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I can't even explain. That just happened. You guys. Hey.
I spent all morning finishing up the Mountain Man transcription and printed it just barely before Liz arrived to go with me to the bus station. Oddly enough, the bus to Portsmouth, NH had internet, so I kept up with the day until we got to the station there. We arrived earlier than I'd realized we would, so we had a little wait before Julie came to get us. I spent it showing Liz videos of the songs that aren't on the album. She appreciated it.
Julie had a bit of a time finding us at the station, but once we were all united we set off with an iPod in the aux jack of Julie's Prius and a rockin' song in our hearts. You know whose. There was a free street spot a couple blocks down from the Port City Music Hall (we refrained from getting even a little lost this trip, possibly a first for us, unless you count the trouble we had finding each other in NH).
Once we got inside around 8, we were immediately impressed by the venue, which is rather swank. We made a beeline for our usual spot house left on the rail, and spotted Jo and her party in their usual, slightly left of center. We hung out and chatted about DIY shirts and life, I showed them the sheets, and they played cards, until the openers (whose name I'm still not quite clear on) came out and started their set.
They were more than decent, a guitar trio with a jammin' bassist. They had some nice melodic lines and the singer/guitarist was committed enough to transmit to the audience. They had a little issue with lack of variability, but that of course isn't helped by the fact that I was totally unfamiliar with all their songs. I was also distracted by the occasional splash of beer landing on my back (from the glass of a girl who seemed to be doing it on purpose and then giving me dirty looks when I looked askance at her) or in my hair (the boy whose accident that was apologized profusely between sets and couldn't have been more mortified). The openers did a great job of warming the crowd up (though of course our front row of hardcore Crash Kings fans were already plenty warm).
And they came on. And some of us went wild. And the rest learned how to. I love it when they start with 1985. Non Believer follows really well, and I was in a position to appreciate it especially, having finished the transcription earlier in the week. 14 Arms rocked especially hard. At the beginning of You Got Me, Tony revealed it'd be their next single. In 2nd Rate Citizen, a lot of the words were clearer than I had heard before. Apparently, it rocked so hard Tony broke a bass string on the Yamaha. So Mike stalled while they changed it. Tony explained how he's always breaking bass strings, and he had a collection of them up there, and did anybody want one? I did. He'd been smiling at me consistently through the whole first half, and then threw me the string. As we know, I can catch only moderately well. Or not well at all. So when the string bounced off my hand Tony jumped off the stage, picked it up, ignored the girl next to me who'd tried to push me out of the way to catch it, and gave it to me, saying "That's for you, my dear." I have never felt so ecstatically warm and fuzzy.
It's Only Wednesday followed, and I swear I'm not making it up (Julie and Liz agree), he looked straight at me several times and grinned fit to burst. Which only made me grin harder through the lyrics I was singing with all my might. Raincoat, which was next with another sweet segue, gave us the opportunity to hold out our hands, piano string wrapped around my wrist. There was a sweet segue to My Love, which is maybe the warm-fuzziest of their whole rep. And then I got an excellent shock; I had totally forgotten they started doing Hey Bulldog live. A gorgeous clav toccata-style intro gave contrast before an extra-rockin' Carry On, and then with "We truly, sincerely love you guys; you're too kind to us," there followed Saving Grace. They ended, naturally, with Mountain Man, after teaching the lick to the crowd (which they now totally owned), but when they went off stage there was actually chanting and continuous cheering for them to come back. So we got a sweet introduction and a rendition of War Pigs tonight, and the boys behind us were so into it they squished us up against the rail. They went offstage to the sounds of even more and louder cheering, all three with wide smiles and a high-five or handshake for the people reaching over the line.
It wasn't long before they showed up at the merch table, either, though Julie, Liz, Jo, Jo's posse and I opted to wait till the crush passed and instead sat on the comfy swanky couches up in front by the table. I wanted to see if they had the black shirts, but was content to wait till more people cleared out. Jo eventually went up and talked to Jason and Mike, but was back in time for the highlight. Tony came down from the table and was engaged in conversation by a girl who clearly knew him fairly well, and they talked for quite awhile, but after some time he moseyed past her toward us, through the couch setup, saying "Hi, ladies!" I preempted any small talk by admitting I had something for him; "You do, do you?" he said with a smile. And I gave him the newest copy of Saving Grace, saying it'd better be right this time or I'd break something.
And he took it and sat down on the couch among us to look through it.
I showed him all three songs I'd brought him, Saving Grace, Non Believer and Mountain Man, and he looked comprehensively through them, admiring them, giving me suggestions and a couple corrections (though one we talked about for awhile and it turned out I was right in the first place, after he played air piano on the table to figure it out). I did sort of monopolize him, but nobody in our posse minded. At one point a thoroughly inebriated girl sat down on the other side of Tony and hugged him in places he'd rather not be hugged, if the face he made was any indication, she said "you don't know me, but..." and gushed at him while her friend took a picture (because otherwise she'd probably have no memory by tomorrow, heh). He was graciously tolerant, though that face was classic, and they went away after incoherently whispering "we love you!" and giggling.
Glancing at his tattoo while this nonsense was going on, I noticed some hardware among the arteries and veins of the heart on his left forearm. I asked him what it was, and turns out there's a Fender Rhodes tine in there. I also noticed that after the "IMAGINE" inside his right wrist is a 3-bar equals sign with a 3/4 time signature after it.
We sat there on that couch and talked about the music until the club closed and kicked us out, which was all too soon. He kept explaining how much he appreciated the transcriptions, and how cool it'd be to have them all together in a book. Maybe also someday a simplified version, like for kids to learn from, because when he was a kid he loved learning rock songs from books on the piano... Adorable. I explained that's really how I start, with a uniform simple chart, and then study the recording or video and put down what he actually does. I told him how great it is that all the solos and a lot of the backup are slightly different all the time.
He wondered how we weren't tired enough of the songs not to want to hear the same ones three days in a row. He explained how they like to write stuff that's hard for them to play so they don't get tired of it, so they can play it for us sweet people who come to see them several times in a row. It's Only Wednesday, as an example, is not impossible; I can do it, but he said even he had trouble putting the piano and vocals together after writing it.
We came upon the topic of how grateful he is to be where he is now at this point in his life, and then self-disparagingly called himself old. We, of course, were having none of it; despite his "well, I'm definitely not in my 20's," I don't think he'll ever be old.
I did at some point nonchalantly mention that it was a great show, and thanked him for the piano string, which by then I had wrapped into a necklace. Eventually the club guys really insisted "everybody out!" and Tony said "see you tomorrow!" I was collected and coherent the entire time he sat there next to me, no flailing, conversational or otherwise. I made up for it outside with the posse after the club closed, and we all stood there talking for another half-hour at least. And then I flailed and squeed in the car all the way back, to the accompaniment of the album.
And now we'll see them tomorrow, so I'll be able to rectify the oversight of having been kicked out of the club before I could talk to Jason or Mike, and maybe see if they have black shirts. They're on at 1:15, as we found out by asking Tony, but we'll probably go early and have ourselves a picnic day out at the Hatch Shell.
I spent all morning finishing up the Mountain Man transcription and printed it just barely before Liz arrived to go with me to the bus station. Oddly enough, the bus to Portsmouth, NH had internet, so I kept up with the day until we got to the station there. We arrived earlier than I'd realized we would, so we had a little wait before Julie came to get us. I spent it showing Liz videos of the songs that aren't on the album. She appreciated it.
Julie had a bit of a time finding us at the station, but once we were all united we set off with an iPod in the aux jack of Julie's Prius and a rockin' song in our hearts. You know whose. There was a free street spot a couple blocks down from the Port City Music Hall (we refrained from getting even a little lost this trip, possibly a first for us, unless you count the trouble we had finding each other in NH).
Once we got inside around 8, we were immediately impressed by the venue, which is rather swank. We made a beeline for our usual spot house left on the rail, and spotted Jo and her party in their usual, slightly left of center. We hung out and chatted about DIY shirts and life, I showed them the sheets, and they played cards, until the openers (whose name I'm still not quite clear on) came out and started their set.
They were more than decent, a guitar trio with a jammin' bassist. They had some nice melodic lines and the singer/guitarist was committed enough to transmit to the audience. They had a little issue with lack of variability, but that of course isn't helped by the fact that I was totally unfamiliar with all their songs. I was also distracted by the occasional splash of beer landing on my back (from the glass of a girl who seemed to be doing it on purpose and then giving me dirty looks when I looked askance at her) or in my hair (the boy whose accident that was apologized profusely between sets and couldn't have been more mortified). The openers did a great job of warming the crowd up (though of course our front row of hardcore Crash Kings fans were already plenty warm).
And they came on. And some of us went wild. And the rest learned how to. I love it when they start with 1985. Non Believer follows really well, and I was in a position to appreciate it especially, having finished the transcription earlier in the week. 14 Arms rocked especially hard. At the beginning of You Got Me, Tony revealed it'd be their next single. In 2nd Rate Citizen, a lot of the words were clearer than I had heard before. Apparently, it rocked so hard Tony broke a bass string on the Yamaha. So Mike stalled while they changed it. Tony explained how he's always breaking bass strings, and he had a collection of them up there, and did anybody want one? I did. He'd been smiling at me consistently through the whole first half, and then threw me the string. As we know, I can catch only moderately well. Or not well at all. So when the string bounced off my hand Tony jumped off the stage, picked it up, ignored the girl next to me who'd tried to push me out of the way to catch it, and gave it to me, saying "That's for you, my dear." I have never felt so ecstatically warm and fuzzy.
It's Only Wednesday followed, and I swear I'm not making it up (Julie and Liz agree), he looked straight at me several times and grinned fit to burst. Which only made me grin harder through the lyrics I was singing with all my might. Raincoat, which was next with another sweet segue, gave us the opportunity to hold out our hands, piano string wrapped around my wrist. There was a sweet segue to My Love, which is maybe the warm-fuzziest of their whole rep. And then I got an excellent shock; I had totally forgotten they started doing Hey Bulldog live. A gorgeous clav toccata-style intro gave contrast before an extra-rockin' Carry On, and then with "We truly, sincerely love you guys; you're too kind to us," there followed Saving Grace. They ended, naturally, with Mountain Man, after teaching the lick to the crowd (which they now totally owned), but when they went off stage there was actually chanting and continuous cheering for them to come back. So we got a sweet introduction and a rendition of War Pigs tonight, and the boys behind us were so into it they squished us up against the rail. They went offstage to the sounds of even more and louder cheering, all three with wide smiles and a high-five or handshake for the people reaching over the line.
It wasn't long before they showed up at the merch table, either, though Julie, Liz, Jo, Jo's posse and I opted to wait till the crush passed and instead sat on the comfy swanky couches up in front by the table. I wanted to see if they had the black shirts, but was content to wait till more people cleared out. Jo eventually went up and talked to Jason and Mike, but was back in time for the highlight. Tony came down from the table and was engaged in conversation by a girl who clearly knew him fairly well, and they talked for quite awhile, but after some time he moseyed past her toward us, through the couch setup, saying "Hi, ladies!" I preempted any small talk by admitting I had something for him; "You do, do you?" he said with a smile. And I gave him the newest copy of Saving Grace, saying it'd better be right this time or I'd break something.
And he took it and sat down on the couch among us to look through it.
I showed him all three songs I'd brought him, Saving Grace, Non Believer and Mountain Man, and he looked comprehensively through them, admiring them, giving me suggestions and a couple corrections (though one we talked about for awhile and it turned out I was right in the first place, after he played air piano on the table to figure it out). I did sort of monopolize him, but nobody in our posse minded. At one point a thoroughly inebriated girl sat down on the other side of Tony and hugged him in places he'd rather not be hugged, if the face he made was any indication, she said "you don't know me, but..." and gushed at him while her friend took a picture (because otherwise she'd probably have no memory by tomorrow, heh). He was graciously tolerant, though that face was classic, and they went away after incoherently whispering "we love you!" and giggling.
Glancing at his tattoo while this nonsense was going on, I noticed some hardware among the arteries and veins of the heart on his left forearm. I asked him what it was, and turns out there's a Fender Rhodes tine in there. I also noticed that after the "IMAGINE" inside his right wrist is a 3-bar equals sign with a 3/4 time signature after it.
We sat there on that couch and talked about the music until the club closed and kicked us out, which was all too soon. He kept explaining how much he appreciated the transcriptions, and how cool it'd be to have them all together in a book. Maybe also someday a simplified version, like for kids to learn from, because when he was a kid he loved learning rock songs from books on the piano... Adorable. I explained that's really how I start, with a uniform simple chart, and then study the recording or video and put down what he actually does. I told him how great it is that all the solos and a lot of the backup are slightly different all the time.
He wondered how we weren't tired enough of the songs not to want to hear the same ones three days in a row. He explained how they like to write stuff that's hard for them to play so they don't get tired of it, so they can play it for us sweet people who come to see them several times in a row. It's Only Wednesday, as an example, is not impossible; I can do it, but he said even he had trouble putting the piano and vocals together after writing it.
We came upon the topic of how grateful he is to be where he is now at this point in his life, and then self-disparagingly called himself old. We, of course, were having none of it; despite his "well, I'm definitely not in my 20's," I don't think he'll ever be old.
I did at some point nonchalantly mention that it was a great show, and thanked him for the piano string, which by then I had wrapped into a necklace. Eventually the club guys really insisted "everybody out!" and Tony said "see you tomorrow!" I was collected and coherent the entire time he sat there next to me, no flailing, conversational or otherwise. I made up for it outside with the posse after the club closed, and we all stood there talking for another half-hour at least. And then I flailed and squeed in the car all the way back, to the accompaniment of the album.
And now we'll see them tomorrow, so I'll be able to rectify the oversight of having been kicked out of the club before I could talk to Jason or Mike, and maybe see if they have black shirts. They're on at 1:15, as we found out by asking Tony, but we'll probably go early and have ourselves a picnic day out at the Hatch Shell.
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