Quiet music should be played loud

I can't believe it's been a week already . . . it doesn't feel like that long. But, for those of you who are interested (you know who you are), here's what they sang:

I Don't Wanna Waste Your Time--There's a warmth and spontaneity in this music that welcomes you and draws you in. Karin sways to the music, relaxed, unselfconscious. "I've got a different scar for every song," she sings," And blood still left to bleed/But I don't wanna waste your time/Wiht music you don't need." She's gorgeous, by the way; in a black v-neck top with a light patterned skirt, she could be a model for an artsy boutique. But it's her voice--with its passion and urgency, its aching longing and unfettered joy--that makes you sit still and breathless, that brings tears to your eyes. "When it comes to wanting what's real/There's no such thing as greed." The tears are escaping my eyes now--partly because the music is real, partly because they've given me preciesly the songs I've need, so many times. Partly, too, because these words serve as an affirmation of desire--an admontion not to give on on the things I most long for, the things it sometimes seems foolish to desire.

I Radio Heaven--Not my favorite, but hearing it live gives me a new appreciation for it. At the keyboard, Linford looks happy and completely at home. It takes me back to teh first time I heard them play: he had a grand piano then, and I loved his playing before I was sure I liked Karin's singing. (But Jeffrey Overstreet kept raving about Good Dog, Bad Dog, so I bought it--which makes this whole crazy pilgrimage his fault. :-) But keyboard or grand, Linford's playing is equally expressive and beautiful.

Long Lost Brother--Makes me cry again. This has been my song the past several weeks, but it's from an older album, so I didn't expect to hear it. It feels like they're singing it just for me . . . A gift unexpected and un"The trouble is, I'm so exhausted/The plot, you see, I think I've lost it/I need the grace to find what can't be found . . ." By this point, I'm realizing that however good their albums are--and don't get me wrong, they're fantastic--Over the Rhine is even better live.

I'm On a Roll--Karin introduced this one: "We did melancholy on Drunkard's Prayer, and felt like we really got that down. So it was time for something more perky." Not my favorite of theirs (you know me, I'm all about the melancholy), but it's great fun. And have I mentioned that her voice is amazing?

Entertaining Thoughts--Another song from the new CD. Lighthearted, yes; but if you've followed their music at all, if you their story, you know this joy didn't come easily. And happy songs are (almost) as needful as melancholy ones. :-)

Let's Spend the Day in Bed--Linford did the introduction, talking about how they'd been touring since June and he felt like he could spent four days in bed. ("We think that's really funny," Karin said with him.) Then he started talking about how they loved touring, because music was one of the few communal things left in our country, one of the few things that brought people together. Then he paused for a second, and said, "But that has nothing to do with the song. That was a tangent."

What I'll Remember Most--Again, one that I absolutely love, but didn't expect to hear. (The saddest songs are the happiest, the hardest truths are the easiest . . .)

The Trumpet Child--Beautiful. Linford said it's been described as a "jazz hymn," and they think that fits pretty well. He also explained how the song was inspired in part by his earliest memory: he was sitting on his mother's lap at an tent revival, and there was someone on stage playing a trumpet. "The music was coming from up on the stage, and I was in the audience. And I was not okay with that."

Who'm I Kiddn' but Me--probably my least favorite of the songs they sang, at least in the recorded version. But at the end they went off on a long instrumental improv, which was fabulous. Linford went crazy on the piano, then dropped out, and the drummer went crazier on the drums, all by himself, for several minutes. Brilliant stuff.

Trouble

Latter Days--Another of my favorites: the song that made me fall in love with them to begin with, and that helped me through my worst semester at TFC. This one just piano and voice, the drummer and bass/guitar guy getting a break.

North Pole Man--One of two I hadn't heard before, from their Christmas album.

Goodbye Charles--Another from the Christmas album--just instrumental this time.

Ohio

Orphan Girl (Gillian Welch)

I clapped madly, along with everyone else; but I wasn't sure if they'd come back for an encore. After all, the other rules of classical music didn't apply here . . .

. . . but that one, happily, did. They came back out and sang "Hush Now," followed by "If a Song Could Be President"--which got a huge audience reaction--and went straight into "Don't Wait for Tom." Again, not one of my favorites--but lots of fun live, and a great way to end the evening.

The list of things I've never done . . . .

. . . . is pretty long. But I've just struck something off it.

I have now driven 100 miles (one way, in the rain) to hear my favorite band play in a tavern.

And, given the chance, I'd do it again. (Though next time I will coerce someone* into going with me. But don't worry, it will be good coercion--forcing her to be free, and all that.)

I left Rivertown early, hoping to beat rush hour traffic. It worked quite well, leaving me with three hours to kill before the show. I spent most of the first browsing in the bookstore downstairs. Then I went up and had a cosmopolitan, ate supper, and waited for the music room to open. (Next time I'll eat supper first . . . my stomach was emptier than I thought, and the cosmopolitan, though tasty, made me slightly woozy. Which was interesting.)

The evening began with a performance by Rosie Thomas, a singer-songwriter from Seattle. (I found amusing, since the *last* time I was in a tavern listening to music, I was in Seattle, and all the performers were from Alabama and Georgia.) She sang well, and I liked her songs, but didn't love them.

Ater about 45 minutes of Rosie Thomas & co., and 30 minutes or so of nothing, Over the Rhine finally appeared. I was rather impatient by this point. (As a denizen of the classical-music world, I read "Over the Rhine at 8:00," and I expect Over the Rhine to be on stage doing something impressive by 8:05. In the world of bars and taverns, of course, it actually means:

Someone will start performing around 8:15, but it won't be the person you're paying to see. The real show might start around 9:00. Or 9:30. We don't know. Just have fun waiting.)

I'm a firm believer in fun waiting. But I had driven 2 hours to be there, recklessly skipping my daily organ practice; I had a 2-hour drive home; my food had been more expensive and less filling than I could have wished; and, besides all this, I was squished onto a sort of carpeted step with one-too-many strangers and nothing to lean my back against. (When the website talked about reserving tables, I didn't realize it meant "reserve a table or you're stuck on an uncomfortable stair-thing." There were also lots of seats at the bar, but they filled up really fast, and I didn't get one.)

So, anyway, I was tired, and starting to wonder if this whole thing had been a bad idea.

And then the opening measures of The Trumpet Child played over the speakers, and they came out onstage (to wild applause). Linford continued the introduction on the piano, Karin started singing--and there was nowhere else in the world I wanted to be.

The song list follows, with commentary, for those of you** who wanted to be there and couldn't. But it's going to follow in a separate post, 'cause this is getting longish. :-)



*Yes, Glim, that means you.
**Actually, you all wanted to be there. Most of you just didn't know it--and presumably still don't. :-P

possible worlds?

Behold the random and pointless quiz-thing, wherein you can enter the exact same name repeatedly and get different (but equally mystifying) results each time:

If You Were Born in 2893...

Your Name Would Be: Umoro Yuu And You Would Be: A Prophet

If You Were Born in 2893

If You Were Born in 2893...

Your Name Would Be: Uaro Ayn And You Would Be: A Time Traveler

If You Were Born in 2893

If You Were Born in 2893...

Your Name Would Be: Ara Iara And You Would Be: The Destroyer of Earth

If You Were Born in 2893

(If I get a choice, I think I prefer Uaro Ayn. Terrible name, but time travel would be fun. Also she has that nifty glowy thing--probably not a lightsaber, since it's not cutting her fingers off, but it looks cool anyway.)

Pointless? Yes, very.

More fun than practicing for a rhythm audit? Also yes (though not particularly very).