Big Love

Be present. Well, duh.

That zen-like reminder was painted on the wall of the restaurant, but not the first restaurant I went to today because that one was in service of my hired mouth and was for breakfast.

Breakfast was before we took a road trip to Norfolk listening to REM and the Bo Deans and cursing people who brake for no good reason and before our silver-tongued tour guide gave us a walking tour of Norfolk's waterfront.

It was during that walkabout that he led us to Java Surf Coffee Shop, passing a window display with a sign that read, "In a relationship, one person needs to be the emotional designated driver," sparking a discussion of whether that's true or not. Dissent was expressed; I abstained.

Eventually, we made it to the piece-de-resistance: the USS Wisconsin, a circa 1943 battleship rising up like a giant silver blowfish on steroids when we first encountered it head on.

Honestly, I was unprepared for how massive it was and if we'd had the time, I'd have been all about touring it. Another time, I hope.

Impressive in a different sort of way was a ridiculously long dark blue sailboat (by that, I mean far longer than my apartment times two) with masts too high to fit in the photograph I tried to take of it. That it was registered in the Cayman Islands gave us to believe there was drug-laundering money involved, but made it no less beautiful or tremendously sized.

After meandering through downtown, we landed on the sidewalk in front of a doormat-sized inlay that used fancy script to spell out "The Fontaine Room," giving testament to the restaurant's former life.

These days, it's a swinging hot spot called the Grilled Cheese Bistro which required a short wait for one of the community tables (which is the only kind they have, a trend I embrace), but paid off in spades with exceptional sandwiches (cooked in buckets of clarified butter), killer fries and a bartender who never let the hordes wipe the smile off her face or the good attitude from her words.

I think it was because she was being present. I know I was.

Now that I think about it, though, I may also have been swayed by them having Dominion Brewing root beer on tap, because what accompanies a Johnny Appleseed grilled cheese better?

By the time we rolled out of there, a long line had already begun snaking down the sidewalk in anticipation of tonight's Hanson show at the Norva, bringing up the question, who loves Hanson that much in 2017 anyway?

Clearly the show was sold out, but it mattered not because by late afternoon, we were heading back because we've got shows of our own in Richmond, you know.

And tonight's was a helluva bill: the Richmond Symphony with Tim Barry, Clair Morgan, Natalie Prass, Bio Ritmo and Matthew E. White.

Setting out on foot, we breezed past the crowded Grace Street restaurant patios to land at Maya, where our server was a familiar face and, coincidentally, a J-Ward neighbor. Given tonight's show, the place was mobbed and he was keeping everything handled with his usual aplomb and self-deprecation.

I don't often eat three meals out in one day unless I'm on vacation (I could stretch that a bit and say that with the road trip and playing tourist all day that it was vacation-like), but sometimes you just have to eat the fish tacos and be happy someone else is willing to cook for you.

Across the street, the Carpenter Center was filling up with a mix of longtime Symphony Pops subscribers and a whole lot of people who'd probably never been to the Symphony in their life, but were fans of one of the bands performing tonight.

It was a pretty fascinating show in that local musician Trey Pollard had written arrangements for their songs based on what would best suit their existing music. It ranged from Tim Barry being just a voice and guitar to Bio Ritmo's nine musicians (tonight with the bonus of singer Laura Ann Singh) and salsa rhythms, providing huge flexibility in where and how much the symphony came in.

Clair Morgan provided humor when his band took the stage without him and he finally came out, saying, "My wife's gonna kill me, but I can't find my guitar strap." Luckily, it was soon located and they could play, vibraphones and all, without any husbands being killed.

Ultimately, rock trumped symphony and light projections made the performance oh-so groovy while the crowd didn't hesitate to call out to friends and favorite performers onstage.

In the loo during intermission, I heard my name called and there was the woman I run into everywhere: the Northern Neck, a southside coffee shop, an obscure house show, now the symphony.

Heading back to my seat, I heard my name called and turned around to see my former neighbor. When I marveled that he'd recognized me from the back, he said it was my hair. I think I believe him.

Walking through the inner lobby, I ran into a gorgeous girlfriend and once in the outer lobby, a favorite sax player greeted me. My people were everywhere.

Be present often enough and they all find you. Okay, maybe not in the Fontaine Room, but definitely here in Richmond.

Does being asleep count as being present? Asking for a friend...

Speak My Name in Whispers

I got called out for truancy again.

Last month I had missed the Listening Room because I'd gone to see music played for Tom & Jerry cartoons, here.

I had no idea that my absence had been noted until this past Saturday when it came up while talking to Antonia, part of the Listening Room Crew.

"Actually I was concerned when you weren't there," she told me. "If I'd gotten up the next morning and not seen a post from you, I'd have been seriously worried."

Like calling the police worried?

"Well, yea, you're always there."

And now I have besmirched my record with one absence.

So tonight's show was non-negotiable.

I had run into a friend on my walk this morning (or rather, he'd almost run into me with his car, yelling out the window, "Hey, nice legs!") and he'd suggested meeting up for dinner because he wanted to talk about something important.

I'd agreed, with the caveat that it had to be an early meal so I could make the Listening Room.

We met at Aziza right when it opened and we weren't even the first customers.

We'd come for the pizza because my friend hadn't had it yet, but we started with a salad of crispy egg, arugula and shaved Parmesan with roasted shallot vinaigrette.

If you have any idea what a crispy egg would be, you're smarter than we were.

It was a soft boiled egg that was then momentarily deep-fried, resulting in the lightest possible crispy shell on an egg that still had runny yolk.

Let's just say it made the salad, spreading its yolky richness over everything.

My friend is dating a rigorously healthy eater, so the first thing that caught his eye on the pizza menu was the nitrate-free pepperoni.

Oh, boy, processed meat and no witnesses, his face seemed to say.

But instead we got our pie topped with the Belmont Butchery hot sausage and caramelized onions (or carmalized, as the menu spelled it, omitting and transposing vowels).

The spicy/sweet combination was wonderful and we couldn't even finish it.

But when the server offered us a cream puff, we magically found room for dessert.

Once again, I was his partner in crime because the girlfriend doesn't eat refined sugar (I am clearly a bad influence).

Being a photographer, he took a picture of this monument to sugar, both untouched on the plate and another of me with my open mouth hovering just above it.

I'd worry about him posting it on Facebook, except that I doubt he'd be so foolish as to provide documentation of his errant eating habits.

And then it was time for roll call at the Listening Room.

I think there were just as many Tim Barry/Avail fans at the Michaux House tonight as there had been at Fine Foods Saturday, here. 

The man has a devoted following, that's for sure. It wasn't long before the room was at capacity.

The show began with Paw Paw, consisting of the brothers Parker.

Their set started with sibling sniping.

Jonathan: "This is a new song called Code Red." Pause. "Well, it's not really called that."

Brother Alan: "Well, it's not really new either."

As former members of local band Pendleton, the two played a mix of that band's material and their newer songs along with a whole lot of guitar.

It was good stuff.

Andy Cobb of the Itchy Hearts followed with his high energy soul/folk and often funny but observant lyrics.

Favorite: "People speak my name in whispers, What finer praise can there be?"

He was joined for one song by Alan Parker of Paw Paw and played a love song written by his best friend.

Tim Barry opened by commenting on the collective awkwardness he was feeling, asking if the audience was feeling the same.

He endeared himself to the audience right off the bat by saying, "So VCU is back in session. What a nightmare!"

I laughed because I had noticed the roving gangs of 18-year olds on the way over, seemingly oblivious to the city around them.

He then launched into a Richmond-centric set of songs he said meant nothing to tour crowds but clearly pleased him to play.

Josh Small joined in on guitar and vocals for the first couple of songs; the two play (all connotations of the word) together often it seems and their voices blended beautifully.

Sample lyric: "I come from Virginia, against the grain and with the wind."

Introducing a song, he said, "If you were ever in Oregon Hill in the early 90s, it was a completely different place than Oregon Hilliamburg is today."

That was just one of many musical references and opinions on everything from Scott's Addition to freight train riding to Fine Foods to 15th Street.

The man admits he's insane, proudly wears his anti-war stance on his sleeve and insists that the only way to stay vital is by taking on challenges that scare you.

He admitted to being scared to perform in front of a listening room- style audience tonight, but mid-set allowed that he was relaxing some.

When the last passionate song ended, the applause was room-filling.

I'd have been an idiot to have been absent tonight and missed so visceral a performance.

Besides, I wouldn't want to worry the people taking attendance.

Morning Music Unplugged

When worlds collide: I had to walk through VCU's campus on move-in day to get to the Tim Barry show at Fine Foods this morning.

The campus was crawling with freshmen and their families unloading their worldly goods for transfer to the dorms (two things common to every pile: a full-length mirror and bottled water). The students looked impossibly young and the parents looked harried even through the morning was young. The sidewalks were clogged with people and stuff. Welcome to VCU.

Arriving in Oregon Hill, minivans, SUVs and frantic families gave way to an almost entirely tattooed crowd of kids in bathing suits, kids with cases of PBR and kids on bikes. One guy had on the most amazing pair of green glitter bathing trunks; they looked like the scales of a mermaid's tail. Welcome to Best Friends Day.

Like last year, here, and the year before, I always make a point to be at the Saturday morning show at Fine Foods. It doesn't matter what the music is, either. I go because I can't resist the lure of a morning show (even earlier at 10 this year compared to 11 the last two years), the crowd is always colorful and I like showing support for a true Richmond tradition.

After the past two years of full-on noise, today's show was relatively low-key. Former Avail front man Tim Barry did an unplugged set, no doubt surprising some of the audience members. Surrounded by the sweaty and hungover crowd, he played an energetic show in the shaded part of the parking lot.

I talked to a bunch of people who told me they were there specifically for Barry. Two guys with whom I was sharing the shade of a tree told me that they' d driven up from Norfolk this morning solely to see him play and then do some rock climbing by the river. Nothing more. Barry and rocks and they were out.

I didn't have the heart to tell them that he's playing the Listening Room Tuesday night. It's a good week to be a Tim Barry fan in Richmond.

Walking home through Monroe Park, I detoured through the misting tent, using VCU's water to cool my Fine Foods show sweat. Now that's the kind of worlds colliding I'm talking about.