Albany, NY – “Soucy Says” -Valentine’s – May 20, 2000
New York Route 7, headed west in the van, Chris Soucy (Guitarist) reporting
From the Best Western Rensselaer Inn in Troy, New York it’s only a fifteen-minute drive to Valentine’s in Albany. But Troy is a historic city. Perhaps not experiencing its glory days right now, but once upon a time…
Sally and I had breakfast with her stepfather, Jim Hart, and his son, Amen, at a greasy spoon called Duncan’s, where everything seems to be served with a side of bacon whether you order it or not. Eggs over-medium are served over-easy and runny just because and the coffee is the color of a goldfish tank in need of a good cleaning. That’s just the way it is. That’s just the way it needs to be, too.
Jim spent some college days here a while back. He actually painted the polyurethane finish behind the bar at Holmes and Watson, where Sal and Kyle had lunch yesterday, which also happened to be Kyle’s wedding anniversary. (Sorry to keep your hubby away from you, Traci, but his services are required on the road here with us for a while longer.)
Jim told us a little of the Albany/Troy area history over breakfast. Once a thriving industrial area, its iron ore and textiles traveled to other cities via the Erie Canal in horse and ox-drawn barges. It’s the birthplace of “Uncle Sam.” Uncle Sam was the name of a meat packing company that shipped food supplies south to Union soldiers during the Civil War, and the name Uncle Sam has been synonymous with patriotism ever since. Troy is also called the Collar City because back in the day when shirt collars were produced separately from the shirts onto which they were clipped, they were made here in numbers great enough for the city to build its reputation on them. Beautiful old brownstones and big granite libraries and courthouses line the streets, but most of the industry is now gone and empty storefronts seem to be the order of the day. That’s what we learned over breakfast this morning.
Last night’s show at Valentine’s once again proved the old saying that you can’t judge a book by its cover. It seems to be a phenomenon we encounter over and over again on the road this year. We walk into a club at five o’clock to set up our gear, look around and say, “Yikes, another dreary black box of a bar.” Then of course it turns out to be a great gig.
Apparently, there’s a little bit of construction going on at Valentine’s. A large corner of the room just next to the stage is blocked off by raw plywood. Maybe it has always been that way, but it has that “Men Working, Please Wear Your Hardhat” look about it. I imagine that most nights there’s a pretty heavy rock band taking the stage at Valentine’s and thrashing at an earsplitting volume while young rockers, dressed like vampires, tattooed and pierced in urban tribal fashion drink, cruise, pose, scam, deal, and fall down the stairs. But last night they set up chairs for a somewhat tamer, older crowd and a triple bill of acts fronted by acoustic guitar-playing songwriters.
The opening acts were terrific. Two guys named Tao and Johnny played first. They’re from the Northampton, Massachusetts area and they played a blend of old-time roots country, blues, and bluegrass with some modern touches. Our new favorite guy is Stephen Kellogg, who played in the middle spot. Stephen is also from Northampton. He’s a terrific singer, a great songwriter and we all became instant friends with him and his girlfriend, Kirsten, who bravely ran the merchandise table all night. Stephen and I chatted over the relative merits of different types of pickup systems for acoustic guitars all night. Sally invited him to join us on stage to sing a verse on our cover of the Stealer’s Wheel tune, “Stuck in the Middle with You” and on Sally’s “Happy Now.” Stephen happens to be a terrific kazoo player and he and I joked about having him whip it out for a solo without telling Sally about it beforehand, but we felt it was best for him to maybe leave the kazoo in his pocket after all. I’ll bet a kazoo solo would sound GREAT on “Happy Now,” but these kinds of intricate complicated parts played on such sophisticated instruments need to be carefully rehearsed, you know. Next time.
The loudest and rowdiest contingent in the crowd last night was a bunch of folks from the Hatch family. Once upon a time, years ago, I worked as an elementary school teacher with a fiery, crazy woman named Gigi, who happens to be from a huge clan of brothers, sisters, and in-laws spread out over the continent. Gigi and her family members Nanette, Natalie, Joseph, others whose names I can’t recall, their assorted boyfriends, girlfriends, spouses, and drinking buddies have now come to many of our shows: Hoboken, Saratoga Springs, a few different shows in New York City and again last night in Albany. Gigi came to gigs of mine in New Mexico back in the day. I even did a recording session with her husband, Jon, once. These folks have been great fans of the band. The fact that they are a whole family of gorgeous blondes and redheads (except maybe for Joseph) doesn’t seem to bother any of the boys in the group either. Thanks for all of your support. I think we’ll just set up and play in your living room next time, as long as you promise to take it easy on the martinis and stop shouting for guitar solos before the show even begins, OK?
We’ve been taking lots of photos these days pictures of the musicians, fans, and staff we meet at various venues, snapshots of 28-pound kitty cats named Jerky that live in Boston, pictures of other kitties that live in bars, more and more photos of Kenny sleeping in the van with a book on his chest. We’ll try to post some of this craziness on the website soon. It may help you begin to understand just exactly why we are the way we are and why we behave the way we do. [From the road, Chris Soucy, Guitarist/elf/resident smart-ass]