SHARING THE SHOWS
Read on if you’re wondering why a crumpled-up cup is the main photo for this post. I’d been looking forward to this evening for quite a while, particularly over the past week. And the last week of classes typically consists of a lot of “widespread panic” among students. But after a day of commenting on student final paper drafts, I was ready for some live music, an antidote to civilization. I met up with Pete at El Rey, a Mexican restaurant/bar, and the moment I walked in, I recognized it as the place Nicole and I met before my Lennon Claypool Delirium show (4/19/19). The service was fast, and my nachos were appropriately packed and greasy. I could have done without the loud group of 20somethings two tables over, but it was a good meal, and I hadn’t seen Pete in a while, so we caught up. He showed me his pictures from the Skull & Roses festival, as well as some West Coast hiking, including Joshua Tree National Park. I was living vicariously through him at that moment (damn work and Chester responsibilities). And after all those images I’ve built up in your head, here are some nachos: We got on line at about 7:20, where the conversation segued into the corporatization of live music venues: Northwell Health at Jones Beach, Wells Fargo Arena, the E! Centre. Gag. At least Hampton Coliseum and Madison Square Garden have their names intact.
We got in and continued the talk in the downstairs section before going up to see the opener, Lydia Loveless. I didn’t know anything about her and thought her name sounded like a folk rock artist, but she was more like angry country alternative. Her voice sounded inspired by Shania Twain and Alanis Morissette, true badass feminist rockers. Drive-By Truckers (DBT) came on promptly at 10:15; I don’t like that they started so late (what can I say? I’ve started to recognize my “early bird” tendencies). But the show was great. The room was packed, though Pete and I managed to find a spacious corner with enough room to move around. Pete and I assisted someone who was about to fall down before security escorted to them to (hopefully) receive medical attention. Other conversations/observations: some drunk dude whispered “I wanna dip out and get a cigarette but I don’t know if I can go for ten minutes.” Spoiler alert: he got his smoke in; I could smell the aroma. Security is tight about the cups we use for the free water. Someone got scolded for pouring the water into a beer cup; it’s supposed to go into a small one. I felt like I was engaged in subterfuge every time I poured my water into that big cup I got for my Diet Coke. I can’t identify most of DBT’s songs, but I heard “Marry Me” and “Steve McQueen.” Their lyrics are very left-leaning, which is quite badass given they’re from Georgia and spent time in Alabama. Southern Rock with a blue twist. I dig. By 12:15, the crowd thinned out and I could dance more easily, but I was spent and was thinking, Wrap it up! But the folks who stayed were into it. From what Pete told me, they went until about 12:40, and it was intense. They even got more political than usual (“Fuck fear!” Patterson Hood yelled. It was nice being at a show after the 48-day fast. Once home, I crashed out pretty easily while Chester claimed my stomach. All in all, a nice night.
0 Comments
Concertgoing has been an integral part of my identity for a long time. It’s something I enjoy, but on a deeper level, it’s also been an elixir for some of the challenges I’ve faced. As a teenager, I had been dealing with some anger and trauma over feeling like I didn’t fit in with the mainstream world (I didn’t, and still don’t, although I can fake it now on some levels). On July 16, 1999, I attended my first Phish show at PNC Bank Arts Center I was transplanted into a world where “everything was alright.” The music gave me multiple skingasms, the people were friendly, and I was just grooving with the music.
For several years, this became a lifestyle. I spent my 20s working for corporate America and then getting a teaching degree, and the shows continued to be a major part of my lifestyle. In my 30s, I moved to the west Texas town of El Paso to earn a Ph.D. Ironically, El Paso didn’t see a lot of the jambands. While I still listened to the music, I felt myself “maturing,” and when I attempted to see Phish at Madison Square Garden for a New Year’s show (12/28/11), I just felt silly. In the meantime, I developed non-musical interests to offset the stress that came with a Ph.D. (running, tennis, hiking in the Franklin and Organ Mountains). And I finished my Ph.D. in four years, the optimal time to do so. Cut to August 2014, when I moved to Hampton, Virginia for my first academic job. I’ll dispel the stereotype that we professor folk just sit around discussing classic literature while we primp our leather patch-adorned tweed blazers and smoke pipes. There’s a lot of tedious, mind-numbing paperwork, not to mention bureaucratic red tape. And the emails. Oh, those emails! So when I met Dave at a social for my apartment and he invited me to see an Allman Brothers tribute band called Skydog at Hoss’s Deli, my answer was a resounding yes! That was the night I met Maggie, Mark, and Gary, who would soon become close friends and show buddies. Maggie and I, in particular, with her friend Russell, would head up to Williamsburg nearly every Friday night to see a local band called Blind and Dirty. Dancing to those tunes was an antidote to the stress I was dealing with at work, and thanks to the shows, I developed this blog, which led me to establish a regular writing practice, which, in turn, led me to publish my book, How to be a Happy Bachelor. And it helped me keep balance, which I’m pretty sure led me to getting promoted to Associate Professor (I remember spending many late nights in my office putting together the binder I needed to get this promotion, the sounds of Phish, the Dead, String Cheese Incident, and Lettuce, among others, providing the soundtrack). Cut to August 2021. We’d spent nearly a year and a half in lockdown, and I’d moved to Washington, DC for a better job opportunity. As an introvert, I was one of those people who, when they told us to “stay home,” thought, what’s the catch? While I did some exploring of my area outside, I felt isolated; I was in a brand new city, and my outlets for meeting people were nonexistent. Overtime, this isolation exacerbated my anxiety. Then, on July 31, 2021, I saw a Grateful Dead tribute called Better Off Dead at the Pearl Street Warehouse. As the music played, I danced, and after a few songs, I felt like Bart Simpson when he got his soul back. I even met a cool dude named John, who’d I hang with at a few other shows. As shows continued their return, I went down a huge rabbit hole of show after show. Pete, whom you’ve seen a lot of on this blog, has become my best show buddy here. The fact that I only have to take a subway to get to places like the Anthem and the 9:30 Club only adds to their appeal. There was that five-night run of Widespread Panic shows at NYC’s famed Beacon Theater bookended by those Phish shows in Philly and Jones Beach. And two separate overnight trips to NYC to see Phish and Phil Lesh. And the trip to Philly for NYE to see moe. with my new friend Shana. Eventually, going to all those shows felt more like a job. There wasn’t an exact turning point, but the feeling was gradual. I realized it when I had to miss a Greensky Bluegrass show due to catching COVID and, while I was a tad bummed, my sadness level was at a two out of ten. At that point, I decided to go for a period without shows, sort of like Lent. I’m not Catholic, but I do like the idea of giving something up for a period of time (I did it one year with pasta, another with chocolate). Pete and I had already gotten tickets for the Drive-By Truckers show for April 29, and there was the Great Northern – out of DC show March 11. I figured 4/20 would be the ending point, and maybe I could squeeze in a free/cheap show between that point and Drive-By Truckers. So from this point on, I’ll catalogue the things I do on the nights I actively avoid shows. March 18 Dancing Bears, a regional Dead tribute, played at the Anthem. I could have gone to that one, but 9 p.m. is a bit late for me these days, and since Great Northern (a band I frankly like better), was playing, I decided to forgo this one. On this evening, I went to a Meetup for Childfree (as opposed to childless) Singles in the DMV area which I organized. We went to Donsak Thai, a new Thai restaurant in Woodley Park. It was scheduled for two hours, but we were done in one. We had good conversation, but everybody was ready to go after dinner (Chris Rock was right: we single folk tend to finish our food quickly. We don’t like to just lollygag around, wasting our time with dessert and coffee). And as an introvert, I love it. Sometimes, conversations just tend to go on and on with large groups. After dinner, I watched a movie called Butter, which had a good message about being true to who you are (even if the characters were a bit thinly drawn). And (spoiler alert) the “romantic subplot” ended with the protagonist and romantic interest being friends, which is always a plus in my book. The next morning, I was up at 8 a.m. If I’d gone to that Dancing Bears show, I would’ve been up until about 2:30 and not gotten up until about 10, or if I’d gotten up at 8, I’d be spent. But I was full of energy. I had planned on hiking with a Meetup group, but when I saw it was 28 degrees out, I passed. But I did some chores around the house and wrote a bunch. March 24 Today, I had the pleasure of traveling to Niagra Falls, NY to present at the National Modern Language Association Conference (NeMLA). In this case, it was a study I helped conduct on how singles actually thrived during COVID-19. Last year, I followed my presentation with Shout at the Devil and Fade to Black (Motley Crue and Metallica tribute bands, respectively) at the Baltimore Soundstage. I love to “collect” new venues, and the phrase, “It doesn’t count if it’s in a different area code” echoed through my mind. But…I wanted to stick to the plan. I had a great day at the conference, mentoring a young job-seeker, attending two enlightening talks, giving one, making connections with my fellow presenters, and having dinner with my friend/co-organizer Elizabeth at the famed Anchor Bar where I enjoyed a beef on weck with a side of fries and wings, as well as some deep conversation around Singles Studies (conversation I treasure). Had I opted for one of the shows, I would have felt rushed during dinner, plus Ubers going to and from them would have been expensive. I was happy to get back to my Airbnb at 9:30 and chill out with some Netflix. Conferences and shows are both exhausting. Here were my options: 1) Sophistafunk at Buffalo Iron Works – This is a funk/hip-hop group. 2) Unplugged at The Town Ballroom – This Buffalo-based group plays acoustic versions of 90s hits from artists like Pearl Jam, Alanis Morissette, and Alice in Chains. I listened to them on YouTube and concluded that Katy Perry and Lady Gaga don’t really fall into what they promise. 3) Classic Stones Live at the Riviera – All the way out in Totawanda? I dig the Stones, but not enough to head all the way out there. 4) Scarlet Begonias at the McGarret – The name speaks for itself. This was tough. But my decision was made when I saw them on YouTube. They played their titular song competently enough, but they paled in comparison to On the Bus, Great Northern, Last Fair Deal, Suggesting Rhythm, and of course, Tampa’s Uncle John’s Band. And it would have been a 35-minute Uber ride each way, and I learned Ubers are hard to get here (two cancelled on me just to take me from the Convention Center to my Airbnb). And it’s not like I’ve never seen a Dead cover band before. I was glad to have kept it simple, and it was nice being able to get back to my Airbnb at 9:30 and mini-binge watch (two episodes) of Netflix’s You, that dark show about a love-obsessed serial killer. A good way to wind down. April 1 Ahhhh, April Fool’s Day, the day I change my relationship status on Facebook to “In a Relationship” and then laugh about it. On this particular April Fool’s Day, a Dead cover band called the Wharf Rats was playing at the Barking Dog in Bethesda. This is actually a hot dog restaurant, so having a hot dog between sets might have been nice. But, instead, I binged on Daisy Jones and the Six, which had a lot of good music in itself. But more importantly, I was able to get up early the following morning with no struggle to go on a hike with a Meetup group. We hit Dumbarton Oaks Garden in the Georgetown area; while not an intense hike, there was still some great scenery, and I had good conversation with some cool folks. Had I been partying at the show, getting up and getting down there would have been a far greater challenge. April 16 Today is Emancipation Day, a DC holiday that celebrates the day Washington, DC abolished slavery (April 16, 1862). Normally, a show would have added to the three-day weekend, and I think one of the local Dead cover bands played at some place around here, but as I’m writing this, I’m just not motivated to do so. However, I did a little pang of dopamine last night. As I was writing a personal essay, I happened to glance on YouTube (I know, a distraction) and I saw that Phish was cool enough to place their set openers from their Seattle shows on. I clicked, and “A Wave of Hope” filled my laptop’s speakers. I found myself dancing and spinning around my workspace; I find there are benefits to doing that, such as not having to box anyone out of your space like you would at a show. I was looking forward to seeing Phish at MSG this summer, but now that excitement is tenfold. April 23, 2023 As I write this, I’m on Day 43 of my 40-day fast. On Thursday, April 20, the Wharf Rats played at a Rockville venue called Hank Dietle’s Tavern, a place I have yet to frequent. But, it was Day 40, and it would have been a shame to break the streak on the last day. Besides, I was giving a work-related presentation the next day, and while I have presented the morning after a concert on several occasions, it was nice to just chill out the night before. The talk went well. Last night, Stealing Liberty played a show at Silver Strings in Silver Spring. I didn’t feel compelled to go, especially since I have Drive-By Truckers with Pete planned for next Saturday. To bookend with another Simpsons reference, It felt like the final scene in Duffless, the episode where Homer gives up beer for thirty days. At the end of it, rather than breaking his “fast” with a trip to Moe’s, he elects to spend the time with Marge. I felt the same way; I can go to a show anytime, but tonight, I just feel like chilling out at home. Friday, May 5 is also Get the Led Out, a Led Zeppelin tribute I’ve heard of but never seen. And as a new measure, with a few exceptions, I’m not going to see a show more than two weekends in a row. Exceptions may be made for the summer or for my top three groups: Phish, Widespread Panic, String Cheese Incident. But this afternoon, I was able to hike a section of Rock Creek Park with a Meetup group I hadn’t hung with before. And I wasn’t weary from the night before. Overall Reflections This fast has been good for me. I may just do it every year. Since the fast started, I haven’t felt compelled to go to every single Dead cover band (and there are many in the DC area). They’re enjoyable, and a couple of them do stand out (On the Bus, Suggesting Rhythm, Last Fair Deal, Uncle John’s Band) but after a while, they start to blur together. And why would I want to go to every single Dead cover band when I can preserve my energy for larger acts once in a while (Drive-By Truckers, for example)? And the shows from the real Dead are fun to listen to. In the time of my fast, I’ve started writing a weekly movie review of a pro-singlehood flick; it channels my love of writing, movies, and Singles Studies (I used to write movie reviews for my junior high school newspaper). I’ve also been doing quite a bit of hiking and met some new people in local Meetup groups for hikes. And it felt good saying no to some shows; as fun as they are, planning around them can be constricting sometimes. I will be going to shows again. But I have a more centered attitude post-fast. We’ll see how it develops through future posts. April 28, 2023 It’s Friday. I’m looking forward to Drive-By Truckers tomorrow night! And it’s been a week with widespread panic on campus, so the timing couldn’t be more perfect. To say I was dragging on Saturday was putting it mildly. But I still managed to write and do the “adulting” items of grocery shopping and laundry. I may have stayed in, but this would be the last show before my forty-day cleanse.
I’ve decided to not hit any live music for forty days. My next show is Drive-By Truckers with Pete on April 27, so it’ll probably be more like forty-seven, but I’ve been going to a lot of shows since moving to DC, and there are plenty of other things to do, so I’d like to explore them, and as much as I love shows, they deplete a lot of my energy. I’ll give deeper reasons on a much longer post once the cleanse ends. I got to the venue at 8:15, and as the opener, Honeyfunk, was setting up, I noticed the venue was way more packed than Friday, which is understandable. Saturday night is “party night” for many and “date night” for others, and what better way to do either than enjoy some music? I had never heard of Honeyfunk, but I was impressed at their covers of 60s and 70s classics. They included: The Thrill is Gone (B.B. King) Son of a Preacher Man (Dusty Springfield) Don’t Think Twice It’s Alright (Bob Dylan) What’s Going On (Marvin Gaye) Black Water (Doobie Brothers) Spinning Wheel (Blood, Sweat & Tears) Chain of Fools (Aretha Franklin) Friend of the Devil (Grateful Dead) Me & Bobby McGee (Janis Joplin) Superstition tease (Stevie Wonder)[1] Rock and Roll (Led Zeppelin)[2] Ramble On (Led Zeppelin) I ran into Bill from the night before, as well as Mike, but I still needed to get away from the crowd, so I went for a nipply walk on the waterfront (I love lenient re-entry policies). And my re-entrance was timed nicely with Great Northern’s start. Below is the setlist: Not Fade Away (an interesting choice for an opener, which I dug) Hard to Handle Cumberland Blues Big River Hey Pocky Way The Harder They Come Loose Lucy Bird Song[3] Eyes of the World[4] Goin’ Down the Road Feeling Bad Sugar Magnolia My energy was zapped, and at 11:30, in the middle of “Eyes,” I decided to call it a night. By that point, the crowd had already dissipated, and the true diehards remained. If I hadn’t partied the night before, I would have stuck it out. I love listening to conversations on the Metro. A female local guided a male tourist through some attractions and gave him her number, and a group of drunken 20somethings argued about who was being dropped off at what house first when they got back to Bethesda (Uber in your condition, kids!). One random observation: a woman sporting a Gypsy Sally’s T-shirt; I’m bummed the club closed down before I moved to DC. Whenever I hear anybody talk about it, I feel like they’re talking about a party I missed. But at least I’m in it now. Though I will be absent from it for the next 40 days. But who knows what’s on the horizon for that time? See you again in late April! Love you folks! [1] Ron Holloway on saxophone, included a “Shakedown Street” tease. [2] Played as a jazz song. [3] “On Broadway” tease by Holloway’s sax [4] Started with a “Drums” tease One of the perks of my job is spring break. I don’t go down to exotic places like Jamaica, Bali, or Daytona Beach (ha!), but it is nice having down time. I visited my Mom and brother in New York for a few days and spent the last part of it here in DC. And I’d have two nights of shows in a row to cap off this wonderful week. Round 1: The Last Rewind – DC’s Phish Tribute. This would be the second time I’d ever seen any Phish tribute band. The first was Runaway Gin at Richmond’s Broadberry with Mark/Brodysseus, Drew/Brometheus, and a few assorted phans we met there. My memory’s a little hazy around that experience, but I’m thinking I liked this band more. I got there a little after 8 (and I saw a young lady in a tie dye shirt walking with friends from the Metro platform), which always helps me rally. On the way, I was able to read a book I found from one of DC’s many donation bins. Since venues no longer allow backpacks in the venue, reading on the Metro has become challenging on nights I go to shows. Fortunately, this one, Bronx Masquerade, was small enough to fit in my jacket pocket, and it’s a fun read. It showcases voices, poems, and deep inner thoughts from (fictional) students in an inner city high school. I listened to a podcast earlier this week that described “writing as exercise, reading as nutrition.” Any excuse to get my literary vitamins is a good one. I got to the venue at a little after 8:00, where I ran into Kathy, and met her friends Lisa, a high school English teacher from Falls Church, and Bill, who reminds me of my friend Sal in his mannerisms and facial structure. During setbreak, we had some awesome conversation. Topics included: 1) Why we’d rather be cats than humans (the life of a house cat is a pretty awesome one; just ask Chester); 2) Why Kathy and I aren’t festival people (as an introvert, I cherish the moment I get home from the show and just veg for a bit before passing out); and 3) That brief period between when the Beatles recorded Revolver (marking the end of the “early Beatles”) and Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band (thus transitioning into the psychedelic era of the “late Beatles”). Some random events as well: 1)Being offered ‘shrooms by a DC firefighter, and then later being knocked down by him as he flailed about the dance floor; 2)The dude with the “Anti-Complaining Complaining Club” T-shirt; 3)The Stanley Tucci lookalike who asked me to take a picture of him and his group; 4)A guy named Deedee who wore a classic Who T-shirt; 5)A Disco Biscuits shirt written in that funky 70s font (although I can’t get into Bisco, I always appreciate a unique design). Image below. 1)That art show on the wall behind the man, which reminds me of what SCI and Phil Lesh did during their shows at the Capitol Theater. Yet, I do invite anyone to argue that pink image isn't pornographic. Once again, image below. 1)The singer telling the audience before setbreak, “We’ll be back in fifteen minutes, not like when Trey says fifteen minutes and they mean forty-five, we’ll REALLY be back in fifteen.” Yells of “Fuck Trey!” and “Trey’s a liar!” ensued. Ahhhhh, drunken phans.
2)Kathy introducing me to Mike, a cool dude from Reston As the night went on, I started out in an introverted state, but as the music played and the energy flowed, my “extroverted” side came out, as I just shook hands and talked to random people (something I don’t usually do outside of a show setting). Something about the music just “shocks my brain” to get me there. Traveling solo also forces me to do that too. And now, the most important part: the setlist. Set 1 First Tube Golgi Apparatus Sample in a Jar (the first song I ever saw Phish play live) Glide Bathtub Gin Limb by Limb (one of my favorites) Axilla (a headbanger) Lizards Set 2 Gotta Jibboo Tweezer Llama Everything’s Right (another fav; nice to hear a new one too) Maze Mountains in the Mist (to which I had to Google the lyrics) Harry Hood (what a jam!) Encore 2001 Dog Faced Boy (not one of my favs, but a good slow tune to go between two rockers) Rock and Roll Tweezer Reprise For the post-show veg, I watched an episode of Imposters, a dark comedy about con artists that only made it to two seasons on Bravo before becoming a Netflix staple. Chester took his place on my stomach, and I was out like a light. Gotta preserve that energy for Round Two. In my last post, I lamented about becoming a crochety old man. At this show, I learned I have nothing on the guy sitting in the row behind myself, Maggie, and Pete. Phrases that came out of his mouth included “Why do people dance at shows! Just sit the fuck down” and “People need to sit the fuck down.” He walked up to a guy standing about ten rows below and told him to sit because he was blocking his view. I also incurred his wrath when I tried to dance in the aisle so I wouldn’t directly block me. Pete was reasonable in that people who sit in the upper balcony generally want to sit and not dance. Note for the future. So…Maggie came up to DC for this show (surely, you remember her from my Newport News days). After an afternoon of napping (she needed to recuperate from her train ride and I from my busy widespread panic-filled Midterm Week), we headed to Chinatown for dinner. I had been craving Chinese food and sushi, and Wok and Roll (the place I went with Jeremy when we saw Iron Maiden). I had been fasting that day, so my appetite was ravenous enough for me to order a Philly roll, Won Ton soup, and General Tso’s Chicken. I left about half the chicken with the intent to give it to one of the unfortunate homeless folks struggling in DC. Maggie and I killed time at a nearby coffee shop, and I saw a disheveled, bearded dude pushing a shopping cart with clothes and what appeared to be his possessions. On the way out, I saw the cart, but he wasn’t there. I left it there with the hopes he’d see it and enjoy part of a semi-warm meal that night. Maggie and I got to the venue at a bit after 7 and ran into Mark and Sheila (whom you also remember from the Newport News era). We chatted about the folks we know, work, and life in general before splitting off. The Green Line delayed Pete’s arrival, but he got there at about ten to 8. They started at 8:05, which is basically on time by band standards. The only songs I was able to name were “Midnight in Harlem,” “Stand Back” (Allman Brothers cover), “I Walk on Guilded Splinters” (Dr. John cover, played so often by Widespread Panic), “Sugaree” (the GD), and “Bound for Glory.” No matter, though: out of all three times I’ve seen TTB, this was the best show. Maggie agreed with respect to the six she’s been to. It was the last night of the annual six-show DC run, so I figured they’d bring their A+ game. Random notes: 1)When I went to get waters for Maggie and myself, I thought the bartender was about to pour beers based on the packaging. I guess they’re trying to make drinking water seem more badass? (Note: it already is). 1)The Warner Theatre has a TON of history. Pete pointed some of it out, noting that performers as Bob Dylan, Jerry Garcia, and Johnny Cash have played here.
2)At some of these shows, there seems to be a silent rift between the dancers and the sitters. Perhaps a designated dancing area in the upper balcony could solve it? Maybe I’m being quixotic, but one can hope, right? Good times. When did I become such a crochety old man? That seemed to be the subtextual theme of the night. After a day of grading, I was looking forward to dinner with my friend Tim by the Waterfront and a night with the Allman Others Band (as opposed to the Allman Brothers Band, the iconic act they pay tribute to). We enjoyed some Indian cuisine at Masala (where I usually go with Pete) and caught up on the last few months (adult friendships are just like that: more sporadic contact). Crochety Old Craig Gripe #1: there was a Mardi Gras celebration earlier at the Waterfront. All the beaded people managed to descend on it. I’m actually pretty cool with people in general, but I guess the tribalist side of me went, are these REALLY Allman Brothers fans? I expected to see more bearded folks, tie-dyes, and Baja jackets. As a Deadhead, I do try to practice tolerance (although I’ve heard stories about people being given dirty looks at shows if they’re not dressed “appropriately”). That being said, they were having a good time without bothering anyone, so cool. Crochety Old Craig Gripe #2: too much feedback from the amp was giving me tinnitus. Of course, I was right near the amp. Solution: move to the back like I always do. Crochety Old Craig Gripe #3: seeing cups thrown in the urinals (I’ll spare you the visual). People, put your garbage in a garbage can, don’t just throw it in the urinal. I can’t stress that enough! Here’s a clip in case you don’t believe me. Okay, so now that that’s out of the way, I was happy to see the show started only six minutes after the promised 8:00 time and it ended before midnight, with plenty of time to get to the Metro. Once again, this concert-loving introvert loves when shows rock AND they end early. The setlist is linked here. Highlights for me were “Southbound” and “Come and Go Blues.” However, the Allman Others lapped Skydog as the #1 Allman Brothers Tribute Band I’ve seen (out of two) due to their playing of some deep cuts I never heard from Skydog, such as “Woman Across the River” and “Revival.” I was pleasantly surprised by their covers of Derek and the Dominoes’s “Layla” and “Keep on Growing” and their encore of The Beatles’s “With a Little Help From My Friends.” I mention the Beatles, but they did it in the slower tempo characteristic of Joe Cocker’s version, which I can’t help but associate with The Wonder Years. And, just for fun, here’s Simpsons parody in Spanish. A positive highlight: a few compliments on my Grateful Dead T-shirt, including one person asking me if I’d seen the Grateful Allmans Band, a combination Grateful Dead/Allman Brothers tribute. It’s definitely on my list (possibly in April). Another one: a serene walk during setbreak during which I had some nice nighttime views of the waterfront and the nearby highway. Despite all my griping at the beginning, I had a blast. And a story to close out. I had some fun hitting the balloons that went across the crowd. Not too many, which I like. I started thinking about a Blind and Dirty show I went to with Maggie, Johnny Mac, and a few other folks in Williamsburg in 2016. Having been in the front row, we were inundated with balloons; eventually, I started stomping them out. You’d think people would call me a buzzkill, but it was just the opposite. The other concertgoers kept passing the balloons my way, because, well, I guess I was the only one with the cojones or the motivation to stomp them out. It was fun.
I know; I have problems. Good night, everyone! Damn COVID. The symptoms started Monday, 1/23; the test read positive Tuesday, 1/24. Greensky Bluegrass was on 1/28, Day 5, just before I could leave isolation. Fortunately, I got $40 for the ticket, so it wasn’t a total loss.
Wednesday, 2/1, was my second negative test, so I was prepared to make up for it on Friday, 2/3. Thanks to Pete’s recommendation, I was able to secure enough Friends with Benefits points to get a free ticket to a show at the 9:30 Club. I’d heard the name Pigeons Playing Ping Pong (P4) tossed around among other jam band fans, and I’d never seen them. I figured, why not? Pete and I met at 1914 by Kolben, a Pho restaurant near the club for preshow chow. All I can is say is that Cha Gio Re (waffle wrap egg rolls) was incredible. When I got my ticket, I was hoping for an old-school printout, but I got one of those small blue ones they use in raffles (which security then took). Fortunately, coat check was still free (although I always tip). The opening band, Dale and the ZDubs, rocked pretty hard. They reminded me of one of those 90s ska/rock/reggae type fusion bands, like 311 or the Urge. Their reggae rendition of “Scarlet Begonias” was pretty sweet too. My friend Kathy described P4 as a jamband version of a “boy band”: very peppy and happy. And they delivered on that preview. Pete described the lead singer, Greg Ormont, as “always smiling,” and that delivery was accurate as well. I could see his grin from the back. Hey, the way I see it, if you’re playing happy music, show it on your face. Shows have come back in full force; the last two I saw at 9:30 were completely sold out; during the first set, I could barely move, and I had to groove in the hallway to get space. P4 was hot, though; they played the two songs I know, “F.U.N.K.” and “Water.” Pete and I hung out in the lounge in the basement before the set and during setbreak, during which I heard songs by Cypress Hill and Metallica, a dark contrast to the band above. We agreed the show should have started earlier (particularly a two-set affair with an opener), but I’m glad I got to see most of it (it was free, after all). I got “peopled out” by midnight, so I rode home. It was fun being able to dance after being in lockdown (although I liked Dale and the ZDubs even better than P4; I hope they play in DC again). After an episode of Gentrified, a cool dramedy about a Latinx family that runs a taco shop, I was out like a light, and Chester made sure I didn’t get up from the couch for a good hour or so. The first week of classes is always WIDESPREAD PANIC with students trying to get in and out of classes. Hahhahahahahahha (Laughs for 10 minutes). Anyway, I can’t think of a better way to cap off that first week (along with a Friday chock full of work meetings) than with a show. It’s the 25th anniversary of Umphrey McGee’s founding, and they blessed us DMVers with the opening show. Preshow dinner was an adventure. Pete and I planned to meet at Thai X-ing, which had moved to a new location. Once we found that new location, we learned that it was a fixed price menu, costing $40. Fuck that, we thought simulatenously. The next try was an Italian restaurant, which, upon our examination of the menu, proved to be too rich for our blood. The third time, though, proved to be a charm, as we found Shaw’s Tavern, a reasonably priced bar and grill. I perused the menu and decided on a country fried steak for this reason: A while back, I devised the joke that I should have a flank steak in the Shaw neighborhood of DC so I could call it the “Shawflank Redemption” and post it on Facebook so I can laugh at that joke for ten minutes. When I saw it was a flank steak, my heart fluttered, having gotten my wish to do so. And, of course, I didn’t limit it to Facebook. I told the waiter this, and he laughed, though not for ten minutes. Even Pete thought it was “cute.” I don’t typically eat fried food or red meat, but I had to in this case. Also, just LOOK at it! Anywho, we walked in the wind to the 9:30 Club, and that line went around the corner, past the nearby restaurants. Even Pete, a veteran of the DC club scene, hadn’t seen the line this long. I was reminded of that Dead & Company show at the Hampton Coliseum where the venue kept Maggie and I, along with the rest of the tribe, waiting way past doors. Passive-aggressive much? Fortunately, this club values its audience; they opened the doors AT 8, and we moved quickly. I ran into my friend Kathy, and met some new folks, including Donny, Jake, and Andrew. I also had the opportunity to learn about GrooveSafe, an organization that aims to stop unwanted touching at shows. While I haven't seen that per se, I do remember the Phish show at Merriweather with Mark, Gary, and Jesse, where a guy passed a lady and said "Nice tits!" I was hugely disappointed, but sadly, not shocked. I'm glad there's an organization that aims to stop this type of behavior. I love this sticker below: The show started at 9:05 (almost on time). I can’t identify most of Umphrey’s songs by ear, and I couldn’t tonight. There are a few I love (“Ordinary Times” and “Half Delayed” being my favorites), but I didn’t hear them. No matter, though. They jammed hard, possibly the best of their shows I’ve ever seen. They add a metal component to their jams too, which gives a nice edge. I’d never been to a sold-out show at this venue, and we really had to fight for every square inch of space. The second set was more dancing-friendly, as some folks cleared out.
I was pretty worn out by the end of the second set, and Metro can be funny, so Pete and I parted ways at midnight. I did my usual post-show routine of munching, zoning out in front of the tube, and falling asleep on the couch, Chester on leg. Good first 2023 show experience. New Year’s Eve is really just a day. But a day we’ve been socialized into regarding its importance. And I include myself in the plural pronoun “we.” I always made it a point to do things on NYE, particularly starting in 2016, when I hit those Phish shows that inspired the title of this blog.
COVID put a detour in that mission. The last two years, I’ve spent NYE Netflixing, accompanied by Chester sitting on my stomach. So when I heard moe. would only be playing two hours from me, I thought, why not? And I had the opportunity to meet up with my good friend Shana. Dinner was at a restaurant called Bourbon & Branch, close to the Fillmore and a mere 20-minute walk from my Airbnb (I do walks longer than that in DC). At the suggestion of the waiter, I tried a salmon cheesesteak (when in Rome, right?), and my taste buds had a nice shindig. Some good conversation ensued. That conversation continued in the pouring rain that accompanied us to the venue, which also included a rendition of “Cuddle in a Puddle,” a parody of Jethro Tull’s “Bungle in the Jungle” we wrote on the spot. Eventually, we got into the venue, where we met up with some cool folks, including Matt. Some cool costumes adorned the lobby, including sequins, a few dunce caps, and a dude in a S&M-style leather cowboy outfit. Shana and I found a spot on the side of the crowd but closer to the stage than I usually stay at, which was a nice way to break outside of my cathedral (moe. lyric). But before moe. came on, we were treated to an opener from Eggy. I hadn’t heard them before tonight, but Pete did send me a video from a recent show of theirs and John recommended I get there for their opener. I was enamored by both the video and the set, particularly by their cover of Phil Collins’s classic, “Sussudio.” I want to see them again. And again. My ability to spot titles of moe. songs upon the initial notes extends from 1996’s No Doy to 2003’s Wormwood; after that, my fanaticism dropped, although I still appreciate the msuic. I did identify the opener, “Spaz Medicine,” off 1998’s Tin Cans and Car Tires. The rest of the setlist is on this link (thanks, Pete, for sending me the article). A distinguishing feature of moe. is that of their xylophone; tonight’s show was enhanced by their horn section and the return of Chuck Garvey. Highlights for me included their covers of Paul Simon’s “Late in the Evening,” Chicago’s “25 or 6 to 4,” and the theme of Rocky (we were in Philadelphia, after all), the latter of which came on just a bit after midnight. The accompanying balloons were fun as well. Originals include “Not Coming Down,” “Wormwood,” “Ophelia” (very different from when Widespread Panic performs it), “Plane Crash,” and the encore, “Blue Jeans Pizza,” one of my favorites. Shana has a good ear, likening “Johnny Lineup” to the vibe of a Van Morrison tune. We also took turns spotting when people would love their spots so we could move closer to the stage. By the end, we were chilling at the tables in the back. All in all, it was good to be celebrating at a show on NYE with a friend. It’s been three years FFS! And here’s a shout-out to my friends who were at other shows: Maggie – Last Fair Deal – Virginia Beach, VA Fred – Phish – New York, NY John – Phish – New York, NY Robert – String Cheese Incident – Denver, CO Kelly – String Cheese Incident – Denver, CO Ken – Widespread Panic – Nashville, TN If you were at a show, feel free to correct me, and I’ll add you. But 2022 was a big year for shows; I see it as making up for the last two years. I’ll be cutting down in 2023, but I’m thinking it’ll make the shows that much more enjoyable. Happy start of 2023 Thank heavens for Pete, who finds the music news before I do and updates me. Thanks to that, I was able to get free tickets to Donna the Buffalo. I’d heard of them but never really knew their music. But, thanks to this show, I’m now a member of the Herd, the term for Donna the Buffalo fans.
The Kennedy Center is a posh-looking spot, known for hosting plays, operas, and symphonies; I attended a film festival back in April. I definitely stood out in my Grateful Dead tie-dye among all the elegant attire. I was to meet with Josh, a friend from my college days who recently moved to nearby Arlington, Virginia. I had saved us two seats, but when I saw people dancing in that little dance floor area toward the front, it was a no-brainer: dance. I noted a pair of videographers during the show, and I started thinking about the work that goes into putting together a concert video. The editing must be precise. Josh and I were on PSTV, our campus television station, back in the 1990s. I learned I wasn’t cut out to work in a TV studio (looking back, I think I would’ve liked it more had there been more opportunities to shoot out in the field); apparently, Josh wasn’t either, so we’ve both migrated to education (he a Career Coach, I a professor). Now, the show itself: the male singer, Jeb Puryear, sounds a great deal like a comprehensible version of Bob Dylan. Josh observed the group is like Jefferson Airplane; I can get on board with that. The show was only one hour, and I don’t mind a show ending early, but I’m definitely hungry for more buffalo. The encore, “Blue Sky,” is officially my favorite, after having heard it on a show recording and live (this is different from the Allman Brothers version). We headed back to Josh’s sweet bachelor pad (a model for all bachelor pads) and enjoyed some grub at Fire Works Pizza while we reminisced about fun times at the TV station. All I can say is, I’m in the right career now. |
AuthorWrite something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview. Archives
May 2024
Categories |