Last night we saw William Elliot Whitmore at the Hotel Cafe. It made for a pretty swell saturday night, good venue, good sound, good show etc. The opening guy was just finishing when we got there, but he closed with "I'm on Fire,"a Springsteen song (also covered by Hawks and Doves, referenced in a Gaslight Anthem song and the inspiration a PMFS song title, Six Inch Valley). And the headliners, Hoots and Hellmouth brought their own hardwood floor, the better to stomp on. At first I thought it was about the most pretentious thing ever, and was sure that they must be from art school in Brooklyn, but as they played, it turned out they are from Philly and I concluded that, in fact, having your own stomping floor is pretty awesome.
Willy played a nice cross section of his catalogue, mostly just taking requests between Iowa dirt stories and odes to "party liquor." The dude certainly brings the pain for one guy and a banjo, something comforting to aspire to if/when geography, life and age finally render the rock band dalliance impossible.
Karaoke with band dudes and brunettes afterward. No, I didn't sing. Fresh dew on the bike seat when I came out. Veggie burrito for a nightcap. Nothing old or sad. Not having to work in the morning is fucking amazing. Six day work weeks? Not fucking amazing. Bottom line though, Saturday night is some good shit.
-OSB
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Still grumpy, one year later.
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