The Saxon Pub feels like home. And because of it, I'm becoming a concert snob.
There's just something extra-ordinary about the place. I mean, I like that it's ordinary and extraordinary too.
Last night, I got to watch Zach Nytomt for the first time. And, yes I spelled his name correctly. He said, "It's like New York To Montana."
He sang this Troubadour song. He said he wrote it on a smelly cat pee couch in a garage hiding away from noisy college roommates.
He told stories about working on 30-something acres within King ranch.
His voice captured the sweet, the ugly, the all-of-it in life.
His military jacket was iced with a French flag and his Cherokee-faced imprinted necklace made me think he had a few more stories to tell.
The interesting thing too in this young rare talent was his humility and patience to tell the stories like we were his first audience and like he had all of the time in the world.
One story he told was of a "vegetable" song inspired by the meeting of his parents. He said his dad came from Sweden to Dallas, met his mom, and never went back. The song celebrates living on little. He laughed and said "It could also be about going to Whole Foods (and celebrating the) organic" vegetables.
His songs celebrated love, faith, long-term trust, ouches, triumph and are-we-there-yet kind of lyrics.
On the web, he is compared to Ryan Adams, but, I think he's actually better. I'd actually compare him to a younger, hipper version of John Mayer.
After his gig, he gathered up his stage gear with a swift kick of his backpack and said hello to Bob Schneider's crew.
Musicians like Zach and Bob are the reasons why I love watching concerts at the Pub.
And adding to the talent, is this place. This dark pub space smells like wood, old furniture, and music history.
The wooden chair feet scrape across the floor. The laminate marble-masked uneven tables do their jobs to hold the cardboard 'reserved' signs in place.
The wooden pew booths have just enough light for finding a pen to write a song request.
The stage is one foot from the first table. I can actually see spit fly.
When the show starts, there will be an inch of planned concrete space for the waitress to squeeze through.
The entire room feels as tight as a college dorm room.
And, the other thing is there's this wacky kind of dividing line between local regulars and "guests."
There are those that came for the first time, nervous about where to sit, how and just what to do.
Then, there are those who come and sit but don't really smile the entire time.
There are those that can't stop taking pictures. They flash their phones, post their status updates and shout out their music requests.
Then, there are the those that have been coming a while. They no longer take pictures or make requests. They don't need to. They know they'll be back the next week.
It's also fun to meet new music lovers inside this wooden-panel treehouse club.
Last week, I ran into a Canadian. He had traveled hours just to be there to celebrate his birthday. He was glowing. He was giddy.
And, I sat with a professor for the third time. We traded stories about great books. She traveled four hours to be there. She came with her husband. He was silly. He made us laugh. She said she was coming again in two weeks, and so, I, of course, got tickets to come back too.
And, I met a young woman who had traveled to New Zealand. She gave me a virtual tour in pictures.
I usually arrive alone, and to be truthful, I'm this ultra-introverted soul of sorts, and it's actually out of my comfort zone, but once the music starts flying, I don't feel like I'm alone. It's like hanging out in the living room with new family members. At the end of the evening, it's like we were related all along.
The best part of the show is when I see all of the musicians find their groove- -literally.
It may not actually be a planned moment- -that moment of "It," but to be there when "it" all comes together . . . what a moment.
A former boss of mine said it pretty well the other day.
When I arrived at the pub, I couldn't help but to brag a little with a boasting text: "Bob Schneider is up next." And, Bob is his favorite artist.
He said, "You had me at Saxon pub."
I agreed. That sums it up.
There's just something extra-ordinary about the place. I mean, I like that it's ordinary and extraordinary too.
Last night, I got to watch Zach Nytomt for the first time. And, yes I spelled his name correctly. He said, "It's like New York To Montana."
He sang this Troubadour song. He said he wrote it on a smelly cat pee couch in a garage hiding away from noisy college roommates.
 |
| Zach Nytomt plays at the Saxon Pub |
His voice captured the sweet, the ugly, the all-of-it in life.
His military jacket was iced with a French flag and his Cherokee-faced imprinted necklace made me think he had a few more stories to tell.
The interesting thing too in this young rare talent was his humility and patience to tell the stories like we were his first audience and like he had all of the time in the world.
One story he told was of a "vegetable" song inspired by the meeting of his parents. He said his dad came from Sweden to Dallas, met his mom, and never went back. The song celebrates living on little. He laughed and said "It could also be about going to Whole Foods (and celebrating the) organic" vegetables.
His songs celebrated love, faith, long-term trust, ouches, triumph and are-we-there-yet kind of lyrics.
On the web, he is compared to Ryan Adams, but, I think he's actually better. I'd actually compare him to a younger, hipper version of John Mayer.
After his gig, he gathered up his stage gear with a swift kick of his backpack and said hello to Bob Schneider's crew.
Musicians like Zach and Bob are the reasons why I love watching concerts at the Pub.
And adding to the talent, is this place. This dark pub space smells like wood, old furniture, and music history.
The wooden chair feet scrape across the floor. The laminate marble-masked uneven tables do their jobs to hold the cardboard 'reserved' signs in place.
The wooden pew booths have just enough light for finding a pen to write a song request.
The stage is one foot from the first table. I can actually see spit fly.
When the show starts, there will be an inch of planned concrete space for the waitress to squeeze through.
The entire room feels as tight as a college dorm room.
And, the other thing is there's this wacky kind of dividing line between local regulars and "guests."
There are those that came for the first time, nervous about where to sit, how and just what to do.
Then, there are those who come and sit but don't really smile the entire time.
There are those that can't stop taking pictures. They flash their phones, post their status updates and shout out their music requests.
Then, there are the those that have been coming a while. They no longer take pictures or make requests. They don't need to. They know they'll be back the next week.
It's also fun to meet new music lovers inside this wooden-panel treehouse club.
Last week, I ran into a Canadian. He had traveled hours just to be there to celebrate his birthday. He was glowing. He was giddy.
And, I sat with a professor for the third time. We traded stories about great books. She traveled four hours to be there. She came with her husband. He was silly. He made us laugh. She said she was coming again in two weeks, and so, I, of course, got tickets to come back too.
And, I met a young woman who had traveled to New Zealand. She gave me a virtual tour in pictures.
I usually arrive alone, and to be truthful, I'm this ultra-introverted soul of sorts, and it's actually out of my comfort zone, but once the music starts flying, I don't feel like I'm alone. It's like hanging out in the living room with new family members. At the end of the evening, it's like we were related all along.
The best part of the show is when I see all of the musicians find their groove- -literally.
It may not actually be a planned moment- -that moment of "It," but to be there when "it" all comes together . . . what a moment.
When I arrived at the pub, I couldn't help but to brag a little with a boasting text: "Bob Schneider is up next." And, Bob is his favorite artist.
He said, "You had me at Saxon pub."
I agreed. That sums it up.
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