[Pacific Northwest (I suspect they’re hiding southern origins)] When times are distressing, some people want to talk to others. When times are distressing, people are the last thing I want. People are the cause of everything. I want to move my body or exercise my ears with some music. And I’ve been jonesing to return to this gem of a venue ever since I discovered her … ten months ago ☹ I think it was the same bartender as last time – who stopped my shazam to tell me the band playing on their TV after the band was Savages (an amazing band – whom I was already aware of – sorry – musicheads care about who discovered what first). He’s a level-headed observant person – his favorite band is Water From the Eyes whom he will not be able to see tomorrow on Halloween b/c he dragged his feet on the tickets – he’s a drummer in two bands who gig all over town (I couldn’t hear the names of the bands) – when people order from him, they usually chose the ‘tall.’ The only fly in my ointment was the guy two seats down from me in preppy attire, a headband with a peace sign, and gold-rimmed glasses – he had a Ferris Bueller voice but he wasn’t cute like Matthew. It was a bit meta because book club was a small part of my distress, and right after criticism of the self-absorption of people who diary/auto-fiction/memoir, I head out to do the same – but diarying is something that was never voluntary for me – if I didn’t write it down, did it really happen? The scene was similar to last time – the audience was the band was the audience – just like the old saying about how some musicians are ‘musician’s musicians,’ this venue feels like the place where bands go to see bands. Upon landing in my seat alone by the bar, I was immediately amused/pleased by the diversity of costume – it ended up that they were ALL in the band. Similarly, this venue is not trapped in any genre of music – they seem to just support good music. The first person noticed was the woman in a black dress with a corset and sleeves made of cobwebs haha (saxophonist) – she looked inordinately flattered and surprised every time they got applause from the audience. Then there was the man in a raspberry colored suit of velvet (bass guitar –he was very good at his instrumentation – he & the saxophonist were the only ones who trumpeted solos). Then there was the guy with haunted eyes, a turban, and a jacket with bars (hotel service person?, military?... tonight, a drummer) – I was flattered when he complimented me on catching a dropped item as he passed behind my stool. Then there was the guy in a tie dye shirt, overalls, and a baseball hat that said ‘say howdy, stay rowdy’ (guitar). Finally, there was the fellow in hippie patchwork pants, a jean jacket lined and collared with white fluff, a handkerchief around his neck, and a man bun with a couple of braids along the base of his half-shaved scalp – my inclination to hate him shifted swiftly. This man was the heart and soul of the band – a voice like you’d hear on one of those singer competition Voice shows – that and his penchant for jam band riffs should have also made me hate him but he was so confident and fun and lively and vibrant, I was sunk. And he had stoned eyes like my old flame Flame. And despite my disdain for jam bands (there was a Dave Matthews era in my youth …and Widespread Panic’s “Waker” is amazing), I respected their jam band energy and cohesion. His crowd interaction went like: “It’s Oct 30 …haha …I'm up here … have to tell facts.” They’re groove rock, a little jammy, southern rock interludes. He made me laugh first with the song “Mop”: “I don't want to turn into that sad guy… with the short hair … skinny jeans, the one who doesn't sing.” 90s alt-rock with a southern fiddle underneath. Their brass soulfulness, super blues-y moments also, and ‘y-alls’ convinced me there had to be some southern influence – then they did this beautiful hard-soul song “Mississippi Calling”: “I can't seem to dream without her. She used to be my baby queen.” Their songs were so good you moved to them upon first listen. A lot of their songs were super rollicking (“Bullshit”) – reminded me of amazing bands that punk-scratched traditional forms of music like O’Death, Those Rascals, Chili Cold Blood. There was some 90s alt-rock revivalism – The Toadies are an overlooked excellent band. “Redneck Wedding” was punk crossed with religious revivalism. And while he was a cocky front man, there was also graciousness and gratitude – this is a very good band. To all the musicologists and humans who say there's nothing new, the youth are quite well and alive.
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