SHARING THE SHOWS
So tonight was the second show of the school year and the first official show of the Spring 2020 semester (which I count once classes go into session). I started teaching my Blogging course, and one of the reasons I assigned my students, “The Anatomy of a Blog Post,” suggested using subheaders as a way to organize a blog, so I’m going to follow its advice for this post. Keep Your Day Job, Don’t Give It Away I’m typically in a great mood on Fridays, and today was no exception. The Blogging course is structured as a hybrid; we’re scheduled to meet twice a week, on Tuesdays and Thursdays. On Tuesdays, we have a formal lesson. For the Thursday session, I meet with students on an individual basis, but I’m flexible as to when students can come. I met with two, and they got to see this blog. I love when my work integrates with my life, especially with respect to concerts. My lesson to my freshman composition went as follows; this was taken directly from my posting to the Facebook group: So in my composition class yesterday, we were reading Bella DePaulo's "Everything You Know About Single People Is Wrong" article contrasted with some piece from that Brad Wilcox guy about how married people do better yada yada and we looked at rhetorical appeals. Essentially, I guided the class toward the fallacy in Brad's article (one guy did better when he got married, but that's not the case for all people?), while looking at Bella's use of logos in that it makes sense that singles have more friends because they "spread their love" (my exact words), whereas marrieds focus it on one other person. And that's when "Craig Got Real." Any day I can spread that gospel is a good day. It may not win me any popularity contests, but it makes me feel good that I’m doing society a service. And I’m getting paid to do it. Truckin’ to the Show & Good Lovin’ to Cuisine I got out at 4, went home, and took a powernap, despite Chester’s pleadings for me to play. He did surrender, eventually, and I spent part of the nap with Chester using my stomach and chest as a seat. Maggie picked me up at 5:30, and we talked spirituality until we got to the venue. We arrived at 6:30, about a half hour before the venue opened. So we hung out in the vestibule and saw a widespread panic gradually amass, as people were griping, “Why can’t they just open?” “I’m starving!” “I need a beer!” I was looking forward to trying the cuisine at this spot, which used to be a restaurant called the Jewish Mother. Eventually, we got in, and as we had to pay extra to get a table at a restaurant, we were relegated to eating outside. Thanks to a coupon free appetizer given to me by the owner, Maggie and I split some quesadillas with brisket. I then chowed down on a Reuben sandwich, the perfect carboload for the show. We ran into Scott, and his fiance’, Beth, on our way back into the venue, and then saw John, whom we caught up with. Special Guest: A Harken to the Pyramids
Maggie and I agreed that this was the best Special Guest we had seen: a belly dancer named Elmira doing tricks to the sounds of Egyptian music. She lit some prongs on fire, and Maggie and I agreed: “that’s hot.” I then laughed inwardly at my own joke for ten minutes. She also twirled what looked like glowsticks that display what appeared to be hieroglyphics. I have no idea; all I know is it was a unique way to start a show. Mark agreed, and we talked about our various spiritualities: him not cursing out irate motorists on his motorcycle, me not getting in fights with singlists and matrimaniacs on social media (though I still have some work to do in this area). John K That guy did all kinds of stuff on his guitar; used a distortion petal to make it sound like a piano, played folk, soloed a la Jerry. “Dire Wolf” (which Maggie pointed out to be Drew’s song, thinking of the shirt he got in the lot before the Dead & Co show in Bristow in 2017). I almost teared up during “Lazy River Road,” and Mark sent me a text during “Doin’ that Rag” with its annotations from the official Grateful Dead site. John also played “We Can Run But We Can’t Hide,” along with a bunch of other songs I hadn’t heard before. After he exited the stage, Mark showed me his Phish socks (“You Enjoy My Socks”), which he hid from this Dead crowd because apparently, many Deadheads will look at you askance if you go into a Dead-related show wearing Phish gear. Of course, this idea was debunked by the guy wearing a Phish hat, essentially as a “fuck you” to any Deadhead who ranks on Phish. My friend, my friend, don’t take a life (Phishheads will get that joke). At some point, Gary joined us. Last Fair Deal in Virginia Try singing this subheader to how it’s crooned in “Loser”; your life will never be the same again. They opened up with “Deal,” and went into “Unbroken Chain, followed by “Black Throated Wind.” This version of “Tennessee Jed” was the most rockin’ I had ever heard from a cover band, as was “The Music Never Stopped.” At that point, Gary stated, “About time for John K to step in.” John’s ears must have been burning, because that’s exactly what he did. The 90s immediately followed the 60s (“Hard to Handle” à “The Last Time”), and a “Help on the Way à Slipknot” sequence skipped “Franklin’s Tower” and went to “Shakedown.” During “Help,” Maggie’s lower back went out, so she had to step outside. The tightness of the venue was a contributing factor, I’m sure, as my back started feeling slight twinges of pain. Since my injury on Black Friday, I’ve been stretching in the morning, taking hot baths in the evenings, and getting massages once a month). I checked on her during “Shakedown,” and at that point, the set came to a close. We decided to bounce so she could rest. We ran into Wes on the way out; always a good presence. It’s a Long, Long, Long, Long Way to Go Home After grabbing some post-show munchies at the Wawa on Virginia Beach Boulevard, we headed home. We missed the exit for the 264/64 interchange, and ended up going through downtown Norfolk to get home. Seeing as how I conked out almost immediately upon hitting my bed, I was GRATEFUL to get home when I did, even though I wouldn’t have wished Maggie’s injury on her. I’m glad she’s better today.
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So, on Friday, January 10, I came home after the first week of classes, and as I’m conditioned to check my Facebook when I get home, the first thing I saw was a post from CNN about Neil Peart having died three days earlier. My eyes widened and my mouth gaped. Not Neil Peart! Rock stars die all the time, but there was something about Peart’s passing that had me feeling differently than icons like David Bowie, Prince, or Ric Ocasek.
During my post-work jog, I played a nonstop Rush shuffle on my Spotify and began to reflect on my history with this Canadian power trio. In 10th grade, I fell down the rock music rabbit hole, particularly with respect to metal and grunge. Bands like Metallica, Megadeth, Iron Maiden, Nirvana, and Pearl Jam graced my stereo’s speakers, along with the T-shirts I wore. I had picked up Counterparts in Nanuet’s Tower Records, but wasn’t overly impressed. I knew OF Rush, but I hadn’t really listened to this stuff. Seth Katz, the smartest kid in my high school graduating class (at least per GPA), was the only Rush fan I knew. In a conversation with him, he suggested I check out Permanent Waves or Moving Pictures, because they were as heavy as Rush got. During my senior year of high school, I was lucky enough to come under the tutelage of Mr. London, who taught Project Advance English. He helped me channel my love of film into literature, and through comparing Shaw’s version of Pygmalion to the Hollywoodized version of it, My Fair Lady, I turned from slacker into budding academic. At that point, I wanted to have the intellectual energy that Seth did, so I picked up the two albums he had suggested those years earlier. Rush became my studying soundtrack. During my first semester of college, I decided to get my science requirement out of the way, since I pretty much sucked at it. It was around that time that Test for Echo came out, which I bought the day of its release. I remember my roommate, Pete Rosado, becoming more annoyed as I played that album over and over. He was into artists like Blackstreet and Snoop Doggy Dogg, which made from some interesting “dynamics.” I decided to grant him mercy by taking my tapes and Walkman into our dorm’s common study area, along with my geology textbook. Albums like Test for Echo,2112, Moving Picture, and Permanent Waves (the final track of which was a favorite, “Natural Science” as it seemed to go with the curriculum) blared through my headphones as I grinded through plate tectonics. I managed to pull off a B, the highest grade I ever earned in a science course. As the years passed, my collection amassed, and I was introduced to Phish and the Grateful Dead by some members of our fraternity, which has shaped my life in a different way. During college, I became involved in a relationship with a lady named Mary. There were some good times, but ultimately, the relationship became toxic. In 2007, when I finally decided to break it off, Snakes and Arrows was released. That was another album that would repeat on my laptop and iPod and filled the soundtrack of my recovery from that relationship and breakup. That summer, Sal Varriale and I would see Rush at Scranton’s Montage Mountain. It would be my first Rush experience, and it was way different than all the Phish shows I had attended. The crowd was a lot more conservative, but I still dug the vibe. I’d see them five more times after that. Sal and I saw “I Love You Man”, the ultimate bromance, at West Nyack’s Palisades Center, a movie that features two Rush fans. I’m not a drummer, but Neil, you’ve been in an influence in my life on a spiritual level, so I’ll be paying tribute to you over the next few weeks in the following ways:
I’ll be interested to see if local bands (not Rush tributes) attempt to tackle your arrangements. I doubt they can, but we’ll see. You’ve contributed to music, to the world, and to my life in ways you’re definitely smart enough to understand. Thank you! So this week was back to school for me. Classes haven’t started, but we’re in academic mode anyway. For me, that involved setting up my classes on Blackboard and planning my first week’s lessons (my introductory activities for the classes I’ve taught I’ve been a hit, so why fuck with a winner?). I am excited about this new Blogging class I’ll be debuting, which was inspired by this blog.
I was determined not to let this congestion keep me from making it to Zoso; like I said the other night, I’ll sleep when I’m dead. This would make the third show in seven days. I did resolve to make less shows this year, which I posted on Facebook; Xan and Nicole made funny comments; Phish and Stringdusters were last year, so they don’t count. However, Maggie (the Black Dog, as per the picture) helpfully pointed out to me (I am the Walrus, as per the picture) that the Stringdusters went into this year, so that’s half a show. Touche. We drove through a rain-soaked yet traffic-free I-64 to get to the Norva. We heard through a source (*cough* JENN *cough) that the tickets were $12 if you got them at the door, but they were actually $15.50, dammit! Just kidding; love you, Jenn. As we waited for the opener, a Jimi Hendrix tribute called Kiss the Sky, some 90s hits played (Collective Soul’s “Shine” and Alice in Chains’s “Rooster” being among them), bringing me back to adolescence. It got me thinking of this scholarly article (puffs on pipe pretentiously). Maggie had texted me earlier about the opener, saying they may get us wanting to “kiss the sky.” I then laughed at her joke for ten minutes. True story. She then said, “we might go into a purple haze,” at which I laughed for another ten minutes. Also a true story. The band appeared in their 60s garb to interrupt Filter’s complex lyrics, “Hey man nice shot; what a good shot man.” I hadn’t listened to a ton of Hendrix for a long time, but I was 17 when I first got into him. He opened with “Are You Experienced,” a tune I hadn’t heard in a long time. “Spanish Castle Magic,” my favorite Hendrix song was next. The lead singer, channeling Hendrix’s Afro and LSD-infused sweatband, welcomed the group, saying they had come all the way down from New York. New York rockers are some of my favorite people in the world; they’re edgy and they don’t give a f**k. And this dude talked quickly, a feature I love in my fellow Empire Staters. We were transported further into the 60s (Maggie’s line) with tunes like “Hey Joe,” Foxy Lady” (first time I heard this one was in Wayne’s World), “Stone Free,” ‘Fire,” “Little Wing,” “All Along the Watchtower,” “Red House,” and “Purple Haze” (during which he sang, “that bitch put a spell on me” instead of “that girl”). Two observations:
The band closed, and I did my requisite “Special Guest!” yell. During the set break, some classic rock came on, including the Eagles’s “Hotel California” and James Taylor’s “Fire and Rain.” Some drunk dude fist-bumped me (I guess I have one of those faces that says, fist bump me! I’m chill like that!) Finally, the speakers blared the “Bron-Yr-Aur” intro before the boys launched into “Rock and Roll.” “The Wanton Song,” one of my favorites, followed. “The Ocean” and “Ramble On” came before that Cheeto guy’s anthem, “The Immigrant Song.” “Black Dog” was next, and then “Over the Hills and Far Away.” At that point, Maggie and I moved away from the back due to the young women that were yapping during the show (I couldn’t remember where I placed the “Please Stop Talking” card). “Kashmir” followed wah-wah pedal-infused opening. We thought the band had left the stage, but instead, the band went acoustic for a couple of songs with the trippy “That’s the Way” and a mournful “Going to California.” The singer then mentioned it was the third day of their 25th year playing (that’s a pretty damn long time for a band to be together; kudos. As a tribute, they played “The Song Remains the Same” followed by another favorite, “The Rain Song.” I started fading out during “Living Loving Maid,” and we pondered leaving, but once “Moby Dick” came on, I needed to stay. I would have regretting missing the drum solo. “Stairway to Heaven” closed the set, and we decided “Whole Lotta Love” wasn’t that much of a lure to stay since we were both a little tired. The drive home was rain-free; Maggie brought a big bag of Cheetos and some Nutty bars; I’m trying to be “good” after indulging in all that New York food, but I felt the need to save some for my cheat day so I took a Nutty Bar, and I slowly poured some Cheetos into a Ziploc bag, as I said, “Yeah, I need to help you so you don’t have to eat that unhealthy food yourself.” I’m such a good friend! (Looks around). Ummmmm, yeahhhhhh… And now a clip of a Zeppelin parody that really did have me LOTF for ten minutes at the :57 mark. So I’m pretty sure I caught my cold at the Phish show; damn hippies not washing their hands and such. Oh well, it was worth it (though I should consider carrying hand sanitizer to these shows). At any rate, Maggie was congested, so we were both braving the sickness to pop our “Infamous Cherries” in seeing the Infamous Stringdusters for the first time. After a day of subsisting on hot tea and chicken soup, Maggie and I headed to Joe’s Inn in Richmond for preshow chow; we split their Loaded Spaghetti Dinner, and I ate the whole thing, as you can see. No, not really. With all the carbs I’d been taking in over the holidays, I actually couldn’t eat a ton of it. It was still good; not New York good, but I enjoyed.
We headed over to the National, and paid $7 for parking (a little more than the $2 for Norfolk, but way less than the $45 we paid for JRAD in DC). This would be my seventh New Year’s concert. A history: 1999 – 2000 Big Cypress 2000 – 2001 Ominous Seapods – Ray’s Downtown – West Palm Beach, FL 2004 – 2005 Apple Pickers Union – The Oasis – New Paltz, NY 2014 – 2015 Dark Star Orchestra – The Paramount – Huntington, NY 2016 – 2017 Phish – Madison Square Garden – New York, NY 2017 – 2018 Phish – Madison Square Garden – New York, NY I hadn’t been to the National in two years; the last time was when I took Valerie, a woman I was dating, to see Yonder Mountain String Band (11/18/17). All I’ll say is it was a helluva lot more fun going as a singleton with my best bud. Security was carding everybody, and I was flattered; made me feel like a kid again. As I’m obsessed with Freaks and Geeks, it made me think of the episode where the freaks try to get fake IDs to get into a bar. The opener was Cris Jacobs, and he was without a doubt the best Special Guest I’ve seen thus far; his group jammed out hard. One thing I love about the National is that there’s open seating on the second floor (first come, first serve) and I wasn’t feeling like shoving through others on the first floor, so we went up top, all the way, and I truly love that view of the stage. That’ll be my new spot. We did go toward the back so we could dance; I’m thinking of when Drew/Brometheus and I went to see the Pixies there, and my dancing was interrupted by the dude behind me yelling “Sit the fuck down!” Message received. I didn’t know most of the originals from Cris Jacobs or the Stringdusters, but during the Stringdusters’s set, I recognized CCR’s “Bad Moon Rising,” the Grateful Dead’s “Not Fade Away,” the Allman Brothers’s “Jessica,” and Old & In The Way’s “Midnight Moonlight.” Gene Autry’s “20/20 Vision” came on as well (two in one weekend; guess that’s a popular one right now with 2020). Some notable lines: Maggie: We’ll make it till 2060. Me (thinks for a second): Fuck that, we’re making it till 2070 (knocks on his own wooden head). I had started out wanting to preserve my energy by sitting, but as the band kept rocking on, I started spinning in a circle (totally worth it to prolong my cold). Then I sneezed. Maggie: You okay? Me: Yeah, I’ll sleep when I’m dead. After the second set, I repurposed Mark’s joke, “Call the police, because they MURDERED that show,” and then I did that thing where I laugh for ten minutes. The band ended at about a quarter after 1. On our way out, we stopped at Wawa to get gas and water. I reflected a bit on my resolutions. They are:
We got home at about 2:30; I took some NyQuil and passed right out. Overall, Maggie and I agreed that the Stringdusters were awesome, and with no percussion either. Happy New Year! Let’s all make it great! |
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