I woke up out of breath this morning muttering “faster Meg, FASTER!” after apparently laughing unnervingly in my sleep for quite some time. Explanations may be in order.
But first – let’s talk about how wonderful yesterday was.
This past week Songwriters’ Association of Washington pulled together about 50 or so local (and some not-so-local) singer/songwriters for a 5 day event they’d dubbed their Summer Songwriter Sessions at a placeholder venue called Earp’s Ordinary Pop Up in Fairfax, VA. Over the course of the showcases (still going on as I type) were a LOT of artists we’ve shared the stage with including Gabrielle Zwi, Jillian Matundan, Janine Wilson, Susan Rowe, Jeff Smith, Sol Roots, Emily Mitchell, Munit Mesfin, Know1Else, Mike Ryan, Domenic Cicala, Chris Titchner, Miles Gannett, Andrew McKnight, Lynn Hollyfield, Conor Brendan, Juels Bland, Michael Potts, Quiet the Mountain, Veronneau, Cletus Kennelly (oh, wait – he canceled cause he caught COVID), Annette Wasilik (oh, wait – she canceled cause she caught COVID), David Kitchen (oh, wait – he canceled cause he caught COVID)…
Oh right. COVID. Also this weekend a number of friends canceled all SORTS of shows because they caught COVID… bar gigs, coffeehouse shows… appearances at the Philadelphia Folk Festival… definitely still a thing my friends…
Our night was definitely packed with good friends, both on stage and in the audience, and ilyAIMY was triply-flattered because we were given the longest slot of the entire five days specifically to showcase our three different writers! The stage was absurdly tight, the sound atrocious, the heat oppressive, but we were surrounded by friends and peers and Love and we played a set quite unlike our usual playlist because we did a solid set of Heather songs, then a set of Rowan songs, then a set of rob songs, rather than all mixed together. It’s interesting how very different that is… like it was much more about the convenience of which instrument needed to be in whose hand rather than the mood of the set or anything like that. It probably didn’t make it as perfect a musical journey, but it was physically necessary to minimize switching!
We got a good response, the card of the owner, etc. Highs, lows, great drinks, a suspicious absence of tacos. We were successful at navigating the Murder Hallway (seriously, when was the last time you had to walk down long, industrial corridors with the word “SAW” hand-scrawled on little notes… if the lights had gone out I’d have been ready to do battle!) but the high points of the evening didn’t come from within the band.
(note to self as I write this – it’s actually breakfast time and I must admit I grabbed the first glass that came to hand, rinsed it out, threw iced coffee into it… and this glass DEFINITELY used to contain pineapple jalapeno tequila and this glass DEFINITELY didn’t get rinsed thoroughly enough… tis a taste sensation)
Rolling in, watching other performers take the stage, watching us all in the audience, watching the swirl of people overjoyed at seeing one another, many who hadn’t seen one another since pre-COVID (let’s try to normalize NOT saying “first time post-COVID”), shooting the shit and swatting the wasps with Jay Keating… we arrived just in time for Munit Mesfin, a fabulous singer/songwriter originally from Ethiopia, joined on stage by her kids and a flute player… and though there was no space to sit and hang out and listen inside, we frequently poked our heads back inside. Unfortunately, since things were running slightly early and we were a little later than we’d meant to be, I think we spent most of the next artist’s set wolfing down some food before spending most of Know1Else’s set grabbing our gear from the car and visualizing how we were going to fit on the stage!
Again – our hour and a half on the stage was all fine and good – but once we were over, for better or for worse, about half the venue emptied out and we settled pretty comfortably into catching the next several acts.
Mike Ryan and Domenic Cicala occupied our next hour, and they are deservedly well-known local singer/songwriters … long and lanky with good smiles and great songs … but I was pushing for us to hang around for the lesser-known, not-so-local, not long nor lankly and more awkwardly-smiling Chris Titchner.
Chris is an artist from Raleigh, NC who made a habit out of hitting up my open mics every time he wandered through Maryland. COVID kept him off the road for years, but I was grateful that his first stop ANYWHERE (crazily, even counting gigs at home) once he was comfortable with performing again, was my Sandy Spring open mic. And here he is again, up in the DC metro area, having not performed since that featured slot.
And Chris is great. He’s got a pop aesthetic with an edgier style that means he slips through a lot of cracks and you’re nodding along before you realize you’re listening to a song about deep, deep personal loss couched in a story about a super villain.
Rowan and I sat at a table just listening to him weave and twist and occasionally buzz saw through tunes that simply never QUITE go where you expect them.
We spend a LOT of time in a world where singer/songwriters sling very clever, elegant chords that fit quite elegantly into accepted structures and the rhyme structure means that you can see the options coming up in the chorus and you know you should pick the SECOND most-obvious rhyme and sing along because no-one would pick the MOST obvious rhyme… but you never even guess quite where Chris is going to land. Whether it’s an unexpected half-step that still works or a metaphor that shouldn’t … but of course does… Chris also performs with an earnest fervor that makes you BELIEVE in what he’s singing in a way that most artists simply don’t.
And man, I believe in poetry and I believe in proficiency but it’s so RARE that I believe in honesty. And I believe in it coming from Chris. And that’s worth sticking around even when you can see traffic setting up on your traffic app, making home look further and further away…
But we had company on the ride home…
Thursday night I’d gotten to talking to Andrew McKnight. You know Andrew. A wordsmith of great renown, an elegant poet and historic writer who wins awards with his beautiful songs.
It came out that he’d just released recordings of the metal band he’d been in in the 80s so we HAD to have THAT. I ordered the CD during the conversation, and rather than pop it in the mail, he brought it with him to the SAW event (he played Friday night) and left it with Jay.
And so it was with GREAT satisfaction I got to say “hey, Jay… you got that thing from Andrew?” And Jay said “yeah, what is it anyway?” And I got to say
“A CD of Andrew McKnight’s metal band from the 80s.”
“His what?!”
This conversation played out a number of times since I didn’t have any good place to go put the CD away till the end of the night.
“What’cha got there?”
“Andrew McKnight’s metal band from the 80s.”
“…”
“HIS WHAT?!?!?”
It was kind of awesome.
Oh, and so’s the album.
We drove home rocking out to “Cosmic Metalhead” and “Rock Time In Your Town” while chatting with Andrew and keeping him up to the second on her impressions… and though I teased him mercilessly, it is also absolutely an AWESOME display of technical prowess and truly 80s metal GODHOOD – made all the better cause… it’s freakin’ Andrew McKnight.
I highly recommend : https://noreasterrocks.bandcamp.com/releases
Heh. And I give you the LINK because googling the band name “Nor’easter” just gets you nowhere… or at least only gets you to about a dozen other bands with the same name scattered all over the east coast, most of which probably suck.
Well. Andrew got us home. Where I then showed Kristen the CD and she said “what’s that?”
And I said “Andrew McKnight’s metal band from the 80s”.
And she went on petting the cat for a sec and then stopped and said “HIs what?”
And that’s enough out of me. I guess I’ll tell you about the dream later.