gabedouglas

I was in the library, trying to get a library card yesterday during my lunch break.
I noticed that the steps were numbered, both in english and spanish. The alphabet ran down the other side of the stairs (for when you walked down). Inside the library there were purple decal feet that let to somewhere I would imagine to be a little kid’s reading nook of some sort.

And I was waiting in line at the Service Desk, a little kid started out from the path of purple feet.
His strides were 2-3 times shorter than that of the desired length to go foot for foot with the path and he haphazardly tried to stutter step into the right stride to get it right, but not between every pair of feet. His eyes would never leave the trail of prints, but his mind would.
You could barely see it. But his little feet would drift between prints and he wouldn’t care or try to correct himself. Three feet later he might, but sometimes his mind would be off.
“Mom, if you were an octopus..,” he asked, his eyes never leaving these mysterious marks on the floor.
“If you were an octopus, would you talk to me?”
Enter Bohemian-type mom holding his little sister. She was what I think of as Bohemian, which could be completely off. She wore flowing materials, a knitted hat, and clangy jewelry.
It worked for her. And as she looked up to see people wondering what the answer was the same as her son, she smiled and looked confident and unembarrassed. You could see her actually trying to render the right answer.
“Yes, yes I would,” she replied.
“What would you say?”
“Mom, if you were an octopus, what would you say..”

“Well, I’d say.. ‘hey come swim! it’s really fun in the water.’”
And his glance went up to mom, to make sure she was actually talk to him.
The glance up made him content and he went back to trying to envisioning who left these purple marks on the floor.
“Mom.. mom, if you were an octopus.. would you sing to me?”

“Yes, yes of course I would. We’d sing together.”

As they left the library into the annex of the building, I almost swayed right out the door with them. I wanted to see what they’d sing, the octopus and him.

But the librarian waved me forward and told me I had to have a piece of mail with my address on it.

So I got dragged to a concert on a Sunday night. I was horribly tired by means of an exhausting week, a bender till sunrise hours on Friday, and a double-shift on Saturday that left me barely on my feet.

I remembered one thing. ‘Ocean’ is the single greatest song I have ever heard performed live.
Ever.
I’ve seen a good’n'plenty amount of songs live. And it is easily the best. Every time.

I manned up and got in the car to go to First Ave to hope they weren’t sold out. If they were, it wouldn’t be a night ruiner. They weren’t, but I have misplaced my ID.
They let me in.
We drank St. Pauli big girls during the opener, Brett Dennen. He was solid and good. Had an island vibe about his music, but was good hippie-driven rock.

John Butler did a lot more vocal harmonies than previous shows. ‘Zebra’ was great.
He played for about 40 minutes, then the band left and he played an introductory song.. An introductory song to ‘Ocean’.
Which always kills me. It just soars and seeps over the sides of my soul.
Organic, changing, and perfect every time.
It is just amazing. I would like to think it is reminiscent of seeing someone like Bach or Mozart play a piece over a number of years. With them slightly changing the themes and the melodies, but always having parts of the song where you know it’s going to go.

Hearing that song and the way JBT talks about music makes me want to be an ambassador of music to all people. I want to bring music to kids.
I want them to be flooded with music. I want them to be embraced by music.

Imagine an opera house. You know, like the ones where the old guys from the Muppets would always be nit-picking. With elegant stairwells, great tapestries, and carvings from some lore I could only try and understand. The ceiling will reach up above you and spider out in different patterns through the balconies. The stage will be almost too clean and too large.

Especially for a five-piece band from Brooklyn who writes songs about drinking in Minneapolis.
Luckily, I had been to the State Theater previously and knew of that horrendous lines for beers. This did not stop my entire party from buying beers, which was AWESOME.
The Holdsteady is feel-good, good-drinking music.

They played all the go-getter songs. “Massive Nights”, “Chips Ahoy”, and “You Can Make Him Like You” all were played with the energy of lions, lions who are doing the thing they love for a safari of people who live on the streets the lions write songs about.

Craig Finn did was he does. He did what he loves to do. It is a quality that is quickly recognizable and quickly soaks into you. The excitement he brings not only to the stage, but to life is one in a billion. His charismatic hitting of power chords, his almost boyish use of the consta-clap, his kid-getting-stuck-in-bag (where he thrusts his arms down and his hands out, almost penguin-like, and jumps about like a Charlie Brown character, giddy with the moment), even his arms-outstretched pose was genuine and everything he had to give.

Franz was in full-effect to. Playing the keys as almost a secondary chore to having the time of his life playing music. Leading you into every breakdown, almost busting at the seams at the start of every chorus. Keeping all the classy people in check with his scultped moustache, his three piece suit, and his drinking of wine (even if it is straight from the bottle. It’s classy when you have near-choreographed moves with said wine bottle.)

Just a splendid night. Great people, great music.