Event Review (Greg Brown at the Nighlight): There's always that one really drunk guy

In case you were curious, the Greg Brown show last night = awesome. I have to admit that I was a bit nervous to see the man with the sexiest voice I've ever heard live, because it was quite possible that he'd turn out to be old and goofy-looking and thus my image of him would suffer, even if just a little--but as luck would have it, my fear proved to be unfounded. The guy was great-looking, alright, and he was wonderful live. We were lucky enough to get scooted toward the front in a sold-out Nightlight show, so I was actually able to watch him play that guitar and sing those dirty blues, and I have to say it: though I don't swoon easily, when he started rolling up those shirt-sleeves, I did swoon a bit, nevermind that he's older than my dad, and married.

And as for the really drunk guy, well, he was there in the front corner, whistling and shouting nonsense through the whole set, passing Greg Brown (and Bo Ramsey, who accompanied Brown on the electric guitar) half-empty drinks and wobbling his way through the packed crowd to stand dead center in front of the stage. It seems to be a trend at most of the shows I've seen--the one really drunk guy who gets good and obnoxious and irritates everyone else who isn't too drunk to care. Oh well. Greg Brown more than made up for it.

Greg Brown is coming to town

I can't believe my good luck. First, while thumbing through the Chuckanut Reader, I happened upon a notice declaring that Jonathan Safran Foer was coming to Bellingham.

Wait. That Jonathan Safran Foer? The author of two of my very favorite books, Everything is Illuminated and Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close (the latter is reviewed on my book site, here)?

Yes, a second look confirmed, it was in fact that Jonathan Safran Foer, coming to Bellingham in November to give a reading at Village Books.

[stunned silence]

I know.

And then, my stepdad announces over breakfast this morning that Greg Brown (Greg Brown, the amazing songwriter whose voice was as familiar to me throughout my childhood as that of Garrison Keillor, but whose music I never quite appreciated until a few years ago when I had my iPod on shuffle and "Sadness" popped up, seemingly out of the blue) was coming to town this month to play at the Nightlight.

[stunned silence]

I know. I'm not even joking either when I add that I had a dream last night that I was watching Greg Brown in concert, and he played "Ballingall Hotel," and I was happy way down to my toes.

I've never dreamt of Greg Brown before in my life. Go figure.

Event Review: Jolie Holland at the Nightlight Lounge

Yes, it's true: the marvellous Jolie Holland actually made her way to Bellingham while touring to promote her new album, Springtime Can Kill You.

And yes, I was there.

For those of you not familiar with Miss Holland's music, I'm afraid I'm not a whole lot of help--you see, she's difficult to describe. The closest I've come is a weak comparison to Billie Holiday, with an old timey acoustic finger-pickin' guitar for accompaniment; her melodies are eerie, unpredictable and gorgeous, and while the songs and the guitar are one thing, her voice is something completely other. Over the course of the last two months, with the purchase of both her debut, Catalpa, and her sophomore album, Escondida, I've fallen completely in love with Holland's complicated, bewitching sound.

Imagine my joy when I found out she'd be playing in Bellingham.

Sean Hayes, a fellow I'd never heard of (but had somehow become convinced was from England--he was not from England. I didn't catch where he was from, but it was not England), opened, and he was intriguing enough that Mitch and I bought a copy of Big Black Hole & The Little Star--we have not been disappointed so far. On his last few songs, Jolie Holland came on stage and harmonized with him, which made for an enchanting duet or two, and a sufficient lead-in for Holland's set.

And her set was good, definately. Her voice was every bit as chilling as it ought to be live, but truly she wasn't the most gracious of performers: she sound-checked her way right through the first song, and talked down to the audience, and denied us a much-requested encore. I was not impressed, really, and that made me sad.

However, the music was amazing, and not to be sniffed at: Jolie Holland has the best whistle I've ever heard, and her versatility as she switched from piano to guitar to tambourine to box fiddle (often in the same song) was awesome to watch. When she played "Mad Tom of Bedlam", I got the shivers, and the shivers didn't stop til after she finished "Old Fashioned Morphine." All in all, it was an excellent show, but it missed one key ingredient: Holland didn't seem to be enjoying herself much. That also made me sad.

Happy unBirthday (to me)

We have a houseguest. I think this is awesome, even though I'm not a very good hostess.

I mentioned Lyle in my entry about Myspace, and here he is, showing up again, but this time he's shown up in my house, with a toothbrush and shampoo. Through an odd twist in events, he's landed on the couch in my living room for a few days, and I love it, having him here, especially since I actually have a living room for the first time in 1 year+ of studio-apartment-dwelling.

Of course he's been a terrible influence--without company, Mitch and I are usually in bed by eleven, after a happy evening of homework, blogging, reading and Warcraft, but with Lyle, well. Bedtime has been extended.

Monday night found Lyle, Sarah, Galen and me (all friends from high school, recently reunited), playing pool at the Nightlight well after midnight, despite the fact that I had to work in the morning. Lyle and I, whose birthdays are April 25 and 26 respectively, bickered over scores--I told him that I let him win, as a special unBirthday present; he claimed he'd let me keep on thinking so, as an unBirthday gift to me.

Tuesday morning found me groggy, moving slowly, but not sorry for a second. Every time I rubbed my eyes I thought of lining up shots on the green felt table, of sinking into vinyl couches and listening to my friends tell stories and laugh, and I grinned. I'd yawn, and find myself smiling.

Here, let's have a moment. I want to say: what is it about my high school friends, that they've all become such wonderful people? And then I will move on.

Tonight, we're playing at domestic, the three of us. Veggies are roasting in the oven, Lyle's out getting beer and a movie, Mitch is studying in the still, spare moment while I write and try not to think about the awful lot of writing I'll be doing over the next month.

It's fun coming home to another person, fun finding somebody else's gadgets plugging into various outlets, fun getting to know somebody I've known so well, and discovering what a splendid person he's become. Say what you want about houseguests, I'll be sad when he goes back to Tokyo and takes all his clutter with him.