a good night, too many words

tonight at 8:00, M. Ward played in Seattle.  I still don't have any "friends," per se, so I caught the bus downtown by myself.  when the bus was halfway there crossing the West Seattle Bridge, I realized I forgot to  bring my paycheck with me, and I had less than $20 in my checking account.  I was pissed at myself.  where I went wrong: I bolted out the door and down the street after I realized the bus was coming in less than two minutes.  I forgot to look down and to my right as I exited, at the coffee table by the front door and the paycheck lying on top of it.

after a couple minutes of being mad, I accepted it.  "ok Brian, this means you'll have to catch the next bus home, grab the check, run back to the bus stop, and head downtown again."  but after 6 PM (it was ten past seven), my bus runs on the half hour.  so I'd have been arriving downtown with my paycheck in hand at least one hour from then.  I knew I'd probably only miss the opening band, but still... I hate that.  I might like them, they might have something to say, I'll give them a shot.  (it's funny how I'm so different with live bands versus music people recommend to me.  live, I'll give anyone a fair chance;  I normally try to dislike bands I'm not familiar with when I listen to their stuff on myspace or iTunes.  it's closed-minded and dumb, but that's me.)  

I was speed-walking to the bus stop on 3rd Avenue, hoping to catch the 125 as soon as I got there.  as I was half a block away from 3rd I saw a bus pass down it headed south, the way I needed to go.  I was thinking, "I hope I didn't just miss the 125.  I wonder what bus that is..."  the 125, of course.  fuck me twice.

so now I'm thinking, "ok my Capital One credit card has some available credit left, but I don't know how much, and I don't know if they'll let me get a cash advance.  maybe I can put it into the ATM and see what it says."  I need twenty dollars.  somehow, I'm going to get into this show.  

and suddenly I remembered... oh that's right.  I have several hundred in Savings.  I just never think about it because I hate spending my Savings money.  so I hit up an ATM, took out $40, quickly quelled any qualms I had with the withdrawal, got some teriyaki at "Scaryaki" (the construction workers' name for it), and talked to Gina on the phone with my mouth full.  bad manners.  with $34.50 left, I jaywalked Pike past a bunch of people over to the Showbox.  then I realized the bunch of people were actually the line to see Mr. Ward.  cool.  I got in the back of the line.  

a bouncer walked by and I thought he said tickets were sold out.  I asked the guy in front of me if that's what he heard.  he turned around, reluctant to talk to a stranger but polite enough about it.  yeah, that's what he said.  

shittiness.  ok, well I saw a couple black guys walking up and down the line mumbling, "who wants tickets?"  I thought I'd catch one of them next time around.  about twenty after eight, the line started moving up slowly.  for a minute I was worried I'd reach the door before they came back.  he came by, I said "Hey.  how much?"

"Fifty bucks."

I laughed and shook my head.  "No man."

"How much you wanna pay?"

"I'll pay fifteen."  

He pulled out a ticket.  "Man look.  It's twenty bucks a ticket.  Tickets cost twenty bucks, and they're sold out.  Gotta have a ticket to get in."

"Nah it's for my friend.  He wants to come.  I'll pay twenty-five."

"Man I'll give it to you for forty."

I laughed and smiled.  "Nah."  he walked away.

when I reached the very front of the line, the main bouncer held out his arm to let the jam at the door clear up.  I asked him if there were any tickets to buy, he said it's sold out.  right then the same scalper came up to me and said, "Man I'll give it to you for thirty."

I had it ready in my pocket.  "Here it is."  we handed off and I walked in.

the opening band was decent.  a couple of songs were pretty good.  I think the band was called Port O'Brien.  for their last song, they handed out pots, pans, and spoons for people to bang on as they pleased.  it worked out very well, and the band got a good send-off.

after much standing around, M. Ward (just Matt himself) came on stage with an acoustic guitar and a harmonica hung around his neck.  I was already smiling.  I'm pretty sure he improvised his first song.  at one point he stopped with a smile slowly creeping onto his face, trying to find a rhyme, and at a loss, used the same word again.  people cheered.  later on he actually got people stomping, dancing, and cheering along with his jam (no lyrics, just instrumental).  I've never seen anyone bring so much energy into a crowded room with just one acoustic guitar, but he did.

and his voice is beautiful.  many guys are careful with using that word, especially when referring to some attribute of another male.  but really, his pitch is close to perfect, and his tone is raspy enough to keep it from reaching perfect and to bring it to some other beautifully imperfect place.

then the band came on.  first one old guy with a receding hairline and at least forty five years under his belt came onstage to whistle an accompaniment to Matt's guitar playing.  I was about to laugh, wondering if this guy is paid and driven around the country to whistle (very well, actually) for this one song.  but after that song, he grabbed another guitar, and the drummer, bassist, and keyboard player came onstage.

much of the rest of the show is a blur of good memories, but the drummer stood out.  at first he was playing very simplistic, rudimental rhythms.  I was still thinking he might be a local guy the band picked up when they rolled into Seattle, just a session drummer to fill a spot.  but as the show went on, his demeanor began to make an impression.  he was cool, and I mean cool like you would describe an old, overweight, black jazz drummer wearing a suit every night to gig at a dimly red, blues / jazz dive.  he just did his thing.  he wasn't looking around to see if people were enjoying the show.  he wasn't looking at the band for cues on when to do more, when to do less.  after a huge fill, smashing all the toms and crashing two cymbals at the end, he didn't look at anybody to say "how do ya like that?"  he just did his thing and knew it was good enough.  

after at least an hour, the show wound down.  then the first, fake goodbye that everyone knows is fake.  curtain call, encore.  M. Ward came out with a smile on his face and all of their faces, and they played "Vincent O'Brien."  I loved it, everyone loved it.  one or two more songs, and it was the real end.  

I never realized until tonight how great of a vocalist, how excellent a guitar player Matt Ward is.  tonight was one of those rare occasions when I become re-invigorated to pursue music.