[from
San Diego, CA to San Francisco, CA to Portland, OR?] Oh Spinella’s – how you’ve
haunted me, starting with S and all. I’ve been following Spinella’s music
calendar for oh… six months – not because I expect stellar music – just my
obsession with progressing through the music venue alphabet. And my undending
failure to ever follow through and accomplish this venue. I’ve been seriously
deficient in mojo, moxie, joie de savoir… since the spring. But I got tired of
hearing myself think about my deficiencies. Life is short and sometimes you
have to pretend you’ve got giddy up even when you don’t. So, tonight, I made
the drive to the much storied and degloried Gresham, in which Spinella’s lies. The
days are short here, come November, so it felt like midnight when I arrived at
6:34p. The street strung in lights suggested I’d made it to downtown Gresham,
which is supposedly up and coming. When I moved to Portland, Gresham was the
place people spoke of in hushes, and the place real estate agents firmly shook
their heads against. Racism, classism, gentrification, etc. In my third Portland
home over four years, I’ve trickled so far east I pictured myself a neighbor of
Gresham … but it was more of a drive (10 miles) than I expected – like far
enough into the Gorge that the snow chain signs started showing. Portland
sprawls. I liked Spinella’s despite itself. It’s on a shitty corner in a weird
church-looking building. The steeples are its high point, if they’re real, but
the interior is tacky, with bad art, bad lighting, average tables. Drab
clientele. Overworked staff. Overpriced menu with red-lined boxes on every page
warning that your food’s going to take 45 minutes to get to you. But everyone
was happy. And nobody cared that the woman from Portland proper was there to
pass judgment on them all. And the food was good. And the music was great.
Maybe I was just happy to be on my pretend giddy up horse but this heretofore
unknown artist was all Texas singer/songwriter, which basically means a healthy
inflection of country and usually a bit of dark. When I arrived, he was the
only other person at the bar, which was really just a step away from all the
average tables – I noticed him because he was twenty years younger than the
most of the clientele (i.e., my age) and had some modicum of style, i.e.,
flannel shirt, baseball cap, sludgy attitude. The next guy who sat down ordered
a complicated chili burger which was an affront. … To the show. He was
extremely unassuming but did do a bit of a sound check. I think all of his
songs were covers but he did them really well and it was pleasant and
comforting. As his set progressed, he talked more between songs but he mumbled
so much that I couldn’t make out what he was saying. He was on this awkward
stage close to the diners – it was just unclear whether this was a dining
establishment or a music venue. The sound was actually really good and this was
when I became impressed by Spinella’s ambitiousness. They have music two to
three times a week! They’re Tim Gunning it! The music was loud enough to be a
feature of the evening, which annoys some diners, but this crowd clapped after
each song – proper. Their food takes a long time because it’s all cooked upon
order. The whole environment felt plucky, which was just what I needed.
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