The Del Lords ride into NYC on a summer storm after 23 years

6/29/13 15:50

I checked the Del Lords site and saw…drum roll please by the drum master…Frank Funaro…The Del Lords were playing Thursday at Bowery Electric, their first NYC appearance in 23 years.  To be fair the band played a couple of years back in the city at the now closed historic Lakeside Club, but that night the band played under the thin veil as rumors swirled… The Elvis Club.  That show and another at a house party in Rhode Island was a prelude for a summer/ Spanish tour back in 2010.  I bought my ticket for Bowery Electric and you know the deal, who wants to go email was sent out to the likely candidates, can’t do it, not permitted, hosting a training session…hold everything; it’s The Del Lords in New York city, it’s like July 1984 came swirling in with the rains and humidity and like a blast of the past.  After getting a veggie sandwich and a homemade lemonade from the vendor, I headed over to the club and went down stairs.  The place was packed, but I saw Frank setting up and went over to say Hi.  Frank grew up around the corner from me and would tell his sister Jill to tell me whenever the band played on Long Island.  I saw a few times, Sparks in Huntington.  Waited outside Horse Feathers in East Northport, and saw them play The Ritz and of course the classic night The Del Lords opening for The Smithereens at Fordham.  So, when I saw Frank and called out to him, he gave me a thumbs up.  I made my way to the bar; climbing up steps and then back down to the floor with the pint in glass, found a place next to a rustic brick wall.  The place was jammed with thin and worn men and women with grey hair and sagging breasts, faded tattoos, but there was a spirit in the room that was undeniable, an excitable resonance for our old hearts and ears, the secret was out… The Del Lords are back. The men walked down a stair case and took their positions on the stage…Scott said, “How’s everyone doing?  It’s been a long time…” and the crisp music blared amongst calls of, “We missed you!”  “Welcome back!”

The Del Lord’s voices were strong and I was impressed with Eric Ambel taking the lead vocals as well as incredible licks as the lead guitarist.  Their sound is fuller, more mature and there was an ease on the stage, they enjoyed each other and could sense the energy as people danced and rocked their heads to pure American Rock and Roll…

Set List:

Drug deal

I’m gomna be around

Cheyenne

Burning in the flame of love

Flying

When the drugs kick in

Poor man

Judas kiss

Damaged

Me and the lord blues

About you

Get tough

I play the drums

Encore: heaven and southern pacific

I hung out with Frank for awhile, even helping to take some of his equipment to back stage.  Frank introduced me to Eric and Mike DuClos their new bassist, as well as to Scott and mentioned to them I grew up a 100 yards from his house and I saw the band way back in the day.  I hope the day doesn’t set for this band, hope they keep on down this road they’re heading on and making taking on more fans.  On the way home I listened to their new album, The Elvis show.  The album is diverse and sets their music on different roads.  It’s stripped down more than their heavily produced albums from more than twenty years ago. This gem opens up with the catchy, When the Drugs Kick in…Here I go….here I go again…as if they didn’t stop playing or partying since 1990.  I was impressed with countdown and the slide guitar on Chicks man, I assume that’s Eric on the slide.  Flying which is also very catchy, “Everyone loves a winner, till they get too big…”  Scott sings an emotionally, “All of my Life”…I put out that fire before it starts…the Buddy Hollyish pop Everyday….which has the band singing back up which was their unique sound.  Me and The Lord Blues sounds like a heavy metal song and is different from the other songs on the album, “Where is my God of Mercy…is killing me…” The slow Mississippi drawl of You can make a Mistake one time, carries on the heavy load of distorted feedback as if they recorded this on one take in a grungy basement…save me from myself…one time…she told me my very existence was a sin…while Frank taps a steady beat with a click clack…then there is the easy listening Silverlake, it’s just a matter of time. The album closes with a powerful rendition of Neil Young’s Southern Pacific.  This album is the what you want to listen to when you're driving on the highway, taking the family out on a long drive and you can slip into the streams and watch steam rising off the road.

It was the first and last time We Were Promised Jetpacks played at Maxwells

6/16/13 19:09 Home

On Friday night Amanda said the band responded to her and she and one guest were on their guest list at Maxwells.  I have to give her credit, she is persistent.  I am feeling the pain of a long night, sitting in the room half awake and sore from playing three hours of basketball with the guys from work yesterday morning.  What time do they go on? I asked.  She checked – the doors open at 10 PM.  What?  Yeah, there is another band playing there at 7 PM.  We left the house at 6:45. I figured we’d get to Hoboken, get something to eat and walk around the city before we went inside.  I don’t like tunnels, as some may know, but the traffic was light as we drove under the East and Hudson rivers.  I am getting used tunnels and don’t avoid them like I used to.   In Hoboken, I bought some cheap Jersey gas and parked the car and we walked to Maxwells.  Hoboken has some beautiful brownstones, young families walking with strollers and little kids who were cheerful on their scooters ringing their bells.  We both liked the quaint town and found Maxwells.  There they are, Amanda said.  Let’s go and thank them.  I don’t want to.  We walked in behind them and said thank you to Mike who was getting some cash at an ATM machine, he said something cheerful. We were seated next to a window.  The band ate in the center of the dining room.  Finally, I walked up to Sean who turned around and said, “Hey Mike, you’re here.”   I was surprised he remembered my name and I asked if I can buy them a round.  He thanked me and said they were planning to go to another pub before the sound check.  “Amanda is on the other side of the wall if you’d like to say hello.  Sure.   He came over and asked where we were from, Long Island.  I reminded him of speaking to Amanda on her birthday and he said he remembered as well as meeting us in Philadelphia.  I didn’t know we were going on so late, he said sort of apologizing for a late night.  No worries.  So, you’re leaving tomorrow?  Yeah, after tonight we’re going to Brooklyn and spending the night there and then flying out.   Mo Cheeks and I took a walk down to the river to see the city, it was a clear night and I pointed out the marquee in Times Square.  We walked on slabs for a sidewalk, a tree laded street, a quiet neighborhood with gates and brown stones.  The homes were pristine.  This is why the market is so high within Hoboken, it’s a beautiful city.  We went in and took our spots a few rows back.  At 11 PM, the lights flickered and the band strolled through the packed crowd and walked onto the stage.  Random thoughts like this could be my last show at Maxwells since it's closing for good in weeks, who were the guests who will play with them, is that pot I smell?  What?  The scent of beer and a brown haired girl with straight hair…they are on.  The stage is smaller than Stony Pony, the drum set is up against the back wall.  Sean still moved as best he could and had an intense glare at times, Mike on lead strummed with closed eyes and leaned down a few times as he played.  What a full sound emanated from his speakers, I honed in on him.  The sellout crowd was at times boisterous, like the guy who double fisted his beers and told everyone around he was buying them a drink.  “What are you drinking?  He called out after most songs.  Scotland!  And there were times when the crowd sounded like a choir as we sang in broken beer drenched voices with Adam.  Their first and last night playing at Maxwell's, the last night in America on this short tour and this was a show they wanted us to remember.  After the first couple of songs, Adam asked if the the stage light shining on his face from the low ceiling could be turned off.  Once it was darkened…night crept onto the stage, their speakers and machines were dotted by tiny colored lights like stars in a clear night.  The band appeared like dim shadows against the dark back drop.   It became even more intimate in the room for all of us.  And like a snap of a finger Adam thanked the audience for coming and the band went into It’s thunder and it’s lightening…the show was over.    Amanda is now recognized; Adam saw her after the set and called out to her.    Darren, their drummer recognized her as well and thanked her for coming.  We spoke to Mike for a couple of minutes since Amanda wanted to say thank you again to Sean.  I asked Mike when is their next release?  He said it’s a live album which they working on…once that is released they’d be back in the states for another tour.   And we will be there for at least two nights.  This morning I pulled the car into the driveway at 2:30, slowly with sore muscles I got out and looked up at the clear sky; the stars were out and it was all worth it, Amanda was happy.  I am one cool dad this Father's day morning.

Driving in the rain to see We Were Promised Jetpacks at The Stone Pony 6/13/13

I heard the weather was not as bad as expected, the flooding would be minimal.  Still, through the rains and at times pounding and torrential... Amanda and I made it safely to Asbury Park, NJ in good time from Port Jefferson.  We paid for parking on the street and walked inside.  The Stony Pony has a large stage, a sound man on the right and the engineer – in the back of the room - moving the controls.   It was packed with fans that watched and danced to the first band, The Static Jacks who were very good, their lead singers dancing reminded me a little of Morrissey.  Amanda saw Sean the bassist hanging out at the bar and she asked someone to take a picture of them.  Both of us are getting to know We Were Promised Jetpacks a little more.  I’d say.  This was the first time she met the whole band since Adam and Mike were close by with beers in hand and I took her picture with them.  The whole band is very nice. They are not what I’d expect from young rock stars, they don’t get drunk or have women hanging all over them which helps me when Amanda says she wants to marry their bassist Sean.   Their set was only about a half hour and they were prompt to get on stage, I told Sean after he removed his ear plugs that The Stone Pony was a popular landmark, Springsteen played there as well as Bon Jovi.  “Did you see we are playing with them?”  He asked.  I did.  I took my place in the back of the venue to watch the crowd’s reaction.  There were some older fans like myself wearing WWPJP t-shirts who like me bobbed their heads and sang along.  I was impressed with the way the crowd surged and danced.   I watched three men high five each other the moment they recognized what song was being played.  Adam’s voice was strong, he walked around the stage, strummed his guitar and sung with closed eyes, thanked the crowd and Ra Ra Riot for having them.  One song they did which has not been released is Peace Sign. After they played they cleared the stage of their equipment.  Mike gave Amanda the set list.  We asked about the show at Maxwells which was sold out, and if there was a way they’d put us on their guest list.  I know, it's bold,   Amanda also asked Sean and each said to send them a message on Twitter and they’d see if they can do it, but since it was so close to New York City...they were clear...no promises.  It was late and we saw who we wanted to and left before seeing Ra Ra Riot.  We drove back home, back in the heavy rain, through floods and thick puddles and made it back at a decent hour...12:30…I was up five hours later for work...back into the grind.

Bukowski Rakes it in at Belmont

5/27/13 21:40

Since I mowed and raked into the night I gave myself a rest today.  It is memorial day and a time to consider the men and women who sacrificed their lives for us.  I worked a little, cleaned out the toilets and then took Emma and Bella to Belmont.  That makes two of my summer goals notched down for this year.  A Pawtuckett Red Sox game and horse racing Belmont.  It was a beautiful day to be at the track, not too hot or cool.  The sky was clear although for Bella the ride was longer than she expected.  I took out sixty and came back with less than ten dollars.  Ten for Emma and I to get in.  Twenty for fries and two pretzels, a beer and hot chocolate, and a soda, more fries and drinks except not another beer although I could have gone for another.  And we bet close to ten dollars on two races.  Emma took some great pictures.  I wanted to be there since I read one of Bukowski’s last books, The Captain in Out…it was more of a journal.  Each day he spent  at the tracks and saw the pitiful faces of the betters who were looking for that strike.  The ghosts were there.  Bukowski was contemplating his next wager.  I saw the skeletons and canes, screaming at the horses as they turned the bend, getting up close to the track and waving, holing their tickets or for a few - jumping for joy with dangling cigarettes, small hats, beat up chests...they assumed this is was it feels like to be a winner.  Thin old men with tired eyes some spending $4 on a draft beer.  Man with an opened shirt and gold watches and slicked back hair buying a hot dog like it was his last meal on earth.  The scattered ripped tickets covering the floor; the remnants of lost dreams…the accents of poorly dressed dark men who appeared to contain so much knowledge of the races, speaking Creole, talking out loud and smiling easily. Beer cans.  Cigarettes, cigars, the desperation in the faces as their tired bodies wilt after the race…the men who for the most part sit alone and take in the elements, the flying dirt, the romance of a dying tradition.  I thought of Bukowski.  Imagined he was sitting across from me.  I’d see him circle a winner in his racing forum and follow him up to a window.  Excuse me, Bill Blake I presume?  Yeah or Li Po.  This is what New York is all about baby.  Take some cash and make it happen on the horses.   I am changing my profile picture on Google since Emma’s picture was good.  Came home and Ali was making a BBQ.  Had another beer with dinner.  Ali and I discussed the summer, asking the girls to alternate days to take care of Joe and Bella.  I wanted us to just be.  No plans just chill out.  But that didn’t work.  I had another beer outside. I can fall asleep now.

Thank you for reading this.

The PawSox vs The Durham Bulls

5/4/13 08:51 Stoughton, MA

I wanted to write for a few minutes since I will be leaving this town to pick up Mo Cheeks and bringing her home.  Her school year is over and we are all looking forward to having her back in our daily lives.  I’m curious how the bomb experience impacted her.  Yesterday I left Port Jeff around 12:00 and made it to Pawtuckett Rhode Island to see the Paw Sox take on the Durham Bulls.  On the way up I hit traffic just after Stamford, but I gave myself enough time. I was in Bridgeport by two and was set to be at McCoy Stadium at 5 PM.  On the way up I saw a terrible accident, what appeared to be a minivan that crashed in the woods.  A Helicopter was parked, motionless on the highway.  A cherry picker was trying to hook up the van since it ran up a hill and was deep within the trees.  Yellow plastic bags were laid out on the ground, were their bodies in there?  Then again I noticed ambulances heading West earlier, maybe they carried the passengers, then why the helicopter?  Traffic was at a standstill, cars were parked on 95, the drivers and passengers were out, one man climbed up a hill in hopes to see ahead of the cars, but he was too far back. A minivan with kids had their windows open and small heads craned to see the devastation and violence that occurred.  Keep moving.  You’re too young to see it.  I made it to Pawtucket and thought I’d have a couple of hours to kill, but the game started a little after six.   You drive through the small city to get to the stadium and can easily get lost.  Free parking till it fills up.

 I bought a ticket from a scalper for 10, in the green section.  I was inside the historic stadium early enough to watch the ground keepers, sweep around the batter’s box so there was not a foot print anywhere, the surface was smooth like brown ice.  I sat with a family.  The dad sold the ticket to the scalper who sold it to me.  The wife said I looked liked someone she knew.  I have one of those common faces except for my Roman nose.  That makes an indelible impression.  She agreed.  The grandmother wanted to share popcorn with me, really nice people, but I sat next to the father a big guy around my age with a booming voice who cared less about the game and more about the beer.  Before the game some players sign autographs, the fans place balls and cards in empty milk jugs that are tied to string and lower it down to the player.   It was a cold night and difficult to see the game with the glare of the setting sun.  The Sox won the game.  I got a foul ball and I made it to the hotel in about a half hour.  Time for a beer. 

How cancer can lead to a positive awakening

This may be the first posting written by someone else within the pages of this blog.  I thought it was inspiring message when I heard it the first time last Sunday during church.  Cancer effects all of us, we know of someone we lost or have battled it ourselves.  It's our worst fear, but we can learn how to cope and live with it.  My wife was articulate and poised behind the podium - although once or twice she broke down while reading this.  I heard the sniffles and saw others wiping their eyes.  It's an inspirational story, not only about how Ali became a cancer survivor, but how this deadly disease transformed her faith - how she became a stronger - independent woman. I hope this inspires you.

Rev. Diane and I have spoken several times about sharing my faith story with the Congregation. I wasn’t ready for a long time. The preparation for today was difficult. Many of you know that I was diagnosed with cancer in June of 2011. But this isn’t a story about cancer, or beating cancer. It’s not about treatment and side effects. It’s about the most important relationships in our lives, and what happens when we recognize them as just that.

My story begins before my diagnosis. I was coming out of a very difficult time. Depressed, feeling worthless. I had just begun to realize it was my own responsibility to do something about that. I needed to answer for myself the age old question, “Who am I?’ So with the incredible support of my husband and children, I focused on my passion for public education, and ran for the Board of Education. On May 17^th, I won my seat with a large margin, and felt like this was the beginning of a fabulous new journey. Just 2 weeks later, on June 1, I was diagnosed with Endometrial cancer; Stage 4b. My world came to a grinding halt.

Beyond the physical pain and illness was the emotional chaos. The fear. The questions. Terror. I tried to keep a brave face most of the time, but internally I was reeling. I spent some time contemplating, why? Not a self-pitying ‘why me?’, but a realistic, trying to understand, why?  What did I do to bring me here, to this place? Was I being punished? Was this diagnosis a message from God? What was He telling me? The Catholic guilt from my childhood had me recounting every misstep I ever took. Every regret. That is a very dark place; not one anyone should be in for very long. I tried to focus on being strong for everyone else. Not letting them know how scared I really was.

Less than a week after my complete hysterectomy, we came here to MSUCC for Emma’s confirmation. I was consumed with guilt because I was in no condition to throw Emma the party I had promised.  I was in a fog from medication, and so incredibly sad. I cried quietly. I was afraid I was dying. Afraid I wouldn’t be able to see my kids grow up. I didn’t know what was coming next. Fear of the unknown is the worst kind of fear.

When it was Emma’s turn, our entire family came forward to lay hands on Emma as Rev. Diane prayed over us all. In that moment, with Rev. Di’s hand on mine praying over Emma, I felt a calming sensation; a breeze from the top of my head down my back… and the tears stopped. I felt reassured, peaceful, comforted. And I knew God was with me- He loved me, regrets and all.

That day I remembered a quote that I had read in church long before: Faith is knowing that “When you come to the edge of all the light you have, and must take a step into the darkness of the unknown, one of two things will happen. Either there will be something solid for you to stand on - or you will be taught how to fly.” Faith. I realized as I dissected that quote, I have faith. I need to lean on my faith. Trust in God, talk to God. I knew I wasn’t going to fall into an abyss, I had faith.

I began praying more regularly. As Rev. Elaine has reminded all of us, prayer is a practice. And I practiced a lot. All my life, my prayers have begun with all of my thanks, and then move to “Could you please…” The more I prayed, the more I realized how much I had to be grateful for. Regardless of treatment, side effects, pain… I knew I was blessed many times over. My prayers of gratitude lifted my spirits no matter how I felt physically. I found myself stopping to offer thanks to God at the strangest times and places. In the middle of Uncle Guiseppe’s, in the car at a traffic light. I realized my prayers of gratitude were so abundant I nearly stopped the “Could you please” prayers. I never once prayed for God to take away my cancer. I prayed for strength, energy and for the people I loved. I prayed for God to stay by my side on this journey, no matter how long the road was. And I prayed that I would be open to the lessons I needed to learn.

If prayer is a practice, I believe faith is your relationship with God. Just like any other relationship, it requires time and attention. The bond I have, the connection I feel to God, is stronger now than ever before. And with that foundation, I found that I was more observant and open to everything around me. My inner strength seemed to double.  My attitude was more positive, and I began to recognize how much negativity I had been a part of for so many years before.

I paid more attention to my thoughts. The pervasive negative tone of my inner voice disturbed me. I realized I was in a terrible relationship… with myself. The voice in my head was so different from the voice I used to pray, or to speak to anyone else. I could hear the dissonance. Never good enough, strong enough, smart enough. If another person in my life that was that consistently critical I would have walked away a long time ago. But that was impossible, so I had to actively work on this relationship, too. Me, myself and I. The gratitude I offered to God shed light on all the good in me as well. When the negative attacks came I intentionally countered them. When I looked around the house and instinctively thought ‘I am a terrible housekeeper’- I would pause and say, ‘But I’m a good Mom’. I started to take credit for good things I had done, and not shy away from compliments as quickly. I began to see what God saw in me: An imperfect human being, doing the best she can.

It would be a lie to say that every moment of time since my diagnosis had been prayerfully blissful. I had weak moments. I endured 10 months of chemotherapy. Every three weeks I would go to the Cancer Center at Stony Brook. For 6 hours or so, I would sit in a chemo chair while medications were sent through an iv to destroy my cancer. As the treatments went on, it became increasingly difficult to get the iv in. My veins would collapse, and roll. I would spend the first 4 or 5 days after chemo treatment exhausted. I would have to sit and rest after getting dressed. I had a pulmonary embolism that could have killed me. I had nausea, strange shooting pains, and I lost all of my hair. I lost my eyebrows and lashes. I had to give myself injections daily. I had 30 rounds of radiation therapy.

There were moments that I did just cry. Usually in the car, or in the bathroom, occasionally in bed. I wouldn’t want anyone else to see. I wanted to shelter my family and friends from my sadness. So I would allow myself time alone to just be.  But the reality is that I was never alone. In those moments of sadness and fear, God was with me. No, I never heard His voice, or felt His physical touch.  But there is an amazing sense of strength and light that I would feel as I allowed myself that time. God’s warm embrace, His loving light. When I was done with that ‘me’ time, I was ready once again to keep moving forward.

I was surrounded by amazing people throughout my ordeal. I will be eternally grateful to God for the gift that is my husband. Mike has seen me at my best and worst… and he’s still here. Our relationship has grown and flourished in these difficult times. His support, and belief in me has given me the strength I needed to fight. My amazing children, teach me more everyday than you can imagine. My parents, brother and extended family exemplify love. Friends, co-workers, fellow UCC members. The selfless Caring Ministry here brought us food and comfort for months. All of these people are gifts from God… brought to me when I needed them the most.

So, my initial journey began with a question: Who am I? Well, I am many things to many people. I have many significant relationships. I stand here today, a cancer survivor… a grateful wife, mother and daughter.  But above all else, I am a faithful child of God. When I reached the end of my light, and could only see darkness, He didn’t just give me wings, He made sure I wasn’t flying alone.

God IS good… ALL the time.

An assorted REM Reunion at Webster Hall

4/27/13 17:12 Home

The last two nights I was in the city.  I bought tickets the moment I heard Peter Buck was opening up for Robyn Hitchcock at Webster Hall.  Ali and were looking forward to the show, but just in case, I gave Eric a head’s up.  I told him, I might ask you to attend a show in the city.  Who?  Robyn Hitchcock.  Cool I like him.  Let me know.  Thursday, I tell him, looks like Ali is going, but thanks.  Friday comes and Ali can’t make it and then Eric tells me he can’t make it and I’m walking around the office looking for someone who could.  I’m out of luck, but I suck it up and drive into the city, park on 15^th just as a car hit their alarm, the car's lights flashed telling me they were arriving and eventually pulling out.  What luck.  It was close to Irving Plaza, but I made my way to 11^th, passed a Greek place which look very appealing. I avoided one of the premier book stores like a good disciplined man: Strand.  I’m selling my books on EBay since I have so many which are either signed or first edition.  I have amassed a library of good books.  This will be another blog entry some other time, you want to read about the show and I’m sorry. I was prepared for the show.  I bought Buck’s LP – which is limited edition – only 2000 copies were released - vinyl - on a small independent label Mississippi Records in Oregon.  I wanted to hear what he would do without the major influence of REM or his other bands like Baseball Project, Tired Pony, Minus 5 and Venus 3.  The album captures the music that Buck gravitates to when he places a needle to thin grooves.  You know he was having a ball recording it.  On the way to Webster Hall I saw Mike Mills walking in front of me, he has a sort of unique strut and his cowboy boots gave him away.  I caught up to him and like a kid, “Mike!” I called out. He turned around, not recognizing the chump who called out his name and said, “Hey...” and moved on up and in the venue.  I caught up to him again and asked if the Baseball Project would come back around, “Eventually,” I could have asked if REM would come back, but I knew the answer.  I assumed Mills was playing bass in Bucks’ band which is called Richard M. Nixon.  They didn’t have a bass player.   Surprisingly Peter was talkative, I dare say - comfortable almost aloof on the stage.  He said he hasn’t played this venue since 85, when it was The Ritz.   I think by ’85 REM were too big to play there since the previous year I saw them at The Beacon.  I know I am a dorky fan.  

Here is the set list: So Long Johnny, It’s Alright, Give me back my wig,  10 Million BC, Planet of The Apes, Monkey Man, Vaso Loco, Outta the House, Near Wild Heaven, Pushing too hard, I’m Alive.

 Buck’s band consisted of Bill Rieflin on drums, REM’s last drummer, Scott McCaughey, REM’s fifth man,  and Kurt Bloch.  Mills eventually joined Peter on stage and they played the REM song Near Wild Heaven.  Was this the first time they played an REM song?  Let the Murmurs.com and REM HQers take note...Lenny Kaye from Patti Smith’s band joined him as well and performed Pushing too Hard…I was debating on calling it a night and head home.   I felt the mission was accomplished I saw the band I wanted to see.  I even sold the extra ticket to some guy who was looking for a freebie…I sold it to him for $10…cheapo…better than nothing.  I really don’t know too many Robyn Hitchcock songs.  I used this same excuse a few years ago when Ali and I went to see Buck and the rest of the Venus 3 support Robyn at the Knitting factory.  As you may know from the blog postings we are REM fans.  I repeat myself.  The rationale then, we had a chance to talk to meet and talk to Peter before the set.  We were honest and told him we didn’t know much of Hitchcock’s songs.  Oh you should stick around, he has great music.  I’m sure you’d like it.  Not taking his suggestion we left.  It was an early night.  So I waited for Robyn to come on and had a beer in the shadows. I was glad I stayed, it was a great show.  I liked how Robyn shared surrealistic stories before each song.  Each time telling us Bill Rieflin was going to keep us in tempo…He wore bright purple pants or some other brightness under the stage lights and a polka dotted shirt.  He will be sixty next week and this is a happy birthday to him.  The set was very diverse, included songs from his repotore, Kingdom of Love; I love you, Madonna of the Wasps, Adventure Rocket ship, as well as a Dylan cover.   Mike Mills joined him as did Lenny.  They closed the night with the Velvet Underground classic: Waiting for my man and finally an excellent version of The Beatles, She says…  She says…and the lights gradually came on as Robyn waved and walked off the stage.   In the night I found myself on the sidewalk, headed back to the car and not waiting as I'd normally do - to meet the band - since I don’t have to always be the obsessive compulsive neurotic fan.  Right? But if Ali was there…well then…neurosis and the chance encounter is rampant.

Thank you for reading this