In the spirit of the season -- this time of boundless capitalism and ferocious retail warfare -- I'll be posting a few gift ideas. Below this entry, for example, there's a short review of Tom Brokaw's new book. It's not cheap, and not exactly a grabber, though it does have its moments. I won't pan it but won't push it, either. A much better bargain, at least for those who prefer music to journalistic yack, is a band called Red Molly. I recently encountered Red Molly by accident, and am glad I did. I can highly recommend the band to anyone who likes acoustic music that features female vocalists singing nearly peerless harmonies. These girls no doubt make the angels jealous. Here's a brief recounting of my encounter: It was a dark and windy night, and this Brooklyn-based trio had driven down to Richmond to play at a place called Babe's. There was strong competition in town: Robert Earl Keen and Vienna Teng. My original intent was to hear REK. Then, fate stepped in. Not too long before show time I saw an obscure listing of Red Molly's gig. Obscure indeed. It seems I was the only person in Richmond who saw the listing, for when I slipped by Babe's a bit before show time, there was no one there but the bartender. This was quite ominous. He was pleasant enough, but had the look of the disco fan about him. Soon, Red Molly showed up and went about preparing for the show. I found myself on those fabled horns of the proverbial dilemma. I could slip out into the night, go hear Robert Earl Keen, and Red Molly would never be the wiser. However, I've played to plenty of empty chairs in my time as a hack musician. It is a terrible feeling, often accompanied by slack CD sales. It would be a terrible thing if Red Molly drove all the way here and no one showed up to hear them. A terrible thing indeed. Go or stay -- that was the question. I introduced myself to the Dobro player, whose name is Abbie Gardner. She was quite nice, not the kind of girl you want to see drive long distances to play for disco-loving barmen. Then again, Robert Earl Keen doesn't come to town every day. Then it dawned on me -- if I bought a CD I would have done my duty and could move along with a clear conscience. As fate would have it there were two discs on sale -- a full length CD plus a four-song EP. I bought both and slipped into the night. Yet fate had not played its final card. While entertaining a shapely beer at a nearby bistro, I was suddenly bitten by the sharp pangs of conscience. How terrible it would be for these excellent musicians -- whom I knew by reputation -- to play solely for DIsco Dan. Besides that, Robert Earl Keen's show was by now standing room only. He didn't need me. I should also point out that Abbie is a babe, as are her bandmates, Laurie MacAllister and Carolann Solebello. The situation suddenly clarified itself: A guy like me can do lots worse than being seranaded in such circumstances. I beat it back to Babe's, paid the cover, and took my seat. There were still plenty available. When the show started the audience consisted of me and a couple who had driven two hours for the show. Later recon discovered that Red Molly is accustomed to playing before large, and sometimes very large, audiences. Yet from the first note they played beautifully and without complaint for the three of us. (As the evening progressed a few people drifted in; by the third set there may have been ten of us altogether). I was reminded of passages from a book about Bill Monroe, who had slow nights of his own, even after he was fairly famous. On one occasion, the book noted, there were only two people at a show, yet Monroe and his band performed as if at Carnegie Hall. So Red Molly's in good company. It was a night I'll always remember. You can find their discs at www.redmolly.com, and can buy both for less than you'd pay for Brokaw's tome. Indeed, you'll have enough left over for a few pints, which you can tip in the direction of Brooklyn. Later this week, my unsolicited views on the latest toy craze: Rollerblading Jesus.
