How long 'till we learn dancing is dangerous?
How long 'till we find the devil inside of us?
How high is too low?
We're not that young*
So we're never going to stop
*Mind you, written and sung by a man of indeterminate age, so his notion of "youth" may be suspect.
I bought my ticket for St. Lucia at the National six weeks ago, but only found a worthy date for it a few days ago. In the meantime, the only other St. Lucia fan I know had commented that while the new album "Matter" wasn't quite as good as the first (because how many are?), there were more than a few terrific songs.
My first listen uncovered "Dancing on Glass," the Prince-titled "Game 4 You," the driving (and vaguely Christopher Cross-inflected) "Winds of Change" and the slow jam "Love Someone," meaning I now had even more reasons to look forward to this show.
We stopped at Rapp Session for Old Saltes and bluefish dip accompanied by sparkling Rose while the duo next to us nattered over why a friend had managed to pull down the towel racks and shower curtain while staying in their home.
"What could you be doing in a bathroom that would pull things off the wall?" she wondered aloud. Sex was my guess but I was told to shush.
Our time at Rapp Session was limited by needing to get a ticket for my companion at the National's box office, which required navigating the hustle and bustle of crowds on their way to eat before the Richmond Symphony season opener with Itzhak Perlman, resulting in blue hairs crowding every restaurant we passed.
But once that was accomplished, we were free to adjourn to Vagabond, where sparkling Rose and a massive ancho cocoa-smoked lamb shoulder tostada with chimichurri aioli and a flurry of Manchego on top finished off our appetites with lamb-be-cue worthy of the State Fair.
Arriving at the National shortly after Sofi Tukker (that's Sofi and Tukker, a duo) began their set, I overheard a guy refer to Tukker's hair as "Very Split Enz," while we all know that no one has hair with quite the swoop of Split Enz.
We heard songs in Portuguese, songs sung to recorded tracks (karaoke?) and praise when the audience followed instructions to do hand gestures to a song.
"We haven't had that much participation since we were in Latvia and no, that's not a punchline!" Tukker said from the stage.
I'm not gonna lie, I've been an unabashed fan of St. Lucia's debut album "When the Night" since I first heard it in 2013 and for years kept it in my car as quality back-up emergency music when I hadn't time to select fresh road trip soundtracks.
Fact: when you're on cruise control to the Northern Neck or Outer Banks, sometimes nothing but synth and danceable percussion will do.
After a couple of songs from the new album, the crowd roared when they launched into "Closer Than This," but I couldn't have been the only one noticing singer Jean-Philip Grobler's indebtedness to, say, George Michael.
I especially loved the wind effect that defined his performance, as his hair and black and white patterned shirt were blown constantly, as if he were starring in a cheesy '80s video, which, for all I know, he may have wished he was. He certainly wouldn't be the first.
He certainly had no fear of walking through the crowd, eventually making it back to the area in front of the sound booth where we stood and watched him high-five any number of dizzy fans.
Come to think of it, the percussionist bore a fair resemblance to John Oates in a sleeveless t-shirt and sweat pants tapered at the ankle, his shirt also billowing from an unseen fan.
Oh, if it were only that easy to revive that era.
Interestingly enough, I saw not a soul I know, a rarity for a show at the National, so I can only assume that my passion for '80s synth music-influenced bands with singers from South Africa is not one shared by my friends.
Happily, I only needed one, difficult as he may be. I'd be the first to admit that dancing can be dangerous but how high is too low?
I aim to find out.
Showing posts with label st. lucia. Show all posts
Showing posts with label st. lucia. Show all posts
Monday, September 26, 2016
Monday, February 15, 2016
All Eyes on Cool Beans
Valentine's Day in the rear view mirror (with apologies for my tardiness):
It was a bittersweet walk to Dixie Donuts for their last day but since theirs are my favorite Richmond doughnuts by far, it was non-negotiable.
The cases looked a little depleted, but right in the center was a tray of pink and white Valentine's doughnuts with conversation heart wisdom written on them in icing - "Will you be mine?" and "XXOO" - so I ordered one sporting "You are cool beans" and looked in vain for my fave.
About to settle for something else, I lucked out with my timing and a tray of chocolate chocolate doughnuts came out moments later, the chocolate icing still dripping off them. I ate it standing up at the window looking out on Carytown.
The owner made sure her staff knew that I'd walked all the way over from Jackson Ward - a 5 1/2 mile round trip - and they acted impressed, but what's a little walk for a fresh, oozing doughnut?
Walking back past the Lowe's on Broad Street, a man stopped me to ask why the flags were at half-mast. Clicking my brain into gear - or maybe just smacking it out of its sugar rush - I explained that a Supreme Court Justice had died yesterday and refrained from sharing my opinion of the deceased.
Probably too soon, but I already have a favorite death joke: Antonin Scalia requested cremation in his will, but millions of women will meet tomorrow to discuss if that's really best for his body.
Sorry, it made me laugh.
My favorite Valentine came in the mail from Holmes and Beloved. Addressed "To Karen aka "ff" (Holmes refers to me as Femme Fatale), it read, "You're a charmer, Valentine" and was surrounded by figures from "Toy Story."
It wouldn't be Valentine's Day without Holmes' annual miniature missive reminding me of the February swaps back in elementary school. And unlike back then, no one told him he had to give me one.
Mid-afternoon, I called a friend to see what he was doing and while he claimed to be "chilling," he sounded a little down, so I insisted he come pick me up for lunch and some chatter.
We wound up having a blast, meeting a group of 20 or so strangers who'd driven up from Virginia Beach for a group lunch and welcomed us into their party, for which we became the official photographers.
Let's just say when he dropped me off, he was in a far sunnier mood than the one he'd arrived in, no surprise since he once told me, "You act just like a drug on my mood" and fortunately, he wasn't referring to heroin.
And because everyone wants her friends to think of her as some kind of drug.
Over the course of two restaurants - Camden's and Lucy's - I met two couples celebrating not just Valentine's Day but also their anniversary. The ones who'd been married 31 years were the cutest because he admitted without hesitation, "We like to be together all the time" while she nodded and smiled ear to ear.
Not sure I could do the "all the time" part, but I am in awe of long-time, still-happy couples (like my parents) and wonder what they had that I didn't. It's not just luck, is it?
The other couple had gotten married last year at Lucy's, so tonight's Valentine's dinner was particularly evocative of last year's festivities, albeit with more strangers than friends. They were adorable, too, dressed to impress (each other, no doubt), one in a red sweater and blue tie and the other in a blue sweater and red tie.
It began snowing while we were eating duck breast and goat cheese polenta at Lucy's and listening to the Lord Huron Pandora station which focused on earnest-sounding male songwriters. For my money, any station that works in St. Lucia's "All Eyes on You" on such a determinedly romantic day is fine by me.
Cause I hope
We will never have to take back
What we said in the night
I hope that I will always have
All eyes on you
Sounds romantic to me, but what do I know?
It was a bittersweet walk to Dixie Donuts for their last day but since theirs are my favorite Richmond doughnuts by far, it was non-negotiable.
The cases looked a little depleted, but right in the center was a tray of pink and white Valentine's doughnuts with conversation heart wisdom written on them in icing - "Will you be mine?" and "XXOO" - so I ordered one sporting "You are cool beans" and looked in vain for my fave.
About to settle for something else, I lucked out with my timing and a tray of chocolate chocolate doughnuts came out moments later, the chocolate icing still dripping off them. I ate it standing up at the window looking out on Carytown.
The owner made sure her staff knew that I'd walked all the way over from Jackson Ward - a 5 1/2 mile round trip - and they acted impressed, but what's a little walk for a fresh, oozing doughnut?
Walking back past the Lowe's on Broad Street, a man stopped me to ask why the flags were at half-mast. Clicking my brain into gear - or maybe just smacking it out of its sugar rush - I explained that a Supreme Court Justice had died yesterday and refrained from sharing my opinion of the deceased.
Probably too soon, but I already have a favorite death joke: Antonin Scalia requested cremation in his will, but millions of women will meet tomorrow to discuss if that's really best for his body.
Sorry, it made me laugh.
My favorite Valentine came in the mail from Holmes and Beloved. Addressed "To Karen aka "ff" (Holmes refers to me as Femme Fatale), it read, "You're a charmer, Valentine" and was surrounded by figures from "Toy Story."
It wouldn't be Valentine's Day without Holmes' annual miniature missive reminding me of the February swaps back in elementary school. And unlike back then, no one told him he had to give me one.
Mid-afternoon, I called a friend to see what he was doing and while he claimed to be "chilling," he sounded a little down, so I insisted he come pick me up for lunch and some chatter.
We wound up having a blast, meeting a group of 20 or so strangers who'd driven up from Virginia Beach for a group lunch and welcomed us into their party, for which we became the official photographers.
Let's just say when he dropped me off, he was in a far sunnier mood than the one he'd arrived in, no surprise since he once told me, "You act just like a drug on my mood" and fortunately, he wasn't referring to heroin.
And because everyone wants her friends to think of her as some kind of drug.
Over the course of two restaurants - Camden's and Lucy's - I met two couples celebrating not just Valentine's Day but also their anniversary. The ones who'd been married 31 years were the cutest because he admitted without hesitation, "We like to be together all the time" while she nodded and smiled ear to ear.
Not sure I could do the "all the time" part, but I am in awe of long-time, still-happy couples (like my parents) and wonder what they had that I didn't. It's not just luck, is it?
The other couple had gotten married last year at Lucy's, so tonight's Valentine's dinner was particularly evocative of last year's festivities, albeit with more strangers than friends. They were adorable, too, dressed to impress (each other, no doubt), one in a red sweater and blue tie and the other in a blue sweater and red tie.
It began snowing while we were eating duck breast and goat cheese polenta at Lucy's and listening to the Lord Huron Pandora station which focused on earnest-sounding male songwriters. For my money, any station that works in St. Lucia's "All Eyes on You" on such a determinedly romantic day is fine by me.
Cause I hope
We will never have to take back
What we said in the night
I hope that I will always have
All eyes on you
Sounds romantic to me, but what do I know?
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