Farrar was in town.

Jay Farrar played the Belly Up in Solana Beach on Monday night, and the Coach House in San Juan Capistrano last night. Rose and I were there for both nights. Bridges and Sherowski joined us for the Coach House gig.

What can I say about a Farrar show? He’s not known for his “on-stage antics.” Hell, he doesn’t have any. He’s humble, with simple monotone offerings of “Thanks” in between every other song. He comes out, plays the songs, does an encore or two and calls it a night. I can’t really say I enjoy the show, but it’s almost as if I’m out there for other reasons I can’t put my finger on. Maybe I’m just there to give thanks to the guy. He’s way up there on my list, and I don’t know if I can put into words what those tunes mean to me. There are a couple tunes that just sort of have an effect on me.

They remind me of home. They remind me of Minneapolis. They remind me of the freedom of the open road and sadness of a Midwestern town. They remind me of the uncanny sameness of Middle America. All in a good way, transcending the bullshit California offers.

So I won’t try to pitch the Farrar show as some big spectacle. Not even close. Just a guy and his songs. Sometimes that’s all I need.

Mark Spencer accompanied him on guitar. He provided the twang for the night. I was impressed. Brian Henneman from the Bottle Rockets opened each night. It was good to see him. Ryno and I saw the Bottle Rockets one time in Minneapolis. They were amazing. Tom Parr wouldn’t sing. No big whup. They make me want to check out Festus, Missouri.

I miss that Midwest real bad.