For the first time in quite awhile I managed to see two different shows in one night. On Friday, Matt and I went up to San Francisco to catch an early Kristin Hersh show at the Makeout Room (Greg met us there and managed to get us on the quest list, which in times of low funds is much appreciated). She rasped out a bunch of old favorites, including a couple of traditional songs, in the form of "The Cuckoo" and "Wayfaring Stranger," as well. Only one new song was performed. As she always does, she told funny little stories in between songs. Of special interest was the fact that she has just returned from Iceland, because after we left this show we walked around the corner to 12 Galaxies to see Faun Fables, who are leaving for Iceland on Monday.
At 12 Galaxies, Loop!station opened the show with Cello and voice, both looped and layered so that it sounded like several cellists and several vocalists were performing at once. Very nice. If I'd had the money, I would have bought their three cds like Matt did.
After Loopstation, we were treated to a recital of a T.S. Eliot poem, which was accompanied by a performance by a trapeze artist. The whole show, MCed by the versatile Chicken John (once a member of G.G. Allen's band) was billed as a memorial for someone named Margaret Rucker. She turned out to be present in the form of a tattered scrapbook that Chicken John had pulled from a dumpster fifteen years ago. It seems that the scrapbook, along with Margaret Rucker's other possessions, had been unceremoniously disposed of, and would have disappeared forever into a landfill if not for the fact that Chicken John, for reasons unrevealed to us, roots through dumpsters. He even went so far as to prepare a short powerpoint presentation covering the highlights of the scrapbook clippings. Mrs. Rucker was revealed to be a poet, survivor of a nasty accident, and later on the widow of a suicide. At the end of the presentation, the scrapbook was passed around and audience members were encouraged to take pieces of it home. Margaret Rucker has literally been rescued from the dustbin of history.
After this, Baby Dee appeared dressed as a bee and riding an old iron tricycle. She ascended the candlelit stairs to the stage and started out with a couple of Tiger Lillies-esque songs on the accordian before settling down behind her harp. She included her version of Idemaea, as heard on the latest Current 93 cd.
Faun Fables this time around featured, in addition to Dawn and Nils, Ari Fellows-Mannion (Loretta Lynch), Camilla Lincoln (Whoreshoes) on backing vocals, and upright bassists Jason Walker (Mandrake). The sang beautiful new songs, including a Scottish folk song about fishermen, and a few old songs, which were bolstered by the upright bass and backing vocals. In the picture, you can see the clueless guy who insisted on standing at the front even though the five or six rows behind him were all seated, ignoring the shouted chorus of "down in front!" from behind him. He finally sat down when the guy sitting directly behind him bought him a beer. He got rewarded for being a jerk, but at least he sat down.
I ended up driving back by myself because Matt was going home with Dawn and Nils. I was a bit stressed out due to the fact that, before the shows, while we were looking for parking, my battery light blinked on a few times. I contemplated asking Matt if I could borrow his cellphone, but elected not to. I got on the freeway and made it about fifteen or twenty miles before my lights dimmed and the car threatened to stall. Taking the nearest exit, I managed to find a 24 hour gas station before the car died. Then it was a comedy of getting piles of quarters from the attendant and calling from a payphone. AAA proved useless since I only get five miles of free towing and I was thirty miles from home (after the five free miles, the price jumps up to ten dollars a mile - you do the math). Jen's insurance wouldn't help because it doesn't cover my car. Finally, I called Jen and she had to drive up and rescue me, leaving my car behind. As of now, after being ripped of eight ways to Sunday by the service crew at the gas station, we've elected to not have them put in an alternator (the diagnostic fee, new battery, and radiator hose cost more than double what they should have) and waiting until we have the funds to purchase one and install it ourselves. In the meantime, we're going to try and get by with one vehicle. Wish us luck.
Funny sidenote: They mechanic called while I was out doing parties yesterday and got Jen on the phone. As mechanics often do, he assumed that since she's a woman she would know next to nothing about cars, only becoming nice once she proved him wrong. Why is it that auto service places only treat you fairly if they think there's a possibility of you being a repeat customer and/or if you exhibit some knowledge of car repair? Because they're assholes, that's why. Anyway, we're gritting our teeth, forking over too much money, picking up the car tomorrow, and driving it home with a good battery and bad alternator. It will sit in the driveway for awhile.
To top it all off, I lost half the tip money from the parties I did yesterday. It probably fell out of my overstuffed poickets when I went to retrieve something. Shit.
We ended the day on a good note though, going up to a friend's birthday party in Redwood city. Despite being tired, Willow, Jen, and I had a great time socializing, listening to the live music (a latin jazz band), eating the middle eastern food and wonderful exotic cheeses, and basically just unwinding.
Oh, and summer camp is over too. We watched the last bus go down the hill on Friday. I'm off work most of next week, so it's time to do some Autumn cleaning around here. That's the plan anyway.
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