at The Knitting Factory 8/27/02
with Bastard Sons of Johnny Cash
by bettie black
I love my boyfriend more than anything in the world, except possibly Jesse Dayton. If I were stuck on a desert island, I wouldn�t want any CDs (for the obvious reason of needing, in that case, a CD player and probably a D-cell battery tree), just Jesse, hopefully with his guitar.
A few years ago, I didn�t even like country music. That slowly began to change when Mike Ness released his solo albums. In November of 1999, we managed to get tickets to a small venue show of his. The opening band was called Road Kings. I had a spiritual revelation the minute they played �Hotwired.� In addition to the amazing music, Jesse, the singer/guitarist, winked at me from the stage. I was in heaven.
Flash forward to June of 2001. Temporarily single and in Chicago, I borrowed my roommate�s car to go to a show, because Jesse Dayton was playing. After the
The following October I went to another show. He remembered me and kissed my cheek. I think I swooned, and I certainly haven�t stopped telling my friends, �Jesse Dayton kissed me.�
In February of this year, my reconciled boyfriend and I went to a Los Angeles show with some friends of ours. It was at McCabe�s Guitar Shop in Santa Monica, which was an experience unto itself. After the fantastic show (which was recorded � hopefully we�ll be seeing a live album soon) I said hello, but didn�t identify myself as �the girl from Chicago.� I don�t know why.
Last night the boyfriend and I (now cohabitating again) went to the Knitting Factory on Hollywood Boulevard and saw Jesse once again. We were accompanied by our fabulous friends Cassie, who generously paid for our tickets, and Geoff, who I cannot quite place as a country fan (or, conversely, not a country fan).
The show kicked ass, though at this point I would be shocked if anything else were the case. It was, though, particularly good, even if we were not allowed to smoke (stupid California).
Someone from the (local) opening act, whose name I did not catch and music I did not like, gave my boyfriend his drink tickets, and we had some Rolling Rock, which is disgusting. The (touring) opening act, Bastard Sons of Johnny Cash, were quite enjoyable, though they might, as my boyfriend wittily remarked, consider changing their name to Bastard Sons of Neil Young.
Before the show started, I saw Jesse wandering around, and although I know from experience how approachable he is, I kept quiet. As I say, my boyfriend is ruining my street cred. I am no longer an adoring fan, but am half of a couple. Normally (i.e. when I was single) I would stick around after the show, chat, maybe even flirt, but last night the Taller Half shook Jesse�s hand, said �Thanks,� and was ready to leave. Mind you, it was a work night, but I suspect that he�d have acted the same on a weekend. I�m not upset with him, but with myself. If I wanted to say howdy, why didn�t I break rank and just march up to Jesse on my own? Why did I wait for my boy to accompany me? Clearly, I am too much in love.
But enough about my beloved (who I predict will be, in the coming weeks, hitting the Royal Crown rather heavily). Last night I saw some excellent live music.
The set opened with Train Of Dreams, as it has every time I�ve seen him � unless he opened with Abilene once. I�d tell you the rest of the songs they played, but I was in a state of euphoria and don�t remember. It was an ad-libbed set list with a lot of covers. I do remember the best rendition of Arkansas Chrome (an original) that I have ever heard. He fucked up a few of the lyrics, and it was still the best. The pedal steel player, Kevin (whose last name I didn�t catch), played what sounded to me like a new track for the song. But I might be crazy. The drummer, Eric Tucker (Jesse�s best friend since they were four, or in 6th grade, or possibly high school � the story changes � and the cutest drummer on earth), played the show with no shoes and only one sock. I don�t know many drummers, but a few have expressed a preference to play shoeless. The single sock thing was new to me, but makes sense. I think. I�m not a drummer. The bassist, Charlie Sanders (he told me once to call him Chuck), played most of the show on an electric bass, which confused me, but sounded just fine (and by �just fine� I do mean magnificent).
I could go on about the music for pages. But, as with anything that is this enjoyable for me, it is kind of a blur. It was during the set, even � when Jesse asked for requests, I couldn�t remember the names of any of his songs, even though in my car I know all of the words. I know they covered �Just What I Needed� and made it sound good, and I know he played �Old Faithful� and introduced it as �a song about going through the Big D � and I don�t mean Dallas.� It�s funny; I know perfectly well that it�s a song about divorce, but when I listen to it, I hear a sweet love song. I hope if I ever get a divorce, it�s as nice as that song. I also know that they played my favorite medley as their encore. I don�t know the names of the songs (except �Folsom Prison Blues�), or even if they�re all covers, but I love them.
About halfway through the show, my premise for this entire essay became a moot point. I don�t know how to explain that except to quote �Never Started Living� by Jesse Dayton, and dedicate it to my sweetheart.
Crazy ways they're beating me black and blue | And I guess I never started living 'til I started loving you
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