Rock On

So after recommendations from CC about some top notch entertainment, and confirmation by Betty and other friends that the venue was also worthwhile, DrChako and I headed out for our first date in . . . well, since 2007. Pre-deployment. A collective 35+ pounds ago.

New red Lexus. Ballard. Tractor Tavern. Kaki King. Matt Sheehy as the opening act.


Great first date back. Kaki is an extremely talented woman with fast little fingers and a wide range of musical style. DrChako posted a video I took of one of her bits. She is this petite little thing that looks a little like Hillary Swank's cousin. So petite, in fact, that I found myself thinking "those are not child-birthing hips". Don't know why I even thought that. Poor thing had the flu and sounded like she was about to lose her voice at any moment, but kept playing with passion (fortunately, much of her set is instrumental only).



Observations from the evening?

1. Love live music. Love standing there absorbing the bass line and drums through the soles of my feet, activating that internal seismograph low in my belly. Feeling the guitar make the rest of my body hum. Being able to move unconsciously without feeling self-conscious (not that I ever really feel self-conscious about singing and dancing to music I like).


2. Love live music in this kind of venue. Everyone standing (there are only 7 chairs/barstools in the place), everyone there for the music, 10 feet from the stage, unpretentious.


3. Love the mix of people it attracts. There was the tall dude with the really large fluffy hair who chose to stand in FRONT of us. The poor petite lesbian couple who had to stand behind us AND tall guy with the big hair. The really drunk guy yelling "HOOOO-RAY" at Kaki in between songs. The dude with the ginger 'fro. The older Asian woman who could have been everyone's grandmother. The adorable chick who decided to wear a distinctly ugly duck-hunting cap and still managed to look cute. The quiet, pensive guy with the shaved head. The trio of young guys at the bar who bought an extra shot of Jagermeister and asked me to join in (I downed it like a man).


4. Love this kind of venue. It's college meets grown-up life. No extensive frou-frou drink menu - beer on tap and well drinks from plastic cups and shots of Jager in little dixie mouthwash cups. Except the beer on tap is something better than PBR or Keystone or Milwaukee's Best or whatever you got in college. But you can still get a can of PBR, if you want. Wear whatever you want (read, jeans, don't bother with the club clothes 'cause no one cares). Tiny bathrooms, with long, but friendly, lines of girls and lots of grafitti. Not a meat market, but I'm sure if I'd been in the mood to hook up, I still could have.


5. Love the garage band feel. Reminds me of going out and watching my friend's bands play, playing the groupie role, sitting around watching them practice. Which, excepting the psycho ex boyfriend that went with it, were pretty good times.


6. Love the quirky personalities of musicians. Drummers are in their own little world. All the time. Which makes them look alternately beautiful (when they are really engrossed in some wicked beat) and autistic (the rest of the time). Bassists are always kind of the odd guys (but I always like them because I can feel the bass line the most in my body - can't do without it). Guitarists are passionate and egotistical and make horrible faces when they play. Like they are simultaneously in pain, about to throw up, or potentially having a seizure. Then they smile, like a 7-year old that just found a new bike under the Christmas tree. Although I felt like smacking the other guitarist. He was always watching Kaki with this goofy-ass expression like "Isn't she amazing (I'm clearly more talented)? Kaki, you are the best(wait 'til I go solo). What passion you have (I have WAY better chops than you, skinny bitch)." Maybe I'm reading way to much into his goofy mug. Although I think my husband felt the same.
   

All in all, a great evening.

Respectfully submitted,

The Wife