March 10th, 2004.

Another night playing with Ember Swift. It’s amazing how repetition breeds comfort– and tonight it was smiles and familiar faces. A decidedly tragic turn-out, but the Gravity Lounge itself was such a cool room that I hardly had time to take notice. Part book store, part high-end feeding trough, part really nice music venue. It was Lovely.

The show itself was quiet and gentle with high-points of neccessary energy and angst, but all in all, very relaxed, very calm. Ember, of course, was spectacular – I ended up having to go to the bathroom towards the end of her set, but I don’t know that I’ve ever had better bathrooming music. It was just a great time – though I avoided using the hand-dryer for fear that that would be distracting to the 15 audience members. (YES I flushed) My poor pants were just abused.

Anywho, the real magic was afterwards. Ember was much more outgoing than she was at Jammin Java, much more approachable – or maybe I was just less NERVOUS AS HELL – I fear I was suffering from a bit of fan-boy syndrome, shaking and slightly wishing to be worshipful. Traded smiles and a shared appreciation of the waiter, stories of our Love for On-Demand programming… I felt guilty steering the conversation away from politics. I felt REALLY guilty for eating a roast-beef sandwich during her “Politics of Food” song – I felt like her eyes were watching, and I thought I saw her wince with one of my bites.

But we talked of roads and wandering and venue owners and I was so glad to find out that – here was a woman who’s been doing this for eight years (!) and who still Loved it, and who still enjoyed going back to places where she was known and Loved. Places, perhaps, that weren’t “strategic”, but that she just wanted to be. I can see myself doing that, Loving that, for a long, long time. Nothing I’d rather be doing.

Ember Swift. An amazing performer.
Ember Swift. An amazing performer.
Her bass player... and fiddle player, and guitarist (though she just whacks it with a bow, and plays it like a cello), Lyndell Montgomery.
Her bass player… and fiddle player, and guitarist (though she just whacks it with a bow, and plays it like a cello), Lyndell Montgomery.
The beautiful Gravity Lounge down in Charlottesville, VA. A large stage and lots and lots of books. Lots of distracting books. I could've sat there for hours. Sigh.
The beautiful Gravity Lounge down in Charlottesville, VA. A large stage and lots and lots of books. Lots of distracting books. I could’ve sat there for hours. Sigh.
The Gravity Lounge in Charlottesville, VA. Unfortunately, the Virginia University was in the midst of Spring Break, giving the Gravity Lounge this horrifically abandoned appearance. A beautiful sound-system replicating our voices and chords for about five pairs of ears. Ten hungry ear-holes... we plugged'em.
The Gravity Lounge in Charlottesville, VA. Unfortunately, the Virginia University was in the midst of Spring Break, giving the Gravity Lounge this horrifically abandoned appearance. A beautiful sound-system replicating our voices and chords for about five pairs of ears. Ten hungry ear-holes… we plugged’em.

Oh – and one last note. Upon our departure, we all hugged, and she SMELLED nice!!! Musicians NEVER smell nice! She said we did too, but I fear she may have just been being nice.

Oh – and one OTHER last night – you can’t tell from the website (www.emberswift.com if I’ve not mentioned it) but up close and in person, Lyndell is spectacularly beautiful. It’s just something that should be said.

So, with those thoughts in my head – good smells and good music and beautiful women in memory and in the car, we disappear down the road, wending our way to Washington on the way to Baltimore, with whispers of “happy birthday” to Heather’s Dad. We’re coming home.


Ok, tired of driving – wondering how Ember and Lyndell get along musically. I mean, between Heather and I, we have lots of problems. I mean, I have very sensible musical tastes – between my Led Zeppelin and Cypress Hill and Metallica and Indigo Girls and Mountain Goats and Spice Girls and disco, I’ve got all the variety anyone could ever want, not to mention all the good taste. How Heather can be frustrated by that, I can’t imagine… and why she insists on listening to Ludikris, or however his name is spelled, is waaay beyond me. Sigh.

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