Mexicali Ghosts

The summer officially began for me tonight with the kickoff of Anderson Gallery's Happy Hour series.

I had a ball at it last year, here, so I was more than ready to start it all up again and see what fresh fun they'd concocted.

Answer: dessert and music. It was an ice cream social with two bands playing and two new exhibits to see.

They might as well have called it the Happy Karen Hour series.

When we arrived Sweet Fern was playing, which meant Allison Self's big, beautiful voice and Josh Bearman's guitar and harmonies.

A diverse crowd (a neighbor, the man about town, WRIR folks, the beekeeper) was already in place, all tuned into what was being played.

I always enjoy watching people experience Allison singing for the first time because she just doesn't sound like anyone else in these parts.

Sometimes the songs were innuendo-filled (although I noticed that with young 'uns in the room, she didn't do her most ribald material) and sometimes straight up.

"I'm Just Here to Get my Baby Out of Jail," pretty much lays it out.

Josh used his quick wit to announce the finale, "I'm Leaving You This Lonesome Song."

Then they did just that.

I scored some Bev's Mexicali chocolate ice cream (the ice cream portion of the social) and took advantage of chocolate sauce and peanuts to top it.

When I returned inside to eat it, I had to explain to several confused guys what the "Mexicali" portion of the ice cream's name meant.

To a man, they were shocked when they tasted the heat behind the chocolate ("What is in this ice cream?" one confused looking guy wailed to me).

I also used the break to check out the tiny show "Summer Mixer," a collection of 1920s to 1970s household appliances and ephemera from the Eclectic Electric collection, which I'd seen in a larger form, here.

Call me mid-century modern, but I love those old Cool Spot fans and Havana shakers, all but emblems of happy housewives and glamorous partygoers of another era.

After satisfying my inner domestic goddess (for I don't have much of an outer one), I jumped ship upstairs to see Rosemarie Fiore's "Fireworks."

The large scale works made by setting off fireworks with dyes were unique, but it was her smoke domes that captured my attention.

Smoke bombs are set off inside molten glass for jellyfish looking creations defined by swirls and embellishments.

They really have to be seen to be understood, much less appreciated. But see them.

Back on the ground floor, River City Band was playing and I've seen them enough to know what good pickers they are.

Meanwhile, audience members looked for seats, many holding both a glass of wine and a dish of ice cream.

That's my kind of cocktail hour.

Guitarist Grant began by addressing Josh and Allison about their mutual admiration, saying. "We should have a Carter Family Festival this summer and sing all Carter Family songs. Maybe August?"

Reason number 85296 I love this town. There are people who think that way.

Seamlessly winding their way through the likes of Bill Munroe and the late, great Earl Scruggs, they dazzled with fast pickin' and strong harmonies.

When they finished, we took off for Aziza's and some chow.

The place was lively when we arrived but we were the only ones at the bar.

Catching the end of happy hour, obviously our second of the night, we chose a bottle of Santa Julia Viognier, which hit the spot with our small plate choices.

Sea bean salad was a must since who's ever heard of sea beans (we asked and were assured they grew in the sea)?

Served with marinated shrimp and tarragon vinaigrette, the dish had a briny crunch from the very slender bean stalks that complemented the zesty shrimp.

Roasted mushrooms with asparagus, pea shoots and a sunny side up egg had an underpinning of lemon and overtones of a rich yolk. Yum.

When our server came to check on us, I mentioned how hard it was to hear the music.

"Want me to turn it up?" she genially offered. "What music? 40s, 50s, 60s?"

I chose sixties and while it wouldn't have been my first choice (no reverb! no horns!), now I could at least hear it.

And while I didn't particularly need to hear "Last Train to Clarksville" again, I definitely got a kick out of hearing "Only the String Survive."

I remember my first love affair
Somehow or another the whole darn thing went wrong
My mama had some great advice
So I thought I'd put it into words of this song


The only way to top that was with Three Dog Night's "Old Fashioned Love Song."

Hey, I couldn't blame anyone but myself. I'd said yes to the sixties.

When she returned later to see if we wanted dessert, all of a sudden the music returned to 40s and then 50s music as we all looked dumbfounded.

After checking to make sure the other server hadn't changed the station, she shrugged it off as, "We have ghosts here."

In buildings that old that have seen that much? I'm not surprised in the least.

Putting aside paranormal activity, we declined a cream puff since we'd begun with Bev's at the Anderson  hours ago.

And speaking of early ice cream, I think they should serve Bev's at that Carter Family Festival later this summer.

It'll be the perfect bookend to tonight's start of the season.

And reason 85297.

Music Three Ways

"I promised to hold the show for you but I didn't promise not to embarrass you."
~ Chris Edwards

I arrived at the Listening Room late, at 7:55, but once again my parking spot was suspect. So, I ran back out to move my car just in case. I returned to the opening remarks by MC Chris, in which he was saying. "And we can begin now because Karen is here." It was after 8:00. Mortifying.

But the music, as always, was terrific. Exebelle and the Rusted Cavalcade were on first and I was happy to see Ben Wilson on keyboards. Ben, formerly of We Know, Plato! is a long-time favorite of mine for his thoughtful lyrics, excellent voice and talented keyboard playing.

E&TRC was unique in that all four members wrote songs and all four sang. We listened to a song by each (Ben introduced his as, "Spilt Coffee, semi-colon, the end" and naturally, I'm a fan of punctuation geeks). Their alt-country sound with banjo, upright bass, mandolin and pedal steel was a pleasure to listen to and I'm not usually a country music fan.

Favorite lyric: Every now and then the craving comes in, The door I thought I had locked. Runner up: My heart needs a slow dance. Any kind of romance. Leave it to country music.

Bluegrass followed in the form of River City Band, a group described as "bluegrass done right," an apt description of this multi-talented group They focused tonight on original material, something they said they don't often get to do. We did hear some traditional songs (Handsome Molly) and a Jonathan Vassar-penned tune as well.

Favorite lyric: Stand up straight, Put a hop in my step, I'm on my way, But I'm not there yet (from Taking a Break from the Blues). These guys are not to be missed.

The Happy Lucky Combo began by describing themselves as a combination tango, klezmer and zydeco group, something between Middle Eastern music and the blues. Then they proceeded to impress.

Their eclectic sound used electric upright bass (even bowed occasionally), accordion and drums. Cotton Pickin' Bulgar was a song about a broken heart, but not written from the view of the breaker or breakee, but instead from that of the friend helping the breakee.

A standout was Zydeco Samba ("Not really zydeco or a samba," we were told) with drummer Pippin Barnett playing a mean and non-stop triangle. It made the song. They finished with a polka because, they said, they didn't know any Hendrix.

And not once did the lights fall.

I then grabbed the friend who had helped me as a breakee and we went to Rosie Connelly's to talk madly after so much intent listening.

This was after she had passed me a note during the show saying "Do you want to be friends? Check One. Yes No Fuck Off." I laughed so hard and had to be silent about it that I almost stopped breathing.

Now that's a friend.

Music Lover Goes Partying First

How is that some nights I have invitations to do four fun things and other nights I am desperately seeking even one worthy destination?

Tonight I whittled the four down to two and spent six thoroughly enjoyable hours with old friends, new friends and music lovers, but still didn't get to do everything I wanted to do.

Yesterday I'd gotten a last minute party invitation from a friend celebrating all kinds of things: openings, anniversaries, life in general.

The crowd was comprised of foodies, wine geeks, stellar cooks and only one thumping bore, whom I avoided.

The conversation was as varied as the crowd.

The food was extensive and creative: tilapia ceviche, rare dry-rub flank steak, arugula and white bean salad, smoked salmon salad, onion confit with cheese and bread, roasted pork loin, bean and corn salad, pasta with asparagus and pesto, and way too much more to remember, much less mention.

I did my best to taste it all in the name of being a good guest.

Because of the abundance of wine reps, there were all kinds of liquid delights, both the grape variety and the hop variety.

There were beer tastings (the creamy chocolate stout surprised me) and wine tastings (same wine, same year, one corked and one in a screw top; surprisingly, the screw top yielded more on the nose and slightly fuller flavor).

I did an Octagon tasting with a friend's handsome brown-eyed man.

There were toasts to obscure grapes. Far too many pictures were taken and will doubtlessly appear on Facebook and embarrass us all.

Eventually the music got louder and dancing began, with several white guys showing off their dubious hip hop moves .

I got reacquainted with a girl I'd met at the Man Meat dinner two years ago and we delved into our relationship tales; the parallels were uncanny (the differences were in the endings so far) and we made plans to meet again far from the madding crowd.

I enjoyed extended conversation with our local jazz DJ, a fellow radio rat.

I was thanked by a wine rep whose tasting I'd written about in my Belle column last month.

He was tickled when he realized it was me who had sung his praises (the event sold out).

But finally, I had to beat feet or risk missing music and my second stop of the evening.

It was Live at Ipanema tonight and I didn't want to miss the River City Band's take on bluegrass.

Nor did several local musicians, including Alison Self, Chris of the Colloquial Orchestra, Josh of Mermaid Skeletons and the multi-talented Jonathan Vassar.

As I sat at the bar before the show talking to the bartender about the small crowd (it grew much larger later), I mentioned all the other events going on tonight that may have splintered the audience.

The guy next to me turned and introduced himself as Grant, one of the musicians playing tonight.

He seemed to know I was Karen and said that he reads my blog.

"For the music, I guess?" I asked. "And for the restaurant stuff and all of it," he added.

Quelle compliment!

River City Band was made up of an upright bass, banjo, guitar, mandolin and occasionally violin (Jessica was borrowed from Zac Hyrciak and the Jungle Beat) and their set included original material and diverse covers, including Jimmy Cliff's "The Harder They Fall" and one by Jonathan Vassar.

They had a great sound and several excellent voices.

The only sour note was the incessant talking of the audience.

Despite strong performances by the band, and the fact that the show was being recorded, they had to fight to be heard over the drunken conversations of the crowd; I hate when that happens.

Luckily for me, River City Band will be playing the Listening Room in October so I can enjoy them more completely then.

And with any luck, there won't be three other must-dos competing for my time that evening.

But if my dilemma is having to choose which event to attend on any given evening, I really don't have any problem at all.