Boston to DC and back

The trek home from DC got me home around 10 p.m. Saturday night. Put the kettle on for tea, unloaded the car, read my emails and it was midnight before I knew it - time to call the working day over and put some caledonia music on, with me in a reclining position. It was an easy choice what music I wanted - Veedon Fleece, the remastered version - and with the opening notes of Fair Play, was immediately back into the feeling created by the music I've been living in this past week. Which is exactly the tonic I needed, and still need these few days later, to keep the music in my head.

What's good for the goose is good for the gander. It occurs to me that rather than spending a lot of words to describe what the shows are like, getting just the right word, the right emphasis, the best thing I can say is "Put VF on; whatever you get from VF, that's what you'll get at his live shows these particular days."

So, go put on VF, and I'll continue on, looking for just the right words.

I find it hard sometimes to transition from the Van world to the real world I live in. In the real world, no one I know understands my passion for going to see Van live; the only people I get to share that with are the fans who come to the shows, and over the years, that group has become something of a safe haven, because there's no need to explain. The music is the thing. And, of course, there's nowhere else you'd really rather be. No wonder I have a tough time transitioning away from that.

It's a little bit more than that, though. It's carrying around the music in my head that makes it tough to let go. Especially when the music is as good as it is now. I want to hold onto it as long as I can, because once I let life's demands interfere, that music is going to fade away and that will be the end of that.

It's Monday, and so far I haven't let life interfere too much, although I've got to get on the ball soon. My Van holiday is about to come to an end. Things to do, people to see, you know the routine.

A bonus on this road trip from Boston to DC and back is that we got a whole two nights in one city. We don't always get so lucky following Van around in the States, but this road trip we did. After the great show in Boston, that's about all we could talk about the first hundred miles. Donna had a great stash of Van and I brought along a caseful; but for all we listened to the music, it might have well been turned off. While Sean caught up on his sleep in the backseat, Donna and I brushed up on our talking skills, and we didn't shut up until we got to DC.

By the time we hit DC, there wasn't enough time to do anything but drop our bags at the hotel, freshen up and head over to the preshow for a beer and off to the show - the runt, as Dan calls it. It was most certainly that. At one point in the show, I began to wonder if it was all my fault...that perhaps during one of the umpteenth times of listening to Ned on Whining Boy Moan I didn't in despair wish for a night exactly like this: great setlist, great band, great voice. It sounds like the kind of thing I would wish for. I'll be more careful what I wish for next time. What it felt like at the time was the Boston show shrink-wrapped with all the air taken out of it; unwrap it later, add a bit of water, and watch it expand.

The grousing was in fine form post show, and no matter how easy it is intellectually to brush off a show like this, I think it hung like a pall over some of us the next day. Tourist day. DC is a great place to play the tourist - so much history and culture stacked up by the Potomac. I had a mind to "do" the Smithsonian, or as much of it as I could fit in. So I met up with Donna after her morning with Robert and Sean on the 3M tour - monuments, museums and memorials on The Mall, and we did the Smithsonian American History Museum for awhile. They actually have a little room in there that is devoted to First Ladies ballgowns, if you can believe it. The men's clothing was all down in the war section.

Donna had had enough for the day, so we headed outside to hunt for lunch, which in some towns is an easy task. Not so in DC, at least down in the neck of the woods we were in...surrounded by block after block after block of austere-looking government buildings. Not a restaurant in sight, just buildings and sidewalk. We were about to give up, but saw a sign for a food court in the Ronald Reagan Building and beetled our way in there. Our pita wraps hit the spot, then Donna was off back up to the hotel while I went back to tackle the next in line of the Smithsonians - this time the Museum of Natural History. I liked this one better - they have a great collection of fossils and skeletons and all that good stuff. And this is the place to see the famous Hope Diamond. It's this huge 45 carat blue diamond set in platinum; it looks blue because of the traces of boron within it, and apparently the thing will glow red for a few minutes if exposed to UV light. We didn't get to see that part, though.

The afternoon was running out of time, so it was off to the preshow, walking along The Mall on a beautiful sunny day. A perfect day to be in DC. Then north along 17th, where I happened upon an only-in-DC moment - headquarters for the Office of Thrift Supervision. What thrift, pray tell, is that? Who are they trying to fool? And if there's no thrift, what is there to supervise?

Good to wash all that down with a beer at The Exchange. We're a bit more of a crowd tonight, being Friday night and all. Our good buddy Alan Larson and three of his friends, plus Rose and Jim, made the drive up from North Carolina, Leslie and her friend, Missy from Florida, Tom Q, Mike and his wife, joined the repeat offenders from the night before. Great job hosting, Randy! Great town and you found a great bar - actually it looked like it might be the only bar - just a hop, skip and a jump from the venue.

The concert, of course, was fabulous, and we were a considerably happier crowd back at The Exchange after the show. A round of celebratory drinks later, those of us left still standing headed up to Dupont Circle in a hunt for pizza. We learned a little bit about geography, DC style, on the way, but in the end were able to stuff ourselves with some pretty decent pie. Some people headed off to rest their weary heads, but upholding the British tradition, Rose, Jim and I went for a quiet drink. But just one, because Donna and I are heading home in the morning, and it would be good if I could get a move on before noon.

And we did. Fortified with multiple cups of coffee, we were packed up and ready to go by late morning, a little sad that we weren't going to Atlantic City for the last night of the tour, but consoling ourselves with thoughts of the two Connecticut shows coming up in October. We felt like the paragons of restraint. Donna drove the whole way, just like she did on the drive down (company car rules) and I sat shotgun, incompetently in charge of the CD changer selection. But once again, our mouths got the best of us, and we just picked up where we left off. A great day for a drive, with just one scenic detour for lunch - at Elkton's favorite lunch spot - Lena's sub and sandwich shop. As the lady behind the counter told us, Elkton, Maryland, is the wedding capital in those parts - you just come into town, pick up your papers and go down to City Hall - all on one tank of gas. No wait and no dilly-dallying around with second thoughts.

From Maryland it was on through Delaware, New Jersey, New York, Connecticut, and Massachusetts, where Donna could call it quits, while I drove on up to New Hampshire. A whirlwind tour of the eastern United States, and another excellent Van vacation done with. I've got my eye on those Canadian shows; we'll just have to see how my loan manager sizes that one up.

See you at the show!

Washington DC final night

You had to know...in the sense that you don't know a damn thing...that he'd deliver a full plate tonight, given the meager serving the night before. If he felt like he owed us one, he'd be right, in my eyes at least.

This was the flip side of the Boston show. Boston we got fluid motion from start to finish. He was on one train, and it never stopped until the end of On Hynford Street. Tonight's show had that much bolder edge to it - the kind where the crescendos come into play a lot, the bass line driving it, making me sit forward and work the beat, get involved with the music. This was definitely a night to be in the good seats, but alas, not tonight for me - Donna and I, doing the austerity bit, are renting seats further up the side and the sound has a harder time making it up there. And that is my only whine of the evening.

Van came in to sit at the piano for Northern Muse. It's starting to feel like a standard. I take full advantage of my seat location, which is directly across from him, same vantage as last night, to see his face while he's playing. He performs the song like it's a private moment for him and it sets the mood for the night. And again into Fair Play. I don't know what I'd kick off my top ten songs to take to the desert island, but something's going to have to go to make room for this one. The song just oozes gorgeous throughout, lilting, where his voice wraps around each note, gently caressing it, bringing it up and down the scale, hi-ho silver, caressing the lyrics around the notes, over field and stream. And then there are Jay's skillful fingers moving up and down the fretboard as he and Van play it to the end. I'm sure I could be talking about any night he's sung this, had I been there, but I have the audacity to think tonight's version seemed even better than Boston. But, you know, I remember sitting there in Boston thinking it couldn't possibly get any better than this. It's just that kind of song.

The Mystery and Foreign Window follow, and while nice additions to the setlist, neither of these are ones Van takes off this mortal plane, they are just lovely to listen to, a reminder of what beautiful songs there throughout his back catalog that are being given an airing. Then the mood shifts for Streets of Arklow. There's a real New Orleans feel to it tonight, like a companion piece to St. James Infirmary, with a no prima donna thrown in during his sax solo leading up to the don't pull no punches ending. In the Garden is a bit of a blur - the holy guardian angels have made me forget, but it must have been good, even though the fullness of the sound was lost up along the sides, because that's what my notes say.

The AW set continues to evolve, and we got to see some big changes in places, but some were more subtle, like the ending of Astral Weeks, where Caledonia is now a place for Jay to roam around the notes, as quiet as you please, the audience enraptured in silence. Beside You had a real passion to it; maybe it was Van building up to Slim Slow Slider, which overnight has become a workshop, with all sorts of interesting things going on.

Some prima donna-inspired lyrics...

lipstick on the mirror
fur coat on the floor
cases of brandy and whiskey
going in and out the door

And this time he goes down to Wespoint Grove to get a ticket at the station for the Rock Island Line in between visits to the German doctor for some railway carriage charm. The dynamics are in full play throughout the song, with solos serving as conduits to the next, higher level. Talk about turning a cow's ear into a silk purse when Van brings a song to life. I hope it's got a long shelf life.

The Sweet Thing>Burning Ground powerhouse is next, the segue coming with Van on harp, then singing ever so quietly take my hand, with a call for long notes Daddy, take me down to the burning ground. Taking us along for the ride.

If there's going to be an ebb, there's got to be a flow, and so a stroll through Cyprus Avenue and Young Lovers Do, and Ballerina for that matter, with the first and last of those three dabbing their toes in interesting bits toward the end but cut short, in order to get us to the next one, ending the AW set with yet another take on Madame George, so very quiet this time, leaving the final song of the night, On Hynford Street, to be the powerhouse closer. I can't remember how he started it in Boston, but tonight he sings take me back before repeating the line in spoken verse, and the mesmerizing way of the words take over. And that's where he left us.

Van walked off the stage and was out the door, leaving the band standing there unemployed in the spotlight for a full minute if not more, I'm sure wondering whether there was going to be a Gloria. The crowd, most certainly wanting for more, clapped for more; even the lights coming up didn't deter them. All to no avail, as Van was gone.

They don't come much better than this.

DAR Constitution Hall August 7 setlist

Bit of a late night last night...too much celebrating after a glorious show perhaps (how can there ever be too much celebrating?)

So, the morning after, here is the setlist from last night:

Northern Muse
Fair Play
The Mystery
Foreign Window
Streets of Arklow>Don't Pull No Punches, Don't Push the River
In the Garden
Astral Weeks
Beside You
Slim Slow Slider
Sweet Thing>Burning Ground
Cyprus Avenue
Young Lovers Do
Ballerina
Madame George
On Hyndford Street

Another gem of a show. Simply superb. Van making amends big time. I've got lots to talk about when I get home, but for now, Donna and I are making ready for the drive back to New England. It's a darn good thing there won't be any signs for Atlantic City on the drive home - because, sure as shooting, we'd be making that detour.

First night in DC

I'll pick up where I left off ... going to bed Wednesday morning just in advance of the birds' wake-up call. I never would have heard them, though, what with the music from Tuesday night's show filling up that space inside my head. Morning, as it often does, came too soon, but not without its rewards...lying there in bed, and with the birds long gone about their day, there was nothing but the music of Tuesday night running through my head to luxuriate in.

But not for long...lots to do this non-travel day before hitting the road for DC. We could have gone to the beach for an afternoon jumping the waves and watching the evening fireworks at Hampton Beach, or we could have gone exploring some of the local trails. But in the end that turned out to be far too ambitious a plan and we stayed right where we were, taking a lounging day and stuffing ourselves with cherries, simply because we could. Lots of music on the stereo, with Veedon Fleece and Hard Nose the Highway leading off the rotation, a Caledonian day, with the music floating out to the porch as we enjoyed the sights and sounds of a beautiful summer's day in New Hampshire, with just enough time to end it on the couch to watch the St. Luke's video, getting to remind ourselves just how great it sounds when Van is inspired, in this case, with the likes of Georgie Fame.

We were up with the birds Thursday morning - just enough time for some coffee and load up on CDs for the car ride ahead. Out the door at 7 and down to Donna's just after 8, we officially got ourselves on the road by 8:30. The GPS lady said we'd be in DC by 4:01, although as the hours passed, she became somewhat less optimistic about our progress over hill and dale. I think it was all those stops for coffee, although I think the traffic getting through New York City played its own part. But in the end, it just gave us more time to listen to Van and chat up the state of affairs in Vandom - and we all know, there are never enough hours for that.

It was a little before 6 when Donna and I dropped Sean off at his hotel and headed over to ours. Just enough time to park the car, drop off our bags, brush the teeth, comb the hair and off to the preshow. When I asked the concierge fellow for walking directions to The Exchange, he looked at me dumbfounded and asked me where we were from. Apparently, walking more than a few blocks is reserved for those who don't know any better or are from New Hampshire. But how else do you see a city you've spent the day driving to get to? Obviously by cab.

But we'd have none of it, and 15-minute walk to The Exchange got us there in plenty of time for a beer and a chat with the fans who'd come in for two nights of Van. With Boston setting the stage, it was hard for all of us not to be a wee bit excited about tonight's show. Who knew what to expect? The man is always full of surprises, and the anticipation was running high. It was good to see Mike Steiner and Cheryl, Dan, Robert, Mike and Lori, our host Randy, with we three road warriors rounding out the table. Where was Alan? Maybe he and a few others are only coming to the Friday night show, who knows?

It's a short walk to the venue, and even accounting for the leisurely stroll over and the climb up the stairs to our box seats along the side, plenty of time to sit and wait, as once again, Van starts 10 minutes late. A far cry from the days when if you didn't get there half an hour early, you ran the risk of missing the opening.

I loved the box seats - room to shift my very comfortable cushioned chair around to get a full-on view of Van, binoculars out, notebook at the ready. Donna was in the next box, and between the two of us, had our boxmates simply drooling in anticipation about what they were in store for - for all of them, this was their first concert. And I couldn't help thinking what a great place to start.

It sure didn't take long to rid myself of that notion. Although count me in as always being the last to know. I was having a great time where I was sitting - the band was in place on stage, my binoculars peeled on an archway stage right, waiting for Van to appear. And somewhere around 8:15, he did, walking through, and in the dim light looking like Gigi was holding his arm with her hand, propelling him along. He came in to sit and the piano to the sound of rapturous applause. My seat gave me a great view of his face, bathed in white spotlight. And I settled in for another great night of music.

But it was not to be. Van had a bee in his bonnet about something and he was making everyone around him pay. He was having none of it. And what a shame. A beautiful setlist, marred by whatever it was that was pissing him off. In Fair Play, he called out something, gesturing to someplace vaguely to his left...maybe it was a sound problem, although hard to tell. And from that moment on, it was a series of problems - his onstage table needed to be moved, some tea with honey for his dry throat, and at one point, beckoning Pete, the stage manager cum go-fer, onto the stage for a confab. Next thing you know, there's Peter rummaging through assorted papers on a desk offstage, finally finding what Van was looking for, bringing them onstage, where Van never looked at them again. I have no idea what was up on the night, but with the music sounding like sounding like a diluted bucket of washwater, I had loads of time to be distracted by all the comings and goings. Van was not pleased to be there and simply played out his 100 minutes. It couldn't go by fast enough for him.

Simply the most lackluster show, and a real shame for the money he is asking for these days. Although to be fair, if this was your first time seeing Van, you got a beautiful voice singing some lovely songs. And if you hate that whooping and yelling from the audience during Van's shows, this was a perfect show for you. Dead silence out here. I think we were all looking forward to this excruciating experience to be over.

It's the morning after, and easy to imagine that tonight is the night to make amends. Let's hope whatever put him out of sorts yesterday has been dealt with.

You just never know with Van. He's never gonna fake it like Johnny Ray. He plays it like he's feeling. No faking it like Johnny Ray around these parts.

Looking at my watch, I've got a couple of hours to see what's up in DC. I missed the early-riser group, who were off at the ungodly hour of 9 to soak up the sights of Washington - there are no shortage of monuments in this town and twice as many museums. I've got my eye set on the Smithsonian. Just enough time to get in some edukashun before the preshow.

DAR Constitution Hall night one setlist

DAR Constitution Hall
Washington, DC
August 6, 2009

Setlist

Northern Muse
Fair Play
The Mystery
Streets of Arklow
In the Garden
Astral Weeks
Beside You
Slim Slow Slider
Sweet Thing
Cyprus Avenue
Young Lovers Do
Ballerina
Madame George
Listen to the Lion
Foreign Window
It's All in the Game
Queen of the Slipstream
Brown Eyed Girl
Mystic Eyes>Gloria

Terry Adams and Michael Graham have switched seats, but other than that, it all looks the same as in Boston, as you'd expect.

I'm going to leave you overnight with a chance to absorb the setlist and imagine the kind of show we got tonight. I'll be back in the morning with the details, but this morning came far too early for man or beast, with a lot of miles to cover to get here. Number one DC thing to do right now is get some sleep.

go with the flow

Tuesday was gig day - always a good day. Not really a travel day, as I call Boston my home town when describing Van concerts, but I do have to cross a state border to get there these days. I was down in Boston by lunchtime, picking up Sean at the airport. He's doing all four shows, so he's just getting started. Well, we all are, but some of us have longer trips than others. But right now we're just focused on Boston. Seeing what it is he's going to bring us this time. These are glorious times in Van's live music, with the buildup exactly the way you like it: not having a clue what's in store next.

This gigging is a job, not much time for anything else when you're hopping from city to city, following the show around. Just enough time to take a shower, clean up a bit, and head over to the preshow, the concert, a drink afterward, to bed and off the next day to wherever the tour is going next. Most of the time it doesn't give you much chance for sightseeing. But Sean and I have got a couple of hours before the preshow - just enough time for Sean to get acquainted with some of the sights and sounds of Boston. Perfect day for a walkabout, beautiful sunshine-filled day, although by the time we got to Sweetwater four hours later, we were glad of the air conditioning and the chance to rehydrate. Folks started arriving about 5:00, most of them locals - Donna, Bob and Nancy, Dan H., Mike F., Jim, Bill and Nancy, Pat A., Diane, George H., who I was very glad to meet for the first time, and from further afield, Dan, Robert, Bob C., and further still, the winners of the longest-distance contest, Wilfred and Lizet from Holland. They were in New York on holidays and saw that Van was playing in Boston, so made the side trip. I know I've forgotten a few names and faces, not unusual it seems. The buzz was what we might expect tonight: two sets or one, a sprinkling of Astral Weeks or the whole thing. No bets were placed, therefore no losers. But no one came close to predicting what we ended up getting - but that's the joy of it, what keeps us coming back - not knowing what's coming.

Last night, after I got home, my mind was so full of the music; sitting here at my computer, I couldn't for the life of me come up with any way to describe it. Beautiful was all I could think of.

And it certainly was that. What we got was a seamless piece of poetry set to an extraordinarily fine piece of music. Amazing to see how Van Morrison "live" keeps growing. The band has gelled around this music, they know how to play it fluidly - the word that kept coming to me last night during the show was "lush." From Northern Muse to On Hynford Street, it was a classically performed suite. I imagine that this is how you'd feel if you were a classical music lover seated at symphony hall to hear Mozart's Requiem. This was Van's symphony for Boston.

The show started at 8:10 - or at least the band came out at 8:10, and waited for a while for Van to come out. The audience started clapping in a now-what-do-we-do way, then Van walked on to sit at the piano for Northern Muse, and the clapping turned into one of joyous appreciation. The Boston crowd is consistent, if nothing else. Their appreciation for Van always seems so heartfelt, not always polite, but always magnanimous. And Van is always able to manipulate the Boston audience - he knows how to make them squeal and, in the next minute, bring them to humble silence.

In retrospect, easy to see how good Northern Muse worked as the opener on the night. It set the style and the tone, laid the table, so to speak, for the night. One song after another - Fair Play, The Mystery, Hard Nose the Highway, Streets of Arklow, In the Garden, and then directly into Astral Weeks. If his plan is to wean us off Astral Weeks, the first six songs of the night got the job done magnificently. But we didn't have to be weaned; we got the best of both worlds - songs chosen and performed to match the ethereal beauty that he creates with the AW songs. This is the music we love, the music that takes us to that place of beauty, suspended in Van's telling of it.

To this untrained ear, the music was what I've come to recognize with this band - very capable, knowing of the music, able to make it so Van can maneuver around in it. We might get a bit more solos as things move along, but tonight, we only get a sprinkling; and of those, Richie on sax and Jay on guitar are the ones that compelled me to pay attention. Van on guitar would often engage with Tony on violin and with Jay on guitar, adding that extra layer to the music, eventually layer upon layer to make it that lush sound that lifted it off the mortal plane. When I find myself smiling in contentment, usually it's during some Jay workings. Richie's clarinet work during On Hyndford Street had me grinning too.

I'm not one to wish away my life, but during Fair Play I was so blown away with how magnificent it sounded, with everyone on stage working to create what sounded like a masterpiece. That's what I wrote in my notes, anyway. What I didn't write down was how I could hardly wait for DC so I could hear this again, if I'm lucky. That was the first song I said that on, but it sure wasn't the last. I couldn't have wanted for more. At the end of Arklow, he intones "Go with the flow, don't pull no punches, don't push the river," and to be honest, going with the flow was the only thing available to do - he made it so easy for us.

In the Astral Weeks set, he put Slim Slow Slider in second spot, giving me pause to think perhaps it would only be a handful of AW songs, but no, it was just another change in the order. I actually get a real kick out of the different sequencing with the AW songs; it makes for different twists in the story, but we always end up with the dynamics of Madame George - to the moon and back, tonight ending in quiet reflection and reminding me once again why this song stands out in the pantheon.

On Hynford Street, which followed, was one of those synchronous moments: Donna and I rose as one, mouthing OMG! (with about 16 more exclamation points added on) and then came back down to our seats, sitting there in relative awe, thinking this was one for the books.

The show was certainly one for the books. It didn't have the glorious, driving highs that'll get you all curfuzzled in the moment; rather, it was a night of beauty, where not a moment was wasted and not a moment lost. Bring on DC and wherever the music goes from here. These times are the good times, the glorious times in Van's performance art, the times when the music is all it can be. It's not too late to get on the train. Clear sailing ahead.

If you like consensus, you would have liked the post-show. To a body, it was like we had just come from a seven-course meal, loving every minute of it and completely stuffed. What a night.

filled to the brim

Wang Theatre, Boston
August 4, 2009

Setlist :
Northern Muse
Fair Play
The Mystery
Hard Nose the Highway
Streets of Arklow>You Don't Pull No Punches, But You Don't Push the River
In the Garden
Astral Weeks
Slim Slow Slider
Beside You
Sweet Thing
Cyprus Avenue
Young Lovers Do
Ballerina
Madame George
On Hynford Street
Mystic Eyes>Gloria

The band, beginning stage right:
Paul Moran, trumpet, organ; Tony Fitzgibbon, violin; Richie Buckley, saxophone, clarinet, flute; Michael Graham and Terry Adams, cello; Bobby Ruggiero, drums; David Hayes, bass; Jay Berliner, guitar; Rick Schlosser, percussion

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
This had to be one of if not the most beautiful live performances of anything I have ever heard. I kid you not. It was one of those nights you couldn't have seen coming. But getting blindsided by the music is not a bad thing at all. It wasn't just the setlist - although, if you take a look at it, it's a thing to behold - it was the level that Van chose to perform it, from Northern Muse to On Hynford Street. It was as though he set the dial to "beautiful" and never let it stray from that mark throughout the performance. The set was about an hour and 45 minutes, but whether it was one hour, two hours, or five hours, it would never have been enough.

I'll have to give you all the gory details tomorrow - the birds are going to be chirping soon, and I need to get some shut eye.

I'll leave you with Bob Croll's concise synopsis of tonight's main event:

Van the man, the artist
Van the man, the genius
Van the man, the alchemist

Yes, Bernard, it was a daring night.

magic in the air

Two nights to go till Van's show in Boston, and I'm getting just the teensiest bit excited about it. Astral Weeks in Boston. Where it perhaps really does have a home.

For awhile there, I thought I'd seen my last Astral Weeks live.

Back at the Beacon Theatre in March, sitting there the second night, with the beauty of Astral Weeks around me, I remember thinking that six of these was enough, that I'd like to see them all, but six is enough. With the caveat that if he brought it to Boston, I'd be up for going one more time.

So it is then. One more time again.

When I said that bit about only going if it came to Boston, it's not like I ever thought it would happen; at the time, it seemed more like an empty threat than anything else, so to be getting another opportunity definitely goes on the plus side of the ledger. I want to hear for myself how the music has evolved since that first night at the Hollywood Bowl back in November. It has come so alive over the months. I think the band has that thing Van is looking for in musicians - people who can get the music down so they can take it to the next level, following Van around wherever he goes. The perfect vehicle for a superb night of music.

The show's at the Wang. The same venue he played March of last year, the last time Van played Boston. Donna and I have seats together; we wanted to avoid the balcony, so got some on the floor, near the front of the second orchestra section, center. I'll have to let you know later, but they look like good seats so far.

The forecast for Tuesday is magic in the air.