Upon arriving at the Echo Wednesday night with my mom after a fatiguing soccer practice that left me all sweaty, I proceeded to panic due to the sign looming on the door stating that the concert was 18+. I walked over to a small sandwich shop and drank a smoothie to sooth my nerves, but in situations like these, even liquidized fruit could not cure my apprehension. Together, my mother and I stood in line at the door while observing a homeless man fiddle with a broken record player; both of us had our finger crossed so tightly that our knuckles turned white and shook. The official-looking man checking ID’s looked expectantly at me as if I might actually be 18; however, I just had to shake my head gloomily. To my delight, after explaining for quite some time how I was invited by Ms. Puckett and how I was a journalist, I was admitted. This resulted in an excited-but-under-my-breath, “YESSS!” which was followed by a celebratory fist-bump.
Doors opened, as usual, over an hour before the first band came on stage. So, my mom and I entertained us by watching the dizzying lights cast by the disco ball hovering over our heads circle around the room hypnotically. I tried to text my friends, but a disapproving dagger shot from my mom’s eyes returned me to the oh-so-exciting pursuit of gazing at the repositioning illuminations.
After about forty-five minutes of that exciting activity, the house lights dimmed and a murmur overtook the crowd. I bounced with nervous anticipation on the balls of my feet and repeatedly looked behind me to smile at my mom. I simply could not wait. It took a few good minutes of arranging and rearranging to cram the whole band on the tiny stage. Piled one on top of the other, the drummer could be seen after a good five minutes search and the stand up bass could be found hiding behind the saxophone trio. I quickly identified Claire as the drained girl (and the only girl) who sipped from a green and brown coffee cup. She clearly was still sick from when I talked to her on Sunday.
Mother Falcon began with an exceedingly memorable melody that showcased the impeccable intonation of the massive ensemble and the modest but remarkable vocals of the mandolin and cello player seated next to Claire in the front row. After tearing my eyes away from the mandolin (which fascinated me), I roved my eyes around to observe the lithe and capable violinist and the enjoyable and fun accordion-player. As time passed, I witnessed an extraordinary and jazzy violin solo along with an astonishing and amusing saxophone duel. I cannot find words to express the cohesive sound this band produced. Their ability to blend instruments together into each other to create different (good) noises truly astounded me. I dare say I was ready for encore after encore (except for the fact that I felt terrible for poor Claire who’s voice was clearly undergoing deep agony from the illness that plagued her). The music completely blew me away; my mom and I were converted. We ended up buying all their music and listened to it the whole ride home.
I had a blast. Thank you Mother Falcon!
Zoe Adler is a music journalist from Long Beach, California. Besides her website, which is her pride and joy, she works with the GRAMMY Foundation and the Long Beach Independent. Additionally, Ms. Adler is a musician, spending half of her time playing the flute, piccolo, trombone, and marching baritone. She has been with TeenView Music since the very start and hopes to make something of it in the future.