What kind of an idiot does something stupid and then beats herself up for her stupidity?
The kind who meets a friend for dinner at Lulu's and listens to tales of her friend's recent dating exploits while enjoying a hearty lentil soup followed by ham and parsley terrine (house-smoked ham hocks, carrots cooked with the ham and parsley), picililli and grilled sourdough.
I loved the huge chunks of hocks in the terrine; they reminded me of all the tastiest bits left around the bone after carving (my family ate a ton of ham growing up).
The kind who goes to Strange Matter to see an outstanding indie triple-bill with a room full of like-minded fans. Marionette opened strong, Long Division post-rocked out and the Diamond Center gazed shoeward.
I met a musician's charming dad (about Long Division, he said, "I like the music, but are they going to sing?" Uh, no, that's why it's post-rock, sir) who thanked me for being a fan of his son's band (and then asked if I was married!).
The kind who came out to find her car vanished, towed away with her bag and cute shoes inside. The kind who could have smacked her forehead realizing her stupidity.
But all was not lost. Strange Matter is barely 3/4 of a mile from home, it was only 52 degrees outside and the bars hadn't closed so there were still plenty of people out and about. A little walk after an enjoyable evening would surely salvage a sorry situation.
I got barely two blocks before running into Prabir, the man who last year coached me on his sure-fire method for mending a broken heart, here. I told him of my stupidity and, since he also lives in J-Ward, he offered to walk home with me. I mean, he was going there anyway, but it was still a nice gesture.
I told him about the stellar show I'd just seen and he told me about the equally good one he'd been to at the Camel. Periodically, I would say something like, "I can't believe how stupid I was!" just so I could live with myself.
Thanking him for the company when we got to my house, I couldn't resist one last moment of self-flagellation. His response?
"Don't sweat it; it'll make a great blog post."
I wouldn't say great.
Showing posts with label long division. Show all posts
Showing posts with label long division. Show all posts
Friday, October 15, 2010
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Pork Belly and Post-Rock
Because it's been a month since we last got together. Because a longer period can't be covered in one evening's conversation. Because our recent attempts to rendezvous had to be rescheduled. Because it's Wednesday.
Does the reason even matter?
We met at Six Burner just as they opened, causing server T. to ask me, "This is early for you, isn't it?" Actually it worked out well because the sky was noticeably darkening when we got there and we were safely inside before the rains came. I'm really enjoying these rain bursts we've been having and this one was no exception. Plus I had a great viewing point because of all the windows.
I could tell the second my friend had walked in that there was a very high stress level going on. "Glass or a bottle?" I asked, anticipating the answer by her harried look. We'll take a bottle of the 2006 Vietti Barbera d'Asti "Tre Vigne," please. Quickly. And let the stories begin.
My friend was thinking ahead, though, and quickly ordered the crispy pork belly over polenta with a spicy pepper sauce and ratatouille, just in case we got going and forgot to order, which we might have. We had a lot to cover (in fact, her e-mail earlier today had specified, "Remember everything...from Nags Head to now...at least").
Not that I've seen one, but I think our subject matter tonight would have made a great women's talk show (I realize that sounds sexist, but you know what I mean). Hoarders, partners who give bad birthday, sexual expectations and sibling issues. How's that for a well-rounded show?
The wine was having the desired effect, especially once it opened up a bit and the pork belly smoothed off the rest of the rough edges. Crispy and fatty, it cried out for that polenta and spicy sauce, proving once again that even pig perfection can occasionally be enhanced.
We had every intention of ordering the braised rabbit with shitakes and gnocchi but got so wrapped up in life tales that before we knew it, we both had places to be. Alcohol and fat are fine, but sometimes non-stop conversation is the best stress reliever of all. I know I needed it and she sure seemed better.
My place to be was Gallery 5 again for music. I've heard music the last two nights, but I had a couple of compelling reasons to want to check out this show too. First, Long Division, a Norfolk post-rock quintet, was playing and the last time I'd seen them, I'd fallen hard for their instrumental sound. There was no way they were going to be playing so nearby and I wasn't going to be there.
I can't say what it is about post-rock that appeals to me so much because I don't have the musical vocabulary. Suffice it to say that I can appreciate a band that doesn't rely on lyrics, doesn't use a typical popular song structure and employs an ever-changing sound scape. Once again, they made my night.
The Blue Letter. a local band, I hadn't seen since they played the Silent Music Revival for the Halloween edition 2008 improvising effectively to The Tell-Tale Heart. That show had been at Rumors, a place far too small for their sound. I was curious to hear them in a bigger space where they could breathe and it did make a big difference. The crowd understandably was very into them.
Headlining was Junius, dressed all in black, a hard rock quartet with some post-rock leanings, although they do have a vocalist, which I consider very un-post-rock-like (Sigur Ros can get away with it, but only because he sings in a made-up language). Junius' sound was big and atmospheric and they rocked...hard.
Because there's nothing wrong with going out for music three nights in a row. Because it was only four blocks from home. Because post-rock makes it sound like everything is possible. Because it's Wednesday.
Does it really matter?
Does the reason even matter?
We met at Six Burner just as they opened, causing server T. to ask me, "This is early for you, isn't it?" Actually it worked out well because the sky was noticeably darkening when we got there and we were safely inside before the rains came. I'm really enjoying these rain bursts we've been having and this one was no exception. Plus I had a great viewing point because of all the windows.
I could tell the second my friend had walked in that there was a very high stress level going on. "Glass or a bottle?" I asked, anticipating the answer by her harried look. We'll take a bottle of the 2006 Vietti Barbera d'Asti "Tre Vigne," please. Quickly. And let the stories begin.
My friend was thinking ahead, though, and quickly ordered the crispy pork belly over polenta with a spicy pepper sauce and ratatouille, just in case we got going and forgot to order, which we might have. We had a lot to cover (in fact, her e-mail earlier today had specified, "Remember everything...from Nags Head to now...at least").
Not that I've seen one, but I think our subject matter tonight would have made a great women's talk show (I realize that sounds sexist, but you know what I mean). Hoarders, partners who give bad birthday, sexual expectations and sibling issues. How's that for a well-rounded show?
The wine was having the desired effect, especially once it opened up a bit and the pork belly smoothed off the rest of the rough edges. Crispy and fatty, it cried out for that polenta and spicy sauce, proving once again that even pig perfection can occasionally be enhanced.
We had every intention of ordering the braised rabbit with shitakes and gnocchi but got so wrapped up in life tales that before we knew it, we both had places to be. Alcohol and fat are fine, but sometimes non-stop conversation is the best stress reliever of all. I know I needed it and she sure seemed better.
My place to be was Gallery 5 again for music. I've heard music the last two nights, but I had a couple of compelling reasons to want to check out this show too. First, Long Division, a Norfolk post-rock quintet, was playing and the last time I'd seen them, I'd fallen hard for their instrumental sound. There was no way they were going to be playing so nearby and I wasn't going to be there.
I can't say what it is about post-rock that appeals to me so much because I don't have the musical vocabulary. Suffice it to say that I can appreciate a band that doesn't rely on lyrics, doesn't use a typical popular song structure and employs an ever-changing sound scape. Once again, they made my night.
The Blue Letter. a local band, I hadn't seen since they played the Silent Music Revival for the Halloween edition 2008 improvising effectively to The Tell-Tale Heart. That show had been at Rumors, a place far too small for their sound. I was curious to hear them in a bigger space where they could breathe and it did make a big difference. The crowd understandably was very into them.
Headlining was Junius, dressed all in black, a hard rock quartet with some post-rock leanings, although they do have a vocalist, which I consider very un-post-rock-like (Sigur Ros can get away with it, but only because he sings in a made-up language). Junius' sound was big and atmospheric and they rocked...hard.
Because there's nothing wrong with going out for music three nights in a row. Because it was only four blocks from home. Because post-rock makes it sound like everything is possible. Because it's Wednesday.
Does it really matter?
Saturday, June 12, 2010
Get Me Started and It Just Spills Out
For the second time this week, a guy told me that he liked my passion. In this case, the comment came from a Dallas transplant (originally a New Englander) whom I'd met at Tarrant's when I went there to eat dinner and visit with a favorite bartender friend.
He was the only other bar sitter when I arrived and was busy doing something with his phone, so I didn't pay him any mind. Seeing me, he put it down and said, "I shouldn't be on my phone out on a Friday night." Given my phone feelings, that was an opening too wide for me not to jump in, so I did, eventually convincing him to bury the dreaded device under a menu and start enjoying Saturday eve.
Apparently I wasn't too overbearing because he soon began his incremental move around the bar to eventually sit next to me and pick my brain about what to do in Richmond. He's only been here since January, so his feelings about RVA are still mixed. As the bartender knowingly informed him, "You're talking to the right girl."
It's a bit challenging to just launch into what a newcomer should check out here without first getting some sense of his interests and dislikes. With a little probing, I discovered that he appreciates art, including local work and has already found a piece at Davis and Main that he plans to purchase. He'd also planned to visit the VMFA tomorrow, so I gave him my four-visit take on it.
As I made recommendations for what to see and do, I tucked into my fish tacos (grilled Mahi-Mahi, pepper jack cheese, corn relish, and guacamole with black beans), having ordered them because of a rave I'd recently heard. After having had my photographer friend over for a chatty happy hour earlier (Inama Soave Classico), I was in need of some grub to fill in the cracks and they seemed ideal for that purpose. Luckily, my transplant friend didn't seem to mind listening to a girl with guacamole dripping down her chin.
Because I was on a limited time budget (I wanted to make a show at Gallery 5 and, specifically, see the opener), I cut right to the chase and told him about my blog, suggesting he peruse it and let me know which activities I mentioned might be of interest to him and from there I would make further recommendations about what to see and do. He then graciously insisted on paying for my dinner and assured me that he'd be in touch about things to do. J-Ward girl strikes again!
The bill at Gallery 5 consisted of Long Division, Seas and Autocue, and I'd already seen the latter two, which is why I'd been determined to make it in time to see the first. Simply put, Long Division made my night. For the second time in one week, I got an excellent set of post-rock, full of swelling guitars, intricate interplay and the added pleasure of a trumpet in parts.
As much as I love a good lyric and I absolutely do, I am a complete sucker for post-rock. The band said that their influences were Sonic Youth and Radiohead, but, I'm telling you, I heard Explosions in the Sky and Yndi Halda. I can't wait for this Norfolk band to come back through town: I will insist on some of my music geek friends joining me to hear them.
Seas played next and I'd heard their 70s-influenced sound at Live at Ipanema back in March. They said tonight's show was only their 8th or 9th, so they were still working things out. They sounded terrific, though, and I think a big part of the crowd was there for them. I wanted to tsk-tsk the drummer, I'm afraid, when he admitted that he'd lived in RVA for three years and this was his first time in Gallery 5. Sorry, kids, I just can't get to everyone and tell them what to do, although clearly my efforts are sorely needed.
Last up was Autocue, they of the massive and expensive stage-filling equipment (last time I saw them at G5, their abundance of high-end gear blew out all the power in the place, not once, but twice). I'd already heard that they'd done an extremely long sound check, but the vocal was still too low in the mix, at least in my musically-challenged opinion. I ran into a guy who remembered talking to me at the last Autocue show (I'm ashamed to say that I didn't recognize him at all) and we enthusiastically compared notes on the first two bands before Autocue got started .
You might even say we had a passionate discussion. As has been duly noted of late, my passion does tend to show itself when I get to talking.
He was the only other bar sitter when I arrived and was busy doing something with his phone, so I didn't pay him any mind. Seeing me, he put it down and said, "I shouldn't be on my phone out on a Friday night." Given my phone feelings, that was an opening too wide for me not to jump in, so I did, eventually convincing him to bury the dreaded device under a menu and start enjoying Saturday eve.
Apparently I wasn't too overbearing because he soon began his incremental move around the bar to eventually sit next to me and pick my brain about what to do in Richmond. He's only been here since January, so his feelings about RVA are still mixed. As the bartender knowingly informed him, "You're talking to the right girl."
It's a bit challenging to just launch into what a newcomer should check out here without first getting some sense of his interests and dislikes. With a little probing, I discovered that he appreciates art, including local work and has already found a piece at Davis and Main that he plans to purchase. He'd also planned to visit the VMFA tomorrow, so I gave him my four-visit take on it.
As I made recommendations for what to see and do, I tucked into my fish tacos (grilled Mahi-Mahi, pepper jack cheese, corn relish, and guacamole with black beans), having ordered them because of a rave I'd recently heard. After having had my photographer friend over for a chatty happy hour earlier (Inama Soave Classico), I was in need of some grub to fill in the cracks and they seemed ideal for that purpose. Luckily, my transplant friend didn't seem to mind listening to a girl with guacamole dripping down her chin.
Because I was on a limited time budget (I wanted to make a show at Gallery 5 and, specifically, see the opener), I cut right to the chase and told him about my blog, suggesting he peruse it and let me know which activities I mentioned might be of interest to him and from there I would make further recommendations about what to see and do. He then graciously insisted on paying for my dinner and assured me that he'd be in touch about things to do. J-Ward girl strikes again!
The bill at Gallery 5 consisted of Long Division, Seas and Autocue, and I'd already seen the latter two, which is why I'd been determined to make it in time to see the first. Simply put, Long Division made my night. For the second time in one week, I got an excellent set of post-rock, full of swelling guitars, intricate interplay and the added pleasure of a trumpet in parts.
As much as I love a good lyric and I absolutely do, I am a complete sucker for post-rock. The band said that their influences were Sonic Youth and Radiohead, but, I'm telling you, I heard Explosions in the Sky and Yndi Halda. I can't wait for this Norfolk band to come back through town: I will insist on some of my music geek friends joining me to hear them.
Seas played next and I'd heard their 70s-influenced sound at Live at Ipanema back in March. They said tonight's show was only their 8th or 9th, so they were still working things out. They sounded terrific, though, and I think a big part of the crowd was there for them. I wanted to tsk-tsk the drummer, I'm afraid, when he admitted that he'd lived in RVA for three years and this was his first time in Gallery 5. Sorry, kids, I just can't get to everyone and tell them what to do, although clearly my efforts are sorely needed.
Last up was Autocue, they of the massive and expensive stage-filling equipment (last time I saw them at G5, their abundance of high-end gear blew out all the power in the place, not once, but twice). I'd already heard that they'd done an extremely long sound check, but the vocal was still too low in the mix, at least in my musically-challenged opinion. I ran into a guy who remembered talking to me at the last Autocue show (I'm ashamed to say that I didn't recognize him at all) and we enthusiastically compared notes on the first two bands before Autocue got started .
You might even say we had a passionate discussion. As has been duly noted of late, my passion does tend to show itself when I get to talking.
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