Day 7: Singing and Sarazin

I think that the blog posts I write during the week will be pretty brief, or bundled together in to multi-day posts when nothing really happens. As a breather from the lengthy weekend posts a few days ago, this will be brief and more serve as a sales-pitch for a friend, and a message of "I'm still alive" to those who may ask.

I've settled nicely in to the work routine, leaving the flat around 08:00 to catch the subway in to Manhattan. Some days it is hectic and busy, other days it is dead. There doesn't seem to be any rhyme nor reason to this but I'm not complaining. I worry when it's too quiet that I've missed the last stop, or a bomb warning, or a madman on the loose or anything really. And then I worry when its too busy that I'm going to suffocate, or not be able to get off at my stop, or even be able to see if it's my stop, or that someones' going through my back-pack, or anything really. It's nice that the universe mixes it up for me.

The work day came to an early finish yesterday when the top floors of the building (8th till 13th, I'm on 9th) lost power and was running on batteries. I had plans for the evening, so this was a welcome disruption as it meant that I could get home, check in with people back home, and get some dinner before heading out.

I mentioned a few days ago that I  ended up at Pete's Candy Shop two days too early for the Robert Sarazin Blake gig. No such problems last night, although, a crap sense of direction on my part helped me lose my way to the bar. I eventually got there around half an hour before Robert was going to play, so I sat at the bar (checking with the bar man that he was definitely playing tonight) and had a drink.

I've played a good number of shows with Robert back in Scotland, with some of my earliest favourite gigs being at the TransEurope Cafe in Glasgow with him. Pete's Candy Shop isn't actually all that different in style to the TransEurope, except with a better bar and a PA for the minuscule stage. I heard the door open and in he walked, immediately recognising me and coming over to say hi. After pleasantries were exchanged, and the usual explanation of why I find myself in the States, he introduced me to Thomas who would be playing Trumpet and Saxaphone during his set. Not at the same time, I might add.

We went through to the venue area to watch the support act who was just about to start her set. The venue as a whole listed as having a capacity of 90, but in reality the small stage area has a capacity of around 30 and the main, seperate, bar area closer to 60. The style throughout the venue is 1940s, with fabric wall paper, a heavy pine bar and wooden bar stools. The lighting is dark but warm, and the drinks are affordable compared to Manhattan.

The support act didn't do much for me, who was a typical singer-songwriter of songs of love, and love songs. I finished my beer to early during her set, but out of politeness couldn't get up to go and get another. Finally, there was a short break while Robert and Thomas set up and so I could make a hidden trip to the bar.

They brought with them a small crowd of around 20 people, making the venue area feel very busy for the gig. Robert has just finished recording a new album in Brooklyn, and the audience was made up of a few friends and musicians who played on it. He started off his set with three new tracks from this record, the first being a tribute to getting old but remaining to be an independent, but respected, artist despite the lack of 'fame'. It was a barnstomper, with Robert on hollow-bodied electric and Thomas on saxaphone. Some moments were quite jazzy, then kicking it up to a Jungleland like solo towards an almost whispered middle section before a final chorus. It was amazing.

He only had a forty minute set, which didn't give much time for many songs. When he plays, it sometimes feels like he's making the songs up as he goes, with spoken intros given over finger picked guitars before he's segued in to the first verse of a song. The middle section of his set was full of older material, with Thomas switched on to muted trumpet.

For his final song, he had two of his audience members (who played on the album) get up and join Thomas and him for a last, unplugged song. I've grown a bit tired of acoustic acts unplugging for their last song, but this had a completely different feel. It sounded like music that was written in a barn, or around a camp fire with no audience in mind. Or, if there was an audience, it was written in the distant years gone by such that everyone knew it but hadn't learnt it. Like "This land is your land", or "Wild Rover" or, well, you get the idea.

The two of them had played a folk festival the previous night alongside Pete Seeger, and this inspired this sing-a-long to close the proceedings. The chorus is simple, and a good place to end this post too.

"Isn't it amazing what they're doing with plastic, I could have sworn it was made out of wood.
The world is changing, I know that it scares you, and I know that you'd change it,

If only you could"