Music Venues, Musicians, and MySpace

I am not a music person. I can tell you the names of my favorite bands, but not the names of the members in said band (or even list the vast majority of their songs). Still, I have had a lot of fun exploring the Southern music scene with my friends and wanted to share my experiences, as odd as they may be.

Freebird Live (Jacksonville, FL): a two-story venue with the second level as a balcony area to allow fans to watch the action/musicians from above.

Honestly, I do not recall much of this place. We went there to see one of the opening acts (Maroon 5) and skipped out on the main act. I remember staying for a song or two of the next act, but I could not remember if it was Jason Mraz or Gavin Degraw. I do recall mistaking one for the other and walking out with the bouncer calling after us that we could not come back in after leaving.

House of Blues (Orlando, FL): a medium-sized music venue with nothing noteworthy; basic setup with bar in back and stage in front.

I remember being mesmerized by a duet between Jason Mraz and Tristan Prettyman, something about the sexual undertones of stuffing a turkey. And although Jason Mraz is always fun, Tristan Prettyman singing her version of Toxic (lyrics by Brittany Spears) was more than incredible.

::sigh:: Why are the songs written by Brittany Spears always better when sung by someone else?

The RUMI (Miami Beach, FL): a dark narrow night club/lounge.

Music advertisements... A meet and greet with a new musician can be a full out concert followed by a face to face with the musician and question/answer period. Or it can be nothing more than a 15 minute piano composition and a signed photo. No matter how good a new artist is (Ben Jelen, you know who you are), an 11 hour drive is hardly worth a 15 minute greeting. While the dawning realization of money/time wasted may be annoying, laughing about it later with said artist can be a major boost to both his ego and yours.

The Cotton Club (Atlanta, GA): an underground club with a back alley entrance marked by a comic devil; recently shutdown due to building regulations, namely, having a large theater built on the first floor with a small club underneath.

This was my first experience with music obsession at cult level status. It was rather odd meeting people who recognized my sister from myspace. But odder still was meeting (dirty) hippies who believed that Michael Tolcher was a god in mortal dress come down to earth to enlighten people of the secret to life, and were so ecstatic that "this one time" he had honored them by sleeping in their garage because he had no need for materialism. One, his lyrics are fun, with a few "deep" and a few clichéd, just like every other musician. Two, his fans ranged from arrogant chic to dirty bohemian. And three, up close and personal, he looked like the most arrogant son of a bitch I had ever seen, with an entourage of arrogant yes men following in his wake.

WorkPlay Theater (Birmingham, AL): a large two-part venue; work = a large auditorium/recording studio; play = a concrete theater lined with elegant dining tables, reminiscent of the night club in Blood Rayne 2, where the half-vampire assassin must grapple her attackers into the ceiling stereos in order to short out the electrical system, a concrete pit with a large stage on one side and simple black dining furniture highlighted by blue lamps lining the other three sides; a beautiful, elegant, and efficient setup. (yes, I love my violent video games)

I have been to this place so many times that there are just far too many stories to tell: being kissed by a drunk musician in the bar; staring at a guitar player's incredibly tight and well-fashioned pant leg; being included on a stalking mission and chasing to ground a musician in an underground bar; realizing that a radio edit can make a musician sound like a punk [decided to edit out the original p-word i had here], when in reality his appearance, voice, and demeanor are that of a "mean drunk" that you want to bed and brag about in the morning.

Sticky Fingerz (Little Rock, AR): another two-part venue; one part restaurant, one part bar and stage; both favoring a red/orange color scheme.

Simply because there are servers wandering between tables and taking orders does not mean you should sit on your ass and order a drink. One, bands play to be heard, not so you can make small talk. So if you want a drink, make the effort to go to the bar where the bartender does not need to hear you because s/he can read your lips and know what you want before you even say it. Two, do not drink the unfamiliar drink the server brings you knowing full well that s/he could not hear you over the loud music. Three, do not drink that unfamiliar drink in one go just because you are pissed off at your group for sticking you with watching their purses/jackets while they had a great time by the stage. Four, brushing off passing out for a minute or two after gulping that unfamiliar drink does not sound as funny when your group goes up to Will Hoge after the show and tells him that his music literally put you to sleep. (He is a great musician, and his music really had no part in my two-minute blink.)

Floyd's Music Store (Tallahassee, FL): not an actual music store, but an underground club with a slight pit in front of the stage and the bar in the corner.

In darkness and multi-colored lights, Bain Mattox is this dark exotic god with a voice that resonates with the sadness you indulge when no one is looking. In brightness and studio lights, he is this pasty sorta fellow with a voice that echoes personal grief. In the dark, he was hotter than my Romanian 20-something computer teacher. In the light, he is not the type of guy I would have taken a second look at.

Today's Lesson: You cannot trust your eyes to make aesthetic judgments of physical beauty. And a musician's strength/beauty/etc. is not reliant on what your eyes tell you, but what your ears hear and your heart feels.

Bain Mattox is an exceptional and intelligent song writer. His voice is powerful. And he is beautiful in the dark.

Off the Wagon (Montgomery, AL): a long dark and narrow bar with the stage up front, the bar going down the side, opposite a large staircase, and a sports-bar-type area in the very back.

30 Seconds to Mars. Oh goddess. That voice... That sound...

Go see them live. Now.

The Social (Orlando, FL): a wooden bakery (?) turned bar, complete with converted brick ovens and an old-fashion photobooth; across from a Mexican cantina that serves really good nachos.

I honestly cannot remember much about this trip besides getting this huge plate of nachos before the show. Oh, and playing hangman with some new friends while sitting at the merch booth waiting for the show to end. And one more thing, realizing that Will Hoge may be a great musician, but the direction he is currently going in is the complete opposite of why I liked his songs in the first place. He is still a great musician though.

Monsoons (Mobile, AL): another dark venue, totally unremarkable, except for the drunk girls who kept trying to sit in my lap and the drunk guys who kept trying to steal my seat.

It never ceases to amaze me how women can sing misogynistic lyrics about a guy dumping on "the other woman" for not being a sex kitten all the time, when he can just go back to fucking his real girlfriend who will, at least, make him a sandwich afterwards. If you were into the sound of the music and had not yet Googled the lyrics, I can understand. But if you know the lyrics by heart, how can you stand there singing lyrics that degrade you as an individual and force you into the mold of something so completely inhuman (inanimate)?

The Blue Gill (Spanish Fort, AL): another two-part venue with an indoor restaurant and an outdoor stage.

Stuffed animals... all over the stage. I am not quite sure why.

The interesting thing about hanging out after the show is having conversations that have nothing to do with music. Behold, the power of going off on tangents and realizing that you share the same interests with people just out of your age range. And then there is talking politics, not the melodrama of today, but finding other people who are intelligent, well-spoken history buffs just like you.

HOB Parish Room (New Orleans, LA): an extremely fun wooden room imitating an obscene church where paintings of saints are replaced with paintings of infamous personages enacting their favorite deadly sin.

Crowd watching is a fun activity to indulge in when the opening act does nothing to keep your attention. No, not everyone is so obsessed with the bands that they rock out and mosh and whatnot. Yes, a lot of people just stand there enjoying the music. Yes, there will always be at least two blonde women in capris who take off their stiletto heels to dance barefoot in the crowd. And yes, there will be one or two males who are so full of energy that they are bouncing on the balls of their feet, but refuse to get out there and dance. Crowd watching is fun.

Lola Ray... Lovely men with lovely hands (to quote a myspace bulletin). These boys are a pleasure to watch and a pleasure to listen to. I sang the songs I knew and fell in absolute rapture with the songs I had not yet learned.

*** NOTE: For more information, click on the links provided and they should take you to their MySpace Profiles where you can check out schedules and listen to a few of their songs.