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.

Extending My Southern Hospitality

In the interest of being a good representative of my adopted city, I played tour guide tonight to an out-of-town visitor.

At issue was how much I could show a non-local on a dark, rainy night, hardly prime sightseeing time. Luckily I didn't have to work at it too hard because he'd already gotten a few recommendations from a local bartender about must-sees. I just had to fill in the cracks.

With that in mind, I figured the least I could do was start with our most scenic boulevard, Monument Avenue and try to wow him that way. He was impressed, more with the houses than the lesson in Civil War history, but that may have been owing to my less-than-detailed history lesson.

The first place he'd been told to experience was Mekong, no doubt due to his home-brewing habits. Or maybe just his love of good beer. An was behind the bar, so they discussed what he likes and An made his recommendations. Fortunately for a non-beer drinker like me, they had one decent tequila.

A beer and wine geek friend was also in attendance, which worked out well because I was able to provide the visitor with a kindred soul with whom to discuss such things. The funny part was when my friend suggested Capital Ale House at Innsbrook to the visitor as the place to go for the largest beer offerings.

Obviously the visitor didn't know me well enough to realize that I was already at the outer limits of the city as far as I'm concerned, making my friend laugh at even the thought that I might venture further west. Not happening.

But I'd already promised that I'd take him to Commercial Taphouse, which delivered on several levels. First and most importantly, they had cask ale, a fact which apparently couldn't delight a home brewer (or true beer geek) more.

He happily ordered some and I told him of my recent curiosity about experiencing it, here, and what guy can resist giving a girl a first experience? So I had my first cask ale and I'd have to say it was way more interesting than any beers I've tasted in the past. I should have known I could trust an art-lover for beer advice,

We were several hours in to our evening at this point and both hungry, so we decided to eat and here's the funny part. The visitor looked at the menu, looked at me and asked, "Do you eat ribs?" It was to laugh. Of course I eat ribs, but according to him, "Most girls don't." How's that for a blanket generalization?

So we got a half rack and the Ploughman's platter (which inexplicably now comes with leaves of romaine lettuce in addition to toast, which the visitor used to make ploughman wraps, giving him points for creativity, at least in my book). "Eat this," he directed so I did.

Earlier in the car we had furthered our music talk and one band he had specifically mentioned was the English post-punk band Killing Joke, with whom I was not familiar. In a truly odd coincidence, while in Commercial, they played a Killing Joke song off their 1980 debut album.

He was thrilled and I got a frame of reference for his description. Now what were the chances of such a thing happening?

Our final stop was my choice and what I had planned to do before getting a call from the help-a-visitor foundation. Julep was hosting a benefit for Tricycle Gardens and I wanted to do my part to support community gardening.

We arrived around 10:30 for the 8:30 event and it was packed with other do-gooders (okay, drinkers). I ran into a girlfriend I hadn't seen in a year and we caught up; she's still not dating, either.

Probably not your typical list of must-sees, but he sure seemed to enjoy them all. Or maybe it was the sparkling local company.

And that's my story and I'm sticking to it.

You Talking to Me?

It was an especially great day for random comments, good and odd, directed my way. Maybe it's time to change the sign on my forehead...or something.

"I should have known you'd be here. Are you in the Mekong Beer Club?"
-A local boutique owner on finding me at the bar with a laid off girlfriend wining and dining at Six Burner tonight. And the connection is...?

"You know you love it when that happens. Just like I love it when I open my mouth and surprise people."
- A friend who waited out a long-winded conversation to regain my attention. Yes and thanks for harshing my mellow.

"Every minute of every hour I spent on this project my heart ached for you. Every minute. Of every hour."
-An ex (from the 90s!) on transferring VHS tapes to DVD. Oh, come on.

"You're sure to be a twitter hit if you dare to go there."
-A friend and fellow music geek. Aw, shucks.

"It was your witty repartee that made it worth coming in."
-Customer leaving a coffee shop about our conversation. My kind of compliment.

"The thing about living in DC was, sometimes I couldn't remember where my house was. Did that ever happen to you ? "
-Local street legend Richard on the subject of living in Washington, my former hometown. Can't say that it did, Richard.

And so it goes...

Mekong Soothes the Unemployed Soul

I heard from yet another friend that she'd been laid off, joining the ever-growing group of us among the unemployed masses. She's the first of my friends in the restaurant business to bite the dust, though, so it was a bit more surprising. She's got an outstanding skill set, though, so I expect she'll have faster luck getting rehired than me. She's understandably nervous at the moment; I guess only time will tell.

We met up last night at Mekong to commiserate about the unfairness of life, the coldness of our former employers and other borderline whiny topics. But the complaining quickly gave way to appreciation for excellent beer and food; I won't bore you with all we ordered (there were six of us) but we had a great selection of beef, pork, chicken and tofu dishes and way too much food to finish. The beer, however, was a different story.

Because so many of the women in the group worked in restaurants, there was loads of gossip and storytelling, some new to me (Enoteca Sogno closing, for example), some confirming previously-held assumptions. Every single person at the table has a mate or close friend who has lost hours or even their job altogether. We all agreed that the absolute worst may be over, but it will take a while to climb out of this very deep recessionary hole we seem to be in.

Until then, luckily there's places like Mekong with big tables, plenty of libations and really good food to distract us from the problems of the real world. And then there's my fortune cookie prediction: If you have a job without aggravations, you don't have a job.

You could substitute a number of other words for "job" and the sentiment would be just as true.

Think Small...No, Smaller

This is America, so bigger is always better, right?

Not so, of course, as was beautifully demonstrated at tonight's Think Small Exhibition preview party at Art 6 and Artspace.

It was the 5th biennial international miniature invitational and while there were plenty of artists represented from RVA, there were also artists shown from Tuscon, Chicago, Budapest and places in between.

The works accepted could be no more than 3 inches in any direction, but that could mean 3 inches of sculpture, photography, painting and just about any other interpretation of form.

Tonight's preview party included a buffet prepared by some local favorites, including Mekong, Bistro 27 and Kuba, Kuba, among others.

Your ticket purchase also got you drinks at both galleries and there was a cushy motor coach (okay, bus) to transport participants from Broad Street to Manchester.

The event was a fundraiser for both galleries and undoubtedly desperately needed at a time when arts funding is almost non-existent.

But the primary benefit to attendees was the opportunity to purchase the art before the First Friday masses arrive tomorrow and purchase they did.

Many pieces earned a red sticker tonight, signifying that they'd been sold.

And while the art was small, the prices ranged from $35 to $400 to "Inquire," which usually means if you have to ask, you can't afford it.

But there was a great deal of interesting and affordable art to choose from out of the nearly 400 pieces on display.

The exhibit is a perfect opportunity for art lovers to acquire a piece (or two) worth enjoying every day.

And, beware,  if you don't go for it now, it'll be two more years before you have the opportunity to Think Small again.

Unless, of course, you'er thinking about something other than art.