And then there was the weather.

Being Alone In Small Towns

Last Saturday I met my daughter in Seattle and we went to the Los Campesinos show at The Neptune. Great show, lots of fun and energy, so much that we lost our voices. LC somehow couple angst, loss, and a stark awareness of mortality, with love and zeal and humor. (They would spell it humour.) But back to small towns. Monday night they played a small club here in Bellingham, The Wild Buffalo, so I bought a ticket online and planned on going after I drove out to the county to watch Bellingham High School girls basketball team play their last game of the season. By the time I got back into town and parked right around the corner from the club, I just sat in the car until the heat dissipated and the chill set in, thinking that I should go home, that I didn’t want to go to the show alone, that it wouldn’t be any fun without my daughter (who is SO fun at live shows) but then I got it together and slipped into the club to catch the end of Keaton Collective’s CD release gig. By the time the band got onstage there were probably only 75 people in the place, but that didn’t stop LC, and they seemed to thrive—Gareth, and eventually other band members moving onto the dance floor dragging their instruments and cords, bantering with each other and the small, but energetic crowd. And I’m glad I got over myself and walked through those doors. Any band can have good sound, can play a flawless set, but when you can play a small club in the far lefthand corner of the U.S., rock your asses off in front of 75 people and have a good time doing it—that’s what live music is all about.