Dancing Like It Was January 31st

It was the second time in four days that I attended an event originally scheduled for January and then cancelled due to snow.

It was the third r & b/funk band I've seen in five weeks.

It was the second time I've seen Of Montreal.

It was the first time I saw Noot d Noot.

But who's counting?

Tonight's Of Montreal show should have happened the night after the Richmond Symphony's "Simply Sinatra" evening should have happened.

And now here we are five months later getting our paybacks for the cancellations, resulting in a very busy week for those of us who were disappointed in January.

Openers Noot d Noot were an eight-piece psychedelic funk band carrying on in the grand tradition of Parliament Funkadelic (not that most of the audience would know the reference).

Guitars and bass wailed, multiple drummers played, two sassy singers danced, shimmied and harmonized and a keyboard player in shades and a chiffon scarf pulled it all together.

Depending on who you talked to, it was either funk redux or neo rhythm & blues; either way, it was highly danceable.

I may have heard it all before, but I'm just fine with a resurgence of the sound.

I serendipitously ended up next to a guy who had attended 90% of the shows I've seen at the National, including the last Of Montreal show in November 2008 (back before my life imploded).

We'd even been to a lot of the same Toad's Place shows so we could go even further back and compare notes on some of the early shows there.

I so enjoy that kind of happenstance.

We were both questioning how different the stage looked for this Of Montreal show than the last, which featured risers upon which the tableaux of costumed characters unfolded.

Tonight's arrangement was far simpler and we fretted about the potential of less spectacle (the lead singer has been known to come on stage wearing just a diaper and riding a horse. Now that's entertainment).

Not to worry, however.

The flamboyant Kevin Barnes still had his video screens, marionettes and costumed performers to act out during songs; they just weren't on drum risers for enhanced viewing.

Besides, my new friend and I agreed that many in the crowd were first-timers who wouldn't have known the difference anyway; the audience had a high proportion of underage attendees (the black X on each young hand a dead giveaway).

Oh sure, they danced along when Barnes sang, "I want a lover with soul power," even if they hadn't a clue what he was referring to.

Really, the entire evening turned out to be one big dance party, not that there's anything wrong with that.

Obtuse and morose lyrics couched in bouncy melodies and pop hooks have been the staples of great dance music since at least the '80s.

Now I'm viewing my memory reel in reverse
Scrolling back to feel your whether-than
Now I'm noting the limits of our parabola
To predict the points of thou-shalt-not-return

Do you remember our last summer as independents?
Do you remember?

Whatever it means, it was five months overdue, so we danced liked there was snow on the ground outside.

Of Stalkers, Boners and Missed Music

Unlike yesterday's peaceful quiet, my street has been alive with noise all day.

People are out walking and talking, scraping their cars and whirring their tires trying to escape the mounds of snow, so I finally gave in and joined them.

Cleaning off my car was a cinch, but removing the drifts of snow that all but covered the tires took a while (I used a rake, a surprisingly efficient tool for the job of shifting the powder).

I even drove around the block to ensure that I had an exit strategy for later.

And then I set off on foot to see what was up in J-Ward.

My favorite Whiskey Wednesday friend was smoking a cigarette on his porch so I recruited him to inspect the 'hood with me and he was more than willing.

We saw a car parked facing east on Clay (it's westbound), but with no tracks in or out, indicating it was parked pre-snowfall. Interesting choice and for no apparent reason that we could think of.

We noted the absence of snowmen, probably due to the dryness of the snow.

In lieu of being able to pack the snow into recognizable forms, the artistic among us seem to have resorted to writing words on the snow canvas of cars.

We saw "VCU," "peace" and a heart written out on different vehicles, but my favorite would have to be the one that said "boner."

Now I'm just guessing here, but I'd be willing to bet that it was someone with a Y chromosome who was thus inspired (or maybe just over-sharing).

Two well-dressed men came out of their house as we passed, snow shovels in hand.

The one proudly pointed out to the other that he had cleared off both their cars; their intention now was to move the mounds of snow that were blocking them in.

Unlike me and my girly rake tool, they had manly snow shovels.

The one in loafers (you know, the perfect shoe for snow removal) inserted his shovel into a mound, where the scoop promptly snapped off from the handle.

The other guy burst out laughing at him, causing loafer boy to slink inside.

My friend and I walked on before making proper fun of them.

My friend peeled off when we got back around to his block and I kept going the block and a half home.

There was a guy smoking a cigarette and shoveling a walk at the corner house, who said hello to me in an eastern European accent.

"I haven't seen you on your walk every day lately. Like 9-10:00, right? I see you all the time. Where have you been?"

I've never seen this guy before and I have no idea who he is or that he knows about my daily walk.

Creepy or complimentary? You be the judge.

And now I come home to find that the Of Montreal show at the National tonight has been postponed.

Damn, I was hoping for some over-the-top musical spectacle tonight to cap off the snowy weekend.

I saw them in November 2008 and they were great fun.

Now I'll have to find another way to amuse myself.

Bet I can.