03.15.2004
Saturday night I went to see the lovable, sunnysweet Leo Blais at the Paradise. His shows are like a bellyfull of something warm and good for you. All breathy vocals and comfort-food melodies. Love me some Leo. Also playing was Will Dailey. It was a listening party for Will's newly-released CD, Goodbye Red Bullet.
Will was slick with the fingers like some classically trained Berklee mo-fo, and I totally dug his sound. His whole aura was slippery with ease. Sittin comfy, playin loose-limbed, smiling and singing with this thick, full voice. I was gnawing on my straw and frowning in attempt to pinpoint who he reminded me of, and then it dawned: John Mayer.
Which brings us to today's topic of discussion.
I've come to terms with several things about myself recently. Some of them were simply minor confessions. Others required a publicly announced, though flinching, coming-out-of-the-closet. They were tough to own up to. But I'm okay with it now.
See, the thing is... I really like bad pop music.
1. I really like John Mayer. Room for Squares was the featured selection in my car's tape deck until I dumped a Dunkin Donuts iced hazelnut onto the dashboard and it dripped down into the stereo, thereby coating the frail TDK with a thick syrup and adhering it to the inside of the tape deck. This was the first of many times I had to pull out the screwdriver to remove a tape from Verna's deck; now I need to implement one during insertion as well.
I went to see John Mayer twice with my dear Nathan Bright-Autumn Sky, who originally made me listen to Room for Squares (and also sent me to my first of four-dozen Howie Day shows -- see #2).
For my first show, John Mayer was playing at a bar in Worcester -- 100 seats max. I was sick and Robitussin-drunk and zoned on our departure time; we left an hour later than planned.
Nate was driving my car because I'd just had eye surgery and was legally blind. Courtesy of MapQuest, we ended up on the wrong side of the tracks, stuck in a perpetual traffic circle that spiraled into hell among salt marshes and abandoned cars until we came upon a gas station and was pointed in the right direction by a toothless dyke with plumber butt. It took us an hour to find parking.
When we finally got to the bar, not only was it full to capacity, but John Mayer had already been playing for an hour. Nate did some sweet-talking, and I'm not sure what was said but money was exchanged and we gained admission. I was thoroughly tripping on cold medicine at this point, and we saw John Mayer perform his a two-song encore from across the room. I was sitting at the bar next to David Mead, who I met at a Jump show at the Middle East when he was opening for them. At the Jump show I had tried to buy him a beer and he told me that the musicians drank free -- I said that wasn't the point� But here he was at the John Mayer show, markedly drunk of his own accord, and for some freakish reason remembered me.
So we got two songs of John Mayer -- enough for me to fall in love in that tiny bar before he started selling out stadium shows and I had to be content with seeing him play at Avalon during a giant ponytail-yanking session a year later. Whether you like him or not, he puts on a great live show.
Nathan Bright-Autumn Sky is an amazing boy who did not get mad at me for screwing up twice in one night and ruining a rare opportunity to see our poprock gem. Instead, on the way home, he pulled my car over on I95 and we layed on the side of the highway in the frozen grass staring up at the orange and purple shooting stars during the century's biggest meteor shower.
2. I really like Howie Day.
3. I really like Semisonic. I recently made a killer mix for Mon Frere, and as a hidden track I put "Singing in My Sleep", which is a Semisonic song off of Feeling Strangely Fine. The song came out in the fall of 1998 and was seriously my favorite song. I used to put it on my walkman and drive my scooter really fast down Winter Hill. I requested it on WFNX and Nic Carter, the DJ who I was obsessed with at the time, said I had to fax my panties to him and he'd play it. I was working at Fleet Bank and somehow managed to do so without getting caught.
So I put the song on the mix, because Mon Frere and I both loved it, and it's bouncy and fun and it's about making good mix tapes: "In the city the lion sleeps / pray to Sony my soul to keep / now I'm falling in love too fast / with you or the songs you chose..."
I asserted, "They're a good band," in an overly defensive tone, because they're really not, and Mon Frere says,
"And they're hot, too."
"I wouldn't know -- I've never seen them," I said.
"Yeah you have. We went to their show at the Paradise," he says. "You, me and Shannon."
"We did? I don't remember that. Did I have fun?"
"Yeah. It was a good show. You liked it."
"Great. I'm glad."
4. I really like Dave Matthews. I was sitting at Daniel's kitchen table and he was playing the new Dave Matthews CD. I said I didn't know he liked Dave Matthews. He said he didn't know I liked Dave Matthews. So we shared a mutually hushed confessional, and he said, "You probably keep the CD hidden in your Modest Mouse case."
Not anymore. It's out of the closet. I feel better already.
~ joy
- 03.16.2004
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