Yesterday was the second Tuesday of the month and that means I went to John Platt’s On Your Radar. This month’s guests were Damn Tall Buildings, South for Winter, and Jared Feinman.
In the morning I had an appointment with my gastroenterologist who is my de facto primary care physician. I last saw her in October, I thought it was longer ago than that. I have Crohn’s disease, so I see her regularly. I’m very lucky with my doctors, Dr. Kwah is great. Not only is she very knowledgeable and cites studies when recommending treatment, she expresses real concern for my well-being. I missed some of my infusions and that worried her. I explained that it was my anxiety issues with making appointments, not with the actual treatments. I know that’s difficult for people to get their head around, but she did. We also discussed COVID-19. Thanks to my infusions I am more susceptible. I have trouble internalizing that as I’ve taken meds that compromise my immune most of my life and I never get infectious diseases. Intellectually I know that’s not the way to look at things. I might just have been lucky. My personal experience is weak evidence.
I need blood tests that have to be done on an empty stomach. My appointment was for 11, earlier than I normally eat, but for whatever reason I ate early yesterday, before I left home at 10. I’ll walk over to Montefiore to get the tests today before I eat. It’s only 9:17 and I’m starving. It’s just like not touching your face, as soon as you think about it all you want to do is touch your face. I’m getting better at that. I was able to write that without touching my face. I know it seems impossible but a doctor/musician friend of mine has assured me that she was able to change her own behavior.
I was supposed to meet Dan and Phyllis for pizza before On Your Radar. That idea went up in smoke when my train was delayed. I was listening to a podcast and I’m afraid I missed an announcement. The D went very slowly through the Bronx. Then it went local from 125th Street to 59th street. That’s a lot of extra stops. To make it worse the train stopped dead between station. An express passed us by. Perhaps if I had been paying attention I would have known this was happening and changed to an express at 125th. I’ll never know. I arrived at Rockwood Music Hall the same time as Dan and Phyllis who had finished their dinner. I had texted them to not wait for me.
I was worried that COVID-19 fears might suppress the crowd, but John told me it was a sell-out. When the show started the room wasn’t close to full and I feared there might be no-shows. There weren’t. It was a late arriving crowd. Many people came just for the last act. I don’t get that mindset at all. They have no desire to discover new music. It’s also disrespectful to the other acts. They missed some great music.
Jared Feinman is a piano man with sensibilities that sometimes reminded me of the Levins. I’m guessing that’s what sold John on him. He plays murder ballads where nobody gets killed but a heart is broken.
I saw South for Winter at the Falcon Ridge Emerging artist showcase. They sold me doing a two-song set. As soon as they finished I ran backstage to tell them how amazing they were and invite them to the Budgiedome. That’s a very rare occurrence. Even though it was very late they won over the audience that saw them. Only Nick and Dani played the Budgiedome, Alex, the cellist was smart enough to go to sleep at a reasonable hour. Nick was the Budgiedome’s first Kiwi, he’s from New Zealand.
As much as I loved them at Falcon Ridge it didn’t prepare me for how great they were last night. Fred and I both thought their songwriting reminded us of Barnaby Bright, high praise indeed. They are light-hearted fun people that sing very dark songs. As they said, “We play murder ballads where people get killed.” I let out a whoop. The band does it all. Dani is a great singer; her singing their songs would be enough to make them a favorite band. But then she sits down and Nick on guitar and Alex on cello blow you away with an instrumental. Nick’s playing is reminiscent of Tommy Emmanuel. You can tell by my gushing; South for Winter is something special.
Damn Tall Buildings, not to be confused with Moxy Fruvous precursor, Tall New Buildings, play Hipstergrass. I just coined the term. It’s bluegrass with a hipster attitude. They are high energy, a lot of fun, and with a solid following.
Last night I experimented with not hugging people or even shaking hands. I am physically affectionate and that takes an effort, especially when I said hi to Mark and Beth. I am not an elbow toucher or fist bumper; I’m going with the namaste bow. Namaste literally means bow but I’m going with the redundancy anyway. I put my hands together, give a small bow, and say, “Namaste.” It literally means bow but symbolizes, “the light within me acknowledges the light within you.” The only way I can keep this up is to remind myself that it’s to keep others safe and it would be selfish to do otherwise. I still hate it.
I was lucky and got a ride home from Peter, he lives in Hastings and I’m on the way. That made things much easier. Not that I got home that early as we stayed and talked to people after the show. I just had peanut butter for dinner. Maybe that’s why I’m so hungry now. I’m going to post this then go to Montefiore and have my blood tested.
Wise Madness 