In other week-beginning news, I am…

…too lazy to write complete sentences or paragraphs.

…very excited to have a Clem Snide concert coming up on Friday.

…surprised that I like eating apples all of a sudden, after years of hating them as well as the people who eat them. Noisily. Everywhere.

…tired of being pulled over by Nashville police, but I guess I can’t complain about the inconvenience of DUI checkpoints and complain about drunk drivers and lenient sentences.

…happy the Cleveland Cavaliers are busy making tee times and dusting off their fishing gear instead of continuing on in the NBA postseason. I look forward to the Orlando Magic joining the Cavaliers very soon. I wonder how the Washington Wizards will screw up the #1 pick in June’s draft.

…tired of hearing about Facebook, and using Facebook. If it wasn’t for Scrabble I’d…well, let’s not ponder a Scrabble-less world.

…still excited to have seen an owl in a park the other day. I don’t think I’ve ever seen an owl outside of a zoo or a book before. HOOT.

Here’s the obligatory cell phone pic from where I initially sat. Once the main show started I scooted over to the right so I could see the stage straight-on.

The Swell Season was even better than I expected. A nice mix of songs from the full band, then Glen and Marketa, then solos from each, some Irish fiddling, and good stuff in the encore(s). A highlight: Glen playing his guitar, completely unplugged, and singing a couple songs by himself at the start of the encore. You could tell he was thrilled to be on stage in such an historic venue.

Wednesday night was reading night: I went to an open mic at Springwater, the pic from Thursday’s post. Here’s how one review of the bar opens:

A speakeasy in the 1920s and rumored gambling haunt of Jimmy Hoffa, Springwater has a certain frozen-in-time feel…

And here’s another:

Springwater is the dirtiest of the dirty, the crappiest of the dive bars in town and damn if they aren’t proud of it. It’s in a tiny broken down building adjacent to Hog Heaven BBQ on the edge of Centennial Park. Every inch of this place screams dilapidated, I couldn’t even tell you what the color of the walls and floor are unless you count grimy as a color.

How could I pass that up? The open mic events are inspired by Nashville’s, and Vanderbilt’s, Fugitive Poets, a group of writers who met regularly in the city in the 1920s and 1930s and who wrote poems, stories, novels, and agrarian manifestos. The Fugitives were definitely at the heart of a literary movement. They also churned out some sketchy stuff, pining away for the lazy, hazy pre-Civil War days, so they’ve been off the grid or out of mainstream literary studies for quite some time.

I think eight or ten writers read, and then those who stuck around read a second time. A guitar player and drummer provided accompaniment for the readers. Poets puffed away on cigarettes between lines. The ambient noise — pool players, Jimmy Hoffa arguing over card games, the usual bar sounds — drowned us out on occasion. I sat on a chair and read a few parts of stories, got a free beer, and walked out of there around midnight thinking that was just about the best way to spend a Wednesday night in Nashville.

Well, mostly reasonable. I’m going to see The Swell Season at the Ryman Auditorium, which ain’t cheap, but I think that’s a good act to see there. (The Swell Season = the duo from the movie “Once.”)

Also on the list: Kevin Gordon and others at a show called Music City Roots — a live radio show recorded at the Loveless Cafe. The Loveless, like the Station Inn, is one of those places you’re supposed to hit up at least once in Nashville. I’ve only driven past it on the way to the Natchez Trace Parkway.

One of my favorite bands, Clem Snide, is scheduled for May 28, so that’s cool. (I’ve mentioned their frontman Eef Barzelay several times.)

I’m sure there will be more on the menu soon. For now, here are some Swell Season songs so you know what they’re all about:

So just about every week I’ve been telling myself I’d make the two minute drive over there, and I didn’t until last night. I’m glad I went — the Time Jumping Station Inn experience met all of my Paltrow-fueled expectations. Great musicians, and enjoyable songs that I’d call a mix of classic/traditional/non-pop country of the 1930s to 1960s, with a few like “All of Me” thrown in…classic standards from across genres.

Vince Gill recently joined The Time Jumpers, and before the show I heard a lot of “Is Vince here tonight?” questions flying around. Mostly from me, because I’m way behind in seeing noted Nashville performers and I get really excited when I think one of them is nearby. Sure enough, Vince was there in his Nashville Predators jersey (Nashville’s hockey team) with “Vince” on the back. I saw this “Vince” early on but figured no, that’s not THE Vince, why would Vince wear a hockey jersey with his name on the back to a Time Jumpers show? Does Gwyneth know about this? Well, he wears it because he’s a Predators fan, that’s why, Paltrow be damned. And maybe he wants to make sure people know his name.

Here is my obligatory blurry camera phone picture of the stage. Mr. Gill is second from the right, playing his fancy guitar, and apparently this is when everyone else was just watching him. They don’t seem to be doing much. Combined with the new pic at the top of this blog page, you’ll now need to update your prescriptions.

The Station Inn is such a small place that during breaks the musicians mill around with everyone else. Consequently, I walked past Vince awkwardly on at least two occasions, and probably made eye contact once or twice.

I also want to point out that all of these musicians are wonderful performers. I may not remember their names, but that’s because they weren’t wearing jerseys that identified them. Time Jumpers, if you’re reading this: I’d consider picking out some personalized Titans or Predators jerseys of your own if Vince is going to keep pulling this “Hey, look at me! I’m Vince Gill!!” stuff every night.

It was a treat to hear the whole band. They put on a great show.

I like whatever it is he’s doing with his guitar about halfway through “Second Chance.” He basically loops together rhythm guitar, a bass line, and some solos, then puts the guitar down and plays drums until the end of the song. I have no idea how that works, but it’s fun to watch.

“Second Chance”

“Fire in Your Belly”