The 9:30 Club

Reflecting on the current round-the-world Otway gigfest, I realise that I have not been going to a lot of live music recently. Ordinarily this is one of my main recreations (earlier in the year, I sent my pal Danny the Aging Hippy a text message saying: "I get all of my my energy from live music & beer!"), but somehow the schedule seems to have been a bit thin of late.... and I've been too distracted with other things.

However, I had some friends from out of town visiting last week, a young American couple who are teaching middle school in a provincial city a few hundred miles away; so I treated them to a show on their last night. It was a recently opened venue that I hadn't been to before, and has been much hyped as the city's first 'medium-sized venue'. The gig, alas, was something of a disappointment: a small, folksy band who were somewhat overwhelmed by the space, and gave a performance that was rather flat, lacking in passion, compared to previous years I 've seen them play here on more intimate stages. The club was a bit of a downer too: surly, unwelcoming staff, and a lone, undermanned, poorly stocked, and ludicrously overpriced bar. I'm not convinced that this city needs a medium-sized venue. It doesn't really have any 'big' bands, so the smaller, more characterful clubs are fine. Overseas bigshots can always find a concert hall or a gymnasium to play in.

My friend Caren, however, aptly commented that the space (if not the ambience) reminded her of the 9:30 in her home of Washington, D.C., and I grew momentarily a little wistful. I was taken there for the first time this year, for a farewell night out with the University buddy I had been staying with in Alexandria over the summer. The music was disappointing on that occasion also (it was some comically camp Canadian singer-songwriter whose name I entirely forget: he clearly fancies himself as the next Elton John [though the original is still doing fine, as far as I know; and I don't think the world is ready for two of them at once]; all jauntily mournful ballads with plinky-plonky piano; one irritatingly catchy - but otherwise unremarkable - 'hit' amongst them; the others all sounding more or less identical, but with less memorable lyrics..... Sir Elton he may be, or become; Bernie Taupin he ain't, and never will be!); earlier in the month, we could have had the gorgeous Katie Melua; later, we could have had the goddess, Chrissie Hynde; but we got stuck with a geeky Elton-wannabe. Oh well.

Live music is still a good night out, even if it's a bit shite. And I was very taken with the club. I heard from someone that it had recently been voted the best live music venue in the States - that seems a bit of a tall order (surely there have got to be at least a dozen similar clubs on the West Coast? And New York??), but I can almost believe it.

It suffers slightly from an unwelcoming location in one of the more rundown parts of town; but inside, it is an ideal size, a well laid-out space, and has a great sound system. Also - its chief advantage over my dismal local start-up - it has two or three well-tended bars (expensive, yes, but not oppressively so). My friend and I got agreeably tanked up on generously poured Jack Daniel's chasers - which mellowed our homophobic, anti-Canadian, plinky-plonk averse prejudices.

I am looking forward to a return there.... next year, or the year after..... whenever I next escape from my Third World exile. (Does anyone know why it's called the 9:30? Time of the first band on stage??)

I doubt if I shall be returning to the overpriced, atmosphere-free barn here again in a hurry.... or ever. Not unless Radiohead decide to play here, anyway.