They say one secret to staying young is keep doing new things. As a touring solo musician that is built in—every gig in a place you’ve never been before requires navigating unknown territory, strategic maneuvers involving parking and sometimes even finding the right door. Your set might stay the same but the stage changes each night and the people do too, you have hundreds of encounters and meet dozens of new faces.
So in a period with not so many shows, things at home can get a little stagnant. I’m lucky to work at the bookstore/bar while I stay close to home trying to make new work. Handling the needs of the customers gives me energy, not quite the high of performing but it’s usually fun and gets me out of my own head.
Or sometimes it helps to go see someone else play. I surprised Eric with tickets to Magnetic Fields the other day. One of our vehicles had 69 Love Songs permanently lodged inside so I knew we’d both love it. Spotting Stephin Merritt when he lived in Hudson used to be like seeing a rainbow in reverse — he’d be suitably curmudgeonly and the day would just brighten. I’d seen him perform solo but the chance to hear those magnificent songs in 3D made my heart beat faster.
The main wild card was the venue: City Winery’s mysterious Hudson Valley location. We’ve played at some other CW’s: NYC, Chicago and Nashville. They’re great clubs but always in major cities. This place is hunkered down in New York’s rural Orange County, somewhere around Newburgh and Middletown. But see, this is the stuff that makes life fun. What would it be like? It was almost like setting off for a gig together, without the bother of having to rehearse and load the car with equipment.
The venue was tucked away in a refurbished old knitting factory outside the town of Montgomery. The parking lot was already packed with cars when we arrived - the show sold out. “What’s the demographic of a Magnetic Fields show do you think?” I asked Eric as we walked down a hill from the car to the venue, the sun setting next to a majestic brick smokestack.
The staff was super-nice, like all the City Wineries. The stage was set up in a large brick room, backed on to a wall of industrial sized windows. It reminded me a little of DIA Beacon, an art museum in an old cookie factory, but instead of massive pieces of art the room was filled with tables and chairs on the diagonal and a couple hundred people eating dinner and tasting wine flights. We ordered and then the hostess was seating a…couple of children at our table?
Golly and Aphrodite were their names. Golly looked about twelve and Aphrodite a little older. I’d wondered about the band’s demographic - firmly middle-aged. I’d say Eric and I were almost the oldest people in the place and our tablemates the youngest. They were delightful. We all shook hands like disparate friends of the bride and groom at a wedding who’d been seated a ways away from the action. I felt immediately like my mother used to act in these kind of public situations: overly nosy, overly share-y. “Where do you two live?” (they’d come up from Manhattan for the gig but were from Chicago and LA respectively) Had they ever seen the band before (the band’s touring heyday had been before both of these two were born so…no. They saw this as a rare chance to see a legend and there was no NYC show.) We told them how we’d met. They were so sweet and curious and open and made me glad we hadn’t had some dull couple engaged with their wine flight sitting next to us.
The show started, our table mates were fans of the opening duo Lomelda who were dressed so lowkey and casual and spent a lot of time tuning their twelve strings but sounded great. At one point the lead woman who sported a crew cut congratulated the bride and groom. The audience laughed. “Y’know - vibes,” she said. Weddings are the lifeblood of this particular City Winery operation, there was no doubt. I envied her being on stage, that ease and confidence. I wished I was up there but thought they were wonderful.
I said hi to Tony who plays in the band. I’ve been following their progress around the country through his Facebook posts. He was pleased we’d made the trek.
Magnetic Fields took their seats onstage: Stephin towards one side on a stool, Sam the violinist, and Shirley with a sort of ukelele and vocals on the other; Tony on guitars and Chris the keyboardist behind. They were magnificent, I wish I could remember all the songs they played but there was definitely Andrew In Drag, Book of Love, Kiss Me Like You Mean It; Papa Was A Rodeo, Kraftwerk in a Blackout. Claudia Gonson came out to sing on The Day The Politicians Died, getting a rousing cheer the day before Donald Trump was to be arraigned in Manhattan. It was a perfect show, the resonance of Stephin’s voice almost not needing a mic, you could feel it through the old wooden factory floorboards. Everyone in the band was spectacular and the audience was just so into it and unannoying which is never a given these days. We were all in rapture I think. Spellbound. Thank god for music to transport us. Any time I see a live show these days I’m just so grateful in a way I never felt before.
The lights came up. Everyone was glowing. I asked Aphrodite and Golly if they’d driven from the city. Turns out they’d taken the train. “Oh are you staying up here tonight?”
“No, we were just going to get a train back down.” Oh to be twenty again. (It would definitely be easier than having a twenty year old again - all the worry and none of the fun.) Eric and I explained there aren’t trains or buses this far out in the country at this time of night. We offered to drive them to the bigger town of Kingston where maybe they could catch a bus down to Port Authority. “What’s that?” They checked and there were no more buses at this hour. I was amazed how carefree they seemed about the possibility of being stranded.
I saw them chuckle when I thought about leaving without paying our tab which had never materialized but I said “I wouldn’t want to stiff the waitress” and realized I sounded like Bette Davis in a gangster movie from the 1930s…stiff…waitress. Do people use these words any more? I slip sometimes and ask for the Ladies Room. Between us Eric and I were almost a century older than each of this pair.
I couldn’t help it, I felt worried for these two being stuck out in the middle of nowhere. “It’s okay,” they said. “We’re gonna order a car to take us back to the city.” I thought one of them had to have been from money, somehow.
We went downstairs to say hi to the band. We stayed chatting quite a while and when we went to leave the venue had to find a side door out. The parking lot was empty. On the steps next to the driveway our table mates were lounging with their tote and backpack, waiting under the moonlight for the car that was supposed to be coming to pick them up.
“Are you okay? I’m worried,” I told them, sounding like my mom again. Or a mom, any mom.
“We’re fine, we’re fine!” they said, probably wishing we’d leave them alone. As we got in my car and drove back north on the Thruway, I wondered if they’d just end up spending the night sleeping under a bush, waiting for a car that never came. I thought oh to be that young again.
Uh, no thanks.
I felt so inspired by MF I had to learn and record this one yesterday, All My Little Words
enjoyed your description of City Winery in Montgomery and the show, great memory for me as Stephin's Mom. I liked your "All my little words".
delightful!! at the kid's table, no less! nice writin'!! as yooozzzsh.