It's a little after 8 and I can hear the band sound-checking as I approach the bakery.
Inside Sub Rosa, I score a stool from the dwindling number still unoccupied and say hello to the southern-drawling Bijou champion, who lets me in on two fabulous upcoming movie events, one classic, one unreleased.
After sharing my enthusiasm for both events, I leave him when I spot pastries on the nearby counter. It's been a fabulous but long day and I haven't yet had dinner.
From a selection of delectable looking breads, knots and croissants, I choose a fat salami and Gruyere croissant, placed artfully on a stoneware plate by owner Evrim. I can tell by its buttery sheen that multiple napkins are in order.
Standing there as he prepares my plate, I overhear a woman talking about her trip to St. Martin's and its nude beach. When I think I hear her talking about a man on the beach with not just braided pubic hair, but beads braided into his pubic hair, I can't help but insert myself into the conversation.
The visual is unsettling. "It's so disturbing, I hesitated to say it aloud," she apologizes. "How much do you have to pay someone to spend that much time doing that to your, um, pubes?"
As much as they'll pay, I would imagine.
Sticking a needle in my mind's eye and returning to my stool, my fingers got shiny and my belly progressively happier as I ate the savory roll. I got a look of surprise and delight from the singer of Turkish songs when she walked in and an inquiry from the recently arrived film professor of, "What's in that?" as he pointed to my croissant. Apparently, the pleasure I was taking in my dinner wasn't lost on him.
I love being an inspiration to other eaters.
Sub Rosa isn't a big place and it continued to fill up, even after the Paul Watson Quintet - Paul on cornet trumpet, Steve on guitar, Tadd on double bass and Pippin ("The man I call Mr. Essential," Paul said) on drums - began knocking the crowd's socks off with their talent.
From inside, I saw my favorite jeweler/Viet Nam vet (tonight wearing a cowboy hat) at the front door, and he was waved around, entering through the back door. He wasn't the only one.
As talented as Paul is on horn, he's also got a terrific baritone voice and used it often tonight as he showcased material off his latest album.
After all these years
and 10,000 beers
Tell me, what do you see?
It was while the band was rocking out to "These Words" that I realized that the bakery was a gorgeous place for this show, with the sun setting behind us and the soft yellow glow of lights along the wall illuminating a crowd sitting on chairs, stools, the floor and standing. One guy even perched on the counter.
Just as I was noticing all this, Paul must have been, too, saying, "This is a timely song," and began singing, "When that evening sun goes down, that's the time I love the best," a slow and sweet song.
Massive applause followed an instrumental piece featuring Paul on cornet, and he took the moment to announce, "I want to remind you about our little merch display. It only represents 40 years, that's all. They say the best things in life are free, but they're really $19.95."
Paul's longevity in the business is well-known. Just last weekend, I'd seen a film from the early '80s that he'd voiced, his distinctive baritone a pleasure to listen to.
Behind me were two guys visiting from D.C. and it took me no time to find out they lived in Dupont Circle (R and Connecticut), my old neighborhood (21 and N). Turns out they'd come down for scuba diving lessons in Petersburg (I didn't ask) and to see this show. They already have plans to come back in August.
That's how far some people come for a Paul Watson show. No surprise there.
The band's finale was a Mark Linkous song, "All Night Home," a nod to his recordings with Sparklehorse. The crowd listened reverently before he ended the evening by introducing the band.
But the full house was having none of it, demanding "One more!" until the band obliged with a song that included the evocative lyric, "How the youthful harlots curse..." Don't they, though?
With the show now officially over, bakery owner Evrim took the mic, saying what a magical evening it had been. As he'd told us, they only do occasional shows for very special performers, which is why I try not to miss them.
"Feel free to relax for a while," Evrim said. "A while, like three minutes. Then the bakers have to go to bed."
And while I'm not a baker, I had bed in my sights, too. It's exhausting having as much fresh air and fun as I've had the past two days.
When's the last time I said that?
Showing posts with label paul watson. Show all posts
Showing posts with label paul watson. Show all posts
Friday, July 24, 2015
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
4-H Club: Hip, Horns & Happy Hour
Imagine having an exquisite experience and then months later seeing it captured on film.
That was my pleasure tonight at the Anderson Gallery's Happy Hour, "Now Showing: Jonathan Vassar and the Speckled Bird with filmmaker Jonathan Dodd."
I met a friend in the garden for beer and wine (oh-so reasonably priced at $2 and $3, respectively) and life advice before the performance began. And what a performance it was!
Dodd's new film "Travelogue" had been shot last year and featured various winter pastimes, including sled hockey, a sport I hadn't even known existed.
It used footage from his leisurely trip out West. And, most evocatively for me, he included film from the JV & SB performance last October done as a tribute to the departing chimney swifts in Monroe Ward, described here.
As the travelogue unfolded, the band, with the superb addition of Paul Watson on horns, played a soundtrack that took the film to a whole different level, a sentiment echoed by Dodd after the film finished.
It was truly moving. Accordions, guitars, clarinet, xylophone, horns, Jonathan's deep voice and Antonia's soaring vocals made for a soundtrack of breathtaking beauty.
After the sublime experience of having watched the chimney swifts float, fly and descend last Fall, it seemed like a gift to see it all again on film.
And Dodd, being a 21st-century photographer, shot in 35 mm, 16 mm and Super 8, making for a fascinating range of moving images.
It was my friend's first time at an Anderson Gallery happy hour and as we walked out, she was fumbling for words to express how impressed she'd been with what she'd just experienced.
But her sense of humor always comes through in the end.
"I kept thinking someone was going to come in and tell me to leave because I'm not hip enough," she said nonsensically.
But you don't have to be hip to enjoy the beauty of local film and music on a sultry summer evening.
You just have to have eyes and ears and be there.
Or, as Woody Allen put it, "Showing up is eighty percent of life."
Personally, I'm shooting for a perfect score.
That was my pleasure tonight at the Anderson Gallery's Happy Hour, "Now Showing: Jonathan Vassar and the Speckled Bird with filmmaker Jonathan Dodd."
I met a friend in the garden for beer and wine (oh-so reasonably priced at $2 and $3, respectively) and life advice before the performance began. And what a performance it was!
Dodd's new film "Travelogue" had been shot last year and featured various winter pastimes, including sled hockey, a sport I hadn't even known existed.
It used footage from his leisurely trip out West. And, most evocatively for me, he included film from the JV & SB performance last October done as a tribute to the departing chimney swifts in Monroe Ward, described here.
As the travelogue unfolded, the band, with the superb addition of Paul Watson on horns, played a soundtrack that took the film to a whole different level, a sentiment echoed by Dodd after the film finished.
It was truly moving. Accordions, guitars, clarinet, xylophone, horns, Jonathan's deep voice and Antonia's soaring vocals made for a soundtrack of breathtaking beauty.
After the sublime experience of having watched the chimney swifts float, fly and descend last Fall, it seemed like a gift to see it all again on film.
And Dodd, being a 21st-century photographer, shot in 35 mm, 16 mm and Super 8, making for a fascinating range of moving images.
It was my friend's first time at an Anderson Gallery happy hour and as we walked out, she was fumbling for words to express how impressed she'd been with what she'd just experienced.
But her sense of humor always comes through in the end.
"I kept thinking someone was going to come in and tell me to leave because I'm not hip enough," she said nonsensically.
But you don't have to be hip to enjoy the beauty of local film and music on a sultry summer evening.
You just have to have eyes and ears and be there.
Or, as Woody Allen put it, "Showing up is eighty percent of life."
Personally, I'm shooting for a perfect score.
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
Starting Greek at Basilis, Ending Satisfied at the Listening Room
I got props from three different guys tonight and that's a damn fine showing for a Tuesday night, if I do say so myself.
I've said before that I blog for compliments, but sometimes the payoff isn't immediate, which only makes the eventual nod all the more satisfying.
Almost a month ago, a friend read yet another of my Listening Room posts and asked if he could go with me to the next one and naturally I agreed.
Another friend had also been swayed by my rave reviews of the experience and was planning to come.
Friend #1 and I began in Carytown to check out the new Greek restaurant, Basilis, for dinner.
The place is not elaborate, but that's part of its charm along with a menu that'll remind you of the Greek festival.
When we got there, they were down to their last order of one of the two specials, the Mahi-Mahi Souvlakia and it had my name on it.
My friend ordered the moussaka and we shared a spanikopita and a tiropita, craving that buttery, flaky goodness.
My stick o' fish was perfectly cooked and, with the green beans in tomatoes and pita, a practically perfect meal (it came with white rice, too).
My friend enjoyed his moussaka so much we had to sit around for 45 minutes before he had room for dessert, which we chose from the dessert case.
It was the fruit tart, but let me explain Basilis version; it was ladyfingers with whipped chocolate cream (like a light chocolate mousse) and a thin layer of tiny pieces of fruit in the center.
It was light and not in the least guilt-inducing, but not much like any fruit tart you might know.
Before we left, I went to the ladies' room, which turned out to be a lengthy process because of how I'd dressed for the evening.
In order to do what I needed to do, I had to unbutton first a jacket and then a sweater and then unzip my dress, because it had a split skirt I couldn't just pull up, and then remove two pairs of tights, black and magenta.
I felt like I was in there for days.
I tell you this only because I'm renowned for my fast bathroom visits, so I felt I had to tell my friend why when I came out of the loo as an explanation for my extended absence.
As I'm telling him, the guy behind the counter walks by us and says to me, "You're so cute," and walks into the kitchen.
Random.
Yet another example of a totally random comment from a stranger directed at me.
But it was nice, so I'll take it.
And then there was the Listening Room, with coffee from Apropos Roasters and coffee cake from Garnett's. We found seats and the music began with Paul Watson, a trumpeter I've seen on multiple occasions.
Tonight he had a guitarist with him and he played trumpet on some songs and sang on others.
At one point, Jonathan Vassar joined him on stage and the two of them puffed up their cheeks and made mock trumpet noises for part of the song, an impressive thing to watch.
By song #3, my companion turned to me and mouthed the word, "AMAZING," with a big grin, followed by a silent, "thank you."
Paul mentioned being tired of playing in bars where people are more interested in partying than listening to the music.
" But that's just me," he rationalized.
No, Paul, it's me and lots of other people, too.
After the first intermission, one of the organizers, Chris Edwards, announced the beginning of the second group's set by teasing his co-organizer.
"Jonathan Vassar, less talking, more sitting."
Can you tell that Chris usually works with children?
Hezekiah Jones, a four-piece from Philly consisting of guitar, lap steel, bass and violin with two members singing, captured the audience with a beautiful folky sound and compelling lyrics.
"This is called 'Cupcakes for the Army," lead singer Raphael said, "and it's about baking."
Or war, but we got his drift.
A couple of songs were written during the three blizzards this past winter and the resulting time stuck inside.
Midway through their set, my other friend, sitting in front of me, turned and mouthed, "WOW!" (Oh, I know.)
Last up was Chris Kasper and for most of his set, all but Raphael of H.J. joined him on stage, adding another dimension to his voice and acoustic guitar.
Chris mentioned how lucky he felt to find people he could stand on stage who could also play their instruments; this is apparently key to a good musical relationship.
They did a song of theirs currently getting a bit of airplay in Philly and acknowledged the thrill of it.
Favorite lyric:"Find me when I'm a bit older...and my tongue a bit bolder." (Oh, is that how I got this way?)
Both the friends who attended for the first time tonight came because they'd read my last four posts about this event and I'd somehow convinced them that they just had to experience the audio pleasure that is the Listening Room.
Sure, I could say I told (wrote) them so, but the real satisfaction is in having turned them on to one of RVA's hidden treasures.
It's all part of my top secret movement to convince the music-going public that the best way to enjoy a show is with their lips sealed and their ears wide open.
But I did tell them so.
I've said before that I blog for compliments, but sometimes the payoff isn't immediate, which only makes the eventual nod all the more satisfying.
Almost a month ago, a friend read yet another of my Listening Room posts and asked if he could go with me to the next one and naturally I agreed.
Another friend had also been swayed by my rave reviews of the experience and was planning to come.
Friend #1 and I began in Carytown to check out the new Greek restaurant, Basilis, for dinner.
The place is not elaborate, but that's part of its charm along with a menu that'll remind you of the Greek festival.
When we got there, they were down to their last order of one of the two specials, the Mahi-Mahi Souvlakia and it had my name on it.
My friend ordered the moussaka and we shared a spanikopita and a tiropita, craving that buttery, flaky goodness.
My stick o' fish was perfectly cooked and, with the green beans in tomatoes and pita, a practically perfect meal (it came with white rice, too).
My friend enjoyed his moussaka so much we had to sit around for 45 minutes before he had room for dessert, which we chose from the dessert case.
It was the fruit tart, but let me explain Basilis version; it was ladyfingers with whipped chocolate cream (like a light chocolate mousse) and a thin layer of tiny pieces of fruit in the center.
It was light and not in the least guilt-inducing, but not much like any fruit tart you might know.
Before we left, I went to the ladies' room, which turned out to be a lengthy process because of how I'd dressed for the evening.
In order to do what I needed to do, I had to unbutton first a jacket and then a sweater and then unzip my dress, because it had a split skirt I couldn't just pull up, and then remove two pairs of tights, black and magenta.
I felt like I was in there for days.
I tell you this only because I'm renowned for my fast bathroom visits, so I felt I had to tell my friend why when I came out of the loo as an explanation for my extended absence.
As I'm telling him, the guy behind the counter walks by us and says to me, "You're so cute," and walks into the kitchen.
Random.
Yet another example of a totally random comment from a stranger directed at me.
But it was nice, so I'll take it.
And then there was the Listening Room, with coffee from Apropos Roasters and coffee cake from Garnett's. We found seats and the music began with Paul Watson, a trumpeter I've seen on multiple occasions.
Tonight he had a guitarist with him and he played trumpet on some songs and sang on others.
At one point, Jonathan Vassar joined him on stage and the two of them puffed up their cheeks and made mock trumpet noises for part of the song, an impressive thing to watch.
By song #3, my companion turned to me and mouthed the word, "AMAZING," with a big grin, followed by a silent, "thank you."
Paul mentioned being tired of playing in bars where people are more interested in partying than listening to the music.
" But that's just me," he rationalized.
No, Paul, it's me and lots of other people, too.
After the first intermission, one of the organizers, Chris Edwards, announced the beginning of the second group's set by teasing his co-organizer.
"Jonathan Vassar, less talking, more sitting."
Can you tell that Chris usually works with children?
Hezekiah Jones, a four-piece from Philly consisting of guitar, lap steel, bass and violin with two members singing, captured the audience with a beautiful folky sound and compelling lyrics.
"This is called 'Cupcakes for the Army," lead singer Raphael said, "and it's about baking."
Or war, but we got his drift.
A couple of songs were written during the three blizzards this past winter and the resulting time stuck inside.
Midway through their set, my other friend, sitting in front of me, turned and mouthed, "WOW!" (Oh, I know.)
Last up was Chris Kasper and for most of his set, all but Raphael of H.J. joined him on stage, adding another dimension to his voice and acoustic guitar.
Chris mentioned how lucky he felt to find people he could stand on stage who could also play their instruments; this is apparently key to a good musical relationship.
They did a song of theirs currently getting a bit of airplay in Philly and acknowledged the thrill of it.
Favorite lyric:"Find me when I'm a bit older...and my tongue a bit bolder." (Oh, is that how I got this way?)
Both the friends who attended for the first time tonight came because they'd read my last four posts about this event and I'd somehow convinced them that they just had to experience the audio pleasure that is the Listening Room.
Sure, I could say I told (wrote) them so, but the real satisfaction is in having turned them on to one of RVA's hidden treasures.
It's all part of my top secret movement to convince the music-going public that the best way to enjoy a show is with their lips sealed and their ears wide open.
But I did tell them so.
Saturday, September 19, 2009
All Folked Up
What's the proper lead-up to a superb evening of folk music? Hell if I know, so here's how I went about it.
I went to the wine tasting at River City Cellars, as I so often do, with the usual result that I saw some people I knew and met a few new ones. They were pouring a selection of Louis/Dressner wines, mostly organic/biodynamic, low yield, hand harvested and sustainably raised. I ended up buying the Famille Peillot 2007 Bugey Pinot Noir from eastern France (owner Julia instructed me to decant it for a good while to fully enjoy it and I defer to her greater wine knowledge).
I've got a refrigerator full of white wine but with the cooler nights, I've been wanting something heartier to share with friends before an evening out. The tasting ended with one of my new acquaintances, Jason, telling me a particularly ribald joke; don't you love it when people can gauge how far they can go with you within moments of meeting?
Then there are the people who latch onto you despite there being no particular interest or connection on your part, as was the case for me at dinner last night at 27. The couple who sat down next to me at the bar mercifully arrived after I'd eaten and was just finishing my wine and proceeded to tell me way more about themselves than I cared to hear, even cajoling me to join them for a cigarette outside so we could continue our chat (I don't smoke, btw).
But the veal and mascarpone ravioli in sage butter sauce was divine, so I guess it was all some sort of cosmic trade off.
Lastly, I headed to Gallery 5 for the folk extravaganza of Paul Watson/Low Branches/Nick Coward/Vandaveer/Jonathan Vasser and the Speckled Bird show. I've seen Paul Watson, Jonathan Vasser and Low Branches before, so I already knew how terrifically talented they all were and I'd heard great things about Vandaveer.
This folk duet from DC was everything I'd read about them and more, with two beautiful voices, a guitar and some reverb. As the female half, Rose's voice was magnificent as a counterpoint to main guy Mark. He explained away her coughing, "Rose got the consumption in Burlington. You should hear her when she isn't coughing."
It was tough to imagine her voice sounding any more ethereal than it did. The audience kept telling them to move to rva; no doubt they'd be a stellar addition to our folk scene. Nick Coward's seven-piece ensemble was also wonderful: the back and forth of voices and all that instrumentation, soft and loud, was beautiful ear candy.
Walking home, the neighborhood was hopping; I got invited to two parties in full swing within a half a block of home.
All in all, I'd have to say it was a fine night.
I went to the wine tasting at River City Cellars, as I so often do, with the usual result that I saw some people I knew and met a few new ones. They were pouring a selection of Louis/Dressner wines, mostly organic/biodynamic, low yield, hand harvested and sustainably raised. I ended up buying the Famille Peillot 2007 Bugey Pinot Noir from eastern France (owner Julia instructed me to decant it for a good while to fully enjoy it and I defer to her greater wine knowledge).
I've got a refrigerator full of white wine but with the cooler nights, I've been wanting something heartier to share with friends before an evening out. The tasting ended with one of my new acquaintances, Jason, telling me a particularly ribald joke; don't you love it when people can gauge how far they can go with you within moments of meeting?
Then there are the people who latch onto you despite there being no particular interest or connection on your part, as was the case for me at dinner last night at 27. The couple who sat down next to me at the bar mercifully arrived after I'd eaten and was just finishing my wine and proceeded to tell me way more about themselves than I cared to hear, even cajoling me to join them for a cigarette outside so we could continue our chat (I don't smoke, btw).
But the veal and mascarpone ravioli in sage butter sauce was divine, so I guess it was all some sort of cosmic trade off.
Lastly, I headed to Gallery 5 for the folk extravaganza of Paul Watson/Low Branches/Nick Coward/Vandaveer/Jonathan Vasser and the Speckled Bird show. I've seen Paul Watson, Jonathan Vasser and Low Branches before, so I already knew how terrifically talented they all were and I'd heard great things about Vandaveer.
This folk duet from DC was everything I'd read about them and more, with two beautiful voices, a guitar and some reverb. As the female half, Rose's voice was magnificent as a counterpoint to main guy Mark. He explained away her coughing, "Rose got the consumption in Burlington. You should hear her when she isn't coughing."
It was tough to imagine her voice sounding any more ethereal than it did. The audience kept telling them to move to rva; no doubt they'd be a stellar addition to our folk scene. Nick Coward's seven-piece ensemble was also wonderful: the back and forth of voices and all that instrumentation, soft and loud, was beautiful ear candy.
Walking home, the neighborhood was hopping; I got invited to two parties in full swing within a half a block of home.
All in all, I'd have to say it was a fine night.
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