Not a Bad Seat In the House-Elvis Perkins at The Troubadour
October 4th, 2009
by Josiah Goulojuh
Saturday night I sat on a stool perched above the stage. The light from the iconic blue neon sign illuminating my face. The word emanating from that blue light reminding me where I was read, “Troubadour.” I leaned over the rail, relishing my position, until I found Security looming over me.
Security, the very guy who told me I could sit there, informed me that he was wrong and I couldn’t sit there. After a few minutes of failed negotiation, I officially lost my seat. As I took the walk of shame down the steps a dude in a fedora smirked at me as he passed. We shared a moment, for him it was probably along the lines of “thanks for your seat pal,” for me it was the realization that Matt Vasquez, the lead singer of Delta Spirt, had just stolen my seat (for more on Matt check here.
Matt’s residency in my former seat didn’t last long as he took the stage, performing with Frank and Eli, his solo “band.” They were filling out the bill as a last minute substitute for the original middle act. As Matt performed I settled into my new seat as far back and high up as I could get in the tiny Troubadour.
By the time Matt had finished I was firmly settled. Before I knew it Elvis Perkins’ band, doing their best impression of a marching band, stomped through the crowd, wailing away on brass and pounding a drum. It was a damn fine way to start the show, the band is just that good, and better than the band is its frontman, Elvis Perkins himself. Elvis Perkins has been compared to Bob Dylan and Leonard Cohen, and rightfully so, but the best compliment I can pay to him is to say he is Elvis Perkins. No one else sings like him, and certainly no one else writes like him. As I sat, as far back and high up as I could be, I found myself surrounded by pictures reminding of all the history that IS the Troubadour, and as I swam in the music of Elvis Perkins, every note of it a new moment of history, each self contained, each beautiful, each eternal, each fleeting, each gone, I realized there are no bad seats at the Troubadour.
