Gig Review: Mark Eitzel, Whelan's, 7th December (and what happened after the show)

You haven't seen self-deprecating 'til you've seen a Mark Eitzel concert. Eitzel is a great performer, but he's an unreliable guitarist. He makes mistakes. He makes jokes about making mistakes. Last night he threw coins into the audience as atonement for every screwed-up chord change. He did it 3 or 4 times. Then he threw coins on to the stage and told the audience to just pick them up themselves. Then he threw notes, a ten and a five. The last song he sang before the encore closed with the words 'I hope the worst is over'. With Eitzel, it's hard to tell if this was unintentional or sardonic.

His music is pretty stark, but he does the odd pop song, after a fashion. I'm not going to describe his music because I can't be bothered and I have complete editorial control over this blog, a privilege I really rather enjoy having. He was, and still is, in a San Francisco band called American Music Club, who had/have influences ranging from punk to folk to jazz (Past & present tense used because they split up 10 years ago but recently reformed. Sorry, why would you care about that detail?This complete editorial freedom thing will be my undoing)

His lyrics are mordant and heartbreaking and sometimes funny. He sings like his heart is rending in two right there on stage.The man could croon 'Simply having a wonderful Christmas time' and make it sound like a graveside lament.

We went for a drink after the gig, Justin(of justintonra.blogsot.com fame) and Julie and I. Some drunken asshole did his utmost to provoke us into fighting him. He sat at our table uninvited and made obnoxious interjections into our conversation. He carried a small notebook and a tiny pen (perhaps he was a journalist finally driven over the edge by his thankless, insecure, poorly paid job.No, I'm not feeling optimistic today). When he finally left us he dramatically flung his tiny pen on to the table in an act of something or other (defiance?anger?mindlessness?Option 3, I think). He swept away into the night to be an irritating prick somewhere else. Except that he'd forgotten his bag. He slouched back to the table half a minute after his theatrical departure, eyes fixed on the floor, and picked it up. Karma? Who knows?

I was early for the nitelink, so I took a walk along the river. There was a thick blanket of fog along the quays. Lights shimmered on the black water; the orange streetlamps, the white lights illuminating the bridges, the alternating red and green of traffic lights. It was a lovely scene. It's interesting how many people are still up at 1.45 a.m. There were lots of lights on in the apartments along the Liffey. I wondered what the people in those rooms were doing; reading, arguing with lovers, making love, drinking, working, playing marathon games of trivial pursuit , surfing the net, eating, talking on the phone, writing, having a party, watching tv, washing the dishes, smoking joints, flossing.... it was interesting to speculate what was happening in those illuminated rooms near 2 o'clock on a Wednesday morning. People have different schedules.

This entry has been longer and more circuitous than I'd intended it to be. If you're still reading, thanks. Now go and get some fresh air.