Just Cyd.

John Gillespie and Alexa Rose/Rebecca Jones, Wake Forest Listening Room, Wake Forest, NC

One of the things I admire about John Gillespie is that he just -IS-. I walked into the Listening Room side of Page 158 Books as John was doing sound check, and he greeted me mid-song and then kept going - He had business to attend to, but by golly he was going to acknowledge his friend from three states away had just shown up for him. The black tee and blue jeans he was wearing were what he wore on stage later. No glitz, no glam, no fuss. Well, he might agonize a bit over which black tee to wear, if he feels like making some sort of statement. Tonight was a plain black tee, one fewer distraction from his performance. Alexa and Rebecca were milling about, setting up her merch, Alexa in denim overalls and a sweater, Rebecca in a buffalo plaid shirt and jeans.

An hour or so later, after a disappointing Mac & Cheese dinner at Strike and Barrel a few doors down, I was back in the Listening Room, greeting the manager, Mike Allen, and a growing number of friends I've made since I began this journey nearly two years ago, while grabbing a drink from the bar and claiming the chair closest to the exit. People continued to stream in and mill about, until Mike bounded up on stage to give his quick announcements (bar, restrooms, merch, please don't talk), and indicate the show would begin soon.


John stepped on stage without much fanfare, but that's where the ordinary ended. His first song out of the gate, "Tell You," took off like a shot. I've never seen him so bold, or heard him project so much of himself into his work. He opens his Live At The Eno House album with the same song, but with a bit more restraint. He cranked this up to 11, and never looked back. Stage banter while tuning is a thing ("we tune because we care"), but this, too, was pure professionalism without being smarmy and scripted, singing the praises of our hosts, the headliner, what had passed and what was to come. In a brief moment of humanity, he paused to take photos of the crowd, surprised that he couldn't fit the entire audience into a single frame. Ricky Garni, the photographer for the evening, brought his wide angle up on stage to help out. (those photos are here!). I truly believe John was feeding on the energy of so many friends there to see him, and that professional high that comes from sharing the stage with an idol. John bursting into tears at the end of his final song was a surprise, but not. He is far too genuine and wholly grateful to be anything but overcome with emotion at the outpouring of love shown to him. The day he shrugs something like that off is the day I walk away from him.

John's Set List:

Tell you
Shine
Radiant
Lies
Alive
I Died Too
A Mark
Not Now
Swimming Test

After a break to re-arrange equipment, Alexa took the stage, a false start at first, having left her tuner elsewhere. She made jokes, citing the lack of recent shows. Never mind that she forgot the lyrics to her first song partway through. "We still love you!" I shouted from the back row, hopefully speaking for all assembled that her showing her humanity made her all the more endearing. The Anti-Diva in a calico prairie dress.

When she opened her mouth, what came out was part sound, part emotion, but all bliss. Ethereal, heavenly, songbird-like; those are the words I can pull forth to describe her voice. Clarity like a bell ringing out, effortless. The word "sound" is not nearly polished enough to do justice to an acoustic guitar - truly acoustic in that she played and sang into a single mic - backed alternately by pedal steel or banjo, also picked up by the same single mic. Voice and strings blended so beautifully, I found myself swimming in the sound. It was hard to tell where one ended and the other began. The intimacy contradicted the 100 people in attendance, the speakers overhead and the brand new sound system creating a room in which Alexa and Rebecca were playing to each person individually, until applause brought us back to the reality of a shared experience. The rapt attention of the near-capacity room is a wonder to behold. Mike told us to be quite, and by golly we were.


If the sounds swirling around were magical, then the words carried on those sounds were something beyond that. I find myself lacking the vocabulary required to describe her words. Maybe I should just let her tell you herself.

Human

I want to go downtown and look some stranger in the face
I want to be myself again, remember why I love this place
I want to wake up now and squeeze the living from the day
I want to believe truly everything's gonna be okay
But I'm only human now
I'm as vacant as a drum
Won't you tell me I'm allowed
to be overcome
I wanna feel clean, shiny and new
I wanna wash myself away til I'm just a mirror before you
I want the glossy sheen of a new leaf in the rain
I want a solid color that the seasons never change
But I'm only human now
I'm as vacant as a drum
Won't you tell me I'm allowed
To be overcome
I'm moving through your love like a paddle in the sand
Pretending that it's water cause I want to be an easy woman
I want to take a swim in some frozen channel to
Remember I was dying when I washed up gratefully over you
But I'm only human now
I'm as vacant as a drum
Won't you tell me I'm allowed
To be overcome
I want to make it clear you don't have to speak up to be heard
Sometimes it's even louder to find some quiet in a word
Don't let em change you, kid, that's what somebody said to me
But you know it gets harder to hear myself over all this humanity
I'm only human now
I'm as vacant as a drum
Won't you tell me I'm allowed
To be overcome
To be overcome
To be overcome

Another heartbreaker of a song was Tried and True

I scribbled down these words as she sang,but could not find the full lyrics online

Storms:
I can't pull the weeds from your head, I have to tend my own garden bed

There are storms in you I never saw. I don't need you to tear out all your walls, but I could use a window.

Throughout their performances, John and Alexa were just two old friends building each other up without a hint of irony or veiled jealousy. The love flowing through that room was the warm hug we all needed that cold Friday night.

-----
Trip #4, Concert #6

Snow.
Changes people
Haters heat up, tempers flaring, so hot you'd think they could melt the offending freeze with their gaze of rage.
Lovers embrace it, hunker down, soup pots simmering, snowmen and sleds surrounded by laughter, smiles and mismatched woolens.
Middle ground, if it exists, is slim and tenuous.
"We need the cold and snow to appreciate the beauty of spring," I'll chirp, Pollyanna in a parka.

Snow gives the landscape makeover - highlights the contours, brings out the ridges and things normally blended together or hidden in foliage, changes disorienting at turnpike speed, new as it is, trying to reconcile what is NOW with what was last week.
Hillsides of barren trees become pale skin under thinning hair, The World's ugliest dog in landscape form.
Cheekbones teased out of an ordinary face, A drag queen's first layer before the pastels of spring come into play, the palette saved for special occasions. What is Appalachia's drag name?

But lines blur. "Whose lane is this anyway?" is not as funny as a similarly-named TV show. The show I drove down to see was canceled before my departure, the musician notifying me personally, hours before it was made public, wanting to spare me the expense of the trip. The hotels paid for, I forge ahead, with a tease of an alternate idea. Their Plan B was canceled by the next morning, three-fourths of the band not willing to take the risks of doing battle with Mother Nature. The Triangle itself all but shut down, save one show I didn't know about until just hours prior. Do I risk it? I don't know the laws. Does "winter storm warning" in NC translate to "level 3 snow emergency" in OH and all that comes with it? I know what I'm doing out there; does anyone else?

I do, and the risk is worth the reward. I'm greeted as he glides to the stage, a side hug and a kiss on the cheek, rough stubble lingering, mine alone to enjoy. He talked to me mid show, from the stage, shouting out our shared home state, later asking me to confirm the oft-missed Canal Street Tavern. Our little inside joke. Lifelong friends on our second meeting. His post-show glow and sincere thanks that I made the effort. The moderately well-attended show should have been a sell-out. this time it's Mother Nature that is the woman who ruins everything.

Carefully penguin-walking my way back to the parking deck, the pt pt pt of the icy pellets as they hit earth, still warm enough to remain slush on the ground. Echoes of laughter and flashes of light as college kids do battle with snow balls and cell phones, trying to capture the moment for the 'tok, or 'gram, or maybe mom and dad back home. I chuckle with them under my hoodie, hoping they remember to save a copy to their brain, to recall years later. Google Maps directs me through campus, down residential streets and past buildings I've heard of but not yet viewed. Students are out en masse, just another Friday night at UNC Chapel Hill. Rain with teeth can't stop the promise of a good time. A collection of snow-people chill on the ledge of a historic building/tower that I cannot find in the full, lush summer street view of Google Maps.

By Ohio standards, the highway is fine: slushy, sloppy, but lines are mostly clear, and other drivers match my reduced-for-survival speed of 40 MPH. Rover's new Coopers serve us well. The plows aren't out, but there's no point in plowing until it stops. By the next morning, the only signs of the storm are the plow-deposited piles, and the frustrated hotel guests trying to re-book canceled flights. Did I dream it all? my still-damp hoodie confirms my remembered weather, and the two different event posters satisfy my other questions. By the time I venture forth post nap, well past noon, my pink plaid flannel is all I require.

The blue sky of the drive home belies the prior storms, until Greensboro and points northwest show accumulation retained, the power of elevation. The sun spotlights the frozen tears streaming through the rocky borders of my path. Ramrod straight, as gravity demands, their sparkle and spikes adding yet another facet to the face of the path I thought I knew so well. The icicle tears spring forth from hidden places; what else am I not seeing? I shudder, collect myself, and sing louder, drowning out the voices of all that must be faced when i return to what still counts as home.

I can't just call this concert travel this year, since two of the events already booked are book-related (har har).

First up is Mike Garrigan opening for Nikki Meets the Hibachi at the Eno Artists Den in Hillsborough, NC. Found an airbnb near the venue, too! Currently on my second listen-through of Semigloss Albatross, and I'm kicking myself for not diving deeper into his stuff earlier. I'll be buying & downloading that album shortly. It's all melancholy piano/vocals and I am just blown away by the emotion in the simplicity.

[And no, I will not be going to Darren's show on Jan 19th in Carrboro. Something about it doesn't sit right (college town, limited parking, not thrilled with the headliner), and let's face it, I'm a bit salty that I can't find ticket info online. The venue's site has nothing, the headliner's got not much, and Darren's site hasn't been updated in over a month (the 10/17 Greensboro show is still listed. Dude, you NEED me!). Hoping like hell he's got other shows planned. I'm sure he will. He better!]

Events #2 & #3 are both for the release of Tom Maxwell's A Really Strange and Wonderful Time, his book about the Chapel Hill music scene 1989-1999. First I'll be going to the event at Flyleaf Books, and then two weeks later I'll be attending the event at the Wake Forest Listening Room. That's actually the first thing I booked! Pretty much as soon as it was announced back in November I got my ticket, because by golly I do NOT want to miss this! And having met Mike, the owner of WFLR, I wanted to check the place out now that he's been able to reopen it.

The Flyleaf event is also the day after Darren's birthday. Not going to pester him, but I'll be in his neighborhood and love to buy him a drink or something, but he doesn't respond to messages, so *shrug*. Trying to decide if/how to let Zach know I'll be in his town at the end of the month, but again, I don't want to be That Girl, the overly-excited groupie that won't leave them alone. I'm driving halfway down after work, staying in WV/VA, and staying the one night in NC, so it's not like I can spend another day in town - I don't have the money for a 3rd night. I'm pushing it as it is. But it'd be great to see one or both of them outside of the pre/post show busyness. I'd really like to resume my conversation with Darren on writing, and with Zach on how on earth he got from WI to NC.