Vyktoria Pratt Keating - Sun Dried Opossum - Bella Morte - Anson Funderburgh and the Rockets - Club 216
As Vyktoria Pratt Keating played the Prism Coffeehouse Friday night it quckly became evident that the move from Central Va. to Sedona, Az. has done her some good. For one thing, she finally got up the courage to send a copy of her second record, This Guardian at Noon, to flautist Ian Anderson (of Jethro Tull - her sworn favorite band), and guess what? He liked it. So much so that he asked her to open a few dates on their U.S. tour. When that was over, they invited her to stay on for the rest of their U.S. dates. Mr. Anderson himself started jamming with her on a couple of tunes. And now, after a brief stint here on the East Coast, she's headed off for Jethro Tull's European tour. Good for her. She'd been floating around C-Ville for well over a decade and needed to get out where the people are a little more actively interested in stuff like astrology and original acoustic music. Her tunes are ethereal solo power-pop straight from dream land and she delivers them in a reverbed-out, waif-like voice to great effect, a bit like the Cocteau Twins on acoustic guitar. She puts on a cool and very non-traditional show, and it's great to hear that big boys like the legendary Jethro Tull appreciate it.
After a number of "Area 51" stories and tales of the Tull, I bolted to the Outback Lodge where the Snake Oil Medicine Show was supposedly having a grope. This, however, was not to be case. They had to cancel and the newspapers never found out, so the people who showed up had to suffice with Sun Dried Opossum, a tye-died rock entourage from Waynesboro.
If I had to characterize Sun Dried Opossum in a phrase, I might say "the little hippy band that could." They play all sorts of classic rock in the "big jam" style, whipping up killer guitar solos and thumping grooves. But it was their originals that impressed me, full of intense passages and heavy changes spinning around on themselves with plenty of opportunity to display their formidable guitar and vocal talents. They turn out quite a mix: from R&B to reggae to rock. If you dig the "Grateful/Allmans" ethic, then you will definitely enjoy some Opossum.
I wanted to roll to the Tokyo Rose to see the punk Halloween show, but had to wait around for Daysi, that silly duck. Nothing can hold up a good crawl like a slow friend. I was ready to witness a mohawk spectacle, but Sun Dried Opossum provided a satisfying alternative and I ended up going home pleased.
I got another shot at the Tokyo Rose on Saturday when Bella Morte stopped in from their fall tour for a Halloween show. You kind of have to go see what a gothic Halloween looks like, don't you? I was wondering if they would all show up dressed like golf pros or something. No dice. But there were some good costumes and a hilarious contest to judge whose was best. It amounted to a cool goth show, complete with Bella Morte pumping out their dark gollem rock. Rumor has it they are being wooed by an American goth label, but we'll have to wait and see if they submit to the workings of a corporate machine.
It was 2:00 A.M., and we weren't done boogieing, so we headed downtown to Club 216 to catch some late-night shenanigans. For those of you who've never been there, 216 is an alternative private club for members and guests only that stays open until around 5 in the morning. Saturday night was daylight savings, so they turned back the clock and stayed open an hour later than usual. That's cool. Not that I was gonna make it until 6 in the morning, but there were definitely people in attendance who would. 216 has the only real "big city disco" environment around here that I'm aware of, and it's hard to leave when you're ready to party all night. There's a large bar with a stage and mellow music on one side and on the other there's a huge sound system and light show complete with a mirrored ball, strobe lights and a fog machine. If you like to dance to the electronic beat, then you'll want to aquaint yourself with 216, but you'll have to make friends with a regular -- that's the only way to get a membership.
I crawled home (literally) and slept a beautiful Halloween sleep.
-Cripsy Duck
E-mail is cheap. Send me your schedule. cripsyduck@mindspring.com
After that Daysi and I rolled over to the Outback where the mighty Anson Funderburgh and the Rockets had brought their Texas blues on a big blue bus, hauling a very distinguished harmonica player and vocalist, Sam Myers, with them. They were cranking out classic swinging blues for a crowd of rapt dancers. Sam Myers could be about 150 years old -- coke-bottle glasses, quivering lips, barely able to get up and down from the stage unassisted -- but he sings and blows with a smooth and beautiful raw power that makes him timeless. Standing there in a grey double-breasted suit, it was like the great-godfather of the blues was holding court over the band that invented classic bar-room tone.