Dar Williams in London
shimgray had commented that he and Iona would be at the gig too and we might run into eachother in the club; in fact we did so while changing trains at Oxford Circus tube station. Having reached the Borderline Club with plenty of time to spare we spent an hour in a nearby Italian restaurant. Andrew and I discussed whether we'd ever actually met in person before (somewhat confused for me by his uncanny resemblance to a bassist I used to work with), and concluded that if we had it must have been CCDE 2005.
Suitably fed, we headed back to the club. I didn't know what kind of show we were in for until we descended into the basement, where support act Lynne Hanson was playing guitar on an otherwise bare stage. Yep, it was a solo acoustic gig, and having waited some 13 years to see Dar Williams I was now going to do so from a distance of about 10ft. Yay!
It proved to be the perfect way to see her. All the lyrics came across totally clearly so even the songs I didn't know made a connection. Plus she's a very funny speaker, whether talking about the song she was about to sing, or something only tangentially related. At one point she talked about her school french teacher who would spice up french lessons with descriptions of France, whether it be the cooking or the island of Mont Saint Michel and the fact that you're not allowed to drive on it because the tide covers the lower parts of it so you're in danger of becoming trapped and drowning. "That's how to learn french; pastries and death!" She also recounted an incident before her flight from New York, wherein it became clear that a lone bag in the boarding area was unattended and there was a ringtone coming from it; Für Elise reduced to a series of irritating beeps. Cue flashbacks to Jeremy Irons in Die Hard With A Vengeance using a mobile as a detonator. Then, after the bag didn't explode and there was a collective sigh of relief, the woman in front of her turned round and said "well, at least it wasn't Clair De Lune."
She covered Midnight Radio from Hedwig and the Angry Inch, brought the house down with The Babysitter, and briefly stumbled over the words to Iowa, but it hardly mattered as the entire audience was practically singing it for her. (If there was one song just about everyone was shouting for, that was it. Except me; I went for Southern California Wants To Be Western New York instead.)
After the show I stayed around for a few minutes in the hope of getting an autograph on my Mortal City CD booklet. And lo and behold, I did. I just wish that after 13 years I'd found a few words to say beyond "thank you", but I'm sure they were appreciated.