This brief epiphany of enlightenment came while I was at a live-band night in one of the bar-esque stages on the main square. To anyone who is familiar with Portland, this place reminded me quite vividly of the Crystal Ballroom. Very chic and old-fashioned. The building itself looks like it's hundreds of years old, church-like. Yet the inside is anything BUT church-like. There's a restaurant and bar on the first floor, an "underground" venue and bar in the basement, and two bars on the floor above along with this ballroom. It was surprisingly large for a place you could have missed if you didn't know what you were looking for. Actually, it could be exactly the kind of place you'd find if you WEREN'T looking for it. Like Alice and the rabbit hole or Aladdin and the lamp, its the type of gem you sometimes stumble upon when you're doing something completely different. This place had that type of untapped magical feel, and when I walked in with my three American friends, I knew I was in for a good time.
We listened to three bands that were absolutely fantastic. There were the usual tone glitches and tech problems, but all three of these bands had "the light". Whatever it is is that makes a person tap their foot ever so gently with the rhythm and not even realize they're doing it, these groups had it, especially the middle group. A band subtly christened "Poor Edward" was my favorite of the night, and I actually shook the lead singer's hand afterword when I was coming out of the men's room and saw him. They reminded me of another group that I've recently fallen head-over-heels for...Manchester Orchestra. The lead singers literally look identical: similar body types, similar singing ranges, similar playing style, and I loved every minute of it. One thing Poor Edward had that M.O. doesn't was a back-up-singing bass player who was without a doubt the final ingredient to making this band so phenomenal. P.S. the picture isn't actually Poor Edward but the band that played after them called "Lead By Example". They weren't as breathtaking, and a little more boyish, but still good, and I dig their band name.
(That's my boy Matt from Mass. chillin behind me in this photo).... It was while I was sitting on a stool, leaning back against the wall, surrounded by friends and 15 feet from the main stage with room to spare, that I made The Discovery. I had just paid zero pounds and zero pence to close my eyes peacefully in a half-empty-hole-in-the-wall-small-venue-ballroom and listen to pure, untapped talent serenade me in the middle of the night, in the dead center of Scotland's greatest city. And when you picture it that way, can it really be possible NOT to believe in miracles?
One plane ticket to Edinburgh: a small fortune. Nearly eight straight nights of loud, partying, drunk Scots and Americans: time, frustration, and even more money. Finally making THE DISCOVERY: priceless.
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