SHARING THE SHOWS
Rallying up for Round 2 was tough, but when you have to get up for work the next day, and meet with students, and facilitate a presentation, rallying is sort of a requirement. And I was able to talk best practice in having peer review essays like a boss. And I crushed it with helping two of my students. So yeah, I did it like a boss. I did need that lunchtime power nap after those professional accomplishments (I really do consider being able to do those things the morning after a late-night concert an achievement), but even with that, I was barely able to get off the couch (having a cat using your leg as a bed also prevents you from doing that). But fortunately, I had some motivation, and it went by the name of Pete. I admire Pete for his boundless energy; he planned to head down to the Tidal Basin to see the Cherry Blossoms, and I felt a surge of motivation to meet him. So I hopped a packed Blue Line train to the Smithsonian and met up with him near the Thomas Jefferson Memorial, where we walked and talked hiking and concerts, two of our mutually favorite topics. We headed down to the Wharf at around 5, and I was reminded of that rage-inducing drive I took with Maggie to the Anthem for the JRAD show back in 2019, as we were fortunate enough to be walking alongside the rush hour traffic. We met up with his friends Daryl, Mike, and Anna at a quaint French restaurant called Bistro Du Jour. Foodie that I am, I can now say I’ve eaten French food, and apparently, Shepherd’s Pie (which I previously thought to be a British dish) is actually a French one, when made with lamb; the version made with beef is called Cottage Pie. Thank you, Anna! After dinner, I walked with Pete and Daryl to the back entrance, where the royalty who sit in the balcony, enter due to the Anthem’s exclusivity policies. Pete entered at the front with me and the rest of the peons. After scanning my FWB pass, I met up with Stephen, a new friend Mark introduced me to. Due to an accident, he was in a neck brace, so I hugged him gently, and I got to chat with his girlfriend, Zhanneta, and his friend, Daniel, along with another friend named Lisa. Lisa’s a teacher, so we talked some shop and student writing (as if the morning’s peer review workshop wasn’t enough). I headed to the back so I could have some dancing room, and I met up with John, whom I’d met at Pearl Street this past summer. We talked shows and work; apparently, he was in the same state of fatigue I was due to having caught a red-eye flight back from Vegas hours prior, but concertgoing the way we do it is not for the faint of heart. We were gonna power through, habnabit! The jams were awesome, and I thank John for forwarding me the setlist from the show DSO re-enacted, 11/2/85 at the Richmond Coliseum. Side note: there’s a “Spoonful” from the show the night before that I’ve played on repeat a few times. I love the back of the Anthem. So much room to dance. I spun around for a few songs, but I found myself dragging during setbreak, for which is the solution seems to be caffeine. Highlights for me were the high-energy “Let It Grow” closer, the “Althea” jam, and “The Golden Road” post-announcement encore.
I can’t boast enough about that Friends with Benefits program, and I’m surprised more people don’t take advantage of it. Even the bartender, upon serving me my second Diet Pepsi, asked, “What do you actually get from those points?” I explained there’s merch from the 9:30 Club and the Anthem (I might want the 9:30 T-shirt), but with 1,000 points, one can get a free show at the Anthem. The dude next to me gave me a fist-bump as he wished me luck. Dude, you can get one too! Pete and I met up at the second set and decided to hit up the Metro at the L'Enfant Plaza stop, better for two reasons: 1) one stop closer than the Waterfront; and 2) two train lines to choose from. Now if only my map had led us to the right spot. Still, it's nice to be able to chill out on a train than navigate through a parking lot and traffic (I can't reiterate that enough). My first DSO show since 2019 (with Maggie, Mark, and Kevin) was a blast, even if I did drag for parts of it. While I love going to shows solo, it’s always nice seeing and hanging with people I know. And now, on this Saturday, I’ll enjoy my “introverting” time with Chester and some Oscar-winning films in tribute of the Academy Award ceremonies this Sunday. A big shout-out to Maggie, Dan, Mark, Johnny Mac, and anybody from my Hampton Roads crew going to tonight’s Richmond show. I’ll be there in spirit!
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So I’d delivered a very well-received presentation on Journaling for Self-Care (and I even gave passing mention to this blog as an example). What better way to celebrate than with a concert? At about 5:30, I hopped on Metro to Shaw, and I’d wanted some Cajun food after seeing Galactic, but the only place nearby, Creole on 14th, wouldn’t take reservations for one, thus earning them a place on my “wall of shame”, particularly in a city where you see lots of solo diners. Shame, shame, shame, you should know better… Therefore, I wouldn’t even bother going there. At any rate, soul food isn’t the same as Cajun, but it’s Southern (bringing me back to my Virginia days), so I did find a spot near the club called Ooooohs & Ahhhhhs (great food, but it really needs a website). I didn’t’ read the website closely enough, because I learned it was for takeout only. No matter, I got my food and took a spot at a bench by the U Street Metro stop, where I happened upon a group of women that appeared to be a dance troupe. I just listened to their R&B while I ate my grilled catfish, green beans, mac and cheese, and cornbread. A pretty cool ambiance for sure. I had time to kill before the doors opened, so I just bopped down U Street, which was much quieter this evening, save for the groups of people heading to the Lincoln Theater to see Lovett or Leave It, that political comedy troupe. And I thought of that trip Ellen and I took to see Jimmy Herring & John McLaughlin back in 2017. I got into the venue at about 7:30 and met up with Pete at the back of the venue. As a sign of the pandemic declining, the venue put out pitchers of water and cups to keep us hydrated. The show started at 8:15, and I immediately started boogeying. I had seen Railroad Earth twice before (2/19/05 at Mexicali Blues Café, where I met Sal for the first time; and 9/30/16 at the Jefferson Theater with Drew/Brometheus), but I don’t remember them jamming and rocking that hard. Pete (very knowledgeable in all things music) pointed out a few songs I didn’t know: “All Across the Great Divide,” “The Butterfly and the Tree,” “Adding My Voice” (an anti-Trump song), “Mourning Flies,” and “Long Way To Go” (which I did know). Two I certainly knew were Warren Zevon’s classic “Lawyers, Guns, and Money” and the RR original, “Peace on Earth.”
While Pete went outside for setbreak, I had two cool conversations, one with a woman named Jessica, who, despite having her foot in a cast from an injury sustained at String Cheese Incident’s Jamaica event, still made it out. Truly badass. I also chatted briefly with a man named Dan who grew up with Todd Sheaffer, the lead singer. I hope both of you are reading this to see your shout-out! The show ended a little bit after 11 (another nice early ending ), and I Metroed it home. Unfortunately, all that water I drank caught up with me (even after using the facilities at the venue before leaving), and I had a 15-minute wait between Metro trains at the Gallery Place/Chinatown stop. At about two minutes before the Red Line train arrived, a lady tapped her foot loudly and yelled, “Come on already! I gotta pee!” I thought, I feel you. They really do need public bathrooms at the Metro stations. I kept thinking of this scene involving one of my favorite cartoon characters. Despite that, it was a wonderful night. Now to rally up for Round 2 tonight. My shows seem to be happening in waves of late. Two shows in one weekend, a two-week break, another show, a three-week break, a show one weekend, a show the following weekend, two shows the following weekend… I had heard about Galactic but had never seen them. They sound like a total spacey, psychedelic, magic carpet ride a la Steppenwolf or The Byrds. But they’re a high-energy, high-steppin’ New-Orleans style jazz romp, perfect for St. Patrick’s Day weekend. After a Saturday filled with grading and research (last week’s conference revitalized that aspect of Craig), I hopped the H2 bus to the Columbia Heights Best Buy to return an adapter I didn’t need. Only a fifteen-minute wait for it, but have mercy, I felt like I was waitin’ for the bus all day! I hadn’t spent much time in Columbia Heights, a heavily Latinx section of DC. But I had a mission: authentic El Salvadorian food, and I found it in a place called La Molienda, which resembled a dive bar, but had a pupusa with queso that rocked my taste buds and a bastimento (a grilled steak) that made them dance. Ademas, pude practicar mi espanol con una camerera y un patron en el restaurant (translation: also, I got to practice my Spanish with a waitress and a customer in the restaurant). I walked off that food on the way to the Columbia Heights metro and took the Yellow Line a stop to U Street, where I was transplanted back to my 20s. The neighborhood was hopping with youngins sporting their green garb, most of whom had obviously been day drinking since dawn. I developed a wistful smile and a feeling of nostalgia watching them. I’m not meant for that type of debauchery anymore, but it was fun while it lasted. Once in the club, I made sure to have the ticket-taker scan my Friends with Benefits QR Code so I can work toward my free concert tic (God Bless Pete for turning me onto that). Earned almost forty points for attending the show and for getting two diet cokes. The opening act was an energetic brass group out of Chicago called Low Down Dirty Brass Band, which had some nice hip-hop influence. The singer had people waving their hands and practicing certain dance steps, a la the Macarena or the Electric Slide (the latter of which my uncoordinated body just never could grasp, which may be why I choose to engage in that loosey-goosey, Dead-informed dancing as opposed to any type of dance that involves structure). During the setbreak, I refilled my Diet Coke at the bar and started chatting with a gentleman named Jason Amatucci, who had been involved in the production of Widespread Panic’s classic, Panic in the Streets, during which over 100,000 Spreadheads lined the streets of Athens, Georgia to celebrate the release of Light Fuse, Get Away, their first-ever live album and one of my first listening experiences with them. Galactic took the stage at a little after 7:30 (I love when shows start on time). The singer, Anjelika “Jelly” Joseph, has a boisterous energy, and although I only knew one song, “Right On,” I still boogied hard, and throughout the night, found myself inching closer and closer to the stage. They closed their set with the Led Zeppelin classic, “Nobody’s Fault But Mine,” and the show ended at 9. As an introvert who loves concerts, I have to say this: every band should start at 6 and end at 9.
I enjoyed the Metro ride home, including the frenzied, hops-fueled conversation between a group of twenty-something young women, one who had a bunch of shamrocks painted on her face. I also was recognized by a student of mine, whose name I couldn’t place thanks to the fact we’re all wearing masks in the classroom. Out in the wild, unmasked, I can’t quite place students. Upon my return home, I picked up a personal pizza (the exercise that comes with dancing really works up the appetite, no matter what I’ve eaten) and some treats for Chester. I winded down by continuing with Season Five of Married with Children (I still find it hilarious despite the lack of PC). All in all, a great night. Again, all bands should start at 6 and end at 9. So, after a long day of talking Singles Studies, academic job prospects, and writing pedagogy at the Northeast Modern Language Association Conference, I was ready to bang my head. I had originally planned to leave Baltimore right after my presentation, but when I heard about a Metallica tribute band (with a Motley Crue tribute opener) playing after my presentation, I had to extend the stay. For love of rock! See The Happy Bachelor for a link to my blog about the conference as part of the solo outing in Baltimore.
I made the 15-minute walk in 25-degree weather to the venue; the coat check attendant and bartender (who was sporting a Grateful Dead T-shirt with the Washington Capitals logo) were very friendly, which seems to be indicative of Baltimore, a very laid-back, friendly city in contrast to the reserve of DC. Having been up since 5:30 that morning, I caffeinated with a Diet Coke and enjoyed some pretzel bites with cheese before Shout at the Devil, the opener, came up. Before I got into Phish, I was a teenage metalhead. It all started at TAC, the teen-centered camp I started attending the summer before my sophomore year of high school. My bunkmates, a goofy lot, were very into Beavis and Butt-Head impersonations, which influenced me to watch the show. The first time I saw this dumb duo rank the video of Black Sabbath’s “Iron Man” as “cool,” I went to Sam Goody’s and bought a cassette tape that housed Paranoid on one side and Heaven and Hell on the other side. Other “cool” videos of theirs included AC/DC’s “Highway to Hell,” Metallica’s “One,” and Motley Crue’s “Hooligan’s Holiday,” sung by John Carobi during the period in the 90s Vince Neil was choosing booze and drugs over his bandmates. I saved up a bunch of money I had earned delivering papers and bought a bunch of CDs, including Motley Crue’s compilation, Decade of Decadence. I didn’t become obsessed with the Crue the way I had other groups, but when The Dirt launched on Netflix in 2019, I went down a Crue-shaped rabbit hole and burned all their other albums onto my iTunes, which contain some great tunes not known in the mainstream. One such tune was “All in the Name of Rock,” which opened their set. The following songs ensued:
During the transition between bands, we got to hear Ozzy’s “Crazy Train” and AC/DC’s “It’s a Long Way to the Top (If You Wanna Rock ‘n’ Roll),” perfect for this crowd. The venue became more populated as Fade to Black took the stage. Their specialty is MOSTLY old school Metallica (the Black album and those before, not that industrial garbage (no offense to fans of Load and the other 90s albums that came from this quartet), although they could include some tunes from Death Magnetic and Hardwired…to Self-Destruct, which represent a return to their thrash roots. They opened with “Creeping Death,” a staple from Ride the Lightning, and followed with “Wherever I May Roam,” during which I let out one of those primal screams. A mosh pit began to form during “Roam.” I thought about joining in, but I’m not 22 anymore. I was entertained by the crashing of bodies into each other and chose to live vicariously through them. Other tunes included:
I caught an Uber back to my Airbnb, and winded down by watching Heavy Metal Parking Lot, that jumpy indie mini-doc about fans at a Judas Priest concert, followed by part of My Coolest Years: Metalheads, a whimsical, quirky VH1 special that interviewed celebrities who identified as teenage metalheads. I thought of a crazy idea during the Crue set: metal meditation. I meditate with new age music in the morning, but I find headbanging, screaming lyrics, and air guitar are great ways to center the mind and spirit. Perhaps I can design it as one of those Massive Open Online Courses. These shows are also great for nurturing creativity. Thanks for reading; love you all! |
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April 2024
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