In Conclusion, Jump Little Children actually play the Variety

Despite the fact that the Variety is actually called the Variety Playhouse, I was still unprepared for the rows and rows of seats when I walked in. On either stand of the playhouse were little standing room alcoves, and the entire front floor was also standing room. The place was BIG, but really, probably around the size of the Canal Club in Richmond. The difference was that the Variety was PACKED. It has been quite a while since I've gone to a show that had such a huge crowd. The capacity at the Variety seems to be about 700 people, and I suspect that on this evening, they had possibly oversold capacity.

Sarah and I walked to the front to stand as the opening band rocked the audience. I can't remember what they were called, but they were actually pretty good. It was certainly enjoyable, but after our adventures, I was definitely ready for Jump Little Children.

I was reaching that point of the opening band's set that I wanted to pull out my phone and check the time when Jonathan walked past us. He had apparently been standing in the crowd in front of us, and as he passed, I smiled, because a) he's brilliant and b) it meant that the opening band was just about done, and JLC was getting ready to go on.

Sure enough, the lights came up, and I realized during that passage of time between the opening band and the headliner that the Variety was non-smoking. As a hundred or so extra people squeezed into the front with us, I decided to forgo the nicotine, and keep my place.

Which was the best decision, because the intermission was short. The lights went out, the crowd roared, and Jump Little Children immediately went into "Hold You Down."

With the first chord I went all giddy. Their CDs are excellent, and I love listening to their music at home or on my iPod. But these guys are a LIVE band, and nothing in the world really compares to standing in a screaming crowd who knows all the words while the bass recalibrates my hearbeat to beat in time with the song. And it's in those first few seconds when I can tell what sort of show I'm in for--as my ears are submerged in thick waves of sound, and lights roll over the stage, and watching the first few bars of a song get played--the energy onstage, the energy in the crowd--and damn, this was going to be a great show.

I've never been the kind of person that was good at remembering set lists. I get too entranced by the music and I just live in it while it happens. But I can tell you this--I felt like I had written down my dream set list and handed it to them. They played "Violent Dreams", "Vertigo," "Afterlife," "Rains in Asia," "Education," "Requiem," "Body Parts," "My Guitar," "Not Today," . . . . . just to name a few. Every single song I wanted them to play, they played. And if it didn't make it in the set, it made it in one of the FOUR encores.

Yes, that's right, FOUR encores. Apparently Atlanta is their town--this is where they first started getting recognition, and as the night went on, the last show in Atlanta became quite emotional. The first two encores were planned--and I remember the first one had "Cathedrals" and the second had "Dancing Virginia." Each one had two or three songs. The unexpected third encore was one of the most deeply moving moments I've ever had a show.

When they came out for the third encore, the stage was starting to get shut down, so they decided, on the spur of the moment, to play acoustic. And what they decided to play was "Where She Lies."

The audience, familar with the two encore scenario and not expecting a third, had almost halved. There was a good amount of space up at the front now. We stood still as Jay talked from the stage, and since there was no amps or mics, we became very very silent.

It was quickly clear that they were not used to this--the first verse they were adjusting their volume, Jay was trying to compensate for no mic, and they seemed a little hesitant. Then, going into the chorus, it clicked. They suddenly somehow got the acoustics and the projection and everything PERFECT, and this beautifully haunting song reverberated throughout the Variety and into the vaccuum of silence created by everyone's held breath.

I have been in very few moments when I have felt that music became something tangible and I could feel it on my skin, or that I could taste it in the back of my throat. That was one of them.

They lingered on the stage as they left, reluctant and slow, each finding a piece of the moment to take with him. And then Jay did one more. He had his guitar and mic plugged back in, and then said farewell with "Close Your Eyes." And it was a farewell--when he finished, he thanked everyone, put down his guitar, and walked across the stage. He stopped in the middle, and just looked at everyone, memorizing that moment, and I thought he was going to cry. He was reluctant to take another step and leave behind something that meant so much to him. I could see him putting that moment in his pocket with all the other fabulous memories he'd created over the years. Then he waved, and forced himself to walk the rest of the way.