeping tonight, I think my brain will shut down. Are everyone's planets out of alignment at this moment in time or is it just mine?
Going to Sprout for dinner and a music show temporarily lulled me into thinking that the world was finally righting itself.
The chicken salad over mixed local greens with bacon vinaigrette was a savory marriage of flavors and full of greens I couldn't even identify (always a good thing). I thanked the two people who had recommended it to me.
And the music was strong tonight. Dogs on Main Street (really one dog named Mac) began with the folk classic "This Land is Your Land," a song I can remember singing in elementary school
Saying, "I felt like I lost a friend the past few weeks. This is for Clarence," he launched into a rousing cover of "Badlands."
He was clearly getting hot up there (as dogs do on steamy July nights) and cracked wise, "Is the air conditioning set on Mexico?" before wiping his face of accumulated sweat. Being hot, though, did not affect how good he sounded.
During the break, I saw a friend who a) told me that he and another musician are recording a Christmas album and b) asked me about Jane Goodall and her chimp for the sake of updating his status.
After a while, you don't ask why.
It was my second night in a row for The Great Unknown, so I got to hear a lot more songs as well as a full drum kit on the songs I'd heard last night.
At one point, the girl standing next to me turned to her friend and stage-whispered, "These guys are amazingly good. They're from Philly!" I couldn't tell if she thought the two were mutually exclusive.
Favorite lyric:
My window is half full of clouds and it's open
And I'm inviting the weather in
I totally get that. My windows are always open and the weather, like the sounds of train whistles and birds singing, come in unbidden, but not wholly unwelcome.
And the continuing weirdness I find awaiting me when I get home? That would be any number of e-mails from friends full of crazy content.
"Thumper's mother said if you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all."
"You are looking at the latest job fatality. I am now a permanent woman of leisure."
"Just sitting here fantasizing about you in a pair of leather chaps. Wow, I must have one hell of an imagination to imagine that. Titillating nonetheless. "
[Sound of Head Exploding]
If one more thing happens before I try sleeping tonight, I think my brain will shut down. Are everyone's planets out of alignment at this moment in time or is it just mine?
Going to Sprout for dinner and a music show temporarily lulled me into thinking that the world was finally righting itself.
The chicken salad over mixed local greens with bacon vinaigrette was a savory marriage of flavors and full of greens I couldn't even identify (always a good thing). I thanked the two people who had recommended it to me.
And the music was strong tonight. Dogs on Main Street (really one dog named Mac) began with the folk classic "This Land is Your Land," a song I can remember singing in elementary school
Saying, "I felt like I lost a friend the past few weeks. This is for Clarence," he launched into a rousing cover of "Badlands."
He was clearly getting hot up there (as dogs do on steamy July nights) and cracked wise, "Is the air conditioning set on Mexico?" before wiping his face of accumulated sweat. Being hot, though, did not affect how good he sounded.
During the break, I saw a friend who a) told me that he and another musician are recording a Christmas album and b) asked me about Jane Goodall and her chimp for the sake of updating his status.
After a while, you don't ask why.
It was my second night in a row for The Great Unknown, so I got to hear a lot more songs as well as a full drum kit on the songs I'd heard last night.
At one point, the girl standing next to me turned to her friend and stage-whispered, "These guys are amazingly good. They're from Philly!" I couldn't tell if she thought the two were mutually exclusive.
Favorite lyric:
My window is half full of clouds and it's open
And I'm inviting the weather in
I totally get that. My windows are always open and the weather, like the sounds of train whistles and birds singing, come in unbidden, but not wholly unwelcome.
And the continuing weirdness I find awaiting me when I get home? That would be any number of e-mails from friends full of crazy content.
"Thumper's mother said if you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all."
"I will stand semi-politely behind the youngsters that flock to you."
"You are looking at the latest job fatality. I am now a permanent woman of leisure."
"Just sitting here fantasizing about you in a pair of leather chaps. Wow, I must have one hell of an imagination to imagine that. Titillating nonetheless. "
[Sound of Head Exploding]
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
Multiple Dates and Hot Seats
If variety is the spice of life, then I had a well-seasoned evening.
I'd been on an all-day road trip date (details not forthcoming) and by the time I got home, it was time to get cleaned up and figure out what to sandwich around the Listening Room tonight. I must say, it turned out to be a pretty tasty concoction.
And speaking of, Tasting Tuesdays are always a good excuse to go to the Empress, so I decided to get sustenance there.
I must have been earlier than usual because it was still the "wine enthusiast" period, with all glasses $2 off. That was my motivation for ordering organic, the Cuvee Hortense, something I wouldn't have typically gotten, but thoroughly enjoyed.
Anyway, the tasting was forgotten as soon as I spotted the bacon-wrapped dates on the menu. They're a favorite of mine and I'd never had theirs. Instead of the usual five or six, this was nine of them, albeit a bit smaller than I'd seen before.
But they came atop a local honey and Gorgonzola sauce that was to die for. As much as I love the sweet/salty combination of bacon and dates, they were elevated to something truly exceptional with this rich sauce. I even sopped the decorative micro-greens in it.
Just as I was finishing the last date, my server came by and I asked for the grilled asparagus, not even sure where that desire came from. They were perfectly cooked and seasoned with a bit of heat. And they made me want protein.
So next I asked for the beef carpaccio with shaved Manchego, arugula, black sea salt, chili-infused oil and slices of grilled sourdough.
Of note was the thickness of the raw beef, which is usually paper thin. Not so this, but it was none the worse for it and the generous and extremely flavorful serving satisfied on every level.
Because I'd taken my time deciding and then eating sequentially, all of a sudden it was time to get to the Listening Room's new digs, the Firehouse Theater.
Not sure what to expect with a new venue, I wanted to get there early enough to score a good seat and have time to visit before the music began; I succeeded on both counts. I mean, some of these people I hadn't seen in 18 hours.
One of the three bands was not playing due to a car accident, so the first to be introduced was Dogs on Main Street. MC Chris said that he wasn't going to tell us anything about the performer because "he prefers to remain mysterious."
I think his name was Mac (it was spoken quickly) and he came out cracking wise about himself as he tuned his guitar. "I wish my songs were as funny as I am," he lamented. "Sorry, Mom."
He had a compelling voice, kind of growl-like, but not in an affected way. This guy was a self-deprecator par excellence, too, questioning why he was on stage and why people were clapping for him. Because we like talented singer/songwriters?
The Hot Seats played next and they'd brought their fans with them. The bluegrass-loving locals are a big favorite live what with upright bass, drums, guitar, fiddle, banjo (sometimes two) and occasional mandolin. They also get bonus points for frequent trading of instruments and multiple vocalists.
They introduced a cover by saying, "Here goes. This is as straight ahead bluegrass as we do. As we can. As we will," and played a Scruggs and Flatt tune. John Prine was not far behind. It was a lot of strings, a lot of voices and the audience loved it.
The move to the Firehouse meant that there's now a bar for the Listening Room (but, alas, no donuts; they were sacrificed for the sake of beer and wine), so some of us hung around afterwards to mingle and talk about the first show at the new space (Antonia: "Change is hard").
The consensus was that it was different but good. Not as intimate, but better and more comfortable viewing. And a lot less work for the crew that sets up and breaks down each show, which is a very good thing.
I topped off my evening sandwich by walking up a few doors to the Camel for jazz, for which there's no cover charge on Tuesdays. With a rotating cast of local jazz musicians, it's a tempting way to end any Tuesday night.
By the time I arrived, I only caught the last couple songs of the Larry Branch Agenda's set, both originals, which sounded good. I'd brought a friend with me, saw a few repeats from the Listening Room and met up with another jazz lover.
Next up was keyboard man Steve Kessler, playing with drums, bass and sax. He explained right off the bat that the entire evening would be free jazz, totally improvised. Now things were getting interesting.
You never knew which member of the quartet was going to lead things off and then it was just a matter of time before the other bobbing heads came in behind and around to fill things out.
Frequently when one player went off on an obscure tangent, the others laughed out loud or smiled broadly as if to say, "WTF?" A few times the music actually stopped and a quick low-volume discussion ensued as suggestions were made.
But mostly it was a set of musical interplay between a bunch of guys that captured the audience's ears and eventually rewarded them. At the close of the set, Kessler said, "Thanks for coming to listen to our rehearsal." Happy to oblige. I love seeing a room full of blissed-out jazz geeks.
Evening sandwich gone, I brushed aside the crumbs and licked my lips. That certainly worked out well.
I'd been on an all-day road trip date (details not forthcoming) and by the time I got home, it was time to get cleaned up and figure out what to sandwich around the Listening Room tonight. I must say, it turned out to be a pretty tasty concoction.
And speaking of, Tasting Tuesdays are always a good excuse to go to the Empress, so I decided to get sustenance there.
I must have been earlier than usual because it was still the "wine enthusiast" period, with all glasses $2 off. That was my motivation for ordering organic, the Cuvee Hortense, something I wouldn't have typically gotten, but thoroughly enjoyed.
Anyway, the tasting was forgotten as soon as I spotted the bacon-wrapped dates on the menu. They're a favorite of mine and I'd never had theirs. Instead of the usual five or six, this was nine of them, albeit a bit smaller than I'd seen before.
But they came atop a local honey and Gorgonzola sauce that was to die for. As much as I love the sweet/salty combination of bacon and dates, they were elevated to something truly exceptional with this rich sauce. I even sopped the decorative micro-greens in it.
Just as I was finishing the last date, my server came by and I asked for the grilled asparagus, not even sure where that desire came from. They were perfectly cooked and seasoned with a bit of heat. And they made me want protein.
So next I asked for the beef carpaccio with shaved Manchego, arugula, black sea salt, chili-infused oil and slices of grilled sourdough.
Of note was the thickness of the raw beef, which is usually paper thin. Not so this, but it was none the worse for it and the generous and extremely flavorful serving satisfied on every level.
Because I'd taken my time deciding and then eating sequentially, all of a sudden it was time to get to the Listening Room's new digs, the Firehouse Theater.
Not sure what to expect with a new venue, I wanted to get there early enough to score a good seat and have time to visit before the music began; I succeeded on both counts. I mean, some of these people I hadn't seen in 18 hours.
One of the three bands was not playing due to a car accident, so the first to be introduced was Dogs on Main Street. MC Chris said that he wasn't going to tell us anything about the performer because "he prefers to remain mysterious."
I think his name was Mac (it was spoken quickly) and he came out cracking wise about himself as he tuned his guitar. "I wish my songs were as funny as I am," he lamented. "Sorry, Mom."
He had a compelling voice, kind of growl-like, but not in an affected way. This guy was a self-deprecator par excellence, too, questioning why he was on stage and why people were clapping for him. Because we like talented singer/songwriters?
The Hot Seats played next and they'd brought their fans with them. The bluegrass-loving locals are a big favorite live what with upright bass, drums, guitar, fiddle, banjo (sometimes two) and occasional mandolin. They also get bonus points for frequent trading of instruments and multiple vocalists.
They introduced a cover by saying, "Here goes. This is as straight ahead bluegrass as we do. As we can. As we will," and played a Scruggs and Flatt tune. John Prine was not far behind. It was a lot of strings, a lot of voices and the audience loved it.
The move to the Firehouse meant that there's now a bar for the Listening Room (but, alas, no donuts; they were sacrificed for the sake of beer and wine), so some of us hung around afterwards to mingle and talk about the first show at the new space (Antonia: "Change is hard").
The consensus was that it was different but good. Not as intimate, but better and more comfortable viewing. And a lot less work for the crew that sets up and breaks down each show, which is a very good thing.
I topped off my evening sandwich by walking up a few doors to the Camel for jazz, for which there's no cover charge on Tuesdays. With a rotating cast of local jazz musicians, it's a tempting way to end any Tuesday night.
By the time I arrived, I only caught the last couple songs of the Larry Branch Agenda's set, both originals, which sounded good. I'd brought a friend with me, saw a few repeats from the Listening Room and met up with another jazz lover.
Next up was keyboard man Steve Kessler, playing with drums, bass and sax. He explained right off the bat that the entire evening would be free jazz, totally improvised. Now things were getting interesting.
You never knew which member of the quartet was going to lead things off and then it was just a matter of time before the other bobbing heads came in behind and around to fill things out.
Frequently when one player went off on an obscure tangent, the others laughed out loud or smiled broadly as if to say, "WTF?" A few times the music actually stopped and a quick low-volume discussion ensued as suggestions were made.
But mostly it was a set of musical interplay between a bunch of guys that captured the audience's ears and eventually rewarded them. At the close of the set, Kessler said, "Thanks for coming to listen to our rehearsal." Happy to oblige. I love seeing a room full of blissed-out jazz geeks.
Evening sandwich gone, I brushed aside the crumbs and licked my lips. That certainly worked out well.
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