Some strange transformation has been taking place in my husband. After decades of spurned invitations to dance, he seems obsessed with wanting to dance and I am exhausted. He used to politely decline my dance requests claiming people would mistake his dancing for a seizure and call 911 for a medical emergency. But I guess as we get older, we don’t care so much what others think because we have had plenty of experience embarrassing ourselves. Mark seems determined to extend his dance repertoire beyond the chicken dance at weddings during visits back to my homeland of Minnesota. This has actually been a lot of fun and tonight we are off to the Holocene to hear a reinterpretation of one of my all time favorite bands, Fleetwood Mac.
They call themselves Fleetmac Wood and consist of a couple of DJ’s playing remixes of old Fleetwood Mac tunes with a heavy disco-like beat. No matter how bad of a dancer you may think you are, I challenge you to try remain seated while hearing the infectious rhythms and sexy dance beat of Fleetmac Wood. Hence, my husband’s insatiable desire to dance. We did a pretty damn good job of it until he tried to take the lead, since I continue to have an inability to follow. With old Fleetwood Mac videos playing on the walls, strobe lighting, and patrons dancing while dressed in Stevie Nicks- like frocks, we had a blast.
Until Mark and I starting exploring more of the music scene in Portland, I had no idea of the many cool venues that exist here. The Holocene does not disappoint. It has a modern industrial look to it with a nicely sized dance floor and seating surrounding the dance floor. It has additional seating in another room that overlooks the dance floor, so there is plenty of seating should be able to resist the urge to shake a leg.
We started our evening at the restaurant, Clark Lewis. It was quite good. But here’s the problem. Portland has such a great food scene that even very good can also mean unremarkable. I had a pepper stuffed with risotto for an appetizer and a simple fresh pasta dish for my main course. My dessert was a chocolate mousse cake with a dark chocolate gelato–a bit of chocolate overkill that would have been better with a vanilla gelato.
I am quite certain we unnerved the patrons of Holocene. Either because they mistook us as someone’s parents or they were afraid of us having heart attacks on the dance floor, since we were easily the oldest people in the place. It surprised me that there were not more people present from the Fleetwood Mac generation. This was our music afterall. On the other hand I realize it is a lot harder to rock and roll in my fifties, tha it was in my teens. As much as I hate to admit it, I have become member of dancing with the oldies club. I just wish there were more oldies dancing out there with us. Oh, and bring your earplugs because it is loud!
I am starting to need a weekend to recover my weekend.
Friday night we got a last minute reservation at clarklewis, where we had not been in years.
It is a solid restaurant where everything is good but nothing that made my mouth say goodness gracious great balls of fire. The dining room is mostly black and minimalist, sort of a reverse New Best Friend look.
The cocktail, a gin based drink, was interesting but tasted slightly of coke, and there was no coke in it. That would be the cola, BTW.
The soup was a thick and delicious corn and bacon chowder, piping hop with a tiny tiny piece of baguette.
The dinner was a sturgeon with potato gratin. The kitchen had a wee bit of coordination issues, as the potatoes were hot but the fish and vegetable were rapidly reaching room temperature. Not bad enough to send back, but close.
The desert was an apple gelato with caramel sauce.
What makes for an exceptional meal? Food that surprises my tongue. Food that I could not make myself. Combinations of flavor and presentation that are unexpected. Clarklewis doesn’t meet that expectation. Maybe it is the lack of capitals in their name; it leads to diminished expectations. Good food. But not great food.
The front of the restaurant are glass garage doors that can be pulled up to open the restaurant to the outside. I think this would be better place for a late lunch on a hot summer day after a walk around the Esplanade rather than dinner.
As we walked to the car we passed Bunk where a four piece band was playing some rock ‘n roll. I suspect I would have enjoyed that food, drink and atmosphere more.
Fleetmac Wood at the Holocene
Last summer my son was in San Francisco and went with friends to see Fleetmac Wood. They are a pair of DJ’s who play only Fleetwood Mac, both straight-up and remixes. It sounded fun, so when I saw it advertised in Willamette Week, I got a pair tickets and let my son know we were going. His response?
I don’t think you going to that concert is a good idea.
It’s a crowded, sweaty dance party.
You’ll hate it.
You’re going to leave after 10 minutes.
Just be open minded and cover your drink.
Really. That’s a twenty something talking to his parents, not the other way around. Kids these days.
It was a blast and we danced ’till midnight to the music of Fleetwood Mac.
You might think ick, but I keep in mind the words of Eddy from Absolutely Fabulous
There are so many people.
What people? I see no people.
I see no people.
I see no people.
What’s our philosophy, darling?
I’ll never see any of these people ever again.
It’s our philosophy of life, darling.
I’m not sure.
Do you know what I’m looking at here? It’s a prisoner.
You’re a prisoner.
Do you know what your cage is? Other people’s eyes.
Why do you care what they think? They’re keeping you in this cage.
Of course Eddy was trying to talk her daughter into flashing Paris from the top of the Eiffel Tower. But still.
The goal in life is not to give a rats ass what others think. Don’t be a prisoner in the cage of other people’s eyes.
Holocene is a great venue. Lots of seating, important for us geezers, and a great sound system. My only quibble is they do not realize that there is supposed to be actual alcohol in the mixed drinks.
The show was a blast. Many in the audience dressed in the de rigour all white or like Stevie Nicks. I am not much of a dancer (once they called the paramedics as someone thought I was having a gran mal seizure), but I did not care. It is fun to dance in the dark especially as I let Kerry lead. There is a reason I am still married after 29 years.
My only issue was that the sound was like boiling a frog. They say of you put a frog in water and very slowly turn up the heat it will not notice until it is cooked. As the evening progressed the music became slowly louder and I did not notice. When we left I had the muffle of too loud sound. If I had paid more attention I would have used my acoustic ear plugs. Us geezers need to protect what little hearing we have.
Oh yeah, and you, that flatulence guy who likes to go to shows and cut loose. Take it outside. Geeze.