SHARING THE SHOWS
The original plan was a three-week hiatus from shows until September 10 (Dancing Bears at the Pearl Street Warehouse). But my Facebook feed had different plans. A free outdoor show that was Metro-accessible. I couldn’t NOT go. After the typical chaos that comes with the first week of classes and a Saturday spent evaluating student writing samples, I was ready to jam out. I pondered driving to the show, but was overruled by the fact that I just didn’t want to, and I couldn’t work my way around that. I’ve become lazy and spoiled by shows that are accessible by public transportation – what can I say? The joke was on me as we were alerted that some thief tried to escape cops by running on the tracks from the metro station at Rosslyn – apparently he made it about a mile and a half to Arlington Cemetery before he was caught. As a result, we were delayed by about a half hour. Good thing I brought TWO books for the trip. I got to the State Theater at about 8:15 (passing by some nice-looking restaurants in a neighborhood I’d never been at before), forty-five minutes after start time. They were in the middle of “Cassidy”; from what I gathered from my research, they had played “The Harder They Come” and “Althea”. They closed their set with “Goin’ Down the Road Feelin’ Bad.” Before I get into the second set, let me share a pet peeve, related to my research in Singles Studies. The State Theatre was charging $12 per PAIR to sit at a table in the area they had set up. What if you wanted to go as an individual? I was going to take a cue from the punks in Repo Man and think, let’s go to the show! And not pay! Of course, those of us with that attitude were relegated to the outside of the barricade and we were literally “dancing in the street,” or more specifically, Park Place. Many were on sidewalks but we took up the street too and occasionally had to move out of the way for slowly moving cars. And security really does get in your face when you try to walk over the barricade after the show to give the lead singer your business card so you can help with writing their website content, which said singer requested. Or so I, uhhhhh, hear. (Looks around). Ummmmmm, yeahhhhhhh… Anywho, a minor vent. The second set started with “Shakedown Street,” which was a nice jam. “Sugaree” followed, then “Scarlet Begonias” and “Fire on the Mountain”. “The Music Never Stopped” as next, which began with a “Deep Elem Blues” tease. When 9:10 rolled around, I was happy to hear the band was wrapping up (again, my inner introvert LOVES early endings to shows, as does my friend Heather, who was texting me from the metal show she was at). They closed with “Truckin’.” My fellow peons on the outside were cool. A young dude named Phil explained his surprise that the band didn’t reference that iconic show from 8/27/72 in Veneta, Oregon, exactly fifty years ago. I had been listening to that show all day at Pete’s suggestion. Two things: 1) I was surprised as well; “Sugaree” was the only song I heard that night from that show; and 2) I was very impressed Phil knew of that show. This music is transcendent. I also got several compliments on my Weather Report T-shirt, which is always a conversation-starter at shows. Cool people included another young spinner named Manny, a dude named Bill who observed Dead & Company only plays “Box of Rain” once per tour, and a guy named Larry who came to visit DC from North Carolina and just happened to find out about this show. Gotta love serendipity. The singer gave a plug for the restaurant next door, Clare and Don’s Beach Shack, which devotes Wednesday nights to Grateful Dead cover bands. That will definitely be a future venture. And I dug this sign: This was a good group. They didn’t rock quite as hard as the Warlocks (they were more of a noodley-Dead style), but Dead is Dead and free is free. I’d see them again.
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I had to scrap just to get off the couch to go to this show. After last night’s show and a picnic in the heat, I only felt capable of switching the controls on my remote. But I was determined. When I told Pete this, he said I was “tough.” I take that as a high compliment coming from him, who goes to shows and hikes with impunity. After getting off the Metro, I strolled through Woodmont Triangle in downtown Bethesda, which is hip on a weeknight but really hoppin’ on a Saturday night, with people dining and looking to get their dance on. Assuming I get tenure, I’m considering Bethesda as a place to buy property. On my way, a kid who didn’t much older than sixteen or seventeen complimented my Dead & Company T-shirt. He had been to Bristow earlier this summer as well. Before I discuss the show itself, I have to comment on the fact that this music transcends generations. I don’t dismiss things like boy bands, disco, or emo, because they do speak to a lot of people. But rock and roll is timeless. A young dude, probably in his early 20s, named Jesse spun around the floor the whole night; while I helped start up the dance party on the floor in front of the stage, I’m sure his spinning is what REALLY got the crowd moving (well, that and fermented hops). He asked me if I had seen the Dead in the 80s. Dude, I was still collecting baseball cards at that age. I felt old. But at least it wasn’t the 60s or 70s; I’d be really worried then. At any rate, I met some interesting folks, as I always do at these shows. A dude named Wright was wearing a Detroit Lightning T-shirt; they’re a cover band out of Santa Fe, New Mexico, just a few hours from El Paso. There was a woman named Karen who asked if you could be a Deadhead without having seen the actual Dead live (it was a genuine question). Of course I told her I didn’t get into them until after Jerry died. And that kid Jesse was super cool. I talked to a nice young couple, Alex and Kate, from Wheaton, which I only know as the place with the nearest Costco to me. And I got to chat with TJ, the lead singer, while the band spent some time doing instrumentals. Of course, the night started out with the dance floor empty and a few of us just bopping our heads. The first set went like so: Deep Elem Blues (I haven’t heard too many Dead tributes do this one, and by that, I mean any Dead tribute) Tennessee Jed Alabama Getaway Promised Land Box of Rain Help on the Way Slipknot Franklin’s Tower Eyes of the World (which featured a very talented teenager playing the trumpet; love this generational trickle-down) Eyes of the World Brown Eyed Women Truckin’ The Music Never Stopped Might as Well During setbreak, I caught up with a friend on the phone while I walked around town trying to find a quick bite to eat. Sadly, the places that looked promising were all sit-down and expensive. I just wanted a quick slice of pizza (the food from the picnic had long since passed through my system), but settled from an egg roll from Mayflower Chinese Restaurant & Carryout. The second set: China Cat Sunflower I Know You Rider Shakedown Street (with a “We Want the Funk” interlude; TJ gave a shoutout to the Chuck Brown fans) Scarlet Begonias (this was probably one of the jammiest versions I’ve ever heard) Fire on the Mountain Bertha (during which a dude named Pete got on bass) Throwing Stones Not Fade Away Foolish Heart (another rarity from Dead tributes) Morning Dew E: Casey Jones (I was expecting “One More Saturday Night,” but this one was just as good, particularly as the tempo increased towards the song’s end) The walk to the Metro wasn’t quite as eventful as trying to navigate to L’Enfant Plaza the previous night, which was fine by me. After heating up and devouring a nice personal pizza (with the selling point “I’m single”), I fell asleep on the couch as an episode of Married with Children played, complete with Chester on my lap. Three shows this week was just what Doctor Concert ordered. As of now, it’ll be at least three weeks before my next one, which may be good as I finalize my tenure packet and start off the school year. But I’ll have the summer’s shows as my soundtrack (G-d bless free downloads).
That first week of meetings before the school year starts in August is my least favorite of the year. After going at an easy pace for the summer, I’m essentially thrown into the deep end of a pool filled with icy water. It stays busy for the next nine months, but it does get easier after that, as I don’t have to deal with all the peacocking and rambling that come from people who are supposed to be brilliant. Anyway, that’s my rant. The Shins show was the reward to come on Friday; this would be my third time seeing them (first was in El Paso with Ellen, second was in Norfolk with Drew/Brometheus). After spending the morning in a meeting rife with ranting, rambling, and drama, followed by an afternoon running around campus trying to do those tasks we must do before class starts (why do they only give us a half-day to do these things), I hopped on the Metro to get to the show. They should L’Enfant Plaza L’Enfant Maze because that’s what it is. After navigating the labyrinth of paths, I was able to make it to Ninth Street, which helped me get to the show. I was met by a long line just before 8, to which my thought was, with my luck, this will be the night a band actually starts on time. But there was an opening act: a group called Joseph, an all-female folk rock band from Portland, Oregon (where my spirit is located). They grooved pretty hard. I’ve reiterated this ad nauseum in previous blogs, but one of the great things about going to shows solo is the ability to meet new people. When I go with others, I’m insulated so I’m not going to be as willing to branch out to talk to strangers, but solo, it’s on. Since moving to DC, I’ve connected with John W (Better Off Dead), Pete (Trey), John S (though this was at Jones Beach during our adventure trying to find an Uber post-show), and now a new friend named Dani. While on Metro, I happened to see a message in a DC-based Facebook group on saying, “Is anyone going to the Shins tonight?” Dani was going with friends, but they bailed. My thought, why the hell not? So despite my wonky Facebook settings that occur outside my house, Dani and I met up in the back of the venue near the risers after Joseph finished their set. We had a good conversation about our educational histories, work, and DC life at large. The show was, as expected, fantastic. This was the 21st anniversary of their debut album, Oh Inverted World, which they played in its entirety, some of which was accompanied by the ladies from Joseph. My memory of how I got into The Shins is a bit hazy, but I think my first time was hearing “New Slang” in Garden State, which I borrowed from the library to watch this weekend. It was nice singing that opening “Ooooooo” with the crowd in unison. After they finished that album, they played a nice mixture of deep cuts from their other albums, my favorite of which was “Phantom Limb,” off my favorite album, Wincing the Night Away, which always gives me a skingasm. “Saint Simon” is second, followed by “Australia,” to which I “pogoed,” then “Mine’s Not a High Horse.” The rest are pretty good. Before “Simple Song,” James Mercer, the lead singer, said, “We’ve got one more,” which usually means two or three. I do love “Sleeping Lessons,” of which I needed about this time last year, during this major transition from COVID. This was a fun evening, and I’m always happy to make new friends. Texting song titles into sentences with Kelly also added to it. Don’t we love social media? Less fun was trying to find L’Enfant Plaza, with some confusing directions from my phone’s map. But I did make it home, and I got this nice picture to remind me of why I choose Metro over driving for these occasions: And the introvert in me does love when shows end early (10:30). Note to every jam band…
Just kidding. No, not really. I don’t have a ton of regrets in life, but the ones I do are musically related. Regret #1: not seeing Rush on their final tour. Regret #2: not having seen Roger Waters “in the flesh” (get it? hahaha). But I’d resolve that one tonight. Much like with the Grateful Dead, I didn’t get into Pink Floyd until they stopped touring extensively. And I’ve seen a few tribute bands, such as The Machine, Brit Floyd, and Australian Pink Floyd. All good in their own ways.
Today was the first day back at school after the summer. It’s always a dive into cold water. Three months of a relaxed pace stopped by the intensive pace of academic talk, although in the case of back-to-school meetings, it’s usually a lot of time spent listening to others hear themselves talk (although writing jokes and snarky comments to myself is therapeutic). The day was set off nicely by the drop of the new Cobra Kai season trailer and the final episode of Better Call Saul, the latter of which was watched at dinnertime. I caught the Metro to Gallery Place (it’s nice to only have to take one line to the venue). On the walk to Capital One Arena, I talked to a Brazilian woman who was visiting her friend in the US and was excited to see Floyd. I also guided them to the venue, being the good ambassador I am. I had seen a Capitals game here (with Ellen) and two Wizards games (with Michael and Pete on separate occasions, with help from Scott), but this would be my first concert. I was met with an array of T-shirts sporting the likes of Waters and Floyd, with some sprinkles of the Dead, Rush, and I even saw an Iron Maiden shirt. During setbreak, I saw a dude wearing a Widespread Panic T-shirt, and we basked in our excitement at the upcoming shows at MGM. Waters went on at 8:30, a half hour after the start time (why did the venue emphasize he’d start PROMPTLY at 8? Of course, when Phish says 8, that usually means 9, so joke’s on us). But he did give announcements counting down to start time, the first of which was met with some jesty-like boos. He started with some selections from The Wall, my least favorite album (it’s actually a good album, just way overplayed and overhyped). But “Another Brick in the Wall” jammed pretty hard, and while I love dancing at most shows, after a day of workshops, it was nice to just sit and enjoy the tunes with everyone else. He also followed it with some of his solo stuff, which I haven’t heard before. “Sheep,” which closed the first set, is my favorite Floyd tune, off my favorite album, Animals. At the top is a slightly blurred picture of the stuffed sheep they used as a prop. Waters is known for his political messages at shows, and he didn’t let up at all. While I don’t agree with his stance on Israel, his left-leaning messages on issues in the US supporting women’s rights and calls to remember Black people killed by police brutality (George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, Ahmaud Arbury) are very much in line with my beliefs. He even started the show by saying, “If you don’t like my politics, you can fuck off to the bar right now.” Works for me. And while I think some of it is a tad heavy-handed, it doesn’t detract from the fact that at the age of 78, he still jams. He played all his standards off Wish You Were Here, The Wall, and Dark Side of the Moon, as well as a new tune, “The Bar,” condensed for show time. I skipped the encores (Wall tunes, with another one called “Two Suns in the Sunset”) so I could beat the crowd out. Besides, Waters was about to pontificate after “Eclipse,” and I’d heard enough of that from Faculty Development Day. Nats fans crowded the train, and they were bummed about a heartbreaking loss to the Chicago Cubs. But someone sneezed, and another person made the joke, “Public transportation is nothing to sneeze at.” I agree. I was happy to start the academic year with a show. With music, I really do feel I’m able to enjoy my work, especially as I spent a few days setting up my courses online, with some Grateful Dead functioning as my soundtrack. Life was good, life is good, and life can be good, as long as I do my part. And music is a great tool to help with that. On September 3, 1977, about nine months before I was born, the Grateful Dead played a show in Englishtown, New Jersey which became a legend among Deadheads. I heard Johnny Mac and Pete talk about their experiences a few times, but I didn’t completely understand why it was such a big deal.
For Days Between (August 1 – August 9, the days between Jerry Garcia’s birthday and the date of his passing), I saw a group called the Englishtown Project was performing, and upon reading their description, I learned about why that show was big. In addition to the Dead, New Riders of the Purple Sage and the Marshall Tucker Band performed sets that night, and this band, in tribute to that show, would play songs from all three groups. Of course, I listened to all four sets (two from the Dead, one from NRPS and Marshall Tucker) because I’m a huge nerd who likes to do research. I was under the impression the band only played songs from that night until Pete informed me when certain songs weren’t played. According to him, the songs from the show they played were “Samson and Delilah” (my new favorite), “Bertha,” “Good Lovin,” Halfstep,” “They Love Each Other” (my least favorite, but I DUG the fast, rockin’ version), and “Friend of the Devil” (which I cross-referenced, and I’m impressed that you knew all those by heart, Pete). There was also “The Music Never Stopped,” which they JAMMED out on hard. Other tunes include “Scarlet Begonias –> Fire on the Mountain,” “Cosmic Charlie,” and a sweet “Ramble on Rose” encore. I had never really listened to NRPS or Marshall Tucker, but I got a good education these past few days. Songs played included “You Never Can Tell” (the singer even referred to the scene from Pulp Fiction where John Travolta and Uma Thurman boogie out to it), “Groupie,” and “Truck Drivin’ Man.” The only songs I know by Marshall Tucker are “Heard it in a Love Song” and “Can’t You See,” the latter of which they nailed. Now, the environment. This was my second time at the Hamilton (the first being the other night for Born Cross-Eyed). It’s a small, intimate venue with a tiny dance floor and reserved seating above it. While I danced, I was apparently in the way of some dude trying to enjoy it from his seat; such dude motioned for me to move. My first reaction was “WTF! It’s a Dead show! People dance here!” But I figured there was no sense in making a fuss, so I just found a different spot. Pete and I danced on the floor during the second set. More history: apparently, the Hamilton used to be a Borders Books. I used to hang out in the Borders in Ramsey, New Jersey when I lived in the New York metro area. I get depressed when bookstores close down (damn Amazon, of which I am an enabler), but it is a nice venue. Plus, I do prefer to support the independent bookstores. This is my last show of the summer before I go back into academeland (I just made up a word), and I’ve felt like one giant id, just going to show after show, dancing up a storm and enjoying domestic travel. But the nine months I work tirelessly helps to fund these shows, so I do have to be grateful. Jerry Garcia’s birthday, August 1, also falls on International Childfree Day, which is a nice happy coincidence. And because I’m childfree by choice and have “off” during the summer, I was able to take a Monday night to see a local Grateful Dead cover band.
I rode the Red Line to the Hamilton (only five stops from my home). The first place was the bathroom. I had to walk down a super-long hallway that reminded me of that classic shot in Goodfellas where Ray Liotta walks Lorraine Bracco through the VIP entrance in the Copacabana (RIP, Mr. Sorvino). When I go to a show solo and don’t know anyone, the first few minutes are always awkward. But once the music starts, it doesn’t matter. And my first time at a venue is fun; this place had a very intricately designed floor and was more intimate than I originally anticipated. The dance floor was too. The setlist consisted of Dead classics. The band opened with “New Speedway Boogie,” which had a nice “Truckin’” tease. At that point, there were about five of us on the dance floor. But as the night went on and the libations continued to flow, more people joined. The audience consisted mostly of older Deadheads, most of whom I suspect toured with the original Grateful Dead and probably knew each other for years from going to DC shows. The nice thing about this scene is there’s a tribe of Deadheads in every year that get to know each other. New Paltz had it, Hampton Roads had it, and DC appears to have it. I saw a few familiar faces I’d seen at other shows and even met a few. Hunter, Ryan, Mickey, who I’d met the prior week at one of the Panic shows, and my favorite, a dude named Joe. This guy was wearing a Kix T-shirt (a glam rock band), and when the band busted out “China Cat,” he quoted “It goes to 11!” He also did that iconic “Freebird” yell before the encore. The highlight of the show for me was the remarkable jam the boys did on “St. Stephen”, part of which I had to send to Maggie (her fav). They also played “He’s Gone” (Johnny Mac’s fav), which is about the death of Mickey Hart’s Dad. Ryan asked me if I knew what the song was about. I mistakenly thought it was Bobby’s Dad, but he was cool about correcting me. I continue to learn Dead lore. During “Tennessee Jed,” I thought I heard a harmonica blaring from the audience. I turned around and saw an elderly gentleman blowing into one, to which I gave him a huge thumbs-up. And I thought Phish had the audience participation thing down; silly me! All in all, a great time, and it’s nice how shows can put things in perspective. I’ve had some feelings of disenchantment going on as they relate to work (nothing too major), but the show did help me to center some of those feelings. Of course, my favorite part, as an introvert, is winding down after the shows are done. I got to see all the Mets and Nats fans coming home from the game (Go Mets! We won!). I then munched out on those Tostitos Mark left for me when we stayed with me for his Phish show at MPP (thanks, Brodyssues!) while finishing Detroit Rock City, that comfort-food flick about kids trying to get to a Kiss concert. |
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