Listening Live

There's diamonds in the avenue as the dayshift turns to night
In the Empire diner dreaming hard rain, fluorescent lights
As the waitress fills my coffee cup and the working girls go by
Drenched Irish cops are dreaming sex and peep show alibis

Everything underneath the skyline from the east side to the west
I see the miracle in real time and there's one I've loved the best
See there's an angel on the D train as she's flying to my world
And I'm waiting for a New York City girl

Times Square looks like Avalon in a Disney morphine dream
Dylan Thomas rides a white horse drunk at the counter next to me
I wake up in the bed sometimes and watch her as she sleeps
In the silence and the sirens I pray her soul to keep

The Catherine wheel burns bright tonight down on the avenue
But nowhere near as bright, my love as the fire that burns for you

Everything underneath the skyline from the east side to the west
Of the lives I've lived and those I've known there is one I've loved the best

See there's an angel on the D train as she's flying to my world
And I'm waiting for a New York City girl John Waite/Glen Burtnick

Listen at: http://www.ifilm.com/video/2670553

Wednesday night I went to B.B. King's Club on 42nd Street to see John Waite. The venue is very tourist driven and serves the standard BBQ fare- heavy mac and cheese and pulled pork sandwiches- tasty enough but with the prices jacked high enough to give your wallet a wedgie. I had TDF tickets, upgraded to front row center if I spent $10, which I think is what they charged for the napkins, so not a very big deal. I needed napkins anyway. The wait staff was VERY pleasant and I never saw the bottom of a water glass- and even though the club policy was to serve through the set, somehow they did so without being obtrusive or tinkling glasses and silver- kudos guys- it's a rough job.

The opening act- oh lord the opening act. The announcer told us this guy had the number one acoustic album in Boston that week- it must've been a slow music week. He had the singer/songwriter thing going on- "I don't care" jeans and shirt untucked, carefully uncoiffed hair which probably took the financial equivalent of a third world country's operating budget in hair products to look, well, greasy. I just wanted to give him a good scrub to get the first coat of hair wax off. He looked like he'd been simonized. A harmonica around his neck- sheesh- ANYTHING but the harmonica. It was apparent he spent a week in London and it inspired the next ten years of song scribing- he sang about the coffee, doing laundry, more drinking coffee- or not drinking it because they only had tea and jam, about Nelson's column, lattes and laundromats; it was excruciating. And six songs and four "I LOVE this town" and a "Go Yankees" later he left the stage. The only thing I dislike more than a whiny pretender to the acoustic stage is a weasel who disses his home team for a smattering of applause when on the road. And then...

John Waite took the stage. He wore a jacket over his dark shirt (tucked in, thank you very much) and "I care so these jeans look like I wore them a few of times but they are clean", and he'd combed his hair. Me, I like a pro. And truth be told John's been around the block lots of times- songs like "I Ain't Missing You At All" and "When I See You Smile" were greeted with applause and a bit of singing along (only lip syncing on my part- I believe folks should only hear the person they paid to hear) He spoke about being glad to be back in New York, and that he'd lived here for years. An audience member shouted "Why'd you leave?" He replied " I fucked up." That statement held just the right amount of sincerity and regret- and I liked him a little bit more for it. His rhythm guitar player- a local boy from Newark whose name was something like Jimmy Laighty (I will find out what this is...) is one of those old school rock and rollers- bleached out blond hair hanging in his eyes- reminded me a bit of Lad-a-Dog from "Please Don't Eat the Daisies" shirt untucked (on him I liked it) and tight...I mean, tight jeans. Sigh. Sometimes I wonder if my rock and roll heart beats faster to the music or the outline of a particularly fetching glimpse of denim clad thigh seen behind the body of an electric guitar. Matters not. This guy could PLAY. And he was playing- he and John moved the music back and forth across the stage with such... joy. If you've ever stood in Washington Square Park and watched a bunch of West Indians chase a hakky sack back and forth between them, dreads flying and bodies leaping through the air, you've seen a similar energy. The bass player was younger, very serious... a fan of Mott the Hoople- though by his looks he was listening to his Dad's albums. He played proficiently but reminded me a bit of the kid trailing after his older brothers and only getting to get in the game because the guys needed someone to hang out in the weeds in left field.

Sometimes... you can get busy and forget the things you love. Or not make time for them- or write yourself off as too busy. Or too poor for the price of admission. As I sat there, the music flowed over me- live human voices, the sound of slide guitar, rapt faces staring at the stage, I forgot the day- not just the one that had passed or the one before or the packed ones ahead, with their challenges. It was John Waite singing to me- about an angel on the D train- and the diamonds on the street. I have seen them, you know. If you walk along Ninth street from Broadway to Fifth Avenue the sidewalk on the south side has mica chips in it that sparkle like stars in the light from the street lamps. Listening as he sang "NYC Girl" I knew- he'd walked that street too. Living in a big city it's an effort to make the connection between people- it's really easy to go home and hide in your apartment- easy, but not nearly as much fun. The walls echo and the light over the couch is too bright, there's nothing on TV and you've played everything on iTunes a million times. So you go for a walk- or grab tickets to a concert and just go. Because when you hear someone singing your song, and its their song too- the streets, and the nights shimmer, and you connect to it all, and to them. The city's not so big- and oh my how it shines.

:) X