What a difference a day makes, or 24 little hours of music all over the map.
Yesterday at 5:30, it was funksters Morris Day and the Time at the 2 Street Festival and today at 5:30, it was garage band Jacuzzi Boys at Steady Sounds.
Both were mere blocks away, making them irresistibly convenient ways to start my evenings.
Today, 30 or so of us gathered at my neighborhood record store to hear the Florida group bang through a half dozen songs as a prelude to tonight's show at Strange Matter.
One attendee spent the entire show with his fingers in his ears, but most people just rocked in place to the most basic of songs on a sunny late October afternoon.
Walking home, I could hear music still coming from the 2 Street Festival a few blocks down, so I took today's Washington Post out to my balcony to enjoy to the final strains of music on Clay Street.
Once it got fully dark, I came inside and made the simplest of suppers - an omelet from eggs I'd gathered at a farm recently - before getting ready to go out for more music and dessert.
Tonight was Live at Ipanema with Psalmships and Valdosta, singer/songwriter David Shultz's new project.
I found the front door to the restaurant propped open and a cute friend already warming up her bar stool when I arrived.
That was my cue to begin contemplating the dessert choices, eventually choosing blueberry pie a la mode.
About then, another friend came in and joined me, posing today's Southern Foodways Alliance topic for discussion: cake or pie?
"Team cobbler!" cute friend piped up cleverly before I could say a word.
After careful consideration, I stated for the record that if I could only have one or the other for the rest of my life, I'd have to pick cake.
I then proceeded to share my pie with the cute one until the show started.
Psalmships is Joshua from Philly and I'd seen him before at the Listening Room and at Sponge HQ.
What I recalled was his distinctive four-string guitar playing and raw, emotive voice and, like the prior times, his band had not made the trip with him.
What was annoying tonight was a gaggle of people at the end of the bar talking and laughing throughout his set, insulting the man's efforts to be heard.
Friend and I considered shushing them and settled for sending them withering looks which they were too busy talking to notice.
Excuse me, children, but this performance is being recorded and no one will want to hear your hyena laughs on the recording.
After a set of keening songs, Josh joked, "This will be my last song. I hope I brought you guys up."
He hadn't but that isn't really what Psalmships is about, rather it's that life can be cruel and you deal with it and move on.
After the break during which a lot more people arrived, David Shultz's new project settled into the tiny performing space.
Photographer PJ was kind enough to adjust one of the stage lights so it wasn't blinding me and we were ready to start.
Valdosta, the trio of David on guitar and vocals, Michael on bass and Willis on drums, was notable for how very un-Richmond-like they looked.
Despite how ingrained the three of them are in the RVA music scene, there was nary a beard to be seen.
It was clear from the first song that this new configuration has spent considerable time practicing together.
David's vocals, always a pleasure to hear, were easy and natural and it took him only until he sang "Bug Spray" to remove his glasses and set them aside.
This was about sound, not seeing.
"This is an old song called "The Room," David said. "It's from my very first album I ever made, back when I used to be David Shultz."
Ah, I remember those days.
I've long been a fan of Willis' stellar drumming and percussion skills and he and Michael provided strong support for David's song stories.
It was amazing how tight they sounded given that this was their first show out.
"The best thing that could happen when you have a new band is that all these people show up to hear it," David said. "Thank you."
Truly, the thanks should have been directed at the band and at the Live at Ipanema crew who keep delivering superb musical evenings to us.
In fact, I predict that as this project grows and if they add in more people, those of us lucky enough to have heard them tonight as a trio will always have the best of memories of what a special moment it was hearing them on an unseasonably warm Fall night.
You know, after hearing a band last night and another this afternoon, some people would have blown off yet another show tonight.
I can understand that, but they would have missed hearing the start of something extraordinary.
And blueberry pie.
Showing posts with label psalmships. Show all posts
Showing posts with label psalmships. Show all posts
Monday, October 7, 2013
Friday, October 28, 2011
This Must Be the Place
As much as I enjoy seeing an intimate show, a part of me always wishes that more people were there.
Such was the case tonight at Sponge HQ in the Anderson Gallery for the Small Houses CD Release show.
A lack of attention had me there when the doors opened instead of closer to music time, but it worked out well anyway.
I ran into a friend who wanted to go across the street to Cous Cous for take out so I joined her for a drink.
Her Campari and soda seemed much more sophisticated than my Malbec, but I needed something to thicken my blood after Old Man Winter arrived unexpectedly today.
How is it I was wearing shorts and a T-shirt yesterday and it was sleeting today?
But never mind. If I understood science, I wouldn't be a writer.
We fell into a terrific discussion of our memories of elementary school, mine of singing folk music and hers of learning about people like Stephen Foster.
We agreed it was unlikely that children get any exposure to either in these days of SOLs and what a pity that is.
Returning to Sponge for the show, I put out a batch of oatmeal chocolate chip cookies I'd made for the attendees.
No, I don't usually bake for shows, but Sponge shows are always so intimate and it seems like both musicians and music lovers are always hungry.
The three members of Michigan's Small Houses were performing on a raised platform that barely contained them.
Actually, last time I'd seen them, it had been just the singer Jeremy and I'd been blown away. Tonight he had keyboards and backing vocals for a much lusher sound.
Introducing "Tired in 20 Cities," he said, "Which we are now, but that's okay because this is what we want to do."
They played several songs from their new CD and mentioned it was for sale.
"All the money we make selling CDs goes into the Waffle House fund. They're so awesome! We don't have them in Michigan. We went twice in one day!"
Jeremy took a moment to tune before their final song and keyboard player Adam noted, "The guy gets one Nick Drake album and now all his tunes are weird tunings."
"I have three," Jeremy corrected him with a grin before launching into a song from the new CD.
After a break to mill about and admire the beehive, the aquarium and see what everyone is doing for the rest of the weekend, Psalmships took the stage.
Psalmships is Joshua from Philly and I had also seen him before at the Listening Room; I recalled his distinctive four-string guitar playing and emotive voice.
After playing a few songs, he invited keyboard player Adam up to join him, clarifying that they'd never played together before.
"I don't know Adam from Adam," he joked.
But with direction ("A minor, G, A minor") from Joshua before each song, Adam complemented his songs beautifully.
It became clear from those instructions that it was mostly minor chords, so I leaned over to a musician friend and asked a dumb non-musician question.
"Minor chords because he sings sad songs, right?"
"Dark," she clarified for me. she whose favorite bands make her cry. She knows from dark.
In fact, she and I were the only females at the show. When I mentioned it to my seatmate, he said, "Guys are dumb. Guys forget things."
Too bad for guys. They missed a couple of excellent touring bands and homemade cookies.
All except for the smart ones and they're the only ones who matter anyhow.
Such was the case tonight at Sponge HQ in the Anderson Gallery for the Small Houses CD Release show.
A lack of attention had me there when the doors opened instead of closer to music time, but it worked out well anyway.
I ran into a friend who wanted to go across the street to Cous Cous for take out so I joined her for a drink.
Her Campari and soda seemed much more sophisticated than my Malbec, but I needed something to thicken my blood after Old Man Winter arrived unexpectedly today.
How is it I was wearing shorts and a T-shirt yesterday and it was sleeting today?
But never mind. If I understood science, I wouldn't be a writer.
We fell into a terrific discussion of our memories of elementary school, mine of singing folk music and hers of learning about people like Stephen Foster.
We agreed it was unlikely that children get any exposure to either in these days of SOLs and what a pity that is.
Returning to Sponge for the show, I put out a batch of oatmeal chocolate chip cookies I'd made for the attendees.
No, I don't usually bake for shows, but Sponge shows are always so intimate and it seems like both musicians and music lovers are always hungry.
The three members of Michigan's Small Houses were performing on a raised platform that barely contained them.
Actually, last time I'd seen them, it had been just the singer Jeremy and I'd been blown away. Tonight he had keyboards and backing vocals for a much lusher sound.
Introducing "Tired in 20 Cities," he said, "Which we are now, but that's okay because this is what we want to do."
They played several songs from their new CD and mentioned it was for sale.
"All the money we make selling CDs goes into the Waffle House fund. They're so awesome! We don't have them in Michigan. We went twice in one day!"
Jeremy took a moment to tune before their final song and keyboard player Adam noted, "The guy gets one Nick Drake album and now all his tunes are weird tunings."
"I have three," Jeremy corrected him with a grin before launching into a song from the new CD.
After a break to mill about and admire the beehive, the aquarium and see what everyone is doing for the rest of the weekend, Psalmships took the stage.
Psalmships is Joshua from Philly and I had also seen him before at the Listening Room; I recalled his distinctive four-string guitar playing and emotive voice.
After playing a few songs, he invited keyboard player Adam up to join him, clarifying that they'd never played together before.
"I don't know Adam from Adam," he joked.
But with direction ("A minor, G, A minor") from Joshua before each song, Adam complemented his songs beautifully.
It became clear from those instructions that it was mostly minor chords, so I leaned over to a musician friend and asked a dumb non-musician question.
"Minor chords because he sings sad songs, right?"
"Dark," she clarified for me. she whose favorite bands make her cry. She knows from dark.
In fact, she and I were the only females at the show. When I mentioned it to my seatmate, he said, "Guys are dumb. Guys forget things."
Too bad for guys. They missed a couple of excellent touring bands and homemade cookies.
All except for the smart ones and they're the only ones who matter anyhow.
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
Jewish Anniversary Sex
Eat Jewish food
Sleep in a Christian bed
Wear Muslim clothing
That was only one of the many lessons I learned at the Encyclopedia of Jewish Food dinner that I attended at the JCC tonight, but then I had a lot to learn on the topic, being an Irish (lapsed) Catholic and all.
And no, for change, I wasn't solo; my date was one of my blog readers who'd contacted me and suggested that we meet up and enjoy the dinner and lecture together. Write a blog! Meet new people!
Between the charming company, trying new foods and (because I am a nerd) the interesting stuff I learned in the lecture/cooking demonstration, I had a terrific time.
Dinner began with the Romanian vegetable stew Guvetch and, given the Romanian propensity to put garlic in everything, I loved this dish. The woman on the other side of me picked out her cooked carrots (she only likes them raw) and I so wanted to fish them out of her bowland eat them, but thought better of it.
As we were eating the stew, author Gil Marks began a demonstration of making Keftes (Sepahardic leek patties), telling the audience that "the best implement in the kitchen is the human hand." My Southern grandmother would have agreed with him.
Next up was Fesenjan (Persian chicken with pomegranates and walnuts), fidellos tostados (Sepahardic toasted noodles) and the Keftes de Prasa that Marks had just shown us how to make. I was particularly fond of the onion, pomegranate and walnut mixture in the chicken's broth.
My non-Jewishness became glaringly apparent when the event's photographer came around to take a picture of our table. Someone suggested we have it taken bar mitzvah-style and still I sat in my seat.
Only when told did I understand that I needed to get up and stand behind the people on the other side of the table. Let's hope the picture doesn't reveal my cluelessness.
As we were nibbling Middle Eastern filled cookies (the iced anise was delicious), Marks went on to talk about the Americanization of Jewish food.
Once Jews began making some of their foodstuffs for sale, their best customers, he said, were the pioneers headed west and looking for well-preserved, long-lasting foods. Matzohs in covered wagons; who knew?
I had warned my date that I had a commitment immediately after the dinner lecture, so I said my goodbye and headed to the Listening Room's one-year anniversary performance. As one of the 95 people who came to the very first LR show, I was not going to miss tonight's music.
The LR is put on by the Foundry, a collective of musicians and artists who make it all happen every month. Appropriately, three members of that group were also tonight's first band, Jonathan Vassar and the Speckled Bird.
Despite having seen them perform many, many times over the past three years, tonight's show was something special. It came across as especially emotional and even songs I've heard before had been fine-tuned and seemed to hold fresh nuances.
And oh yes, Antonia did her legendary vox saw and even husband Jonathan acknowledged that he has no idea how she makes that amazing sound ("I tried once in the shower and it sounded like a dying rabbit.")
Favorite lyric: Think of me. I know that you know who I am.
Psalmships from Philly was next and singer/songwriter Josh told us that his band hadn't been able to make it. It didn't matter; his four-string guitar playing and distinctive voice delivered a noteworthy set.
He praised RVA, saying, "I don't really know what's going on in Richmond, but if Jonathan Vassar and Horsehead are any indication, you need to block the gates." I loved hearing that an out-of-towner recognized what a great scene we have here.
Favorite lyric: You can't get here fast enough. I will swim to you."
Horsehead played last and I had seen them do an acoustic set at Six Burner a while back, although they acknowledged that they're an electric band. They were very polished, very tight musically and the crowd really liked them.
They deviated from their set list only once, to play a new song about stalking...told from the stalker's perspective. "Hate me if you will," the lead singer said admitting that it was the first such song he knew of. He's undoubtedly right about that, but the audience found humor in the song.
Lead guitarist Kevin was a pleasure to watch from my front row seat; his talented musicianship and beautiful harmonies were the set's highlight for me.
I might add that both he and the bass player had a dimple, a surprisingly high dimple ratio for a four-piece band (I notice this kind of thing only because I have dimples myself).
Tonight's show ran unusually long for the Listening Room (not that anyone was complaining, mind you), but not so late that I couldn't head over to Republic afterwards with a couple of friends for a show about sex.
The inimitable Prabir Mehta was playing a show all about sex with his partner in crime (and symphony violinist) Treesa Gold. There were booty bags and condoms being handed out. And why was I there?
Not because I like Republic cause I don't (Andrew and I went one time and permanently crossed it off our list). Everyone in the place smokes, so we reeked after being in there for a relatively short time. And the crowd is, well, the crowd wouldn't like me.
But Prabir and Treesa are friends and talented musicians and I was curious to see what kind of hilarity would ensue. Would they even be able to keep straight faces?
It was totally worth it. Treesa rapped (yes, really) and as Prabir's brother noted, "That's the whitest thing I ever heard in my life." Her husband cringed and fortified himself with many Bass Ales (he also shot video, it should be noted).
When the smoke and annoying people finally got to us, we left, but just as we stepped outside, I heard the first few notes of the Divinyls' masterfully metaphoric "I Touch Myself." There was no way I could walk away from that.
On the side of the building, I slowly opened the door that faces the stage so we had our own private viewing area. The three of us watched as Prabir and Treesa tore it up.
At the end, Prabir glanced over at us with a look of pure sheepishness. Treesa beamed.
Keftes with a reader, four-string guitars and dimples, booty bags and self-pleasuring. This may have been a Tuesday night for the books.
Sleep in a Christian bed
Wear Muslim clothing
That was only one of the many lessons I learned at the Encyclopedia of Jewish Food dinner that I attended at the JCC tonight, but then I had a lot to learn on the topic, being an Irish (lapsed) Catholic and all.
And no, for change, I wasn't solo; my date was one of my blog readers who'd contacted me and suggested that we meet up and enjoy the dinner and lecture together. Write a blog! Meet new people!
Between the charming company, trying new foods and (because I am a nerd) the interesting stuff I learned in the lecture/cooking demonstration, I had a terrific time.
Dinner began with the Romanian vegetable stew Guvetch and, given the Romanian propensity to put garlic in everything, I loved this dish. The woman on the other side of me picked out her cooked carrots (she only likes them raw) and I so wanted to fish them out of her bowland eat them, but thought better of it.
As we were eating the stew, author Gil Marks began a demonstration of making Keftes (Sepahardic leek patties), telling the audience that "the best implement in the kitchen is the human hand." My Southern grandmother would have agreed with him.
Next up was Fesenjan (Persian chicken with pomegranates and walnuts), fidellos tostados (Sepahardic toasted noodles) and the Keftes de Prasa that Marks had just shown us how to make. I was particularly fond of the onion, pomegranate and walnut mixture in the chicken's broth.
My non-Jewishness became glaringly apparent when the event's photographer came around to take a picture of our table. Someone suggested we have it taken bar mitzvah-style and still I sat in my seat.
Only when told did I understand that I needed to get up and stand behind the people on the other side of the table. Let's hope the picture doesn't reveal my cluelessness.
As we were nibbling Middle Eastern filled cookies (the iced anise was delicious), Marks went on to talk about the Americanization of Jewish food.
Once Jews began making some of their foodstuffs for sale, their best customers, he said, were the pioneers headed west and looking for well-preserved, long-lasting foods. Matzohs in covered wagons; who knew?
I had warned my date that I had a commitment immediately after the dinner lecture, so I said my goodbye and headed to the Listening Room's one-year anniversary performance. As one of the 95 people who came to the very first LR show, I was not going to miss tonight's music.
The LR is put on by the Foundry, a collective of musicians and artists who make it all happen every month. Appropriately, three members of that group were also tonight's first band, Jonathan Vassar and the Speckled Bird.
Despite having seen them perform many, many times over the past three years, tonight's show was something special. It came across as especially emotional and even songs I've heard before had been fine-tuned and seemed to hold fresh nuances.
And oh yes, Antonia did her legendary vox saw and even husband Jonathan acknowledged that he has no idea how she makes that amazing sound ("I tried once in the shower and it sounded like a dying rabbit.")
Favorite lyric: Think of me. I know that you know who I am.
Psalmships from Philly was next and singer/songwriter Josh told us that his band hadn't been able to make it. It didn't matter; his four-string guitar playing and distinctive voice delivered a noteworthy set.
He praised RVA, saying, "I don't really know what's going on in Richmond, but if Jonathan Vassar and Horsehead are any indication, you need to block the gates." I loved hearing that an out-of-towner recognized what a great scene we have here.
Favorite lyric: You can't get here fast enough. I will swim to you."
Horsehead played last and I had seen them do an acoustic set at Six Burner a while back, although they acknowledged that they're an electric band. They were very polished, very tight musically and the crowd really liked them.
They deviated from their set list only once, to play a new song about stalking...told from the stalker's perspective. "Hate me if you will," the lead singer said admitting that it was the first such song he knew of. He's undoubtedly right about that, but the audience found humor in the song.
Lead guitarist Kevin was a pleasure to watch from my front row seat; his talented musicianship and beautiful harmonies were the set's highlight for me.
I might add that both he and the bass player had a dimple, a surprisingly high dimple ratio for a four-piece band (I notice this kind of thing only because I have dimples myself).
Tonight's show ran unusually long for the Listening Room (not that anyone was complaining, mind you), but not so late that I couldn't head over to Republic afterwards with a couple of friends for a show about sex.
The inimitable Prabir Mehta was playing a show all about sex with his partner in crime (and symphony violinist) Treesa Gold. There were booty bags and condoms being handed out. And why was I there?
Not because I like Republic cause I don't (Andrew and I went one time and permanently crossed it off our list). Everyone in the place smokes, so we reeked after being in there for a relatively short time. And the crowd is, well, the crowd wouldn't like me.
But Prabir and Treesa are friends and talented musicians and I was curious to see what kind of hilarity would ensue. Would they even be able to keep straight faces?
It was totally worth it. Treesa rapped (yes, really) and as Prabir's brother noted, "That's the whitest thing I ever heard in my life." Her husband cringed and fortified himself with many Bass Ales (he also shot video, it should be noted).
When the smoke and annoying people finally got to us, we left, but just as we stepped outside, I heard the first few notes of the Divinyls' masterfully metaphoric "I Touch Myself." There was no way I could walk away from that.
On the side of the building, I slowly opened the door that faces the stage so we had our own private viewing area. The three of us watched as Prabir and Treesa tore it up.
At the end, Prabir glanced over at us with a look of pure sheepishness. Treesa beamed.
Keftes with a reader, four-string guitars and dimples, booty bags and self-pleasuring. This may have been a Tuesday night for the books.
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