Fall

Just off the highway, the traffic hum was soft - it was a while before rush hour traffic.

The air was still, like surface water waiting to freeze. Above, the grey clouds were translucent in the afternoon light, reflecting on the bright crimson trees below that lined the cathedral walkway.
From beside me , I heard the suggestion "let's throw some leaves in the air - you can take a picture!".
The idea was like the last breath of summer , letting itself go out in style as Fall died too, and before i knew it, the leaves danced downward, like the snow that we already felt in the air, and i was reminded of a line I heard a long time ago;
on a clear day, you can see forever.

Matthew Sweet

Mathew who?

Well, up to recently, I didn't know , but now I know - Matthew Sweet had a lot of buzz in the US back in my college days, but since I spent my college days neither in the US or college, he was a mystery to me.

Here at First Avenue, Minneapolis' leading rock venue, all the ex-college crowd were out in force, hell bent on some of that sweet sweet, erm, Sweet.

And lemme tell ya, that guy has the voice of an angel and belted out a barrage of strong pop songs that defy category. I know that may be a little cliched, but it's true. But more of that in a little while; "howabouta hand f'r de op'nin' act..."

The Bridge, a largely blond young Alabama band were treading the boards pushing their new album which was produced by Mr. Sweet. An all female frontline sang super harmonies over well written eclectic pop/rock/retro numbers, driven from behind by a skinny young drummer that was totally engaged and engaging - think Levon Helm as a skinny young guy in a t shirt.

They finished their set to a well impressed audience, and made way for Mr. Sweet and his band, who looked like they could have fathered most of the opening act, or maybe just rolled 'em and smoked 'em . The drummer was lost under a hair-filled trilby hat and beard. Somewhere in there was a man.
The first guitar player was every inch the Jimmy Page- style rocker with some great RAAaaaawwwkkk! licks.

All together, they made a sweet (sorry) sound and drove each song out of the park, and amongst the many fans were an inordinate number who sang every note as if it would be their last act on this earth. A testament to Sweet's songs, and/or the fan's drunkenness/loyalty, but I'll vouch for the songs - i only had a few bottles of Grain Belt Premium (when in Rome...), and had they not all been new songs to me, I'm sure I would've been in the thick of the horde, singing amongst the many like I was singing in the shower.
Mr. Sweet, I like you a lot.

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