Shadow Ticket finally dropped today and you know I was always going to be a day one buyer.

In fact, picking up Shadow Ticket made up nearly the whole of my plans yesterday, the rest of which I intended to spend lounging with Kat and checking out Matty and Ryan playing with the return of the Richards/Piper/Leslie trio at the Food Shed in City Heights. In preparation I’ve had something of an extended Pynchon moment, moreso even than usual: last week I caught Paul Thomas Anderson’s excellent Vineland re-imagining One Battle After Another (Actually much more faithful than I expected!), followed up by a reread of Bleeding Edge to really slide back into late style Pynch, and in the cooldown portion of my runs I’ve even been listening to Jonny Greenwood’s score to Inherent Vice.

(I’m really due for another rewatch of that film, and maybe a reread of the book, too. This comment on the above video really cements it: “There is something about this movie which you will never understand and yet you are there by your own wish”)

We stopped first at Mysterious Galaxy in hopes of supporting an independent retailer, though apparently their focus on speculative fiction doesn’t extend quite so far as whatever it is Pynchon does. Of course I can never leave a bookstore empty-handed, so I still picked up Laura van den Berg’s new Sate of Paradise, which I at first mistook for Vandermeer’s Absolution. Still need to cop that one, though maybe not at hardcover prices. Sorry, Jeff!

On to Barnes & Noble, which for all its big retail chain hellishness remains, at least on a technicality, a place which sells books, and those deserve support. Plus it had a $3 Off sticker; bag acquired.

We got back to the apartment and I idly opened Instagram before starting on Shadow Ticket only to find Matty had to drop off the night’s bill. Never let it be said I am but a mere doomscroller; this is the second gig I’ve gotten in as many months off an Instagram story.

(And I did eventually get to crack open Shadow Ticket. Still too early to form much of an opinion, though as usual the character names alone are worth the price of admission: Boynt Crosstown, Zbig Dubinski, Vito Guardalabene, Hoagie Hivnak and Lino “the Dump Truck” Trapanese have all made appearances so far.)

The last time Stevie came to town and played in a trio with Piper and Nick was also the first time Kat came to see me play, so in a way this felt like a full circle moment. We ran back to my place for my guitar and amp and in no time it was showtime.

I had planned to play guitar at the Witches Tower show Ryan booked back in May and ended up going the all-acoustic route. Playing my original set from that show made for another full circle moment. I woke up that morning with Judas Priest’s “Painkiller” stuck in my head and sang it incessantly while making Kat salmon and raviolini so obviously that opened our driving playlist, followed by Vhol’s sophomore album Deeper Than Sky. (We desperately need another album from that band.)

Maybe it was Vhol, maybe it was all the Voivod I’ve been mainlining while running lately, either way I was abusing the whammy last night, rocking all kinds of woozy chords and harmonics. People seemed into it, from Nick:

To Ryan:

To Lucas, who I thanked for coming out to the last minute show (and dragging Roger!), then responded, “You know what wasn’t last minute? That outfit.” The linen pants strike again!

The Richards/Piper/Leslie trio reformed for this gig ahead of Stevie and Ryan’s East Coast dates with Mike Meanstreetz. This whole improvised music scene sure is a small world, huh? Piper played acoustic, while Stevie moved between his horn and a compact version of the modular setup he brought to town last time. I always wonder what it’s like traveling to tour with a modular rig. Maybe the TSA is full of synth heads who can distinguish their VCOs from their SCRs. Shoutout to Nick for busting out the tambourine, a rare genuine surprise in a free improv set.

Ryan closed the show with a stunning workout of the tenor sax’s expressive possibilities, at various points playing duck calls on just the mouthpiece, then the horn itself without the mouthpiece and finally bringing it back together at the end in a fashion equally gorgeous and brutal. I thought it when I heard him play in a trio with Piper and Hubbard last month, but he and Piper share a real knack for bringing sounds I’ve never heard in nature out of acoustic instruments. Good thing they have a band together:

Ryan and I reflected warmly on our first meeting, when we played what Dylan called “an intimate recording session,” in other words yet another banner night of playing our little hearts out for three or four people. Hey, at least after this gig I got to take one of them out to Mothership for a drink.