As you may have noticed, I have a large fondness for music. It is, as described by Hunter S. Thompson, "a matter of energy for me, a question of Fuel." And there is no time of the year where I am more in need of that Fuel than the first two months of any year. Even when the winter's not as harsh as usual, there's something about January and February that demands a trip somehwere to see music. Last year, it was a couple of trips to see the Avett Brothers in January. But the Avetts were way out West this winter, so that was out of the question (or, more to the point, out of the budget). So I would have to look elsewhere.
In early January, I checked the Split Lip Rayfield site, looking for updates on Kirk Rundstrom's health. The band had done a few shows at the end of 2006 that they declared to be the official end of the road. I had thought about taking a trip out for one of those shows, but the timing didn't work out. So I had resigned myself to the fact that I'd miss out on seeing Split Lip one last time.
Until that day in January when the band announced that Kirk wanted to keep doing shows and would head out for a four-day run in February that would include a stop at the Beachland Ballroom in Cleveland. That would be the furthest east the band had come on their farewell tour. I hemmed and hawed a bit about the money part of the trip, but after getting a reasonable price on a flight, it was all systems go. I'd take a flight Friday morning, see the show on Friday night, and then head home on Saturday. Then, checking out what to do in Cleveland, I discovered that the Cleveland-Style Polka Hall of Fame was in nearby Euclid. And so the trip became that much more exciting.
Well, maybe "exciting" isn't the right word for a trip built on seeing a man with terminal cancer for the last time. But then again, maybe it is.
***
To recap for those without a strong knowledge of every post here, Kirk Rundstrom, guitarist and singer in Kansas's Split Lip Rayfield, was diagnosed with esophageal cancer last January. After undergoing months of treatments, doctors eventually gave him the bad news in June that there was little they could do. He was given two to six months to live. Rather than spending his last days undergoing more treatments that would weaken him, Rundstrom decided to go out doing what he loved. So, with mandolin player/singer Wayne Gottstine back on board as well, Split Lip Rayfield went back out on the road, doing weekend runs and shows for their Kansas fanbase. Now, almost eight months after the prognosis, Rundstrom is defying the odds and still playing shows.
I once saw John Hartford give a show at the Bottom Line a few months before his death. In betweeen songs, he would take swigs from what I assume was a bottle of medicine, apologizing for his sluggishness along the way. Toward the end of the show, he expressed his regret that he would not be able to meet with fans after his set, as it was just a bad idea considering his weakened medical condition. At the time, I didn't really know much about John Hartford, so the show--and his frail condition--probably wasn't as heartbreaking to me as it was to his more devoted fans. What I remember most about the show is Hartford's dry, laconic ramble through "Watching the River Go By." It's a simple, mainly spoken song, but that night Hartford and his band made it seem like the greatest song I've ever heard. I bought the studio CD on which it appears, and it sounds just fine. But it doesn't sound like it did that night. There's a sweet, sad magic missing from it. I'm glad I got to hear that magic that night.
I also once felt compelled to take a bus to Woodstock to go to the memorial service for The Band's Rick Danko. I know that seems strange, but it really didn't at the time. It seemed like exactly the right thing to do--because The Band played a big part in guiding me to the music I listen to and love. And I just felt that I had to show my appreciation in some way. But there may have been another reason for going, too. Danko played solo shows in New York City all the time, and I always put them off, thinking there would always be plenty of opportunities to see him again. And then, suddenly, there weren't. I think I went to Woodstock partly as an apology for missing all those shows, and partly because I was angry for having done so.
Since then, I've tried to treat certain shows with a sense of urgency. Maybe that sounds odd to you, because you get your Fuel other ways. And that's fine. But that's how I got to Cleveland.
***
After a pleasant, uneventful flight, a quick stop at the hotel, and a cab ride from a driver who seemed to only have a vague idea of where the Beachland Ballroom was, I headed into the show. Well, actually, I first made a few purchases at the nearby Music Saves and the kick-ass This Way Out downstairs at the Beachland. But I'll skip over that in favor of the actual show, OK?
There were two opening acts, one (Chittlin') who had pretty good songs but not much stage presence and another (Uncle Scratch's Gospel Revival) who had great stage presence but kinda dopey songs. The latter at least demands a picture, particularly because experimentation with my new camera resulted in this one:
They certainly weren't boring. I don't know if I'd run out to buy their CDs, but it is a pretty entertaining live experience. And during their last song, a fight broke out behind me. Always cool.
But all that was a lead-up to Split Lip, who took the stage to loud applause and an outpouring of love, which was another reason I was glad to be at the show. Most of the Split Lip shows I've seen in the NYC area have been criminally underattended, so it's always nice to see a good band get a good-sized crowd. I remember seeing Split Lip at Maxwell's in Hoboken back in 2005, and I was among ten people who share that memory. I also recall reading that Wayne Gottstine left the band soon after that tour, and understanding completely.
Anyway, as I said, Gottstine was back on board, and since his mandolin playing has always been my favorite part of the band, it was good to see him up on stage again. And, of course, it was good to see Rundstrom up there, too. He certainly looked a little frailer than the last time I saw him, but he still looked reasonably well, particularly for a man that doctors didn't expect to be playing to a large crowd in Cleveland on a Friday night in February 2007. But it was sort of a weird experience for me. While I would usually not think twice about a guitarist staggering around a bit on stage, every time Rundstrom tipped back a bit or lurched forward, I would just get really worried. It was one thing to come to Cleveland to see Split Lip one last time, but it would be something else entirely to see something horrible happened while Rundstrom was on stage. So my heart jumped a bit when he knocked his head against the microphone mid-set. And I was a little distracted for the next few minutes.
But then the music took over. It's hard to really explain Split Lip's sound, other than I like it. What else do you need? It's played with bluegrass instruments (with the exception of a bass made from a gas tank and one string made out of weed whacker line), but it's not really bluegrass. I bet I've used that same description--minus the bass part--for the Avett Brothers, and Split Lip does share a similar, fast-picking energy with the Avetts. And it's that energy--whether derived from Eric Mardis's banjo runs, Gottstine's insane mandolin solos, or Jeff Eaton's mastery of the aforementioned unique bass--that completely washed away the sadness I expected Friday night's show to bring.
And when Rundstrom ripped through a guitar solo or plowed into singing, the realization that I was seeing a really good band give everything they had to a devoted crowd on a Friday night in Cleveland knocked away any sorrow in my heart. The show wasn't a funeral. It was a celebration, just like every show the band has done since Rundstrom's diagnosis and every show they will do until...
I don't feel like finishing that sentence. And I doubt anybody in Split Lip does either. So they play on. They've added some more dates for the months ahead. They'll be a helluva party.
P.S. I don't know if you'd dig Split Lip's music, but why not give it a shot? Visit their homepage or their MySpace page to hear their songs (and maybe buy thir CDs?). And you can donate money to help Kirk out by clicking on the link on the left-hand side of this page. Think about it, OK?NEXT: And then we polka.
