We almost missed it, truth be told.
It was one of those looong days. The type of day where work won't seem to end, and the day drags on and on, and all you really want to do is go home, grab a bite to eat, and then promptly fall asleep on the couch from sheer exhaustion.
This is exactly what we did.
We both woke up just in time to realize that, if we didn't rub the sleep from our eyes, peel ourselves off the couches and leave, right then, we were going to be late for the show's opening act. We did not know who the opening act was, or wether they were worth depriving ourselves of more nap time. And we were already fighting a terrific battle against our eyelids, who at the the time, were practically refusing to stay open.
But alas, I had been looking forward for weeks to this particular band coming to town, and I knew they had no dates anywhere nearby in the near future. So, in a mighty defeat of our eyelids, we managed to scrape ourselves up and get ourselves out the door.
Off to Toad's Place in New Haven.
We used to go to Toad's all the time. Deep Banana Blackout, Derek Trucks, John Popper and countless other bands had entertained us there, as we danced on the eternally beer-sticky and dirty black rubber floor. Neither of us had been to Toad's in at least a few years, the last show we saw being Hedcase, our friend's drummer-husband's band.
Not much had changed, barring the addition of a garish metal isle on the dance floor, just left of center stage, separating the 21+ section on the bar-side from the underage section closer to the door. Instead of a metal barrier, there used to be a black net. On a good night, you could sneak into the 21+ secton through the large holes that always managed to appear in the net. On a night where the bouncers were particularly vigilant, you would get stuck on the underage side. I used to get stuck on that side a lot, since most of my friends in college were older than I was, and I refused to buy myself a fake id since I never drank. They would go over to the bar side leaving me in a sea of apparent 12 year olds. Sometimes my roommate would be stuck there with me and those night were always loads of fun, because Davie and I never went anywhere without having fun, even if there was seemingly no fun to be had.
But I digress.
This night, being of more than sufficient age, we were carded, rubber-stamped, and sent on our merry way to the bar. Joe got a gin and tonic, I think, for himself and a shirley temple for me. Poor Joe always gets funny looks when he orders shirley temples at bars, but he ignores them so I can have my favorite drink.
We found an empty table and plopped ourselves down at it, having no desire to dance or stand any closer to the stage for the opener.
The opener had a name. I'm sure of it. She sang and played guitar and barely kept my interest with her predictable guitar and mediocre singing. (Honestly she wasn't as bad as I am making her sound, but don't forget how tired, and dare I say slightly cranky, I was that night.)
Opener finishes her set, clap clap clap, whatever.
Then, the moment I had been waiting (and woken up) for...Stephen Kellogg and the Sixers!
Woo hoo!
This was the first show of their tour, and they gleefully used us a guinea pigs for a few songs, including work by Trevor Jackson, a side project of two of the band members. The show was great, and SK managed to good-naturedly piss off some Yalies, which I thoroughly enjoyed. We were so glad to have dragged ourselves to the show and were bummed when it was over. The boys went on to tour with Hanson (mmm bop) and then George Thorogood (which I would have loved to see).
They are coming to the area again in August, and the show is free to boot. We can't wait.
You can check out the band and, more importantly their music, here. They rock!
No comments:
Post a Comment