The (Maybe not quite) Sweet Sounds of a Madrid Night

Yeah, that's me. On stage, with my "axe", "rocking out." And a harmonica too. I'm playing a D-chord, it looks like, and behind me is one of the many pictures at the club that form a series of full-bodied naked women (including one delectable one where we saw only the back of the woman...except that she was seated upon a man, whose most characteristic organ was visible in joining with hers...but enough of that).

Oh, you need context? I bet you do. So, I played a show at a club called Nänai in Madrid. The club is a decent-sized Middle Eastern themed bar/restaurant, with a laidback dining feel to the room. Besides the interesting artwork, which Ben tells me changes every 2-3 weeks, Nänai boasted a creaky stage and hummus that looked really good. I didn't try any, but I salivated over it a little.

I got the show (because that was your next question, I'm sure) through connections and chance. Sometime during my first week in Madrid, while still settling in to my new apartment, I got a gchat from Ben about how a friend of his roommate was over. Ben had told him about my guitar playing, and this friend was interested. So, I walked the two minutes over to the apartment, went up to Ben's room, and found Arthur there.

Arthur is a young-looking guy with big, white-rimmed glasses. He is tall and skinny, and always either smiling or inquisitive. He has an earnest demeanor that comes off as goofy at times, but while he can be unintentionally entertaining every now and then, he never means ill. From Portland, OR, he has had quite a bit of experience abroad and is just settling into Madrid now after 7 months here.

More pertinently, he plays guitar and had managed to get himself a show to put together at Nänai. And he was enthusiastic about putting together an entertaining bill, because nothing is more important at a show than making sure the audience is entertained, as Arthur asserted.

I was supposed to audition for Arthur that night, but something got lost in the gchatting. So instead I dug up a version of "Julian of Norwich" that Bombadil had played, to show him that I've at least written a song, and that it's ok and, if I'm lucky, entertaining. Apparently, I sold myself well enough, because by the end of the night, Coal Burning Lamp was on the bill.

There was a large interim period between the negotiations and the concert date. In the meantime I went to Andalusia, entrenched myself in the English Teacher ranks (not hard to do), and continued to struggle with the Spanish language. But then we rehearsed last Friday night. Few words are sweeter than the ones I read from Arthur via text after I emailed him to check on rehearsal Friday morning: "Let's play some tunes."

Arthur lives nearby in Arguelles. So after relaxing and preparing on a Friday afternoon that marked the end of my first full working week in Spain, I went over to his place, guitar in tow. We started to play a little, then another friend of his, Chris, joined us, and soon we were trading songs and playing together in trios, Chris on the mandolin, Arthur and I on our respective guitars. And before we knew it, we had been playing for nearly three hours. It had been a while for me, anyways - I can go only so long without yelling at the top of my voice...err...singing emotively.

At the rehearsal we showed off our respective tunes and worked out an order for our sets. An Argentinian would play first, then I would play, then Chris and I would play, then all three of us, then just Arthur. At the end of the night, a talented Australian singer who goes by Igloo would close the show down. The order is more confusing to think about than to follow, by the way.

Sunday night came, the night of the show. I scribbled down a few phrases in poor Spanish to introduce myself to the crowd, and to present my songs. I expressly didn't show the phrases to Ben, so that they would maintain their naive brilliance. (After the show, Ben told me I didn't need to translate the titles into Spanish, for example. "Ahh, but that's the point," I said. "It's not supposed to sound right.")

We stopped by a poetry reading arranged by Ben's roommate (henceforward known as Kristi, which happens to be her name), and attended by some of her friends. It was a suitable way to enter into a higher artistic mindset, one that would be shattered as soon as I opened my mouth on stage. You know, sort of like the donkey in lion's clothing.

After we enjoyed the poets' company and Ben downed a beer and seltzer water cocktail, we set off to Nänai, which was only ten minutes away. We arrived to a small crowd, 10-15 people in the back of the restaurant where all the performing would go on. I tuned up and talked with Arthur and Chris. It appeared increasingly likely that the Argentinian would not show up, which of course meant that I would have to step in and take the opener bullet.


Fortunately, I've been in less appealing performing situations. That and I wasn't exactly worried about reaching a Spanish audience anyway (though to be fair, most of the people sitting close to the stage either were Americans or spoke English well). So, when Arthur told me that we should probably get this thing going, I agreed and asked him only to introduce me a little bit, so I wouldn't have to explain everything.

Arthur is nothing if not game, so he got up and opened the night with a few words. He is no fluent Spanish speaker either, but he has no fear on the stage, and so did a nice job. Then I went up, said some silly bit about myself and "Boat to Barcelona," and began my arpeggios.


It could be said that my performance was shocking. Largely self-educated in the Mangum school of laying it on the line, I like to make clear in my songs that I care about what I'm singing about. For that reason, I may flatten a few punchlines or startle a few members in the audience, but at the same time, it's probably at least entertaining to gawk at, if nothing else.

So I went through a three song set on my own, all fairly aggressive songs - "Boat to Barcelona", "Mystery Polka," and "Keep Me Clean." The latter especially involves yelling, banging my guitar, and moving around on stage in all fashions. For the show we had no microphone or sound system, which frees the performer to move around and act, as well as sing. My guitar playing might not be strong enough to sound beneath my voice, but it's close enough.

After the trio of openers, I invited Chris on stage, who played mandolin in support of "Julian of Norwich." I've played with many talented musicians on that song, and with many different instruments (bouzouki, accordion, drums, for example), and all of them supported the song nicely one way or another. The mandolin was similarly a very nice complement to a song about a medieval mystic from England. It just made sense, and Chris managed to pick up the not completely straightforward progressions quickly.

Chris took the lead next, and I plucked some simple guitar and bass lines to complement his 3-chord down home playing. I'm not going to confuse many people for a talented guitarist, but it was a fun sidelight, and the harmonica went nicely with the bit.

This is Chris with me.

Then we returned to my last song, one of my newer songs, "This Morning's Tea" (which leaves me about two tea songs away from my Tea EP). Arthur came on stage for the last one, and we went through four verses and a big harmonica laden finish. My leading job done, I switched spots with Arthur and supported him on "The Fool" (you can check out his tunes at myspace.com/smidarthur). Then, as the plan suggested, I got off stage and just Chris supported Arthur on his next one, and then Chris left as well, and Arthur entertained on his own. He was quite entertaining, with a strange incarnation of Elvis as a hippie at times, and as I mentioned, Arthur was never afraid to lay it out on the line.

On the other hand, this is Arthur behind me.

For the finale of our section of the show, Arthur invited Chris and I back on stage and we played "Good Night." On "The Fool" I played bass and sang harmonies on the "Oh Yeahs", but on "Good Night" I got to play a little arpeggiating riff along with the harmonies. So I added a little flexibility to the whole supporting thing, or in other words a little more flexibility than I have in my legs.

At last, the three of us vacated the stage, and Igloo took the stage. As evidenced by her myspace (myspace.com/iglooz), Igloo is quite polished and talented. She (her name is Josephine) is Australian and sounds a bit like Nedelle at times, with pretty folkie songs that were augmented nicely by a violist. She is also quite ambitious, as evidenced by the set list that she kept at her feet (she included the moments when she wanted to talk to the crowd, as well as a potential encore. She didn't take it.) As Arthur explained to me that first night we met, it takes a little bit of self-promotion to make it in this business, so more power to her. We enjoyed a free drink (mine for playing the show, Ben's for, umm, we're not sure why), and then once the show ended we went over to a legendary (in the Chang-Sobol family) tapas bar for some high-quality croquetas, and discoursed on divers and fascinating topics (including, for that matter, Quixote). We argued, we agreed, we disagreed, we shared our love for Madrid and croquetas, and then we went home, to shake off the glow of the evening. Or maybe just the stench of cigarettes on our clothes. Ahh, Madrid.


All photos courtesy of Mr. Benjamin Chang.