In a rather spontaneous moment, I decided to purchase tickets for Ray Lamontagne from some guy selling a pair on Craigslist. The seats were second row from the stage, but all the way in the left corner. I had some concerns, namely:
-- I never purchased tickets this way before and thought I could potentially be out 200 bucks
-- what if the seats were obscured by a big amp or something
-- what if I didn't get the tickets in time for the show
To my glee, the tickets showed up at my doorstep two days prior to the show (and two days after I ordered them) and they looked legit. So, my lady and I left work a little early and ventured out to New Haven, CT -- which happened to be the closest venue he was playing at.
After some dinner and drinks at a vast, empty Italian restaurant, we walked over to the Shubert. As soon as we made it into the lobby, I was taken by two things:
1. The place was opulent (I think that means what I want it to mean). Bright, velvety, ordained with memorabilia in the form of playbills and posters from a bygone era. It was like stepping into a great room from The Shining hotel, minus the impending doom.
2. The bar service.
My girlfriend and I waited on the drink line, chatting up some other concertgoers, who touted how good Lamontagne
was live. After ordering (Jack and Coke, my go-to choice when I want to maximize buzz while minimize return trips), we made our way to the seats. At this point, I'm feeling really good about my decision.
As we walked toward the stage, we kept getting stopped and re-directed. Once we reached our row, the usher pointed to the two seats tucked off in the left corner. Looking back, the first usher could have saved all the confusion by saying: 'Just sit directly in front of the HUGE F'IN AMP.'
The only two people who had worse seats that us was the couple directly in front of us. If they leaned forward, their heads would touch the amp. We all bonded over our misfortune and I think made peace with the situation.
The opening came out a few minutes later. From what I could make out, it was a three-piece band comprised of strange-looking multi-instrumentalists. The male lead singer had a somewhat collegiate look about him, sort of a mixture of coffee shop troubadour and date rapist. The female singer/bassist/drummer/washboard thingie wore something closely resembling a potato sack (made of hemp, I'm sure) with a smart red sash (possibly making that up). The emotional center of the band was the high-energy Philipino percussionist, who jumped from behind his kit to other instruments with the vigor of a... Philipino percussionist. He looked like Danny Trejo's less tatted, more musically inclined brother.
I can't remember anything about their music. I was focusing all my energy on trying to see around the amp. Not only did I want to look at them, I was also convinced that the percussionist had a scythe.
After the set, we went back to the lobby for another round of drinks and some Ben-Gay for our necks. Although the seats weren't ideal and the opening act was a bit of a downer, the vibe was still good. I just love concerts, especially at an old venue. Seeing a show with my girlfriend for the first time definitely put it over the top.
We made it back to our seats with a few minutes to spare. We noticed that the entire second row in the middle of the stage was still vacated. We agreed 'go in' together with the couple in front of us, should the seats still be empty by the third song. After a few minutes of chatting, Ray Lamontagne took the stage...
Whether you are a fan or not, one thing is without question: he is the real deal. Standing stage left with no added spotlight, the guy in the plaid shirt and long beard just starts playing. When he sings, the sounds from his voice seem to originate from his feet and flow through his entire body. There is no artifice, no affectation, no 'mailing it in.' The dude just sings his ass off. Even when he whispers a lyric, it sounds like his vocal cords are fraying.
We got so caught up in the music, we didn't realize that the couple in front of us had moved to the empty seats and were waving us over. I take it they weren't fully on board with the attack plan. Rebels. After a song or two of consternation, we decided to join them.
Best decision ever.
For the remaining hour of the show, we had the perfect seats, the perfect buzz at a perfect couples' first concert.
In the midst of what would be a multiple day hangover from my bachelor party, my fiance was watching a Jon and Kate Plus Eight marathon and I was powerless to stop it.
