Outdoor shows that start before sunset are a different social object entirely. You can see everyone's face, which means you have to actually be there with them.
The music suits it. Two Texans making deliberately gentle, slightly blurry guitar songs about ordinary domestic tenderness — the sort of record people put on while cooking and then find themselves standing still for. Live and outdoors with downtown going up behind the stage, the quietness stops reading as small and starts reading as spacious. Emma Ogeir opens, working a similarly unhurried register, so the whole bill stays in one mood rather than jolting between them.
Doors at six, music at six-thirty, on a Thursday, finished early enough that the night is still fully available afterward.
October 22, Quartyard, 1301 Market St. Bring whoever you are comfortable being quiet next to. East Village keeps this lot programmed most of the year and half the city still thinks of it as a parking lot with a fence.
Outdoor shows that start before sunset are a different social object entirely. You can see everyone's face, which means you have to actually be there with them.
The music suits it. Two Texans making deliberately gentle, slightly blurry guitar songs about ordinary domestic tenderness — the sort of record people put on while cooking and then find themselves standing still for. Live and outdoors with downtown going up behind the stage, the quietness stops reading as small and starts reading as spacious. Emma Ogeir opens, working a similarly unhurried register, so the whole bill stays in one mood rather than jolting between them.
Doors at six, music at six-thirty, on a Thursday, finished early enough that the night is still fully available afterward.
October 22, Quartyard, 1301 Market St. Bring whoever you are comfortable being quiet next to. East Village keeps this lot programmed most of the year and half the city still thinks of it as a parking lot with a fence.
Outdoor shows that start before sunset are a different social object entirely. You can see everyone's face, which means you have to actually be there with them.
The music suits it. Two Texans making deliberately gentle, slightly blurry guitar songs about ordinary domestic tenderness — the sort of record people put on while cooking and then find themselves standing still for. Live and outdoors with downtown going up behind the stage, the quietness stops reading as small and starts reading as spacious. Emma Ogeir opens, working a similarly unhurried register, so the whole bill stays in one mood rather than jolting between them.
Doors at six, music at six-thirty, on a Thursday, finished early enough that the night is still fully available afterward.
October 22, Quartyard, 1301 Market St. Bring whoever you are comfortable being quiet next to. East Village keeps this lot programmed most of the year and half the city still thinks of it as a parking lot with a fence.