You can feel it all over

This is where I would normally put a picture I took during last night's wonderful show at the Hotel SnS. Unfortunately, due to a stupid water-spilling move on my part, my camera is out of commission and may be down for the count. So I don't have any photos of last night's show.

But don't cry for me, friends. Even if my fellow basement show revelers hadn't taken enough pictures to go around, the images would still be stamped in my brain for posterity. You don't forget weekends like this one. I'm sure I say something similar every year, and every year it's true.

The fun commenced on Friday night with the Rock 'n Roll Hell party at SnS. I'm very proud of our collective creativity: there was nary an Elvis nor a Janis Joplin in the house. No, a peek into Rock and Roll Hell in Humboldt Park on Friday would have shown Allen Ginsberg chatting with Don Ho as DeeDee Ramone and Waylon Jennings faced off in a Guitar Hero battle, while Laura Branigan, Dusty Springfield, and Mimi Farina discussed pork cheeks with John Philip Sooza. I went as Lisa "Left Eye" Lopes, and although I wasn't forced to sing "Waterfalls," I did brandish my gasoline can and threaten to burn down random people's houses. Sam (or should I say Michael Hutchence?) always has the best party ideas.

Saturday got started seemingly just a few hours after Friday ended, with the annual Hot Doug's outing, followed by the annual baking and cooking and Hotel SnS prepping. I really think our chefs outdid themselves this year, with a truly stunning array of pork-related items among other delicious dishes and desserts. Alison needs to make at least twice as much mac and cheese next time. Same with those oatmeal butterscotch cookies. Evonne wins the creativity prize for the year, though, by making commemorative pot holders for all.

Not long after Jeff and Susan (and Mike and Paula) arrived, the show got underway. It seems like each year's basement show has its own unique vibe - this might have been the "chatty" year. We're all easily distracted, it seems, and somehow managed to spend four-plus hours of concert time singing, playing, telling stories, asking questions, petting dogs, cooing over babies, teasing one another, dancing, and laughing. To focus on the "singing" part of that wonderful amalgam, there were many songs that stood out for me. "More Like the Moon" was lovely as always. "Thirteen" was excellent, and "Simple Twist of Fate" was an inspired choice that (eventually) worked out really well. (I liked the thought of Bob Dylan playing a living room show somewhere and being inundated by requests for Jeff Tweedy songs.) "I'm Always in Love" was a fitting choice to dedicate to Nat, and the upbeat song helped to counteract my sadness. For the first time I won't be chatting with her about our show today - and that's a damn shame, because she would have loved the story of the dedication.

Finally seeing "The Unwelcome Guest" performed was as amazing as I could have hoped. After years of Alison requesting it, her wish was granted at last - with the added bonus of Mart and Dave accompanying Jeff on vocals and guitar. As always, the talents of our musical friends made the night even more memorable. "Airline to Heaven" and "Long Cut" sounded great. And watching Jeff take a seat to watch Mart play "Sir Duke" (which they theoretically were supposed to play together) is a memory that will make me smile possibly forever. If we get to do this again next year, I hope we manage to convey some of our more unusual requests ahead of time so Jeff can feel more prepared - I did feel guilty about peppering him with so many requests for songs he could hardly be expected to know out of the blue. The performance of "Sir Duke," however, was perfect just the way it was.

After Jeff's last song was finally played, the group picture taken (about ten times), and the awesome Jay Ryan posters were signed, we bid the Tweedys goodnight. After a break for more chatting and consumption of various baked goods, it was back to the basement for the evening's main event (just kidding! or AM I?): more songs by Mart and Dave. From "Rocky Raccoon" to "Purple Rain," and the full ballad of Officer Ron Tugnutt and the Golden Nugget Rug, we sang and danced until we could sing and dance no more. Saying goodbye to everyone in the early morning hours is always bittersweet. We've had a fantastic time together, but it's almost over for now. People have planes to catch and drives to make, and some of us won't see each other again for quite awhile. Until people upload pictures, anyway.

How many different ways can I find to express how thankful I am, every year, that we get to do this? I don't think I'll worry about that too much. Whatever words I find, they're always genuine and from the heart. A lot of families had a brighter start to their new year thanks to the money raised by Letters to Santa. I am so fortunate to have an incredible group of friends who make this weekend so much more than just a show, or just a party, or "just" anything. Jeff and Susan are so giving of their time and energy, kindness and talents - and patience - in making these events possible. And then making them amazing. If I say that every year, then I guess it just means I'm one lucky girl.

Also see:
2007
2006

Out on the weekend

In January of 2005, my friends and I got together for the first Jeff Tweedy show at Hotel SnS. We had never done anything like it before, and I remember it well as a beautiful mess of a night, full of singalongs and crazy requests and disbelief that the show was even happening. Through some great organization, teamwork, and super genorosity on the part of a lot of people (first and foremost Jeff and Susan) we have now been able to repeat that experience twice. Of course, "repeat" is inaccurate. Last year we had a blowout of a weekend featuring three musical acts on Friday night, three official performances on Saturday night, a PA system and detailed recording setup; the works. It was awesome, of course, but I figured that the quality of "pure, crazed giddiness," was something that could never really be captured again. Things could be equally amazing, but not in the same way.

As it turned out, I was half right. Saturday night was definitely not the same as that night in 2005. But to me, it had a very similar vibe. We did away with the PA and all its trappings, and planned for more informal sets from Mart and Dave. As it turned out, we got so much more than we bargained for.

The fun actually began on Friday, with the "I Hate the 90s" party at SnS. As it happens, I do not hate the 90s at all. The years 1990-1999 saw me from age 10 to age 20, so it would be pretty sad if I hated them. I dug up enough 90s clothing and accessories to provide headbands and chokers for others, and necessitate a costume change for me halfway through the night. I was pleased that Sam and Paul were on the same schedule. What can I say about the party? Besides including a bona fide 90s rock star (Sam's friend Eli of the Smoking Popes), we enjoyed jell-o shots, 1994 Sassy magazines, an array of costume styles from grunge to slacker to britpop to kinderwhore (thanks for the reminder, Thax) to hip hop, Malibu Musk, and a masterful playlist that included the extended version of the Fresh Prince of Bel Air theme. There's a verse about the plane ride to California! Who knew? It was nice to see some more Chicago-area friends I don't get to hang out with very often, and meet some new people too. Abby and I briefly became Snoop Dogg and Dr. Dre, performing "Nothin' But a G Thang" for the whole basement late in the night. And Trish should be giving Macarena lessons to the masses. (Well, actually, nobody should be giving Macarena lessons to the masses. But Trish could.)

Then came Saturday. The highlight of the early afternoon was meeting Judy and Doug's adorable baby Hannah, with the second annual trip to Hot Doug's thrown in for good measure. Then came cooking, Wii playing, final basement prep, and greeting the continuous stream of friends coming through the door with delicious food and/or drinks. From mac & cheese, lasagna, Dick's savory meat (it never gets old!), and pierogies to brownie bars, cookies, chai birthday cupcakes and almond bark containing more than 50% of California's entire supply of almonds, and more. There were also hot pink porn star drinks created by Sooz's Paul - delicious and surprisingly potent. A few more guests joined the party, including our poster artist extraordinaire Jay Ryan, who brought his wife Diana (designer of our 2005 poster) and some guy named Andrew Bird. He had an appointment to fix a hammered dulcimer later on that night, but he hung out for awhile.

After a great set of originals by Dave Mirabella, Jeff and Susan arrived. I think it's around this point that the details start to get hazy for me. (I can blame the porn stars for that, but only a little bit.) There was some chatting and more eating, and more music. Jeff played about a million songs for us that night. We went around the room with everybody picking one song ("If I can't play the song you request ... then you get to pick a different song") and then choosing the person to go next. It was a lot of fun, and people made some great choices. My own selection was "Woodgrain" - something I'd never heard in person until Saturday. I will love Heidi and Kristina always for choosing "Let's Not Get Carried Away" and "More Like the Moon," respectively. Anyway, there were lots of songs (but not the theme from "Cheers"), and stories, and laughter, and even dancing. Kande's Sock Jeff was a big hit. Later, Dave, Mart, Adam, and Devin joined Jeff for the "singalong" song portion of the evening, becoming the "Five Man Acoustical Jam" (thanks, Paul) and powering through a variety of covers and Wilco songs. By the time Jeff serenaded Susan with a couple of Herman's Hermits tunes to cap off the night, my mind was officially blown. The night had been somehow greater than the sum of its parts - and its parts were pretty damned great. I think a big part of it was just being able to look around the room at a sea of really good friends. Everything seemed to radiate a warm, comfortable (and yes, a little bit giddy) happiness. I am officially very lucky.

After the show was finally over and the annual group photo was taken, we went back upstairs for a quick poster signing. Hannah and Doug reappeared, and Jeff got to hold Hannah. Much documentation of the cuteness ensued. Not long after the Tweedys were escorted out by the Beloved Valet, we had another wonderful performance by Mart in the basement. Curtis Mayfield and the Police blurred together (into a really interesting supergroup) as we sat and sang along in the wee hours of the morning. Dave even took over on guitar at one point while Judy, Paul and I (and many others) sang "Corduroy Cutoff Girl" - proving that it can't be that hard to pull off.

Eventually even the best parties must come to an end, and this one was no exception. After some early morning Wii Sports with Sam and Paul, I headed back home as the sun began to peek over the horizon. It was a good weekend, I'd say.

Oh my

I can't possibly start in on this weekend quite yet. So I'll just post one of my favorite photos from Saturday night. Martin Rivas and Jeff Tweedy.

Sing like you was singin' to Jesus!

Way back in late December of 2005, a bunch of needy families in Chicago had a super Christmas thanks to the generosity of many people. In a related story, in mid-April of 2006, many people had an amazing weekend of music and friendship and music and delicious food and more music, and some of them are still recovering and trying to figure out how they became lucky enough to know such a fantastic group of people.

When we do something, we don't do it half-assed. Both cheeks, as Gwennie averred. Saturday night was the culmination of everything, of course, featuring the musical stylings of Mart and Dave as well as Jeff Tweedy. Two Cow didn't end up performing, given their night's schedule at Subterranean, but they did stop by for food and drinks early on. It's kind of a shame, because I know how excited Jeff was by the prospect of opening for them.

We ate, we drank, and we were merry. Among the candy jock straps, pretzel fights, Boston terrier impressions, Bell Biv Devoe poses, brownies, and wisecracks were some very, very fine performances. Jeff's set was great, and seeing Dave and Mart play with him was such a treat. Not to mention the late-night campfire singalong afterward. The music didn't end until the not-so-wee hours of Sunday morning, and I drove home as the sun rose. It was the perfect finale.

If I had to compare last year's show to this year's, I'd say that last year had a more dreamlike quality to it - being the first of its kind, I don't know if any of us really believed it even as it was happening, and it was a bit more of a free-for-all. This year I think we all knew each other a little too well for the pure, crazed giddiness to reach critical levels - but that added something, too. Another red-letter day on my memory calendar.



By the way, remember that exam I took last Thursday afternoon? I got a 98.