A Little Tenderness

Last night my little gang of usual conspirators were off somewhere else and I had no thoughts about who to rally for usual Sunday shenanigans. Our tradition is to meet at the Burren in Davis Square for the front room Americana session and a few pints of Guinness.

From the Burren I sometimes head over to Precinct for the Sea Monsters, but last night I wanted to see another band at the Highland Kitchen. So I found myself a free agent and absolutely confused about what directions my legs should go. There was a brilliant moon, and it said that I could not be at home. I am a great listener when I want to be.

I walked out of the house at quarter of eight to head down to the square. I passed a music store, where lingerers peered wantonly through the glass, then Johnny D's, where the sound of the blues jam made Holland Street a lively, lovely scene. Next up was a street musician pouring out his soul for people frolicking outside the ice cream store or sitting around in the square with friends.

I was kicking down the street joyfully, smiling. I love this town, and the songs I heard and the ones in my head... like "all I need is lovin' you and music, music, music..." and "we've come to the place where everything is music, everything is music, let it play."

I stepped into the Burren and heard the sound of my Sunday around me- the boys playing songs that I never tire of hearing, and seeing the faces that I expect to see surrounding them.

When it was over I knew these neighborhood friends would be heading to the Precinct, but I walked out unsure and solemnly aware that the night's events were more unclear than they'd ever been. So I started down Highland Avenue toward the Highland Kitchen, not so sure I would actually walk through the doors once I got there after twenty minutes of walking.

Every other moment I considered turning back and landing home. I stopped in front of the armory and thought how pretty it looked at night... lingered by the gates of the "Little Sisters of the Poor," a home for needy elderly... but I eventually continued on.

I did it, I walked in- and then my heart leapt at the sight of my friends Chris and Jenny. Chris has been away on tour for a long time, and having friends in the room after a weary walk was a godsend. Chris had been in a session with Laura Cortese at Hi-N-Dry earlier, so they all mosied to the HK afterward. Pure delight for me to see everybody there.

They went home after a drink, and I stayed it out. I'll wall-lean until the bitter end as my ears grab eagerly for the sound of Duke Levine on electric guitar. I am everyday more impressed at my own swooning abilities- nobody does it better.

I left. I walked a block or so in the direction of the square, then yes, I went back again. (it may have been the moon edging me on, the way it knew to do.) I stepped into the crowded side of the bar and asked for a glass of water, then I took up a conversation with a friendly writer sitting nearby... then after telling him that I could not decide whether or not go to the Precinct for the end of the Sea Monsters show... we were in his car, on our way there. He came in with me, then I lost him.

But I found everyone else that I had left back at the Burren, I heard some sweet music, and after another offer of a ride- I wound up with Ruth at the Tavern At the End of the World.

I am making my way foggily through this day, listening to Otis Redding. I am thinking that last night when I was weary, the universe showed me a little tenderness.

Thanks to all of you who are inside of the places that I will always want to go to. You are sure a tender bunch.

Music = Life

Some time a ago, I caught something- it was bad. Always a music lover, it was inevitable that my condition would either sustain itself or grow uncontrollably. My natural obsessive nature made it very likely that this mostly healthy sickness would be at the center of my current existence.

That is where I find myself today, at 31- In absolute love with local music, out five nights a week, at least, purely devoted. When not out seeing Tim Gearan at Toad, Atwood's, or the Burren... if not at the Lizard Lounge for Session Americana... I am privileged to be seeing my favorite musicians and musician friends play at Club Passim and other venues around town.

Of all the sprouting incarnations in town, I must say my favorite is definitely Sub Rosa, a "secret society of friends and strangers" at the Lizard Lounge. Hosted by the deliciously talented Rose Polenzani, Sub Rosa is an ever-changing musical performance of originals and covers by Rose's community of songwriters and players, with one guest stranger chosen to play a couple of songs and be interviewed by Rose. One of the things I love most about Sub Rosa, is that there is very little, if any, rehearsing. When there is magic, and there often is, it is real and it is unforgettable. (here is a video from youtube, for your enjoyment.)

Speaking of the songwriter community and of musician friends, last night I went to see Chris O'Brien at Atwood's. Chris is currently at work on his second record, after much success surrounding his first full release, Lighthouse, in 2007. Chris was a Finalist on "A Prairie Home Companion" for the People In Their Twenties Talent Contest, and was the 2007 New Artist of the Year on WUMB.

I was really loving Chris last night, though he is already a high-energy performer, he came into himself even more with the cast of players who accompanied him on stage. If you have ever seen Josh Ritter with his band, you will probably remember the mustached bass player, Zack Hickman. This man has unstoppable momentum, and a sharp, elegant style made all his own- and well, he is ridiculously awesome at everything he does. Also playing, newer to Josh's band, guitarist, Austin Nevins. Austin is among my most beloved local players and he's someone you just want to be around for his humor and for his very essence. These two have a dynamic onstage chemistry that makes for an always impressive sound. Charlie Rose played banjo, and Mike Piehl was on drums- you could not go wrong. It was a blast.