Last night I went to go see Justin Currie perform at the Doug Fir. The short of it all is that it was one of the best shows I have ever seen.
The long of it is: I got there, met my good friend Sarah (who has a quirky face), had a couple of beers, and went downstairs to see the show. Not a lot of people — I’d say between 70 and 100 — but clearly everyone there loved JC. He came on, looking sharp, and immediately encountered technical problems which visibly irritated him. It was the last show on his tour, so I can imagine he was pretty exhausted and lacking patience. Once solved, he re-entered to great applause and jubilation. It took a couple of songs for him to relax and have a good time. The show seemed to pass quickly, and he ran off stage after the encore, hopefully to a well-earned vacation. Sarah and I, on the other hand, had french toast and a blt at the 24 Hour Hotcake House.
So what’s my deal with Justin Currie? Good lord, he writes the best songs. Three minute gems. I would give my legs to write songs like that. That is not hyperbole. His songs have accompanied me in falling in love, broken hearts, depression and elation. He’s a bit frustrating, really. A brilliant songwriter, still a little hung up over not “making it big”, all very self-deprecating and Scottish sad bastard. Part of me wants him to either hang it all up and quit, part of me wants him to relax and realize what a gift he can give. In the end, though, I think he needs that self-torture to do what he does.