SHARING THE SHOWS
As the pandemic is subsiding, I’m trying to get out of my place as often as possible. Two years of staring at video screens and watching Netflix (the latter of which can be fun) will do that, and at the end of the semester, I figure I’ve made as good an impression as I can, so I owe it to myself to go out. After a dentist’s appointment downtown, I hopped the Silver Line to McLean, Virginia, where I was greeted by the Wegman’s. Anticipating this greeting, I packed one of my reusable shopping bags (go ecoconsciousness!) to place items for when I’d be purchasing. (Note: Wegman’s is evil. You walk in and they pretty much just take your wallet). I did buy a non-perishable item with the understanding I’d be going back for more. I walk back and forth Capital One Center Drive trying to find the entrance to the place until I saw the number. Upon reaching the rooftop, I saw a bunch of corporate types sipping fine hops and discussing what appeared to be financial matters. Very interesting place for a jam band to play. I ordered my fuel for the show, a bratwurst with fries, and it tasted fine, but not worth the $20 I paid (not to self: next time you go, try the Burger Bar at Wegman’s or one of the restaurants nearby). I staked out a spot on the grassy knoll between the bar and the stage, and I met a few heady-looking types named Nan, Bob, Tom, and Nick, all of whom knew the band quite well. Wherever you see a Dead cover band, whether it’s New York, Newport News, western Florida, or the DMV, there’s always a loyal cadre of followers.
The band opened up with Tom Petty’s “You Don’t Know How it Feels” and then launched into the Dead staple “Uncle John’s Band,” which has a funky twist to it, which according to Bob, is this band’s trademark: acoustic with some funk. Other tunes included “Scarlet Begonias”, Peter Tosh’s “Legalize It,” “Sugaree,” “Big Railroad Blues,” Stephen Stills’s “Love the One You’re With,” and they closed the set with a surprise, Dropkick Murphy’s “Shipping Up to Boston.” Bob then informed me that the lead singer used to croon for an AC/DC cover band, which explains some of the screaming. Me likee the fusion. And there was a nice joke: A sandwich walks into a bar, and the bartender says, “We don’t serve food.” There was a break somewhere in those songs, but I forgot to indicate where in my notes. Between the second and third set, I talked to a pair of dudes named Greg and Owen, the latter of whom I moved out from Arizona to move in with the former at his place in West Virginia. I also talked to my friend Jenny, who came from Welcome2DC, a Facebook group I’m in. And to think I’d pondered bouncing early due to the high winds at the rooftop. That being said, talking to them made the weather seem warmer. The third set brought out a mandolin player named Andrew. The final set consisted of:
“Bertha” made a good encore. After my departure, I bought some perishable salads and soups at Wegman’s (good on me for skipping over the pastries, despite an existential struggle not to do so), and enjoyed some Spencer Davis on my headphones for the Metro ride home. The tunes provided a nice beat for the experience of riding the gritty train, a perfect way to relax on the way home.
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I needed this show. On Friday afternoon, I took a break from staring at screens for a virtual conference to go for a jog. When I headed back to my apartment, I was met by police cars, fire trucks, and a police line with that ominous directive, “Do Not Cross.” I was then informed there was an active shooter in the neighborhood. They caught him, but it was a traumatic scene. I was able to get into my place at about 11, but Chester’s usual greeting of “give me treats” soothed me a great deal. So did getting out of Dodge, aka DC, for the night. I’ve written here before about how much I love train travel, and that affinity will never die. I worked on a research article, read, journaled, and stared out at the window, much nicer than bumping and grinding through I-95, a trip I loathe. At any rate, I did get into Penn Station and hopped an Uber down to my Airbnb in the East Village (with these recent attacks on subways, going on there with my carry-on and backpack just screams “Tourist,” even if I’m a veteran of the rails there, and I’ve already had one traumatic experience this weekend. I don’t need another!). After a power nap (made a bit challenging by the noise in the East Village), I walked the two miles up to Madison Square Garden (MSG), passing by Union Square Park, where I used to have lunch when I was a corporate automaton back in my 20s. I grabbed a slice form Mia Pizza on 4th Avenue and Bravo right on 31st Street, as well as a hot dog from a vendor, as per my NYC routine. I walked it off some more, and I always love it when I get to the area and I start seeing Phish shirts and all kinds of wacky costumes, accompanied by the aroma of herbal essence (aka marijuana). When I got to MSG, I saw all kinds of construction around the front; my immediate reaction: “WTF have you done to my beloved Garden!” I would get there, and heads would be hanging out, fingers in the air, chilling, but my new, logical reaction is, “Hey, maybe they’re making it more appealing?”
I walked through the entrance on Eighth Avenue, and made my way up to Section 310, the bridge. It’s a tiny area that overlooks the seats and crowd. Great view, but since we have a glass pane protecting us, I can get paranoid that my phone or wallet will fall over that rail, so I take those items off my person very gingerly. My neighbor was a dude named Jeff, who had driven down from Boston on impulse with his buddy to catch the show. Nice guy, who helped reaffirm my Childfree by Choice position with his complaints about parenthood as being a lot of work and responsibility, and how it keeps him from going to all the shows he wants to (no disrespect to parents reading, but that’s just his position). I intentionally avoided reading the setlists from the previous nights’ shows because I like surprise. It was a four-night run, so by process of elimination, if they were to play “Fluffhead” on Wednesday, they wouldn’t play it tonight. But play it they did, and what an opener! And quite the jam. The following songs comprised the first set: Mike’s Song I Am Hydrogen Weekapaug Groove Simple (my old friend Bruce’s favorite, and the jam of which was the highlight of the night for me) Egg in a Hole The Divided Sky First Tube All in all, a decent first set, pretty old-school; I was hoping they’d fast-forward during Set Two. During setbreak, I caught up with my friend Kelly (with whom I hit shows on 10/20/18 and 7/5/19), who recently moved to Colorado. And another friend Judy, another academic phan, who gives me opportunity to talk shop briefly during these shows. We set a selfie to our friend Ellen, a fellow neuroscientist of Judy’s; I made that connection happen during a show in DC a few years earlier, before it became my home. Set 2 No Men in No Men’s Land (not my favorite, but the jam that followed was killer) Prince Caspian Piper (played at about ¾ tempo, still awesome) Gotta Jibboo I Always Wanted It This Way (meh, but a kickass jam as well) Lonely Trip Walls of the Cave A good show. Not my favorite songs, but they jammed the hell out of them, which hit me right where I needed. The triple encore rocked: Wilson (fun to sing to, and love the crowd-unifying “Wilson” chant) David Bowie (fun to sing to as well, even if their lyrics consist of “David Bowie” and “UB40”) More (this one gave me my skingasm of the night, as we all sang, and closing the four-night run with this song seems to fit where we are as we emerge from this pandemic-induced tunnel) As I walked back to my Airbnb and passed through East Village, I observed college kids and twentysomethings running through the street and thought of those days when my old friends Mario, Nick, Thach, and I would carouse through this neighborhood in search of beer and, well, digits, long before I started identifying as ace. But even at 43, I can still carouse at shows, albeit in moderation, and I appreciate it much more. Sometimes, during jams, I’ll start reflecting on things going on in my life, and I’ve been through some rough stuff this year: having caught Omicron, and now this shooting. But I’ve also been able to enjoy DC and all the shows that have come out, and made some new show buddies (John and Pete, you both rock). So I’m persevering. And I’ve said this before, but music has been my medicine through the joyful and the challenging, and as I approach the end of the school year and prepare to start my tenure application (coming up in the fall!), I’ll be doubling down on that medication, both in-person and through my speakers. Stay safe, folks, and take care of yourselves and your loved ones, whomever they may be! It seems some people will find any reason for a holiday. People my age celebrate a holiday started by a bunch of high school potheads. But, hey, if that gives a band a reason to perform, I’m game. With that, I broke out of my usual weeknight routine of get home from work, cook dinner, watch TV, to head up to Bethesda, only three Metro stops from me. Despite that recent dropping of the federal mask mandate on public transportation, as perpetrated by that Rhodes scholar known as Kathryn Kimball Mizelle, I’d say about 95% of the riders were masked. Go DC! I walked toward Sala Thai on Cornell Avenue, which was empty. Much of the time, restaurants seat solo diners in the back, but tonight, I was seated at the right window (to attract business, maybe? “Hey, SOMEONE likes our food!”). And I did. The spring rolls were a tad dry, but the portion of Pad Thai was incredible. I hadn’t spent much time in Bethesda, but it’s a cool town with some nice shops and restaurants. I also stumbled upon the Bethesda Trolley Trail, which is right next to a bikeshare and will allow one an eight-mile stretch to bike from Bethesda to Rockville (which is now my plan for the afternoon). I met up for a brief chat with my friend Barry, who lives downtown, and we had a nice chat. I walked upstairs to Tommy Joe’s, and was met by the sight of a dude eating a nice juicy cheeseburger at the bar, and I regretted not having come here to eat, but there’s always next time. As the band tuned their instruments, I found an empty table and ordered a Diet Coke. A waiter had brought me an appetizing-looking Philly Cheese steak with waffle fries, and I was tempted to say “yes,” but ultimately, it went to the lady at the table sitting next to me, who I later found out went by the name of Lisa.
The band warmed up with “He’s Gone” (Johnny Mac’s favorite tune), and after tuning once more, started with “Bertha.” At this point, most people were sitting, and I was reminded of all those times Maggie and I would go to shows in Hampton Roads and would get the crowd started dancing. I bopped my head a bit from behind my table. It was interesting to see TVs playing while the notes of “Jack Straw” graced the room. I could hypothetically watch Law and Order: Special Victims Unit and check the score of the Mets-Giants game all while spinning around. As “Sugaree” played, the crowd started moving, and after “Tennessee Jed,” I met Larry, a musician who plays with four bands, including the Jerry Tripsters and Medicated Headsman, a Traffic + Tribute. He introduced me to some cool people, including Lisa, Amy (who sung some backup vocals), her boyfriend (also named Craig, which drew me to this Simpsons clip), a couple of guys named Tim, and a guy named Alan. I can’t remember most of their names, but those interactions helped make my night, and they go to a lot of the local shows in Montgomery County, so I’ll know people when I do solo outings in the future. A few people also liked the Ivy League hat I was wearing, and I spotted four other people wearing the same kind of hat (gotta love DC fashions). The rest of the setlist: Shakedown Street Brown Eyed Women Beat it On Down the Line Truckin’ Deal The Music Never Stopped Set 2 China Cat Sunflower -> I Know You Rider Eyes of the World Not Fade Away New Minglewood Blues Ramble on Rose Scarlet Begonias Throwing Stones Casey Jones I started to “fade away” during “Begonias,” and was tempted to leave, but when “Throwing Stones” came on, I had to stay; it’s always a rockin’ tune. I’m especially glad I stayed for the “Casey” encore; it brought back that skingasm I had when Dead & Company played them at Citi Field on 6/25/16 (my first Dead & Co experience). After some hugs and handslaps with Larry and others on the way out, I made my way home. It would have been easier if the Metro entrance on Wisconsin Avenue southbound hadn’t been closed, but I made it. After some protein-based munchies and Simpsons, I fell out on the couch, Chester on stomach. And today’s a nice day to boot, so I’m hoping I can scrap a bikeshare on my return to Bethesda. Happy National Drug Test Day! It had been nearly two weeks since my last show (these days, that’s a pretty big gap). But the end of the semester is always a challenging time for us professor folk, what with end-of-semester projects and that widespread panic (hahaha) that comes with some students in places of desperation trying to wheedle the highest grade possible without much effort.
For this reason, music is a much-needed medicine, so this show was a great idea. After a day trying to manage the problems that come up in group projects (i.e., mismatched expectations and work ethics of different group members), reaching out to students in trouble, and, more pleasantly, a coaching session for a client in my business, and a virtual faculty awards ceremony that was tedious but did give me an idea for a teaching project, I hopped the Metro to the 9:30 Club. I got off the train to a message from Stephen, who was lured to the show by his old college roommate Drew. I met him at the front of the stage for a few minute, and Drew regaled about how he had met Bob Weir back in the days of the original Dead. I always like hearing those. I glided toward the back where I met Pete and some loud drunk dude who was going on about all the shows he had seen back in the day and the shows he was seeing. I typically find those folks a bit irritating, but at a show, sometimes you just have to smile and nod. I don’t know too many Jerry Garcia Band (JGB) tunes, not having been an old school Deadhead, but I enjoy them just the same. Fortunately, Pete helped me point a few out, such as “Mission in the Rain.” I did know “Cats Under the Stars” (a favorite of mine), “The Harder They Come,” an Old & In the Way tune called “Midnight Moonlight” (which I first heard played by a cover band called The Deadbeats during my New Paltz days). Other highlights included the Dead’s “Eyes of the World” and “Shakedown Street” (which made for a kickass encore). Other covers consisted of “Let the Good Times Roll,” the Beatles’s “Dear Prudence” (my favorite Beatles song and done great justice by JGB, Phish, and Widespread Panic), “The Way You Do The Things You Do,” and finally, Sam Cooke’s “What a Wonderful World.” I love when songs help me make connections with other pop culture items; in this case, the first time I ever heard this song was in this classic scene in National Lampoon’s Animal House. John Belushi could do great things with a simple glance. Shame he died so young. To quote Mr. Mackey, “Drugs are bad, mkay?” Anywho, two highlights from the evening came from dialogue. While I was dancing, a woman in front of me turned around and said, “You’re not my date.” As people on my Facebook page know, I have a soft spot for lame comedy, so later on, when the same woman walked past me to go to the bathroom, I planned to look at her and say, “You’re on my date.” She laughed politely, but the delivery fell a bit flat IMO. Oh well. The best part was when, during “Dear Prudence” a young woman who identified as Miranda looked at my “Grateful for my Students” T-shirt and asked me if I was a teacher. My title is professor, but I always say yes when asked if I’m a teacher. I teach a high class load, and teaching is my lifeblood, even though I do publish. So I’ve earned that right. She wanted to get a picture of the shirt and revealed that she worked for the Department of Education. Having had a challenging week, that moment reminded me of why I do what I do. My only regret is not thinking of giving Miranda this site until after the fact (I was in a groove), but Miranda, if you come across this blog, thank you deeply. Every time I look at U Street, I’m brought back to my 20s, which were spent gallivanting around New York City’s East Village. There’s some nostalgia and wistfulness associated, but I’m glad to be able to appreciate it from the outside. After Pete dropped me off, I indulged in my usual routine of mini-show binging (Season Six of Married with Children). I always have to munch out after a show, but I decided to go with protein-based snacks instead of carb-based ones (the weather’s getting nicer, so I’m feeling the urge). Babybel cheeses and Atkins bars satiate me for sure. While getting to sleep was a challenge, I eventually got there. Thankfully, DC celebrates Emancipation Day on April 16, the day in 1862 which officially abolished slavery in DC. Not only a nice way to kick off a three-day weekend, but it was a shining moment in our history for sure. At any rate, it was nice not to have to go to any of the work meetings that are traditionally held on Fridays and spend the morning blogging to some Dead tunes. And the plan for now is only five days until my next show. And it’s only three stops on the Red Line to Bethesda. Ciao for now! This show was somewhat unplanned, so I didn’t have my pad, so this will be the first show I’ll be reviewing entirely from memory. I went down to Oiliest at Kennedy Center for a Meetup group, something different from the shows I frequent. It was wonderful seeing indie films from local filmmakers and hearing about the creative process going into filmmaking (my former life prior to academe). The night before, I had just happened to see a post about an event from the Wharf Rats at Clyde’s in Chevy Chase, just two Metro stops from where I live (have I mentioned how much I love being able to catch a Metro to a show?). After the film, my FOMO was kicking up, as it’s been lately. So I hopped the Metro from Foggy Bottom to Friendship Heights (two stops I’d never been at before). Clyde’s was about a five-minute walk from the station, and when I walked in, I saw this classic car replica. From there, I followed the sounds of “It Must Have Been the Roses” down a winding staircase and was met with a bunch of “bros” in tuxedos. Deduction: wedding or early prom. After I got my soda, I bopped my head for a bit, and got yanked from my Dead-induced state of bliss by a loud, collective cheer from said bros as UNC battled Duke in March Madness. During “Shakedown Street,” I found my way toward the tiny floor space the venue had set up for dancing. While I can’t recall the exact setlist from the partial show I saw, this is what I remember hearing:
It Must Have Been the Roses Shakedown Street Eyes of the World Jack Straw Crazy Fingers Wharf Rat Round and Round I spoke to a gentleman who indicated this band plays quite a bit in the DMV area, and it was nice to see a local band after all the craziness of these big acts. And free is always good. So is being only two Metro stops away from the venue. As the band closed with “China Cat Sunflower,” I had to rush out to catch my Metro, but it turns out I could have stayed a few more minutes. But I was pretty exhausted from two Meetup groups, writing, grading, an evening walk around Foggy Bottom and the Kennedy Center (during which I caught this BEAUTIFUL pic of the Potomac), the film festival, and dancing. Zoning out to the final season of Seinfeld was the perfect way to close the night. We’ll see you again! |
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April 2024
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