Every once in a while it’s great to break of out the crate and do something a little different. Kisa, Aimless and I wandered off to Becket last night. Not Ball player Beckett or the Waiting for Godot kind… but the place that hides the Dream Away Lodge.
I could spend a whole blog on where we went, but I’d rather talk about why we went – Sean Rowe. I do have to say a few words about DAL, though. From the very beginning it was a kind of kismet experience. Aimless was talking about going somewhere because her friend worked with someone who happened to be the girlfriend of someone performing. Kisa and I were going to that same place simply because of that someone performing. Unplanned plans. We decided to carpool. We both forgot the directions. DAL is advertised as the place impossible to forget, impossible to find. That’s nearly accurate because the place is out there – in the middle of nowhere out there. Once you’re there, you’re there and you know it. It’s a farmhouse, a restaurant, a bar, a hippie hangout, a family experience, a speakeasy and maybe once a brothel. From every corner of the room, covering every wall, art and artifacts stare back at you (I swear I saw Gehring). Dogs roam freely among diners, cats wait for behind the ear scratches. Fresh flowers on every table, mismatched plates at your elbows. Wander from room to room with your coffee, maybe kick off your shoes in front of the fire. Listen to the music as long as you respect the tip jar.
Like I said, we were there for Sean and *that* voice. I was too shy to reintroduce myself from the night with Soul Session so I lurked on the fringe of requests and compliments and just smiled. “Remember me?” just seemed too lame an utterance, especially when the answer would have been “no.”
‘Alone’ is one of my favorite songs. I could have asked him to sing that one three or four times…in a row. Might have annoyed some members of the audience, but I wouldn’t have minded! I’m always amazed that one guy with one guitar comes out with so much sound. I love the illusion of hearing trains and drums and heatbeats, all phantoms to reality. Sean has a new song…I don’t know the name of it – but it’s about crashing a car. It’s intense, mesmerizing and dangerous. I could have stayed all night. Surrounded by homemade pillows and a crackling fireplace, I let the music invade my ears, tangle with my brain and thrill my heart only to escape in the cool night air, uncaptured and unconfined for another time.
I want to go back to DAL – eat dinner with the dogs at my knee, sit by the fire with a glass of Merlot and feel at home, lost in Becket.
I go through phases. Musically obsessed, I will listen to one artist over and over again until something takes me off course. I am not exactly sure what dictates this audio gorging, but I’ve always been this way. Ask my mother and she’ll tell you about an ABBA cassette I wore out in the 7th grade. Get me hooked on something and I don’t give it up. Won’t give it up. Ever since kisa was able to get bootlegs of BubbleGum I have been in his audience for months now. Sometimes I’m the back, absently humming along. Other times I’m right up in the front row, screaming my heart out. Daily doses of BubbleGum. Two nights ago I watched Any Given Thursday back to back with a New York show from earlier this year, trying to reconcile 2002 with 2007. I still can’t believe it’s the same guy! Just last night kisa found a secret show, something recorded at 1am. Intriguing.
~*LunaSea*~ 