I really like it here; I’m quite attached to it…

I love good weekends. This was the kind that makes me glad I live in Nashville. FRIDAY We had dinner with some great friends who we don’t see nearly enough. Went to dinner at my new favorite place, The Family Wash. We were really looking forward to introducing them to this place… they have great food and a huge drink menu, and live music every night. Last time we went it was the Gypsy Hombres, who were jazzy and soothing and QUIET, which is pretty important in such a tiny place. I’d read in the Scene that a band called the Plastic Rulers would be there this time, so off we went. We arrived before the music started, and were seated at the only empty table, which also happened to be right next to the stage. I didn’t think much of it, reasoning that even though my ears were six inches from the monitor, we would be just fine. Now the band was great… the singer had a cool, Jason White-ish voice and they had a funky americana vibe. Had we been six yards, rather than six inches, from the stage, we probably would have really enjoyed it. As it was, we couldn’t hear each other (or the waitress) at all, and we left with both ringing ears and cramped necks from looking straight up the bands’ noses. But the food was good (vegetarian shepherd’s pie, YUM) and our friends really liked the place. It’s always a little nervewracking to introduce people to something you really love, so I’m glad they weren’t turned off by the music or the lack of meatloaf. SATURDAY Saturday was lazy and fabulous. We slept in, ate some lunch, and cruised the used record stores and thrift shops. We cleaned up at Phonoluxe… David Mead, Todd Snider and the first Wallflowers album, which has both mine (6th Avenue Heartache) and Aaron’s (Three Marlenas) favorite WF songs. I was a little disappointed this morning, though, when I popped in David Mead only to find that the clerk had accidentally put a Matt Redman CD in the case. Oops. Yummy Mexican food for dinner and a lazy evening watching SNL and Austin City Limits. SUNDAY Sunday morning we had our first meeting of The Rock, which went really well. I’m excited to see what happens next. Sunday afternoon was a fabulous mix of reading, watching football and napping in the big chair. And then… BEN FOLDS!!! That’s right, folks. After my big fat whinefest on Friday, Aaron surprised me with tickets! I don’t know how he managed not to tell me, I’ve been talking about this show for weeks. And all that time he had tickets, didn’t tell me, and pulled off a sweet surprise. This is why he rules. The show was great, owing mostly to the fact that it was Ben Folds, and it was at the Ryman. He did all my favorites, including the songs about his kids, Gracie and Still Fighting. So pretty. The only song I missed was The Luckiest, which was a letdown. And they did Bitches Ain’t Shit, for which I do not have love in my heart. I get that it’s funny, and the much-younger-than-I-expected crowd was totally into it, but it’s just meh for me. Plus, they did the exact same thing when we saw him with Weezer in July, so it didn’t even have the novelty of the first time. Other than that, I give the song selection two thumbs up. The crowd, on the other hand, I could have done without. We somehow managed to buy seats between two groups of 16-year-old fanboys, whose spent most of the evening in a woo-off during the quiet moments of the show. These guys probably love Ben Folds for Army, and One Angry Dwarf, and Rockin’ the Suburbs, and I get that. Those songs are totally fun and I sang at the top of my lungs along with everyone else. But part of the greatness that is Mr. Folds is the quiet songs. The aforementioned songs for his kids. The Luckiest. Even Brick, which I personally could go either way on. These songs are amazingly personal. It is highly disrespectful (not to mention seriously annoying) when the man onstage is singing about his little girl and the guy next to me is screaming “Rock This Bitch!” Also, and this goes not only for Ben Folds but EVERYONE: I am so over the encore. We know the band is coming back, the house lights are still down and the bass player took his guitar with him. Beating on the pews at the Ryman is not going to make them come back out. Trying to start a chant of BEN! FOLDS! is not going to persuade them. Do you think they’re sitting backstage, listening to the crowd, confused about what we want from them? It’s a good thing you’re yelling his name – he might have thought we wanted The Fray to come back out. (Trust me, we didn’t.) He hasn’t thrown the stool at the keys yet. He’s coming back. All in all, a good few days capped off by a great show. It’s weekends like this that make rainy Monday mornings tough.