If I Could Start That Entry Again.

[tablesaw]

A little while ago, as wjukknibs and I hung out by the bar, watching other people order food and waiting for the Paul Kelly concert to begin, he mentioned how upset he was that I had written about him being drunk when I told him about the concert.
"That's funny, I didn't even notice you were drunk."
"I wasn't!"
"Then what are you talking about?"
"You wrote that I was unemployed and drunk!"
"No, I didn't. I wrote that you were unemployed and broke."
"Okay, whatever, but when you look back at your journal, you'll see I'm right."

Sure enough, he was. I hereby publicly apologize, wjukknibs, for calling you drunk when, in fact, you are broke.

wjukknibs and I both arrived at Largo a little late than planned (though I slightly later than he). We were still there before 8:30, though, and got into the modest queue of people without reservations. We were let in a bit later, after the fancy-schmancy dinner people had done all of their fancy-schmancy non-peon things. By the time we got in, most of the stools at the bar had been taken, and so we moseyed over into the corner. There used to be stools there, too, but they were sadly absent. We chatted about various things, and then a little bit before the concert started, someone started asking around wondering if there were people willing to share a booth. I was hungry (I'd missed breakfast), and wjukknibs knew this, so after making sure that he wouldn't have to worry about buying a dinner for himself, he volunteered us for the table.

And what a table it was! It was a booth and was extremely close to the stage. I'd noticed that it had been empty, but didn't think anything of it; the last time I saw Aimee Mann and Michael Penn at Largo, they had used that booth as their greenroom of sorts. So, it was a prime position and worlds better than our SRO corner. We had to share the table, and were seated between a very nice, young Australian couple and a slightly drunk and noisy American couple.

Kelly's music was great. As is often the case when listening to an artist with a large repertoire of which I know nothing, most of the songs went (very enjoyably) in one ear and out the other. A few songs made enough of an impression on me that I still remember them: "Midnight Rain", "If I Could Start Today Again", "The Oldest Story in the Book", and "I Can't Believe that We Were Married". (All titles are tentative and subject to being horribly wrong.) There was also a very amusing new song called "Young Lovers" which he claimed not to have played before. Unfortunately, to make it to work by midnight to relieve the only other person working, I needed to leave before the last song, and also missed any encore. (Getting to work was Hell, but you don't want to hear about that.)

The opening act was a young, talented and very beautiful pianist singer-songwriter named . . . well, that's a problem. As mentioned above, I had to leave a bit early, I wasn't able to browse the mailing list and merchandise table. As such, I wasn't able to pick up the postcards for the opening act. I also, apparently, misheard her name. I thought it was "Anna Steela", but it turns out that it's not. It's too bad, because I thought she had a good set, and I wanted to learn a bit more about her. Her voice was in a range similar to that of Fiona Apple, although her songs and style reminded me of an old friend from Santa Barbara, Jennifer Terran.

And now I'm at work, which currently makes the Doldrums look like the Bermuda Triangle in a hurricane.

SunNYTX: 21.