Ahh, hello big world

"Goodbye Little World" closes out the brilliance that is Remy Zero's "Villa Ellaine." After the exhilerating musical rollercoaster of the previous ten tracks, the closer is a charming little ditty that leaves one bobbing one's head with a smile on one's face.

Well, in our little house
There's always room
For all the friends
That help us through
These struggling days

It was in my head last night, shortly before The Damnwells took the stage at TT the Bear's in Cambridge.

I'd moved to the bar to order a beer when I cast a glance back, to the spot to which I'd soon return. Five people were gathered into a loose clump, some standing, others leaning against the partition that separated bar from performance/dancefloor space.

They composed my group for the night. Familiar and friendly faces that have played roles in shaping my experiences in this area over the years - in one case, well before even that. Demonstrating the deceptively tiny nature of that which is the music scene I delve into, all had traveled to Cambridge for the night, arriving in pairs or solo, gradually meshing together with smiles and hugs of greeting.

Others that I knew were interspersed throughout the crowd. It was difficult to scan the audience without letting my gaze fall on a recognizable face.

A random, whirlwind impulse had prompted me to throw clothing into two bags and head to Massachusetts a night earlier than originally planned. It was the prospect of seeing one of my closest friends, bolstered by the promise of a good show by one of my favorite bands.

But as I returned to my spot and shared a smile or two, it felt most as if I had simply come home.

And we got heavy traffic on the stairs
With darlin' Sherrie over there and Sarah's back in town
Kim and Kay sit on the floor
While Zelda hides the closet doors,
Never to be found
See John smile and Mia sigh
Katie cries
Mia plays the violin.

This little world is all I need
And hey, this little world needs
Not much more to be a
Completely perfect world
We will be leaving soon
And we might never get back to you
But before we do
Goodbye and fare thee well

I'd been wondering when the mental Plinko game would come to an end and next week's events would actually register with me.

As it turned out, it was while writing a brief bio about myself, attaching a digital photograph and sending off the email.

Hey. I'm going to Austin. Texas.

I've held off saying anything, as I was waiting to be sure that everything is in place and good to go. As I write this now, I believe it all is. If not, well...I'll take my chances.

The quick story: after the adventures in DC (hello, old brief stomping grounds) and Baltimore (otherwise known as Victoria sees Kevin Millar At Least One More Time), I return to Boston briefly (overnight) and then head off to Austin for the Austin City Limits Festival. As it is being touted, "8 stages, 3 days, 130 bands."

It's my first largescale festival in some time. Since Woodstock '99, actually. I also like to think of it as "Van Morrison, Willie Nelson, Tom Petty & the Heartbreakers and Countless Others." Including, amusingly enough, Matt Nathanson, Guster, Tristan and a slew of other people that tickle my fancy.

I'll attempt to refrain from seeking out John Mayer and slapping him upside the head for the Jessica Simpson debacle.

So yes, a pretty outstanding lineup. But why would I make the trip to Texas, you ask?

Because I'm going to be writing about it. The contest I to which I made brief reference in June proved to surprise the hell out of me. By which I mean that I won it. I'll be an official field blogger for the festival and Project DU.

(Insert adoring, thank you so much sentiments here. Kisses to those hooking me up for this adventure - I'm most appreciative.)

Texas, baby. Texas.

Chronicles of a Go-Go Dancer

There are no bad seats in the Corporate Mad Libs Pavilion, but I've actually grown rather fond of the space behind all of the crowds.

See, when you're dealing with seats and seatmates, there's an issue of common courtesy. You have to worry about your personal space, others' personal space...let's face it, there's nothing worse -- for both parties involved -- than an unexpected run-in between an elbow and a solar plexus. Painful, awkward, bad, bad, bad.

But beyond the seats? That, dear friends, is the land of dancing magic, in which energetic music enthusiasts can get their goofy rockout going on.

It had already been a great evening. I was working the RFAR table with three of my favorite women in the world, and concertgoers strongly supported our Greater Boston Food Band fundraising endeavors. $2 for a chance to meet Guster and help out a good cause? Yes, please. Can I get two? Rogue Wave and the Yonder Mountain String Band had set the happy mood, and I'd spent my time collecting tickets and chatting with the (surprising, delightful) multitude of familiar faces that I'd seen.

By the time the house lights dimmed and the audience began to roar, all but a few stragglers had made their way to their seats. We stood on chairs to look out at the stage to witness the first Guster Takes on Boston entrance I'd ever actually seen.

Lights out, sound cued. "Born to Be Wild" pulsed through the speakers as four blinking red lights emerged on the house right aisle.

The most dorky, glorious quartet of Segway riders ever made its way up the side, around the back and down the center right aisle, slapping hands with the screaming audience members before moving up a ramp and onto stage. Helmets and all. Brian kept his on. We went wild.

As the band kicked off "Barrel of a Gun," my friends and I were so excited -- about being together, about being on the water, about being at this show, hell, about being alive -- that we did what anyone else would do, given the space and carefree attitudes.

We began to jump around, dance, sing at the top of our lungs and otherwise just completely let loose. At one point, a friend from college M and I had seen earlier came over and joined our little line of dancing fools. As he left, he informed M that "you girls look like go-go dancers. I dig it."

Guster's Go-Go Girls. Rolls off the tongue, doesn't it?

We continued for two hours. We probably would have tired at some point, had Guster lowered the energy for a song or two, but the band instead decided to unleash the best set I've ever seen them perform -- and complete the single most enjoyable concert experience I've had. Impeccable energy, musicianship and fun. The crowd loved it, and joyously booed the band back onstage for its encore (band's idea: Let's do an anti-encore. If you like us and want us to come back, boo us. Turn your backs to us and flip us off. The audience added to it by breaking into a chant of "Guster Sucks." Lovely. Charming. Awesome.)

Barrel of a Gun
The Captain
Backyard
Satellite
Amsterdam
I Spy
Manifest Destiny
C'mon
Airport Song (now less Vincent Price, more straight up Satan)
Careful
The Beginning of the End
Ruby Falls
(Nothing But) Flowers (featuring former Guster drum tech and Lowell, Mass., native Sean Lynde on drums)
Demons
Center of Attention
Come Downstairs & Say Hello
------
e:
So Long (the evening's "one time this tour" treat)
The New Underground
Happier
Keep It Together

By the end of the regular set, we were busy dancing our way through breakdown, folding tables, packing boxes, cleaning up. L and I, both thrilled to hear the "Flowers" surprise, danced in time to the beat as we rolled up banners.

Roll it roll it roll it up, "now it's all covered with daisies" -- roll it, roll it.

By the walk back to the cars at the end of the night, after gathering, chatting and saying hellos, I was still bobbing my heads and laughing over the sheer joy of the night. I don't like to say that nights or events -- anything, really -- are perfect.

But this came awfully close.

Stop the boat

Another thing I can check off the list of Things I Never Particularly Wanted To Do But Should Probably Have the Experience of Doing for Life Lessons' Sake:

Sprint down a pier, in heels, trying to catch a boat (ship? dinghy?) before it departs for locations unknown (i.e. Boston Harbor). In this challenge, the pier pathway, of course, is alternately cobblestone and sand - you are, of course, wearing a wrap dress and occasionally showing a bit too much leg for anyone who might be observing the debacle from either of the cruises preparing to set off.

Nicole and I were late. Showed up just barely on time at the wrong pier kind of late. What are we going to do with our evening kind of late. And yet we still put in the effort, jumping out of the car in the parking lot, running in our heels down stairs, out a door, across a couple of streets, down a pier, across the aforementioned cobblestone and sand, to the gate and onto the boat.

It pulled away from shore about 30 seconds later. Hell of an entrance? You bet. Particularly as we breathlessly boarded, laughed, hugged each other to champion our success and then leaned against the railing, the very picture of nonchalance.

Another day, another crazy adventure.

We were rewarded with an amazing set. Truly. As we stood inside the main room, drinks in hand, I realized that I felt so proud of the band that has taken shape over time. Chad, Dennis, Steve and now drummer Max are locked into the same mode. The energy's there, the focus -- the addition of the drums takes already impressive tunes to the next level. During a performance of "Somewhere Beside Me," it seemed everyone -- onstage, in the audience -- couldn't help but bob their heads in time. It was electrifyingly good.

The boat itself was also a good time. Less sunset this time around (August, you kill me with your early to bed crap), but good conversation, good times. Good bad Chinese food, even -- bonus. A lot of faces I knew of (thanks, myspace, you evil thing you), some faces I definitely knew, and then a few that made my night (Hi, G!). And with the exceptions of 1) being hit by an obnoxiously drunk girl's purse -- twice -- and 2) reeling in disbelief at some Jekyll/Hyde behavior, it was a gorgeously friendly, funny sort of occasion.

Worth the wincing that occurred the next morning, when I awoke and instantly realized that my de-heeled feet were going to be angry with me for a long, long time.

The news out of Boston that reached me this morning was horrible, but I was dismayed to realize that I wasn't as surprised as I wanted to be.

People had murmured about how the debris and the water might only serve as the first act, as it were. I'd worried that something else would act as Act Two - although I wasn't really expecting a concrete slab - or three.

I don't live in Boston. I can't imagine what Milena Delvalle's family is going through, although I was among the countless others who thought of them today. I don't have first-hand knowledge of how hellish the Tuesday commute was (but believe me when I say that I certainly heard about it). But I drive there regularly enough to know how exasperating it is to have to detour to Congress Street at 1 a.m. because 93S is closed; I've sat in the tunnels in bumper-to-bumper Friday afternoon traffic, and I've checked to see if those water droplets falling onto my windshield are routine or something else.

Driving Storrow Drive is a nightmare, we all know. Weaving through the tunnels shortly before turning onto the roadway? That's supposed to provide the last few moments of relative peace, not a nightmare onto itself.

And it’s going to take microphones and stages,
Many people rearranging what their plans are for the night time
Hope they show up at the right time
And I’ll sing them my song
And I hope they sing along
I know they always sing along in my imagination.
- Ryan Montbleau, "Stretch"

Looking for that last-minute weekend adventure? Take to the high seas - or, at least, Boston Harbor.

The quick details:
Ryan Montbleau Band
Rock & Blues Cruise
Ship departs at 8 p.m. sharp
Tickets are $25, online purchase (and more information) is available by clicking here

Those attending can get in on the party within the party. One Miss Michelle is celebrating her birthday with the fiesta, and there's a posse prepared to celebrate it with her, sing and dance to the Montbleau gang.

Good time? Goodness, yes.

Be there.

You can burn a show, but you can't burn the experience of being there. - John Mayer, 2001

Concert posters dominate the collection of art, photographs and otherwise visual pieces in my personal collection. Nearly six years of memories, marked (most often in the essential black Sharpie ink) with dates, locations, age restrictions and ticket or cover charges.

The collection provides an eclectic mix, tied together by one theme: all from shows I attended*. There are pieces commissioned by musician or venue, posters that once hung on lamppost or bulletin boards and, in one case, a poster I personally hung on door after door on my college campus to promote a show I'd organized.

Two of them were signed by the musician or bands they promote, but those are early submissions, from before the time I decided I'd rather not solicit a signature.

I made the decision to focus on my experiences because I enjoy the association each conjures. Don't get me wrong - if a vintage Doors poster promoting a show at the Fillmore came my way, I'd be happy to rethink the collection's parameters. But since the odds of that are painfully nonexistent, I'll stick with what I know.

As pieces accumulated over time, and as I made the transition from residence hall masking tape to clean lines and frames, I began to purchase oversized poster frames in which I could create collages. Tickets, photographs and mementos were carefully arranged and assembled. Three of the frames were hung on the largest wall in my bedroom. A fourth waits for me to find a proper place for it. Pieces for a fifth are ready for assembly.

I enjoy noting how an artist conceptualizes a particular style of music or personality of performer. The way little details on a relatively generic piece come to specify an musician's style.

I have a number of Howie Day posters - the broody singer-songwriter never looks at the camera, and all but one are black and white shots. Speechwriters LLC, one of the quirkiest bands I've seen, likened a show with The Alternate Routes to the pairing of coffee and doughnuts, dinner and a movie. An Averi poster got the time of the show wrong, which was fitting. Rufus Wainwright lay spread out on the ground in full Lancelot armored regalia, a nod to his then-recent album release and his extravagant taste.

After I began collecting, I began appreciating. The Museum of Fine Arts, Boston is currently offering a special exhibit on rock art, known as "Light My Fire: Rock Posters from the Summer of Love." I made the trip shortly after the exhibit opened and found myself standing rapt before 60s era posters, many of which shifted in moving black lights. Victor Moscoso? Amazing.

When I happen to find myself at a record store or art shop, anywhere that has rock posters for sale, I flip through the racks, studying the pieces.

Which is a long-winded way to explain how I found myself at a Newbury Comics this weekend, drooling over a Belle and Sebastian poster that I would not buy, but certainly enjoyed. I flipped to the next poster and grinned.

Ray LaMontagne.

I thought to the Paradise, packed with bodies that created sauna temperatures despite the fans near the stage and the January chill outside. Lights blue and purple, drenching LaMontagne's profile with color as he unleashed a molasses-and-whiskey voice. Watching a musician battle painfull shyness as he tried to share his work with a rapt audience.

Just seeing his name on a poster took me back to the show and the five minutes of awe-inspired silence that accompanied our walk out of the venue and down the street.

I studied the poster. Stock cardboard, silkscreened with a green box and LaMontagne's name in simple white. The design included several streaks of paint, evoking the thought of wanting to hurry to get the poster finished and up for display before LaMontagne changed his mind about the show.

I lifted the piece to take it all in, noting that it was signed and numbered by the artist. And in the lower left corner, the date and location.

January 15, 2005. Paradise Rock Club. Boston.

The poster is now ready and waiting for Frame Five.

*Rules and themes, of course, have their exceptions. There is one poster for a show I did not attend: a Howie Day poster for a show in Chicago. I bought the poster on eBay, justifying the purchase with the knowledge that there were many poster-less HD shows I attended and the name of the theater is a nickname of mine. Totally works.

Don't judge me, man.

I know that I look silly. I'm crouched down along the edge of a puddle-turned-pond in the Common, snapping photographs of the duck calmly wading through the shallow water, moving toward me with no concern.

I could justify the apparent goofiness if I feel the need to, you know. And here you are, gazing at me with a quizzical glance beneath your three-cornered hat.

Paul Revere, you're probably the last person with any right to pass judgement on me. And you're musket's crooked.

We exchange quick smiles as I walk away and he moves in to toss bread to the ducks. Bread stored in his musketball pouch. Ahem.

The smiles clearly translate. I won't ask if you don't.

***
Little known fact: The Milly's Tavern site falls within the New Hampshire equivalent of the Bermuda Triangle. It's true. I don't know what the NH triangle is called. Or if it's a triangle, even - it could be a square, a hexagon, maybe even a trapezoid. I'm not aware of anyone investigating the crazy stuff that happens there. I don't expect to see a Time Life book about it.

(Anyone else remember that book? I had it. I was obsessed with reading about paranormal events when I was younger. I blame Robert Stack and "Unsolved Mysteries.")

It's pretty trippy, though. Time stands still. The Red Sox are always playing a game, no matter when you happen to walk in. Full pints of beer are suddenly empty, and then there's another one waiting behind it. Long sets pass by at the blink of an eye.

There's just something that happens on when you walk down those steps and through the door. I'm sure of it.

More than seven months had passed since my last trip to Manchester -- back in AT (Averi Time). And yet I fell right back into the familiarity. Our regular seats at the back of the bar were open and waiting for us. The ballgame was airing from three televisions within easy view. The sound guys were still making me wince with the soundcheck feedback.

It's just how Milly's rolls.

But it felt good to be back. It's not my favorite venue -- not even close -- but I always have a good time. Some of my favorite show experiences have transpired between Milly's walls.

And this evening managed to join the shortlist of favorite concert nights. For two reasons.

First, the music. Great performances. They didn't suck (as I deadpanned at the time). Syd and Patrick Thomas, Mieka Pauley, Chad with Dennis and Steve.

Frankly, it would take a lot of effort to screw up a lineup like that. Two people who just bring me joy; someone I've wanted to see live for quite a long time; and, well, Chad, Dennis and Steve.

The sets were goofy and brilliant. Humor and talent woven together to show just how good you have to be to make silliness really work.

Trying to describe specific moments is tricky. I was determined not to overthink this show. No analysis, just fun, which means I can't look at the moments with a critical eye now.

Besides, it was an evening that made much more sense sense if you were there. Let's say I decided to tell you about P's face when C personalized the "Freak Me" tease. It's an image that is now seared into my brain. It's hilarious. But I'll guess that you'd get puzzled -- or disturbed -- the moment I mentioned the nipple rubbing, right?

Well, it made perfect sense if you were there. Sort of. Anyway. See my point?

There were many highlights: S's smile as he sat in a chair onstage, bobbing his head as he mouthed along the words to "Metaphor." Hearing "The Way It is" when it was not being butchered by my car karaoke rendition. The delight I felt in hearing "Used To Dream" songs come alive, interspersed with older songs presented in an entirely new context.

I suppose what I can say is that there were many smiles in the audience. Mine among them, from a little spot near the soundboards. It was the first time in a (really, really, I can't even begin to tell you how) long time that I went to one of these shows and just enjoyed it.

Second, the people.

See, I tend to be pretty quiet by nature. With many people, I find it difficult to let down my guard. Can't help it. I'm shy.

But among those in the crowd were people with whom I've never felt anything but comfortable. So my inner extrovert came out and I was ready to celebrate.

Laughter, shared stories. Conversation that included earnest catching up. And hugs. A lot of hugging went on, and it felt glorious.

There was one moment, in which a small group had come together. An overall conversation was underway, and people would contribute to that while falling occasionally into smaller chats. Part of this organic assemblage, I looked around me with a smile, realizing that I adored each of those around me and there was nowhere else I'd rather be right then.

A little cheesy, I know. But hey.

Don't blame me, blame the New Hampshire Parallelogram.

In the cards

Perhaps the tarot reader knew what she was talking about. I'll be in Boston on Saturday, taking in the Hotel Cafe Tour show afterall.

As to the rest of what she said, we'll just have to wait and see.

She says
I know your face
But something's strange
In your eyes

Your voice I know so well
Your words I don't
Recognise

And darkness creeps
Borne on cold win
Blows my footprints away

And I see myself
Turn into something else
Turn into someone else
For a while
And I know I'm right
Running into this night
Running another dream to the ground

The girl who falls down stairs
She calls my name
Through the air

She says I loved you once
I'd love you again
If you dare

So wipe the sleep from tiger eyes
And put this moment aside

And I see myself
Turn into something else
Turn into someone else
For a while
And I know I'm right
Running into this night
Running another dream to the ground

Needles buzz like
Neon light and
I am stained by
This town

And all my faith gone
All maps welcome
The stairs have twisted around

And I see myself
Turn into something else
Turn into someone else
For a while
And I know I'm right
Running into this night
Running another dream to the ground

Pull me out
Pull me out
Pull me out
- Tom McRae, "The Girl Who Falls Down Stairs"

Florez, a pretty incredible-sounding band out of Nashville, won the Battle for the Boat over at Icehouse.

The nominations for the Boston Music Awards came out today (or, at least, were in the newspapers today), and Averi earned four nominations. Tying with the Dropkick Murphys for the second highest total, one behind Ray LaMontagne.

Looking over the nominations, I'm psyched. A lot of talented and deserving people/bands earned nods...although it makes for some pretty strong competition in several categories.

My thoughts on several of the categories (those in which I feel knowledgable):

Act of the Year: The Dresden Dolls, Dropkick Murphys, Fountains of Wayne, Howie Day, Godsmack, Pet Metheny and Ray LaMontagne.

Dresden Dolls will have a strong showing in the vote count, and Dropkick Murphys will be able to ride the city love and the Red Sox championship (when you provide the anthem for a monumental experience, that's going to count for something big). Howie Day has been simmering in the Boston scene for years now, and "Collide" has the possibility of affecting the hometown crowd much like "The Remedy" and "You & I Both" did for Jason Mraz at the SDMAs the last couple of years. But Ray should get it. Incredible backstory, amazing voice and I'm sure there are countless people still thinking, like myself, of the awe-inspiring (and I don't use that term lightly) experience at Paradise in January. Ray gets the award, I predict.

Album of the Year (Major): Trouble (Ray LaMontagne), Broken World (Lost City Angels), Joe Perry (Joe Perry), The Way Up (Pat Metheny), Hearts on Parade (American Hi-Fi), The Forgotten Arm (Aimee Mann).

No question. Trouble.

Local Album of the Year: Drawn to Revolving Doors (Averi), Time for Biting (The Dents), A Weakness for Spirits (Darkbuster), Kiss the Culprit (Emergency Music), All I Ever Wanted Was Tonight (Dear Leader).

I keep hearing about Dear Leader and Emergency Music. They might make a showing. But I predict Averi takes this one.

Outstanding Pop/Rock Band: Dropkick Murphys, Fountains of Wayne, Guster, Mission of Burma, Staind, Godsmack, The Click 5.

I adore Guster. But, symphony shows aside, they haven't done much this year to warrant attention. Meanwhile, Dropkick played on the dugout at Fenway Park during the Red Sox pre-playoff rally. "Tessie" was blasted from speakers across the country after the final out was recorded. I'm ignoring the amusement I find that they're considered Pop/Rock. The only competition they face comes in the form of the nattily-dressed boys from The Click 5, who have just exploded over the last couple of months. I think DKM takes it home, but I won't be surprised if we see skinny ties when the award is being accepted.

Male Vocalist of the Year: Aaron Lewis (Staind), Brian Fair (Shadows Fall), Clint Conley (Mission of Burma), Howie Day, Ray LaMontagne, Sully Erna (Godsmack).

Howie Day could get a sympathy nod here. If everyone's awarding everything else to Ray or DKM, perhaps they would want to give him a few votes in this category. But I doubt it. Ray should easily win this one.

Song of the Year: Tessie (Dropkick Murphys), 1,2,3 (Bill Janovitz & Crown Victoria), Collide (Howie Day), Leave (Jojo), Just a Girl (The Click 5), Trouble (Ray LaMontagne).

Johnny Damon might go all caveman on voters if they don't give Tessie the award. For the sake of all Bostonians (actual and honorary), DKM should get this one.

Local Song of the Year: Raging Red (Dear Leader), Here I Am (The Explosion), In Defense of Dorchester (The Street Dogs), A Simple Plan (The Information), God is Going to Get Sick of Me (Aberdeen City), The Razor (The Perceptionists), For Better or Worse (Averi).

Averi should take this one home - and I think the guys will.

Local Male Vocalist: Ad Frank, Brett Rosenberg, Chad Perrone (Averi), Jake Brennan, John Powhida (The Rudds), Mike Gent (The Gentlemen), Reverend Glasseye, Ron Ragona (Lost City Angels).

OK. Nomination folk. Big problem here. You haven't even nominated one of the Boston area's best male voices. Was it because he was busy traveling all over the country this year? Did you just happen to forget he's a Boston musician? Where is Ryan Montbleau? Yeah, Montbleau. The guy whose album, "Stages," you all really dug? Glaring omission. That said, I think Chad Perrone should win this one. With the success Averi has had, in particular over the last 18 months, and the word that is starting to spread through his solo work, his name comes out on top.

Live Act: Darkbuster, Fluttr Effect, Jake Brennan and the Confidence Men, Much and the Mires, Robby Roadsteamer, The Dents, The Dresden Dolls, The Slip.

People are starting to really buzz about Fluttr Effect. And many love The Dresden Dolls. I don't know of the others. Yet.

Local Female Vocalist: Amanda Palmer (Dresden Dolls), Andrea Gillis, Emily Grogan, Grace Potter, Jen D'Angora, Laurie Sargent, Monique Ortiz, Sarah Borges.

Grace Potter. I'll be shocked if she doesn't get this one.

New Local Act: Andrea Gillis, Cyanide Valentine, Furvis, Turpentine Brothers, The Click 5, Grace Potter and the Nocturnals, The Mittens.

Who I'd like to see get it? Grace Potter and the Nocturnals. Who I think will get it? The Click 5.

Local Rock/Pop Band: Apollo Sunshine, Averi, Dear Leader, Emergency Music, The Dents, The Gentlemen, The Information, Waltham.

Averi. They're headling Avalon. Enough said.

Punk Band: Darkbuster, Dropkick Murphys, Lost City Angels, The Explosion, The Streetdogs, The Unseen.

DKM could take this, but as far as I'm concerned, Boston's punk scene is one that certainly doesn't need to have a band nominated for Rock/Pop also nominated for Punk. According to that which I have heard from my Boston punk operatives (OK, fine. My brother), The Unseen should get this.

Male Singer/Songwriter: Bill Janovitz, Ellis Paul, Jake Brennan, Joe Pernice, Josh Ritter, Peter Mulvey, Ray LaMontagne.

Damn. Josh Ritter was more on people's minds last year - and I have a hunch he'll be back next year. He's good, but with Ray and Ellis in the list, he shouldn't even be a consideration. Ray will get it, but I'd like to know there was a strong Ellis showing.

Female Singer/Songwriter: Catie Curtis, Juliana Hatfield, Lori McKenna, Melissa Ferrick, Mieka Pauley, Paula Kelley, Sarah Borges.

It's not quite Mieka Pauley's time yet, but keep your eyes on her. Melissa Ferrick is a perrenial nominee, and deserving, but Catie Curtis deserves this.

Blues Act: Eli "Paperboy" Reed, James Montgomery, Johnny A, Monster Mike Welch, David Maxwell, Susan Tedeschi, Ronnie Earl.

Susan Tedeschi. Although some people should cast ballots for Monster Mike Welch. Just for the, ahem, name.

Local Producer: Dave Minehan, Matthew Ellard, Mike Denneen, Paul Koledrie, Scott Reibling, Tom Polce.

Reibling.

alas, seth cohen was MIA

status check - interesting
background ambiance - inflatable mattress, well, inflating ...

god forbid i leave you without something to read during your workdays ... reliable - that's the kind of service you've come to expect - and i've come to provide - with victoria publishing. we aim to please.

so. sooooo, even. interesting experiences today all around. in this episode, our heroine embarks on a search with her punk brother and a touring guitarist, basks in the sunshine of boston common, misses bonding with a "rock star" over our mutual love of caffeinated goodness by five minutes and finally realizes the shift in her attitude about a long-loved band. to top it all off, she winds up sharing probably too much information about it all with her readership.

yep. i was busy. i suppose it would be smartest to start at the beginning of the list and work my way through. i have a feeling this will be a long one. prepared? feel free to grab a drink or something before you start. i'll be here when you get back.

ok, we're all set now? let's go.

after meeting up with my brother (always a high point to any boston trip) and enjoying vegetarian goodness (delightedly per normal), i thought i'd be smart and find the roxy ahead of time, as i had never been there before. figured having the navigationally savvy tom with me would be a bonus. except for the fact that the roxy is one of the most discreetly labeled places i've encountered. which means we walked right by it without realizing.

pondering our next course of action (and cursing tremont for turning sharply at a corner - the corner of tremont and tremont? honestly now ...), we encounter a guy wearing a very gavin degraw-esque newsboy-like cap, looking confused. he asks if we know where the roxy is ... and he joins our search party.

through chatting, i learn that the cap is there for good reason. he's gavin degraw's guitarist and he's trying to get to the roxy for soundcheck. i laugh inside, temporarily banish my cartman voice and instead ask how the touring's been going and whatnot. very nice guy. ultimately, we turn in a complete block and get back to just before where we all met up - lo and behold, the roxy's right there. whoops. he asks if we're coming in, i decline, since i'm sure my brother wouldn't have been keen on joining a pop-rock fest. instead i get to introduce tom to honeydew iced coffee and we chat while lying on the grass in the common during a glorious early autumn day. works for me.

so after leaving the brother type and enjoying dinner, i head to the roxy. since i don't want to be there too early and just stand around waiting for the doors to open, i decide to get coffee. i walk back up tremont, right into an unrecognized or unacknowledged walk-by from the averi guys, get my starbucks and return to the line of gavin degraw fans that stretches down two full blocks. girls in front of me freak mere minutes later when their friends arrive and announce that they just met gavin at starbucks, where he was "so normal, just getting a cup of coffee. he's hotter in person." i snicker (see beth? i can snicker, too).

ultimately i get into the venue, get the first of a couple of $7.50 drinks (which made me think how right dennis was that night at metronome) and enjoy the show. order: tristan, averi, walter, gavin. for sake of not going back and forth between the performance list, i'm mixing up the order of my descriptions. c'est la vie - just figured i'd provide warning.

tristan - great. very short set (five songs, i believe? "evaporated," "guest check," "toxic," "love love love," "better"), but she was on and i'm definitely enoying her performance. people next to me are rude during the set, but that is their problem. i'm just singing along.

walter - when a tall professional basketball player starts busting out a cover of "she will be loved," he's got my attention. the best part is that he would make maroon 5 proud. i'm quite impressed with his set, very impressed with his voice.

(did you notice that, after the first paragraph of this story, i switched from past to present tense? that, dear reader, is an attempt to make sure you're right there with me in the reading process. see? i want us to be on the same page here.)

gavin - i don't quite know what to do with myself. it's my third time seeing him perform, although i did leave about three songs in back in june. i'm not expecting much of anything - other than an early departure from the roxy. get to beat everyone else in the coatcheck line.

instead? i find that a personality has sprung up suddenly. he's mixing things up, he's adding riffs - it's no longer just listening to the "chariot" album really loud with a bunch of people around. i'm actually enjoying myself. i'm even singing along.

but i'm also feeling very out of place. because, for whatever reason, attending a gavin degraw concert is, i realize, much like winning a walk-on part on a wb drama. it's just this complete package of pretty gloss. the lights are lovely - heavy on blues and purples - and gavin somehow seems to be in very close proximity to you, even from a spot quite far back. the band tends to move right from one song to the next, and the audience is just singing along to every single word. waving arms back and forth, dancing along ... and the audience is composed of the lovely beautiful young people. everyone who wanted to be on "the o.c." or "one tree hill" is at this show and they're all rock-casual chic. abercrombie guys galore. one girl? wide-necked black three-quarter length sleeve shirt. red straps underneath, a sash to match around her waist. wearing capri cargos with camoflauge print, stillettos AND a beret. ???

i don't want to be an o.c. girl. although if adam brody happened to be here, i'd be cool with further ruining seth cohen's relationship with summer and later discussing rilo kiley or bright eyes. but he's not, so i'm just feeling awfully old. i focus on singing, doing my thing and saying hi to the people i run into - including a hi-bye conversation with chad that i begin and quickly end (the end part comes from tonight's realization. see below).

which leads me to averi's set. they perform very well. they're all locked into the same mentality and are definitely into the extended jam, which is a good call. stu and michael wail away and are fantastic (but then again, they always are). chris keeps the bass anchors steady, while matt's typical matt - just damn good.

chad's appears to have decided to gradually move away from the rhythm guitarist/singer role to the frontman role. in previous sets i've seen lately, he's gone guitarless for a couple of songs. tonight it's about a third of the set. i'm still not into it - less walking around stage, more playing, please. and do NOT do the "reach out and touch the hands of adoring fans trying to grasp at you in any manner possible." i'm laughing hysterically when that occurs.

his singing is pretty on tonight - the middle earth cold voice is long gone. my jaw drops when he starts teasing silk's "freak me" during the final song ... then i'm signing along laughingly. there's something about seeing chad perrone sing "i wanna lick you up and down til you say stop" that defies explanation. funny as hell and he knows it.

"despondent" is not in the setlist, but "flutter" is back - and he remembers the lyrics this time. bonus. "for better or worse" is sounding better each time i hear it ... something that leaves me feeling perplexed. i love the song, but i want to hate it sheerly on the basis of principle. or, rather, sheerly on the basis that i wish the change that prompted the song never took place.

whenever i've heard that song lately, it prompts me to reflect for a moment, but it really gets me for some reason tonight.

***insight into my mixed-up mind about to commence.***

while pleased to see averi doing well, i've just been really angry/frustrated/disillusioned/etc. with what i've seen over the past ten months or so. and most of it has been prompted by chad. the other guys have always been nice (for the most part) when i had the opportunity to say hi to them, but chad was the one band member i spoke without outside of the whole band thing. he was nice, funny, thoughtful - and it seemed like he wanted to get to know you when he spoke with you. he'd write emails to you to say thank you for coming to a show because it meant a lot to him to see you there.

and to top it all off, you realized that averi was the first band you were really following as they grew. you knew they'd be able to avoid the traps that other bands encounter on the way up.

he's changed - and the band's changed with him. the rest of the guys (again, for the most part) are still very nice, but chad's trying to do this whole frontman thing, rather than being a member of averi. and it seems like they're letting him. he's getting full of himself and now you realize that to him, you're just another person who will go to the shows and sing along, but also one more person to say hi and give a one-armed hug to before moving on to the next person.

now don't go saying it - i know. the more fans you have, the more people who come to a show hoping for an opportunity to say hello. the more photo requests (amusingly, with all the shows i've attended, i've never had a posed photo taken with anyone in the band), the more autograph requests, the more demand. i know this and acquiesce that some compassion needs be present from potential cynics. but there's a difference.

there's no denying the autobiographical aspect of "for better or worse" - "the person i was could go by another name, he's a stranger to me now." for a long time, the fact that those lyrics were accurate just pissed me off. i wanted him to go back - to be the nice guy i remembered and to sing for the near-overwhelmingly kind band of five unassuming guys i first heard years ago (although they could maintain the current musical growth and development).

tonight, however, i realized that i'm not angry about it anymore, just sad about the whole damn thing.

i'd love to be able to just go to an averi show, rock out and sing along, then say, "hey, cool" and not have some of the memories i associate with each song. a large piece of me wishes i'd found another band to play the benefit concert two and a half years ago, that i'd hadn't learned anything more about chad than what i would see onstage. i could have seen the band in boston at some point anyway, right? i wouldn't have had to watch it all shift.

"and i can't change things, i can't change anything, but if i could, maybe i would and maybe that's wrong."

how pleased am i with this year's nominees for the boston music awards?!? make sure to vote for averi (club band/best live show and new rock/pop band - independent), howie (best debut album - australia and male vocalist) and john mayer (song of the year - "your body is a wonderland", male vocalist and act of the year).

yeah yeah!

while currently experiencing the fun exhausted/wired sensation derived from overall lack of sleep, i need to post about the events of yesterday and today, as they proved to be absolutely phenomenal ...

yesterday was the great boston road trip with miss elizabeth, as we were traveling to paradise to see averi - beth's introduction to the venue and my first trip there in just under a year, not to mention my first real experience with actually driving into the city (note: probably because i don't have to do it frequently, there is something i just love about driving in or around boston. probably also because i just love boston in general, but i digress). after making storrow drive my bitch (bwahahaha), we arrived at the upper end of commonwealth and made our way to t's pub, which brought back memories of paradise concerts of the past and overall warm fuzzy feelings about the city (not to mention my glee about having the red sox game projected onto a huge screen behind me, despite the fact that the sox were losing to the blue jays while we were there and, in fact, wound up losing 4-1 - boo ... ). since our timing was impeccable, we were in the club with plenty of time to spare (we actually wound up having more time than expected, as the schedule for the night was pushed back an hour - averi was originally to go on around 10:30, but when we arrived, we found that they were going to go on at 11:30 instead and, upon discovering that, we counted our lucky stars for deciding to drive into the city instead of taking the t, the last of which left north station at 12:10. it would have been "hi averi, bye averi" if we'd ridden in from beverly). after listening to missing joe, who were pretty good and were obviously having so much fun, which was great to see in an adorable they're-living-out-their-rock-star-dreams sort of way, we met up with miss michelle and waited through a set by another random band that i wasn't impressed with (the three of us agreed that attempting to channel bono is an impossible task that no one, no matter how talented, should attempt to do - covering a u2 song is one thing, but trying to BE u2 is something else entirely) before averi (which, for the record, i should make sure everyone is aware is pronounced a-ver-e, not ah-ver-e ... if you're going to try to come off like a huge fan, know the band's name, ok?) took the stage. the guys obviously were having a great time performing for the packed and highly energetic crowd - in fact, having a great time in more ways than one. not only were they incredibly excited about the crowd energy and devotion, they also were enjoying the libations provided ... a band that takes shots onstage together sticks together, right? ;-) chad proved particularly hilarious, providing a plethora of hilarious quotes for the night, including "if elivis was here, i'd tell him his daughter's a bitch!" and "mom, your son drinks like a champ!"

while the entire set was phenomenal, probably the best i've seen them play (save, of course, my show, as that will forever be my favorite averi experience - what can i say? i'm biased.), my favorite two songs were probably "flutter" and "this liminal life". while my favorite song off of "direction of motion", "flutter" was particularly amazing because i was able to participate in and experience one of my favorite types of concert moments - when a musician or band tells the audience to feel free to sing along and the audience winds up singing so loudly that the singer/singers stop singing and just accompanies instrumentally. i always love the expression on the particular musician/musicians face/faces ... the look on chad's face as the audience sang the first four lines was so full of joy - i can't even begin to imagine what an amazing sensation it must have been for him.

and then there was "this liminal life". i can't believe i didn't like the song when i first got the album - it's one of my favorites now and always a favorite when i see them live (largely because matt has the greatest facial expressions while he plays drums on that particular song). since it's the big averi "dance song", the band invited anyone interested up on stage to dance and i wound up heading up there with michelle to rock out (after being pushed towards the stage, i wound up getting her up there with me - someone who shall remain nameless - oops, i lied - BETH - chose to remain in front of the stage) with the crowd of others who wanted to move their bodies and spill their drinks on the stage while dancing around or with various members of the band (the gold star goes to the tall guy who was grinding with and pretending to spank the ass of chad). SO MUCH FUN.

anyway, the set was tight, the band was incredible and everyone seemed to have a great time. it was wonderful to hang out with beth and michelle and be the three silly, fun girls we've been known to be from time to time (hehehehehe ... debauchery). following the performance, everyone was crowding around the merch table to congratulate/request autographs from the band and i made my way over to say hi to chad and congratulate him on a great show. he was signing tons of cds, posters and whatnot and looked up to see who was next and did a major doubletake (not quite as huge as my howie doubletake back at the paradise pmb show, but a valiant effort) upon seeing me and, to my delight, recognized me in his tipsy state and gave me a huge hug and said he was happy to see me and that he'd thought he saw me earlier but didn't know if it was me and if i'd cut my hair or not. i congratulated him quickly and wished him well before letting the rest of the crowd talk to him, but it felt great to be able to get a big hug and smile and to be able to give him props for a job well done.

after a brief return to t's pub, taking on mapquest directions (honestly, who says to take a slight left when you really want to just go straight?), storrow drive, bumper-to-bumper traffic at 3 a.m. (let's give a big hand to the big dig for making it next to impossible to get to 93 north!) and a thunderstorm, we arrived in beverly safe, sound and exhausted. but because at that point we were so tired we were wired, sleep didn't occur until around 5 ... so while i woke up at 10:30 and immediately cursed myself for sleeping in too late, i quickly realized i'd only slept for five and a half hours.

after preparing for the day and thanking my grandmother and uncle for letting up crash at their house, beth and i headed to downtown beverly to meet up for lunch with andrew, a friend of mine from high school now living in the area. i hadn't seen him for about three years, so it was a fun trip down memory lane, laughing over names and faces we hadn't thought about in years and catching up on what we've all been up to. good times ...

following that, i introduced beth to richardson's dairy, my favorite ice cream place growing up, before heading back to vermont, making a quick driveby down central street in middleton to show her the first house i ever lived in. i hadn't seen the street in years - it's amazing how it looked the same yet so incredibly different ... while i have my memories of living there, it felt like a sort of twilight zone form of reality, actually seeing the house, seeing the house across the street where my friend meghan used to live painted a completely different color, seeing flowers where there was simply grass before, my red house now gray with white trim, the small bushes my parents planted now large and plush ... then realizing i haven't lived there for, what, almost eighteen years?

aaaah - and now i sit here, reflecting on the past two days, the memories birthed during the past 48 hours and the memories dug up from the past, looking at a small pile of mementos - a concert ticket, a flyer, a bumper sticker, averi's first EP (finally bought myself a copy - about time, right?) and a random cd by a female singer/songwriter they were handing out at the show. a smile on my face while "flutter" dances in my head and my bed begins to beckon to me, offering to sweep me away to the land of dreams ...

but, before i answer the call of my bed, this week's friday five, only a little late ...

1. when was the last time you cheated?
cheated at what? a game? a test? or just overall? probably a couple of days ago, when i skipped the last part of my kickboxing routine because i was tired.

2. when was the last time you stole?
i stole my brother's green day album a couple of weeks ago - he never listens to it anyway and i think it's classic. :-)

3. when was the last time you lied?
this evening, when i tried to come off like there was no twitterpation this weekend. "no, it was just good to see them - i'm not THAT silly." they called my bluff. damn my lack of ability to keep the s.k. expression off my face (of which i was reminded many, many times last night by elizabeth and michelle).

4. when was the last time you broke or vandalized another's property?
hmm ... does my brother's hair count? if so, i accidentally vandalized it a couple of weeks ago when i was trying to shave the non-mohawked parts of his hair and wound up taking off a chunk of one of his spikes ...

5. when was the last time you hurt a loved one?
last week, getting into a foolish little fight with my parents.

the whirlwind road trip adventure begins tomorrow! i'm psyched - the next few days should be great ... tomorrow afternoon, beth and i are heading to boston for averi, followed by a return to vermont saturday. perhaps a mini-roadtrip on sunday, followed by the just-offered opportunity to go back to boston on monday for the red sox/tigers game at fenway with my father and a couple of his coworkers ... whoo hoo!!!