Over The Rhine

08 Dec

“We need priests and pastors to remind us that someday we’re going to die and we need musicians and poets to remind us that we’re not dead yet.”
– G.K. Chesterton

Linford Dettweiler, of the band Over The Rhine, blessed us with these words during the course of our musical evening at the Great American Music Hall in San Francisco. It was truly a memorable experience for my wife and I. As we stood in line outside waiting for the doors to open, we struck up a conversation with the couple in front of us. It turns out that it was Linford’s sister and brother-in-law. We had a very nice, albeit brief conversation, and we felt as though we got invited to a family reunion, as many of Karin’s family was there that evening as well. It’s always nice to make real people out of those you idolize and admire so much. Once inside we found ourselves surrounded by an eclectic cast of the nicest characters you could share a concert with. We met an aspiring wine-maker, a former member of the San Francisco Philharmonic with a penchant for all things Wainwright (Loudon, Rufus, Lucy, etc), and a couple who offered to share their enormous plate of Nachos with us.

Lucy Wainwright Roche kicked the evening off with such a wit and charm. She set the tone for the evening, and told the most fascinating  stories in her songs.

To be honest, I was a little sad when I learned that they would be performing as a trio this evening, and that Mickey Grimm wouldn’t playing the drums. When I saw them in L.A. it was amazing. But as soon as they took the stage with Nick Radina on percussion, guitar, and cuatro, they reminded me that you don’t need a lot of instruments, when you’ve got a lot of heart and soul.

It was a combination of church and musical orgy. Linford played the piano like he was playing he hymns of all the tortured souls that came before us, in the bordello turned music hall that was our home for the evening. Karin sang the hell out of the songs, and brought us a little heaven on earth. I am thankful for musicians such as these, that offer up bits of their lives for us to entangle in our own. They remind us of our common humanity, and that even though I, and all my favorite people, are broken, we’re not dead yet.