SHARING THE SHOWS
To say I was dragging on Saturday was putting it mildly. But I still managed to write and do the “adulting” items of grocery shopping and laundry. I may have stayed in, but this would be the last show before my forty-day cleanse.
I’ve decided to not hit any live music for forty days. My next show is Drive-By Truckers with Pete on April 27, so it’ll probably be more like forty-seven, but I’ve been going to a lot of shows since moving to DC, and there are plenty of other things to do, so I’d like to explore them, and as much as I love shows, they deplete a lot of my energy. I’ll give deeper reasons on a much longer post once the cleanse ends. I got to the venue at 8:15, and as the opener, Honeyfunk, was setting up, I noticed the venue was way more packed than Friday, which is understandable. Saturday night is “party night” for many and “date night” for others, and what better way to do either than enjoy some music? I had never heard of Honeyfunk, but I was impressed at their covers of 60s and 70s classics. They included: The Thrill is Gone (B.B. King) Son of a Preacher Man (Dusty Springfield) Don’t Think Twice It’s Alright (Bob Dylan) What’s Going On (Marvin Gaye) Black Water (Doobie Brothers) Spinning Wheel (Blood, Sweat & Tears) Chain of Fools (Aretha Franklin) Friend of the Devil (Grateful Dead) Me & Bobby McGee (Janis Joplin) Superstition tease (Stevie Wonder)[1] Rock and Roll (Led Zeppelin)[2] Ramble On (Led Zeppelin) I ran into Bill from the night before, as well as Mike, but I still needed to get away from the crowd, so I went for a nipply walk on the waterfront (I love lenient re-entry policies). And my re-entrance was timed nicely with Great Northern’s start. Below is the setlist: Not Fade Away (an interesting choice for an opener, which I dug) Hard to Handle Cumberland Blues Big River Hey Pocky Way The Harder They Come Loose Lucy Bird Song[3] Eyes of the World[4] Goin’ Down the Road Feeling Bad Sugar Magnolia My energy was zapped, and at 11:30, in the middle of “Eyes,” I decided to call it a night. By that point, the crowd had already dissipated, and the true diehards remained. If I hadn’t partied the night before, I would have stuck it out. I love listening to conversations on the Metro. A female local guided a male tourist through some attractions and gave him her number, and a group of drunken 20somethings argued about who was being dropped off at what house first when they got back to Bethesda (Uber in your condition, kids!). One random observation: a woman sporting a Gypsy Sally’s T-shirt; I’m bummed the club closed down before I moved to DC. Whenever I hear anybody talk about it, I feel like they’re talking about a party I missed. But at least I’m in it now. Though I will be absent from it for the next 40 days. But who knows what’s on the horizon for that time? See you again in late April! Love you folks! [1] Ron Holloway on saxophone, included a “Shakedown Street” tease. [2] Played as a jazz song. [3] “On Broadway” tease by Holloway’s sax [4] Started with a “Drums” tease
0 Comments
One of the perks of my job is spring break. I don’t go down to exotic places like Jamaica, Bali, or Daytona Beach (ha!), but it is nice having down time. I visited my Mom and brother in New York for a few days and spent the last part of it here in DC. And I’d have two nights of shows in a row to cap off this wonderful week. Round 1: The Last Rewind – DC’s Phish Tribute. This would be the second time I’d ever seen any Phish tribute band. The first was Runaway Gin at Richmond’s Broadberry with Mark/Brodysseus, Drew/Brometheus, and a few assorted phans we met there. My memory’s a little hazy around that experience, but I’m thinking I liked this band more. I got there a little after 8 (and I saw a young lady in a tie dye shirt walking with friends from the Metro platform), which always helps me rally. On the way, I was able to read a book I found from one of DC’s many donation bins. Since venues no longer allow backpacks in the venue, reading on the Metro has become challenging on nights I go to shows. Fortunately, this one, Bronx Masquerade, was small enough to fit in my jacket pocket, and it’s a fun read. It showcases voices, poems, and deep inner thoughts from (fictional) students in an inner city high school. I listened to a podcast earlier this week that described “writing as exercise, reading as nutrition.” Any excuse to get my literary vitamins is a good one. I got to the venue at a little after 8:00, where I ran into Kathy, and met her friends Lisa, a high school English teacher from Falls Church, and Bill, who reminds me of my friend Sal in his mannerisms and facial structure. During setbreak, we had some awesome conversation. Topics included: 1) Why we’d rather be cats than humans (the life of a house cat is a pretty awesome one; just ask Chester); 2) Why Kathy and I aren’t festival people (as an introvert, I cherish the moment I get home from the show and just veg for a bit before passing out); and 3) That brief period between when the Beatles recorded Revolver (marking the end of the “early Beatles”) and Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band (thus transitioning into the psychedelic era of the “late Beatles”). Some random events as well: 1)Being offered ‘shrooms by a DC firefighter, and then later being knocked down by him as he flailed about the dance floor; 2)The dude with the “Anti-Complaining Complaining Club” T-shirt; 3)The Stanley Tucci lookalike who asked me to take a picture of him and his group; 4)A guy named Deedee who wore a classic Who T-shirt; 5)A Disco Biscuits shirt written in that funky 70s font (although I can’t get into Bisco, I always appreciate a unique design). Image below. 1)That art show on the wall behind the man, which reminds me of what SCI and Phil Lesh did during their shows at the Capitol Theater. Yet, I do invite anyone to argue that pink image isn't pornographic. Once again, image below. 1)The singer telling the audience before setbreak, “We’ll be back in fifteen minutes, not like when Trey says fifteen minutes and they mean forty-five, we’ll REALLY be back in fifteen.” Yells of “Fuck Trey!” and “Trey’s a liar!” ensued. Ahhhhh, drunken phans.
2)Kathy introducing me to Mike, a cool dude from Reston As the night went on, I started out in an introverted state, but as the music played and the energy flowed, my “extroverted” side came out, as I just shook hands and talked to random people (something I don’t usually do outside of a show setting). Something about the music just “shocks my brain” to get me there. Traveling solo also forces me to do that too. And now, the most important part: the setlist. Set 1 First Tube Golgi Apparatus Sample in a Jar (the first song I ever saw Phish play live) Glide Bathtub Gin Limb by Limb (one of my favorites) Axilla (a headbanger) Lizards Set 2 Gotta Jibboo Tweezer Llama Everything’s Right (another fav; nice to hear a new one too) Maze Mountains in the Mist (to which I had to Google the lyrics) Harry Hood (what a jam!) Encore 2001 Dog Faced Boy (not one of my favs, but a good slow tune to go between two rockers) Rock and Roll Tweezer Reprise For the post-show veg, I watched an episode of Imposters, a dark comedy about con artists that only made it to two seasons on Bravo before becoming a Netflix staple. Chester took his place on my stomach, and I was out like a light. Gotta preserve that energy for Round Two. In my last post, I lamented about becoming a crochety old man. At this show, I learned I have nothing on the guy sitting in the row behind myself, Maggie, and Pete. Phrases that came out of his mouth included “Why do people dance at shows! Just sit the fuck down” and “People need to sit the fuck down.” He walked up to a guy standing about ten rows below and told him to sit because he was blocking his view. I also incurred his wrath when I tried to dance in the aisle so I wouldn’t directly block me. Pete was reasonable in that people who sit in the upper balcony generally want to sit and not dance. Note for the future. So…Maggie came up to DC for this show (surely, you remember her from my Newport News days). After an afternoon of napping (she needed to recuperate from her train ride and I from my busy widespread panic-filled Midterm Week), we headed to Chinatown for dinner. I had been craving Chinese food and sushi, and Wok and Roll (the place I went with Jeremy when we saw Iron Maiden). I had been fasting that day, so my appetite was ravenous enough for me to order a Philly roll, Won Ton soup, and General Tso’s Chicken. I left about half the chicken with the intent to give it to one of the unfortunate homeless folks struggling in DC. Maggie and I killed time at a nearby coffee shop, and I saw a disheveled, bearded dude pushing a shopping cart with clothes and what appeared to be his possessions. On the way out, I saw the cart, but he wasn’t there. I left it there with the hopes he’d see it and enjoy part of a semi-warm meal that night. Maggie and I got to the venue at a bit after 7 and ran into Mark and Sheila (whom you also remember from the Newport News era). We chatted about the folks we know, work, and life in general before splitting off. The Green Line delayed Pete’s arrival, but he got there at about ten to 8. They started at 8:05, which is basically on time by band standards. The only songs I was able to name were “Midnight in Harlem,” “Stand Back” (Allman Brothers cover), “I Walk on Guilded Splinters” (Dr. John cover, played so often by Widespread Panic), “Sugaree” (the GD), and “Bound for Glory.” No matter, though: out of all three times I’ve seen TTB, this was the best show. Maggie agreed with respect to the six she’s been to. It was the last night of the annual six-show DC run, so I figured they’d bring their A+ game. Random notes: 1)When I went to get waters for Maggie and myself, I thought the bartender was about to pour beers based on the packaging. I guess they’re trying to make drinking water seem more badass? (Note: it already is). 1)The Warner Theatre has a TON of history. Pete pointed some of it out, noting that performers as Bob Dylan, Jerry Garcia, and Johnny Cash have played here.
2)At some of these shows, there seems to be a silent rift between the dancers and the sitters. Perhaps a designated dancing area in the upper balcony could solve it? Maybe I’m being quixotic, but one can hope, right? Good times. |
AuthorWrite something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview. Archives
April 2024
Categories |