Not Liquor Lyle's, dammit!

Woot. Run At The Dog (shortform henceforth: R@TD) played Lee's Liquor Lounge last night, their second full-blown show with new drummer Jake.

Tuesday nights are rough for shows, as their were only 20-30 people present, most of which had been in bands with or have played with R@TD's members in some capacity. The rest of the onlookers were regular sops or other musicians on the bill, including a vaguely entertaining lecherous twit with a fake 'stache, chops, and stuffed trousers.

Downside: not enough people saw them.
Upside: everyone in attendance got a far bigger share of goodness.

I brought my neighbor, Doug, to observe the proceedings. He'd heard some of the stuff from the Song Fu sessions and was impressed enough to go to an 11:30 pm show despite work in the early am.

I've seen R@TD play enough to keep my jaw hinged properly, so when possible, I like to bring new people to their shows so I can observe how they react.

We set up a little further back, as I'd been charged with creating media documentation of the event, which really just means Jake (the new guy) handed me his videocam and Maureen handed me her camera.

Doug's reaction pleased me. He recorded about half the show on his phone. Of course, the the show's volume crisped his phone's mic, so it sounds about like any of the times I've called people from concerts to leave them voicemails of their favorite songs, but anyhow....

It means the boy was damn impressed, which makes me happy, as it was a damn impressive show.

I was too busy juggling cameras to get too specific a read, otherwise I'd be more inclusive, but a smidge of highlights will have to suffice...

Noon Moon live? There might have been a hiccup or two near the beginning, but this song blew everyone away. The lumbering tension of the first portions of the song was a little more straightforward than the Fu version, dropping a little of its faint menace. Whether that was planned or merely the result of being live and LOUD AS FUCK, I don't know. But when it turns to the shimmering finale, I wanted to engage in some epic pogoing, even though pogoing is one of the least appropriate dance steps for the occasion, especially if you're minding a DV cam that's lighter than the tripod it's on.

The closer, Two Days to Remember, typically has a gap in the middle of it where they'll improv something or medleyize another song in, but last night they opted to hand their instruments off to audience members (or invite to their rigs where applicable) and went outside and played in the snow for a bit. They came back in, finished the song, and there was much rejoicing.

I hauled Moe's keyboard out to her car so she could avoid the previously-mentioned mustachioed idjit a little bit longer, then left to drop Doug off.

It was a good night.

And now, I prep to go to work.

Oh, and a P.S., although I really don't think post scriptum applies in this situation.

I've built myself a little writing desk in my room. I'll be writing all those difficult, creepy and incriminating entries in notebooks again, as my two-year experiment in pseudo-emotional full-disclosure has either made people think I was depressed or not read my scribblings at all, so to hell with that. Also, journaling on paper provides opportunity for doodling, which, lacking classes to go to and be bored by, I'd forgotten how much I enjoyed.

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