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Hotel Alexis, at another time and place.

Sometimes I hate going to the Red Door. It seems like a good idea at the time. I go to check out a friend's band, I get there early, I treat myself to a $10 drink, I settle in on a comfy sofa and greet my friends as they roll in. Then at some point in the evening, I get up for a drink or a bathroom run, lose my seat and end up crouched in the back with half an ass cheek on an ottoman next to a group of girls spending the whole time talking about whether the guys they are sleeping with are dirt bags (hey ladies--if you met them at TJs, they're dirt bags). Despite how good my friend's band is, I always have to sit through some other act, like a waifish girl singing about being lonely and the plains of Kansas or some 9-piece folk freak disaster that everyone in the room thinks is AMAAAAAAAZING but is really nothing more than a bunch of hipsters recreating their prescription drug induced love fest they had in the woods last weekend.

Thankfully, last Monday was not one of those nights.

The line up included the two "welcome home" sets--Jerry Brookman and Hotel Alexis, as well as the bluesy Moses Atwood. The room was full, but not too crowded. I managed to keep my seat through all three sets and the sound (courtesy of Joe McDonough) was impeccable. Atwood, who I've never seen before, sang like a motherfucker, loud and ballsy and full of pain, just like a blues guy should. It's been a while since I've seen Sid play and as usual, he and the rest of Hotel Alexis rocked it. Then Jerry, who I've known and worked with since I moved to Portsmouth, came on and started singing selections from his old collection. There were a few Portsmouth ex-pats in the audience who happened to be in town and stopped by. There were also a few of the regular Monday night crew, many of whom I hadn't seen in months.

Between sets, the room flooded out onto the street where everyone was smoking butts and hugging old friends and dishing each other shit. It was like the old times, and by old times I mean a year and a half ago.

I guess here is the part of the entry where I should start the inevitable tirade about how the music scene in Portsmouth used to be so vibrant, how things have changed and there needs to be more venues and all that shit, but really, I'm tired of that old yarn. The reason why there are no good venues is because no one really goes to see bands anymore. We're all old farts who prefer to sit at the bar three nights a week smoking butts and bitching about our restaurant/cubicle jobs. There was a time when I used to nod in agreement with the handful of people who feel bringing more live acts to Portsmouth is a cause equivalent to saving the whales, but these days, I just want to tell them to grow up or move out. I know that I might get shit for this or lose what little shreds of my hipster cred I have left but truly, I'm content with what we've got.