A new spot opens in the neighborhood, of course I'm going to go.
I've watched the renovation as I pass The Rogue Gentleman on my daily walk for months now, but nothing I had seen there was resembling the "professor's study-meets-cocktail bar" look the owners were touting nine months ago.
So when a bartender friend recently moved to the Ward and I made plans to hang out tonight, my suggestion was naturally to check out the new kid on the block.
Twenty minutes before meeting him, I got an e-mail from a good friend who prides himself on always being right.
Should have e-mailed you earlier. Thought about it. Didn't. We are at Rogue Gentleman. Last minute decision. Sure you have some other plans.
It's the exception that proves the rule this time, friend.
I walked in to find all three of them already at the bar surrounded by a lively crowd.
Mr. Always Right kissed me on the cheek, part of his 2014 resolution to try to be more sensitive and less cynical.
But checking out the interior, we had to wonder. Nowhere in sight was anything professorial-looking and it was much brighter and more open than any of us had expected for a pre-prohibition era cocktail bar.
Ah, well, the best laid plans of mice and men and all that rot.
Since I'm not a cocktail drinker, I allowed myself to be wooed by Fernet Branca on tap despite never having tasted the bitter, aromatic spirit.
Perhaps the bartender sensed that I was a Fernet virgin because after ordering, he strongly suggested a ginger chaser.
It must not have been obvious to him that my only spirits are absinthe and tequila, both sans chasers and accoutrements.
Never mind, I sipped the digestif and nibbled on Pecorino gougeres while my friends tried a variety of cocktails. Then I had a second Fernet to make sure my first impression was correct.
A charcuterie board featured Olli salame and bresola, chicken liver mousse, pistachio-studded pate, Pecorino and a triple creme along with mustards and pickled veggies and must have been a popular item on the menu because we saw it going out to a lot of tables.
The vintage glassware was a highlight, unique and attractive, right down to the punch cups used for the spicy island rum punch on tap.
There were so many people there and so much gabbing going on that we were probably two plus hours into our evening before we ever heard the first note of music.
Hopefully, that will change, too.
I give the bartenders credit, though, they kept up a smiling facade even when it was close to a madhouse in there, no easy job.
Finally managing to convince my friends to join me for music at Balliceaux, we left in separate cars, me with the Jackson Ward contingent, for another kind of crowd.
The kind where a guy is wearing a t-shirt saying, "Risk and you shall receive" and a girl is wearing a sleeveless, backless top despite tit being 19 degrees outside.
You know, the pretty people.
My first order of business after arrival was ordering skewered roasted pork belly over cranberries and pears, a welcome, fatty and piquant snack to fortify myself.
In the back room, R & B legend the Hi-Steps were getting set up so we found a spot near the bar.
A steady stream of people kept arriving, which I hope means that word is out that these guys put on a good show.
After the first couple of soulful songs, bandleader Jason leaned into the microphone, exhorting the crowd to come closer, to come into the light nearest the stage.
"My friend Karen always asks me if I told the crowd we're a dancing band," he announced to the room. "So you should move up and start dancing."
It took about ten seconds of "Signed, Sealed and Delivered" for my girlfriend to start dancing in front of me. And not because of what he said I'd said, either.
It took even less for my bartender friend to grab her hand and lead her to the dance floor, saying over his shoulder, "Someone's got to."
Meanwhile, I kept her boyfriend company as he stood next to me alternately grooving and yawning. To be fair, he had been up about four hours earlier than I had this morning.
I think it was some time after "Soul Man" or maybe "Move On Up" that the dancing friends rejoined us, the bartender saying, "I have four dance moves and she exhausted them all in the first minute."
I'm sure he was exaggerating.
The crowd kept growing and since they all had to pass me to get to the bar, I had a chance to say hi to the violinist, the handsome server, the percussionist, the biker as the room continued to heat up.
And while I stayed over by the bar with the newly-sensitive one, there was definitely some in-place dancing going on the whole time.
Someone's got to. Because they definitely are a dancing band.
Showing posts with label hi-steps. Show all posts
Showing posts with label hi-steps. Show all posts
Saturday, January 25, 2014
Thursday, March 28, 2013
Full Moon Soul Cage
It's a hell of a swing from prepared piano to R & B.
The final installment of UR's John Cage Centennial celebration was tonight.
Pianist Paul Hanson was playing Cage's "Sonatas and Interludes for Prepared Piano," so I gathered some adventurous music lovers to hear this seminal Cage work.
I'd had a taste of prepared piano at least week's Cage concert but tonight it was only about the prepared.
And by prepared piano, we're talking about Cage's instructions to insert all kinds of things into and on the piano's strings.
Stuff like screws of different sizes, some with bolts, wing nuts, strips of rubber, pieces of plastic.
Even a whole pink eraser.
You can imagine what interesting things that does to the sound when the keys are played.
If you can't, I'll tell you.
I heard what sounded like a toy piano, a muted gong, xylophone, harp, vibes and occasionally, an actual piano sound.
When a normal note cropped up during the performance, it was a surprise and a bit jarring, since my ear very quickly attuned to the prepared sound.
Hanson took a few minutes before he began playing to talk about the piece, saying it certainly qualified as "art music" and saying that it takes three hours to "prepare" the piano according to Cage's notes and specifications.
Then he sat down on his bench and since he was all clad in black and the piano was also black, they were a contrast to the orange-lit backdrop behind him.
For the next hour, he played Cage's masterpiece, alternately challenging and lulling the audience.
Most gorgeous of all were Sonatas XIV and XV, known as "Gemini," and they were also the most structured.
It hinted at the more conventional direction Cage could have gone had he chosen to do so.
Afterwards, Hanson invited the crowd up on stage to look at the prepared piano and, like most of the rest of the audience, I couldn't resist.
Seeing the assortment of random objects placed just so on the piano's strings explained a lot about the sounds we'd just heard.
A UR music student, leaning in as I did, regaled me with a tidbit about pianist Ben Folds.
"You know, he always put an empty Altoids box on the high strings for his last couple of songs," she informed me, clearly taking her Ben Folds very seriously.
No, no I hadn't known he did that, but I suppose it speaks to Cage's legacy in some small way.
Leaving Booker Hall, I decided to surprise my companions with another musical stop.
Tonight was Mekong's 18th anniversary celebration and the Hi-Steps, a band neither of them had seen, was playing.
I suggested a beer and some music and then drove them there without waiting to hear them agree to it.
Not surprisingly, the place was mobbed when we arrived and everywhere I looked were people with glasses of beer in their hands.
I don't drink the stuff myself, as I told drummer Pinson Chanselle when he said hi, so it was the promise of vintage soul played live that put me in the middle of a beer fest.
Mekong is one of those Asian places with room after room and I found the Hi-Steps setting up in a back one.
Later, bandleader Jason Scott cracked that it looked like a smoking lounge at an airport and he wasn't far off.
From the fake plastic ficus tree to the peeling paint on a column to the wall of mirrors (so '80s), it was not the most attractive room.
Like anyone cared.
The octet of trombone, sax, trumpet, drums, guitar, bass, keyboard and singer proceeded to fill the room with a funky backbeat that, in a better-suited room, would have had the crowd up and dancing within minutes.
Clearly everyone was well-lubricated enough to shake their groove thing if there was room enough.
Sadly, there wasn't, since I have heard Jason exhort audiences on more than one occasion to dance, reminding them that they are not meant to be watched, but danced to.
The horn section did it up right, swinging their instruments side to side as they played, like generations of soul bands before them did.
The set list ran the gamut from "Lonely Hearts" to the ubiquitous "Ain't Too Proud to Beg" to "Higher and Higher."
The slow burn of Lee Dorsey's "Get Out of My Life, Woman" was especially well-executed.
The talented left-handed guitarist was a treat to watch, both for the soulful voice coming out a skinny white boy body, but also for his excellent guitar faces.
His female counterpart, singer Brittany, brought her mother up to sing "Chain of Fools" and there's nothing like hearing family members harmonize.
After their spirited number, the dutiful daughter kissed her mama goodbye and went back to work with the band.
And I don't want to brag, but the two music lovers I'd brought along were totally digging the surprise musical treat, so different than Cage.
As the set progressed, even more people kept arriving, beer glasses in hand, adding to the party-like vibe of the room.
Look, I'm happy for any restaurant who makes it 18 years in this town.
That Mekong has established itself as the premiere RVA beer venue is also a good thing; I've brought an out of town guests there myself to wow them with the myriad choices.
But for this non-beer drinker, it was all about the Hi-Steps tonight.
Throw in a little John Cage and it might just have been the best possible way celebrate full moon fever.
The final installment of UR's John Cage Centennial celebration was tonight.
Pianist Paul Hanson was playing Cage's "Sonatas and Interludes for Prepared Piano," so I gathered some adventurous music lovers to hear this seminal Cage work.
I'd had a taste of prepared piano at least week's Cage concert but tonight it was only about the prepared.
And by prepared piano, we're talking about Cage's instructions to insert all kinds of things into and on the piano's strings.
Stuff like screws of different sizes, some with bolts, wing nuts, strips of rubber, pieces of plastic.
Even a whole pink eraser.
You can imagine what interesting things that does to the sound when the keys are played.
If you can't, I'll tell you.
I heard what sounded like a toy piano, a muted gong, xylophone, harp, vibes and occasionally, an actual piano sound.
When a normal note cropped up during the performance, it was a surprise and a bit jarring, since my ear very quickly attuned to the prepared sound.
Hanson took a few minutes before he began playing to talk about the piece, saying it certainly qualified as "art music" and saying that it takes three hours to "prepare" the piano according to Cage's notes and specifications.
Then he sat down on his bench and since he was all clad in black and the piano was also black, they were a contrast to the orange-lit backdrop behind him.
For the next hour, he played Cage's masterpiece, alternately challenging and lulling the audience.
Most gorgeous of all were Sonatas XIV and XV, known as "Gemini," and they were also the most structured.
It hinted at the more conventional direction Cage could have gone had he chosen to do so.
Afterwards, Hanson invited the crowd up on stage to look at the prepared piano and, like most of the rest of the audience, I couldn't resist.
Seeing the assortment of random objects placed just so on the piano's strings explained a lot about the sounds we'd just heard.
A UR music student, leaning in as I did, regaled me with a tidbit about pianist Ben Folds.
"You know, he always put an empty Altoids box on the high strings for his last couple of songs," she informed me, clearly taking her Ben Folds very seriously.
No, no I hadn't known he did that, but I suppose it speaks to Cage's legacy in some small way.
Leaving Booker Hall, I decided to surprise my companions with another musical stop.
Tonight was Mekong's 18th anniversary celebration and the Hi-Steps, a band neither of them had seen, was playing.
I suggested a beer and some music and then drove them there without waiting to hear them agree to it.
Not surprisingly, the place was mobbed when we arrived and everywhere I looked were people with glasses of beer in their hands.
I don't drink the stuff myself, as I told drummer Pinson Chanselle when he said hi, so it was the promise of vintage soul played live that put me in the middle of a beer fest.
Mekong is one of those Asian places with room after room and I found the Hi-Steps setting up in a back one.
Later, bandleader Jason Scott cracked that it looked like a smoking lounge at an airport and he wasn't far off.
From the fake plastic ficus tree to the peeling paint on a column to the wall of mirrors (so '80s), it was not the most attractive room.
Like anyone cared.
The octet of trombone, sax, trumpet, drums, guitar, bass, keyboard and singer proceeded to fill the room with a funky backbeat that, in a better-suited room, would have had the crowd up and dancing within minutes.
Clearly everyone was well-lubricated enough to shake their groove thing if there was room enough.
Sadly, there wasn't, since I have heard Jason exhort audiences on more than one occasion to dance, reminding them that they are not meant to be watched, but danced to.
The horn section did it up right, swinging their instruments side to side as they played, like generations of soul bands before them did.
The set list ran the gamut from "Lonely Hearts" to the ubiquitous "Ain't Too Proud to Beg" to "Higher and Higher."
The slow burn of Lee Dorsey's "Get Out of My Life, Woman" was especially well-executed.
The talented left-handed guitarist was a treat to watch, both for the soulful voice coming out a skinny white boy body, but also for his excellent guitar faces.
His female counterpart, singer Brittany, brought her mother up to sing "Chain of Fools" and there's nothing like hearing family members harmonize.
After their spirited number, the dutiful daughter kissed her mama goodbye and went back to work with the band.
And I don't want to brag, but the two music lovers I'd brought along were totally digging the surprise musical treat, so different than Cage.
As the set progressed, even more people kept arriving, beer glasses in hand, adding to the party-like vibe of the room.
Look, I'm happy for any restaurant who makes it 18 years in this town.
That Mekong has established itself as the premiere RVA beer venue is also a good thing; I've brought an out of town guests there myself to wow them with the myriad choices.
But for this non-beer drinker, it was all about the Hi-Steps tonight.
Throw in a little John Cage and it might just have been the best possible way celebrate full moon fever.
Saturday, November 24, 2012
Once is Never Enough
If you're going to repeat yourself, at least repeat good things.
To start it was random compliments and heartfelt gratitude and isn't that why any girl goes to her local art museum?
Walking in the VMFA's Boulevard (and my favorite) entrance, the guard greets us.
I do the same, adding in questions about the museum's attendance today.
"We had a lot of people here earlier today, but they've gone home. We sent them out into the night," he explained.
I made a crack about visiting relatives and the desire to escape and he agreed and as I make for the hallway to leave, he casually observes apropos of nothing, "Those are nifty tights, by the way."
It may very well be my first time I was complimented as "nifty."
After scoring our Chihuly tickets, we head downstairs for some glass.
I've already seen the show, here, but I was a willing second-timer here with a Chihuly virgin.
We began with those glorious Venetian balls in a rowboat before moving on to the "Persian Ceiling."
Waling in to the gallery, my jaw dropped as we watched three women walk into the gallery, never so much as look up, and pass right through as if a suspended ceiling holding 1,000 (yes, one thousand!) glass objects wasn't directly over their heads.
Maybe they missed the signage and maybe not.
Still, whoa.
It was then that I remembered the artist's recommendation for the best way to see the "Persian Ceiling."
You got it; I stretched out on the floor so as to have an optimum vantage point for the assemblage of Chihuly glass overhead.
Then a funny thing happened.
My date laid down.
Then another couple. And a young guy. And...
Before all was said and done, seven other people followed my lead and got horizontal with the floor, just like I had.
From somewhere near the front of the gallery, a voice called out, "Thank you!"
"You're welcome," I answered, not the least bit afraid I wasn't the intended complimentee.
Moments later, a VMFA guard walked into the room and announced, "You have to get up. I can't let you lay on the floor."
Oh, can't you? Are we really a threat stretched out on the floor?
To our rescue came a man who'd declined to get down for fear he couldn't get up.
"Just let me take a picture," he said commandingly and the very young guard ceded power to him.
None of us hurried to get up (what was the guard going to do, after all?) but eventually we unwound our supine bodies and rejoined the vertical.
Moving through the exhibit, an occasional stranger would smile or nod at me and I had to presume it was someone who had joined me on the floor.
After our encounter of the Chihuly kind, we did the logical thing and walked upstairs to Amuse for a glass.
We'd timed it perfectly.
There was plenty of room at the bar and the dining room was just beginning to fill up.
The bartender confirmed what I already suspected; Amuse had been a madhouse today.
"It was crazy, our busiest day other than Mother's Day," she said wearily, but with a smile on her face.
Whoa. Glad we'd missed the masses.
With a bottle of Portuguese Tinto Rioja, we sampled the amuse bouche, a white bean puree with micro-greens on a flat bread.
It was one perfect bite, just as it should be.
From there we went to Rappahannock curry-fried oysters with a cucumber and mint raita and pickled veggies.
After copious amounts of raw Rappahannock River oysters to start my Thanksgiving day meal yesterday, I was eager for something different.
The trifecta of curry, cucumber and mint hit a home run in my mouth.
Next up, we did the crispy pork belly with Romesco sauce and fried spinach and were just as delighted.
The fatty belly, sweet Romesco and delightfully crispy spinach made for a an impressive flavor and texture combination.
By this time, the dining room was completely full and we had just enough wine left for dessert.
I used my influence to choose the chocolate pot de creme with amaretto macaroons, for which I was immediately grateful.
The dense pudding begged to be spread on the rich cookies tasting of almonds and coconut.
And, just so you know, chocolate and coconut top my dessert hit parade.
Together, they were sublime. Samoas, anyone?
Sitting at the bar glowing with pleasure after so many stellar tastes, I felt a hand on my back.
"I'm grateful," a woman said, looking directly in my eyes. "That was an amazing experience. I'll always remember that. Thank you."
I seemed to remember her feet near mine when I'd taken to the floor.
Still, I felt pretty full of myself for having created a "happening," not that I had intended for anyone other than me to do it.
And yet they had.
Sometimes it's just about doing what you want and anyone else following is pure gravy.
But then museums close and you have to find new places to do your thing.
Hello, Hi-Steps.
For my second evening with this group of talented local jazz musicians, I made sure to arrive in time to get a good vantage point.
I was happy to find a diverse crowd spanning 20-somethings to probably 50-somethings, all clearly fans of soul music.
Hats were everywhere - a tweed one on bassist Cameron, another on trumpeter Bob and a newsboy cap on trombonist Toby.
Leader Jason in a leather blazer.
Very dapper, indeed.
Lead singer Brittany took it back to the appropriate era with a taupe maxi sweater dress with a yellow ribbon tied at the waist.
Groovy with a capital "G."
There was a new guitarist/male vocalist tonight, doing a fine job trading vocals with Brittany.
It only took the first few notes to remind me how much I enjoy how hard drummer Pinson Chanselle hits the drums.
After the first two songs, bandleader Jason told the crowd, "This is not a spectator sport. I mean, you can watch us if you want, but we'd rather watch you dance."
He was right, of course.
Few spectator sports are as enjoyable as Friday night dancing.
"Ain't Too Proud to Beg" got the room dancing until the break.
A girl I know spotted me and came over to say hello, mentioning that it was her first time at Balliceaux.
Oh honey.
Soon after, a guy walked up to me and started a surprising conversation about flooring.
Seems Balliceaux has glow-in-the-dark floors, the same ones he'd put in his basement around his hot tub.
Then there were the black lights he'd installed down there, he said.
"Pretty '70s, huh?" he snorted, laughing loudly.
Who'd have thought that was a goal?
During "Tired of Being Alone," singer Brittany wasn't needed so she danced along with the the crowd (or her mother, depending on who you listened to).
Nearby, two guys grooved. "I could listen to this song all day," he told his buddy enthusiastically. "On repeat."
Is there any other way?
While the set list had a lot of similarities to the first show I'd seen, all I could focus on was how tight these guys sounded considering they've only played out twice.
Pros. It's that simple.
After "Try a Little Tenderness," guitarist Elliott cracked wise, noting, "And that turkey I had last night, that was tenderness."
Standing nearby me was DJ Mike Murphy, who was playing soul music before, during and after the Hi-Steps.
With the band doing a handful of classics ("Tell Me Something Good," "It's Your Thing," "Chain of Fools") and the crowd singing along, it occurred to me that those were exactly the songs Mike wouldn't play.
Songs like the closer, "Signed, Sealed and Delivered."
Which means both he and the Hi-Steps have the right idea.
If we're going to dance to soul music, let it be to deep cuts on vinyl or else played live.
And, remember, kids, this is not a spectator sport.
But it sure is fun. So fun I put it on repeat.
To start it was random compliments and heartfelt gratitude and isn't that why any girl goes to her local art museum?
Walking in the VMFA's Boulevard (and my favorite) entrance, the guard greets us.
I do the same, adding in questions about the museum's attendance today.
"We had a lot of people here earlier today, but they've gone home. We sent them out into the night," he explained.
I made a crack about visiting relatives and the desire to escape and he agreed and as I make for the hallway to leave, he casually observes apropos of nothing, "Those are nifty tights, by the way."
It may very well be my first time I was complimented as "nifty."
After scoring our Chihuly tickets, we head downstairs for some glass.
I've already seen the show, here, but I was a willing second-timer here with a Chihuly virgin.
We began with those glorious Venetian balls in a rowboat before moving on to the "Persian Ceiling."
Waling in to the gallery, my jaw dropped as we watched three women walk into the gallery, never so much as look up, and pass right through as if a suspended ceiling holding 1,000 (yes, one thousand!) glass objects wasn't directly over their heads.
Maybe they missed the signage and maybe not.
Still, whoa.
It was then that I remembered the artist's recommendation for the best way to see the "Persian Ceiling."
You got it; I stretched out on the floor so as to have an optimum vantage point for the assemblage of Chihuly glass overhead.
Then a funny thing happened.
My date laid down.
Then another couple. And a young guy. And...
Before all was said and done, seven other people followed my lead and got horizontal with the floor, just like I had.
From somewhere near the front of the gallery, a voice called out, "Thank you!"
"You're welcome," I answered, not the least bit afraid I wasn't the intended complimentee.
Moments later, a VMFA guard walked into the room and announced, "You have to get up. I can't let you lay on the floor."
Oh, can't you? Are we really a threat stretched out on the floor?
To our rescue came a man who'd declined to get down for fear he couldn't get up.
"Just let me take a picture," he said commandingly and the very young guard ceded power to him.
None of us hurried to get up (what was the guard going to do, after all?) but eventually we unwound our supine bodies and rejoined the vertical.
Moving through the exhibit, an occasional stranger would smile or nod at me and I had to presume it was someone who had joined me on the floor.
After our encounter of the Chihuly kind, we did the logical thing and walked upstairs to Amuse for a glass.
We'd timed it perfectly.
There was plenty of room at the bar and the dining room was just beginning to fill up.
The bartender confirmed what I already suspected; Amuse had been a madhouse today.
"It was crazy, our busiest day other than Mother's Day," she said wearily, but with a smile on her face.
Whoa. Glad we'd missed the masses.
With a bottle of Portuguese Tinto Rioja, we sampled the amuse bouche, a white bean puree with micro-greens on a flat bread.
It was one perfect bite, just as it should be.
From there we went to Rappahannock curry-fried oysters with a cucumber and mint raita and pickled veggies.
After copious amounts of raw Rappahannock River oysters to start my Thanksgiving day meal yesterday, I was eager for something different.
The trifecta of curry, cucumber and mint hit a home run in my mouth.
Next up, we did the crispy pork belly with Romesco sauce and fried spinach and were just as delighted.
The fatty belly, sweet Romesco and delightfully crispy spinach made for a an impressive flavor and texture combination.
By this time, the dining room was completely full and we had just enough wine left for dessert.
I used my influence to choose the chocolate pot de creme with amaretto macaroons, for which I was immediately grateful.
The dense pudding begged to be spread on the rich cookies tasting of almonds and coconut.
And, just so you know, chocolate and coconut top my dessert hit parade.
Together, they were sublime. Samoas, anyone?
Sitting at the bar glowing with pleasure after so many stellar tastes, I felt a hand on my back.
"I'm grateful," a woman said, looking directly in my eyes. "That was an amazing experience. I'll always remember that. Thank you."
I seemed to remember her feet near mine when I'd taken to the floor.
Still, I felt pretty full of myself for having created a "happening," not that I had intended for anyone other than me to do it.
And yet they had.
Sometimes it's just about doing what you want and anyone else following is pure gravy.
But then museums close and you have to find new places to do your thing.
Hello, Hi-Steps.
For my second evening with this group of talented local jazz musicians, I made sure to arrive in time to get a good vantage point.
I was happy to find a diverse crowd spanning 20-somethings to probably 50-somethings, all clearly fans of soul music.
Hats were everywhere - a tweed one on bassist Cameron, another on trumpeter Bob and a newsboy cap on trombonist Toby.
Leader Jason in a leather blazer.
Very dapper, indeed.
Lead singer Brittany took it back to the appropriate era with a taupe maxi sweater dress with a yellow ribbon tied at the waist.
Groovy with a capital "G."
There was a new guitarist/male vocalist tonight, doing a fine job trading vocals with Brittany.
It only took the first few notes to remind me how much I enjoy how hard drummer Pinson Chanselle hits the drums.
After the first two songs, bandleader Jason told the crowd, "This is not a spectator sport. I mean, you can watch us if you want, but we'd rather watch you dance."
He was right, of course.
Few spectator sports are as enjoyable as Friday night dancing.
"Ain't Too Proud to Beg" got the room dancing until the break.
A girl I know spotted me and came over to say hello, mentioning that it was her first time at Balliceaux.
Oh honey.
Soon after, a guy walked up to me and started a surprising conversation about flooring.
Seems Balliceaux has glow-in-the-dark floors, the same ones he'd put in his basement around his hot tub.
Then there were the black lights he'd installed down there, he said.
"Pretty '70s, huh?" he snorted, laughing loudly.
Who'd have thought that was a goal?
During "Tired of Being Alone," singer Brittany wasn't needed so she danced along with the the crowd (or her mother, depending on who you listened to).
Nearby, two guys grooved. "I could listen to this song all day," he told his buddy enthusiastically. "On repeat."
Is there any other way?
While the set list had a lot of similarities to the first show I'd seen, all I could focus on was how tight these guys sounded considering they've only played out twice.
Pros. It's that simple.
After "Try a Little Tenderness," guitarist Elliott cracked wise, noting, "And that turkey I had last night, that was tenderness."
Standing nearby me was DJ Mike Murphy, who was playing soul music before, during and after the Hi-Steps.
With the band doing a handful of classics ("Tell Me Something Good," "It's Your Thing," "Chain of Fools") and the crowd singing along, it occurred to me that those were exactly the songs Mike wouldn't play.
Songs like the closer, "Signed, Sealed and Delivered."
Which means both he and the Hi-Steps have the right idea.
If we're going to dance to soul music, let it be to deep cuts on vinyl or else played live.
And, remember, kids, this is not a spectator sport.
But it sure is fun. So fun I put it on repeat.
Saturday, September 15, 2012
Tell Me Something Good
It was long, but it was worth every minute of it.
First there was Eat ("We'll cook, you eat!"), the new concept that's taken over at Pescado's China Street.
We took seats at the bar during happy hour, scored some Chilean chardonnay from the witty and small-scale bartender and took our time with the witty and large-format menu.
There were so many intriguing sounding choices that it took a while, but we eventually settled on two.
PB & J was a take on panzanella with mixed greens, sliced red and green grapes, toasted brioche and Thai peanut vinaigrette.
It definitely delivered the requisite sweet and salty promised.
The Dog House was a Sausagecraft sausage on a Flour Garden bun, topped with caramelized onions, broccoli rabe, pickled mustard seed and roasted tomato aioli.
The broccoli rabe was a tad toothsome for eating on the sandwich and we were inclined to think its savory bitterness overpowered the sausage, so we removed it and ate it like a side (which it also is on the menu).
The remaining combination was outstanding, the sweet onions and the pungent mustard seeds ideal complements to the dog.
We barely finished that before beating feet to Strange Matter for Hoax Hunters' CD release show and lots of familiar faces.
The duo of Tyrannosaurus Awesome opened with their usual energetic guitar/drumming and non-stop aural assault.
In my next life, I'll be a drummer so I can have arms that well sculpted.
Hoax Hunters took the stage and thrashed that thrash they do so well.
Despite a recent cold, P.J.'s vocals sounded spot-on and, as always, his on-stage persona is fierce and completely unlike his usual mild-mannered and droll photographer self.
By the end of their set, he'd knocked over his mic stand and was on the floor, but still playing.
That's thrash at its best.
I lost my date at that point but made my way to Balliceaux for the Hi-Steps.
Like everyone else, I had no idea who the Hi-Steps were, but I knew to expect old-school soul.
On arrival, I found a mob of P.Y.T.s mingling and trying to be seen at the front bar.
Eschewing that scene, I paid my cover and went to the back room where I found a slightly older and definitely more interesting crowd.
Turns out that the Hi-Steps is a group of RVA's best known jazz players led by saxophonist Jason Scott.
People like Cam Ralston on bass and Pinson Chanselle on drums.
At the bar to get a Cazadores, I ran into one of the band, trumpet player Bob Miller (Fight the Big Bull, Bio Ritmo) who looked even more dapper than usual in a pale blue polyester suit.
I learned later from his charming wife that she'd bought it for him as an Easter gift.
He had to have been the hit of the Easter parade in it.
But all of the band were sharp-dressed men: Cameron in his harlequin vest, Jason in his monochromatic dark blue, singer Brittany in a long skirt.
From Bob I learned that the group was planning to play a variety of soul music from obscure to hits and a lot in between.
Also that they had lost their singer a week ago and had to scramble.
The band hadn't been sure how many people might show up tonight.
"Well, you heard about it," Bob pointed out.
As I told him, when certain musicians send me an invitation, I pay attention.
Rising local superstar Matt White showed up to see his friends play, causing quite a stir.
When he said hello, I couldn't resist teasing him about his recent "Rolling Stone artists to watch" mention and inquire about Hopscotch, the festival he'd played last week.
I'd seen Prabir, he of the Goldrush, in the front room and he soon joined me in the back along with a girl (who still said things like "Life is so awesome!") and a record label guy from Jersey.
We were a motley crew.
During the band's first set, we heard classic soul music, and although none of the songs were familiar to me except one ("Ain't Too Proud to Beg"), they all had that smooth soul groove and people began to dance.
Jason had told the crowd that that was the idea.
With trumpet, trombone, sax, electric bass, keyboards, drums, guitar and a male and female singer, they had every component required for delivering R & B.
A DJ friend was particularly taken with their rendition of "Get Out of My Life, Woman" with its slower intensity.
Just before their last song, Prabir observed that they needed to tear it up before the break to ensure everyone stuck around for the second set.
"Second sets are the best," he said knowingly. "But it's time to give 'em the cheese plate."
The band played a high energy number that seemed likely to leave people wanting for more.
During the break, I spoke to Jason, the group's mastermind, who admitted that he'd gotten the idea when he saw how popular the soul DJ nights were.
Why not play the classic soul repertory live, he thought. "But I didn't know the music at all, so I went to Spotify and started looking for artists and songs, some I knew and some I didn't and picked from that."
And for their second set, they destroyed it.
Songs like "It's Your Thing," which had people dancing within the first few notes.
"Your Love Keeps Lifting Me Higher" and "Tired of Being Alone" were well received, but when that big old bass line began for "Tell Me something Good," Prabir and I about lost it.
There was the quintessential song of the evening for me.
The brass, having no part in it, began to dance in place, getting as funky as the dancers in front of them and bass player Cameron's head got a workout grooving along.
When I heard the band begin "Try a Little Tenderness," with its quiet intro, I turned to Prabir and said of the suddenly-chatting crowd, "They have no idea what's about to happen."
Grinning maniacally, he nodded. "No, they don't. It's gonna be awesome."
When the song finally broke open, the room exploded as people began dancing, flailing and shouting with the energy of the song.
After they did "Chain of Fools," I asked a bartender friend what he thought of the band.
"I couldn't see them at first and when I heard that singer, I thought she was an old black woman," he said. "When I finally saw she was a young white girl, I couldn't believe it! They're great."
Likewise, Charles Arthur on guitar and vocals had done a stellar job on the songs where he sang lead.
"This is our first show ever," Jason informed the crowd before their last song.
Judging by the amazing musicianship (they'd only had one rehearsal), ideal variety of known and unknown material and enthusiasm emanating from them, I'd say the Hi-Steps are going to be the big must-see act this fall.
Think about it.
Live soul music performed by some of the top musicians in town.
Mad energy for nearly three straight hours.
I'd suggest you wear your dancing shoes.
First there was Eat ("We'll cook, you eat!"), the new concept that's taken over at Pescado's China Street.
We took seats at the bar during happy hour, scored some Chilean chardonnay from the witty and small-scale bartender and took our time with the witty and large-format menu.
There were so many intriguing sounding choices that it took a while, but we eventually settled on two.
PB & J was a take on panzanella with mixed greens, sliced red and green grapes, toasted brioche and Thai peanut vinaigrette.
It definitely delivered the requisite sweet and salty promised.
The Dog House was a Sausagecraft sausage on a Flour Garden bun, topped with caramelized onions, broccoli rabe, pickled mustard seed and roasted tomato aioli.
The broccoli rabe was a tad toothsome for eating on the sandwich and we were inclined to think its savory bitterness overpowered the sausage, so we removed it and ate it like a side (which it also is on the menu).
The remaining combination was outstanding, the sweet onions and the pungent mustard seeds ideal complements to the dog.
We barely finished that before beating feet to Strange Matter for Hoax Hunters' CD release show and lots of familiar faces.
The duo of Tyrannosaurus Awesome opened with their usual energetic guitar/drumming and non-stop aural assault.
In my next life, I'll be a drummer so I can have arms that well sculpted.
Hoax Hunters took the stage and thrashed that thrash they do so well.
Despite a recent cold, P.J.'s vocals sounded spot-on and, as always, his on-stage persona is fierce and completely unlike his usual mild-mannered and droll photographer self.
By the end of their set, he'd knocked over his mic stand and was on the floor, but still playing.
That's thrash at its best.
I lost my date at that point but made my way to Balliceaux for the Hi-Steps.
Like everyone else, I had no idea who the Hi-Steps were, but I knew to expect old-school soul.
On arrival, I found a mob of P.Y.T.s mingling and trying to be seen at the front bar.
Eschewing that scene, I paid my cover and went to the back room where I found a slightly older and definitely more interesting crowd.
Turns out that the Hi-Steps is a group of RVA's best known jazz players led by saxophonist Jason Scott.
People like Cam Ralston on bass and Pinson Chanselle on drums.
At the bar to get a Cazadores, I ran into one of the band, trumpet player Bob Miller (Fight the Big Bull, Bio Ritmo) who looked even more dapper than usual in a pale blue polyester suit.
I learned later from his charming wife that she'd bought it for him as an Easter gift.
He had to have been the hit of the Easter parade in it.
But all of the band were sharp-dressed men: Cameron in his harlequin vest, Jason in his monochromatic dark blue, singer Brittany in a long skirt.
From Bob I learned that the group was planning to play a variety of soul music from obscure to hits and a lot in between.
Also that they had lost their singer a week ago and had to scramble.
The band hadn't been sure how many people might show up tonight.
"Well, you heard about it," Bob pointed out.
As I told him, when certain musicians send me an invitation, I pay attention.
Rising local superstar Matt White showed up to see his friends play, causing quite a stir.
When he said hello, I couldn't resist teasing him about his recent "Rolling Stone artists to watch" mention and inquire about Hopscotch, the festival he'd played last week.
I'd seen Prabir, he of the Goldrush, in the front room and he soon joined me in the back along with a girl (who still said things like "Life is so awesome!") and a record label guy from Jersey.
We were a motley crew.
During the band's first set, we heard classic soul music, and although none of the songs were familiar to me except one ("Ain't Too Proud to Beg"), they all had that smooth soul groove and people began to dance.
Jason had told the crowd that that was the idea.
With trumpet, trombone, sax, electric bass, keyboards, drums, guitar and a male and female singer, they had every component required for delivering R & B.
A DJ friend was particularly taken with their rendition of "Get Out of My Life, Woman" with its slower intensity.
Just before their last song, Prabir observed that they needed to tear it up before the break to ensure everyone stuck around for the second set.
"Second sets are the best," he said knowingly. "But it's time to give 'em the cheese plate."
The band played a high energy number that seemed likely to leave people wanting for more.
During the break, I spoke to Jason, the group's mastermind, who admitted that he'd gotten the idea when he saw how popular the soul DJ nights were.
Why not play the classic soul repertory live, he thought. "But I didn't know the music at all, so I went to Spotify and started looking for artists and songs, some I knew and some I didn't and picked from that."
And for their second set, they destroyed it.
Songs like "It's Your Thing," which had people dancing within the first few notes.
"Your Love Keeps Lifting Me Higher" and "Tired of Being Alone" were well received, but when that big old bass line began for "Tell Me something Good," Prabir and I about lost it.
There was the quintessential song of the evening for me.
The brass, having no part in it, began to dance in place, getting as funky as the dancers in front of them and bass player Cameron's head got a workout grooving along.
When I heard the band begin "Try a Little Tenderness," with its quiet intro, I turned to Prabir and said of the suddenly-chatting crowd, "They have no idea what's about to happen."
Grinning maniacally, he nodded. "No, they don't. It's gonna be awesome."
When the song finally broke open, the room exploded as people began dancing, flailing and shouting with the energy of the song.
After they did "Chain of Fools," I asked a bartender friend what he thought of the band.
"I couldn't see them at first and when I heard that singer, I thought she was an old black woman," he said. "When I finally saw she was a young white girl, I couldn't believe it! They're great."
Likewise, Charles Arthur on guitar and vocals had done a stellar job on the songs where he sang lead.
"This is our first show ever," Jason informed the crowd before their last song.
Judging by the amazing musicianship (they'd only had one rehearsal), ideal variety of known and unknown material and enthusiasm emanating from them, I'd say the Hi-Steps are going to be the big must-see act this fall.
Think about it.
Live soul music performed by some of the top musicians in town.
Mad energy for nearly three straight hours.
I'd suggest you wear your dancing shoes.
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