SHARING THE SHOWS
“You seem especially excited this morning,” Chris commented as I was bouncing from room to room in my apartment, doing some last-minute packing and tidying. A fellow educator, she was taking a week out of her summer to explore DC and New York. Well, of course, I was. It was finally July 28, nearly five months after I’d gotten my Phish tickets in the Madison Square Garden (MSG) lottery. That excitement continued toward the point we were at Union Station, and then on the Amtrak to New York City, and then through the subways as we headed to our Airbnb to Astoria (which was the site of several scenes filmed for that 1979 George Burns classic, Going in Style). After checking into our Airbnb, Chris and I indulged in some New York pizza (a requirement for a Big Apple visit) before hopping onto the N train to Manhattan. We parted ways; she to her Manhattan bus tour, me to meet John at Tir Na Nog. When I saw the name, I thought it was Pho or Thai, but the language is Gaelic, and the food is that of an Irish pub. We shared a plate of wings while I caffeinated with a Diet Coke, and I bought us a couple of street dogs, a requirement for when I visit New York. Once in the Garden, I was able to pass the stub John texted me as a real ticket, so we were able to hang for the first few songs. The “Wave of Hope” jam that opened the show was the highlight for me; the rest of the show was good, but that jam – wow! What a skingasm. Other goosebump-inducers included “Plasma,” “More,” “My Soul,” “Ruby Waves,” and “Mountains in the Mist.” Eventually, the real owner of the seat exiled me from the row, and as I grooved in the aisle, the security guard gave a point that read “Back in your seat, peon!” Not wanting to cause a ruckus for the other fans, I just made way back to my regular seat, which had a good view. I gave my blog page to a cool dude named Norman and a nice couple, Erin and Jon. I also met some old friends, Fred and Judy, and a new one, Evan. John and I met up after the show, and while we hoped to get some post-show pizza, the line was way too long for my liking. I settled for a hot dog and a pretzel (the latter which my dumb ass dropped) from a street vendor. We parted ways, and the subway ride back was fun. The N train, which goes directly to Astoria, was out between Times Square and Queensboro Plaza, so I had the fun of transferring from the 7 to the N. I felt like one of those boppers in The Warriors (another 1979 icon), as they tried to navigate their way back from the Bronx’s Van Cortlandt Park to Brooklyn’s Coney Island. That being said, it was fun to come out to play-ee-yayyy! One funny observation: the dude next to me drinking a beer, the can of which was couched in a paper bag. The lady on the other side of me laughed, as I chuckled. Once back in Astoria, I got another slice at Champion’s, and headed back to the Airbnb. Even with all the activity, sleep was elusive, what with the oppressive humidity and hard mattress. All this to say, the Airbnb will still get a five-star review. Saturday, July 29, 2023 “You’re not supposed to sleep much on tour,” I said as we got ready to go to our respective destinations, me to go swimming, Chris to hit the Museum of Modern Art. “Who says?” Chris responded. “Me.” Most people who follow these bands would agree with my statement. Despite my sleep-deprived state, I rode a series of subways to Sunset Park, Brooklyn to meet with Laura and her friend Lisa. Laura has the hook-ups on all the New York City pools, and a swim was much-welcome. After walking around Sunset Park and indulging in some tacos, we parted ways. I caught a power nap and made my way back to MSG. I devoured a street chicken gyro before heading in. I caught up with John before making my way up to my seat. I talked with my neighbors Jon and Erin, who, as it turns out, live in Foggy Bottom. The first set was pretty tame, which was to be expected. In my experience, Saturday shows bring out the popular tunes (“Get Back on the Train,” “Down with Disease,” and “Bug” being prime examples). But “The Dogs” was a nice surprise, and that “Moonage Daydream” closer was intense. I tried to sit with John during the second set, but the rightful owner of the seat sent me back to the 200s. But I was happy with that; the father and son had decided Phish wasn’t the best bonding experience for them, so I had more room to dance. And there were some tight jams. “Fuego” isn’t a tune I care for, but the jam around that had me in a place of ecstasy. So did the one around “2001,” which helped hook me into the shows back in 1999. “Wingsuit” was calming, and the “Santos” closer was Muah! I took off after Santos to avoid the logjam going down the escalator. Plus I’d be getting up early to show Chris Katz’s Deli (“I’ll have what she’s having”). And “Farmhouse” and “First Tube” aren’t favorites of mine, so no harm, no foul. On the ride back, Pete texted me a couple of cool articles around the MSG residency as I listened to last weekend’s Star Lake show, one he was at. The music piped through my headphones as I walked back, and I capped off the night with a pair of Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups and a Gatorade Zero as I watched Five-Star Chef, a culinary show Chris recommended. After the show ended, I was out like a light. Sunday, July 30, 2023 Corned beef and pastrami, a knish, pickles, and a Diet Doc Brown’s Cream Soda: I call it a breakfast of champions when you’re introducing your friend to Katz’s Deli, and she’s hustling to get to Ellis Island. John called it a quadruple bypass special, and I definitely felt some heartburn. After we parted ways, I powernapped and watched Five-Star Chef before flaneuring around Chinatown and Little Italy, where I did dessert for dinner. A small chocolate chip ice cream from the Chinatown Ice Cream Factory (thanks for the rec, John) and a chocolate cannoli from Ferrara Bakery and Café (see below). From there, I met up with John and his friend Roy at MSG, where I learned about a theory going around about a theme for the MSG shows. Seven shows, seven letters from A through G. Friday night’s encore was “Good Times, Bad Times,” and Saturday’s was a double: “Farmhouse” and “First Tube.” By logic, tonight would be three songs starting with “E.” “Esther, Everything’s Right, and Eleanor Rigby?” I surmised. A young lady nearby the row suggested “Emotional Rescue,” a much better choice. The first set consisted of classics: “AC/DC Bag,” “My Friend, My Friend,” “Bathtub Gin,” “Theme From the Bottom,” “Llama,” “Tube,” and “Golgi Appartus.” Other than the amazing “Gin” jam, I was underwhelmed. Upon giving Cam my opinion of that set, and hearing his take (“they played all the classics!”), I realized that the older stuff may be a bit played out for me upon hearing them at countless shows. I just want to hear the newer, more obscure stuff. The second set promised that very thing. “Sigma Oasis” opened. I dig that tune, and the album of the same name, which helped me get through those early days of lockdown. “Life Saving Gun” was a new one to me, and “No Men in No Man’s Land” is beginning to grow on me, particularly as it was accompanied by an intense jam. We mellowed out for “Lonely Trip” and “Frankie Says,” and the intensity gradually climbed for “Gotta Jiboo” and “Light,” one of my favorites. The encore consisted of a vibrant “Suzy Greenberg” and Jimi Hendrix’s “Izabella,” and this is where I think the theme comes in. For Friday night’s encore, we saw the word “Times” twice in “GTBT.” Saturday night was alliterative with the letter “F.” Tonight had two female names for their encores. It could be a coincidence, but I’ll be curious to see what the boys’ll do for the remaining four nights. On the way back, I talked to a cool guy named Cam, who liked my “Weather Report” shirt and subsequently informed me of a jazz fusion group with that name. I checked out their song “Birdland” this morning as I indulged in a cheese omelet from the Tasty Diner, a true New York diner, and I dug it. Thanks, Cam! I always love good recommendations. I also met another cool guy named Kevin French, who jumped into the seat next to me after the couple left (I love badass solos). He drove up all the way from South Philly to introduce his friend to Phish. And another groovy guy named John, who lives just up the street from me in Kensington, Maryland. My energy is now depleted as I type this at Penn Station. But I do love a good Amtrak. And thanks to my chosen profession, I’ll get up whenever the hell I feel like tomorrow. Last summer, I did seven shows, seven nights in a row. This year, three proved to be good enough, even as I struggle to escape the post-concert depression that inevitably accompanies the transition back to reality from Phishland. But the shows will stay with me as I plan my courses for the fall.
Notes I prefer city shows, particularly ones where I can ride the subway. The trip there is a show in itself. I get bored with venues like Bristow, and I could give less of a fuck about Deer Creek or the Gorge. I love learning new things from people. “Weather Report” from Cam, Five-Star Chef from Chris (which I just finished prior to writing this blog), and the Chinatown Ice Cream Factory from John. During setbreak on Sunday night, I overheard a conversation between two friends. One was saying, “Austin is nice if you’re not a middle-aged single man. It’s got stuff for families, but I just think it’s boring.” I was surprised to hear that about Austin (assuming it’s Austin, Texas and not some suburb or small town), but it got me thinking about how grateful I am to be living in DC. I recently became an organizer for a new Childfree group I wrote about the last two posts, and in the first week and a half, we already have 121 members. I’ve definitely found my Childfree Singles tribe, not like in Hampton Roads or El Paso. Yep, I’m stoked to have gotten tenure and to be settling in DC. Now to ramp down even more to save money on shows so it can go toward buying property. With all the carbs and cholesterol I'm taking in, it's a good thing dancing burns off calories, and I'm glad I'm a runner. Here's a picture of the nice view of the East River I took in this morning as the Philly show from 7/25/23 filled my ears.
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The Grateful Allman Band Experience - Pearl Street Warehouse - Washington, DC - July 22, 20237/23/2023 It had been over a month since I’d really gotten down to some live music (Dead & Co with John). Danger Bird with Stephanie was awesome, but it wasn’t a “dancing” event. And once my feet got kickin’, I realized how much I needed it. Over the past few weeks, I’ve started exploring my area (including trips to Fredrick, MD and Leesburg, VA) and writing a ton. I’ve also become an organizer for a meetup for childfree folks (we need our space in a nuclear family-centric world). But the music was on pause (was saving the energy for next weekend’s Phish shows). I figured I’d organize a gathering to go to this particular show. Solo shows are fun, but they can also be fun with cool people. After a lazy Saturday spent binge-watching The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel, I took the Metro down to the Waterfront, where I met up with my new friend Rolf. He told me about his outdoor poetry Meetups, which were inspired by the gatherings of the Dead Poets Society from that titular whimsical Robin Williams classic, which was my favorite movie when I was sixteen (call me a curmudgeon, but now that I’ve been in the classroom a bunch of years, the teacher in me can’t help but point out the problems in Mr. Keating’s pedagogical strategies. That being said, I love the idea, and I’ll look forward to sharing some of my nonfiction. We also met up with Kelly and Mario, a cool couple on the page, and while the place got a bit too crowded for them, I’m still glad to have made their acquaintance and look forward to seeing them at future Meetups. Kelly and Rolf also gave me the downlow on real estate options in Southwest DC if I choose to look there (it’s a lovely area). The opener was a group called the Moran Tripp Band, which also played Dead and Allman tunes, as well as a few I didn’t recognize. They included: Ain’t Wastin’ Time No More (Allman Brothers) Mr. Charlie (Grateful Dead) Dreams (Allman Brothers) In Memory of Elizabeth Reed (Allman Brothers) Franklin’s Tower (Grateful Dead) Althea (Grateful Dead) It was a nice primer for the main act. During the setbreak, Rolf and I talked more about writing and about the childfree life and our struggles to navigate this family-centric world we’re a part of. It’s challenging, but I know I wouldn’t want to be a parent (which brings challenges I wouldn’t want). I had talked to my friend Lucas about this the week prior; if I were forced to be a father, I’d probably be a good one because I am conscientious and meet the responsibilities I’m supposed to (and I tend to go beyond as well). But I wouldn’t be happy, which, in my view, is what’s most important. The show was phenomenal. The band’s organizational strategy appears to be: one to three Dead songs, then Allmans, then Band songs, then back to Dead, then the cycle continues. Here’s the setlist with some of my notes: Brown-Eyed Woman (Grateful Dead) Touch of Grey (Grateful Dead) Statesboro Blues (Allman Brothers) Southbound (Allman Brothers) Midnight Rider (Allman Brothers) – They had teased it in “Statesboro Blues” and “Southbound,” and upon the third tease, I said, “This better be Midnight Rider,” to which the young dude in front of me chuckled and laughed. Ophelia (The Band) – I do like Widespread Panic’s live versions better. Jemimah Surrender (The Band) China Cat Sunflower (Grateful Dead) I Know You Rider (Grateful Dead) Wasted Words (Allman Brothers) The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down (The Band) One More Saturday Night (Grateful Dead) Jessica (Allman Brothers) At about 11:00, the set ended, and the singer encouraged the audience, “Don’t go anywhere! We have more tunes coming up for you!” I hadn’t slept well the night before, and while I danced hard, fist-bumped with strangers, and talked to a few folks, I was drained, so I headed home. The subway ride was packed with drunken Nationals fans, celebrating their 10-1 win over San Francisco (I wasn't too happy about that, as my Mets have been just below the surface this season). The night was capped with the finishing of an episode of Maisel and a few scoops of chocolate Wildgood Ice Cream, a nice plant-based delicacy (thanks to my fellow childfree friend, Laura, for the fantastic recommendation), as I drifted into unconsciousness, Chester planted firmly on my lap. Overall observations:
Now I’m even more psyched for Phish than I was last night (if that was even possible). For all the shows I’ve been to, I don’t recall ever seeing music on the Fourth. And with recent political moves by SCOTUS (Roe v. Wade, affirmative action, loan forgiveness), I haven’t been feeling patriotic in the least. But I’m only hurting myself by staying in. So when Pete informed me of free music, the answer was an obvious, resounding yes. He’d told me about Danger Bird, a Neil Young tribute based in the DMV. And it was free. Typically, I’d have no problem going to this show solo. But, now that I’ve been tenured after 13 years of being a nomad, I’ve decided it’s time to “dig in” to what this area has to offer. And that includes the diverse array of people, with which can come plenty of opportunities for meaningful connections, more so than that of Hampton Roads. As a person who identifies as Childfree by Choice, I face stigma from a world that’s largely centered toward family and procreation. And one of the nice things about the DMV is that no matter who you are, you can find people like you. I recently became an organizer for this group (shout-out to my good friend, Lori, founder of this group and organizer extraordinaire for giving me that opportunity), and I recently went “event-happy,” designing a bunch of them including this one. I mean, seeing music and meeting good childfree folks? Why the hell not? The event ended up consisting of two of us, Steph and myself. After a day of lazing around the apartment, I took the Metro to the Waterfront, where I was greeted by Steph. We had good conversation on the way down (writing, books, la lengua de español), and after a brief walk on the waterfront, we made our way inside. To put it mildly, Danger Bird was fucking amazing. The singer sounds exactly like Neil Young, in his singing AND speaking voices. Songs included classics like “Heart of Gold,” “Old Man,” “Southern Man,” “Like a Hurricane,” “Walk On,” “Mr. Soul,” “Alabama,” “Rocking in the Free World,” and a bunch of others I hadn’t heard. Steph, who isn’t familiar with Neil Young’s repertoire, had heard one I hadn’t, and I spaced on writing the lyrics in my notepad. Side note: she recommended Frank Ocean and Childish Gambino. Despite my proclivity for jam bands, I always love hearing new artists in other genres, and I dug the mystical hip-hop vibe from Childish Gambino. So thank you, Steph! The song that really brought back memories of “Downtown,” off his 1995 Mirror Ball album. This was the first Neil Young album I ever owned, largely due to me falling for “Peace and Love” when I heard it on Q104.3, the classic rock station I had my car radio permanently tuned to when I was seventeen. The second set ended at 8:30; at that point, Steph and I were hankering for some fireworks. Of course, most of the Waterfront was densely populated, but Steph’s sharp thinking got us to a quieter spot at the end of the pier, where we had the best view in the city (at least from my vantage point). Steph and I continued our conversation, and we talked about our life and work goals (which include writing). The dialectic continued as we navigated through the crowd going back to the Metro, which was the most packed I’d ever seen it. A plus: a free ride! Another reason to support public transportation. The Metro was packed wall-to-wall, which brought back memories of me riding the New York City subway during rush hour. When I transferred at Gallery Place, the workers were yelling for people to move toward the far end of the platform if going on the train. It was that chaotic.
When I got home at 10:30, I plopped down on the couch and nodded off as Chester took his spot on my stomach. I was back up at around midnight, at which point Chester jumped off and followed me to the bed. Hell of a Fourth, and it’s even better when meeting cool folks like Steph. More to come! |
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