A little while back I texted my friends and veteran house concert troubadours on their opinion of my house as an appropriate venue for hosting a show. Not their show….just a show. David thought I might be able to get 30 or so people in the space.
I never did anything with that information. It was just another one of my Beautiful Ideas.
Maybe a week later he asked me if I’d like to host a house concert? A lovely woman by the name of Marian Call was embarking upon a tour across the states. She and David had talked about getting together for a show for a while but it never seemed to work out. I think. Maybe that’s the story? It’s the new truth because it’s late and god-so-help-me, I just want to get this story told. So I can tell all the other ones waiting in the wings.
My answer was yes. Actually, since we’re making up stuff around here, I was all, “Oh hell yesss, muthafucka!”
Profanity aside, I truly was excited to have them play here. I am a fan of David’s band, Dr. Pants, and to have that glory happening under my roof seemed like a no-brainer. I had never heard of Marian Call, but I trust his judgement.
Bryan, Marian’s guitarist for this leg of her tour, had flown in Saturday night and Sunday morning I scooted to his hotel to pick him up. Later in the afternoon, we three moved sofas, unfolded chairs and ::boom:: a venue was born.
FYI to any indie folk artist who are looking for a place to have a house concert in Oklahoma City, my house seems as if it could hold 45 or so people. The final count for Sunday was right around 30, so things didn’t get crazy. In fact, things only got cooler as the evening wore on.
Right when they were supposed to, people arrived and they all had their proper donations. Some even had extra and I think the bands had a successful night in Casa de Sheri. I had a successful night, too, as a friend from Texas brought up a case of bottled Fat Tire each for David and I. As I cleaned up after the show I proudly tossed vegetables from my crisper drawer to make room for all those lovely bottles.
I don’t remember a whole lot of detail from the show. There were a lot of friends in the room, which was a perfectly acceptable distraction in my book, plus I was knee deep in Fat Tire and whatnot. Sitting here tonight, I can think of ways to improve for next time as a person who wants to be writing about these many adventures upon which she embarks. Perhaps I’ll keep a camera with me? Or….I don’t know….take photos of all these lovely friends who attended? Next time. Next time I will be more present and less flittery. The times lately that I’ve most enjoyed the magic of live music, I’ve been writing words in my head as I’m listening and watching. All systems are go and I’m taking note as to not forget.
One memory did surface, and it’s one I experience more often and more deeply as I become better friends with David and his wife K.C. I get a little weepy or get chills at least once during the evening, whether it be a Dr. Pants set or a K.C. Clifford set. To see people I love do the work they love makes my heart swell and makes me want to be a more open and vulnerable person. This is how music makes me better. I watch their vulnerability and it gives me joy and strength, even when it involves throwing donuts to a captive audience. You know what…. ESPECIALLY when it involves throwing donuts into a captive audience.
Marian was delightful! She sings a lot about nerdy / geeky things, but then just funny / cool life observations, too. And she uses a vintage typewriter as a percussion instrument. Correction, she brilliantly uses a vintage typewriter as a percussion instrument.
And she handed out props for songs…
And Dr. Pants did what Dr. Pants does…
And it was glorious.
A big, huge thank you to David Broyles, K.C. Clifford, Marian Call and Bryan Ray for being so lovely to the newbie and for helping make a wonderful house concert happen. All I did was provide a venue and place for two musicians to sleep. They did all the magic and I’m, once again, grateful for the daily miracles. Sunday had miracles stacked to the rafters. <3
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