I hadn't been to a rock show in almost two years, so Tuesday night was like a cheeseburger for the soul after a hunger strike. It began with a draft porter in a thick glass and a Dolly Parton pinball machine. It ended with an unapologetic statement that there would be no encore which was followed by two final, blistering songs. And there was a whole lot of good stuff packed in between. I was suddenly reminded of just how many things can contribute to a great music experience. Things like...
The venue. Porter and Dolly weren't the only great aspects of Zanzibar in Louisville. There was an entire pit of pinball machines. The booths were pulled from some fifties-era diner -- white plastic backs with red-speckled upholstery. The air smelled of a deep fryer that hadn't been changed in years. The stage was a riser and some black curtains hastily set up in front of a wall of vintage arcade games. Q*bert was played. Galaga was cursed. Zanzibar was my kind of place. It was full of unexpected treats, including...
The opening act. He was a guy who knew the sound guy and talked his way into playing before the main show. Such is the life of the opening act. Those folks who fly under the radar are often some of the most enjoyable to catch live, especially if you don't have any context or predispositions -- a surprise amuse-bouche before the main course. One of those folks found his way onto the stage on Tuesday. We were treated to a man with a guitar, a vocal harmonist and a hell of a lot to say. I would tell you to go buy John Clay's album, but he's still working on it. In the meantime, you should check out this clip of an original song that was really well received by...
The crowd. It was like something out of a Sam Cooke song. There was the drunken businessman in expensive shoes with his tie still on, but yanked defiantly to one side. Of course, he spilled beer all of the band's equipment and his expensive shoes; and, of course, it was beer he had bought for them. There were the twenty-something, nearly teeny boppers who swayed back and forth and sang with their eyes closed. There were the diehard fans who knew every word to every song and shouted along all the way. But mostly, it was the best kind of crowd; it was hundred or so people who all entered into an unspoken pact to ride the wave wherever it took us. And where it took was soooo good because of...
The set list. American Aquarium has a deep catalogue and are supporting a new album, Wolves. Even so, the songs they chose were perfect. They played some new stuff and they played the songs they knew they had to play, but it was clear that they also played a lot of songs they just WANTED to play. An up-tempo cover of John Prine's "Spanish Pipedream" left some fans scratching their heads and others howling with joy, but all dancing where they stood. They dropped in the slow, country-tinged "Betting Man" to give the crowd quick break before putting balls firmly back to wall for the duration. They closed the set with the back-to-back gut-punches of "I Hope He Breaks Your Heart" and "Burn, Flicker, Die" and left us all feeling satisfied and still desperately wanting more. But that was the end. Except for...
The afterglow. After the last bit of feedback from the song faded, lead singer BJ Barham put down his guitar, stepped of the riser and walked out into the crowd. There were pictures and autographs and conversations -- lengthy conversations. He had time and appreciation for anybody who wanted to talk. When I mentioned to him that I was glad to hear them play "Betting Man" because it was my introduction to the band, he actually remembered what my reaction in the crowd had been. (And no, it had not been an extreme reaction.) I overheard him tell someone else that all he really wanted was to have the crowd grow by ten people at each show. My overall rating of the concert is this -- the next time American Aquarium plays Z-bar, I will be there and I will invite eleven friends.
