Once upon a time, when my life was very different and so was the Richmond music scene, a new concept took hold.
It was November 2009 when the Listening Room opened up the basement doors of the Michaux house and welcomed in anyone and everyone willing to shut up and listen while the music played, here.
Back then, it was so refreshing to be able to go to a show where you knew you'd be able to hear every note, every harmony. And the string of twinkle lights would reliably fall from the low basement ceiling every time.
Like death and taxes, some things are certainties.
Tonight marked the end of that remarkable string of shows with the final installment of the Listening Room at the Firehouse Theater.
One thing about tonight was non-negotiable: I was going to sit in my usual seat come hell or high water.
So I arrived early enough to stake my territory and hang out with the LR crew whom I've gotten to know over the years. Emcee Chris saw me and said, "I'd have been devastated if you hadn't come."
As if.
When I finally took my seat I was joined by my favorite Jackson Ward couple, also long-time LR regulars.
A few minutes later, photographer Rob, part of the original crew, came over to bring the three of us glasses of bubbly to celebrate our nearly half a decade allegiance to the Listening Room.
One of the LR rules is that shows start on time but tonight's was a tad tardy with emcee Chris taking the stage to acknowledge as much.
He shared that the very first night of the series, Apropos Roasters brought coffee but forgot to bring a grinder. Now, almost five years later, they have an actual coffee shop. Time marches forward.
Appropriately, tonight's first act was Dogs on Main Street, also known as Mac, a fine singer and musician I first saw at the Listening Room back in February 2011 when he was the first one to inaugurate the move from the Michaux House to the Firehouse.
I've seen him many times since and he only continues to sound less raw and more poignant, although the one thing that hasn't changed is his stellar self-deprecating sense of humor, in full flower tonight.
After his first heartfelt song, he explained that over the next few songs he was going to take us low and then lower and then back up and even higher. "So don't leave," he warned. "I'm not responsible for what happens if you do."
Anyone who had left (no one did) would have missed his second song ending abruptly when a string on his guitar snapped.
He'd come down from NYC on a Greyhound bus and so hadn't brought his usual second guitar. "I'm crashing and burning," he joked.
Mark of second band Vandaveer stepped out of the shadows and offered him a pack of guitar strings, asking, "What do you need?"
A guitar, Mac said and used Mark's to continue while Mark graciously took Mac's guitar backstage to restring it in the meantime.
Singer songwriter and LR originator Jonathan Vassar was called onstage and brought his wife's maternity accordion to join Mac for a song, an obvious mutual admiration society.
"You know what you get for trying to be different?" Mac asked us rhetorically. "A broken string!"
He chose to skip the song called "Gallows" even after he got his guitar returned and restrung, cracking wise saying, "I have download cards, postcards and an overdue credit card."
My favorite lines was, "I'm just an alley cat yearning for something more than this," at least until he played a new song and I heard him sing, "I guess my sins are at an even keel."
Saying that he was still going to be beating himself up about the broken string when he went to bed, Mac shared that at his release show at the Camel, he'd kicked his own cord out. "So what you saw tonight is pretty regular. Come talk to me after the show if I don't seem too unbearable."
Talented, yes. Hysterical for sure. Unbearable, not even a little. Dogs on Main Street is the epitome of what the Listening Room is about.
Talented musician with excellent songwriting chops and distinctive voice is introduced to music-loving masses and becomes part of local scene.
Tonight's crowd was understandably big and I felt a little sorry for those whose first LR was tonight. Imagine experiencing this and knowing it will be no more.
Once the second act began, the LR crew took the stage for a sort of mass farewell. Jonathan entreated us to keep listening. Antonia explained that there were people here tonight who'd been at that first Firehouse show seeing Mac and asked that those of us who'd been at the very first Michaux House show raise our hands.
We were a small group, but undoubtedly with some of the fondest memories in the room.
As he always does, Chris reminded us that the audience was 50% of the LR's success formula and even said, "Karen's been to more Listening Rooms than I have." The man didn't lie.
Next up was Vandaveer, a band I consider my May band. I first saw them in May 2011 and then again in May 2012, meaning I was overdue for my May Vandaveer fix.
They've been on a living room tour since April 1, covering over 13,000 miles with 3,000 left to go before the end of the month.
Leader Mark explained that he lived in Arlington, Virginia, singer Rose in Massachusetts and pedal steel player Tom was from Pennsylvania.
"For those of you keeping score, we play commonwealth music," he cracked. Literate humor, I like that. And if you ask me, it's better described as poetic music.
And I don't just like his voice, I adore his voice, which, as the girlfriend sitting next to me observed, "I even like his speaking voice." Uh huh.
Their sound is sort of alt-folk with his acoustic guitar bumped up with just enough reverb to tread near rock territory but Tom's pedal steel and Rose's exquisite voice on harmony and sometimes lead anchoring things firmly in LR territory.
When Mark mentioned that Tom was a Civil War buff who had spent some hours looking at Richmond's historic sites like Cold Harbor, he called us the birthplace of entrenchments.
"We used to make out there," my friend said leaning in as he husband sat oblivious on the other side of her.
The buoyant "However Many Takes It Takes," a song about perseverance, a subject I know well, won my vote for the line, "I'll be in the kingdom of your dreams."
"Sometimes it requires all arms and legs be on the ground to solve technical difficulties," Mark said at one point, pulling stuff out of the power strip in front of him and then flinging them over his shoulder. "None of that was necessary but it was for dramatic effect."
Dramatic aptly described his voice and Rose's over Tom's pedal steel or slide guitar and each song shimmered with the talent of the three. We couldn't have asked for a finer band to finish out the Listening Room.
For a soulful song about the coming apocalypse, Mark said, "There's nothing you can do except snap and sing along," which is about what I plan to do when the apocalypse finally does arrive.
Off their album of murder ballads from last year ("We sold dozens and dozens of that album"), they did "Pretty Polly" as Mark put it, "Modernized for your contemporary ears." That meant instead of guitar, he sang and stamped on the wooden floor.
We got another from that album when Rose sang "The Drunkard's Doom" and about brought the house down with her exquisite voice, sort of Emmylou Harris-like.
Then there was more literary humor when Mark told of writing a song because of Beverly Cleary and I wondered how many people in the crowd knew who she or Ramona Quimby had been.
Saying he couldn't call it "Ramona" because of Dylan's "To Ramona," he'd titled it "Beverly Cleary's 115th Dream," although he admitted that he didn't know that it was really her 115th.
Peace and love and harmony
and all the things that lovers need
Like hope and health and clarity and time
Oh, precious, precious time
And, just like that, the final Listening Room wound down. Mark called up the entire LR crew - Antonia, Jonathan, Chris, Rob, Nate- and Mac for the big singalong finale, Tom Waits' "Come On Up to the House."
I've no doubt that some of that crew got a bit misty up there singing because I know the long-time regulars in the room felt that way.
It was a really good run and the Listening Room set new standards for shows in this town. Oh, and the bands I discovered through being at almost every Listening Room. All the people I met there.
But it's not the end of the world, It's just a closing of the circle. It's run its course and now we'll have Listening Room Presents shows on an occasional basis.
What matters most is what Jonathan said. Keep on listening.
You better believe I will.
Showing posts with label vandaveer. Show all posts
Showing posts with label vandaveer. Show all posts
Wednesday, May 21, 2014
Sunday, May 13, 2012
Where Fate Begins
Arrive too late and you miss out. Leave too early and ditto. Stay in one place and they find you.
By the time I was in the mood to go out, it was 9ish and I had a hankering for Aziza's on Main.
Not for anything in particular because the menu always changes, but definitely in the mood for a small place, a low-key vibe and in all likelihood, a cream puff.
I walked into a bustling restaurant playing upbeat '50s music and when all was said and done, I was too full for dessert.
But I'm getting ahead of myself.
With a glass of South African wine in front of me (Man Vintner Sauvignon Blanc), I did something I almost never do.
I chose an entree.
And I had no problem deciding what I wanted: squab with wild mushrooms and gnocchi.
Before I could even order it, the bartender informed me that they were out of one item. Guess which one.
Seems one of the large graduation parties had all but wiped them out of squab.
Instead I opted for the seared John Dory with bacon, spring bean succotash and salsa verde, counting on bacon and beans to make me forget small birds and potato pasta.
The fish was flaky with crisp edges and the succotash of sauteed onions, fresh peas, fava beans and haricot vert offered sweet and salty and tasted like spring on a plate.
Wisely, I did my best to include a little cube of the thick-cut bacon in every bite.
All hope for a cream puff were lost after that.
Leaving Aziza's, I walked right into the shower of bubbles being generated from the roof across the street at 2113.
It sounds corny but it actually had a certain charm at that point in the evening (that point being pre-Bottom madness).
Next on my agenda was a show at the Camel and a very small crowd was there when I arrived.
I took a seat near the sound booth only to overhear two girls at the next table.
"It's amazing to me that someone who drinks every day of the week has never built up any tolerance," the blond said.
"Who are you talking about?" the brunette inquired.
"My Dad!" blond explained as Dad returned from the bathroom.
Moments later Richmond band From Fragile Seeds took the stage. I'd read that they were post rock so I was more than a little surprised that they had vocals.
Their dynamic sound (two guitars, bass and drum creating soundscapes) definitely fit the bill but the vocals came across as emo bordering on hardcore.
Since vocals are usually droning or gibberish (Sigur Ros) in post rock, they didn't quite work for me, at least as post-rock.
But the guitars as a means of building tension and evoking emotion was spot on.
Free CDs were available "unprotected" on a nearby table, we were told.
"We've got two more and that's 66% of that CD over there," the lead singer said. "That's two thirds!" he whispered to the math-challenged among us.
After their set, the nearby Dad turned to me, saying how glad he was to see someone nearer his own age.
Tony made his own introductions. A former business consultant from NOVA, he'd switched to owning a sailboat charter company in Annapolis.
Inquiring if I knew someone in the band, I explained that I'd come to hear D.C. band Vandaveer, whom I'd seen before and knew I liked.
At that moment, the duo got up on stage.
"She's in the band?" he asked about singer Rosie and I nodded. "I saw her sitting outside and I almost offered to pay her cover to get in. That would have been embarrassing."
With Dylan-like vocals and lyrics like "You've got a fistful of swoon," Vandaveer immediately captured the attention of the mere twenty people in the room.
Tony turned around and said, "You were right! They're great!"
Uh huh. Now hush.
The band went on to play some of their current project, an album of hundred-year old murder ballads.
One was about a North Carolina man who murdered his wife and then his six children.
With Rosie's beautiful harmonies complementing Mark's vocals, we heard several murder ballads including one they wrote themselves.
After a song about a ghost story, Tony turned around again, saying, "You should come up to Annapolis and let me take you sailing."
I'll keep that in mind only because I've been in Annapolis twice in the past month after fifteen years of not being there at all.
Now hush.
As Sunday drew near, singer Mark reminded everyone to call their mothers, but not at this hour.
"I was born on Mother's Day and I weighed ten pounds," he said. "That's about the worst present you can give a mother on Mother's Day."
It was too bad the crowd wasn't bigger for the beautiful music that Vandaveer played, but at least they were enthusiastic about our practically private show, clapping and cheering after each.
I was particularly enamored of the lyric, "Go swim in the deep end and find out where fate begins."
A word to the wise is sufficient.
As I was sinking into a song with the line, "Oh, honey, dreams are rarely what they seem," Tony turned around yet again and handed me his card.
"Let me take you sailing," he said, smiling and taking my hand.
Dad may not have had tolerance but he certainly had persistence.
Down to their last song, Mark said, "We have been and forever shall be Vandaveer," and the alt-folk duo left our ears with a song about "However many takes it takes."
Funny, that's exactly how many takes I was planning on to get this life of mine right.
Assisted by a fistful of swoon, of course.
By the time I was in the mood to go out, it was 9ish and I had a hankering for Aziza's on Main.
Not for anything in particular because the menu always changes, but definitely in the mood for a small place, a low-key vibe and in all likelihood, a cream puff.
I walked into a bustling restaurant playing upbeat '50s music and when all was said and done, I was too full for dessert.
But I'm getting ahead of myself.
With a glass of South African wine in front of me (Man Vintner Sauvignon Blanc), I did something I almost never do.
I chose an entree.
And I had no problem deciding what I wanted: squab with wild mushrooms and gnocchi.
Before I could even order it, the bartender informed me that they were out of one item. Guess which one.
Seems one of the large graduation parties had all but wiped them out of squab.
Instead I opted for the seared John Dory with bacon, spring bean succotash and salsa verde, counting on bacon and beans to make me forget small birds and potato pasta.
The fish was flaky with crisp edges and the succotash of sauteed onions, fresh peas, fava beans and haricot vert offered sweet and salty and tasted like spring on a plate.
Wisely, I did my best to include a little cube of the thick-cut bacon in every bite.
All hope for a cream puff were lost after that.
Leaving Aziza's, I walked right into the shower of bubbles being generated from the roof across the street at 2113.
It sounds corny but it actually had a certain charm at that point in the evening (that point being pre-Bottom madness).
Next on my agenda was a show at the Camel and a very small crowd was there when I arrived.
I took a seat near the sound booth only to overhear two girls at the next table.
"It's amazing to me that someone who drinks every day of the week has never built up any tolerance," the blond said.
"Who are you talking about?" the brunette inquired.
"My Dad!" blond explained as Dad returned from the bathroom.
Moments later Richmond band From Fragile Seeds took the stage. I'd read that they were post rock so I was more than a little surprised that they had vocals.
Their dynamic sound (two guitars, bass and drum creating soundscapes) definitely fit the bill but the vocals came across as emo bordering on hardcore.
Since vocals are usually droning or gibberish (Sigur Ros) in post rock, they didn't quite work for me, at least as post-rock.
But the guitars as a means of building tension and evoking emotion was spot on.
Free CDs were available "unprotected" on a nearby table, we were told.
"We've got two more and that's 66% of that CD over there," the lead singer said. "That's two thirds!" he whispered to the math-challenged among us.
After their set, the nearby Dad turned to me, saying how glad he was to see someone nearer his own age.
Tony made his own introductions. A former business consultant from NOVA, he'd switched to owning a sailboat charter company in Annapolis.
Inquiring if I knew someone in the band, I explained that I'd come to hear D.C. band Vandaveer, whom I'd seen before and knew I liked.
At that moment, the duo got up on stage.
"She's in the band?" he asked about singer Rosie and I nodded. "I saw her sitting outside and I almost offered to pay her cover to get in. That would have been embarrassing."
With Dylan-like vocals and lyrics like "You've got a fistful of swoon," Vandaveer immediately captured the attention of the mere twenty people in the room.
Tony turned around and said, "You were right! They're great!"
Uh huh. Now hush.
The band went on to play some of their current project, an album of hundred-year old murder ballads.
One was about a North Carolina man who murdered his wife and then his six children.
With Rosie's beautiful harmonies complementing Mark's vocals, we heard several murder ballads including one they wrote themselves.
After a song about a ghost story, Tony turned around again, saying, "You should come up to Annapolis and let me take you sailing."
I'll keep that in mind only because I've been in Annapolis twice in the past month after fifteen years of not being there at all.
Now hush.
As Sunday drew near, singer Mark reminded everyone to call their mothers, but not at this hour.
"I was born on Mother's Day and I weighed ten pounds," he said. "That's about the worst present you can give a mother on Mother's Day."
It was too bad the crowd wasn't bigger for the beautiful music that Vandaveer played, but at least they were enthusiastic about our practically private show, clapping and cheering after each.
I was particularly enamored of the lyric, "Go swim in the deep end and find out where fate begins."
A word to the wise is sufficient.
As I was sinking into a song with the line, "Oh, honey, dreams are rarely what they seem," Tony turned around yet again and handed me his card.
"Let me take you sailing," he said, smiling and taking my hand.
Dad may not have had tolerance but he certainly had persistence.
Down to their last song, Mark said, "We have been and forever shall be Vandaveer," and the alt-folk duo left our ears with a song about "However many takes it takes."
Funny, that's exactly how many takes I was planning on to get this life of mine right.
Assisted by a fistful of swoon, of course.
Friday, May 20, 2011
Sound of Music Before Death
It was a first. A woman named Shari Ann left me a message today saying that she had an urgent message for me about the bible.
I'm presuming she was calling to tell me about the end of the world, but I'll never know since I deleted the message. If I thought there was a hell, I'd be going straight there, I'm quite sure.
My second first of the day was a visit to the new Sound of Music Studio over on Foushee Street for a show. I'd seen bands at the old Broad Street studio, so I was eager to see the new space.
I was even more eager to hear the three bands on the bill: LA's Ferraby Lionheart, DC's Vandaveer and RVA's Low Branches, the only one of the three I'd heard previously. Knowing how amazing they are and that they'd chosen the bill, I knew to expect great things.
The intimate space with its two-floor ceilings and professional equipment provided a cozy and high-tech setting for the show. A grand piano and a couple of lamps softened the serious equipment vibe.
The room was a mix of people I knew and didn't, including some of RVA's best musicians (including one in a "Listen Local" t-shirt). A photographer and videographer did the heavy lifting while I just sat back and enjoyed.
With no fanfare, Ferraby Lionheart took his place and began. His low-key demeanor belied a sure voice and sincere, accessible lyrics.
He told of driving from LA to Texas with a friend and waking to see daybreak in the desert with cacti along the sides of the road, resulting in the song "Under the Texas Sky" and the line "I miss you like the honey jug misses the bear." Come on, you know that feeling, admit it.
His last album "Jack of Hearts" was recorded in Nashville and he played several songs from it including the prophetic "Pocketknife," with the lyrics:
There's nothing stirring in the night
There's no one here but you and I
What will we do with all our time?
I think we made it to the end of the world
At one point, he moved to the piano, saying, "I was figuring I could fiddle around on this thing. It's so big and pretty!" And the songs he played on it were just as big and pretty.
A friend had told me that she had listened to his new CD non-stop the past two weeks and by the end of his set, I could see why. His take on vintage folk pop was a knockout.
After an unusually short break, Vandaveer took the stage, which means that the tall and dark Mark Charles Heidinger and the blond and curvy Rose (wearing a particularly notable pair of cute lace-up wedge espadrilles) began their set.
With Dylan-like phrasing and Tom Waits-like songwriting and Rose's incredible harmonizing, Vandaveer's sound could probably best be called modern folk pop with a heavy does of storytelling in each song.
The audience knew that the show was being recorded, so they put on their listening room behavior, causing Heidinger to note, "It's like a library in here. Somebody should cough or crack their knuckles." A friend leaned over and said, "Yea, a really awesome library." True that.
The songs ran the gamut from light to dark, happy to sad but always heartfelt and well written. With Rose's impressive lungs and his engaging folk troubadour voice, the crowd was mesmerized.
"Like my tie?" he asked, fingering it proudly. "It's local." Apparently on his way to the thrift store, a guy leaning against a bar sized him up and asked if he was in a band. "Yes, I'm a musician," he admitted. The questioner made a sound of disgust.
"So I had to buy a tie to look less..." Heidinger said, trailing away. He looked very un-Richmond like, but very suitably musician-like. We'll say that he looked completely believable when singing, "Peace and love and harmony and all the things that lovers need."
Low Branches closed the show with the elegance of their hushed music, tonight augmented by the oh-so-talented Josh Quarles on cello. The addition of his strings added a beautiful depth of sound to the duo's striking arrangements.
Christina's voice is undeniably unique, the kind that has the audience holding its breath to hear her finish singing a word or phrase.
Matt, who has recently gone from shaggy bearded longhair to a very attractive haircut and face scrape, anchors everything with his guitar and slide playing, drums and backing vocals. I just had to keep staring at him because he looks so different now.
When the show ended, as always to the shy Christina's relief, the audience applauded their approval and many stuck around to let the musicians know how much they'd enjoyed the show. It was practically a musical love fest right there on Foushee Street.
Whew. I'm just glad I got in a really stellar show before Judgement Day arrives.
It may be the end of the world as we know it, but frankly my dear, I feel fine.
I'm presuming she was calling to tell me about the end of the world, but I'll never know since I deleted the message. If I thought there was a hell, I'd be going straight there, I'm quite sure.
My second first of the day was a visit to the new Sound of Music Studio over on Foushee Street for a show. I'd seen bands at the old Broad Street studio, so I was eager to see the new space.
I was even more eager to hear the three bands on the bill: LA's Ferraby Lionheart, DC's Vandaveer and RVA's Low Branches, the only one of the three I'd heard previously. Knowing how amazing they are and that they'd chosen the bill, I knew to expect great things.
The intimate space with its two-floor ceilings and professional equipment provided a cozy and high-tech setting for the show. A grand piano and a couple of lamps softened the serious equipment vibe.
The room was a mix of people I knew and didn't, including some of RVA's best musicians (including one in a "Listen Local" t-shirt). A photographer and videographer did the heavy lifting while I just sat back and enjoyed.
With no fanfare, Ferraby Lionheart took his place and began. His low-key demeanor belied a sure voice and sincere, accessible lyrics.
He told of driving from LA to Texas with a friend and waking to see daybreak in the desert with cacti along the sides of the road, resulting in the song "Under the Texas Sky" and the line "I miss you like the honey jug misses the bear." Come on, you know that feeling, admit it.
His last album "Jack of Hearts" was recorded in Nashville and he played several songs from it including the prophetic "Pocketknife," with the lyrics:
There's nothing stirring in the night
There's no one here but you and I
What will we do with all our time?
I think we made it to the end of the world
At one point, he moved to the piano, saying, "I was figuring I could fiddle around on this thing. It's so big and pretty!" And the songs he played on it were just as big and pretty.
A friend had told me that she had listened to his new CD non-stop the past two weeks and by the end of his set, I could see why. His take on vintage folk pop was a knockout.
After an unusually short break, Vandaveer took the stage, which means that the tall and dark Mark Charles Heidinger and the blond and curvy Rose (wearing a particularly notable pair of cute lace-up wedge espadrilles) began their set.
With Dylan-like phrasing and Tom Waits-like songwriting and Rose's incredible harmonizing, Vandaveer's sound could probably best be called modern folk pop with a heavy does of storytelling in each song.
The audience knew that the show was being recorded, so they put on their listening room behavior, causing Heidinger to note, "It's like a library in here. Somebody should cough or crack their knuckles." A friend leaned over and said, "Yea, a really awesome library." True that.
The songs ran the gamut from light to dark, happy to sad but always heartfelt and well written. With Rose's impressive lungs and his engaging folk troubadour voice, the crowd was mesmerized.
"Like my tie?" he asked, fingering it proudly. "It's local." Apparently on his way to the thrift store, a guy leaning against a bar sized him up and asked if he was in a band. "Yes, I'm a musician," he admitted. The questioner made a sound of disgust.
"So I had to buy a tie to look less..." Heidinger said, trailing away. He looked very un-Richmond like, but very suitably musician-like. We'll say that he looked completely believable when singing, "Peace and love and harmony and all the things that lovers need."
Low Branches closed the show with the elegance of their hushed music, tonight augmented by the oh-so-talented Josh Quarles on cello. The addition of his strings added a beautiful depth of sound to the duo's striking arrangements.
Christina's voice is undeniably unique, the kind that has the audience holding its breath to hear her finish singing a word or phrase.
Matt, who has recently gone from shaggy bearded longhair to a very attractive haircut and face scrape, anchors everything with his guitar and slide playing, drums and backing vocals. I just had to keep staring at him because he looks so different now.
When the show ended, as always to the shy Christina's relief, the audience applauded their approval and many stuck around to let the musicians know how much they'd enjoyed the show. It was practically a musical love fest right there on Foushee Street.
Whew. I'm just glad I got in a really stellar show before Judgement Day arrives.
It may be the end of the world as we know it, but frankly my dear, I feel fine.
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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