Decemberists in brooklyn

A big family event last night. The kids' first all ages rock show, inspired by Sag's love of The Decemberists.

When Cap and I went to see them at the Beacon Theater in Manhattan earlier this year, Sag was deeply disappointed to be left home. At the time, everything had happened so quickly. The kids and I fell fast in love with The King Is Dead while we streamed it on NPR right before the album was released. I googled concert dates and discovered they were kicking off their album release tour in NYC the following week. I searched for tix despite a 'sold out' note on the website and found great seats. Snagged some babysitting from my mom, rationalized the spending of cash with my birthday in mind, and boom, the concert came, was glorious, and went.

And I had one bummed out 9 year old to contend with.

I promised to take him when they came around again. They played a benefit show at the Prospect Park bandshell last night. Rain or shine, and it rained...pretty steadily for the first hour we were there, though it was never a downpour, thankfully.

Sag wanted to be up close (it was a general admission show with no seats...I did not realize when buying the tix that there were no seats) so we left Gem and Cap under the overhang of big old trees in the grassy area in back and wove through the crowd to a spot about ten human rows from the stage.

The crowd was amazing. The folks around us, in their 20s, 30s, 40s and 50s, were tickled to see a kid in their midst. Sag hung in there, at least a foot shorter than everyone else, in a mass of wet slickers and damp blue jeans. The band crew was clearly concerned about the continuing rain and waited as long as they could to start the set (we arrived to the bandshell as the opening act finished their last song and then proceeded to wait nearly an hour for The Decemberists to start...on our feet, all of us, in the rain...)

Just as Sag had had enough and decided to forego our sweet spot to return to Gem and Cap, a woman who had been standing behind him appeared with a chair for him. She was a goddess savior and changed our lives forever. Having a chair to sit on gave Sag the energy to wait out the tech crew. And when the show started about ten minutes later, he stood on the chair and had an unobstructed view of the concert (I cannot express in writing how intensely this kid absorbed the totality of his experience), and someone he truly finds interesting, the lead singer/band frontman, Colin Meloy.

I am still awestruck by the kind act of this stranger. I will never forget what she did and will be grateful, the rest of my days, for how she helped give Sag an incredible first experience seeing his favorite band (the fingers came out of his ears after a song or two when his system adjusted...ear plugs next time!)

The kids lasted about half the show. We departed after seven songs, satisfied, sleepy, and a bit cold and wet. We walked back to the F train through the streets of Park Slope (I understand the appeal, I really do), rode the subway back to my mom's, picked up our stuff, used her loo and gave her hugs, and then we drove back home.

The kids tumbled into bed and slept through the night, a rare thing for Sag, I gave Cap a long overdue haircut, he finished packing, and while the rest of us slept, Cap got into a cab sometime after 3am and took off from Newark at 6am for his annual research trip to Japan.

The kids and I will have a quietish day, but also some routine...Vinny this afternoon, common meal tonight (not at our house :-), the comic book store somewhere in between.  Now, off to break fast.



(from last night's show...)

Border towns

Nick's show, Border Towns was a fantastic mind bend and earful.  Anna calls it avant garde musical theater.  The show's description on the art space website reads:

"Border Towns explores how recordings have re-engineered the psychological landscape of the US, stitching together hundreds of recordings collected along the borders. Seven performers lipsync, sing, and move precisely with a dense map of strong fragments, ambient sounds, and border broadcasts. Along the way, musical Americana gets reconstructed into a surreal theatrical collage reflecting on recording, location, and culture."

My Cuban dinner beforehand was yummy.  A picadillo (beef hash) that contained raisins, olives and yucca.  The company, four friends from Wesleyan, one lovely significant other, and the composer/co-director, was warm and fuzzy with much "back-to-school" talk and mojito drinking (lime Jarritos for me :-)

 image pulled from web.