There was an article posted recently about the potential pitfalls of going to a show alone. There was a lot of truth hidden in the piece, once you got past the satire. Being solo at a show is something I experience at least once a month, so I was able to relate to the author’s observations. That being said, I am usually completely comfortable being alone in a room full of people. There is an undeniably positive social aspect about to going to a show with friends, but I have yet to find a direct correlation between who I’m with and how much I enjoy a particular band’s performance. In fact, once the music starts, the person standing next to me is entirely irrelevant. So when I decided to buy a single ticket to see Lucinda Williams at the Ogden Theatre, I didn’t think twice about how I would feel being there by myself. As it turned out, I found myself in an uncomfortable situation. For the first time in my life, I felt completely out of step with those around me.

The world was somehow askew on Sunday night. It was the end of the Halloween weekend and the clocks had just been turned back. It got dark early and it was colder than it should’ve been. I got in a minor accident on Friday night and I was admittedly feeling the effects of my bruised skull, but Colfax seemed to be muted as I walked from the Cheeky Monk to the theatre. My uneasy feeling was only heightened when I entered the venue and realized I was the youngest face in the crowd…and that everyone was staring at my black eye and various lacerations. I had accidentally arrived a couple hours early, so I made my way to the balcony to find somewhere to sit (hide) in the darkness while waiting for the opening band. I literally felt like a stranger in a venue I’d visited so many times before. As I sat there, nursing the only beer I would drink all night, I couldn’t help but feel like a character in one of William’s songs.

The hands on the clock ticked by slowly as I eavesdropped on the various conversations going on around me, before finding solace in my own thoughts. At around 8:00pm The Kenneth Brian Band brought me out of my head with some country-fused southern rock that was entertaining while it lasted — taking the crowd to Alabama, then down to Mexico, then back home — before leaving the stage way too soon. They left me alone again…in the room full of people. It wasn’t until almost 40 minutes later that Lucinda Williams took the stage. She opened things up (solo, with a guitar and her songbook) with “Blessed”, before bringing out the heaviest cowboy drummer I have ever witnessed. Butch Norton literally beat the strangeness out of the night with sticks of steel. “Car Wheels On A Gravel Road” came early in the set, and within a few minutes of being on stage, Ms. Williams, Mr. Norton, Stuart Mathis and David Sutton made everything alright. I was no longer alone, my bruises no longer ached, and I felt back at home. Unfortunately, that feeling didn’t last long.

After “The Night’s Too Long” (made famous by Patty Loveless), Williams pulled out another early classic with “Drunken Angel”. Her ageless rasp made it sound like not a day had passed since she first recorded her ode to Blaze Foley. I had never seen her perform live before, so all those selections from the late-90’s were music to my ears. Those were the songs I had come to hear and they did not disappoint. I will always regret not seeing her back in the day, but Lucinda Williams has always been an old soul, so at 61-years-old, I doubt she’s all that much different than she was back then. Sutton brought out the stand-up bass for “Greenville”, then he left Williams alone to recite lyrics from a poem her father wrote on “Compassion”, before coming back out with an electric bass to assist her with “Lake Charles”. Master musicians and storytellers were at work on that stage and I was completely wrapped up in their world. It wasn’t until “Are You Down” turned into a jam session that I noticed the dancing girl in the row in front of me. That’s when things got weird again.

Dancing like you’re at Woodstock during a jam session is one thing, but continuing to do so through the slower songs is a little strange. The hippie shakes turned into something else as the night went on, coming to a peak during “Unsuffer Me”. It was during that bluesy, bloodied ballad from West that I became concerned about the dancing girl and her boyfriend(?). She was hanging onto his neck and jerking back and forth — flipping her hair and twisting her body in ways that reminded me of something from The Walking Dead. I was going to chalk it up to my own distorted view of the night until the girls next to me started laughing uncontrollably. “Unsuffer Me” is not a funny song, so they apologized when I glanced over, but there was no need because I had started laughing…and I couldn’t stop either. Everyone has the right to dance (or express themselves) any way they want at a concert, but something about the girl’s movements was just out of control. There is really no way to explain it. And while we were being distracted by what was happening in the balcony, Williams was having a coughing fit in the middle of the song. Everything seemed to have gone to shit in a matter of minutes and I wondered if I shouldn’t just call it a night. But I couldn’t deny myself the knowledge of what would happen next.

Williams held a quick conference with the band before apologizing for the hiccup. Then she made a complete recovery with “Essence” and “Joy”. The main set ended with “Honey Bee”, which turned into another incredible jam session, but by that point I couldn’t take the dancing girl anymore. Her spastic behavior had infected the couple behind her, who were now on their feet trying to keep up with whatever it was she was trying to do, but it was just too much of a distraction for me. She also had competition from an inebriated guy at the bar behind me. He was yelling at the bartender about how he forgot his glasses and couldn’t see anything. Then he tried to pick up casual conversation about snowboarding at the top of his voice…completely oblivious to those around him telling him to ‘shut the fuck up!’. It was all too much to take and I made my way downstairs to the main floor.

Things were much better down there. I spent the four song encore among people who were enjoying themselves in regular ‘concert-going’ fashion. One of my favorite songs, “Fruits Of My Labor”, ended up being the only song from World Without Tears, and Neil Young’s “Rockin’ in the Free World” was dedicated to the upcoming election. Then it was over and I was back on Colfax. As I walked to the car I reflected on the amazing set. Lucinda Williams is a true legend and I was happy to have finally seen her. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that something about the night had been wrong. The guy next to me at the crosswalk asked me if I “was trying to get up to something”. I hadn’t even seen him there before he spoke. I was on Colfax in the middle of the night, so I have a few guesses on what he was asking me, but all I could say was “Yes, I am trying to get home”. Those were the only words I had spoken in hours and they sounded like they were coming out of someone else’s mouth. A half hour later I was in bed asleep. I have never slept so hard.

Setlist:
Blessed
Car Wheels on a Gravel Road
The Night’s Too Long
Drunken Angel
Greenville
Compassion
Lake Charles
Blue
Are You Down
Something Wicked This Way Comes
Protection
Burning Bridges
Out Of Touch
Unsuffer Me
Essence
Joy
Honey Bee

Angel (Jimi Hendrix)
Fruits Of My Labor
Get Right With God
Rockin’ in the Free World (Neil Young)