Tonight I went to see Tracy Grammer at the Youngstown Cultural Arts Thingamabobber, which was a good move on my part, even though it is in West Seattle, more or less, which might as well be a different country.

She was the second in a new series; Ellis Paul is going to be there next month, and my excitement regarding this cannot be textually rendered. The only way I could be more excited is if Vance Gilbert was coming with him. (Confidential to Vance: Seriously. Seattle. I know you know where it is. What is the deal?)

Tracy was lovely. She grows every time I see her. I saw her a few times with Dave of course, and at least once with Jim Henry after Dave passed. This is a solo tour, and it suits her. I just wish the audience had been more responsive. Oh Seattle. People who know Seattle audiences, take that experience and apply it to an audience where I easily was the youngest person (at least until you got to fourth graders). Dead silence huge portions of the time. I cheered into silence for Falcon Ridge Folk Festival and for Richard Shindell, and when she got to Townes Van Zandt, who merits the applause of those two combined and then some, I gave up and clapped quietly to myself. They got me, those passive fuckers.

She mentioned Townes because she closed with “Pancho & Lefty”, a song I am perhaps a little obsessed with. On the bus home I listened to Gillian Welch & David Rawlings covering it at a show that’s now ten years old. I thought of how much I love seeing them play, their awkward happy little banter & the way Gillian bobs when she plays guitar, and how they haven’t come to Seattle in ages. I would pay a ridiculous amount of money to see them, no lie. Speaking of artists I would pay a ridiculous amount of money to see, Tom Waits is planning a summer tour. Dear Tom. I saw you in 1999. That was way too long ago.

I need to be better about seeing live music, but it’s hard. Film takes over my life. Movies are easier to go to alone. There’s a lot of artists I’d like to see, but I’m uncomfortable going alone to late-night, hard-drinking bar shows. I try not to live in fear, but it would also be fucking stupid of me to, say, go to Gogol Bordello in SoDo. Or the Paperboys on St. Patrick’s Day. So it goes. But tonight was Tracy, next month is Ellis, and there’s the Winterpills in there somewhere. And the beat goes on.

…I seriously cannot believe I don’t have an “art saves me” icon on this account. What was I thinking?