9/18/10 - local lounge singers

You walk into a gritty bar with a clever name and a downtown address. Inside, the familiar smells of Carhart coveralls, draft beer and cement dust greet you, as well as flickering neon signs on the wall, uneven, beadboard wainscoting, and comfortable faces that have seen a bit of life. Your table is covered with red checked oilcloth and a flickering hurricane lamp. When you walk in, the singer and her accompanist are talking with people at various tables, asking people about their lives, their jobs, their kids. Cigarette smoke trails in at the door from people smoking on the streetside terrace outside, though smoking is banned in the bar. Boutique style reproductions of old headline singers (who probably never came here) hang on the wall--a young Bob Dylan, Ella Fitzgerald.

The singer is as personable on the stage as she was at the tables between sets, chatting about her kids, the synchronized swim meets she had as a teenager, while counting out the next song. She scats like the pro she is, and she and the guitarist pour their everyday souls into the music, helping us soar for a few moments, above the bar stools, hair spray, painted walls, road construction outside, and the Saturday night lights in a quiet downtown.