SHARING THE SHOWS
So you know how sometimes you’re all psyched up to see a band and there’s an opener and the opener’s even better than the main act? Well, I do. I know that very well. New Year’s Eve 2022 was the first time I had gone out on New Year’s since before lockdown. I had ridden an Amtrak from DC to Philadelphia to see moe. with Shana. A group named Eggy opened for them, and I remember being more enthralled with Eggy, whom I’d never heard before. So when I heard they were coming down to DC, I had to make them my March show. I had to rally for this one. The night before had been a late one; I’d gone up to Baltimore to meet with my friends Kevin and Alicia to attend a discussion on Rhaina Cohen’s The Other Significant Others: Reimagining Life with Friendship at the Center, which posits the argument that friendship be given the same status as romance, an argument I wholeheartedly agree with. The talk and company were both amazing, but Thursday was rough. I did manage to give a dynamic lesson to my students, but the rest of the day consisted of recuperation and repeating the mantra, “Gotta rally” so I could psyche up for the show. After pounding a Diet Coke and getting to the venue, I was back in action. A quick chat with a dude named Ryan from Bethesda got me fully charged, and he assured me the Disco Biscuits, a band I had seen a few times when I was younger but just can’t get into now, had improved. I did jog to a recent show of theirs, so I suppose I can open my mind up. Much like with New Potato Caboose and Circles Around the Sun, I don’t know Eggy’s repertoire. But they do a lot of classic rock covers ranging from Pink Floyd to Kiss to ELTON JOHN (I see “Benny and the Jets” in a new light). This evening, they did “Hush,” my favorite Deep Purple cut. And their jams were amazing. On my way out, a dude grabbed me and said, “Bro, I gotta tell you you were my spirit animal tonight!” I was so touched I had the perfectly cogent reply of “Oh, wow, ummm, thanks man.” Looking back, I should’ve gotten his name, but I was hustling to make my two-line Metro trip. Oh well, next time. That was the best compliment I’ve ever received at a show. So what made me his spirit animal for the night? Well, I danced with intensity. And dancing can be a powerful tool to push “talkers” away. After one Phish show, during that long walk down Madison Square Garden’s staircase, a woman with whom I talked handed me a card that said, “Please stop talking” and encouraged me to give it to people who insist of having conversations at the show. Talkers annoy me. A couple behind me just kept going back-and-forth. I didn’t have the card to hand them, so I figured if I can dance intensely, I mean, like “in their faces” intensely, they’d move. I did accidentally, lightly bump into the dude who spilled a drop of his beer on me, but hey, that’s a small price to pay. And they did move. “Gotta dance ‘em out,” was the advice I received from a concertgoer on how to get people out of your space at a small, general admission venue. A New York attitude for sure. Seriously, people, do your yapping on the patio. Thank you for coming to my TED Talk. Anywho, I made a point of cooking up some scrambled eggs post-show. I mean, I was seeing a band called Eggy. It wouldn’t make sense NOT to have some eggs afterwards, right? So now that I’ve graced you with food porn, here are some more pics from the Atlantis’s rooftop. As Ben said, “It’s like going back to 1985.” I would’ve loved to patronize the old 9:30 Club. And that missing parking meter is incredible. “Some drunk must’ve hit it after a show,” I heard someone say. Sounds about right.
And that’s why I Metro to shows. I love DC!
0 Comments
I grew up in the 1990s, otherwise known as the golden era of The Simpsons. Every Thursday night at 7:59 (and then, eventually, Sunday), I’d rush to the television, eager to catch the latest antics of “dumbass Homer.” And, of course, other characters would do their thing. Bart would cause mischief. Lisa would be involved in some sort of cause, whether it be speaking out against a sexist rhetoric-spouting doll or trying to convert everyone to her newfound vegetarianism. And Marge would grumble, “Mmmmmmm…”
But this bit’s shaped a good chunk of my personality. I first saw it at the age of fifteen and pretty much laughed for the same length of time Mr. Burns did. I’ve found laughter to be a healthy therapeutic tool. As I began my career as a professor, I learned that a sizable portion of my job involved helping students manage the stress that came from the projects I assigned. Ironically, said projects, in combination with all their other work, created stress for them that needed to be managed. And I’d have to work to keep their stress from becoming mine. As an empath, I am prone to taking on others’ issues. I’d also became a fan of the Southern rock-style jam band Widespread Panic after having seen them at Richmond, Virginia’s iconic Altria Theater, and a few months later, at Raleigh, North Carolina’s Walnut Creek Pavilion. At one point, I connected that student panic was widespread throughout campus. So there would be Widespread Panic on campus. I posted this joke on Facebook and made I was laughing for ten minutes at said joke, much like Mr. Burns. Eventually, I did this four times per semester: 1) the Add/Drop period at the beginning of the semester; 2) Midterm Week; 3) the week leading up to the last day students could withdraw from classes with a “W” as opposed to an “F”; and 4) Finals Week. It got a lot of “laughing” reactions, as well as a small fanbase of people who looked forward to my Burnsesque antics. For example, why did the mushroom go to the party? Because he was a fungi! Hahahahhahaha…hahahhahahahah (10 minutes later) hahahahhahahahah…hahahahhahahahah (picks self up from floor, wipes tear from eye). So the point of this little ditty is to share ways I cope with stress. It’s important to have interests outside of one’s work, no matter how much you love it. And in academe, we tend to live and breathe our work (myself included). However, my love of The Simpsons and Widespread Panic helps keep me balanced. Once in a while, I’ll pop one of my DVDs in and laugh myself silly. And I’ll have a Widespread Panic show playing on my laptop while I’m writing reports, researching, or planning lessons. So how do you laugh for ten minutes? Well, it’s easy. But you don’t have to. You don’t even have to like Widespread Panic (although I don’t understand why you wouldn’t; I mean how could you not love their version of “Cream Puff War?”). But do find that thing that keeps you from taking work, and life, too seriously. Circles Around the Sun w/Mikaela Davis - The Atlantis - Washington, DC - February 28, 20242/29/2024 The week before spring break is a lot like that little pocket of sun that comes up at the end of a storm. Much welcomed, but there’s still some dreariness to get through. In my case, it’s the intensity of Midterm week. And, thanks to a committee chair who has just the right combination of unorganized and abrasive, I’ll be doing some work over spring break. But at least I’ll get to go out of town for my conference. To break up the pre-spring break week, I would have two firsts. My first time seeing Circles Around the Sun and my first show at DC’s newest venue, The Atlantis. For months, their shows had been sold out through a lottery (Foo Fighters and Drive-By Truckers among the cats), but things have settled down. Pete also introduced me to them through one of his videos, and I dug their groovy instrumentals. As I had one of their shows piping through my headphones, I felt like I was John Travolta strutting down 9th Street a la the end of Staying Alive. My Ivy League hat gave me that extra “jivey” feel. I got to the Atlantis at around 7:30, and it was tiny. The atmosphere reminded me of New York’s Gramercy Theatre, where I saw a late-night performance of The Marcus King Band after a Phish show. I can’t even fathom doing that now. When the hell did I get so old? Mikaela Davis took the stage at 8, and as Pete said, “that harp is part of her.” In combination with the band, she was…magic. Her voice reminds me of Suzanne Vega, and I had an ongoing skingasm through some of her songs, especially when the band got psychedelic. During setbreak, I ran into Ben (9/16/23), who advised me to check out the rooftop of The Atlantis, which he described as “like going back to 1985.” He was right. Very old-school punk club feel to it, much like 9:30 Club. The collage that compromises the wall is neat too, much like Sheila did in her and Mark’s house. I also met a cool young lady named Sam, who works for the National Park Service. She encouraged me to start using my Instagram, which I tried to. But it’s been so long it’s now expired. So I started up a new one, and I’ll post these blogs there. She also recommended a blues artist named Selwyn Birchwood and briefly introduced me to her friend Justine. I love making connections.
Circles Around the Sun took the stage at about 9:00. I knew the songs from having listened to them, but the one I can identify upon first note is “Pete Jive,” my favorite. And the disco balls in background were fitting decorations, a la my aforementioned channeling of Tony Manero. At around 10:45, the show crowded to thin out. I was enjoying myself, but the caffeine from the Diet Dr. Pepper I had pounded preshow was wearing off, and I had two trains to catch. Not to mention a pile of grading that needed a quick turnaround coming my way – the downside of an eight-week course. The upside: the course is over soon, and I’ll be able to focus on other research, service, and professional development projects. Upon my return home, I made a grilled cheese sandwich, fell asleep on the couch with Chester on my lap, woke back up, and fell asleep on the bed, Chester on the other end of it. I enjoy these shows much more when I do them less frequently. But today was rough going – fortunately, I had scheduled a librarian to talk to my first-year writing students about how to find sources, and I just had to chime in every now and again. Thank the Cubans for that coffee I had to start my day. When I first heard about a band called New Potato Caboose, I thought they were a Grateful Dead tribute. And, to be fair, they play Grateful Dead songs. But they mostly playing original songs, and they do a hell of a job. I had put off buying tickets for this show; I’ve been graced with COVID the past two Januarys (and the month isn’t over yet). But when Friday morning came around and I was feeling spunky, I went ahead and made the purchase. New Potato Caboose has been around since the 1980s, and Susan informed me she used to see them at a venue called The Bayou, a venue I’d never heard of. When I shared this with Daryl, he mentioned DC didn’t have a ton of live music in that decade, so the Bayou was “it.” I was grateful (haha) for that historical tidbit. At any rate, the semester’s started back up, so there’s the usual widespread panic that goes with trying to help students situate. I have an additional project: real estate. After thirteen years of bopping around the country, I’m now taking the plunge to buy my first home. So my monthly show couldn’t have come at a better time. My stomach had been giving me problems all day, but a nice tomato soup and grilled cheese seemed to put it at ease. At a little after 7:00, I made my way through the 20ish degree cold to the Metro. I was greeted by Pete and Steve as I made my way to the Hamilton’s basement; their extra ticket allowed me to sit at the table in the “exclusive” section with them (thanks for the upgrade, btw). This show had Special Guest opening (a favorite of Drew, Mark, Gary, and me). Actually, those guests were named Joe Lawlor (guitar) and Kristen Rae Bowden (piano). I was hoping the Caboose would start, but they were a nice opener, very serene. Lawlor’s a great guitar player. The constant chatter of the two couples at the table next to me was a bit annoying, but I was able to enjoy. Pete also spotted a “Friend of the Devil” tease. We could hear the feedback from the amps as the Caboose warmed up their instruments. Mike joked, “Are they starting with “Feedback?” I added, “Yeah, then “We Bid You Goodnight.” Thanks for a great show.” I could hear a “Not Fade Away” tease from the drummer, before they went into one of their originals. I don’t know this band’s repertoire, but I did listen to their newest album, It Ain’t a Thing, on the Metro ride down. So I was able to discern a few of their songs, such as “Shine,” “Sweet Georgia Angel,” and “Brave New World” (I can’t help but think of the Huxley dystopia and the Iron Maiden song). Their brand of jam rock reminded me of Strangefolk, that Vermont quartet I used to see back in my purple-hazed 20s. And now onto covers: “Throwing Stones” (Grateful Dead - perfect for this political climate) “Late in the Evening” (Paul Simon) “Right Place, Wrong Time” (Dr. John) “Give Up the Funk” (Parliament) “Cortez the Killer” (Neil Young – spotted by Pete) “Imagine” (John Lennon) Simply put, this band is amazing. I’ve either been out of town or out of battery when these guys have played. But, this “one show a month” commitment I’ve made has renewed my energy so that I’m able to really enjoy the show like one would enjoy the occasional bacon cheeseburger with fries and a chocolate shake. And, as far as smaller shows, this is the best one I’ve been to in, well, ever. Some random notes: 1)I couldn’t resist photobombing a group picture near me by sticking my head in and flashing a peace sign. The dude next to the picture thought that was hilarious and gave me a fist bump. I took Alan’s sage advice, which he gave me when I did this at the Slayer show in Chicago: “Never apologize for photobombing.” 2)The aroma of marijuana pervaded the dance floor. A bit different from when I used to see shows, but now that it’s legal, c’est la vie… 3)This one is serious. I saw a drunk dude get behind a young lady and grab her waist, to which she flinched. My conclusion: they were not together, and she wasn’t digging it. My alarms went off, and my eyes were on this dude like flies to feces. I was ready to intervene if he were to persist. At one point, his buddy talked to him. I guess he was about to do it again, and the friend knew it. He said, “Don’t do that shit, man.” Good on him for calling him out; he was probably in a better position than I, who might not have come across in as friendly a manner. I remembered that time some guy said “nice tits” to a gal at that Phish show in Merriweather. That thing is not. Fucking. Cool. I’ll post a link to GrooveSafe, that group devoted to stopping unwanted touching at shows. I first saw them at the Umphrey’s McGee show last February, and I will support their mission. That kind of behavior pisses me off to no end. But, I was able to get back to my enjoyment of the show. 4)Now that I’ve vented, something light: our table was under this cool black and white picture of The Ramones. I’m a bit sad I never saw them live, but there are the videos. I will make sure my battery is on 100% the next time I can see these guys. One of the best times I’ve ever had at a show.
I’ve always been a planner. So when it comes to shows, I typically get tickets the day they go on sale. I hadn’t planned on seeing any Phish shows; after all, I saw that Allman Betts show earlier this month with Pete. That would break my “one show per month” rule!
I had planned to leave New York, where I’d been for the holidays, on December 27. But the flooding that pervaded the East Coast ruined that plan; I wasn’t going to risk hydroplaning, especially not with Chester in the car. And when they predicted rain the following day, I remembered Phish was starting their run on the 28th. Due to life circumstances, John and I couldn’t get together for dinner the week prior, so I figured it would be fun to hit a show with him. I could also see Laura, who I’d missed as well. I was able to get the ticket for $109 on Stubhub about seven hours before the show. It saddens me to say that was the first time I’d gotten it for less than face value (the ticket for my first show in ’99 cost around $30). I met Laura (a Single Person at Heart I know from my awesome Community of Single People page) and John (a fellow Single Person at Heart and showgoer at NY Pizza Suprema, home of some real New York-style pizza, where we talked about a variety of topics, such as music and mental health in higher education, and Laura guided us toward one of the few places in Manhattan one can use a bathroom without purchasing anything: the Old Navy on 34th Street. John and I parted ways with Laura so we could get into the show. After going through an airport-style security check (I expected to be strip-searched), we made our way in. Pro-single anecdote: we passed a couple arguing. The woman said, "I didn't wanna fucking see this show! You made me see this fucking show!" They walked behind us pretty much to the ticket-takers and went back and forth. We looked at each other, and I whispered, "Thank God I'm single” to which he nodded. John and I talked near his section; he told me the story about how a dude threw an M80 into the crowd during a Led Zeppelin show at MSG in 1977. I just can’t imagine that now, but I guess that was the time period. We headed to our respective seats, and the first set consisted mostly on old standards. “No Men in No Man’s Land” opened the show. I didn’t care for it at first (nor was I fan of Big Boat) but that song has grown on me recently. “Runaway Jim” and “Bathtub Gin” were the highlights. They appeared to tease “Say It To Me S.A.N.T.O.S” before launching into “Ghost” for the first set. I was a bit bummed, particularly when I learned they closed the show with it; I had exited after the second set to beat the crowd out of MSG. That line going downstairs moves verrrrrrrrrry slowwwwwwwwwwwlyyyyyyyyyyy. I’ll circle back to the beginning of the second set, which opened with two fresh tunes for me, “The Howling” and “Wave of Hope,” which I fell in love with when they played it at MSG on 7/28/23. I had tried to sneak down to John’s section, but just like during the summer shows, security pulled me out between “The Howling.” Oh well. I still enjoyed the view from Section 212. On the train to Secaucus, I talked to a kid named Zack from New Jersey about the show’s highlights. He’d be going to Friday night’s show as well and was ecstatic that he’d gotten to the venue early enough to get a poster before they sold out. I remember when I used to collect merch; these days, I’m all about just enjoying the memories, but it’s like the song goes, “Now the world don’t move to the beat of just one drum, what might be right for you may not be right for some…” It’s 12:32 a.m. on January 1 as I type this from my desk in my DC apartment. On New Year’s Eve 2020 and 2021, we were still on lockdown, and I was perfectly content to chill at home with Chester watching movies and eating junk food. Last year, Shana (who was at the remaining three shows of this run) and I hit moe. in Philadelphia. I consider this show my New Year’s show. And I did go hiking with a Meetup group morning, so I got some social interaction in. But I am running on some caffeine, and I did a double feature (The Hangover and Gung Ho!), so I’m pretty primed to write. Random thoughts:
I’m happy to be starting off 2024 doing two of my favorite things, writing and listening to Phish. I hope y’all are kicking off your New Year doing something you love, whether it’s being at a show, writing, sleeping, whatever. And if not, that’s cool too. Love you folk. Annnnnnnd the Widespread Panic that accompanies the end of the semester is in full swing. I needed a show like the Cookie Monster needs…well, you know. Anywho, after a morning spent advising a student who, when I told him he needed two elective courses, said, “I don’t see a Department Called Electives,” I was ready to get my Allman Brothers fix on, even if it was from the offspring of the original members. I met up with Pete at the Wegman’s by Capital One Hall, which is where I had dinner with Maggie before Jethro Tull and Kasi before Jesus Christ Superstar. I had craving some cold cuts, so I got a hugeass turkey, roast beef, and ham sub for only $10 (my brother had introduced me to their neverending meatball sub several years back). Of course, Wegman’s gets a nice pre-show crowd, and due to the fact that most of us who shop at Wegman’s are yuppie scum, most of the grizzled, bearded types in the café were going to the show. We all migrated to the venue, which is new and pristine. We met up with Pete’s friend Steve by a large Christmas tree before going in.
As for the show, I’ll just say that the voices and instruments seems to have passed down one generation to Devon Allman and Duane Betts. “It’s in the blood” is how Pete concisely put it. The animation on the screen is reminiscent of those shows I used to see at the Beacon Theatre with Rob. I’m providing a link to the setlist, with some thoughts on a few songs. “Little Martha” – The pictures of the Allmans in their younger years, along with the wistful vibe given out by the acoustic guitars made me feel like I was traveling back in time – which I was. This experience was reminiscent of those Beacon shows, and Allman Betts is as close as we’ll get to seeing the original. “No One To Run One With” – The opening guitar lick sounded very similar to the version on their 1994 album, Where It All Begins. “I’m No Angel” – A Gregg Allman tune, I’m sure it was the first song I heard from any Allman. I used to hear it all the time on Q104.3, the classic rock station I had my radio permanently tuned to in my first car, a rusty 1982 Toyota Corolla, which had no air conditioning and a radio that went all the way up to 11. “Pony Boy” and “Magnolia Road” – I’d rarely heard “Pony Boy.” “Magnolia Road” was a new one, which the boys encored the show with. It’s always nice hearing new tunes; it feels fresh. “Come and Go Blues” – This recently became my favorite Allmans tune. I heard it on their 2004 live album as I was grinding through rush hour traffic on Connecticut Avenue on the way back from Costco, and the music just fit the scene. I played it on repeat for a while. “One Way Out” - A number of artists rotated to play with the group; the only one I really knew of was Anders Osborne, who rocked on this tune. The downside of Metroing to the show is coming back at night, particularly on a Tuesday, when service ends at midnight and I have to catch two trains back. After the band finished “Magnolia Road,” I speed-walked to the Metro, where I was greeted by a ten-minute wait and a notification that thanks to police activity, the Silver Line would end at Ballston, a good seven stops from the transfer point at Metro Center. Once at Ballston, it was a fifteen-minute wait for the Orange Line. My anxiety mounted a bit as I anticipated missing the last Red Line train home and having to shell out money for an Uber. Fortunately, I made the second-to-last home, and with only a seven-minute wait. I got home at midnight, which, these days, is late for me. I started getting up at 6:30 a.m. once I remembered how nice it is to start the day early. Fortunately, I had gotten a power nap in after lunch. Waking up at 7:50 this morning without an alarm was a challenge, but that Cuban coffee I got in Tampa got me back to humanity. My stupid ass left my pad at Bistro du Jour last night, so I’m writing this blog from memory. Here goes… Mark came up, but this time, he stayed at the Days Inn up the street from me. Hey, I’ll take a hotel room with a bed over my couch any day if I’m a guest at my own place. And I don’t have to abide by the rules of the cat. Maggie would've followed suit, but she's ill, so this post is dedicated to her. I wish you well, friend! He gave me this lovely gift, and anybody who knows me knows that’s an accurate description :) We rode the Metro down to the Waterfront, walked around, and met Pete, Andrea, Mike, and Daryl at the restaurant. Stories were told: travel in snow, the history of Calvert County, Maryland, shows past. And Mark taught me a new word: portmanteau, a word made by blending two words. Example: cremains: a cremated body which functions as remains.
Mark and I got in at about twenty to eight and made our way toward the front. I usually stay in the back, but since I’m now on the one show per month plan, I was feeling much more energized, so I figured why not be as close as possible. One unique thing about JRAD is how they mash up songs. I’ve hyperlinked the setlist, but for me, the highlight was the Viola Lee Blues/China Cat Sunflower mash-up the boys did. They also teased “Let it Grow” and Talking Heads’s “This Must Be The Place.” Other highlights included “Shakedown Street,” “Throwing Stones,” “Cats Under the Stars,” and “Cumberland Blues,” which is becoming a new favorite, particularly after Daniel Donato encored with it last month at the Pearl Street Warehouse. I even liked their version of “They Love Each Other,” which is my least favorite Dead song; this one had an upbeat rhythm to it. Because I don’t have notes to refer to, and I’m fighting the back end of a cold, this blog is short. But at least there’s an appetizing picture of my preshow mussels at the top. And they were easy to scoop from the shells, so I didn’t have to use my muscles to get my mussels! Hahahhaha…eh? Daniel Donato's Cosmic Country - Pearl Street Warehouse - Washington, DC - October 14, 202310/15/2023 Note: This post is dedicated to the loved ones of Adam Katz, a kid who was beaten to death by guards during a Grateful Dead concert at the Meadowlands Sports Complex in East Rutherford, New Jersey, on October 14, 1989. The guards were never prosecuted, and a civil suit was not successful.
Pete had sent me this article, and I wrote the date in my calendar. Security has gotten better, but in a world where police brutality is overlooked, we still have a problem with officials in authority abusing their power. But, we have to enjoy the little things in life, and that’s where this show came in. For the next twelve months, I’ve committed to no more than one show per month so I can save up money for my future home purchase, as well as expand my horizons. October 2023: Daniel Donato’s Cosmic Country at Pearl Street Warehouse. I had a nice surprise as I got on the subway: my friend, Emily, who’s moved back into northwest DC. She was headed to see Evita at the Shakespeare Theatre Company, a completely different dynamic than Donato. But it has me excited for Jesus Christ Superstar, which I’m attending with my friend Kasi instead of Dark Star Orchestra next Saturday (expanding my horizons). I got to Pearl Street Warehouse at 8:05, and the band was already into a jam. It was a sold-out show, and I’d never seen it this packed before; I was in the back of the venue, near the bar, for most of the first set. I didn’t know any of the songs, but that didn’t stop me from jamming out. I find that a few weeks without a show really recharges that battery. I could feel influences from the Grateful Dead and The Band, and I kept expecting them to bust out “Panama Red,” that old tune by New Riders of the Purple Sage. They teased “Cumberland Blues,” so it was a nice fit that they encored with it. Now, the people: I ran into Steve and Dave, friends of Pete’s, during setbreak, and we talked our show histories: Phish, Widespread Panic, The Allman Brothers, The Grateful Dead (which I didn’t get into until after Jerry died, so I can never fully be a part of those conversations. I also talked to a young lady named Roxanne who traveled from Hanover, Pennsylvania. She was incredulous that I prefer the back of the venue (more room to dance IMHO) and no longer buy merch at shows (I have enough of it already). I guess some weariness is starting to come with my age and new circumstances. I do believe I enjoyed this show more because three weeks had gone by since my last show. When I started this blog back in 2018, I would have joked that it felt like forever (hence the title). But, at this point, I think one show per month is enough. In a sense, it’s been somewhat of a grieving process, letting go of a past concertcentric self. But, I think in the long run, this growth can be a good thing. First: Happy Unmarried and Single Americans Week! The Singlehood Activist that’s been active this week appreciated that pic you see at the top. The third week of September is devoted to recognize us single folk; believe it or not, it started in Ohio in the 1980s, by the Buckeye Singles Council. I’ve used my Facebook and Twitter platforms to educating others about singles-related issues, had an outing at Medium Rare with some cool folks from my favorite Facebook group, Community of Single People, and I even added a Meetup to my usual monthly rotation on the Childfree Singles of the DMV Group.
Sadly, because people are flakes, it ended up being just me and Rolf. But we also have good intellectual discourse. We disagree about singles-related issues (I believe not everybody is meant to be partnered, and singlism is a real problem), but we’re capable of having a productive discussion on the issue. And we do agree on the Childfree by Choice thing, which is most important. We enjoyed some fine Indian cuisine at Masala Art, which is where I first met Pete pre-Trey. For an appetizer, we split some garlic chili Naan, and I tried Bhelpuri for the first time. After we parted ways, I headed to the Pearl Street Warehouse for my third round with the Allman Others Band. The place was close to empty, but the group started at 8:02, exactly two minutes after the start band. I like when groups start at the time they say they’re going to (two minutes is not a big deal in my book). The setlist included: Set One Don’t Want You No More Ain’t My Cross to Bear Statesboro Blues In Memory of Elizabeth Reed Tell the Truth (Eric Clapton) One Way Out Melissa Blue Sky Hoochie Coochie Man Come and Go Blues Southbound (which the singer dedicated to all the native New Yorkers in the room, me included) Woman Across the River Ramblin’ Man (which started with an a capella rendering of the song’s main chorus) Set Two Wasted Words Midnight Rider Jessica Ain’t Wastin’ Time No More (which the singer described as a protest song) Let it Rain (another Clapton tune) Black Hearted Woman (dedicated to the bassist’s first girlfriend) Revival (my favorite of the Allmans’s repertoire, which had me spinning round and round, baby, right round, like a record) Whipping Post Soulshine The show ended right at 11:02, which also made me happy. Jaime Lee Curtis’s call for earlier concerts really spoke to me. The Green and Red Lines were populated by Nationals fans despondent over their loss to the Atlanta Braves. At this point, I have to route for the Nats to lose; they’re competing with my Mets to stay out of last place. It’s kinda sad when that’s the goal you’re rooting for, but that’s where we are. I did drag for parts of the night, but I’m glad I made it. This was Show 5 of 5 in two weeks. At this point, I’m ready to do some other things. As I become more and more engrossed in my Singlehood Crusade (including some new projects), I’m starting to not feel as much of a need for shows, and to be honest, parts of the scene are a bit couples-centric. That’s not to say I won’t continue to rock out, but I’ll start to treat it like chocolate cake: best in small doses. My next one is in three weeks; it should be a nice breather. From that point, I’m on the one show per month plan. November: JRAD with Pete, Maggie, and possibly some other assorted folk I know. December: Allman Betts Family Revival with Pete. For my single brethren reading this page, keep on rockin’ your singlehood, whether it’s for now or forever (thanks, Peter McGraw, for the line). Through my own impulsivity, I’d set up a gauntlet of five shows in two weeks. What was I thinking? was the refrain going through my brain. But I’d committed. And I’d never seen Jerry Tripsters, a Jerry Garcia Band (JGB) cover before, despite having heard about them. And I had this Saturday night free.
My friend Sarah fell ill, so our plans of dancing, making pet noises, and laughing at our own jokes for extended periods of time fell through. She did “miracle” her ticket to Rolf, whom you remember from last week’s Uncle Jesse show. I love Saturdays; I spent the day reading student journals, finalizing lesson plans I’d been putting off all week, reading, and conceptualizing my book on how discourse in cinema perpetuates singles. After that, I took a huge power nap, and yet I still woke up tired. So I pounded a 20-ounce Cherry Coke Zero on the Metro ride to Pearl Street Warehouse. Sometimes you hear a song that gives you such goosebumps (or a “skingasm” as we call in the jamband scene) that you have to play it over and over again. “Eventually,” off the new String Cheese Incident album, was that song. I had in my headphones, playing on repeat, as I walked to the venue. But my musical reverie was interrupted by Kathy; we spotted each other and chatted, as I made a pit stop at Colada to give Rolf his miracle. Once inside, I chatted with Lisa, a fellow Deadhead educator. We discussed our beginning-of-school year adventures between songs and agreed that we teachers need these shows to keep us centered. And Richard was there with his harmonica. I wasn’t all that familiar with JGB’s repertoire until I saw Dark Star Orchestra (DSO) cover a JGB show in Baltimore (3/31/18) when guitarist Rob Eaton couldn’t play with them. It turned me onto them. Some songs played by the Tripsters included:
During setbreak, Rolf and I had a nice intellectual dialectic about the political writings of George Orwell; Down and Out in Paris and London is now on my queue. I also got to talk about my work in Singles Studies and explained why singlism is a societal problem. Of course, “Second That Emotion” interrupted that discourse, and I was there for music. I started to fade at around 11, but told myself I was gonna hang on until 11:30. During that half hour, Kathy, Lisa, and Rolf had tapped out. But Richard was still blowing on that harp, and I was determined to crawl toward that finish line. And they stopped right at 11:30. My orange Dead/Mets tie-dye made me stick out like sore thumb (pardon the cliché) among all the well-dressed club-hoppers pervading the Waterfront. But sometimes it feels good being on the outside; I’ve always prided myself on going against the norm. On the Metro ride, I had a good chat with a dude named Ben, a realtor in the area. I had seen him wearing a Bruce Springsteen shirt at the venue; apparently, he’d been at the Patti Smith show at the Anthem and wanted to do a twofer. I dig that. We talked music and real estate, the latter of which has been a slight obsession of mine recently. As for the former, he’d been to a bunch of shows in New York, as well as that Gathering of the Vibes festival I attended in upstate New York back in 2001 and 2002, during which I had a transcendental experience that led me into education. Solo travel rocks. Once home, I flipped on an episode of Only Murders in the Building, which my friend and colleague Elizabeth delivered a presentation on at the Northeast Modern Language Association last year. I’m looking for the pro-singlehood angle, and all I can say is that Mabel annoys the hell out of me. Perhaps material for my book. We shall see. Show four of five complete. |
AuthorWrite something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview. Archives
February 2024
Categories |