In the dream, Susan Sontag is standing outside the
empty shop window where Hunt and Gather on Jefferson Street used to be. I
recognize her by her hair's skunk white streak, and well, I just recognize her
from having read her critical essays and the novels, notably The Volcano
Lover. She's gesturing at the abandoned enterprise, like there was
something very particular she had been hoping to shop for there, some object
that she was counting on getting that she cannot now purchase. On behalf of the
entire town of Farmington, Missouri, I grab her by the hand and walk her over (it's
not far, I tell her, you could hit a golf ball from here to there, I
say) to a place, the only place this side of St. Louis, where I am certain she can fulfill her desire, whatever it may
be—The Vault—our local lunch spot cum nightclub, and so much more, our Ground
Zero for a diverse community who love live, original music and value its practitioners.
"Go with me to the vault." — William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet, Act V, Scene 3 |
Upon entering The Vault, Ms. Sontag immediately esteems the
grayscale décor and relaxes as she surmises that she's in a place of indelible
memories. She traces with her forefinger the white labyrinth swirl of the hypno wheel decal—or
is it a vortex?—sealed on the surface of every
table top. She sits in one of the comfortable
padded black chairs, looks up at the high ceilings, heat ducts and industrial
piping traversing the long rectangular room in what once was a shirts and pants
factory and says, the Lower East Side? I shake my head no. Williamsburg?
No, not Brooklyn, either, I tell her, Missouri. Farmington, Missouri. Amazing, she exclaims. Amazing, I agree.
Her eyes soon travel admiringly past the compact food and
beverage kiosk where artist owner Kerry Smith
whips up her culinary wizardry—the beautifully composed
panini, gourmet hotdogs, and enticingly named salads—the Harvest,
the Lux. Kerry put the Mean Bean on the menu without even trying it herself
first, just because she liked the way the ingredients sounded together,
I tell her, and it's delicious!
KDHX St. Louis DJ Bob Reuter's Band is coming back to The Vault on March 9th! |
Susan's big eyes scrutinize The Vault's
distinctive signature posters and banners announcing upcoming shows, all
designed by owner, bass player, and musical curator Tim Smith, and she gasps with pleasure at
the representations of burlesque troupes and bizarre circus emporia that have
moved so many people here, myself included, right out of our comfort zones. I
wonder if she's already noticed the same small hidden image Tim often includes
in The Vault's posters, the thing you can look and look for and not see, but
then when you see it, you see it always. She approvingly reads the canvases of
the other artists whose work the Smiths so generously feature on the walls of
their club, before giving her full attention to The Vault's focal point, its raison d'être—the custom-built stage.
Tim goes to the back and puts on a little Zoe Boekbinder for
her, followed by a little Shenandoah Davis, Hymn for Her, End Times Spasm Band,
then Sleepy Kitty, keeping it a mite cerebral just the way she likes it, and
she taps her foot while taking in the black curtains and spotlights, reveling
in the good acoustics and sight lines. Her face breaks out in a eureka smile
and she intones in a lofty voice that Kerry will mimic perfectly later, not
creationism, not intelligent design, but designed intelligently for
Farmington's evolution and flourishing. She listens as I tell her of seeing
a production of Waiting for Godot in Barcelona on my honeymoon, and that
it was performed in Catalan! And she's about to say something about Beckett,
about absurdity, about waiting, I don't know and never learn, because, in the
dream, Kerry comes over with an Apri-Goat with slaw and a Schlafly bitter brew
and Ms. Sontag hungrily devours it, muttering between bites and swallows of
beer, form, content, form, content, form, content...and
I wake up.
After this dream, at the sold out Whistle Pigs show Friday
night, I thought about how important nightlife is for adults if for no other
reason that when driving to The Vault you can look up to the night sky,
experience the expanding universe, see the stars and moon on your way to, on
your way fro. There it is— the Milky Way! And also for
the pleasure of the people watching, we are stardust, we are golden.
Seated in the row just in front of me Friday there were two middle-aged
couples, in their late 50's I would guess, and I couldn't help but notice that
in one, the man flung his arm around his woman and pulled her close every
chance he got (and she loved it!); in the other, the woman with outstretched
fingers on two amorous hands scratched her man's back without inhibition, while
he purred like a contented tiger.
At The Vault, grandmothers dance with their six-year old
grandsons, men and women flirt outrageously with each other, same sex couples
can feel at home. At The Vault we always laugh about something, we always cheer
each other on. At The Vault, someone in the band will invariably say how
attentive we in the audience are, how you can hear a pin drop, how they can't
wait to come back and perform for us again. And it’s true, we are— attentive and grateful for the chance
to feel and be part of the larger musical currents criss-crossing the country.
We've got some really great shows to look forward to here in
Farmington, Missouri, now that Tim Smith has single-handedly put us on the
musical map as a destination for national touring bands—the Black Belles, Eliza Rickman—those shows will sell out quickly. But it's the ones
in-between, the oddities, the acts you've never heard of until now, the things
that for whatever reason have caught Tim's interest that he wants to share with
us, these are just as much fun to go to, if only to see who else shows up! What a year in music I've had since the Smiths opened The Vault's doors on
March 22, 2011:
Long live The Vault. Viva! Viva! Viva!
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