Musical Tuesday: Preachers' Guns and Sons

If I'd set out to have an evening of contrasting musical experiences, I couldn't have accomplished it any better than where I found myself tonight.

It was the end of an era at the Listening Room, with tonight's show being the final one at the Michaux House; after a stellar fifteen-month run there, the monthly event is moving to the Firehouse Theater.

No more will we walk down the outdoor staircase to the basement for a talk-free show, so it was a little bittersweet knowing I'd never again eat a donut or ask a dumb musical question of a musician there.

Tonight's show was a strong one, making for the appropriate sendoff for the turning of the venue page. Singer-songwriter Knox Hubard was introduced with the words, "I have seen grown women swoon at the sound of his voice."

I know for sure that he was the first LR performer ever to wear a corduroy blazer or have his lyrics/set list taped to his guitar.

He did have a beautiful voice, showcased with well-written songs and impeccable delivery. He sang about trains, a song he'd written after a trip with his son, and about finding the love of your life, with assistance from Mark of Louisiana Territory (whom he'd written it for on the occasion of his marriage) and Chris and Antonia of the Speckled Bird.

Up second was Allison Self, a long-time favorite of mine who'd been traveling so much the past year that she hadn't been playing out much.

Tonight's near-capacity crowd (the baked goods were completely gone by the end of the first set) was treated to her classic Americana big voice and enthusiastic ukulele playing.

The buzz after her set was incredible; apparently a lot of people were hearing her for the first time and being blown away. She played music from her new EP "Self-Titled," (get it?), which she had for sale for $1 to $500, buyer's choice a la Radiohead.

She also covered vintage country, blues and folk, including Leadbelly's "Good Night Irene," Loretta Lynn and "St. Louis Blues." Lyric: "If it weren't for powder and store-bought hair, That man of mine wouldn't have gone nowhere." Classic stuff.

Tyler Crowley played last and he also had a new EP to play. Before he even got started, the string of lights that falls nearly every LR show fell, causing him to note, "I was at the very first Listening Room show and watched the lights fall."

As was I; now it's practically guaranteed to happen every time. Regulars laugh; newbies are just surprised.

Tyler had brought the crew with whom he'd recorded, including Lance Koehler, Marcus Tenney, and Reggie Chapman (all of No BS) and Jonathan Vassar and Antonia (JV & the Speckled Bird), making for the biggest band ever for the LR stage and a very full sound.

Tyler's songs were all taken from slices of his life, including "Preacher and his Gun," a song he described as, "Imagine if Clint Eastwood and Jimmy Swaggert morphed into one man."

My favorite was the lush "Restless Feeling," full of warm horns and indie swagger. He said it sounded even better on the CD than it had live, but I don't see how that's possible.

He closed with a cover of his favorite song, Radiohead's "Let Down." I went to compliment him on the set after the show and before I could, he asked if I'd been at the Symphony Sunday because he thought he'd seen me. "You are at every kind of show," he laughed.

It was appropriate because Tyler and I first met at the Camel when he came up to me and said, "I see you at every show I go to. Who are you?"

After saying good-bye to the Micheaux House for the last time, a couple of friends and I took the short drive to the Republic for a very different sort of musical event.

Prabir and Treesa, half of Prabir and the Goldrush, were playing music from movies. It's part of their themed series at Republic; last time it was all about sex.

They were finishing up their first set when we got there and during the break, Treesa came up to hug me and thank me for coming because, she said, "I know you hate this venue."

It's the smoke I hate and the reeking afterwards actually, but, even so, I told her, I wouldn't have missed seeing what the set list was.

Besides, 48 hours ago, I had been listening to Treesa play violin with the Richmond Symphony performing Pucini and Verdi; how could I resist hearing something so different from her tonight?

And there were some doozies. They opened with the theme from Star Wars and Jaws before cutting loose on "Gangsta's Paradise."

Imagine a white girl from Kansas playing violin and rapping while using her phone for the lyrics. It really needed to be seen and heard to be believed. The crowd roared their approval and her husband taped the entire thing for posterity (or blackmail, I don't know which).

There was an exuberant (read: drunk and loud) crowd at Republic for the show and much enthusiasm as they launched into music from Pulp Fiction, including "Son of a Preacher Man."

The theme to Aladdin, "A Whole New World" was familiar enough to Treesa that she didn't even need her phone, nor did the singalong crowd. Who knew there were so many Aladdin fans at the Republic on a Tuesday night?

For "Ghostbusters," they turned on the fog machine and really got the crowd going. Afterwards, Treesa pouted, "I don't want to stop using the fog machine." Not a complaint you hear every day.

But she did because it wasn't needed for the cheesiest possible one-two punch closer ever imagined, a medley of "Wind Beneath My Wings" and "Everything I Do (I Do for You)." Some of the girls in the crowd were clearly in rapture mode as they belted out the lyrics with the band.

If Prabir hadn't set out to pick two of the absolute corniest songs ever written, he'd inadvertently shown cornball genius.

Or, as Treesa's husband Matt summed it up for the ages, "This is really a comedy show." Musical comedy, but comedy for sure.

That's fine. From earnest early on to laughing later on, I'll take my music every way I can get it.