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