Soi Disantra: It Could Have Been Such a Great Evening…

May 13, 2005

It Could Have Been Such a Great Evening…

Everything was in place. Free tickets to the Wizards second round playoff game against the Heat, which would hopefully end at the perfect time allowing me to get the Black Cat right as current (and, admittedly, somewhat surprising) faves British Sea Power hit the stage. This was shaping up to be a quite memorable night. But it didn’t quite turn out that way. What happened? Let’s find out…

There’s nothing like a well-executed plan. OK, that’s a lie. There are hundreds, probably many thousands of things better than a well-executed plan. But that doesn’t mean one can’t be appreciated. The evening got off to a fine start with some perfectly planned logistics. Park the car at the Black Cat, meet BV there, hop on the Metro, get to the game, try to avoid lines, get to the seats before tip off – it all worked perfectly. Not only did I find the space directly in front of the Black Cat, but we were able to avoid the half hour wait at will call to get our tickets (it’s amazing what happens when you tell people that you're with a high-profile publication such as SD) and found our seats early enough to eat food and be done with it before the game. And the true pre-game highlight was running into my former hero, from Mamma Lucia in Bethesda. The rapport I had with this man after getting pizza from him every Tuesday for two years was truly something special. I’d walk in and he’d yell, “David, how you doing?!” I felt so welcome and at home there. And the pizza is still the best I’ve found in this area, and honestly, it was better than anything I had in Italy. I like a doughy slice. Anyway, we had a very brief chat, I promised to visit him, it was all quite exciting.

The game got off to a promising start. On the way to the game I predicted that Shaq would leave early with an injury. Turns out I was giving him too much credit – Diesel didn’t even suit up. Well, that’s not entirely true. As you can see, Shaq was most definitely suited up. Just not in any way that would help the Heat on the court. Still, a quarter-kidneyed Alonzo Mourning is better then Brendan Haywood (sorry Brendan, you’ll get there soon, I’m proud of you this year), so while it was nice not to have to deal with Shaq, it didn’t automatically make it an easy win. Despite the best attempts by “Fuckin’” Jared Jeffries (that’s his official new nickname) to sabotage the Wiz early on, they held a two-point lead at the half. There was room for some cautious optimism. In non-game news, I remarked to BV that I was officially retiring the “good from far but far from good” line about the Wizards Dance Team in favor of my new every game line –“Man, he is ripped – related to G-Man. Also, I made friends with our usher, who got on my good side by laughing at one of my stupid heckles. Sad to say, though, that we would be leaving him and the 400 level to head down to the club level for the second half. Once the Wizards brass found out that SD was in the house, they couldn’t let me languish in the nosebleeds.

It was all downhill from there. I try not to be superstitious, but when it comes to sports I sometimes can’t help it. Blame it on my dad, who made me switch seats constantly while watching sporting events and has actually, legitimately blamed outcomes of sporting events on my behavior. Anyway, I figured the Wizards were only up by two, so it wasn’t anything too drastic. Moving down the club level did get us closer to the Wizards Dance Team, which made it damn tempting to resurrect my line, but I didn’t want to pull a Michael Jordan with it. It looked like things were going great, as the Wiz jumped out to a 60-52 lead a few minutes into the half … but then it all went to hell. A 13-0 run which was eventually a 22-5 run put the Heat up by 9 and the Wizards fought back a few times in the fourth quarter, but three points was the closest they got. No amount of towel-waving or chants of “De-fense!!!” were enough to get them back into the game, even without Shaq in the mix. That’s because…

Dwyane Wade can play basketball better than just about anyone else in the world. Way back in November when I wrote about a Heat-Wiz game I watched on TV, I said, “There is no doubt I’d rather have Dwyane Wade than Gilbert Arenas. In fact, at this point I’m not so sure there are more than five or six players I’d rather have than Dwyane Wade.” Now, early in the season I was still not sold on Gilbert. I’m sold on him now. Granted he was terrible last night, the Gilbert of old, dribbling around like a madman, out of control, firing up ill-advised shots with 15 seconds left on the shot clock. Still, he’s proven himself and is on his way to becoming a perennial all-star. I will buy his ridiculously awesome throwback jersey and wear it proudly. But Dwyane Wade … man. I thought I was doing MZ a favor this year and last when I made sure to take her to the MCI Center when LeBron came into town. But I think I probably should have been taking her to see Dwyane. We went to see LeBron take on the Wizards at the end of the regular season in a game they had to win to get into the playoffs. The Heat without Shaq and the Cavs are very similar teams. LeBron couldn’t get it done. The entire second half last night was basically Dwyane single-handedly dismantling the Wizards defense. Wizards hit a huge three to pull within 5 and get the crowd into a frenzy? Dwyane calmly goes downcourt, draws double coverage and lobs an alley-oop to Udonis Haslem. During the last few minutes of the game every Heat possession was Wade taking down the shot clock then using his sick crossover to create an open shot that he’d no doubt sink. His killer instinct is already there. He’s like Kobe, without the whole sticking his dick in your ass against your will thing.

No time to be depressed, there’s rock and roll to be seen. It was a disappointing loss, no doubt, but the fact remains that if you told me I’d be at a second round playoff game at MCI Center back in November, I’d be ecstatic. The series isn’t over yet, of course, as the Wizards could win the next four in a row, although the chances of that happening are about equal to myself being named president of the Ed Kowalczyk Fan Club. (Speaking of, do you think the president of the Ed Kowalczyk Fan Club is also a member?) I made the crucial decision to leave the game with 50 seconds still remaining (didn’t miss a single point, as it turned out) in order to ensure timely arrival to the Black Cat. What followed was another logistical success story. Easy exit from MCI Center, a short wait for the train, a brisk walk from Metro to the club, threw my giveaway towel into my uber-conveniently parked car, got upstairs and got a beer right as the band hit the stage. Absolutely perfect timing. Not a wasted second. Unfortunately, that proved to be one of the highpoints of my time at the Black Cat.

Good songs, fine performances, just something missing. I had heard tales of BSP shows in the past where they come out decked in World War I gear and stuffed animals and faux-foliage adorn the stage. I was actually relieved to see that wasn’t the case this time. Over-the-top gimmickry and I don’t mesh. And while their first album could, I suppose, lend itself to that type of gimmickry, the more subdued Open Season doesn’t. It was my first time seeing them, so this is pure conjecture, but I’ll say that they sort of miss all of their gimmicks. There was a certain rambunctiousness to their first album, but everything about last night’s performance was very streamlined. Again, this works with the new songs, but they played a bunch of tunes from The Decline of… that were just sort of … there. Nothing bad by any means, but I felt it was sort of like watching a band practice. I have no problem watching a band play good songs without jumping all over the place, but for some reason there was still just something missing.

Lead guitarist Noble -- shown here in a past foliage outfit -- makes this band. His lead guitar lines did not suffer at all; in fact I was focused on him the entire performance. I’m not sure if he’s all that similar to Joey Santiago in style, but he means as much to BSP songs as Joey did (does, I guess?) to Pixies songs? A lot of going up and down on the same string, throwing in some cool bendy things. Everyone else in the band seemed to have much more flair for the dramatic, but Noble just sort of stared at his guitar and did his thing. Good stuff. His work on “Remember Me” is some of my favorite guitar playing of the last few years. He made sure there was at least something interesting going on at all times.

It doesn’t take much to get me drunk. I was at this show on my own, so when that’s the case, I always feel more comfortable with something in my hand. Seeing as how I have long since given up smoking, that thing cannot be a cigarette, so it must be a beer. Having officially switched over from bottled Amstel to tap PBR, that means I’m getting four extra ounces with each drink. Since I had eaten my normal amount for the day (3/4 of a turkey sammich, one arena pretzel) and I can’t handle alcohol to begin with, if I have two drinks within 45 minutes or so, I really start to feel it. So after about 35 minutes of their set, when I had downed 1.5 beers, I started to feel a little wobbly. They had just finished playing almost all of my favorite songs of theirs, seemed to be heading into the “quiet” part of the set, the frat types around me were getting on my nerves, so I figured this would be a good opportunity to head to the back of the room and take advantage of some of the Black Cat’s ample seating. It was starting to remind me of my last solo Black Cat experience, when I saw Kings of Leon and got really hammered. And then it got me thinking that maybe Kings of Leon weren’t a bad comp for British Sea Power. Both bands are certainly over-gimmicked, with definite regional lore helping their backstory. The NME fuckin’ adores both of them. (At least I assume they adore BSP. They do, right?) There are plenty of reasons to dislike them, but they just have good songs. And so those songs weren’t all that interesting last night. Hey, it happens. I still think Open Season, even with all of its dramatic flourishes, affected vocals and lyrics such as “I wrote elegiac stanzas for you” – three things I wouldn’t expect to be elements of an album I enjoy – is a fine listen. Perhaps not quite as good as the first one, but not too far off. I think I’d take them over The Libertines if I could choose just one trendy current British band. And I think I’ve written about 2,000 words, so I’ll stop now.

--DM--

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May 13, 2005

It Could Have Been Such a Great Evening…

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