We Saw The Light

say boom boxGentle Reader, I listen to music constantly; ear buds in, I wrap myself in the musical arms of whichever style and artist I’m in the mood for.  Often, and alarmingly, I sing along, although my dulcet tones would sound more appropriate coming from rusty machinery or a bag of broken glass thrown out a window.live musicBut there’s something about live music.  The give and take between artist and audience.  The shared affection of large groups for performer.  Nuance and spontaneity that cannot exist in recordings.

It’s been many years since I’ve been to a concert and I didn’t remember how much fun a live performance can be—it’s like when you reunite with someone after many years apart; you’ve forgotten how much you actually love being around them.shakey audio treeLast weekend The Kid and I went to the Ritz, in Raleigh, to see Shakey Graves, a blues/rock/country troubadour.  He had two opening acts.

The first was Kate Rhudy, a folksinger and songwriter.  Her music was entertaining, but, her red-headed bass player stole the segment.  He had the most magnificent mullet I’ve ever seen.  It was haircut, fashion statement, and lifestyle choice.  It deserves its own fan club.sweet mulletThe next band was Illiterate Light.  Historically, opening acts are place-holders.  They are something to get through until the guy you came to see comes on.

Then drummer Jake Cochran and guitarist Jeff Gorman performed.

Firstly, they were a two-man band, which takes a particular kind of bravery and skill; the fewer music-makers onstage, the more attention is paid to each. ill lightDuring their first song, I decided they weren’t bad.  Then they went into their second number, and along with the entire crowd, I watched it with my jaw on the ground.  These guys were amazing.  I could feel the delighted astonishment that flowed through the crowd.  We were all musical Madame Curie’s and they were our discovery—we were instant fans.ill light 3Cochran had an endearing charm, the cheeky good humor that drummers are famous for, and the ability of the best classic rockers.  Gorman’s guitar riffs and electronic sound manipulation had us all cheering and gasping in near-unison.  Their singing and performances were glorious and so full of emotion, that at one point I was afraid the boys might have a stroke.  Their cover of Neil Young’s Vampire Blues was so exciting and intense I wanted a cigarette when it was over.ill light 2They’ve recently been signed by a major recording label which will soon release the first single.  I will keep you informed with date and info.

They were so good I felt like I was in Hamburg, watching the Beatles in 1962.  They were so good, I wasn’t sure Shakey could top them.

I needn’t have worried about him following Illiterate Light.  He came out and his talent, skill, and charisma blew us all away.shakey caseAs musical “All About Eve” scenarios faded from my head, Graves played his first song, Roll The Bones with guitar and the one-man, foot-operated percussion instrument he’d designed and used during his tenure as the officially designated busker on the Mumford and Sons tour.Shakey 2He played songs like Counting Sheep and Kids These Days from his new album, Can’t Wake Up.  The stage backdrop was the beautiful color-saturated artwork he’d created for its cover.  It was at various times hard-rocking, funny, and touching.  His sweet yet funny song, Dearly Departed had everybody singing along.  It was a thrill seeing him performing the first tune of his I’d ever heard, Late July.

During Shakey’s set, The Kid smiled at me and said, “I’ll bet you have your column for tomorrow, don’t you?”20190511_225518I just smiled and nodded my head along to the music.

Thanks for your time.

Sing! Um, Debbie…why don’t you hum?

When The Kid was in middle school, if there were a few minutes to kill at the end of class, one of the teachers had a game.  He’d play short snippets of songs from the 70’s or 80’s and the students would attempt to “Name That Band”.

The Kid participated three times, then was prohibited from playing again.

The reason?  The Kid smoked those classmates like a Smithfield ham.  My child was infallible.  And with this walking database competing, the other students never stood a chance.

The lifetime ban was imposed on The Kid; but the fault lay with me, my mom, and my big brother, Homer.

She actually owned this album.

Since birth, I was around music.  As a teenager, my bobby-soxer mom rushed home from school each day to watch American Bandstand.  In those days, the show was on live from Philadelphia; Mom lived about an hour away.  A very young Dick Clark was the host (think Ryan Seacrest with more teeth, hair, and charm), and they had a regular cast of dancers.  My mom knew the name and back story of each one.

So, I was bathed in fifties rock and roll from birth.  I was the only toddler on the block who knew the difference between Chubby Checker (The Twist) and Fats Domino (Ain’t That a Shame, Blueberry Hill).  In kindergarten, my heroes were Captain Kangaroo, Chuck Berry, and Bobby Sherman (I thought he was cute).

See?  I told you he was cute.

Then my brother became a musical mentor.  At seven I was convinced Rod Stewart and Janis Joplin were siblings because they had similar gravelly voices.  I loved The Band’s album, “Music from the Big Pink”, because I was enchanted with the idea of living in a pink house.  My favorite songs were the Beatle’s “Maxwell Silver Hammer”, never knowing that the catchy tune was about a violent lunatic on a killing spree, and “Cecelia” from Simon and Garfinkle, blissfully unaware of the equally adult theme of desertion by a faithless lover.

My groovy tape player.  And my tapes were stored in a special cassette suitcase.

I started high school just before the premiere of MTV and videos of popular music.  If I wasn’t watching music on TV, I was listening to it on the radio or my bright yellow portable cassette player.  One of my very first dates with Petey was to a Rod Stewart concert (Here’s something both crazy and heartbreaking: the tickets were $8 each).The Kid was born to Cab Calloway’s “Minnie The Moocher” and raised with all kinds of music.  At 4, my child became the coolest kid in preschool when our family went to an Aerosmith concert.  Whenever we were in the car, the radio was on, and music from the 70s and 80s was playing.

And, we were playing “Name That Band”.  Which brings us back to the middle school prohibition.

So, there has been a soundtrack to the whole of my life.

An actual photo of me, at a concert.

But here’s the thing.  I can’t sing, and my musical ability is nil.  Despite a year of lessons, I can neither play the flute nor read music.  To play a tune, I manually counted out the note on the sheet music, then looked up the fingering.  In that manner, it takes about six weeks to play the opening to “Silver Bells”.  My band teacher kindly suggested that during concerts I replace my flute playing efforts with motion, but no sound.

In response to earnest familial entreaties, I have promised to never sing out loud.

But if Sinead O’Conner’s belting out “Nothing Compare 2U”, Billy Preston’s crooning to “Mrs. Jones”, or Foreigner’s singing anything, all bets are off, and they know to cover their ears, and/or leave the room.Thanks for your time.