I had a fine weekend, thanks, though it was touch and go Saturday afternoon. You see, Joanna Newsom had engaged to perform a matinee -- an event about which I was quite excited. I'd seen her a year earlier and in the elapsed months had only grown more enthusiastic about her music. Additionally, a matinee sounded to me like such a civilized event. I looked forward to seats, a polite and silent audience, and perhaps warm drinks like cider.

Upon arriving at the prescribed venue, I was somewhat chagrined that there was a line of people waiting to enter. I was perhaps the fifteenth person in it, but as it grew to 200 or more, I counted my good fortune. I scanned my fellows for signs of trouble and was pleased that no one seemed particularly boisterous. At risk of stereotyping, it was the kind of audience you'd expect to see at a Joanna Newsom show. Quiet, generally pale and slightly sad-seeming, clad mostly in rougher knit wools and comfortable-looking shoes, and holding all manner of notebooks, diaries, and sketchpads. Regardless of your taste in music, these are the people you want in the audience. They're appreciative and would do virtually anything to avoid contact with another person, so loud-talking or bumping are highly unlikely.

Then Riddle came.

Riddle will tell you that he's six feet tall because that sounds better when coupled with "250," but he's probably three inches less than that and twenty pounds more. His navy blue fleece pullover covers his innertube well, though, and it is utterly at home matched with his very ill-fitting khaki pants. His New Balance shoes are for trail-running, and, though he says he's always up for J Tree or ultimate Frisbee, Riddle never quite gets around to either.

In the last few years Riddle's hair has begun to change, but his haircut has not. His hairline isn't receding and he hasn't developed a bald spot. And his hair isn't thinning in the way you generally think of hair being thin -- like straight or limp. No, it's as coarse and curly as it ever was when he was 15. It's just kind of becoming transparent. Look at it in the right light, it's wonderful and bushy and dense. But in another light, it's a haze that barely obscures every detail of his shining scalp.

Riddle's voice is deep and booming, he likes the way it sounds, and he loves to use it. Everyone at the agency says that Riddle's the funniest guy they've ever met. He's the best at happy hours and at offsites, because he's the only one who can get the boss to loosen up, and on a business trip... well, he's out of fucking control. He's just a great guy, and hasn't changed a bit since college.

Riddle's totally into all kinds of music. I mean, he digs the Pixies and fucking loves the Beastie Boys and Chemical Brothers and shit like that, but he's up for whatever. Now, granted, he doesn't really get the Joanna Newsom thing, but if you've got the ticket, he's always up for a show. Especially since it's in the afternoon, because there's this fucking awesome rave in Alameda sponsored by Scion -- you know, the car company? Anyway, Mixmaster Mike is spinning, and it's going to be off the hook. After this folkie show, Riddle's going to rally over there. It's totally exclusive and you have to RSVP, but Riddle and some buddies each RSVP'ed plus four, so you guys should be cool.

There were three opening acts, and Riddle never missed the opportunity to voice his feelings about their performances. And, as two of these acts were not advertsed, he became increasingly concerned that he'd miss the Scion pre-party at his buddy's house. Riddle's consternation everntually overcame his love for "whatever" kind of music, and he fomented for an early departure while mocking the "folkies" in attendance. "They have funny clothes!" "Look at their dour faces!" "Where's the flood, highwater?"

In the end, Riddle stayed for the show and he didn't speak once. Considering that he'd barely stopped up to that point, I was amazed and thrilled. If you're reading this, Riddle, I want to thank you and I hope I never see you again.

Analogcabin @ 10:43 AM
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