Folk Music Fantasies

In 1993, as a sophomore in college, I wrote a Letter to the Editor about a band.

At the time, I was learning the ropes of Rock 'n' Roll journalism through the local, student-run music rag, The Slicing Edge Music Journal. The staff were sponsoring a show at The Nickelodean, one of the few 18-and-over bars in town. Over The Rhine was the act.

Here's what I knew about the band: They were hip, young musicians and amazing lyricists caught up in that awkward phase of reinventing themselves for the indy music world, yet still remaining somehow true to their small-town, liberal arts, Midwestern roots. And they were really starting to "make it" beyond even the highest Ohio music standards. By that, I mean, they were getting gigs outside of the state, living as starving artists and still running after the dream: singing and rockin' and writing and living while most of their peers were working and toiling and dying at day jobs.

I liked their music, and I knew they were going to gain recognition, and I knew without a doubt that many of us would regret it in 10 years when we "discovered" this new band Over The Rhine and realized we could have seen them back in the day in a small, slimy college bar in Athens, Ohio but missed our one and only chance.

So I wrote a letter to the student-run paper, The Post, reminding readers that Toad the Wet Sprocket and Phish and other nationally-known bands had played in Athens before they were big, and don't you wish you could have been there? Well, this is your chance, I said. This band is going to be big and if you come to the show, you'll be able to say, "I saw them when ..."

Turns out, I was writing that letter to myself.

Here's what happened: The annual Palmerfest block party was scheduled for the same night. Then one of the bartenders where I worked decided to throw a party that night too. I made plans to spend the night traipsing around town on foot from party to concert to party and back. My friend Rachel was more than happy to spend her night in the same fashion, so we added another party, thrown by one of her co-workers, to our list and bounced around the brick streets of Athens becoming more and more blasted and boastful, and feeling quite popular what with so many pressing social commitments for a couple of meager, non-Greek sophomores.

We did stop in for the concert, but we were so full of ourselves and our successful party-hopping at that point that we decided - after just a few songs - to hop along to the next party on our list. The night ended with us tucked into stacked bunk beds at another friend's house where the guys who lived there were noble enough to sleep on the couches and not take advantage of the two, wasted 20-year olds who showed up at their doorstop at 3 a.m. looking for a place to crash (and thank God for good people like that).

Over The Rhine was quickly forgotten in the blur of that long night of fuddled fun and tucked away serenely in the back of my mind like a drunken co-ed in a bunk bed ...

Until 10 years later when I bought their latest CD and fell in love with their music all over again.

For the past two years, I've been monitoring their concert schedule and trying to make plans to attend a show, without luck. They still play often throughout Ohio, but it's hard to make plans for a night out and an out-of-town stay when you have a toddler at home (ohhhh, how I sometimes still long for the days when you could pick up and walk to parties and shows and friend's grimy houses without making complicated plans with babysitters and relatives and out-of-town friends).

Last Saturday, our plans finally came together. Jeromy and I spent an evening listening to Over The Rhine with 200 college-aged devotees at Little Brothers in Columbus, where the band played songs we knew and songs we didn't know and songs we'd love to know better. They returned to the stage for three encores and thanked the crowd sincerely for their rapt attention after a long night with an awful crowd in Indianapolis the day before. We sat with another couple throughout the show - one of the few other 'older' couples in the bar that we had met after standing out in the cold for 30 minutes to assure ourselves of one of the five wobbly tables on site.

We clapped and shivered and laughed and sang along and bought CDs. We daydreamed about telling this growing hope of a baby about the small, folk-pop concert he attended while tucked away inside my womb. We were reminded of all the shows we had attended in Tucson when Robey was in my belly - including Santana, Kathy Mattea, Sheryl Crow and Stomp. We were reminded of young Air Force friends - city boys and R&B fans - who we tortured like hostages by playing folk music over and over again while driving our beat-up Isuzu Trooper through muddy, four-wheel drive, state-park trails in Southern Mississippi. We were reminded of our common love for roots music, for harmonization, for long, instrumental openings and good, old-fashioned acoustic guitar pickin'. We were reminded of our youth together and our future together and our continued longings for nights out together having a good time.

And, finally, I was reminded of another fantasy that I've had for the last two years. It's the type of romantic wish that you never express out loud with the hope that it will come true someday on its own, while knowing full well that no one else but you would ever dream it up in their own silly head. So, I'm making the wish here. While I may be ruining any possibility of a surprise, I hope I'm opening the door to the possibility of a fantasy fulfilled: This Christmas, or maybe next Christmas or next birthday or even next Valentine's day, I'd love to receive nothing but a stack of Over The Rhine CDs - every single one available, all piled up and tied together with a red bow and an invitation to enjoy many, many happy hours of singing out loud in the car.

Man. When did I become such a romantic?

Comments

[Sarah]

That is really cool for your baby. I wish I could have taken The Goon Squad to some concerts when I was pregnant with them, but I was mostly too sick to go anywhere.

They did (at least in my second trimester) make it to rehearsals with me, so they might actually have a working knowledge of Bach's Christmas Oratorio.

[jen]

What a dreamy post! I think OTR would be impressed with their diehard fan.

Phenomonal couple "Quiet music should be played loud. We are not brother and sister." OTR album cover. Supreme lyrics, I love bands that write their own songs!!! The piano playing is incredible and so heartfelt on the Drunkard's Prayer album (YEAH! it finally came). Good Sunday music.

Thanks for telling me of them. Remember when we saw PHISH at the Newport before they were Something. Rocky top, rocky top, rocky top Tennessee.

Those were the days . . .

[Shannon Lewis]

Just want you to remember that the Over the Rhine show was MY idea (they've been my favorite band on earth since '91)...even though I had to be out of town playing a gig with my band when that date came around. I've probably seen them 50+ times by now, though, so I think I made up for it. Always glad to find other SEMJ folks. Enjoyed reading your blog, too...

take care, Alison!

[Alison]

Shannon! I remember you. I've sometimes wondered about all the SEMJ folks at OU. How great to hear from one. Looking forward to checking out your blog.