Shitty economy? What shitty economy? Of course, I’m just being cute (which isn’t hard for me, what with my pigtails, unicorn-emblazoned Trapper Keeper, and all). The shitty economy is no laughing matter. But perhaps our teetering on the brink of global economic meltdown –– the crisis is indeed global, began globally, and needs to be solved by global-minded legislators –– has inspired us to put on our party pants and dance on the edge of the volcano. In other words, I bar-hopped this weekend, and every place I went to was packed.
Normally, if I forgo Dateline to brave the wilds of Clubland on a weekend night, I hit one venue, see one show, and go home. But this past weekend, my lovely wife was out of town, which inspired me to be a little more –– how you say? –– wheels off. Just kidding. I didn’t booze any more with her gone than I would have with her by my side. OK. Maybe a little. Regardless, I went out on Thursday and Friday evenings without particular shows in mind to see and was practically floored by the amount of people in my way, in my seat, and in my parking spot. Ever heard of Emory Quinn? Me either, but he had Lola’s Saloon pretty hopping on Friday. A quick Google search conducted on my spacephone revealed that Emory Quinn is not a person but a band from San Antonio. Whatever. Realizing I was committing a nearly unpardonable sin by spending money during a non-Fort Worth band’s gig, I glanced around the room for a friendly, open-minded soul to talk me into staying. Enter: singer-songwriter Carey Wolff, in mourning, for lack of a much better term, over his recent separation from Malone’s Pub, where he had been tending bar for more than a dozen years. Carey didn’t provide me with an elegant, eloquent reason for staying (though we both agreed that Emory Quinn’s guitarist/mandolinist is badass). But he distracted me long enough to realize that by the time I left I would have been able to catch only the last few songs of Kevin Aldridge & The Appraisers’ set at the Wild Rooster, a show that was at the top of my list o’ shows to see before I set out on Friday. At Lola’s, I also got a bonus in the form of bartender Graham Richardson, former bandmate of Wolff’s in the dearly departed alt-country outfit Woodeye. Confronted with the question that’s been on a few people’s minds –– “Does Woodeye’s fancy new Facebook page mean the band’s getting back together?” –– Wolff smiled sheepishly and said something that if I hadn’t been drinking for hours beforehand would have probably remembered. If I had to guess, it was, No, the band is not getting back together, but reunion shows are not out of the question. But that’s just a guess. I split before I got all nosy and went for a nightcap at 7th Haven. (And then for another nightcap, at Wired Willy’s.) Both places were bustling but not nearly as crowded as Lola’s. The good news is that I heard the next night’s Lola’s show –– with local headliners Stella Rose –– was also packed. I would have gone if not for the head-pounding effects of, um, the global economic crisis.
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