Happiness is many things to many people. Often times it exists in the form of the simplest things: a dog, a baseball team you love, a favorite book you've read 100 times, painting, surfing, playing the guitar etc... Everyone has at least one little thing that has the capability of elevating their spirits to new heights whenever it's around. For me, that thing is The Beatles. And last night happiness was rocking out to the Beatles cover band "No. 9" with Lisa Marie at the British pub Britannia.
For some reason, having a couple Guinnesses in me, singing every word to every obscure and not-so-obscure song they played, and dancing without a care with other Beatle-freaks, young and old, at a non-pretentious LA bar (for free) made me happier than I've been in ages. From "Run for your life" to "Norweigan Wood" to "Hey Jude" to close out the show, it was pure ecstasy from start to finish.
This particular version of the Fab Four was just great great great great. They didn't exactly look like the Beatles, and they weren't exactly the same age as the Beatles during their heyday, but they obviously knew their stuff and knew it well. They had the voices, the cadences, the personalities and the sharp-witted sense of humor of the boys down to near perfection. Not to mention their versions of the classic songbook certainly did justice to the greatest band of all-time.
When, around midnight, they interrupted the Beatle set with a 2-song David Bowie interlude that included "Suffragette City" and "Ziggy Stardust", I reached a level of elation I have only experienced a few times in my life... Did I mention it was great?
And then there was this girl. Stunningly beautiful, brunette, probably around my age, and looking impossibly cute in this little yellow sundress (perhaps to pay homage to "Yellow Submarine"?) She knew all the words and bounced around the dancefloor like a teenage girl in 1964 would have. I had never seen her in my life but I could tell just by looking at her that she was sweet as can be. It was love at first sight. I wanted to introduce myself, make a clever Beatle reference to break the ice, ask her to dance, and twist-and-shout the night away with her.
Then I noticed who she was there with. None other than... her boyfriend. Of friggin' course. (Every great night has to have at least one dent in it, right?) So I picked my heart up off the floor, dusted it off, swallowed my pride and quickly let the music raise me back up.
"No. 9" plays at Britannia every Sunday night from 9:30pm-1am. I'll be back next week. Yeeah!-Yeeah!-Yeeah!