I saw this tour advertised in the Guardian Guide, a couple of months ago. Damn, I thought, that means it'll be sold out by now. I was reading it on a Saturday afternoon. I'd heard the album was great, but haven't been spending much money on music in recent times, due to the hard times.
My next nightshift at work, my mind, as it often will, turned to thoughts of escape. I looked at the Dome's website, all tickets sold out, except for a couple of restricted view seats, not together. It was important my wife and I went together. I checked ebay. Two tickets going, centre circle, right in the middle, three rows from the front, £25 for two, being sold because they had been bought as a gift, but whoever was selling was double booked that night. Hope they had a good time.
I clicked to watch item, expecting prices to go through the roof. Thankfully, this was still about a month before the gig, the buzz hadn't got out to ebay yet, I was the only bidder. £12.50 each, just like the olden days.
The week of the gig came. My wife and I had a blazing argument, about the hard times. Reconciled, but still wounded, we discussed selling the tickets. They were now going for at least £50 on ebay. I started the listing, but, sagely, we changed our minds, and downloaded "The Harrow and the Harvest" (now I really wish we'd bought the CD - look at this video, great to see real artists taking pride in their art:)
But this was Monday night, and the gig was on Saturday. Postage would take too long to get properly acquainted. So I checked tunechecker. As usual, tunetribe was cheapest. The album was with me straight away. I wanted to listen to it as we went to sleep, but we couldn't find the requisite cable (modern life is rubbish), so we went to bed, feeling drained, confused, and defeated.
Then I was back at work, the earliest of early morning trains, leaving the house in the cold and dark, reading "The Heart Is A Lonely Hunter", listening to the album. Perfect start to the day, quiet, intimate, I felt like I was in on some wonderful secret, that only, me, Gillian, Dave, and Carson and Mr Stringer knew about.
Wednesday and Thursday, I listened to the album once each way there and back on the trains. By Friday, I had songs stuck in my head, and needed to hear them singly, taking a walk round PC World in my break, with my headphones on, "no, I'm just looking, thanks". Don't interrupt. 'Down Along The Dixie Line', often, but most of all 'Hard Times'. Friday morning, I listened to the album twice on the train to work, starting it again as soon as it had finished, and once more on the journey back. The trains were screwed, but my shift was over, my wife and boys came to pick me up from a neighbouring station. I was healed.
The night of the gig, the house was just about tidied for the babysitter, I rushed through (half a) chapter of snozzcumbers, Bloodbottlers, and whizzpoppers, and we dashed out the door. The tickets were dropped on the floor, the dog escaped, the babysitter dashed out to tell us, she got locked out, we had to let her back in, and we missed our train. Which turned out to be a bus replacement service anyway, (or should that be train replacement service?), so we hopped in the car, and followed that bus.
We were 20 minutes late, the gig having started promptly at 8 o'clock, and arrived at the end of 'Scarlet Town', taking our places during the applause, so it looked like just one row was giving a (fully deserved) standing ovation. The tickets were dead central, I really hope those ebayers were having a good evening elsewhere. Amid an aroma of Habit Rouge and some of that real sticky-icky, we took our seats.
"This one's a real bummer..." drawled Gillian, to much laughter, loping into "The Way It Will Be", singing in unison with Dave, at such a perfectly slow tempo, I slipped into a meditative trance, seeing things in the purple and red lit dry ice, auras around the performers. Bloody hell, I said to my wife at the end of it, and squeezed her hand. 'Down Along The Dixie Line' was next, thank God we hadn't missed it, and we were blown away. Dave's solos were impossibly brilliant, we were in the presence of a true master, jazz-like improvisation in that country style, proof that only hard work, dedication and practice can get you the kind of life where you get to stand on stage every night and sing beautiful harmonies with Gillian Welch, while the audience drools over your guitar playing. Bloody hell, I said again.
The capos were being moved up to the eighth fret, which could mean only one thing: 'Elvis Presley Blues'. The cheers went up, Gillian announced "The amazing this is we ain't tired of playing this song yet!", and they launched into a sublime version. When Dave entered with his harmonies on "I was thinking that night about Elvis" for the third verse, he gave his guitar one long strum, and let it ring out, and rapped a few times hard on its body, he was into it so much, and so was I.
'Time (The Revelator)' followed, and Dave's solo was sublime, sounding like a drunkard in parts, a madman in others, sticking on one note for ages, working out the miniscule difference between the fourth fret on his G string and his open B string.
Gillian promised she would be chattier in the second half, though she had been plenty chatty already, I thought. Then the interval, and we clambered out again, looking longingly at others' chocolate ice creams and pints of beer and cider. My wife offered me her last mint, and we shared it. A great cross-section of ages, young student sorts, middle-aged hipsters, and those approaching advanced age, and then also whatever age I am (secretly I am 12).
We went back inside, waiting to see if the spell could be unbroken. Gillian had her banjo on. It was 'Hard Times'. Predictably, I wept, resting my head on my wife's shoulder. This is the song that made me realise that whatever happens to us, whatever this government throws at us, however bad the media tries to make us feel, I'm not going to lose sight of the important things in life, I'm not going to give in. "Hard times ain't gonna rule my mind, anymore".
During this song, it occurred to me that Gillian was actually also telling me to get out there and get on with my music career, so I will.
A beautiful 'Tennessee' followed, I could only laugh at the end at how good it was, and then the unexpected delight of 'Six White Horses', Gillian announcing that "Even though this was a very serious show, sometimes we like to have some fun. (LAUGHTER) This was the result of a late, late night in the studio".
Cue Dave on banjo, Gillian harmonising with him while tapping out and clapping a complex rhythm on her legs, before hitching up her skirt, and dancing a slow circle, tap-dancing in her cowboy boots, stomping. It was absolutely beautiful to watch, she was just like a little girl performing in front of her family after Christmas dinner.
"Now that we've gotten to know each other a little better...", she said afterwards, to more laughter, introducing a Dave solo effort. Dave started off playing, and then decided he wanted to switch guitars, giving Gillian his famous Epiphone Olympic, which Gillian strummed a few times and then said "See, this is what it sounds like when someone other than Dave plays Dave's guitar...". They launched into what seemed to be an instrumental number, which lasted all of one minute, before breaking down into laughter, switching back guitars, and Dave changing capo positions a few times, as if undecided on what to play, Gillian struggling to keep up with his capo changes, and then finally settling on the beautiful 'Sweet Tooth', which, having now read the lyrics, I still don't fully understand, but would like to get better acquainted with. Indeed, the girl sitting next to us insisted we seek out his solo records.
'Silver Dagger' was played, and then began a series of encores, starting with Bob Dylan's 'Billy', Dave announcing afterwards, "Just in case the bodycount wasn't high enough in this show, here's some more killin' for ya", in reference to Sam Peckinpah and "Pat Garrett & Billy the Kid", where the song is from, before going into another moody song I didn't recognise. Another encore, 'No One Knows My Name', and a wonderful stomping singalong to 'Fly Away', Dave making us singing all "one more time" three more times, it was a wonderful communal atmosphere, and I just wished we were up standing, able to dance around.
Then the final encore, and Gillian said "They told us y'all have trains and buses to catch, so if you gotta go, you know, head on out into the night, and we'll play you out", before starting a staggeringly sedate and gorgeous 'The Way The Whole Thing Ends'. This was followed by the very last song, Jefferson Airplane's 'White Rabbit'. Incredibly intense, atmospheric, and different to anything they had played all night, Dave's guitar and Gillian's voice were reverbed, and it was wonderful. I thought they were singing "Free your head!" at the end, and that's what I intend to do.
The only thing that would have made it perfect would have been "I Wanna Sing That Rock And Roll". My wife and I have been practising that one together. Little gives me more pleasure than singing in harmony, and when I hit those notes with my wife, it's the greatest feeling in the world. Who knows, maybe we missed it at the beginning. As they said in that Making of the album cover video, it's the imperfections that make it perfect.
We'll just have to go see them again.
If you need some healing in your life, do buy "The Harrow & The Harvest" (on CD), and do try to check them out on tour before they disappear back to Dixie. And thanks guys, that was amazing!
My next nightshift at work, my mind, as it often will, turned to thoughts of escape. I looked at the Dome's website, all tickets sold out, except for a couple of restricted view seats, not together. It was important my wife and I went together. I checked ebay. Two tickets going, centre circle, right in the middle, three rows from the front, £25 for two, being sold because they had been bought as a gift, but whoever was selling was double booked that night. Hope they had a good time.
I clicked to watch item, expecting prices to go through the roof. Thankfully, this was still about a month before the gig, the buzz hadn't got out to ebay yet, I was the only bidder. £12.50 each, just like the olden days.
The week of the gig came. My wife and I had a blazing argument, about the hard times. Reconciled, but still wounded, we discussed selling the tickets. They were now going for at least £50 on ebay. I started the listing, but, sagely, we changed our minds, and downloaded "The Harrow and the Harvest" (now I really wish we'd bought the CD - look at this video, great to see real artists taking pride in their art:)
But this was Monday night, and the gig was on Saturday. Postage would take too long to get properly acquainted. So I checked tunechecker. As usual, tunetribe was cheapest. The album was with me straight away. I wanted to listen to it as we went to sleep, but we couldn't find the requisite cable (modern life is rubbish), so we went to bed, feeling drained, confused, and defeated.
Then I was back at work, the earliest of early morning trains, leaving the house in the cold and dark, reading "The Heart Is A Lonely Hunter", listening to the album. Perfect start to the day, quiet, intimate, I felt like I was in on some wonderful secret, that only, me, Gillian, Dave, and Carson and Mr Stringer knew about.
Wednesday and Thursday, I listened to the album once each way there and back on the trains. By Friday, I had songs stuck in my head, and needed to hear them singly, taking a walk round PC World in my break, with my headphones on, "no, I'm just looking, thanks". Don't interrupt. 'Down Along The Dixie Line', often, but most of all 'Hard Times'. Friday morning, I listened to the album twice on the train to work, starting it again as soon as it had finished, and once more on the journey back. The trains were screwed, but my shift was over, my wife and boys came to pick me up from a neighbouring station. I was healed.
The night of the gig, the house was just about tidied for the babysitter, I rushed through (half a) chapter of snozzcumbers, Bloodbottlers, and whizzpoppers, and we dashed out the door. The tickets were dropped on the floor, the dog escaped, the babysitter dashed out to tell us, she got locked out, we had to let her back in, and we missed our train. Which turned out to be a bus replacement service anyway, (or should that be train replacement service?), so we hopped in the car, and followed that bus.
We were 20 minutes late, the gig having started promptly at 8 o'clock, and arrived at the end of 'Scarlet Town', taking our places during the applause, so it looked like just one row was giving a (fully deserved) standing ovation. The tickets were dead central, I really hope those ebayers were having a good evening elsewhere. Amid an aroma of Habit Rouge and some of that real sticky-icky, we took our seats.
"This one's a real bummer..." drawled Gillian, to much laughter, loping into "The Way It Will Be", singing in unison with Dave, at such a perfectly slow tempo, I slipped into a meditative trance, seeing things in the purple and red lit dry ice, auras around the performers. Bloody hell, I said to my wife at the end of it, and squeezed her hand. 'Down Along The Dixie Line' was next, thank God we hadn't missed it, and we were blown away. Dave's solos were impossibly brilliant, we were in the presence of a true master, jazz-like improvisation in that country style, proof that only hard work, dedication and practice can get you the kind of life where you get to stand on stage every night and sing beautiful harmonies with Gillian Welch, while the audience drools over your guitar playing. Bloody hell, I said again.
The capos were being moved up to the eighth fret, which could mean only one thing: 'Elvis Presley Blues'. The cheers went up, Gillian announced "The amazing this is we ain't tired of playing this song yet!", and they launched into a sublime version. When Dave entered with his harmonies on "I was thinking that night about Elvis" for the third verse, he gave his guitar one long strum, and let it ring out, and rapped a few times hard on its body, he was into it so much, and so was I.
'Time (The Revelator)' followed, and Dave's solo was sublime, sounding like a drunkard in parts, a madman in others, sticking on one note for ages, working out the miniscule difference between the fourth fret on his G string and his open B string.
Gillian promised she would be chattier in the second half, though she had been plenty chatty already, I thought. Then the interval, and we clambered out again, looking longingly at others' chocolate ice creams and pints of beer and cider. My wife offered me her last mint, and we shared it. A great cross-section of ages, young student sorts, middle-aged hipsters, and those approaching advanced age, and then also whatever age I am (secretly I am 12).
We went back inside, waiting to see if the spell could be unbroken. Gillian had her banjo on. It was 'Hard Times'. Predictably, I wept, resting my head on my wife's shoulder. This is the song that made me realise that whatever happens to us, whatever this government throws at us, however bad the media tries to make us feel, I'm not going to lose sight of the important things in life, I'm not going to give in. "Hard times ain't gonna rule my mind, anymore".
During this song, it occurred to me that Gillian was actually also telling me to get out there and get on with my music career, so I will.
A beautiful 'Tennessee' followed, I could only laugh at the end at how good it was, and then the unexpected delight of 'Six White Horses', Gillian announcing that "Even though this was a very serious show, sometimes we like to have some fun. (LAUGHTER) This was the result of a late, late night in the studio".
Cue Dave on banjo, Gillian harmonising with him while tapping out and clapping a complex rhythm on her legs, before hitching up her skirt, and dancing a slow circle, tap-dancing in her cowboy boots, stomping. It was absolutely beautiful to watch, she was just like a little girl performing in front of her family after Christmas dinner.
"Now that we've gotten to know each other a little better...", she said afterwards, to more laughter, introducing a Dave solo effort. Dave started off playing, and then decided he wanted to switch guitars, giving Gillian his famous Epiphone Olympic, which Gillian strummed a few times and then said "See, this is what it sounds like when someone other than Dave plays Dave's guitar...". They launched into what seemed to be an instrumental number, which lasted all of one minute, before breaking down into laughter, switching back guitars, and Dave changing capo positions a few times, as if undecided on what to play, Gillian struggling to keep up with his capo changes, and then finally settling on the beautiful 'Sweet Tooth', which, having now read the lyrics, I still don't fully understand, but would like to get better acquainted with. Indeed, the girl sitting next to us insisted we seek out his solo records.
'Silver Dagger' was played, and then began a series of encores, starting with Bob Dylan's 'Billy', Dave announcing afterwards, "Just in case the bodycount wasn't high enough in this show, here's some more killin' for ya", in reference to Sam Peckinpah and "Pat Garrett & Billy the Kid", where the song is from, before going into another moody song I didn't recognise. Another encore, 'No One Knows My Name', and a wonderful stomping singalong to 'Fly Away', Dave making us singing all "one more time" three more times, it was a wonderful communal atmosphere, and I just wished we were up standing, able to dance around.
Then the final encore, and Gillian said "They told us y'all have trains and buses to catch, so if you gotta go, you know, head on out into the night, and we'll play you out", before starting a staggeringly sedate and gorgeous 'The Way The Whole Thing Ends'. This was followed by the very last song, Jefferson Airplane's 'White Rabbit'. Incredibly intense, atmospheric, and different to anything they had played all night, Dave's guitar and Gillian's voice were reverbed, and it was wonderful. I thought they were singing "Free your head!" at the end, and that's what I intend to do.
The only thing that would have made it perfect would have been "I Wanna Sing That Rock And Roll". My wife and I have been practising that one together. Little gives me more pleasure than singing in harmony, and when I hit those notes with my wife, it's the greatest feeling in the world. Who knows, maybe we missed it at the beginning. As they said in that Making of the album cover video, it's the imperfections that make it perfect.
We'll just have to go see them again.
If you need some healing in your life, do buy "The Harrow & The Harvest" (on CD), and do try to check them out on tour before they disappear back to Dixie. And thanks guys, that was amazing!
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