The Take Off and Landing of Everything - Elbow at the 9:30 Club, DC 5/11/14

I was reading my horoscope for the week today in the back of the Indy, and I had to laugh...

“If we want the rewards of being loved," says cartoonist Tim Kreider, "we have to submit to the mortifying ordeal of being known." How are you doing with this trade-off, Cancerian? Being a Crab myself, I know we are sometimes inclined to hide who we really are. We have mixed feelings about becoming vulnerable and available enough to be fully known by others. We might even choose to live without the love we crave so as to prop up the illusion of strength that comes from being mysterious, from concealing our depths. The coming weeks will be a good time for you to revisit this conundrum.”

Vulnerability... The scariest and most commonly felt emotion I know. I have it in me, that desire to be known, to be understood, to tell my story, to leave my mark in the world... Sometimes I let it leak out when drunk, to a friend or two here and there, in these decreasingly sporadic blog posts; I want to open up. I really do. But I am afraid... What if you don't like who you see? I like her so much... I have earned the right to love myself as much as I do. After three decades of relying so heavily on the rest of the human population to validate me, I faced my own death and decided I was worth saving. I have a vested interested in myself... I love me. Do you deserve to love me and know me, as I do (the inner me, obviously)? The other side of this conundrum is... Once I do let someone in, once that leaden, guarded door to my heart opens (the crab shell is cracked)– so much may come rushing out. So many stories, facts, figures, fears, theories, loves, hates, dreams... They've been inside for so long. I've tried to purge them periodically via this blog, and as some of you know, I keep a personal and unpublished journal, as I have done since I was 12. (Also I'm still working on my damned memoirs...) We all know I'm a big fan of catharsis. But what happens when that Lost Arc of my soul is finally opened to the right person? Whose face will it melt? Or will this person have enough sense to hold on tight, shut their eyes and ride it out?

Enter: Daniel.

We met almost exactly three years prior at the Future Islands doublefeature at Kings and stayed in touch via facebook and such... I was interested in him, for sure, at the time, but he was in relationship... then I was. Then I wasn't. But then he was again. But apparently by this time, that couldn't stop us. (sorry) Random, seemingly innocent “what are you up to?” messages saw us at yet another show together (that awesome Talking Heads cover band from Tennessee, Same As It Ever Was, at the Southland Ballroom). And from that night; we have scarcely been apart. More than 24 hours away from him and I'm like a cat on a hot tin roof... We go to shows. We laugh. We get drunk. We give each other 100 smarmy nicknames twenty times a day that we instantly forget. We have so many in-jokes by now that it's almost like a secret language that only we speak. He calls me on my shit and makes me question my stubborn defenses. He is erasing all the regrets and poor decisions that have haunted me from my past. He is compassionate, insatiably creative, brilliant, hilarious and every time I look at his dumb face he's even more attractive to me than the moment before. The simplest things he does I find infinitely charming; from his gait, the way he looks at me when he knows I've said something completely inane or pretentious, to the timbre of his voice. He teaches me something new everyday and he is patient with me. I have opened up to him more than approximately 99% of the people I have ever met in my life, (including therapists,) and he's still around. Every day is a new adventure. He is my best friend. I adore him.

It's terrifying.

We have, as yet, survived two road trips intact. You know how that can test a relationship and all... first was a weekend at the beach; no problem. The next was an overnight trip to Washington, DC, as I had bought tickets to the opening night of the US leg of the tour supporting their newest album, The Takeoff and Landing of Everything at the 9:30 Club. We survived; in fact, I'd almost say We Thrived... I feel closer to him now than ever.

I cannot tell you how my love affair with the band Elbow began. I had their first 2001 album, Asleep in the Back, as it was a promo I dug on and kept from my days at the Record Exchange. They had a couple more releases that, at the time as I was probably up U2 or Morrissey's asses, that didn't register with me for whatever reason. Flash forward to my time at my last job, Progress Energy. As is common knowledge, I am a creature of habit. I find a spot and a routine and I pretty much stick with that until a building is torn down or a job is lost, essentially. I would, every day, for almost nine years, take my lunch at exactly the same time, plug in my earbuds, walk down to a coffee shop, space out with a novel or most likely, a puzzle, and listen to some tunes.

I have, over the years, gone through many outlets of music discovery; trolling British magazines in the days before the internet, previewing every promo and random ass CD that came into the store, word of mouth, Napster, Audiogalaxy, bit torrents, live shows, mix tapes, and more recently and frequently in the past five or more years, is the advent of infinite streaming music options, Pandora and now Spotify. Before I finally caved into the Pandora (and quickly aligned myself with and became paying member of Spotify,) I spent the majority of my headphone time, when not glued to my own iPod, listening to an online radio station based out of California called RadioParadise.

RadioParadise was (and still is) the perfect blend of oh, I dunno, world, 90s alternative, adult contemporary, and eclectic music. If the song currently playing wasn't already a cherished favorite, it was most likely a soon to be. This is how my love affair with Elbow was rekindled. The 2005 album, Leaders of the Free World, with its opening track “Station Approach” was like a shock to the system. Unique, dramatic, poetic, desperate, longing, stunning... I heard this tune on RadioParadise and did the whole “Oh hold up, who is this again??” and then it was on! backtracked to their other albums and stayed current with new releases.

I saw them for the very first time in August 2009, when they opened for Coldplay. It was in support of the then most recent release, The Seldom Seen Kid. I bought my Rubik's cube shirt from the merch table and promptly changed into it (thereby seeing my one and only foray into being “that guy” at the show). The boys played a 45 minute set with the majority of the tunes coming from the new album and a couple more hits, such as my coveted Station Approach. I was sat on the lawn and the grand total of folks up and rocking out for this show, in my general vicinity was a staggering 2. I took a couple crap, short vids on my cell and was on a total high for weeks because of it. After the show, my friend Alisyn and I (my resident Coldplay fan companion [which, much to the chagrin of my boyfriend] became one of my favorite bands after their stunning stage show) were walking along the perimeter of the lawn when I was stopped by another fan, wearing an Elbow shirt. He had asked if I had seen them on any other shows during this tour, to which I replied no. He told me he had seen them the day or so before at the 9:30 Club in DC, it was the best live show he'd ever seen, and that they played the sacred hymn “Newborn.” It was at that moment, so long ago, that I decided next time they toured and came anywhere close to me, within driving distance, nothing could keep me away. It only took 5 years and sweet Mary, Mother of God, it was worth the wait.

I bought tickets for the 9:30 Club for the May 11, 2014 gig as soon as they went on sale. I then promptly hit up Priceline and secured a hotel room in DC. I was prepared and ready to attend this show solo; I wasn't even concerned about sharing this experience with anyone; much like certain intensely personal musical connections I have with certain artists, I knew I would be in my own little world during the show anyway, and that I would make friends with the folks down front. (Spoiler alert, this is exactly what happened).

As luck would have it (or fate, or time & circumstance, or the will of God, or whatever,) would have it, I started dating Daniel a few weeks before the show, so I thought, hey, why not? The show sold out, so I wasn't able to find him a ticket (he wasn't too heart-broken; he is tolerant of my Elbow listening compulsion, at best). He waited in line with me outside the club, as I was coming out of my skin with excitement, and kissed me goodbye at the door and then he toddled off to find his own adventures (we met up after).

HE'S IN THERE

Walking into the room, I had no idea what to expect; a room somewhere between the size of the Ritz (not so high), and the new Cat's Cradle (not so deep). But the stage, the big blue angel, staring down at me. I walked into the center of the room and promptly burst into subtle tears; I was really, finally, here. This was happening. And the crowd, which I was worried would swallow me whole as the show was sold out and I was so shockingly far back in the line, was mingling and very chilled out. I was able to, quite pretty damned causally, stroll right up front and parked myself center stage, right down front. I made friends with a really cute couple from Baltimore and then another Superfan who had flown in from Detroit for the show. These were my people, I was in the right place.

I sipped a few beers while the opening act, John Grant, did a semi-acoustic set. He was excellent, charming, and laugh-out-loud witty. I mentally ear-marked a few songs to share with Daniel later, of which I knew he would appreciate (and he did!) And then, it happened. Elbow was on the stage and Guy Garvey was quite literally 8 feet in front of me. (As you may assume, copious tears fell! But I got myself together, for the time being, but rest assured, I got plenty weepy throughout the night...)

the set list (which, unfortunately I was unable to procure) followed as such:

Charge

The Bones of You**

Fly Boy Blue / Lunette

Real Life (Angel)

The Night Will Always Win**

New York Morning

The Loneliness of a Tower Crane Driver

Great Expectations**

Scattered Black and Whites**

Mirrorball

The Birds

Grounds for Divorce

My Sad Captains**

Encore:

Lippy Kids

One Day Like This**

** Denotes I cried like a lil bitch. (I ask you to refer to the opening statement of this post; I am water sign, I cry easy.)

These are the tunes of which I'd like to elaborate:

The Bones of You – This is a personally intensely memory-driven experience for me. I have lived through this song. This is one of the first songs that formed the alliance between myself and the band. Pure poetry, so much pain. And I honestly had no idea how amazing this song was going to sound live, despite watching infinite live videos of it online. Until that amazing little woodblock up-beat was right in my face, could I appreciate it fully. This, being the first song that I had such a connection with that the band played, will stick with me for a long time.

Scattered Black and Whites – A song the Superfan Conglomerate down front all agreed will most likely be played, as the concert was held on (US) Mother's Day. This song was enhanced by the exchange between Guy and a very excitedly outspoken audience member named Gareth who shouted out his request for it. After the song played, which of its own accord is one of the most delicately bittersweet songs ever written, Guy stepped forward and reached forward and shook Gareth's hand in the audience. I keep hoping someone got a video or photo of this, but so far, no hits.

My Sad Captains – Truly and emphatically my favorite song on the newest album. From my first listen, I knew this tune was a chronicle and justification for the past year or so of my life; the brokenhearted runaway, the hopeful dreamer, the drunken mess, the cautious optimist – she is epitomized in these lines. I dared not hope this song would be played, and from the first notes, I found myself with my arms in the air, singing along at the top of my lungs with tears streaming down my face. Then (ironically) miracle of miracles, I found myself reaching forward towards Mr. Garvey hisself; not in the slightest hope of touching him, but more of a gesture of “You, sir, are The Shit!” ...He caught my eye. He stepped forward over the monitor on the stage in front of him, leaned forward over the guard rail and he shook my hand, like a true gentleman. I held his gaze and mouthed the words “thank you”. He bowed to me, graciously. We stepped back. I grabbed the shoulder of the person next to me and asked those around me “Did.... did that just really happen?” My bewilderment was greeted and confirmed with back slaps and whoops of joy for me. I briefly sank to my knees as the cartilage within them seemed to suddenly evaporate. Helpful hands righted me, and we all screamed ourselves raw until the band returned for their encore.

This was truly the greatest show moment of my entire life. And that's triumphing over infinite stage crashes, thrice seeing U2 live, standing 10 feet from Morrissey as he exited his tour bus, anything and everything I've ever written about in this blog; that moment, that beautiful connection I had with one of the most talented human beings on the planet, my postmodern Oscar Wilde, my hero, Mr. Guy Garvey – This was my favorite live show moment I have had in all of my 36 years; possibly one of the best moments of my entire life. One of those moments I will see flash before my eyes when the end comes. Thinking about it now, and ever since then, my eyes prickle with tears. Who knew someone like me could be blessed with such a simple, beautiful gift? I am humbled.

Here are a couple videos of the show that other folk were able to capture. In the first, you can see me about a minute in for the remainder of the song.

The next day, Daniel and I walked. And walked and walked and walked. And had an amazing day exploring the parts of The Capital that I had, despite numerous other trips, had yet to experience. Despite hitting rush hour traffic on our way out of town and an otherwise 4.5 hr trip back to Raleigh taking almost 7, I would not hesitate to say this was probably the best road trip of my life. Be it the city itself, the show, the memories, the man, or my hardened shell cracking just a little wider to let in some joy, I will cherish these two days in Washington, DC for the rest of my life.

I LoveAbe!

Chii Half-Smokes at Ben's Chili Bowl! 

pride.

daniel is the best!

Grace Under Pressure - The State of Things: Spring 2014

Most people have known what they what to be when they grow up for a very long time. Whether or not you actually made this dream a reality is up to each of us to decide; we may have gotten to our goal and became a veterinarian or rock star; some of us are still struggling to make that dream come true. Some folks just dream forever and never try; my dream of what I wanted to be when I grew up is something I've tinkered with my entire life. As longtime readers of my blog can affirm; I've always wanted to be a writer. I have never written anything that I have been paid for, save the poetry contest I won my sophomore year in high school where I wrote a long narrative style poem in the style of Oscar Wilde's Ballad of Reading Gaol, of which I had I recently discovered and devoured, about an Irish immigrant – a woman who left her lover and was a stowaway on a liner bound for America... I got $25. Other than that; it's all journals, notebooks, blogs and unsent (and some sent, yet copies kept) love letters. I finished my first novel when I was in 8th grade... total crap, I promise you. I wrote it on my first word processor, a Brother WP-3400. It's premise was what you would expect from someone like me at that age; a kid in love with someone who didn't know I exist and suddenly we meet through some outrageous twist of fate and fall in love – BUT IT WAS A DREAM THE WHOLE TIME! 

….jaysus. I, honest to god, begged my dad to make me 8 copies of that shitstack and I literally sent it out to publishers, whose addresses I found by begging my mom a ride to the local library and actually using reference books to “how to publish a book.” 

...when I think about how hard you had to hustle pre-internet to get anything done, I am overwhelmed with how unlikely this dream all seems. You kids got it too easy these days, man!

So I keep on blogging... after the “teenage dream” novel, I set out on my next novel that I started my freshman year of high school; an ambitious effort! I actually did heavy research for this one; spent every weekend for months in the library getting my facts straight – it was set in Northern Ireland during the heavy bombing campaigns by the IRA in the 1980s... I'd just discovered U2, you see, and my social consciousness curtain was ripped wide open. A little more than ¾ into that novel I signed myself up and saved allowance to pay for a creative writing workshop held not far from my high school... I was the youngest in the class by a good 5 years... it was helpful and an excellent resource but a total mindfuck... sometimes someone teaches or tells you something that opens your mind's eye so wide you can never shut it again; the woman who lead the workshop read an excerpt from my novel in process and she said it was more or less good, I cant remember any kind of praise because what she said next changed my writing abilities forever... “It's good but not believable, you can only write what you know and the reader can always tell”... so basically, if I wanted to write about a story set in Belfast, Northern Ireland, how could I expect success if I've never been there? This information settled like a ton of bricks in my understanding of the universe and my abilities to process it... If I wanted to write about true love, how could I if I had never experienced it? If I wanted to write about different cultures and continents, how could I without traveling the world? If I wanted to tell my story, how could I until I felt and understood myself completely? 

What transpired after that conversation was a relentless, exhaustive, yet still ongoing quest to see, feel, hear, experience, taste, love and live EVERYTHING so I could write about it. I started making travel plans that very afternoon. This little bit of information may help any of those still trying to decipher my intensity, self-absorption, and main directive in life. I can't settle down, I can't marry, I can't buy a home or stay in one place too long... not until I am satisfied that I can finally “write what I know.”

I have had epiphanies. I have had moments of such divine clarity that I have been rendered speechless for days. I have had dreadful realizations about human existence that sent me into blackout drunks spanning over weeks at a time. I have walked away from opportunities and people that were “too easy” because without plot advancement, there was no narrative. I have inadvertently placed myself in treacherous situations in a subconscious effort for a good story. I have taken chances most people interested in retaining their health, sanity, or assets would never consider. All of this in the name of my dream.

Earlier last year I was laid off from a job of 9 years that I didn't know I loved until it was gone; much like much everything in my life I can only truly love in hindsight... after the world opened all it's doors and windows wide to me, I became overwhelmed... Another job? School? Move away? Travel? ...Travel! So after a month or two of floundering and tossing ideas into the universe I finally took the one big chance I never dared myself to take; give away almost all my possessions and run away. 

I can't tell you for sure the moment I knew I wanted to come home; it honestly depends on the moment you ask me... homesickness? My ex? Exhaustion? My health? But in true-me fashion, the decision to return was made just as suddenly as the one to leave. And now I have found myself floundering once again, unable to commit to one single idea or situation; save this one... In the first few nights I was all alone in that jungle I faced my own kind of magic-mirror gate and I sat down and I started to write. All of those years of saving up stories and living these tragedies and victories began to spill out of me and it hasn't stopped since. 

I offer this to you now, my sparse and loyal blogfolk, as a brief-as-i-can-get explanation of the lack of updates that you have seen since I've been back; I am writing. For me. Not blogs, not journal, not love letters I'll never send, not letters I'll send and BCC myself on to use as reference for the future.... none of that. I am finally telling my story. I have you, those who encouraged, inspired, contributed and supported me in these past few years to thank for that.

In the mean time, I will try my best to write and update as inspiration strikes but you may also feel free to follow me on twitter, as I use the blog's account to live tweet as many shows as I attend, which is honestly as many as it's ever been. There will be many more. The story isn't over yet, but for the first time in my life the term “open ended” doesn't scare the shit out of me.

Here are some things that have happened since my last post (in no particular order,) in case you haven't been peeping my twitter:

dum dum girls

IWTDI as In the Name of Love

"Sepultura" at the Great Coverup

"Motörhead" at the Great Coverup

Hank Sinatra at the Benefit for Brisco

Same as it Ever Was - the best Talking Heads tribute band ever!

"Sonic Youth" at the Great Coverup

"FEAR" at the Great Coverup

"The Ramones" at the Great Coverup

Colossus at the Demon Eye CD Release party

Holly Hunt in Wilmington

Demon Eye CD Release Party

this guy.

There is more; There is always more... I'll be around, I promise! xoxo

K-Town and Sadlack's - A Tribute

I was born in Raleigh, North Carolina on July 22, 1977 at the Old Rex Hospital that once sat at the corner of Wade Avenue and St. Mary's Street. My earliest childhood memories, as long-time readers of my blog may be able to affirm, are saturated with the landmarks and buildings of the capital city that have been around much longer than I. Over the years some of these buildings still stand, some have seen remodels or changed locations entirely; others are long gone. One of my long standing stories that I tend to tell from time to time is that when I first got my license in 1993, against the express instructions from my parents not to do so, I drove straight into downtown Raleigh and began what would become my 20 year run of hanging out at Cup a Joe on Hillsborough Street (And it should come as no surprise, this is where I sit now, writing this to you).

36 years of Hillsborough street... I have many memories... some highlights...

1983, NCSU wins the NCAA championship... my dad, an NCSU Alumni decides he must take his family on a cruise up H-boro to celebrate with his comrades. My mom's car at the time, an ancient royal blue escort, is splashed and coated with red latex paint on the passenger side. In my skewed kid-memory, the streets and everything surrounding is snow-white with toilet paper, anything not covered in TP is on fire.

I persist in begging my parents to take us to “That place with the cherry on top!” ...an ice cream parlor on the corner of Dan Allen called Swanson's(?). I distinctly remember once making the decision to order “bubble gum” ice cream and being furiously irritated as there were actual pieces of gumballs in it and ice cream shouldn't be work.

Riding back towards the fairgrounds from the old Darryl's on the corner of Hboro and Oberlin and my dad points out the prostitutes waiting around at the corner of Chamberlain.

My mom works in her salon on Saturday mornings and dad take my brother and I on his errands to local hardware stores, etc., and we typically stop for lunch at Char-Grill beside the old church and eat our Jr Steakburgers on the tailgate of the truck.

Home from college (ECU) to hang out with friends still in town... They have decided to do acid, I am the DD, as I am too scared to try it. We walk up and down Hillsborough, from the Electric Co Mall to Sadlack's... My friend swears the bricks are full of water and the sky is full of angels.

A quiet Tuesday morning and no one is in Cup but me, a few older guys that seem to live here, and my friend Dawn. Several moments go by with no cars on the road and a lone tumbleweed rolls down the center of Hboro St.

IHOP on the corner of Ashe at 3am with an ex-boyfriend... A homeless man comes in and proceeds to drink all 4 tabletop syrups and lies down on the floor beneath the booth and falls asleep.

Endless hours of Frankenstein pinball at the Fast Fare or Funhouse pinball at the pizza place beside Foundation's Edge.

A gutterpunk named Suede tries to sell us cassette tapes he found in the trash behind Schoolkid's.

My friends have somehow managed to shimmy their way onto the roof of Cupajoe and are throwing jumping jacks from the roof and shooting off roman candles.

And now most of these places are gone. The Comet, The Brewery, Pantana's, to name a few. And now one more to add to the list... Sadlack's. It is a painful loss, but before the doors shut, in true hometown honor-system, Raleigh rallied and sent this quasi-shabby, shitsqualor manor of mayhem and drunken foolishness off to the great dive bar in the sky in ...er.... well... style...? A full week (or so) of what I called “Last Call Rock Shows.” I did my best to show face and throw some more cash in the till before it was all over.

Sadlack's sat at the corner of Enterprise and Hillsborough, across from the iconic NCSU Belltower. In my teens and early 20s Sad's was actually not the place you would hang out... In fact, I was warned against it by my father. My crowd were usually at the Comet or Stingray (later on, everyone migrated to Jackpot and then eventually downtown to Landmark/Neptunes/Captial Club). Sadlack's throughout the 80's and 90's had a pretty rough reputation. And before the Great Remodel a few years back had perhaps the smallest, most terrifying bathrooms I've ever experienced. Being situated only a block or two from all the Ghetto-blaster room-for-rent Shrader properties and around the corner from the blood for cash donation center, the assumption was that Sadlack's was basically the vortex for all the homeless or may-as-well-be-homeless gutterpunks and lost souls. The joke goes that Sad's is where Cup a Joe went after close or that it was the official AA Meeting afterparty. It wasn't until my friends decided to quirkily gentrify (sorta kinda) Maiden Lane (and inadvertently, temporarily all became coke addicts,) did I start half-heartedly wandering up to hang out on the patio. Then the glorious advent of Hopscotch and the convenient fact that I had moved into a duplex near the Rose Garden, within walking distance myself, saw me spending more and more time with Raleigh's own island of misfit toys.

Now, I know to the untrained eye, (or those unfamiliar with Karla-speak) you may misconstrue that I am talking smack about Sadlack's and those that chose to spend their time there – I'm mostly trying to explain why it took so long for me to warm up to it. And how once I figured out it was basically, second only to Cupajoe for me, Homeroom for Underdogs and how I started aligning myself with them folks. God knows I love an underdog.

The announcement of the closing came so long ago, so long before I left for Costa Rica in fact, that I had almost forgotten it was coming. And it wasn't until the last few weeks, once we officially saw the 3rd-ish incarnation of Schoolkids close beside it, that reality began to sink in. It was really happening. Suddenly things started happening... The Raleigh music scene remembered its rusty roots of afternoon no one shows on the patio, NCSU alumni who spent their sunny Saturday afternoons came out to reminisce, and the same old freakshow drunks who'd been there since the dawn of time were in full force. I made three “official” stopovers.

Dexter Romweber – 12/22/13

Dex, of Flat Duo Jets fame, started off with an early solo set around 6pm. I hadn't 100% planned on this show, but I was in the general vicinity and I was rocking a solo Sunday Funday and didn't quite feel like wandering down to Landmark, so I made a detour and I'm glad I did. Dexter played for a bit, rested a bit and then picked it back up. I saw great friends and got some serious toe-tapping on. Later I snagged his setlist, which was actually written on the back of an old power bill, which seemed almost intrusive but I got his permission to add it to my ever-increasing setlist collection.

Scores from the past couple weeks in the door of my car. This is getting out of control. kinda.

MARTEEEEEEN!

Kenny Roby & Friends – 12/28/13 (aka The Official Shit-Starts-Gettin'-Rowdy show)

Now this was epic. A Saturday night show, packed to the gills with who's who of the long standing Triangle Americana scene and old school Six String Drag fans. This was a two-fisted tallboy show; a-hootin' and a-hollerin', unexpected covers, surprise special guests and encore after encore kinda gig. Easily one of the best shows I've seen since I got back to town. Toe tapping gave way to eventual gratuitous head-bobbing, morphing seamlessly into full scale dancing, eventually seeing us dancing on the tables, then ...aw fuckit, down front, in front of everybody danceparty!!! There was more love and good vibes on that patio than I have seen in a Raleigh crowd... man, you know, I almost said “years” but honestly? I think EVER?

Damn the Man

I ARE FAN

Gettin' Goner With It

Yeah, That happened!!

More shows were scheduled after this one, (including the Backsliders on New Year's Eve that I very briefly stopped in for one last adieu,) but in my heart I knew nothing would ever come as close to this as sheer live show perfection at Sadlack's and I wanted it to be my last memory of the place, not the shambles I knew it would become as the evening wore on and revelers would tear the place to pieces, nuts and bolts, the way they did on the “first” last night of Jackpot when folks were walking past Q's place on Morgan carrying pool sticks and bar stools. My last memory of the night is watching as some friends lit a Chinese fire lantern loose and it floated dreamily into the sky.

photo courtesy of Johnny of House of Swank

photo courtesy of Johnny of House of Swank

photo courtesy of Johnny of House of Swank

January 1, 2014 saw the end of Sadlack's. The facebook page was flooded with love, support and memories. Local publications published tributes and locals took photos of the boarded up windows in memorial to good times gone by.

Three days later, one of my dear friends, Carole, celebrated her birthday with her husband, friends, and family. Early the next day we learned the terrible news that Matt, her husband, her truest love and longest friend, our friend, our love, had passed away tragically, unexpectedly... I had been, as I tend to do, procrastinating with writing this "tribute to Sadlack's" post, (perhaps waiting for the flood of other media outlet articles to fade out,) but in the wake of this devastating news I knew that the best thing I could do for myself and perhaps for my friends who are hurting as much as I am for these two people who have touched so many lives in such a deep and loving way, was to dedicate this post to them. As with what has been the case with the majority of the posts found in this blog, I sit here holding back tears, spewing catharsis. 

Carole has been a deeply important person in my life for many years, floating in and out like a guardian angel when I am my deeply saddest and most lost; seemingly knowing exactly what to say and the right way to say it to pull me out of wherever it is my soul is trying to retreat. Not to say that I am some deeply enigmatic and nihilistic soul with no way through my crabby crustacean shell, but the universe (G-d? Who knows anymore?) has always found a way to set such transcendental and casually rational souls such as Carole into my path. One of my fondest memories is a random evening when she and Blinker showed up at Jackpot in full clown regalia after I had just barely met her and she enveloped me in one of the warmest and best hugs I can recall in real life, as if she had known and loved me her whole life.

Matt was someone I met when I staarted to meet Raleigh Kids outside of high school overflow. I had started spending my time with the notorious Rob Roy and he spent lots of time with this group of folks that circled around the kids Jenny (Wood!), Chris, Nancy (Brown!) and Matt, (who we called K-town, as he was from Kinston). Rob called him his “lawyer” ...Matt once posed as his attorney to get him out of a traffic ticket ages ago (this may have been a joke, but we still called him K-Town: Attorney at Law for years.) Time passed, folks moved on, “cliques” faded, merged, melted into one... I'd find myself at parties with crews of folks I'd never pick out of a lineup to know each other. I'd be on Bart's stoop on Chamberlain with hippies, punks, hipsters, art fags and sorority girls and I never knew how we all knew each other, but it was there that K-town came back into my life and Carole became a life-preserver and one of my soul's strongest advocates.

I am having trouble keeping it together now, as I am writing this in public and it's not in my best interest to break down at Cupajoe, so I will end this by saying that not since losing our dear friend Sean “Old School” Johnson a few years back, has my soul ached so badly for the loss of a friend. I have no comforting words for Carole or their family at the moment, (as I am stuck somewhere between the extreme anger/helpless grief phase myself,) and I don't ask you for yours. I would just ask that whoever you are, whether or not you know these two beautiful people, that you take a moment to revel in their love and feel blessed to know that such people like this existed on this planet in your lifetime. And if you get a moment, send a loving burst of hope and comfort to Carole, the kids, and their family.

Services for Matt will be this Saturday afternoon, the 11th, with a reception to follow at their home. Feel free to contact me at karlaanne@gmail If you would like to coordinate carpooling or need directions.


Donations for the family can be made here.

How to Summon a Whirlwind – Shake It Like A Caveman, Demon Eye, The 1975, and The Neighbourhood (And other assorted misadventures)

Upon returning from Costa Rica, I had managed to convince myself that if I was not meant to be with a certain ex of mine, it was therefore my destiny to be forever alone; unrequited and justified. Through a series of notoriously unplanned events, as is my tendency, the universe felt determined to prove to me once again, no matter how hard I fight it, I am not in charge. I am ready to accept this for the time being. (Ask me again in six months, who knows? Another existential crisis is always imminent!)

SO--- In an effort to take back some pride left on the floorboard of my soul's undercarriage I spent good deal of time brain picking and harassing one of my dear friends, Courtney, in an effort to make sense of the fact that I am 36 years old, still single, and still somehow convinced of the puppies-and-rainbows version of true love despite the indelible shitstorms life seems insistent on sending my way.

Within one week these things happened:

1) I reactivated my okcupid profile and edited it within an inch of its life, up to and including the following blurb:

“A guy I once went out with told me that my entire profile sounded like a manifesto for why I didn't want a boyfriend. I wouldn't say that's true; I prefer to think of this as me formally issuing a challenge upon the entire male population. Besides... I'd rather have a partner in crime than a boyfriend, any day.”

2) this text conversation happened:

Click to embiggen, obvs

3) I met This Guy, who we will affectionately call "DJ Roadtrip" going forward...

This is twice now that I have summoned the seemingly perfect man with a“Perfect Dude” list. The last one fucked me up for a long time, as all of Raleigh and specifically the Landmark Patio Crew can attest to. Taking a chance on this guy was risky. I hesitantly jumped in whole-heartedly.

Here a few of the actual items on the new list (which are absurdly descriptive of DJ Roadtrip):

-High fives when something is awesome and doesn't feel embarrassed

-supports local music, will rally with me through all of hopscotch, has favorite bands that inspires irrational passion and will dance with me at shows

-generous with compliments and tells me I'm pretty a lot

-creative & thoughtful gift giver / love letter writer

-will sing karaoke with me

These are the actual things I have so far observed about DJ Roadtrip:

1) I am good at the dreaming out loud, this guy is good at putting my abstract plans into action

2) As of yet there has not been one situation or suggestion that I have made that he has not (more or less) said “Why not?” to

3) As of yet, there has not been one situation or suggestion that he has made that I have not (more or less) said “Why not?” to

4) He does what he says he is going to do

5) He seems to continually one-up me on the spontaneity factor (completely acceptable)

6) He seems to continually one-up me on the new music sharing via YouTube, etc., factor (not sure how this is even possible)

7) Even his quirks have quirks

8) In this shortest span of time we have somehow already managed to cultivate our own language/universe/ecosystem of quirks and the inability to communicate with anyone outside of our symbiotic system seems imminent

Conclusion: The past couple weeks have been a fucking whirlwind of amazingness.

The beginning: He messaged me via okcupid the most obtuse and bizarre message I have yet to receive in my online dating career; it was more an obscure narrative than an intro message. I had to open and close the thing three times before I knew what to do with it. I eventually caved and responded. Less than 24 hours later I am sitting at The Pinhook with him and we're talking so fast over each other that anyone trying to eavesdrop would have been more than befuddled. Within the first hour or two of knowing him I realize; He's never met a stranger, He knows a thing or two about a thing or two, He reeks of Soul, and most importantly; whatever my tempo – slow and sweet or wildly staccato, He keeps my pace.

The evening somehow managed to see us racing from Durham back to Raleigh to my favorite dive-y karaoke night at Mission Valley Champions where the fool sang the Dandy Warhols' “Bohemian Like You”... Jesus. I'm still not sure if I've stopped swooning yet.

Next night? Want to hang out again? ...Of Course. Dinner and GIGANTIC drinks at Capital Club, a beer or two at Mecca and then a “Dance Party” of sorts at Neptune’s.

A Wee Draught at Cap Club!

This is what a typical Dance Party at Nep's consists of, didn't you know?

Night Three: Chapel Hill.

This was DJ Roadtrip's email to me:

So in Chapel Hill tonite, there's nobody playing the Cradle, and shows at Nightlight and Local 506 that I'm not too excited about.

BUT - I found one thing that looks pretty interesting, and it's at the Cave, of all places, and it's the opening band on a three-band bill.

See what you think.  Here's the show:

Small Town Gossip

12.12.2013
9:30 pm

$5 with Johnathan Loos, Shake it Like a Caveman http://www.smalltowngossipmusic.com/

and here's the interesting part:

http://www.shakeitlikeacaveman.com/pressbio/

also the videos on his website:

http://www.shakeitlikeacaveman.com/

Whaddya think?

;)

This is what we saw:

Holy Crap! You hear “One Man Band” and you think Dick Van Dyke in Mary Poppins, you think goofy bastards getting in your way at the fair; you never think Psychobilly delta blues or the lovechild of jack white and Muddy Waters. There was a brief “costume” change before his set, just standing to the left of his kick drum, he strips down to black sweatpants with skeleton bones printed down the leg. A trucker hat, 80s glasses... Honest to god if you didn't know what to expect you'd be sure that a big hot mess was about to erupt into your face. And the really cool thing about that is, that you did get face explosion – Of kickass danceblues! There was even a song with an audience participatory dance! Worth every penny of the $5 cover to the Cave, (which I had not been to since Mark Connor took over the place). The best part was that my buddy, sweet Emily Jane posted two days later to her facebook that she had wandered into Slim's and was watching one of the strangest and best one man bands ever to grace the stage – and who else could it be but the Caveman!

AUDIENCE PARTICIPATION!!1!1!!

After the high energy (albeit poorly attended, unfortunately) performance at the Cave, a folksy one-dude-playing-acoustic guy took the stage and DJ Roadtrip and I got antsy. He grabbed me by the hand and took me on random tour of the bar upstairs (DJ Roadtrip interjects here: "Have you forgotten our romantic visit to the deserted starlit rooftop?") and we wandered back down to the Cellar and back out the back of The Cave; running into another guy he knew (He knows EVERYONE! One night we might have to play a game and keep score? I have hence been informed this was Rob from The Spinns) So here it gets fuzzy (as I am wont to do, when liquor is involved and I'd decided it was a night of 7&7s...) so either this random guy reminded us that Demon Eye was playing Nightlight or I had some burst of cognitive prowess and somehow remembered – either way, we headed in that direction... He led the way, of course! Also, it stands to be noted that at some point during the show DJ Roadtrip introduced me to one of the former members of the band Archers of Loaf and I fan-girled myself into a full body flush! 

Aside:

I have lived in Raleigh my entire life, more or less. I have been to Chapel Hill infinite times. However, for whatever reason my mind has decided to block Chapel Hill entirely from my mind's map. Everyone has stupid things they are good at, I am notorious for my impeccable sense of direction. I go anywhere once and I can get to you there again, and probably with a shortcut. With the sole exception of Chapel Hill... It's like as soon as I make that first little veer to the right off 40 onto 54, my whole body tenses up and I go blank. I have been to Cat's Cradle or 506 approximately 8 billion times but I swear I couldn't tell you how to get there without an iPhone for the life of me. My theory on this is that being raised in Raleigh by an avid NCSU alumni for a dad I was reared with a mental block against all things UNC. It's either that, or the fact that I had my first actual panic attack at the Morehead Planetarium when I was 15. either way, Chapel Hill... It's a big black hole to me, seriously.

Demon Eye!!!

First of all, you should check Karen Mann's blog for pictures from DemonEye's show with Sinister Haze and Corpse Mountain at Slim's from12/11/13, as she is an outstanding photographer and exponentially better than me at capturing these guys' energy!

So, as you may know if you're familiar with my writing, this is mostly a narrative style review blog, so these shows are all basically the story of the evening with maybe a little bit of info tucked in here and there... maybe... so the things I have to say about Demon Eye are mostly personal, of course... Erik Sugg is one of the coolest and best people I know in real life! Not only is he hellaciously talented, fronting such bands as Demon Eye, Corvette Summer, Dragstrip Syndicate, and infinite side projects, but he's a DJ, a well known and deeply loved Public Librarian and Storyteller, and an all-around really decently awesome guy. Seeing him and his wife, Robin, out and about will always make my night! (Not to mention, he's a regular at my restaurant!) So that bragging aside, one of my very favorite things about Erik is (as with most things that are my favorite things) the delicious irony of the fact that he is genuinely one of the nicest people on the planet and then when he performs, he sounds like he just graduated top of the class from the Ozzy Osborne School of Hard Rock... One of my favorite memories is finally catching a Corvette Summer show after getting to know him from the restaurant and then watching in awe as his hair went flying! I've never seen someone rock so hard and make it sound so effortless!

So yes, in truth, Demon Eye is not typically the kind of music I find myself chilling out to on my rainy coffee shop afternoons... but their live show is no less than majestic! DJ Roadtrip said I needed to make sure I posted a link to "this bloodcurdlingly witchy video" (quoting him) to one of their songs...

Also, I wanted to make sure I linked to this article from Metal Temple that calls their new album "Leave the Light," a masterpiece!!! The album's official release date is 1/24/14. the Raleigh CD release show is Saturday, February 1st at Kings with COLOSSUS and Solar Halos! You can safely assume I'll be there and suffering major Metal-neck the next day!!!

If the Nightlight's a-rockin', you best come a-knockin!

The 1975 & The Neighbourhood: (106.5's Not-So-Acoustic X-mas), Neighborhood Theater, 12/13/13

So I haven't had a “guest blogger” in a long time, but seeing as how DJ Roadtrip is an actual "somewhat semi-pro journalist" (quoting him, again!), and he took actual notes from the show, I'm going to post his review after I give you a little backstory...

I discovered The 1975 through Spotify and was instantly in love. Peppy and Poignant, not unlike The Rapture, the big Pink or Hot Chip, these young British kids either have a dynamite management team behind them or they're just chockablock full of raw talent. Their wiki article seems legit, so I'm going with talent... This is probably one of my favorite albums of the year. So when I heard they were coming close-ish, I, of course, wanted on board. What I failed to note, however, was that this show had them teamed up with a top 40 hit band and was part of a local Charlotte radio station Christmas party... so the show, by the time I got my shit together enough to make an effort to make it happen, was long sold out. I put the bug in DJ Roadtrip's ear and he, being a guy who gets shit done, made some calls and this happened:

We Be Pressin'

So we took off on our first official road trip together, officially capitalizing the “w” in Whirlwind!

First of all, Priceline hooked us up with an almost 50% off deal at the Omni in downtown CLT (swanky!) and then we took off to catch up with the radio folks who had hooked us up with passes and had some pretty amazing food.

view from our room: A+!!!

Later, we headed out to the venue. Our passes afforded us VIP balcony seats and free beers – The show, needless to say, was fantastic. However, I was not ready for the fact that apparently both the 1975 and The Neighbourhood are tween hipster idols... the majority of the show was sporting black Xs across their hands (to which I walked in a few different times to the bathroom to girls scrubbing away furiously at their paws). The girly screams from the audience almost drowned out the bands, as their was literally no speakers or monitors on the balcony, our entire sound was coming from far below on the stage (an old venue, I guess. Oh well - Beggars can't be choosers!)

 

 

The show still sounded great, I love The 1975 and am really looking forward to their show at the Cat's Cradle in May 2014 and The Neighbourhood was pretty cool, even though I really only knew the one song that gets played on G105 like twice an hour. I did get the set list, which was utterly delightful!

"Sweadoo Weathoo"??! get outta here... too cute! 

And here's what DJ Roadtrip had to say about our adventure:

The show ended, and a dance party erupted in the art gallery corner of the Neighborhood Theater, in the heart of Charlotte's NoDa district.  Earlier in the night, the line for the ladies' room was so long it had stretched out almost into this space, which was right by the front entrance.  Maybe because The 1975 was making a lot of panties wet.  Judging by the screams that greeted their every move.  And The Neighbourhood, too.  It was out of control.  They had big monitors that showed people's live tweets about the concert, and women were tweeting stuff like, "Let me take you to brunch tomorrow," and "Can I come take my shoes off in your van?".  Perhaps their hearts were touched by that song Girls off their debut album.

We had met a couple sitting near the front of the venue right before The Neighbourhood came on, Jamie and her friend Sebastian, who was from Chile.  Jamie said that unlike most of the women we'd met so far, who were mostly into The 1975, she was a big Neighbourhood fan, and had dragged Sebastian along with her.  "I listen to the radio station a lot," she said, "and I heard about the show right when they announced it, so I bought tickets."  Good thing for her, because that shit sold out in four days flat.  After The Neighbourhood's set, Jamie was pumped.  "They were awesome!" she said.  "Now you know why I like them so much."

Anyway, we left the after-show dance party in search of another dance party.  Which may have been at another NoDa spot called Growler's, but we never found that place.  Because we got distracted by a padlocked joint that looked like a barn, the Rat's Nest.  Along the way, we ran into Jessica Hernandez and her band the Deltas, on tour out of Detroit.  They were playing down the street that night at the Evening Muse, fresh off a stop in Chapel Hill at Local 506 the night before, and heading to Baltimore the following night.  Jessica and all her bandmates were very cool, and there's a trombonist on board!  He was a big Fred Wesley fan. 

  

We wound up at Jack Beagle's, which was reco'd to us by Lee and his longtime girlfriend Kirsten.  Lee told us that on Wednesdays, a blues guitarist in his mid-20s named Skinny Velvet usually plays.  "When he performs," said Lee, "he entertains the crowd with his whole body."  Lee also claimed we'd find a dance party there, but no dice.  In fact, the night's band had just finished playing when we rolled up.  Although we immediately met all the members of the Sore Cocks, the greatest QOTSA tribute band that never was.  And "Comfortably Numb" came on the sound system.  The smells coming out of the kitchen were intoxicating, and we found a table and ordered some incredibly tasty late night food.

Then we had time to catch our breath and properly reflect on the night's events.

Unlike Jamie, the three co-eds from Atlanta who I talked with were all smitten with The 1975.  Hannah, Caitlyn, and Catherine said they'd been "glued to the internet" watching 106.5's website, waiting for this show to be announced.  After The 1975 finished their set, they got to meet singer/guitarist Matt Healey, who gave them one of his picks.  

They were so psyched they were bouncing up and down.  And when I met them they were switching outfits for The Neighbourhood's set.  Because really, it's not a rock show unless you can change costumes in the hallway.

A couple more really good songs came on at Jack Beagle's - Cold Hard Bitch by Jet, and Private Eyes, a lil' blue-eyed soul courtesy of Hall & Oates.  We decided they serve the best waffle fries on the planet.  "Chik-fil-A's wishes they had waffle fries like these," said Karla.  "Ones not seasoned with homophobia." You tell it, girl!  Then they suddenly cut off Life In The Fast Lane.  Because whoever was in charge of the satellite feed decided that the far better track was Rivers (Of the Hidden Funk).  Co-written by Don Felder and Joe Walsh, and a failed contender for inclusion on The Long Run, but resurrected for There Goes The Neighborhood, Joe's solo album from 1981.

DJ Roadtrip ponders the universe and continues:

The night before, we had met Chris from Corpse Mountain as he was loading out.  They opened for Demon Eye at Nightlight in Chapel Hill, but we missed their set.  Chris implied they sound like a mountain of corpses all screaming at once, which would be pretty epic.

Earlier that afternoon at the Heist Brewery, after we missed the acoustic set that The 1975 played a few hours before the concert, we were telling Andrew our server about Demon Eye.  And he turned us on to Deathlehem.  They perform in full medieval armor, slaying their audiences with GWAR-style sludge metal. Later, at the Neighborhood Theater, we saw a painting of Deathlehem's disciples at the Heavy Metal Last Supper.

The next day, on the drive back from Charlotte, Karla asked me with a straight face, "Did you know that Humpty once got busy?"  I shook my head in disbelief.  "Yeah," she said, "in a Burger King bathroom."  A little while later, we listened to Tommy Roe keepin' things Dizzy.  Karla makes the best roadtrip playlists I have ever heard, no joke about that.

Anyway, Lee and his girlfriend Kirsten had been looking at the Deathlehem-esque painting with us.  And later, at Jack Beagle's, we ran into them again, out on the incredible patio that was kept warm with industrial sized heaters, big pipes with heat pouring out of 'em, burning the whole place up even though it was 40 degrees outside.

At the concert, we talked with a lot of the folks who worked at the Neighborhood Theater, including Daniel, who was holding things down at the door, and Chelsea, who tried to get us backstage so Karla could take some closeups of the band.  When that didn't work out, she kept us and the rest of the balcony supplied with very tasty hefeweizens from another nearby NoDa brewery.  There's a lot of breweries around there!  Like we heard Woody from 106.5 say on the radio as we were heading back to our hotel, use that brand new app that all the kids with twenty bucks to burn are using to call yourself a cab if you've been hanging out late night in NoDa, especially if you've been sampling DZL's new double IPA at the Heist Brewery, which will kick your ass.  Gratuitous product placement plug, but I thought it was pretty delicious.

Overall, it was a fun show, and a good time was had by all.  Especially the dude I saw exiting the men's room during The Neighbourhood's last song with a lady on each arm.  The female pheromones unleashed at this event were truly a force of nature!

So with Charlotte officially conquered, we toddled back to town in a total downpour and like any proper whirlwind, there was an aftermath... a cold so severe it turned into bronchitis that knocked me on my back for almost an entire week... I'm just now starting to peel myself from the couch. The deliciously ironic end to the story is that DJ Roadtrip had to pick up a day or so later to leave for up north where his family resides until mid January or so, but not before he accompanied me to Landmark's annual Christmas party...

I pity the fool who don't respect the patio!

It was a perfect crescendo to perfect whirlwind. So the question remains, will the storm continue in January or will those few perfect days remain a memorial to my stubbornly high ideals of love and partner-in-crimedom? ...Only time will tell!

Until then, I remain, your ever faithful eternal optimist and live music junky.

Xoxo

ka