Bruce Springsteen, Western Stars, 2019

Strings Attached

By Vera Hough

Others have noted the strings.

It's the main, the most noticeable, the most substantive departure on Bruce Springsteen's new and highly anticipated album, Western Stars. You'll be listening to, say, "Chasin' Wild Horses" or "Sundown," and just as you're thinking, "Well, this is just a Bruce Springsteen^TM song," the strings come in. With them, they bring the Bacharach, the Campbell, the Webb. And they soar.

It's not that we haven't heard soaring from him before. Big Man's saxophone could soar. But that was the sound of a heart soaring into dreams of escape as its body struggled on the ground. This is more like a hawk making lazy circles in the sky.

Because it's the spaciousness, isn't it, that fascinates Easterners when they fall in love with the West? Of course it's not just one thing. If it were one thing, though, it would be the wide open space -- the size. When the soaring strings come in, something happens to the song we thought we knew, the one we thought we had heard before. As Tess Gallagher says, "Then something else happens. The song gets large."

I spent a few days on my own in Big Sur last fall, and as I drove the PCH I did my usual homespun cognitive behavioral therapy.

"What's wrong, honey?" I asked myself (I'm trying to be nicer to myself). "What are you so anxious about? We're past the part where you might drive off the cliff."

"It's the parking," my anxious self said. "When I get to the inn, where will I park?" (a perennial fear).

*Laughter* "Wherever you want! This is California, there's all kinds of room!" (Angelenos, don't @ me).

I noted the others, noting the strings, because I'm a little nervous about my qualifications to review a Bruce Springsteen album. I have some of my bona fides: the first Christmas present I ever gave my father was the Born To Run LP. I got really pissed once when I was running the Spring Lake Five and someone cut "Rosalita" off in the middle of the track to play "Eye of the Tiger" on their front-yard speakers instead. "Glory Days" makes me cry.

I'm not a completist, though -- I only own a handful of albums -- and I'm the farthest thing from an expert. I have one real qualification. Like the Springsteens, my family goes way back in Monmouth County. As my mother recently mused, "Who am I, after all these generations of people, to decide to go somewhere else?" Baked into that line is the acknowledgement that there is a real temptation to go somewhere else. We rooted New Jerseyans get what's cool about California.

I realized: I don't have to be a reviewer. I'm just a fellow traveler, a sort of very distant cousin who might just think the same way about things that Bruce Springsteen does. That's how everyone feels, of course, that's his secret. It's how people felt about Woody Guthrie, how they feel about Bob Dylan (if they could actually figure out what he thinks about anything), how they should feel about Jimmy Webb if they were paying attention. (I "discovered" Jimmy Webb singing his own stuff about ten years ago, so I feel extra-proprietary about him).

Speaking of Bob Dylan, there's some genuine poetry on this album -- especially in "Stones" and "Moonlight Motel." Squinting at my phone mid-run on my first listen to the album, I thought "Stones" was called "Stories," and it easily could be, since it's about telling lies. I predict that Bruce Springsteen wins a Nobel Prize some time in the next ten years, and I further predict that a lot of people will be real jerks about it. There are some great story songs, too, like "Drive Fast (The Stuntman)" and the title track. There are some nice freight train rhythms to the guitar that opens "The Wayfarer" and of course "Tucson Train."

Then the strings always come in. They soar, and they open our cramped eastern minds up to the space they crave: the desert, the mountains, the big sky, and the Pacific, which somehow manages always to look bigger than the Atlantic, even when you're only looking at a little piece of it.

So this is Bruce doing what he always does: taking a little piece of America and saying big things. Only this time he's drawing a bow across it: tremolo, legato and all.

The Monkees, Good Times!, 2016

I Was There, and I'm Almost Sure I Had a Good Time

by Vera Hough

My daughter is going to college in four weeks, and we are spending a lot of time together. For one thing, there’s a lot of shopping to do. The other day, on the way to buy dance tights, we were playing WBJB (having finally become slightly, slightly tired of Hamilton) and a song caught our attention. “Me and….Magdalena…” the excruciatingly slow crawl of the RDS told us, “...The…Monkees.”

“The actual Monkees?” I asked in wonder and excitement, but the radio could not answer.

I kind of imprinted on the Monkees. In fact, I’m pretty sure when I really discovered the Beatles around fourth grade, sitting on the floor of the den poring over the album covers of Sgt Pepper and Magical Mystery Tour, I gave my father indigestion by saying, “The Beatles are kind of like The Monkees!” It’s backwards, but it wasn’t entirely my fault. WPIX was broadcasting many, many Monkees episodes on weekday afternoons in the early 70s -- which is when I was at my Grammie’s house a lot, watching the big cabinet TV in her pristine living room. I was so little when I watched those shows that I don’t remember much about them, except that Mickey Dolenz was my favorite.

When I was in high school, MTV gave the Monkees (minus Michael Nesmith, see below) a new lease on life.

Five years ago, I almost literally stumbled upon a Davy Jones concert at Epcot. I found it unexpectedly moving, and hundreds of women about ten years older than me were finding it expectedly moving:

Jones died less than a year later, and by then I expected to be moved. (Monkees+Brady Bunch)/nostalgia=tears.

Now, I learn, in recognition of their 50th anniversary, Rhino records has released Good Times!, produced by Adam Schlesinger of Fountains of Wayne. Good Times! features a mix of unreleased songs and new ones created by contemporary Monkees-adjacent artists.  It’s a good summer record, fun to spin in the car, and even offers some food for thought. Oh, and the CD comes with stickers!

The title song, and the opening cut, is a Harry Nilsson song out of the vault and features a Natalie / Nat King Cole-style (or Justin Timberlake / Michael Jackson-style) “duet” between Nilsson’s demo vocals and a new Mickey Dolenz track. It has a fun, frug-y vibe and an irresistible beat.

Schlesinger contributed “Our Own World,” a seamless Monkees / Fountains hybrid; and “I Was There (And I’m Told I Had a Good Time),” maybe the most psychedelic song and, as the last song on the CD, a fitting commentary on the project.

After we’d listened to the whole album (which isn’t very long) quite a few times, I mused, “I think this is my favorite. It’s track 11, ‘Wasn’t Born to Follow.’ Can you look at the liner notes and see who wrote it?”

“Carole King.”

Of course. Of course my favorite is a Carole King / Gerry Goffin number. And it turns out not only did The Byrds record it in 1967, but it’s also been covered by Dusty Springfield, The Sadies, and Tracy Grammer. How did I miss this? Well, now I know.

My daughter’s favorites are the aforementioned “Me and Magdalena,” penned by Ben Gibbard and sung by Mike Nesmith, and “I Know What I Know,” Nesmith-written and sung. One is always learning new things about one’s children, and now I know that my daughter is the kind of girl who likes Wool Hat best. We can still be friends, I guess. It’s been 30 years since the whole “My mother invented Liquid Paper so I don’t have to be in on the Monkees reunion” thing. And he did write “Different Drum.”

The song I expected to like the best was “You Bring The Summer,” written by Andy Partridge of XTC; and I shouldn’t really be disappointed, because it’s very Andy Partridge, but it just feels a little phoned-in. “She Makes Me Laugh,” contributed by Rivers Cuomo of Weezer, is fun, but my favorite thing about it is what I learned from Rolling Stone: that Dolenz thought the lyrics were a little too young-sounding so Cuomo added in a canoe trip and a Scrabble game.

I don’t know about you, but I find myself continually surprised by the fact that the 90s are now subject to nostalgia. I was trying to explain this to my daughter -- again in the car -- and the best explanation I could come up with is that I view all music from 1994 up to the present time as a single category of “popular music from my adulthood.” Also, I don’t remember there being a lot of “70s Nights” when I was in college. Some, but not a lot.

Anyway, it’s interesting to trace a line from the Monkees and their Brill Building underpinnings to the power pop of Fountains of Wayne, Death Cab for Cutie, and Weezer. I’ll leave it to the CoolDad readership to trace the line forward from there. I recommend Good Times!: it brings the summer.

On Prince, Coolness, Dads, and Music

I was dreaming when I wrote this, forgive me if it goes astray…

by MomVee

I really loved Prince. He gave the world every kind of song. Who hasn’t quoted “Manic Monday?" When you’re sad, you can play “Raspberry Beret” or “Starfish and Coffee” and instantly feel better. We didn’t know how much we needed a song that started “Dearly Beloved…” until “Let’s Go Crazy” came out. We didn’t realize we needed a party anthem for the (almost) turn of the millennium. Or how much we would love to hear Sinead O’Connor sing “Nothing Compares 2 U” and Tom Jones cover “Kiss.” What is more danceable than “Delirious?" If you want to remember what it was like to be a teenager in a car, just cue up “Little Red Corvette.” Sexiest song ever? For my money, it’s “Slow Love.” And my husband can tell you “Purple Rain” is a solid karaoke pick.

Prince also gave the world a special kind of art. Like all the greatest entertainers, he used both artifice and vulnerability to connect to the world. On the one hand, he was constantly changing his look, reveling in externals; on the other, he was putting himself out there, speaking truth to power and shrugging at ridicule. He also defended his art. And while I was irritated yesterday at the difficulty of finding something online to share with my social media followers, I then remembered: this isn’t my expression, it’s Prince’s. It was okay for him to control it.

My father took me to see Purple Rain at the Red Bank theater the first weekend it was out, maybe the first night. Some parts were mortifying for a father and daughter to watch together, and that’s usually the context in which I tell this story. It’s more important than that, though. My father took my cultural education seriously, and that meant not just taking me to the Metropolitan Museum and American Ballet Theater, not just watching for Casablanca to come on TV, and making me read The Great Gatsby. It didn’t even mean just leaving the Beatles and Bob Dylan albums within easy reach.

My dad was always looking for the next thing -- sometimes one step behind me, sometimes one step ahead -- and sharing it with me. He was very sure about Prince’s genius. Prince had been on the scene for five years when Purple Rain came out, and firmly on the radar for two years thanks to “1999” and “Little Red Corvette” (one of the videos in early MTV rotation); but Purple Rain was when he really burst onto the scene.

My dad and I loved Prince’s music and his no-holds-barred persona so much that we bought into his whole brand and co-owned not only the Purple Rain LP but also Ice Cream Castle by The Time and later, Wendy and Lisa.

Once I missed the Grammy awards because I had play practice. The internet is failing me on identifying the exact year; but I remember when my father came to pick me up, he filled me and the rest of the carpool in on what Prince was wearing (a burnoose) and what he said (lost in the mists of time, but it was outrageous and charming).

I didn’t realize at the time how unusual -- how cool, as it were -- it was for a father to embrace an overtly sexy and androgynous pop artist and share that enthusiasm with his daughter. We didn’t have a minivan (he was an early music adopter but not an automotive one) but it was definitely what CoolDad calls minivan music, and CoolDad brings a similar openness to his listening -- sometimes one step ahead of his girls, sometimes one step behind.

Prince went a step ahead of us into the afterworld. In this life, we’re on our own. Let’s be cool to each other and keep looking for the next genius.

Full-Time CoolDad

3/5ths of our 2009 Jersey Shore Relay Team: MomVee, CoolAunt, CoolMom

A Long Time Coming

CoolMom and I used to do the Jersey Shore Relay every year with a group of friends. It's a marathon relay from Seaside Heights to Asbury Park, and you split the running among four or five people. My dear friend MomVee and I were standing on the boardwalk in Point Pleasant waiting for one of our teammates to come in; and I told her that my dream was, one day, to leave my corporate job and to just be a stay at home dad. I think that was 2009. That feels like the first time I ever voiced that to someone outside CoolMom and me so matter-of-factly and not in the heat of some work stress or something. There was no CoolDad Music at that point.

Since then, my desire to leave Corporate America has become an incessant refrain from me for anyone willing to listen (or just stuck with no way out, I suppose). CoolDad Music has taken over as my main source of professional (if not financial) fulfillment. Yesterday, I made my dream a reality and put in my two-weeks' notice with no back-up plan other than being a dad, running CoolDad Music, and getting myself back on track health-wise (maybe even race-ready). CoolMom is (unsurprisingly) extremely supportive of the decision, and I couldn't be happier. We've planned and laid the groundwork for this for years, and I realize how lucky I am.

I won't screw this up. I won't squander this opportunity.

I will now be a full-time:

Dad
Husband
Music Blogger / Self-Styled Journalist / Photographer

I hope that means that I can grow CoolDad Music into something "more" ... Whatever that might be. Expand coverage somehow? Go beyond Asbury? Maybe to Brooklyn? Philly? The world? I'm not sure. However it looks, CoolDad Music will always retain its personal focus; and the site will never become just an aggregator for news and info that you can find repeated at all of the big music sites.

This will be an adventure, for sure. It's scary, because it's new. It's scary because I haven't not worked for someone since I've been about 13 or 14 years old. But it also isn't scary because we're a great team here at CDMHQ. We've all got our leg of the relay to run, and we all cheer each other on the whole way.

Stay tuned.

Guest List: MomVee's Top 15 Musical Experiences of 2013

Final Year-End Guest List (Probably)

Have I mentioned that I've known MomVee since kindergarten? Honestly, outside of my immediate family, she's probably the person I've known the longest with whom I actually keep in touch. Whenever I stop to think about that, I just find it so cool.

Anyway, I had to ask her for a list, and -- lucky for us -- she agreed to give us one. A lover of tradition and holidays, MomVee made a seasonally appropriate list that I saved for today. Her tastes are very different from mine in a lot of ways, which is why these guest lists have been so great.

That brings me to one final point about the lists here at CoolDad Music. These aren't awards. I've tried to use "Favorite" or "My Top" every time -- if I ever used "Best," then it was a slip -- to convey the idea that these are the things that moved me or a particular person this year. Don't worry too much about what doesn't make one list or another. Nobody can or wants to see or hear every possible thing. Instead, go investigate some of the things you've never heard or that fall outside of your comfort zone. You may find something you love.

And in 12, 11, 10, 9, 8, 7, 6...

My Top 15 Musical Experiences of 2013, in the style of "The Twelve Days of Christmas"

by MomVee

Five Gold Rings: (Albums Of Note): 

I Will Never Be Alone in This Land -- Alex McMurray

I know Alex McMurray personally, but even if I didn't this would be one of my favorite albums of the year, arguably the favorite. Alex has lyrical genius; he can write a hummable tune; and his music is fun. In this album he really came into his own, and you'll hear word and music magic akin to that of Tom Waits, Randy Newman, and John Hiatt, often with a nice funky NOLA flavor á la Dr. John. Standouts: the title track, "Diamonds In Your Hand," "As Long as You Let Me."

The Stand-In -- Caitlin Rose

Caitlin Rose's second LP doesn't have a single-song-repeat ballad as seductive as "Own Side," from her debut; but it does boast 12 solid cuts, some of which rock quite a bit and all of which twang. It's full of pedal steel sound, which regular readers know is the way to my heart. My favorite is "Golden Boy," which boasts the lovely lyric "I'm reaching up if you're still reaching down."

The Lion's Roar -- First Aid Kit

Just in case you think my selections lack diversity, here's an album by Swedish folk duo First Aid Kit...oh, oops. Here's the chorus of my favorite song, "Emmylou" -- "I'll be your Emmylou and I'll be your June / If you'll be my Gram and my Johnny too..." Guess my mother really imprinted me when we listened to WHN on the way to the beach. Not every song on the album has that much country flavor, but they are all good, especially the title cut.

Sing Me The Songs -- Various Artists

The older I get, the more I realize how much influence my parents had on my musical taste. In addition to that early influx of pedal steel via my mother, I heard a lot of Linda Ronstadt and Maria Muldaur spun by my dad. Not only is Caitlin Rose their direct musical descendant, but Ronstadt's version of "Heart Like A Wheel" led my father to the McGarrigle sisters. Sing Me The Songs is a double album recording of the concert tribute to Kate McGarrigle, who died in January 2010. I saw the documentary at Film Forum in August, and I highly recommend it. Standout numbers are "Saratoga Summer Song" by Teddy Thompson (only ever demo'd by Kate and gorgeous), "I Cried For Us" by Rufus Wainwright and Antony, "I Don't Know" by Krystle Warren, and "Proserpina," which starts with a rough recording found on Kate's laptop and ends up with the whole familiy singing. I could easily pick a dozen more.

Out Of The Game -- Rufus Wainwright

Related, Rufus Wainwright is the princely offspring of Kate McGarrigle and fellow folk royal Loudon Wainwright III. Sadly, I fear Rufus can never again approach the greatness of his 2003 album Want One, but this one comes pretty close. The title track is a lot of fun, and the closer, "Candles," is a beautiful tribute to his mother.

Four Calling Birds (Pop Hits Worth Commenting On):

"Cups" -- Anna Kendrick

So, as an a cappella veteran I loved Pitch Perfect but I was a little puzzled at the appearance of "Cups" as a hit single so long after the movie came out. And I'm not the only one. I heard a radio interview with Anna Kendrick in which she expressed surprise -- and a little guilt, I think unfeigned -- at the success of this one-off recorded by a singing actress, not a dues-paying pop star. I have a theory, though. I think the popularity of "Cups" expresses the country's yearning for roots music -- it's a very singable melody and lyric with an obvious mountain music origin, and I think it stands out from the overproduced robot music that crowds the airways. Either that, or it's the cup routine. Little girls love stuff like that.

"True Love" -- Pink

I should probably check out a couple of Pink albums, because I really like a lot of her singles. In the world of Christina Perri (who makes even happiness sound sad), Sara Bareilles (who makes anger sound happy, which is better but still a little off), and Katy Perry (whose persona I think Rob Delaney best encapsulated as "goofy slut") Pink is strikingly honest and oddly wholesome while still being very entertaining and transgressive. She had me at "At the same time, I wanna hug you / I wanna wrap my hands around your neck."

"Mirrors" -- Justin Timberlake

It's the kind of song that makes you wish you could dance, and wish you knew the lyrics so you could sing it better (at least the second part can be remedied). The video is outstanding, in the old tradition of videos encompassing both story and performance. Justin can dance, yo. News to no one but me.

 

"I Love It" -- Icona Pop

I guess this was the year of the Swedish female duo? The first time this came on my car radio I was convinced the Waitresses had a song I had never heard before. Sounded like the 80s to me. But it's new, and tailor-made for tween girls to sing in the back seat.

Three French Hens  (Live Music Events):

Shock Mommies Reunion at the Brighton Bar, West End

Originally scheduled for April, this long-awaited event finally took place in July. I had a complicated relationship with punk music and the New Jersey Hardcore scene in the 80s. That is to say, I enjoyed wearing all black and hanging out in Marine Park in Red Bank, and I had some close friends who brought me fewer than six degrees separate from the legendary greats. I even spent considerable time in a basement in Rumson listening to the rehearsals of a band variously called The Underachievers and Pigs In Space (PIS, get it?). In the end, though, I was an honors student and a drama geek who didn't get out much. So while I was familiar with the Shock Mommies -- their lineup, their shtick, their oeuvre -- and band member Gentleman Jim Norton is a friend to this day, I had *clears throat* never seen them perform before. I'd never been to the Brighton, in fact.

It was awesome. CoolDad's coverage here.

Glenn Tillbrook at The Wonder Bar

I know every word of every song on Squeeze: Singles 45's and Under, and Glenn Tillbrook very kindly sang nearly all of those songs in his gig in October. I had been warned that he didn't do very much Squeeze stuff, and I was fine with that, because I own and love his solo efforts The Incomparable Glenn Tillbrook and Pandemonium Ensues. He did not do my favorite cut from the latter, "Black Sheep," but did write an apology of sorts for that on my autographed CD of the evening's performance.

And CoolDad was there.

Wesley Stace at The Saint

My husband and I love Wesley Stace, but we kind of hate him, too. We want to be Cambridge-educated folk-rock singer/songwriters who are also novelists and variety show hosts. Until we manage that, though, we enjoy living vicariously through him and being entertained by him. We got the chance to chat him up afterwards, and he also turns out to be "supremely intelligent and utterly charming," as the New Yorker observed late in October (link no longer available). Of course.

You may be surprised to learn that CoolDad was present.

Two Turtle Doves (Musicals):

Frozen

Run, don't walk to the multiplex to see Disney's latest. The score isn't the strongest part -- that would be the story, which does for feminist princesses what Brave thought it was doing and totally wasn't. It does, though, feature several strong voices -- including the standout Idina Menzel on the intended-for-the-pop-charts showstopper "Let It Go" -- and a couple of other good tunes. I wasn't humming them as I walked out of the theater, but now my daughters and I can often be found singing "Do You Want to Build a Snowman?" and "Love Is An Open Door." My son is partial to the tribal-sounding choral number "Vuelie," which plays during the opening credits.

Big Fish

I picked this musical almost at random for a family trip to the city in November. My family was profoundly skeptical about every aspect of the weekend I had planned, and while NYC Marathon cheering probably wins as "most surprisingly enjoyable," I think they were all pleasantly surprised by Big Fish, too. Which is why I was surprised to learn that it will close at the end of this month. It's not the best musical I've ever seen, but it's head and shoulders above the Radio City Christmas Spectacular that I suffered through last year; and it's a family-appropriate stagecraft showcase that makes Mommy cry. Isn't that what Broadway is for?

A Partridge in a Pear Tree (One New-to-Me Artist):

Iris DeMent

New York Magazine published a list of 60 Great Albums You Probably Haven't Heard. I owned two of them (well, I did own one on cassette--grrr, cassettes) which seemed respectable. When I posted the link on Facebook more than one person mentioned Iris Dement as an obvious standout, so I checked her out on Spotify. I had definitely heard her version of "Our Town," and "Let The Mystery Be" rang a faint bell as well, but what I really fell in love with was her 2012 album Sing The Delta. "Go On Ahead and Go Home" is one of the most moving songs about death I've ever heard -- certainly the most moving song about death with a Fats-Waller style rolling bass -- and I played it a LOT for a few days. "The Night I Learned How Not To Pray" is also especially good. I look forward to diving deeper into her catalog.

Caitlin Rose Played The Mercury Lounge on April 1st -- FIRST-EVER GUEST POST!!!

And MomVee Stood The Whole Time

OK. This is exciting. My former kindergarten classmate, current Tuesday Night Trivia teammate, fellow blogger, and good, good friend, MomVee, has agreed to write a review of the Caitlin Rose show she attended at Mercury Lounge a few nights ago.

Check out her work over at Watering Place, and you'll quickly understand why I'm so thrilled to add her voice and her perspective to CoolDad Music, even if it's just this one time. I think adding the point of view of a coolmom is an important step for CoolDad Music; and, while we do overlap, MomVee's musical tastes differ enough from my own to bring some freshness to this space.

This is an excellent one-off, but I'll see what I can do about getting MomVee to pay us all a visit every once in a while. Until that happens, you can keep up with her through her blog and by following her on Twitter.

Caitlin Rose at the Mercury Lounge

By MomVee

I don't remember how I first came across this video of a little girl brilliantly covering Caitlin Rose's "Own Side."



Most likely someone linked it on Twitter, but it could also have been embedded deep in the "recommended posts" on Google Reader. You know, the ones you check out when you really, REALLY don't want to do anything productive. Anyway, thanks to Rowan, her parents, and the OP, I discovered Caitlin Rose a little over a year ago. iTunes reports that I have played "Own Side" 319 times, and that's just when I'm sitting at the iMac.

I really like her work. I really like Wilco's work, too, but I saw them at the Hammerstein Ballroom six years ago and as I staggered to Penn Station through back spasms I told my husband that I would never again attend another standing room show, as I was too old. R. thought it was about 14 years too early to make that claim, but I have managed to avoid standing concerts ever since. Until now. Caitlin Rose doesn't come to New York very often. She's a Nashville native and she's very big in the UK. So much so that's she's picked up Spencer Cullum, Jr.* a delectable British pedal steel player who looks like a cross between Harry Potter and Gary Louris of the Jayhawks...but I'm getting ahead of myself.

I was going to see Caitlin Rose in person even if I had to stand up to do it. So Monday night found me at the Mercury Lounge. As small venues go, the Mercury Lounge is pretty good: the main bar is in a separate room just as you come in, so you can grab your drink and then go into the performance space, where everyone is nicely focused on the performance--there's a tiny satellite bar in the corner but it's unobtrusive. There are even a few seats to either side of the room, but I eschewed them and stood with the young'uns. And they were young, whew! It was an early show--6:30 doors/opener, 7:30 main act--so I guess most of them had just woken up.

At this point a petty person would complain about her drink. I haven't gone out much in the past five years or so, and meanwhile I've been spoiled by my brother-in-law's fine wines and my husband's masterfully crafted cocktails. So I won't complain about my drink.

I was late because, despite my advanced age, I have not yet learned to accurately read a train timetable. However, the opener--Rose's guitarist Andrew Combs--had not yet gone on as of 7 pm, this being one of those nice times when the irresponsible circumstances of the young and the old bring them together. Combs is a looker, a capable guitarist and an above-average lyricist who could easily slide onto any episode of ABC's "Nashville." He did a few numbers strictly solo, a few joined by members of the band, and then it was time for Caitlin Rose.

She opened with the very catchy "No One to Call," the first cut on her new album, The Stand-In. I didn't keep a set list but looking at The Stand-In I'm pretty sure Rose performed more than half her new songs, including "Only A Clown," (she bravely declared her fondness for clowns against the current cultural phobia, and made clowns a thread throughout her between-song patter), "Waitin'," "Dallas," "Pink Champagne," "Silver Sings," and "Old Numbers." From her previous album, Own Side Now, Rose performed "Shanghai Cigarettes" and "Spare Me--Fetzer's Blues."

On about the second or third song, my companion leaned over and asked, "You've seen her before, or just heard her?" I knew instantly what she was talking about. Rose, obviously comfortable on stage and easy with the aforementioned patter (if very self-aware), is virtually expressionless while singing. Some emoting would bring her to a whole new level of performance, and it would help to get her intricate lyrics across. My friend, herself a veteran performer, had an interesting theory: Rose's voice is such a magnificent instrument that she doesn't have to make any of the "straining for the note" or "whoops I missed it" faces the rest of us make when we sing. It is fun to hear those effortless melodies, but it would help to add the human connection.

The set was a short 45 minutes (Rose mentioned that explicitly, along with the fact that early shows "give me the f&*#ing willies") and it ended on a heart-pounding high with new song "Menagerie" followed by a rollicking cover of the Buck Owens classic "Tiger By The Tail," which highlighted Andrew Combs once again.

I had been a little irritated with the two young women next to me, who spent the entire 45 minutes discussing their social lives and prospects for the evening, but all was forgiven when Rose declared the end of the set and the three of us called in wistful unison, "Own Side!" Confession: I had a very brief fantasy that Rose would say, "I'm really tired of singing that, but MomVee, why don't YOU take the mic..."

It was not to be. The lights went up, and I went around the corner to get some tapas and a decent glass of wine.

*Cullum and Rose's guitarist Jeremy Fetzer have a side project, Steelism, that I'll be checking out soon because I love pedal steel and cute Brits.