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@"Oh, What A Beautiful Eeeeevening...."

Oh, what a fabulous night....



Just to preface this, I dragged four people from Pittsburgh to Delaware, and 
they THANKED me for it.

Last night, East End Cafe in Newark, DE: Peter Mulvey, accompanied by the 
guitarist/mandolinist from his last few albums, David "Goody" Goodrich. I 
know there are people on the list who like Peter Mulvey, so I thought this'd 
be appropriate here. In attendance (that present company might know): myself, 
Jessyka and her sweetie; Gardner and his roommie, Nixi, and my friends Rob 
and Anne Marie. No, you don't know the last three. But you should. Anyway.


The show was, supposedly, scheduled for "Oh, 8, 8.30," according to the chick 
on the phone. At 10, I called Lara Conrad to see if she was planning on 
joining us, since the show hadn't started yet. The openers went on soon 
after: two-fifths of the Sin City Band. Lots of fun, and they even got an 
older couple up dancing, despite the fact that there wasn't a dance floor. 
Despite the fact that they were RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME. Not that I'm bitter. 
You just get defensive about your sightlines when you're 5'-zip.

At perhaps 11pm or so, Peter, who had heretofore been wandering sociably 
around the looks-like-a-dive-bar-but-it's-really-a-kinda-hip-place room, took 
the stage with Goody. Peter played an amp'd acoustic, Goody played a modified 
electric mandolin. They ran through perhaps an hour and a half set, including 
a set of six new songs that were utterly yummy. Messieur Mulvey was talkative 
and friendly, and thankful that the TV over the bar was no longer playing 
South Park. "I'd hate to have to compete." The gig was musically tight, and 
several times, at the end of a particularly astonishing musical ride, he made 
a wide-eyed comment about how the song had taken off of its own accord. Nine 
and a half audience members agreed. (The other half was trying to beat the 
high score on the Cactus Canyon pinball game in the corner.) The first 
highlight came early: during a particularly brilliant mandolin solo, Goody 
picked up his diminutive musical instrument, aiming for his face. At first, I 
thought he was going to pull a Jimi on us, but he then proceeded to blow 
gently across the strings, creating an ethereal, floating chord that filled 
the room and made the assembled company audibly gasp. Our resultant cheers 
made the roof quiver.

Other highlights: "Smell the Future." Utterly blistering. Go, baby, go.

An extended musical give-and-take which reminded me of the Linford-Jack 
goofing-off at Canal Street. Somehow, though, I can't picture Linford 
breaking into the theme from "Shaft." (Why does that keep coming up in my 
life these days? Is there something G-d's trying to tell me about 
blaxploitation movies?) Much giggling was had all round.

A version of "I Am Stretched On Your Grave" that made the hair stand on end 
all over my head. And if you've seen my hair, you know I must've looked 
pretty silly. But it was more than worth it. There's a live version of it on 
his new live CD, "Glencree," recorded on his last trip to Ireland, but 
actually being there and hearing it, having it unfold around us, was 
something I will never forget. I used to think Sinead's version was 
something. Piffle. Peter poured himself into it until I could picture the 
whole tragic Irish scene, cold in the dark night in the graveyard, fresh dirt 
under the nails and tear-tracks on the shell-shocked lover's face-- fairly 
impressive for a hot July night in lovely downtown Newark.

The male half of our Dancing Duo, who obviously hadn't had a previous clue 
whom he was coming to see, leaning on the table next to me (He's not trying 
to pick me up, is he? Cos I'm NOT gonna dance with him...) and registering 
notable astonishment. "That guy's really good!" "He's great!" "Wow!"

Peter selling his CDs himself, sitting on the front of the little stage, 
chatting enthusiastically with all and sundry, and being sweet enough to sign 
my new "Glencree" without making me feel like I was a teenybopper again, 
holding out a pen to Nick Rhodes while Durannies sighed and squealed around 
me. I remarked he'd signed "Rapture" for me at the Emery '96 show and he 
seemed pleased. Continuity is your friend.

Nixi and I asking the same favour of Goody over by the bar, and Nixi 
laughingly informing him that if he was ever in the market for a decent 
groupie, she'd be happy to fit the bill. My friend Rob shook his hand and 
told him the last time he'd heard playing that intense was Stevie Ray Vaughn. 
Goody put his hand on his heart and bowed.


Having my friends turn to me afterwards and saying, "Thank you SO much for 
introducing me to his stuff. He's great." Yeah, baby. I did it all myself. 
Whoohoo. I rock. (Yes, I'm being facetious, but grinningly so.) And yes, if 
all goes well, we should be at the Thursday show in Philadelphia. (Tim-- will 
you join us? Lashings with wet noodles for my not contacting you about this 
show-- were you there?)

Go to www.petermulvey.com and look up his new tour dates. And if he'll be 
playing anywhere near you, run, run, run. Run with scissors if you have to. 
He's that good. 

But please: don't dance in front of the short people.