H&H hearts H2O

First, let me issue the disclaimer that Hall & Oates did not come into the Half & Half while they were here in Portland. But they were here over the weekend, playing at The Schnitz, and that in itself is note-worthy because I am a huge fan of Hall & Oates, and Hall in particular. Jeff will tolerate a little Hall & Oates because he knows it will put me in a good mood. None of our employees could identify their music and just the other day when we were listening to Chicago, Brian asked "is this Hall & Oates?"

My love for Hall & Oates does not stem back to early childhood but rather my early 20's and the influence of my older brother, Ken (aka "fuckin' Hall & Oates Ken", a story for another day.) In a nutshell, he got turned on to the "White Philly Soul" by some unnamed source. Never liking them much as a kid, I didn't believe they had any relevence to me except as a joke, but he started peppering mix tapes with a little Sarah Smile, a little Private Eyes, and before you knew it, Hall & Oates were my favorite band, EVER. The reality is, I only like a handful of songs, and most of them are before the apex of 1982's H20. But the vocal stylings of Daryl Hall are nothing to laugh about. And the man can dance! Over the last 10 years I've had pleasure of seeing them live twice, and though there's few weirder, or whiter, experiences than being part of a Hall & Oates audience, I am always blown away by Hall's moves.

Two months ago I learned they would be here June 10. After weighing it for a few days I decided not to spend $50 on a bad seat and I would just try my luck winning the tickets on the radio. I never win anything, and the one time they were giving away tickets while I was listening, I was driving and my phone was at home on the bedstand.

So, by Friday it became evident that I wasn't going to see Hall & Oates. A fantasy, much like the one I created in 6th grade about Duran Duran's tour bus breaking down in front of my house, began to evolve. I would be working. It would just happen that I would be playing a little H&O, and they would just happen to walk in. "Hey!" they would exclaim, "Cool Place! Great Music!" They would be so flattered that someone so young, lovely and intelligent as I would be listening to their music. They would ask if I was going to the show, I would stammer and say something about not getting tickets in time, and they would insist I come as their guest, with backstage passes. In fact, we would dine together before the concert, and after the show we'd hug and exchange email addresses.

This did not happen. I managed to get Hall & Oates out of my mind for most of the weekend, except for one moment at a barbeque on Saturday, when it occured to me that less than 2 miles away, they were probably singing "Rich Girl." Why didn't I just spend the $50?

This morning when I came into work, Amanda left me notes from the weekend. We were out of tempeh and tomatoes, and she couldn't unscrew the screen from the right portafilter on the espresso machine. At the bottom of the page, she'd written "Hall was at Counter Media today and he bought a bunch of dirty books!!!!" Hall of course being Daryl and Counter Media being our beloved smut-peddling neighbor and dirty books being dirty books. While Daryl was shopping, the Counter Media employee ran over to see if I was working. Had I been, I'm not sure what I would have done. Stalked him in the Adult Anime section? Beckoned him next door with a latte and a dance routine to "Private Eyes?" It blows my mind a little bit, and as much as I would have loved to meet the Real Daryl Hall (there's not much use for Oates, is there?), I wouldn't be able to do anything but laugh hysterically and imagine what an amazing blog post this would make.