I saw the whole of the moon.
Surely that was what delivered such a mind-blowing show tonight.
It was going to be just a Monday night in the 'hood - a walk to the pizza door at Tarrant's for several slices eaten in a booth listening to employee chatter from behind the unseen counter before a show.
Whoa, what?
And that's all that I got.
What's that address again?
And it's fully erect!
Dude, wait.
True story.
Halfway to Gallery 5, I heard Canary Oh Canary's distinctive drumming, telling me the show had begun.
Inside, a small crowd was watching them do their usual intense set and I spotted several familiar faces.
Next came Horsehead with their straight ahead rock and roll enlivened by the dapperly-dressed Kevin on guitar, keyboard and slide.
"I just got word back from the bouncer that it's okay to come to the front," the lead singer implored. "You won't be thrown out for coming closer."
The crowd was tenative at best about getting too close.
During the break before Ken Stringfellow came out, a woman came over to grab her coat from a chair near me and I smiled at her.
"People are so friendly in Virginia!" she exclaimed, clearly surprised."I could live here!"
A Floridian, she's up here on business training and had decided to get out and hear live music.
Right there, she got major points. What a good visitor.
She was impressed at the age range of the show attendees and shared that she'd already eaten at Comfort and Tarrant's.
I suggested Bistro 27 for tomorrow since it's also within the orbit of her hotel.
Someone's got to steer the tourists right.
Before Ken Stringfellow started, a friend came over and expressed surprise that it was clearly going to be solo show.
He'd expected at least a small band but it was looking like Ken with guitar and keyboard.
Fine by me.
We agreed that it was an exciting prospect.
When he took the stage, it was to tell us how stuffed he was. "I ate at Comfort and I know what that's short for - uncomfortably full. It was so good."
He promptly grabbed his guitar and harmonica, walked down the stage's steps and began singing amongst us little people.
Reality is subject to cancellation.
Because the crowd was embarrassingly small (come on, people, do the Posies or Big Star mean nothing to you?), it was like being at a house party with Ken in the center.
Ken Stringfellow in the center.
Very cool.
The guy's got a stellar voice, standout songwriting skills and a genuine charisma and obvious delight in performing, making us a most fortunate audience.
At one point, my friend Gregg, a drummer, leaned over and remarked on what a terrifically intimate thing we were experiencing.
"This is the best show I've been to in years. I'm glad you're here too or no one would believe me when I told them about this," he whispered.
True story, to quote the Beavis and Butthead troupe behind the Tarrant's counter.
After singing a few songs while wandering among us, he returned to the stage to play keyboards for a few more.
Maybe he anticipated being lonely up there on stage by himself, so when he invited us to join him onstage, I was one of the dozen who did.
Sure, some people stayed on the floor where they could see him head on, but not me.
For all I know, no musician may ever again invite me to join him so this wasn't an opportunity I could pass up.
Best of all, he kept swiveling around to look at us and smile like he was plumb tickled to have the company.
Eventually we all migrated back down to the floor and Ken took up his guitar again.
He also said he'd plucked a feather from the Richmond bird and invited local songbird Julie Karr to join him for a few songs.
Julie's husky voice matched or harmonized with Ken's for four songs, including Neil Young's achingly beautiful "Birds."
Singing inches from each other while Ken played guitar and Julie kept time with her hands, it gave me chills and, judging from those around me, they felt the same.
Once they finished, he did an exquisite version of "Moon River," taking it in directions Henry Mancini could never have imagined but would have found beautiful.
When he headed back up on stage, he motioned us to follow and many of us did.
There, he enlisted assistance from the singer of Horsehead to sing Big Star's "Thirteen," surely one of the most beautiful songs about the teen angst years ever written and suddenly an audience member jumped onstage to sing along.
Would you be an outlaw for my love?
Pretty soon, half the audience joined in so he followed that with the Posie's "Solar Sister" and even more people knew every word.
You thought you could defeat her
You're lucky you could meet her
There was even shoulder holding and swaying while the crowd sang onstage.
Time was running out but the crowd was having none of him ending his set, so he caved, saying, "I only pull this out for special occasions...and when I don't see a jail."
It only took a couple of notes to recognize the Beach Boys' "God Only Knows" and the singalong was now complete.
Gregg had been right. "Without you blogging about it, it's like it never happened," a friend had chided me after missing his show last night.
So here's my proof that the Ken Stringfellow-in-the-round show happened.
And if I can be in a converted firehouse on the night of a full moon listening to a man's voice I have swooned to since 1993 sing, "I'm crossing you in style someday," you can bet I've got a mile-wide smile on my face.
Who couldn't live here?
Showing posts with label horsehead. Show all posts
Showing posts with label horsehead. Show all posts
Tuesday, February 26, 2013
Sunday, July 17, 2011
Long Arms to Hold All the Girls
"My heart stopped when I saw you walk in."
Given the right circumstances, those words would make a girl go weak in the knees but they had another meaning entirely tonight.
I'd gone to the Camel to see a triple bill with Long Arms headlining. Long Arms is the band of my fellow nerd and lecture-attendee, James.
He has chastised me more than once for not attending the band's shows (always due to a prior commitment, I might add) so my arrival had been noted immediately.
He gasped, he gave me a hard time, but I was glad to finally take away his ammo. Then I told him what a great Civil War lecture he'd missed Thursday night at the Library of Virginia...and he wanted details.
That's a nerd.
There was already a good-sized crowd milling about and it was barely 10:00, not always the case
It should be noted and exclaimed over that the show began on time. At the Camel on a Saturday night. Whoa.
Promptly at 10, DC singer/songwriter Justin Jones (with an upright bass player, but minus the Driving Rain) started playing, making sure to include some "Saturday night songs."
Despite a well-executed set, the crowd talked on.
A friend came over to ask me why a girl was wearing a see-through shirt, as if I would know what goes on in the mind of a 22-year old.
"Does Taco Bell wrap their burritos in clear plastic?" he asked rhetorically. "No. Where's the anticipation with that?" No clue.
Meanwhile, I noted a guy in a blue "I ♥ Hot Moms" t-shirt, not one you see every day, especially at a show.
When Justin left the stage, his button-down shirt was soaked through front and back from his energetic set.
Horsehead was next and after the first song, a girl walked by me, stopped and noted, "Look at the singer with the hat on. He looks like Kid Rock." True that.
Calling their set a "rock show," the band went hard, with Kevin delivering his usual guitar magnificence.
"This is Kevin's debut on piano," we were told. "If you ask what Kevin plays, Kevin plays everything." And very well, I might add.
The girl at the merch table next to me decided to mount the back of the booth (beer in hand) to see better and as she did so, she requested, "If I fall, you have to catch me."
Ethically, maybe, but she wasn't the boss of me. On the other hand, I did not want a body dropping on to me from above, so I kept one eye peeled in her direction.
In addition to the transparent and the hot mom-loving attire, there was an abundance of girls in strapless and low-cut dresses tonight. It was almost as if a memo had gone out.
Curious about it, I asked someone for an explanation, only to be told that they were hoping to get lucky with James.
Nerdy James? James I see at the Historical Society with alarming regularity? James who gloats over knowing about a lecture I don't?
Inquiring minds had to know. Next time James passed me, I asked him outright.
"I heard all these scantily-clad girls are here because they want to have sex with you."
He grinned.
"They might be," he allowed. "Well, no not really. Well, maybe."
A friend later told me that if I didn't want to sleep with James, I failed the heterosexuality test.
For what it's worth, he's also the friend who greeted me by saying, "I'd ask what you've been up to, but I can do the research myself."
Yet another of my comedian/musician friends.
A cake had been baked for the occasion, frosted in turquoise icing to match the turquoise 7" Horsehead/Long Arms record being released tonight.
I had no qualms whatsoever about being the first to cut the cake (nod to AWB), putting two pieces on my plate and sharing with a friend who assured me that my sexuality was not in question because I didn't want to sleep with James.
Long Arms rocked hard from the second they began their set, playing songs from their CD and the new record.
The highlight came when James said, "This is a song about a woman from the Civil War who lived in Church Hill." A runaway? A spy? Are we talking Elizabeth van Lewes?
Forget Sexy Beast, that's the nerd I know.
Given the right circumstances, those words would make a girl go weak in the knees but they had another meaning entirely tonight.
I'd gone to the Camel to see a triple bill with Long Arms headlining. Long Arms is the band of my fellow nerd and lecture-attendee, James.
He has chastised me more than once for not attending the band's shows (always due to a prior commitment, I might add) so my arrival had been noted immediately.
He gasped, he gave me a hard time, but I was glad to finally take away his ammo. Then I told him what a great Civil War lecture he'd missed Thursday night at the Library of Virginia...and he wanted details.
That's a nerd.
There was already a good-sized crowd milling about and it was barely 10:00, not always the case
It should be noted and exclaimed over that the show began on time. At the Camel on a Saturday night. Whoa.
Promptly at 10, DC singer/songwriter Justin Jones (with an upright bass player, but minus the Driving Rain) started playing, making sure to include some "Saturday night songs."
Despite a well-executed set, the crowd talked on.
A friend came over to ask me why a girl was wearing a see-through shirt, as if I would know what goes on in the mind of a 22-year old.
"Does Taco Bell wrap their burritos in clear plastic?" he asked rhetorically. "No. Where's the anticipation with that?" No clue.
Meanwhile, I noted a guy in a blue "I ♥ Hot Moms" t-shirt, not one you see every day, especially at a show.
When Justin left the stage, his button-down shirt was soaked through front and back from his energetic set.
Horsehead was next and after the first song, a girl walked by me, stopped and noted, "Look at the singer with the hat on. He looks like Kid Rock." True that.
Calling their set a "rock show," the band went hard, with Kevin delivering his usual guitar magnificence.
"This is Kevin's debut on piano," we were told. "If you ask what Kevin plays, Kevin plays everything." And very well, I might add.
The girl at the merch table next to me decided to mount the back of the booth (beer in hand) to see better and as she did so, she requested, "If I fall, you have to catch me."
Ethically, maybe, but she wasn't the boss of me. On the other hand, I did not want a body dropping on to me from above, so I kept one eye peeled in her direction.
In addition to the transparent and the hot mom-loving attire, there was an abundance of girls in strapless and low-cut dresses tonight. It was almost as if a memo had gone out.
Curious about it, I asked someone for an explanation, only to be told that they were hoping to get lucky with James.
Nerdy James? James I see at the Historical Society with alarming regularity? James who gloats over knowing about a lecture I don't?
Inquiring minds had to know. Next time James passed me, I asked him outright.
"I heard all these scantily-clad girls are here because they want to have sex with you."
He grinned.
"They might be," he allowed. "Well, no not really. Well, maybe."
A friend later told me that if I didn't want to sleep with James, I failed the heterosexuality test.
For what it's worth, he's also the friend who greeted me by saying, "I'd ask what you've been up to, but I can do the research myself."
Yet another of my comedian/musician friends.
A cake had been baked for the occasion, frosted in turquoise icing to match the turquoise 7" Horsehead/Long Arms record being released tonight.
I had no qualms whatsoever about being the first to cut the cake (nod to AWB), putting two pieces on my plate and sharing with a friend who assured me that my sexuality was not in question because I didn't want to sleep with James.
Long Arms rocked hard from the second they began their set, playing songs from their CD and the new record.
The highlight came when James said, "This is a song about a woman from the Civil War who lived in Church Hill." A runaway? A spy? Are we talking Elizabeth van Lewes?
Forget Sexy Beast, that's the nerd I know.
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
Jewish Anniversary Sex
Eat Jewish food
Sleep in a Christian bed
Wear Muslim clothing
That was only one of the many lessons I learned at the Encyclopedia of Jewish Food dinner that I attended at the JCC tonight, but then I had a lot to learn on the topic, being an Irish (lapsed) Catholic and all.
And no, for change, I wasn't solo; my date was one of my blog readers who'd contacted me and suggested that we meet up and enjoy the dinner and lecture together. Write a blog! Meet new people!
Between the charming company, trying new foods and (because I am a nerd) the interesting stuff I learned in the lecture/cooking demonstration, I had a terrific time.
Dinner began with the Romanian vegetable stew Guvetch and, given the Romanian propensity to put garlic in everything, I loved this dish. The woman on the other side of me picked out her cooked carrots (she only likes them raw) and I so wanted to fish them out of her bowland eat them, but thought better of it.
As we were eating the stew, author Gil Marks began a demonstration of making Keftes (Sepahardic leek patties), telling the audience that "the best implement in the kitchen is the human hand." My Southern grandmother would have agreed with him.
Next up was Fesenjan (Persian chicken with pomegranates and walnuts), fidellos tostados (Sepahardic toasted noodles) and the Keftes de Prasa that Marks had just shown us how to make. I was particularly fond of the onion, pomegranate and walnut mixture in the chicken's broth.
My non-Jewishness became glaringly apparent when the event's photographer came around to take a picture of our table. Someone suggested we have it taken bar mitzvah-style and still I sat in my seat.
Only when told did I understand that I needed to get up and stand behind the people on the other side of the table. Let's hope the picture doesn't reveal my cluelessness.
As we were nibbling Middle Eastern filled cookies (the iced anise was delicious), Marks went on to talk about the Americanization of Jewish food.
Once Jews began making some of their foodstuffs for sale, their best customers, he said, were the pioneers headed west and looking for well-preserved, long-lasting foods. Matzohs in covered wagons; who knew?
I had warned my date that I had a commitment immediately after the dinner lecture, so I said my goodbye and headed to the Listening Room's one-year anniversary performance. As one of the 95 people who came to the very first LR show, I was not going to miss tonight's music.
The LR is put on by the Foundry, a collective of musicians and artists who make it all happen every month. Appropriately, three members of that group were also tonight's first band, Jonathan Vassar and the Speckled Bird.
Despite having seen them perform many, many times over the past three years, tonight's show was something special. It came across as especially emotional and even songs I've heard before had been fine-tuned and seemed to hold fresh nuances.
And oh yes, Antonia did her legendary vox saw and even husband Jonathan acknowledged that he has no idea how she makes that amazing sound ("I tried once in the shower and it sounded like a dying rabbit.")
Favorite lyric: Think of me. I know that you know who I am.
Psalmships from Philly was next and singer/songwriter Josh told us that his band hadn't been able to make it. It didn't matter; his four-string guitar playing and distinctive voice delivered a noteworthy set.
He praised RVA, saying, "I don't really know what's going on in Richmond, but if Jonathan Vassar and Horsehead are any indication, you need to block the gates." I loved hearing that an out-of-towner recognized what a great scene we have here.
Favorite lyric: You can't get here fast enough. I will swim to you."
Horsehead played last and I had seen them do an acoustic set at Six Burner a while back, although they acknowledged that they're an electric band. They were very polished, very tight musically and the crowd really liked them.
They deviated from their set list only once, to play a new song about stalking...told from the stalker's perspective. "Hate me if you will," the lead singer said admitting that it was the first such song he knew of. He's undoubtedly right about that, but the audience found humor in the song.
Lead guitarist Kevin was a pleasure to watch from my front row seat; his talented musicianship and beautiful harmonies were the set's highlight for me.
I might add that both he and the bass player had a dimple, a surprisingly high dimple ratio for a four-piece band (I notice this kind of thing only because I have dimples myself).
Tonight's show ran unusually long for the Listening Room (not that anyone was complaining, mind you), but not so late that I couldn't head over to Republic afterwards with a couple of friends for a show about sex.
The inimitable Prabir Mehta was playing a show all about sex with his partner in crime (and symphony violinist) Treesa Gold. There were booty bags and condoms being handed out. And why was I there?
Not because I like Republic cause I don't (Andrew and I went one time and permanently crossed it off our list). Everyone in the place smokes, so we reeked after being in there for a relatively short time. And the crowd is, well, the crowd wouldn't like me.
But Prabir and Treesa are friends and talented musicians and I was curious to see what kind of hilarity would ensue. Would they even be able to keep straight faces?
It was totally worth it. Treesa rapped (yes, really) and as Prabir's brother noted, "That's the whitest thing I ever heard in my life." Her husband cringed and fortified himself with many Bass Ales (he also shot video, it should be noted).
When the smoke and annoying people finally got to us, we left, but just as we stepped outside, I heard the first few notes of the Divinyls' masterfully metaphoric "I Touch Myself." There was no way I could walk away from that.
On the side of the building, I slowly opened the door that faces the stage so we had our own private viewing area. The three of us watched as Prabir and Treesa tore it up.
At the end, Prabir glanced over at us with a look of pure sheepishness. Treesa beamed.
Keftes with a reader, four-string guitars and dimples, booty bags and self-pleasuring. This may have been a Tuesday night for the books.
Sleep in a Christian bed
Wear Muslim clothing
That was only one of the many lessons I learned at the Encyclopedia of Jewish Food dinner that I attended at the JCC tonight, but then I had a lot to learn on the topic, being an Irish (lapsed) Catholic and all.
And no, for change, I wasn't solo; my date was one of my blog readers who'd contacted me and suggested that we meet up and enjoy the dinner and lecture together. Write a blog! Meet new people!
Between the charming company, trying new foods and (because I am a nerd) the interesting stuff I learned in the lecture/cooking demonstration, I had a terrific time.
Dinner began with the Romanian vegetable stew Guvetch and, given the Romanian propensity to put garlic in everything, I loved this dish. The woman on the other side of me picked out her cooked carrots (she only likes them raw) and I so wanted to fish them out of her bowland eat them, but thought better of it.
As we were eating the stew, author Gil Marks began a demonstration of making Keftes (Sepahardic leek patties), telling the audience that "the best implement in the kitchen is the human hand." My Southern grandmother would have agreed with him.
Next up was Fesenjan (Persian chicken with pomegranates and walnuts), fidellos tostados (Sepahardic toasted noodles) and the Keftes de Prasa that Marks had just shown us how to make. I was particularly fond of the onion, pomegranate and walnut mixture in the chicken's broth.
My non-Jewishness became glaringly apparent when the event's photographer came around to take a picture of our table. Someone suggested we have it taken bar mitzvah-style and still I sat in my seat.
Only when told did I understand that I needed to get up and stand behind the people on the other side of the table. Let's hope the picture doesn't reveal my cluelessness.
As we were nibbling Middle Eastern filled cookies (the iced anise was delicious), Marks went on to talk about the Americanization of Jewish food.
Once Jews began making some of their foodstuffs for sale, their best customers, he said, were the pioneers headed west and looking for well-preserved, long-lasting foods. Matzohs in covered wagons; who knew?
I had warned my date that I had a commitment immediately after the dinner lecture, so I said my goodbye and headed to the Listening Room's one-year anniversary performance. As one of the 95 people who came to the very first LR show, I was not going to miss tonight's music.
The LR is put on by the Foundry, a collective of musicians and artists who make it all happen every month. Appropriately, three members of that group were also tonight's first band, Jonathan Vassar and the Speckled Bird.
Despite having seen them perform many, many times over the past three years, tonight's show was something special. It came across as especially emotional and even songs I've heard before had been fine-tuned and seemed to hold fresh nuances.
And oh yes, Antonia did her legendary vox saw and even husband Jonathan acknowledged that he has no idea how she makes that amazing sound ("I tried once in the shower and it sounded like a dying rabbit.")
Favorite lyric: Think of me. I know that you know who I am.
Psalmships from Philly was next and singer/songwriter Josh told us that his band hadn't been able to make it. It didn't matter; his four-string guitar playing and distinctive voice delivered a noteworthy set.
He praised RVA, saying, "I don't really know what's going on in Richmond, but if Jonathan Vassar and Horsehead are any indication, you need to block the gates." I loved hearing that an out-of-towner recognized what a great scene we have here.
Favorite lyric: You can't get here fast enough. I will swim to you."
Horsehead played last and I had seen them do an acoustic set at Six Burner a while back, although they acknowledged that they're an electric band. They were very polished, very tight musically and the crowd really liked them.
They deviated from their set list only once, to play a new song about stalking...told from the stalker's perspective. "Hate me if you will," the lead singer said admitting that it was the first such song he knew of. He's undoubtedly right about that, but the audience found humor in the song.
Lead guitarist Kevin was a pleasure to watch from my front row seat; his talented musicianship and beautiful harmonies were the set's highlight for me.
I might add that both he and the bass player had a dimple, a surprisingly high dimple ratio for a four-piece band (I notice this kind of thing only because I have dimples myself).
Tonight's show ran unusually long for the Listening Room (not that anyone was complaining, mind you), but not so late that I couldn't head over to Republic afterwards with a couple of friends for a show about sex.
The inimitable Prabir Mehta was playing a show all about sex with his partner in crime (and symphony violinist) Treesa Gold. There were booty bags and condoms being handed out. And why was I there?
Not because I like Republic cause I don't (Andrew and I went one time and permanently crossed it off our list). Everyone in the place smokes, so we reeked after being in there for a relatively short time. And the crowd is, well, the crowd wouldn't like me.
But Prabir and Treesa are friends and talented musicians and I was curious to see what kind of hilarity would ensue. Would they even be able to keep straight faces?
It was totally worth it. Treesa rapped (yes, really) and as Prabir's brother noted, "That's the whitest thing I ever heard in my life." Her husband cringed and fortified himself with many Bass Ales (he also shot video, it should be noted).
When the smoke and annoying people finally got to us, we left, but just as we stepped outside, I heard the first few notes of the Divinyls' masterfully metaphoric "I Touch Myself." There was no way I could walk away from that.
On the side of the building, I slowly opened the door that faces the stage so we had our own private viewing area. The three of us watched as Prabir and Treesa tore it up.
At the end, Prabir glanced over at us with a look of pure sheepishness. Treesa beamed.
Keftes with a reader, four-string guitars and dimples, booty bags and self-pleasuring. This may have been a Tuesday night for the books.
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