bass and bliss

Yesterday was a busy one, though Mr.Q and I managed a nap before we made our way downtown to the Commodore Ballroom to see the Philosopher Kings.

We not only found parking amazingly easily, we got to the line and waited only a short time before heading in and stationing ourselves at our table. The server, I’m sure, was rather disappointed that neither one of us would be drinking [but we left her a really good tip]. My back wasn’t too happy with the chairs and I spent a good deal of the evening shifting around, much to the viewing pleasure of all those seated in my vicinity, I’m sure.

BabyQ, however, either loves live music or hates uncomfortable chairs, club soda and chicken burgers. There was one hell of a party going on in my abdomen last night, and I prefer to think the cause was the former.

The night started off with the Jon Levine Band – three members of the Philosopher Kings. Now, I love Jon Levine, as the keyboardist. As the frontman to the Jon Levine Band? I’m not so sure. He was fine, the tunes were catchy and hook-y, done with presence, and the piano playing was, of course, divine. Everything was inoffensive. Completely listenable, appreciable on the talent level, but I’m not inclined to rush out and spend money of any of it. [ah, yes, my snap opinion, based solely on three songs.]

Next up was James Bryan, another one of the Philosopher Kings, in an instrumental set and back with the same bass player and drummer from the Jon Levine Band and, ergo, the Philosopher Kings [holy, nepotism, batman]. Again, we have talent – this time on the guitar – definite presence and well written bits. I could actually consider purchasing his CD, despite the fact that I wouldn’t normally consider his music to fit in with what I generally listen to. But who said I have to listen to the same stuff all the time?

Finally, after an excruciatingly long and uncomfortable break [sorry babyQ!], the Philosopher Kings, as a whole, took the stage. And with that, came a whole other presence in the form of Gerald Eaton. Oh, yeah. That’s why I put up with the uncomfortable chair and questionable chicken burger. It was all over the top and, on occasion, ego-maniacal, but the boy can sing, damn it, and the group did some great new material and the best of the past [after Oleo and Cry I was a happy girl]. I should have already purchased their new CD, but now there is no question that I will.

Having banned myself from movie theatres about a month ago [I barely survived sitting through Narnia], I was decidedly leery about attending a concert at 6 months pregnant. I was, however, not the only significantly pregnant person there last night – the first time I’ve noticed such at this bar, and I’ll leave you to draw your own conclusions about the music and/or the desparate, midnight-hour, must-have-a-life state of pregnant women. There is still one more hurdle to overcome: April 3, at approximately 31 weeks and some odd days pregnant, I get to go see Hawksley Workman in concert. I’m sure that, too, will be well worth it and, undoubtedly result in another CD purchase.

I just hope there’s comfortable seating.

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