The Chanteuse
September 12th, 2005 | Posted by Shannon
There is a particular thrill that goes along with seeing a band that you have seen a few times already. I guess this is why Deadheads exist. Well, maybe not. Maybe that is something else entirely. Maybe this is why Tori Amos fans exist. It definitely has something to do with Radiohead worship. Well, maybe not. Because lots of people who are into Radiohead have never seen a Radiohead show. Hmm. I’d better move on to last night’s Pink Martini show, because I’m in no shape to get into a philosophical discussion with myself.
Mark and I got to the Belly Up an hour before the show with a plan to eat and drink a little. When we got there, there was this long line around the building, and it was mostly made up of, well, not to be ageist, but it was made up of, like, a lot of older people. Nothing wrong with that, truly, but I was just surprised to see the 50-70 set coming on down for a Pink Martini show. After four shows, this was a new one for me. We were the youngest people there, I kid you not. Later I did see a couple of people in their mid-thirties and a twenty-something chick who was with her mother.
So when we pulled up and saw this, I was like, “how come they are all waiting here already?” I couldn’t imagine all of them would be securing a place in front of the stage. No, I reckoned they all wanted a seat. A SEAT, at a Pink Martini show. Well, I told Mark, cool for us, I won’t have any problem getting us to the rail when the show starts! I like to pretend I elbow people and use karate moves to get people out of my way, but of course that is all an act. Really, I just move with the stealth of an invisible warrior and wiggle through that way. I’m good at it.
We had an expensive, mediocre meal at the cafe in the club. The bartendress made a comment about the age of the crowd, and I was like, yeah, I know. “Why are they all waiting?” I asked her, knowing the answer. “Because they want a SEAT!” She said. At about quarter of eight I started getting those wonderful, uneasy ripplings in my stomach that I get when I know I’m going to see a good show. Mark told me he wasn’t expecting much, and how that was good, because no matter what it would be good, since he wasn’t expecting great. I was like, dude, you just have no idea. You have no idea what you are getting into. That’s why I can’t eat this last piece of calamari. My stomach’s all anxious. Here. EAT IT. The cool thing was, we still had some wine left and the cafe let us bring it into the club, and said come back for more any time! That is really dangerous – decent wine at a show plus Shannon equals hangover. That’s why I can’t have any philosophical discussions with myself right now. I should instead just eat a pot pie and go to bed.
Can’t though, before finishing this entry. We left the cafe and walked straight out to the stage. The front was taken up by groupies, but I had a nice spot right behind the front line with a totally unobstructed view. One good thing about an, eh, older crowd, besides them not being on the floor, thereby making more room for me, is that there are no really tall guys to obstruct the view. And this, my friends, is the A-1 worst thing about going to shows and trying to see – really tall guys. They are everywhere, or were everywhere, until last night.
There was no opening act, this was AN EVENING WITH PINK MARTINI, as I was told when I called the Belly Up to see what time they were going on. And they went on at something like 8:05. Damn! I always get a thrill when I see all those good looking dudes walk out (and there are MANY of them) and then, when China Forbes appears, I get all weak at the knees and start screaming “CHINA!” Last night I was not the only one. There were a few other women doing the same thing. And you know there has to be something special about China if you are screaming HER name when there are ten handsome guys on the same stage.
China, very simply, is a Chanteuse. She is also one of the most glamorous, riveting people I have ever laid eyes on. Furthermore, she is a kick-ass singer. Where would Pink Martini be without China? She is the glue that holds the whole thing together. The rest of the band might think differently, but from the view on the other side… man. I had to force myself to look away, even when all this other great stuff was going on. She’s got that kind of presence.
It was a great show, energetic and fun, with the whole sold-out club totally into it, sitting or not. There was a woman right in front of me who was SO into it that she kept bouncing on my feet and into my glass of wine. But, I was chill with that because I know how it is when you just can’t stop bouncing to Pink Martini, though, of course, I never bounce. I always thought of that as more a Deadhead thing. Mark kept saying, over and over, “this is SO cool. This is SO cool.” OK, here is the rundown: two horns, a guitar, a bass, a grand pianist (Thomas, the main PM dude), FOUR percussionists, and China. I feel I may be leaving something out… but you get the idea. They were all perfect, having fun in a tiny place after some way bigger shows. It’s difficult to put Pink Martini into a box, but it is sort of like showtunes meet Samba. And when it is live, it is really and truly a great fucking time.
I am still feeling the tingles… even with a hangover.
