I went to the Warfield to see the David Grisman Quintet last night. There were many competing interests, like Dance Jam and the film being shown, the Living Daylights in Santa Cruz with friends; I chose the right place to be. Ahh! I guess I had forgotten what brilliant musicians they are. Everyone became multi-instrumentalist, except for Enrique and Dawg. Matt Eakle played both bass and "traditional" flutes, as well as fiddle during the opening "spoof." Dawg stayed in the mandolin family, but switched to mandola during his duet with Jim Kerwin. He had another bassist for the opening and first sets, Sam Bevins, who is simply astounding. He went from bass to keys later in the show, and smoked on both. Joe Craven played, well, as Dawg said, he can "play anything he can put his hands - or any other body part - on," which ranged from mandolin and fiddle to about twenty different percussion toys, talking drum complete with Santa hat fit over one end, his mouth, and at one point, his skull.
The opening set was a bluegrass comedy act by "Blue Blades of Grass," the DGQ outfitted as country bumpkins playing bluegrass. It mainly amounted to a spoof on Old and in the Way, with lots of those familiar numbers, with tunes like Fannie Hill and How Mountain Girls Can Love thrown in for good measure.
The show ran at a pretty slow pace, with lots of mellow jazzy pieces, with a few more upbeat pieces from Dawg-a-Nova and Hot Dawg. Downstairs heads were bopping, but upstairs was a largely sit-down crowd. Except of course for a few groovy kids who took to the top of the balcony, and Ruth or Rita or whatever her name is, an old school hippie who apparently has been coming to shows there since the Dead graced the stage, who took to twirling and swaying down the aisles letting her long smooth red hair fly every which way. No San Francisco musical event is complete without the bona fide hippie generation.
There were three highlights of the show. The first was the appearance of local violinist/fiddler Darol Anger during the first set. He could well be the sixth member of the ensemble, he's just so good. The second was a session of duets in the second set, where Dawg went one-on-one with each member of the band while the others took quiet exit in the wings. It's the kind of thing I don't know how to describe, I just wish I had the recording to play for you. Precious. Everyone had a chance to shine.
I can only hope to ever be a fraction of the bass player that Jim Kerwin is. I'm guessing he was classically trained from the precision he imparts with the bow. Matt Eakle, who seems obvious to me to be family, sent us into an alternate dimension with his bass flute - like floating across an isolated lagoon in a gondola, on a slightly foggy night by full moon. I think it was during their duet that it hit me what an incredible mandolinist Dawg is, with his ability to come into and out of the music by playing certain chords and notes, accenting certain passages with a single note yet still playing along even though the wires are silent. The texture of his music is very complex.
His duet with Enrique Corria was delightful - an Argentine Trio. The trio would also comprise Rudy Cippola, who passed away earlier in the year at age 99. Again, the duet revealed Dawg's mando mastery, and Enrique filled the historic theater with a unique South American melody. His fingerwork was in itself beautiful, and his versatility with that ensemble is beyond belief.
Joe Craven, Mr. Camptown, carries his sense of humor wherever he goes, from last month's Wake the Dead concert to the hick-roaring humor of character "Fern" in the opening set, right into the duet with his multi- percussion and fiddle talents, holding it all together with a serious demeanor, a loud vest and a necktie. The duet was a desertscape, and started with the "desert" sounds of wind and rattlesnakes, produced by Joe's amazing vocal instrument and Dawg's haunting low-key mandolin.
The third memorable moment of the show was saved for last. To honor the anniversary of John Lennon's death, they made their encore into "Imagine" a la DGQ. Ahhh! Very touching and emotional. The house sat still and mesmerized, their focus and attention on the message and beauty contained in each note. Each member took their turn with a verse, and lent his own unique musical style to the magic.
And no HipFaerie musical review would be complete with talking about boys. Believe you me, there were plenty of interesting folks here tonight! I am realizing how increasingly difficult it is for me to go to shows alone, as I did to this one, because I just don't seem to interact much with the crowd. I walk through the lobby and literally EVERYONE is wrapped up in some conversation with their friends. I see maybe two or three people who are standing alone, and at least one of them is merely waiting for his girlfriend to return from the restroom.
The real heartbreaker was this long, dreadhead boy sitting across the aisle from me. At the end of the first set, we both looked around the audience smiling, and made eye contact. We smiled, and I said something to the effect of, "Nice!" He agreed, but said it moved too slow. That was about it. I walked around the theater, and when I came back I realized that he wasn't with anyone. Just sitting there, to himself, looking around. To keep myself occupied, I practiced whistling the whole of "Scarlet Begonias->Fire on the Mountain."
The hard part came next, in wanting to step across the aisle and speak to him. But some overwhelming fear response kept me from doing it. I noticed all the old shit, yet somehow couldn't get through it. What would I say? Not important. I could say.. no, that sounds too much like a cheesy pickup line. Um... meanwhile I know exactly what will happen if I continue to sit here. Somewhere in this mental onslaught, a really pretty boy comes walking across the top of the balcony and down our aisle, looking for somewhere to sit. He walks a few rows in front of us, turns into the center section, and sits down. I glanced at the dreadheaded boy, who I noticed checking this other guy out the whole way. And later, when this newcomer to our section turned to look behind him at the crowd, dreadhead boy smiled and nodded his head. So there were even more indications that this kid might be family. Or just really kind. Didn't matter, all I knew was that I couldn't muster the courage to go talk to him. And even when he looked around, I shifted my eyes away rather than look straight into his and smile. So as I said, I knew what would happen, as it always does. He slowly packed his things, stood up and left, presumably skipping the second set. And not more than a minute later, some straight couple came up and sat in his seat and snuggled. How's that for a message from the universe.
The next half hour was just a tad bit painful, and while I didn't want to keep replaying that whole scene and realizing how simple it might have been to go over and talk to him, I did have a desire to see the lesson in it. This scene happens too many times, and it's not enough to just see it happen and hope that it doesn't get repeated. Because it does. And I think a really important lesson came up. The lesson is to dare. I really saw the mind become active, try to create a mental dialogue with the boy that didn't bear any meaning in reality. And yet that dialogue kept me from doing what I really wanted to do. So the dare comes in taking a deep breath, standing up, and walking over there, without giving control of the situation to the mind. Instead, the mind's interest is in the standing up and walking. Not on what might happen next or what I could say, but on what is happening each moment, which is standing, walking, and sitting. So what if I have nothing to say. The point is that I connect in some way, instead of bearing my cross in silence. To dare is to be in the element of water. Visualize water washing away fear. I know what I want, where I want to be. Another challenge is clarifying will - moving into the element of fire - using my will, maintaining the razorsharp focus of will. From there, I dare to reach through the fire - unafraid of being burned - to reach the thing I desire. Another lesson I see as I write this is to stay grounded in the soil, the body, and sink down from the ephemeral mind into the solidity of earth. That solidity is a map for action, for manifesting those desires, unmoveable by fear or shadow or uncertainty, firm as a mountain and full of its old, ageless wisdom.
Ahh, what would a show be without wonderful people who teach us things about ourselves, give us comfort and company, with whom we can share the same? And it's all centered around the music, and music is ecstacy.
Shaggy
shaggy@yak.net
12/9/00