Postcard, 2000 (Art: James Williamson)

Church of Betty's first concert, 1990 (Poster: Verna Gillis)

First appearance at original Knitting Factory, 1988 (Art: Zode)

Chris Rael 365 postcard, 2015 (Photo: Gil Ronen)

Mule Me by The Hand, 1997 (Art: Jessica Kane)

Pretty Vacant by Tequila & Raelsy, 2011 (Art: Jasmine Hirst)

Cranberry Street, 2005 (photo by Penny Arcade; card by Heather Jones)

Fang Records Night at Under Acme, 1990 (Art: Gideon Kendall)

Penny & Chris, Rebellion Cabaret at Sydney Opera House, 2005 (The Studio)

COB Globestra at the New York Sephardic Music Festival, 2013 (photo: Rick Jungers)

Chris performs Neil Young's Helpless at the Highline Ballroom, New York 2014 (Music in Common)

Chris Rael & Dudley Saunders at Grassroots Acoustica, LA  2007 (flyer by Mark Islam)

Fang Records at CBGB, 1992 (Art: Gideon Kendall)

Postcard for Dixon Place production of ARABY, 2009 (Art: James Williamson)

Raelian Cabaret at the Living Room, 2013 (Art: Mason Brown & John Frazier)

Church of Betty & Johnny Society at the Knitting Factory, 2001

The film Cosmopolitan by Nisha Ganatra, with feature songs by Chris Rael (Gigantic Pictures 2003)

Fruit on the Vine CD release party with The Negro Problem & Martha Wainwright, 1999 (Art: Dan Shepelavy)

Najma & Church of Betty, Symphony Space 1996 (Shanachie Records)

Rebellion Cabaret at Ars Nova, 2004

Alterknit w/ COB, Flat Old World & Brian Dewan, 1995 (Art: Mark Lerner) 

With Theodosii Spassov and Vlada Tomova's Balkan Tales, Symphony Space 2011 (WMI)

The Hand at CBGB, 1996 (cheap postcard replication of Gideon Kendall's great album cover)

New Years Day 1999 at the Knitting Factory with Quentin Crisp & Penny Arcade (poster by Penny)

Premiere screening of Tail End of a Dream, Church of Betty concert film 2005 (Poster by James Williamson)

First Church of Betty gig in New York, Pyramid Club 1987 (poster by Chris)

Wiener Festwochen 1993, the Contemporary Indian Music Festival that put COB on the world music map

 Fang Records at CBGB, 1991. Jenny Wade, Don Ralph, Gideon Kendall, Sasha Frere-Jones et al. (poster by Chris)

Weekend at the Bottom Line, 2001 with Zappa guitarist Mike Keneally (Postcard: Heather Jones)

Warhol Extravaganza: Taylor Mead, Penny Arcade, Church of Betty, Ed Pastorini, Babe the Blue Ox at the Knitting Factory, 2003 (poster: Chris Rael)

Million Marijuana March benefit, Bowery Poetry Club, 2005

Chris & Vlada at Montauk Library, 2014 (Art: Leela Rupa & Donna Hadjipopov)

Church of Betty, 101 Crustaceans & Dolores at the original Knitting Factory, 1990 (poster by Chris, including misspelling of 'Dolores')

Paradise Theatre Co. w/ Julia Douglass, Flat Old World & Life in a Blender, 1993 (Art: Mark Lerner)

With 101 Crustaceans & Pere Ubu, Knitting Factory 1991 (poster by Chris)

Outfest Festival credential, LA 2005, when Chris won the Outstanding Soundtrack Award for Queer Realities and Cultural Amnesia

McGovern's with Jenny Wade's Vodka & early Babe the Blue Ox, 1991 (poster by Chris)

Front: Penny Arcade & Chris Rael Rebellion Cabaret. Back: Joan Rivers, dual residencies at Fez, 2005

Gershwin Hotel w/ Ira Cohen & the Museum of Sex, 2004 (Design by Neke Carson)

Fang compilation Thirsty Ears CD release concert at The Knitting Factory, 1991 (Art by Gideon Kendall)

First Fang record release party, CBGB in 1988: Antipop compilation w/ Plugbunnies Inc, The Mommyheads, Life in a Blender & Church of Betty (Poster by Zode, photos by Pablo Tauler)

Tripping With Wanda CD release party at The Bottom Line, 2002 (Art by James Williamson)

Your Name Here, Maryland trio, early '80s w/ Chris, Kevin Miller (bass) & Steve Jackson (drums). Art by Chris

James Williamson, ARABY  2009

 Stewart Hoyt, Prospect Heights Music Festival, 2015

 Amy Ferrara, St. Marks Poetry Project, 2005

Sasha Rael, Mom & Dad, 2015

Antony Zito, portrait 2003

Okay it's not live, but it is art - by COB's own Jon Feinberg, 2000

This means so much because of who it comes from (Clayton, Alan et al.) and who it's about: all of us. I'm not the only one in this room who thinks about how New York has changed between now and when we started making the work being recognized here tonight. The other day I posted about the closing of the Magic Shop recording studio, lamenting how artists made the cache Downtown that is now exploited by developers and used against us. Someone from out of town wrote, "Times change and we must change with them." Yeah, that's what I would have said to someone in Warsaw in 1939 watching the Panzer Division roll up the boulevard. "Be flexible!" I know people now who write off my music career as some kind of unrealized dream because I do other things for money, because I multitask to survive. Those people really, really don't understand what's important about art. But we all do, and I'm so happy to be here with you. When it comes to what matters, I wouldn't trade my Acker for a sack full of Grammys. Thanks!

When the moment came, Phoebe asked me to say a few words about the music biz. I said, "There's art and there's commerce. We are people who love art, and I wouldn't trade my Acker for a sack full of fucking Grammys." The room roared, and I knew I was with my people. 

The son band Ovi-Nava blew my mind the most. I spotted them walking past one of 100 cafes in Habana Vieja. The lead singer, Lazaro Hernandez Alfonso, is a bona fide star  waiting to happen. To see my vid, CLICK HERE

This next one is a montage of 11 different groups (including more Lazaro at the end). We didn't plan to see any of these groups, still don't know their names. This vid collects random sounds we were fortunate enough to stumble across in walks around town. The consistency of the quality is astounding. CLICK HERE to see & hear for yourself!

The most popular of my Cuba youtube videos actually features the least music. My son Sasha needed to take a week off from kindergarten to go on the trip, so we agreed to make a little movie of Sasha sharing his journey with his class. He did a great job! Grownups are loving it as much as kids. See it HERE

Lazaro, video still by Chris Rael

ANN RUPEL: Getting involved in the East Village music scene in the late '80s/early '90s was one of the most exciting experiences of my life. There were incredibly powerful, cutting-edge ensembles doing brilliant, aggressive music. One group that personified this was No Safety, which included harpist Zeena Parkins, guitarist Chris Cochrane (now firmly entrenched in Church of Betty!) and Ann. She was a muscular player with a brilliant sense of counterpoint. And though no one would mistake No Safety's style for funk, she shook the bottom of the sound like a great funk player.

BRENDA SAUTER: I discovered the Feelies in phase 2 of their golden age, when Brenda was the bassist. Her feel and sound on the Only Life album is one of my favorite supporting sounds in any pop rock album. She also sang great. She just made the music feel right - winsome, sweet, introspective yet groovy as shit.

CATHERINE POPPER: Catherine has had a pretty rich career playing with numerous fine artists, including Ryan Adams, Rachelle Garniez, Joseph Arthur, M Doughty, etc. I know her from just one experience, working on a project for producer Jimi Zhivago in the mid-2000s at the Magic Shop: Tamerlane Phillips, son of John & Michelle. Sonic Youth drummer Steve Shelley was also involved. Tam had beautiful, simple folky songs and our band was making an amazing sound. Sadly, Tam's guru pulled the plug on his career and the album was never finished. But this woman impressed me so much with her laser execution and deep, deep feel that I've been a huge fan ever since.

CINDY RICKMOND: Cin was a phenomenon in the worlds of pop, dance grooves, grungy rock AND the high ozone of 101 Crustaceans before we met and she joined Church of Betty in 1990. She was the original Betty bassist and drove the band like a Formula One race car engine during the years when New York was discovering our music. She was funky, melodic and packed the punch of a heavyweight boxer. This woman gave me so much. I've always loved her for her passion, power and lioness heart.

FELICE ROSSER: Many moons ago I would see Felice working at the Sidewalk Cafe and had no idea what an unbelievable musician and bandleader she was. Years later I would thrill to the sounds of her group Faith. Her voice is one of the deepest and most powerful I know, and yet it's like velvet. Nina Simone comes to mind, but even deeper. Her ability to compose a complex bass line supporting her song while singing contrapuntally to it is unparalleled.

GWEN SNYDER: aka Blueberry, Gwenny charmed me with her brilliantly eccentric compositional approach, fluid instrumental versatility and crisp command of loungey R&B feel on the bass. I met her around the time we started The Kennel in Dumbo, then a post-industrial wasteland. Through me she met future husband Kenny Siegal. She played a lot of accordion and sang in Church of Betty, but actually replaced me as the bassist in Johnny Society when Kenny and I parted to drive our own ships after the Hand. Since then she has impressively powered a half-dozen JS albums with as big a rock n roll sound as any dude.

HEIDI RODEWALD: This relentlessly creative creature, who happens to be one of the sweetest people I know, embodies a sensibility I love: LA pop. Her music has evolved far beyond just that, but that's where it's rooted. Longtime partners with Stew, Heidi's bass is the rock upon which their whole oeuvre is built. Her voice is crystalline and seductive, her bass lines are precise yet relaxed, and her ability to write hooks is jaw dropping.

JENNY WADE: In my early years in New York, Rude Buddha was one the groups we looked up to and aspired to be. They were utterly unique, largely based on the style, persona and bone crunching bass playing of Jenny Wade. Her voice was also completely singular; in the years since I've never heard a sound remotely like it. After Rude Buddha she played in other intrepid bands like Vodka, Timber and a group with me and Dan Fisherman called Goulash. Playing with Jenny was a musical thrill for me; I'll never forget it.

ROSE THOMSON: Gender aside, Rose is one of the most powerful bassists I've ever heard, period. Babe the Blue Ox, her group with Tim Thomas, Hanna Fox and Eddie Gormley, was originally a trio (before Eddie) called B.O.X. I'd listen to them at McGovern's Bar in Soho and luxuriate in getting the hair blown right off my head. With a twisted sense of melody, a fetish for hard-turn changes in their music, and Rose's uncanny ability to marry funk and rock n roll in unconventional patterns, these guys were titans of alternative rock. I remain one of their biggest fans.

SARA LEE: When I started listening to Gang of Four in the early '80s, I doubt I even knew the bassist was a woman. I just loved the sound so much I couldn't stop listening to the group. I listened to hear Sara even more than the tunes; she was just the shit. Sara has played a lot of other great music too with the likes of Robert Fripp, the B-52s, Ani DiFranco & the Indigo Girls. But back in the day, Gang of Four was it for me.

TINA WEYMOUTH: She's the godmother of this whole list for me. Talking Heads was an absolute seminal influence; I loved them unabashedly. Tom Tom Club taught me what was possible in the arena of dance music composition. Omnipresent in all this was Tina's pocket, that incredible pocket. She was a master of understatement, always said more with less and played the instrument with supreme elegance.

ZOE GUIGUENO: Relocated to NYC fairly recently from Canada, Zoe is the youngest player on this list. I heard her play with an old friend, brilliant composer/singer/pianist Michael Holt, a couple times and she blew me away. Gorgeous upright player with a nice voice, a great stylist of songs. This woman has already made a lot of great music and has a ton more ahead of her. Keep an ear out!

Chris & Penny, New Years Day at St Marks Poetry Project, East Village.  Video still: Steve Zehentner

Betty jams with Pugwash at The Living Room, Brooklyn. Video still: Rick Jungers

Church of Betty quartet at Prospect Heights Music Festival. Photo: Rob Plass

Chris & Vlada perform at Flushing Free Synagogue, Queens. Photo: George Pavlov

Chris with Stew & Heidi Rodewald at The Kennedy Center, Washington. Photo: Earl Dax

Chris jams with Stew at The Living Room. Video still: Vlada Tomova

Chris & Vlada with Liz Kaderabek & Elizabeth Jaffe, Clearfield Salon, Philadelphia. Photo: John Hayes

Chris & Avirodh Sharma in the TV serial Flesh and Bone. Video still: STARZ Network

1. WAKE UP

Follow your dreams through time unless your dreams are bad like mine

I guess dreams can be good or bad

You know the best dream I ever had was with you sleeping in my bed

Wake up and smell the sun

I feel warmth lighting up my face

Believe in power of the day

No dream can steal your strength away, no way

Dreams are fulfilled awake

2. EVER DEEPER

Kiss away the tears

All the tears that I draw out of your eyes

Sometimes I'm unkind

Sorry but I just hurt deep down inside

Long before us, I paid a price

One and only you, skin as thick as sandpaper

One and only me, bullets piercing body armor

The love that we give is the love that we take

The pain that we shield is the cream on our cake

Darling I believe I can love you better

Darling I believe I can touch you deeper

I can love you better when I love myself

Gotta find a way to better love myself

I commit my pride to pursuit of a deeper peace inside

If not for us, I would be lost

Ever deeper inside, I feel for the light

3. I REMEMBER YOU

I remember you, do you remember me?

Was a time our bond was true, us and god made three

Locked in art and locked in love, how the spirit flies

Til the weather changes us, past remains alive

I remember you, do you remember me?

What we made was rich and true, set each other free

Free to roam the maze of time, to the other side

Opposite and back again, memories collide

Memory, history

What we create can't be taken away

The present seems to last forever til the energy fades

The present seems to last forever til we blink it away

You may not be around but you changed the beat of my heart

I remember you, do you remember me?

The seed we planted long ago has grown into a tree

Never mind the rain that fell in years since you've been gone

I observe your lessons well, give thanks and carry on

4. BEAUTIFUL VESSEL

We band together to take on the day and all of its challenges

Why can't it be simple?

In different directions we're running today

Cris-crossing our corner of ocean

Visibility is low, the weather changing on a dime

Compass spinning

Beautiful vessel, navigate the raging main

We are your faithful crew

Beautiful vessel, tracking that Northern star

We place our faith in you

So many mercies along the way

So many unplanned gifts help us stay the course

When tsunami threatens to sweep us away

We must remember the joys of this journey

Through it all, we turn to you

Steer your precious cargo to safe harbor

Lord know I try to get us by

I turn to you, beautiful vessel

In spite of my might, it's a fight

Day is night, beautiful vessel

The lightning and thunder crash across the sky

Beautiful vessel

5. I DON'T SING

I walked the walk into the fire

I bled red blood for your voyeuristic pleasure

I walked the plank into the pyre

You are my witness

I laid my soul bare on your sacrificial table

I don't sing anymore, cos I don't want to share my life with you

I don't sing anymore cos the deeper I cut, the less there is to show

I took the stand and came clean

Confessed my sins for your voyeuristic pleasure

I testified to my lies

I was your witness to painful regrets for your passive catharsis

I dug so deep for whatever was in me that might not have been heard before

But no one cares when the sonic martyr dares

"What is this? I ain't never heard it before"

Out the door

I told the tale of my life

Exposed mistakes for your educational pleasure

But tales of caution run dry

If you could witness the hubris and folly, as if I've learned nothing

O how I've tried to improve my lot in life

But it seems the joke is all on me, lost in the weeds

Well it may be that the truth will set you free

I wouldn't know because I'm miles away, bored with the chase

6. ENDURE

Sister it's alright to cry

Sister it's alright to cry when it hurts, or else it just hurts worse

Sister it's alright to cry

Sister it's alright to show what's inside, or else it's just a lie

Come to me sister, alright to cry

brother it's alright to fight

Brother it's alright to stand up for yourself

If not you, who else?

Brother it's alright to fight

Brother it's alright to struggle with the pain, push against the grain

Stand up my brother, alright to fight

So many challenges

One after another down the line, that's just fine

Life is a puzzle box

Each piece a new mystery to be solved, down the line

Stand up together, endure endure, we'll be fine

Stand up together, we are born to endure, yes we are

Mother it's alright to cry

Mother it's alright to touch your deepest love for another

Mother it's alright to fight

Mother it's alright to battle for your son

Raise another one into the world, alright to love

7. SWIRLED WORLD

Welcome the new world, baby it's a new world

Welcome the new world, can't you see the new world?

The zeros and ones string us together from the corners of every continent

Our blood is swirling together, we unite through common eyes

Welcome the new world, joy to the new world

Welcome the new world, speeding through a new world

The zeros and ones add up to power

Launching us all into helpless orbit of those with a lease on forever

But we still occupy our minds

Baby it's a swirled world, feel karma whirling around you

Listen for another's heart as the white noise surrounds you

All together come, one world, one vision

Here's to the old world, yes it was a helluva world

Cheers to the old world, kiss it all goodbye my love

There is a comfort in the familiar

Especially when all the tears of the past have dissolved into the future

In a cloud of never-minds

8. BROOKLYN SOUL

Born in America, raised on rock n roll

Cut my teeth in India, searching for my soul

Now I live in Brooklyn and the planet feels alright

Every flavor at your doorstep, every vision out of sight

Glowing in the streets of gold

Every spice mingling from around the globe

It's Brooklyn soul, it's cool

Little Russia out of Brighton, Chinatown in Sunset Park

Muslim prayers on Atlantic to Jamaican East New York

Every color of the rainbow fills a corner of this town

When the colors blend together there's a party coming downtown

The music in the streets, every heart pounding like a bass drum beat

It's Brooklyn soul, it's cool

Summertime, water fountains

Promenade, Wall Street mountains

Williamsburg, hipster heaven

Polar swim at Coney Island

Born in the many distant corners of the globe

The dreamers and the seekers come to Brooklyn, one and old

From the poor and weak and hungry to the masters of the world

It's a stew of human drama, it's a snapshot of the earth

Every joy and struggle here, birth, death and everything in between

It's Brooklyn soul, it's cool

In Vinegar Hill, warehouses decked in luxury

Bushwick sidewalks sprouting art and living cheap

Crown Heights playgrounds full of kids and menacing boys

Every shade of Jew across this borough of hope

Dip me in the Gowanus!

Watery hives along the Red Hook waterfront

To eternal sleep at Greenwood, my love

9. MUSE

Every song I sing is for you and you alone

Even the ones that seem about something else

Are refracted through the prism of your eyes

The further away you are, the more you're in my mind

The deeper inside I go, the more of you I find

Feel life behind my eyes

The world is my muse, I see it through your eyes

The world is my muse, I feel it through your smile

The world is my muse, I see me through your mind

The world is my muse

I ventured into you, I didn't hesitate

I dove into your well and deeply I drank of your soul

This world can be cruel

But I realize the task on each of us

Is to make some kind of peace inside and outside of us

10. PAELLA

A little of this and a little of that

Some young, some old from around the world are gathered here

A little of this and a little of that

Old friends and new from out of the blue are gathered here

My friend is a magnet for our hearts and our souls

We come together and share each others' gold

From every walk of life, drinking every drop of life

We are a microcosm

A little of this and a dash of that

So generous, so effortless, we share our food

A little of this and a pinch of that

The secret ingredient is love

Come one, come all into this world within a world

The simple joys of accepting who we are

From every walk of life, drinking every drop of life

We are a microcosm

We are a paella!

Now the seedy venues are all gone, replaced by not-live soundtracked joints whose primary attractions are high-end finger food, cute drinks with impossibly long names, and opportunities to  seek out and nail fellow silver-spoon 20-somethings paying too much rent on daddy’s dime. I too have changed, no longer living the dream daily but stubbornly squeezing it into the cracks of a responsibility-laiden life. We all soldier on, making choices and making due.

Enter Pugwash, a very great Irish rock band around my age. Like so many bands I’ve known in New York, Pugwash has birthed numerous infectious, unforgettable songs that have delighted thousands, garnered the appreciation and respect of some of rock’s most accomplished artists, and somehow never landed the big score or audience their work truly deserves. Most artists fitting this profile as they zero in on 50 have already given up, but not these guys.

I was turned on to Pugwash around 7 years ago by drummer friend Marc Friedlander. Seduced by their infectious pop melodies, rich velvety singing, stalwart musicianship and glistening production, I felt the same warm thrill listening to them as I had felt taking in the groups that had most inspired my own music: the Beatles and XTC. Marc had shared just a few tracks with me. I knew nothing about them, not even that they were Irish. But their tunes would fill me with profound contentment when they popped up on my iPod. 

Last Wednesday I spent the day in a suit and tie playing cat-and-mouse with corporate clients in greater Philadelphia. I was itching to get back to town, for Marc (who now lives in Asheville) had facebooked friends that Pugwash was making its New York debut at the Delancey, one of the last remaining holes in the wall Downtown. It had been years since I’d been excited to see a new band I loved in such a small place. Presuming there must be hundreds of New Yorkers who had found their way to the bliss of Pugwash, I anticipated a crowd trying to fight its way in.

An old college friend in town on business had suddenly become free that evening, so we made plans to meet for a quick bite. I’d meet her then head down to the show, advertised at 8 pm. The train was over an hour late picking me up and then proceeded back to the city at a tortuously slow pace. I rode fidgeting in my monkey suit, realizing I’d be dressed like a narc for the hip show later that evening. My friend Wendy and I finally connected at 6:30. We hit an Italian place and caught up for 90 minutes.

Wendy and I met in journalism school and she had gone on to achieve great success in the field. Having known each other throughout adulthood and watched our families grow, careers blossom, weathering of hardships, etc., our friendship always shined perspective on where we were in life at any given time. She told me of potential career opportunities that could land her in various exotic locales; I gave her the latest on the challenges of my draconian job, financial struggles, and excitement about making my finest album in years. A fitting reality check before scurrying downtown to see a new band for the first time since I could remember. 

I arrived at the Delancey sweating and already exhausted around 8:30, where I was told the band wouldn’t play until 10. Great, I thought. How will I make it that long? I called Vlada at home and debated whether to bail on the show. I felt old; I was tired. But I couldn’t let it go. I called Susie, my ex who lived nearby. “I’m in the hood trying to stick it out til 10,” I said. “Come over and sleep,” she offered. “I’ll wake you up in time.”

Returning to the club rejuvenated, I entered the dank basement of the Delancey. I’d never been downstairs there before and was taken aback by how much it reminded me of venues of the past – cement floor, foot-high platform stage, velvet curtain behind masking the bounceback off the mildewy wall. It was dark, unglamorous and – to my surprise – half-empty. Thirty or so people lounged around, chatting and awaiting the band. Recognizing none of them, I shrugged and parked myself right in front of the stage.    

The group was settling onto the stage, tuning, testing amps. They were unassuming, projecting no rock star attitude. They seemed like me and my contemporaries, a group of guys on an adventure with no sense of entitlement. They were my age and had crossed the water to play for the first time. They were doing it. Beautiful.

They kicked off the first song and a wall of sound hit me in the face. Indeed it had been a while… The group sounded sublime, much more raw than on their seamlessly produced recordings. This was rock n roll, the Beatles at the Cavern, not Sgt. Pepper. Conducting themselves with the humility of a pub band, the guys nonetheless commanded attention.

Sporting a shaved head like mine, bassist Shaun McGee laid down his tricky, tasteful lines with graceful authority, swaying and bopping in time. Wonderfully disheveled, Tosh Flood’s modest and mild personality belied his fierce handling of the guitar. He comped like the Byrds, then spat leads that could have held their own in the Stones. From my vantage point I couldn’t see drummer Joey Fitzgerald, but his deep pocket was stellar, guiding the group like an engine pulling a freight train. Then there was Thomas.

The composer and leader of the group, Thomas Walsh is a big beautiful guy with a scraggly goatee, a transcendent voice, a gift for pop hooks and a wickedly marvelous sense of humor. He is completely down to earth and utterly musically compelling, brutally coaxing accented rhythms and countermelodies out of his Fender Telly while exercising a formidable vocal range.

Within the first five songs, they played both of my personal favorites: Keep Moving On and Apples. I was a bit shocked; it had been so long since I’d felt this way listening to a group. I was also in pain, as my ears were no longer used to absorbing the volume. (They’re still ringing as I write this 4 days later.) After 5 tunes I relinquished my ringside seat to seek sonic mercy in the back.

Already content, I wondered if I should stick out the show or drag my tired ass back to Brooklyn. I liked them so much, I thought If I stayed I might revert to my old Downtown impresario ways and start chatting them up about business or working together or my old label Fang Records. I felt satisfied, shy and fried. Thought it might be best to retire while ahead, let this show be a magic moment and get some sleep to recharge for the ugly, draining workday ahead on Thursday. 

But I couldn’t move. Each song sucked me in deeper than the one before. Or Thomas would make a joke between songs that would pull me back. He would introduce a track as “from one of the 7 records sold in Dublin” or having won “the dumb fuck prize” or having caused a “huge, huge, huge ripple” on the Irish charts. At one point he clarified that the group is “not from Latvia”.  

So for me, “just one more” turned into the whole show. The heavy testimony of Two Wrongs. The light irony of It’s Nice to Be Nice. The moody pop mastery of Fall Down. The sweeping, passionate ballad Here.

It was hard to read the audience, which had filled in to maybe 50 people. Most of them looked middle aged, pushing 50. They didn’t exude much energy; applause was polite but hardly fervent. Thomas commented on the crowd’s lack of animation, which elicited further unanimated non-response. I honestly believe they were having as good a time as I was. Old folks just don’t move or squeal much. 

In any event, the group had apparently had enough of it and, to my sheer delight, launched sideways into a raucous and ragged string of Rutles covers, including an epic rendition of Cheese and Onions. Clearly not everyone in the room recognized the Rutles, but in the back I held my belly and bellowed with laughter.

When encore time came, Pugwash executed a cover of Nowhere Man in honor of their first appearance in John Lennon’s adopted town. The harmonies were tight and the band punched the song with more muscle than the Beatles, who were stoned a lot by the time they were playing Nowhere Man to shrieking, unlistening throngs. Perhaps not a fair fight, but Pugwash out-Beatled the Beatles.

After the show I dashed to the merch table and secured myself a t-shirt and disc. I gave their assistant my card and offered my availability should the band succeed in its aspiration to return next year. Turning away, I ran right into Thomas.

“Man I love you guys,” I said. “I’ve been putting together shows here for a long, long time. I gave your man a card. If you make it back next year, I’m someone you could call here who can help.” Thomas was warm, friendly, modest and appreciative, the type of person one would feel good to get behind.

“I hope they come back,” I thought.