Keeping You in Light

Timing is everything.

When Mac and I set out to walk this morning at 10 a.m., we were almost immediately passed by both a speeding cop and a speeding fire vehicle, but even that didn't prepare us to find several blocks of Franklin and Main closed to traffic as we walked down Second Street toward the river.

Now we know that's because at 10:05, police encountered a man in a kilt carrying a knife in one hand and an ax in the other at Third and Main Streets, tried to de-escalate the situation and wound up killing the man.

Honestly, I'm glad we were blissfully unaware of being a block from a situation, though I still feel we were a bit too close for comfort.

When we met up for dinner tonight at 8 1/2, the restaurant was as calm and serene as it had been harried and overcrowded last Tuesday.

Just when you make sure to allow extra time, it turns out you don't need it.

Not having to wait for my obscenely good turkey hero only meant that we could score a good bench and have a leisurely picnic in Scuffletown park before the music began. Mac showed off her mad picnicking skills by not only bringing cloth napkins but also a fat slice of chocolate espresso cake and two forks for sharing.

Originator of the music in the park series and tonight's featured performer Patrick arrived to unload his equipment with Fleetwood Mac's "Dreams" blaring in his car and setting the evening's tone. Before long, a woman came over and asked if she could place her chair next to our bench without obstructing our view.

We welcomed the company and just before things got started, her husband showed up to join her.

The dance party king (and the man who'd once described me as "part of the fabric of Richmond") played host tonight, announcing, "Welcome to this Fall night in July," a nod to temperatures in the low '70s, before introducing Patrick and his band: violin, cello and drums.

At that moment, the woman turned to us and announced proudly, "That's our son!" and the man whispered, "He gets his talent from his parents."

Ah, that explained the young woman I'd overheard saying to them, "I heard your house was the one for jamming!" Good parents don't mind a little ruckus when their kid's got talent.

"Happy Tuesday. Finally, the weather broke!" Patrick said by way of greeting an ever-growing crowd that ignored the "Stay off the grass" signs and sprawled out on, yes, the lawn, as well as on bricks, on tables and benches. The crowds seem to grow every week.

Tonight's delightful weather was the ideal backdrop for the exquisite sounds of violin and cello played in the great outdoors to the thrum of cicada harmonies and brushes on drums.

Patrick's songs had the singer\songwriter qualities of dreamy lost '70s gems.

When he announced he was going to play a really old song, it got his parents buzzing, so I asked if they were trying to guess which song he might play. "Trying to guess the era," his Dad laughed.

Saying he was about to play some songs from the EP he put out a couple of years ago, Patrick admitted that he didn't get to play them much anymore. Why? "They're not as loud as I feel like I wanna be now."

Definitely not loud but most assuredly well-crafted and beautifully sung (and played), Before long, his parents were wondering which of his angst-y songs was next, while I was curious if he'd ever sung anything but.

"He always played angst-y songs, maybe a little less these days, but he only sang happy songs when he was little," his Mom explained as the band began what could almost surely be called a somewhat happy song.

She turned to me, palms up in surprise and grinning when she heard how relatively upbeat - "In the long run, you're going to have to help yourself" - it sounded with the strings winding their way through the rustling tree branches.

When Patrick announced that the band would do one more, someone called out, "Two!" and his devoted Mom yelled, "Three!" but he dashed their hopes, saying, "Not gonna happen" and instead inquired of the crowd who knew Suzanne Vega.

All the hands of a certain age went up and he rhapsodized about her music being the stuff of his childhood before taking on Vega's "Night Vision."

When the darkness takes you
With her hand across your face
Don't give in too quickly
Find the things she's erased

Find the line, find the shape
through the grain
Find the outline
Things will tell you their name

Some sets run long at Scuffletown, others, like tonight's, aren't nearly long enough given how wonderful the music sounds.

The consolation was that when the show broke up, the post-show mingling began and it soon became obvious that lots of people are pairing up these days.

I finally got to meet the dance king's new Queens-via-Texas squeeze, a charming woman who'd spent two hours in the river with him today and was already taken with Richmond's quirky charms.

Group discussion of architecture, history, trees and cost of living followed, with someone even nerdier than me suggesting a book she might enjoy for reference.

The scientist, whom I hadn't seen in at least a year, arrived after a Boy Scout meeting and surprised us all by announcing he now has a girlfriend and that he's "following her all over town."

Mac assured him that we love when guys do that.

As the blues harmonica player was being introduced to me, I reminded him that we'd met nearly a decade ago and he blushed to have forgotten me. I reminded him that while I've seen him play plenty, there would be no reason for him to recall one more face in the crowd. Still, he apologized unnecessarily.

As I was walking out, I ran into the traveling tailor and artist who's moving to New Orleans on Monday. In an effort to lighten his moving load, he's been selling off his paintings - at a rate of at least one per day, to his amazement - including a large piece sold to Black Sheep, coincidentally his favorite restaurant.

Talking about the move, he admitted that he hopes the time is right to do it, the consolation being that he can always come back if it doesn't suit him.

"But I've got to find out," he said earnestly about pulling up stakes.

If the timing's right, you'll know, I reassured him. And if not, heaven knows Richmond welcomes back all who leave.

As the great Fleetwood Mac oracle reminded us earlier tonight, it's not only right that you should play the way you feel, but that you listen carefully to the sound of your loneliness.

Sometimes it's the best motivator when you've just got to find out. And timing truly is everything.

Now Hear This

After keeping it in the neighborhood all day long, I did the same tonight.

It wasn't a tough call. There was a terrific show at Gallery 5 and on my walk over, I saw the sloppy remains of Broad Appetit being dismantled, plastic soda and water bottles still littering the street.

No surprise, it always takes a few days to recover from the influx of visitors to the 'hood, people who forget that this is a place where people actually live, not just festival central.

At Gallery 5, I said hello to a few musicians I knew before heading inside for the show to begin.

The inimitable Dave Watkins was first up, wooing people away from their conversations and phones to watch him work magic on his electric dulcitar.

They really had no choice once he kicked into the second song, a punch to the gut that was far harder than usual and screamed far closer to Half Bascule, his Appalachian folk/spaghetti western/metal project.

A Mogwai cover wasn't far behind as I savored Dave's take on post rock and a band I know he loves.

The enthusiastic applause at the end of his set came from both people like me who've had the pleasure of watching him for years as well as those who were seeing him for the first time tonight, marveling at how one man can make so much sound.

Next came Blanks, in their first appearance playing out and fronted by Jessica Blanks, whom I've seen play violin and keyboards many times in the past as part of Zac Hyricak and the Jungle Beat.

They were four women - cello, violin/synth and two guitars - and a guy on drums, with his drum kit decorated with garlands of roses.

Jessica had told me outside that she'd be playing guitar, something I'd never seen her do, and that she was nervous. I recognized the other guitarist from the band Spandrel, purveyors of classic '70s-sounding rock and it was she who took charge, saying to the crowd, "Guys, don't stand back there. It's dark!" and pulling us closer to the stage.

She and Jessica sang together, their voices blending beautifully on Jessica's songs as they worked through their set.

We soon learned that Jack the drummer won't graduate high school until next week. "So are you saying he's barely legal?" a girl called from the audience. And if he is, then what?

Wait, wait, don't tell me.

Their chamber pop rock sound was fascinating for the amalgamation of cello and violin with synths, drum and guitar and I'm looking forward to future shows as they get more comfortable with each other and the material.

I thought they showed extraordinary promise for a first outing.

Brooklyn's Cal Folger Day took the stage next, starting by playing guitar and singing. "I'm going to begin with a song about crockery called "Butterfingers," she deadpanned.

Her voice was a revelation, part Joni Mitchell, part Regina Spektor and her lyrics both quirky and confessional.

When she couldn't remember the opening line to a song, she shrugged and said, "And the name of the song is "Stupid!" It didn't matter, she went on to play "Having a Boyfriend Ain't the Christian Thing to Do" with her tongue firmly in cheek (I think).

As a heathen, frankly it doesn't matter to me whether it is or isn't.

Eventually the "Stupid" lyrics came back to her and she played it for us, including the brilliant lyric, "If only you were stupid, then this would be easy." Ain't it the truth?

After a while, she moved over to the keyboard saying she was a fan of the DelMarVa area and the word itself before singing a song about Lewes, Delaware, a place her family has a home.

Her voice was amazing, whether on a song about where you want your body buried or about having a teenage crush on the man whose kids you babysit.

When she finished, she let us know she had music for sale along with an illustrated housekeeping manual. You know, that last bit of information didn't even come as a surprise, unique as she came across.

To close out the evening was Nevin Kight, the name of Kevin Night's music project. He's a guitarist with Wild Nothing, which means I may already have seen him when I saw Wild Nothing play Strange Matter two summers ago on a blazingly hot August night.

He's in town recording an album and he'd assembled a group of local musicians including Jessica and one of the guys from Spandrel, among others, to play with him tonight so we were looking at two guitarists, a bassist, a violinist and two drummers.

Seems they'd begun at 12:30 last night and practiced for three hours and now we were going to see how that worked out.

As they kicked into "Affirmation" off that upcoming record, one of the drummers grabbed a tambourine in one hand and a grapefruit in the other and perched on top of an amp, looming over Kevin.

As he took a bite from the fruit, he jumped down, sat on the stage and peeled it before taking off into the audience to distribute sections to some of us.

I'd have to say it's the first time I've been handed grapefruit at a show.

"We're going to do a Chris Isaak cover," Kevin said, "but all the songs on that album are great, not just "Wicked Game."

I thought they nailed the cover, even if not everyone knew exactly when the song was supposed to end. As Kevin pointed out, considering the band wasn't even a day old, they were doing a damn fine job.

Saying he had dreamed the song, Kevin announced "Serf Under the Table," which grew into a psychedelic wall of guitar and drum sound I was hoping would never end. My wish is that it will sound that big on the album.

"Work It Out" and "Changeling" were almost as good and you could see the musicians getting more comfortable with each song.

Kevin said his new album was being recorded in Nashville and Richmond and I found it appropriate to hear us in the company of music city.

The band left the stage except for Jessica and Kevin and they closed with "Angels and Birds," which would have been the slow dance of the evening if this had been a dance.

But it wasn't a dance, it was just a grand neighborhood show to close out Sunday. For the most part, a fun day.