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- | <(wip)> | + | When early word of this show popped up on the grapevine |
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+ | So the day arrives and it's a typically perfect indian summer afternoon -- sunny and warm, but cool in the shade or where the breezes blow. Perfect for an outdoor afternoon gig! We get to the venue about 30 minutes before showtime to find that it's already crowded with people, dang! So we park on the side of the road about a quarter mile from the entrance gate, then haul in with our chairs, hoping to find an open spot on the lawn to enjoy the show. Inside, the place is thickly packed already, though most of the reserved tables under the Redwoods are still empty, and there are yet a few unclaimed patches in the grass at the far corners of the space. Friends at a table in the grove wave us down and offer space on their benches, but it's clear to me that a seat there means no sightline to the stage, so we move on after shaking howdy with a promise to return for a longer visit after we'e settled down. Continuing counterclockwise around the back edge of the property, we pass by the soundboard and run into our pal Jon Hart lounging in a chair on the bark mulch. He invites us to pitch camp, and seeing that this offers us a much more centered view than the grass we'd been aiming for, we promptly toss down our crap and set up chairs in his company. Jon has arrived hours earlier in order to set up for a multitrack recording, and his impressive pile of gear is a constant draw for the curious among passersby walking to or fro on the rear pathway. | ||
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+ | As the sun moves west, we are soon enveloped with the cool shade of the redwood towering behind us, and I immediately regret my optimism in wearing summer shorts. Thankfully, boy scout training and years of experience with bay area weather has taught me to prepare well for a variety of climatic surprises; once I pull on my grubby jeans and some wool socks, I'm good to go for the next hour or two. | ||
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+ | Soon enough, it's showtime, and today' | ||
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+ | Twenty minutes later and the subdudes are up. Yeah, the main event! They perform the first few songs as a trio in honor of Johnny Ray Allen, who passed away unexpectedly about two weeks ago. It's great to hear the band, but understandably, | ||
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+ | As the set unfolds, the tunes cover a lot of ground, drawing from most of the band's eight studio releases. I'm happy, but Jon grumbles that it's _exactly_ the same list as last night. Shoot, I hate that! I dunno why that approach is so prevalent in the industry -- it strikes me as lazy and condescending to the audience. Late in the set, a fuse blows and knocks out the PA, interrupting the performance of the penultimate tune. Must be Johnny playing a practical joke on us, huh? Can't possibly have anything to do with old wiring or a system pushed past capacity. | ||
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+ | Jon warns me at this point that the encore is going to be entirely acoustic, with the band playing out in the crowd, so Ting and I move down to the front, then follow the quartet up the aisle for a hand's distance experience. As they begin to play _the Rain_, Ting shushes the crowd, and Tommy, standing next to her, stops playing and responds with a teasing comment before resuming. What a joker! That one concluded, the band pauses a moment before striking out for a new spot. We try to follow closely, but by this point folks are wise to what's happening, so sticking with the band is a little tougher than before. "Make way for Amedeé!" | ||
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+ | By this point, the high fog has blown in and it's starting to get dark. The temp is cool but stable since the winds have died, and we pack our gear up as most of the crowd thins out. I'd hoped to have a few minutes to visit with the band members, but apparently, this is a popular notion, so I'm limited to a few words of greeting and thanks with John, and then offering Steve some unsolicited advice about transporting botanical extracts past TSA at SFO. Less than 2 fluid ounces? You're good to go man! | ||
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