Sorry I’ve been MIA. Now I have a lot to write about. I’ve back to being a live music junky. Monday? What did I do Monday? that was so long ago. I know I went to see Michaela Anne at Rockwood Music Hall Stage 2. There were train issues, so I got there only shortly before the show was to start. When I walked in, I spotted Kevin and Eliot, two of my best music friends. The regulars become an informal club. This was my first time seeing Michaela in ages. She used to live in New York and was part of my circle but then like so many others abandoned New York for Nashville. I take each one personally. The city is named after me just to rub it in. I would have made such a good paranoid and conspiracy theorist.
When the show started, she said she was going to perform a few songs. As I had a difficult trip from the Bronx, I was not happy to hear that. I didn’t realize that Michaela’s idea of “a few” is an entire album’s worth. This was longer than the typical Rockwood show, and it was all Michaela, no opener, no band. Michaela is someone who knows how to get the most out of a band but with new songs it’s interesting to hear them naked, held up by just the performer, music, and lyrics. These were the songs as she first wrote them, on the album we’ll get to hear them the way she does in her head.
The only disappointing part is that we did not get a chance to talk to Michaela after the show. Kevin was smart and saw that our train was coming in two minutes. That gave us just enough time to catch it. I did have plenty of time to talk to Kevin and Eliot. I think they are geekier than I am if you can believe it. We were discussing file conversions, sound programs, and equipment that nobody even makes any more. Kevin and I continued the conversation on the F and D trains until Columbus Circle where we parted ways.
I made myself one of my favorite dinners, poutine. By law I must mention that every time I eat it. Don’t blame me, I didn’t write the law I just obey it. Something that looks that disgusting should not be able to taste so good. This was very much a Gordon being Gordon day.
The next day started early; I had my infusion at 10 AM. I can no longer get it ten minutes from my house, I now have to take two buses and it takes me an hour to get there. The trip took me longer and I’m not sure if this counts as an idiot story. I checked the MTA and Google apps to see when the bus was arriving after I got to the stop. Two buses stop there, the first one that came wasn’t mine, so I stayed under the construction shed. It was raining so there was no direct access to the stop. You either waited on the curb in the street and got wet or waited under cover then walked around the stanchions to get to the bus. I stayed inside. Then another bus peeked its head around the corning. I figured that was it. Then I saw it said, “Out of Service,” so I once more stayed inside where it was dry. Then my bus didn’t come. I checked the MTA; the next bus was coming in ten minutes. I very much suspect that the driver forgot to switch out the out of service sign for the one that said BX31. Was I an idiot for not going out in the drizzle to flag down the bus just in case it was really my bus? As the timing was just when the bus was supposed to come in retrospect I should have. It’s not idiot worthy but I won’t be as trusting next time.
The upshot was that I was about 10 minutes late. That is really no big deal. Nobody said a word about it. I waited a short time and got called into the infusion room. Most people are there for chemo to treat cancer, I’m there to get Entyvio to hold off Crohn’s Disease. I’m much healthier than most of the other patients. Along with my usual temperament that makes me much more entertaining to the staff than most patients. I forgot my brilliant joke that made the nurse laugh. It was a good one. After she laughed. she told me that she liked me. That kind of validation does a lot for me.
I look forward to my infusions there despite the travel time because it is across the street from a store with good dollar bagels. I always buy half a dozen; I can’t get them anywhere near me. Then I went to Stop & Shop for some things, especially matzoh They have the five pound boxes for $5 or free if you spend $25. I bought some other things I needed but couldn’t find the matzoh. I finally asked where they were and found why I didn’t see them. They were out. I was stupid and didn’t ask for a rain check. That is a legit idiot story.
As I neared home, I texted the super I was on my way. Remember how my shower broke on Thursday and he said every day he would come and fix it then didn’t. On Monday I called the City’s Department of Housing Preservation and Development. They are the people you contact when you have trouble with your landlord. You don’t have to know that, just dial 311, the non-emergency help line and they will direct you. I talked to a lovely sympathetic woman who said they would call the landlord. That worked He texted me on Monday and said he’d be there Tuesday morning. When I told him that I had a doctor appointment, but I’d be back at 2 the latest he told me to text him when I got home. So that’s what I did, and I got home early, 1:30. He didn’t respond. I texted again and he said he was on his way. He didn’t arrive so I texted him again. He said he had to pick something up first. I waited again. Finally, at 4:15 someone came to fix my shower. It took all of five minutes. What drives me nuts is that he kept ghosting me and then he lies to me. He obviously was not on the way when he said he was.
You all know what happened yesterday, there was a shooting incident in Brooklyn. They were rerouting trains including mine, the D. There were huge delays. I knew I had to give myself extra time to get to Rockwood. I guess I should have told you that as it was the second Tuesday of the month I went there to see John Platt’s On Your Radar. There were two performers I was looking forward to, Jan Bell and the Maybelle, Jan’s a friend that I have know better as a festival organizer but whose music I love. She runs the amazing Brooklyn Americana Fest. The other was one of my latest obsessions, Sylvana Joyce + the Moment. Remember when I was one of the juries to select the emerging artists for the Hudson West Folk Festival? By far the best one was Sylvana Joyce + The Moment. If it were up to me, I’d have scrapped the showcase and just added Sylvana to the main lineup, she was that good. I was so enthused about her I sent her video to John Platt. He could see how great she was too. Ironically, there was a conflict so she couldn’t play Hudson West, but she was there last night for On Your Radar.
Oh right, I was talking about trouble getting there. The D train rerouted after I boarded though there was no announcement. The train usually runs on the 6th avenue line but because of the attack it ran on the 8th avenue line until West 4th when it would switch to the F train line. Perfect, that’s the one that takes me to Rockwood. It did go down the 8th avenue line but then it followed the normal D train route. Fortunately, I was able to figure it out and switch to the F train.
I wanted to go early to talk to Sylvana, we had never met, just corresponded. I have played her on Gord’s Gold. I was looking forward to meeting her in person. I was in time for her sound check, so I also got a preview of the live sound. When that was over, I asked her to the most important question, how to say her first name. Is it Sylvana with a long a, almost rhyming with Pennsylvania? or a short a, rhyming with savannah. The answer is neither. The a is pronounced like a short o, so it rhymes with Madonna. I’d much rather see Sylvana.
It was an unusual crowd; the place was packed but the only regulars were the ones that usually sit in the front row and Katherine who ended up on the side ledge next to my table where I sat with Fred as usual. The people that were there got a treat. Jan Bell and the Maybelles are a folk/country harmony trio, though not the country you expect as Jan is English. Remember how the Beatles never sang with an English accent, Jan does, and it’s utterly charming to hear her sing pure Americana. This is music that fits right in to Folk Music Notebook’s format but as I discovered this week, I don’t have any of her albums. I’ve just heard them live. I will correct that. My Gentle Listeners will get to hear their music soon. They are a three piece band, Jan on guitar, plus a stand up base and a fiddle. They all fit together like clockwork. Sadly, I don’t know the names of the other band members. Remember I’m an idiot so you have to excuse these things. I was inordinately proud that I remembered the name of the waitress, Gabby, from Sunday. I knew there was a good chance I’d see her again, so I made the effort.
Sylvana did not disappoint. This is not folk music; this is theatrical rock. The music is better than you hear in most rock musicals on Broadway. She is working on a show, and I can’t wait to see it. Fred and I heard elements in her music that reminded us of Renaissance, Harpeth Rising, and Jerry Lee Lewis. Yes, I know that’s hard to imagine. There was one song where the climax was so high energy it reminded me of Jerry Lee on stage before Chuck Berry. At least according to Great Balls of Fire he was so upset that he didn’t close the show that he put everything into his performance. He went so far as to set the piano on fire. When Chuck came out, he said, “Follow that killer.” Sylvana can pull that off. More surprisingly she can pull it off in a way I loved. This was not rote stage histrionics. Sylvana is an actress, and she becomes the part and believes it in her soul. She transforms herself into a rock star. Does that just make her a rock star? No, she’s not someone who feels the world revolves around her. Like Jerry Lee she just lets her inner fire shine when she’s performing.
After the show I talked to Fred and Sylvana then Katherine and I walked around for three hours as we had a lot of catching up to do. We did stop for fries. I didn’t need a full meal, I had peanut butter on one of those bagels before I left. As much as I love music, I love the post-concert hang just as much. Every venue should have a diner next door where you can sit with your friends for hours after the show. It was a beautiful night so walking around might have been even better.
I’ve already written over 2000 words I’m not going to tell you the tale of the trip home or what I ate today, (challah French toast), and bid you adieu and make dinner. Bratwurst and plantain are on the menu.
Wise Madness 