The Showbox

The Return of Gravity

/ Deb / 1 Comment

Isn’t it nice to give up control and just go along for the ride? I finally got to see The Drive-By Truckers last night, and it was everything I wanted it to be. Having not seen the Truckers before, I had no strong opinions on the setlist, so I could just people-watch and see everyone get their Concert Moment. Truth be told, I was already a little emotional about being back inside The Showbox again for the first time post-pandemic. The evening was perfect, the band was having fun, and I’ll go see them again anytime.

And did they ultimately play my Fall of 2021 theme song? They did! I’m taking it as a sign, of course. Because that’s what I do. If there’s even a chance that this was the universe’s way of telling me that I’m on the right path, I’ll take it. It’s been a music-filled week, and that makes me feel energized and grounded.

Some editing of old blog posts reminded me to get out of the house last week to see my friend’s band, The Wayside, at the Tractor Tavern. And of course it was great, and another full-circle moment, as The Wayside was the last live show that I saw before everything went dark in the spring of 2020.

And the cherry on top of my show-filled week: a few days ago, in a conversation with a long-distance colleague, we realized that we had some musical tastes in common. Turns out he had two extra tickets to tonight’s The War on Drugs show at the Paramount. I was supposed to see them a few years ago, but had a conflict and had to sell the tickets. I’ve never seen them live, but my colleague assured me that they put on a great show, and given that he was planning to attend two nights in a row, I’m sure he’s right. Long story short, I now have tickets to tonight’s show and am looking forward to the ride.

So….can I make it a trifecta tonight, with three shows in one week? I’ve realized that the key to making it out the door to a weeknight show is to not sit down after 5pm, lest the rainy weather and the pull of blankets, Netflix, and a couch will prevail. I’ll let you know, but so far I’m liking my chances!

Knowledge From the Box

/ Deb / 2 Comments

The Showbox and the Rock Box, that is.  Here’s what I learned recently from each:

The most obvious thing I learned from the Rock Box was that I should have gone there much sooner. It is a music lover’s dream – individual, various-sized karaoke rooms, with food and beverage service while you sing.  I do not have a good singing voice except when alone in my car, and therefore do not often feel the pull of a karaoke microphone. I had done karaoke exactly one time, in college, and my inebriated trio’s rendition of Devo’s “Whip It” was so loud and awful that the karaoke guy turned our mic off.  But now I’m older and wiser, and on this October night, in the company of a small group of girlfriends and armed with a tablet device that gave us access to any song I could think of, I found my inner karaoke goddess. Our group sampled nearly every musical genre, from show tunes to rap, 1970’s to present day, and I had a blast.  Three lessons from the Rock Box night:

1.  I don’t know all the words to Naughty By Nature’s “OPP” like I thought I did;
2.  Journey is really hard to sing.  Kenny Rogers is not; and
3.  “Smells Like Teen Spirit” is just as fun to yell now as it was 20 years ago.

A few nights later, the stars aligned – both kids had sleepovers away from home, and Portland band Blind Pilot was playing a gig at the Showbox.  I surprised my husband with tickets and a night out.   Blind Pilot is a current favorite of his, and we’ve never seen them live before, so this promised to be a good time.  Blind Pilot is what I call kitchen music…music to listen to while I am making dinner. It’s melodic, unobtrusive, easily digested. Surely their live show would be the same.

We had appetizers and cocktails at a bar, while we strategized about Halloween costumes for our friends’ annual party.  We talked about the kids; we talked about college football.  It was all so easy and in synch….we moseyed over to the Showbox and staked out our spot, and watched a few opening bands before Blind Pilot came on. The show had a great vibe, and they proved to be just as enjoyable as I had predicted. I got my Concert Moment, when they closed with one of my favorite songs, “Three Rounds and a Sound”, which, especially on this night, is a life-affirming tune. Here were my takeaways from the evening:

1. I might be too old to attend shows that don’t start until 11:30pm.
2. People really need to stop groping each other and playing grab-ass at concerts. Seriously. (possibly another sign that I am getting old).

The third thing, though, and really the most important, is that the next time someone asks me, “Why are you like that?” in relation to my concert-going habits, I will now have a better answer.

I recently fielded that question across a dinner table, and the answer was so simple that it eluded me at the time. Now I know that my answer should be – because I want to have nights like this.  I am “like that” because, after I go to a show, the memory is mine.  It gets woven into my musical history.  It is burned into my soul and into my heart.  So that now, in my kitchen on a random Tuesday night, I get to hear this song and remember a great night out with my sweetie, who is still, after all these years, my favorite concert companion.

(Or, as Blind Pilot would put it:  “‘Till kingdom come, you’re the one I want”.)  Indeed.

The Last Show Before Everything Changed

/ Deb / 3 Comments

Remember Pete Yorn?  He had a catchy hit back in 2001, and a great album, musicforthemorningafter.  Pete weighs heavily in my musical past for two reasons.  First, in the days before iPods, his CD was in heavy rotation on a fabulous road trip my husband and I took that summer, and, second, he was the last show I saw before finding out we were pregnant with our first child.

We saw him at The Showbox in the late fall of 2001.  I love that venue, and it was a fun show – pretty mellow, good people-watching.  What was unique was that it was just the two of us.  Usually we attended shows with other people, but that night was just us.  I wore jeans and sassy boots, and we had a great time. 

On Christmas Day, we found out we were expecting our first child.  (The best Christmas present ever, yes?)  That show became etched in my brain as the last time that we were out on the town just as “us”….not us plus “Lil’ B”, our in utero nickname for our oldest.

I had a vaguely defined goal that I would be a hip pregnant woman, and an even hipper mom.  Nothing would slow me down.   I went to a few mellow concerts while I was pregnant, and I even went to Las Vegas (which really sucks when all you want to do is sleep).   The line was drawn, however, at The Gorge.  I bought tickets for the Sasquatch Festival but ultimately, while six months pregnant, sitting out in the desert heat (in the midst of neighboring herbal fumes) just didn’t seem like a great idea.  Also influencing that decision was the fact that my mother had threatened an intervention –  something along the lines of, “over my dead body are you taking my yet-to-be-born grandchild to that concert in the middle of nowhere”.  My sisters went without me, sold my tickets alongside the road, and I spent the weekend at home, nesting.  It was all OK.

Everyone who is a parent knows how hard it is to remember what it was like before the little ones came into your lives.  In the years since then, we’ve talked about that Pete Yorn show and always say, “wait…..who babysat?”, before realizing that no babysitter was yet needed.

If you know me, then you understand that I am overly sentimental.  Commercials make me cry, and my kids give me sideways glances at sad parts of movies, knowing that I will be crying.  So I am a sucker for this: TONIGHT – two kids, many shows, and a Big Birthday later – Pete Yorn is playing at the Showbox (SoDo location, but still!!).  I am looking forward to a date night out with my husband, and I know that the evening will be filled with nostalgia for me.   I still have the same jeans and sassy boots – although I probably won’t wear them – but I am so happy that, after all these years and through so many changes, my sweetie will still be at my side.

There Will Be Vodka

/ Deb / Leave a comment

I bought the tickets before she actually agreed, but I had hoped that I could talk my sister into attending a State Radio show with me, scheduled for this coming March.

Luckily, she said she was in — with the caveat that, since the show is on a Wednesday, she might take the next day off, since I will be “pushing” vodka tonics on her during the show.  (This, apparently in reference to the last time we went to the ShowBox – where, I should add, she was a willing participant. (Buttercup! Buttercup!)).

I am a big fan of Dispatch….. I dig Chad Stokes, and State Radio is his post-Dispatch band, so I am excited to see them.  They opened for John Butler Trio at the Paramount last Spring, and I ran into Chad in the lobby after their set.  But I was too chicken to go up to him – and would probably have said something dorky like “I like your music”, or even dorkier (or maybe not), “my 6 year old daughter loves your music”.   (“You Know I Would”).

So maybe I will run into Chad again, and this time actually say something.   And maybe after the show, I can talk my sister into going to the Dispatch reunion show with me in Berkeley in June.  Either way, a night out with her is a guaranteed good time, and yes, dear sister, there will be vodka.

"Buttercup! Buttercup!"

/ Deb / 2 Comments

My sister dubbed it a “90’s Love Fest”, and that’s exactly what it was. Complete with Doc Martens and long shorts, worn with a long flannel, slyly shouldering a vintage “Drop in the Park” tee shirt.

I’ve been to lots of Pearl Jam shows over the years, but have never seen the grunge look out in such full effect as on this evening. Perhaps Brad’s first show in years, and the potential of a (surviving members of) Mother Love Bone reunion, were enough to bring them all out. At any rate, The Showbox was packed, and we were all ready for a little walk down Seattle’s musical memory lane.

And what a walk it was. I lost track of the number of different musical collaborations up on stage….various versions of back-in-the-day Seattle bands, culminating with a reunion of the surviving members of Mother Love Bone that blew my mind.

I never again saw the dude that I had seen in line with the “Drop in the Park” shirt, but it hit me at some point during the evening that he could not have been at that show, unless he was about 10 years old at the time.  A free Pearl Jam concert at Magnuson Park, three weeks into my law school career — I was at the show, instead of in the law library, which kind of speaks for itself.   I bought one of the shirts but never wore it and ended up giving it away…..(so who knows, maybe my old shirt was at The Showbox with me,  on someone else’s body?)

It was refreshing to see the ubiquitous Seattle drink-in-hand head-nod: that disinterested method of rocking out that I only see from vintage Seattle concert-goers. And no cell phones taking pictures; it could have been 1992 all over again. Except for the fact that I now have two kids (and an awesome husband who offered to stay home so I could have a night out with my sister).

The cab dropped us off at 2:30am, and I spent the next day paying for it. Totally worth it though; as my husband quipped, “that’s the life of a rock star, man”. Exactly.