just another night in the neighborhood

Last night we decided to walk downtown, get some coffee, and maybe grab a quick dinner before heading back home to continue working on a little recording project we've been experimenting with. While we were waiting for our food, Jon noticed a poster advertising a concert at a little theatre down the street. He told me who it was. "Ray Lamontagne. . . ," I thought, "haven't I heard that name somewhere? Yes! I just read an article about him in Paste Magazine!" We started talking about how much fun it would be to go over and see if there were tickets, not really expecting it to work out. We came to the conclusion that if it was meant to be, there would be tickets when we got to the theatre. Two seats were waiting for us when we arrived. We snatched them up and waited for the doors to open.

David Ford was first on stage, and was the most compelling opener we can remember seeing in a long time. He looped his voice, piano and guitar parts, and some suitcase-pounding percussion to fill out his one-man show. I've been working on writing lyrics lately and have struggled with trying to make every single line beautiful and somewhat complex. David's songs told me that it isn't lyrics alone that will make our songs good. It's the way the music, the lyrics and our presence all work together to create an experience for listeners. It was a welcomed message from something outside of myself, and I tucked it into a place in my memory where I'd be able to take it out and read it frequently

During the intermission, Jon got up for a moment. The next thing I knew, he had dropped into the seat next to me and whispered into my ear, "LOOK BEHIND YOU." I made a half-assed attempt at being nonchalant about turning my head to look, and hopefully had no visible reaction when I saw this guy:

The music began again. Ray's calming music and whispery voice put me in a state of stillness I usually only find when I have spent an entire day relaxing. A couple of songs later, he started to open up his voice and really let it loose. Damn! This man had a vocal depth and power that completley knocked me over. In between songs, we started hearing a very drunk audience member in the aisle just to our right making his requests known to Ray. "EVERY TIME!" he shouted. I suppose that's the name of a song he wanted to hear. Jon had a better view of him than I did, and leaned over to inform me, "He's taking off his shoes now. oh.. . and socks." When I finally looked over, he also had his shirt off. I quickly looked away, not wanting this inebriated man to ruin my experience. But out of the corner of my eye, I could not help but notice the form of this shirtless man dancing in a very oompa-loompa sort of way, and I started to laugh. And Jon started to laugh. And Ted Danson started to laugh. Mr. Shirtless, who was sporting a lovely pair of suspenders over his flat chest, was swinging his arms around in a circle as fast as he could, and none of us could STOP LAUGHING.

The show was good, we walked home and went to bed. Yep, just another uneventful night in our neighborhood.