Irish Boys Sing Purty*

I had forgotten that the tag line for Ashland Coffee and Tea was those magic words: "A Listening Room."

And when two Irish guys are going to sing in a silent room, I am there, much as I was when I saw them a year ago in January in the midst of my life falling apart.

That time I'd driven to Charlottesville to hear Guggenheim Grotto and tonight I only had to meander up Rte. 301 to the Center of the Universe to hear those two beautiful voices together again.

I arrived in time to eat before the show. My server told me right up front that he was new and I told him he could make his mistakes on me. I ordered the spinach salad (dried cranberries, feta, walnuts, maple-seasoned chicken with Chianti basil vinaigrette) and was happily tucking into it when he came by to refill my water glass.

He did so without spilling a drop and then set the water pitcher down with a flourish in front of me and placed my glass on the counter.

We bonded.

I already knew how amazing Guggenheim Grotto sounded live, so it was really just a matter of enjoying it for the beauty of the sounds. It was simply done like last time, with only guitar or ukulele and sometimes keyboard.

Kevin informed us that he has the mid-ranges and Mick does the upper and lower ends and together it is pure poetry. Kevin explained the hat on his head as having resulted from a lyric, "I tip my hat to the willow tree."

Grinning, he said, "I love that line. Well, I wrote that line, but I didn't have a hat when I wrote it. Now I have a hat." The heat eventually made him remove it for a while, but I noticed that it always reappeared for the suaver numbers.

Because I am constitutionally unable to resist coconut cake, I went for their dessert special of Coconut three-layer cake. The slice was enormous, easily two actual slices, and not one but two different couples commented on it and asked what it was.

It was a refrigerator style cake, so a dense crumb with exactly-sweet-enough icing and a generous amount of coconut (it could have stood even more, but that's probably just me).

About their song "Vertigo," Kevin said that they'd written their version five years earlier than U2 had written theirs.

"But I think this is what they were trying to say...in their ham-fisted way." Don't you love Irish band rivalry? Besides, it's like comparing passion fruit and star fruit.

Toward the end, we were praised by Kevin, who said, "You've been easily the most reverent audience we've had." Sound of clapping.

"That makes us sound like rock gods...which we are. I meant respectful, not reverent." Actually, given what those two voices can do, the audience probably was a bit reverent. And of course, we were all reveling in having a silent room in which to hear every nuance.

Well, silent except when the server broke a glass.

Bonding not feasible.

*My friend Isaac H. about why I would like another obscure Irish band.~2003

I'll Judge Yours If You Judge Mine

It's that time of year when music geeks are furiously trying to decide what to put on their Best of 2009 lists.

Shoot, I've been compiling a list since early summer, adding to it occasionally and crossing others off when something even more impressive comes along.

We music geeks take our lists seriously (and it didn't hurt that I had nothing better to do).

Yesterday I got a tentative list from my music geek friend Andrew and it's a whopping 25 CD scroll!

I understand why; it is difficult to winnow down a year's worth of good music to just ten or even a dozen CDs.

Also, he included local bands on his list and I purposely did not, preferring to make that a completely separate list for my own purposes.

I found it fascinating to read his list because as much as we discuss music, which is every single time we see each other and via e-mail, I was still surprised at some of what was on his list.

He was the one who gave me Great Northern's "Remind Me Where the Light Is" and never really mentioned it much again.

When we were driving home from the Raveonettes show in DC, I played that CD non-stop for the entire trip back and he didn't say a word.

Oh, wait, he might have been sleeping.

And speaking of the Raveonettes, "In and Out of Control" will most definitely be on my list but I didn't expect to see it on his.

This CD has far less of a recorded-in-a-cave sound, which pleases him because he's less of a cave-lover than I am, but I had no idea it was Top 25 list material for him.

Maybe I'm making a cave convert out of him (next up: The Twilight Sad?).

And Guggenheim Grotto?

I got this CD a solid year ago and rushed off to Charlottesville to see them by myself last winter without any idea that he was a fan.

It was an intimate and amazing show, but why the hell did I go alone, I'm wondering?

Next time I'll ask.

I started pushing Passion Pit's "Manners" on all my friends hard late last spring, even more so once their show at the National was announced for June.

Their very 70s-based dance music for non-dance music lovers is one of my favorites and still in regular rotation, but I hadn't realized how highly it rated with Andrew.

And Neko Case, of course.

I saw her twice this year (only once with Andrew), and the cover art of "Middle Cyclone" is probably the best CD cover of the past five years, IMHO.

Every time I listen to her sing, I want to cry or have an in-depth conversation with her about men.

That voice, that attitude!

I see that after much internal deliberation, Andrew included The Decemberist's "Hazards of Love" and I know this caused him much soul-searching because he hated putting something on his list that was on every other critic's best of list.

Sometimes, my friend, there's a reason why everyone acknowledges a CD.

No surprise that Plushguns' "Pins and Panzers" was one of Andrew's favorites.

When we discovered them in 2008, we were both terribly impressed with what a guy in his Brooklyn bedroom could make for sound.

But that show at Alley Katz, complete with glow sticks, sealed the deal.

We're undoubtedly among the few putting this CD on our end-of-year lists, but only because not enough people have experienced it.

Their loss.

I could go through the rest of my friend's list, but perhaps I'd better finish up my own instead.

He probably wants to judge mine as much as he wanted me to peruse his.

And then, like two lawyers battling a case, we'll have the epic Best of 2009 List discussion.

It could go on for days.