March 25, 2011
Better Than: Drinking Jim Beam and getting arrested for kicking and breaking a glass door.
This reporter (and the rest of the world) loves you so much, Rachel Goodrich.
You were born to be a superstar with millions of followers on Twitter. And Rachel baby, when you went up onstage this past Friday night, looked me in the eyes as I stood in the crowd below, held up your drink, and said, "I'm drinking Jim Beam tonight, not Wild Turkey!" I felt the spiritual connection between us. (I had written a blog three months ago which mentioned that Rachel was drinking Wild Turkey brand whiskey at Churchill's Pub.)
"Oh gosh Jason, get ahold of yourself!" whispered my inner voice.
Since Rachel is now a professional performer residing in Hollywood, everyone in the audience probably felt like she was talking to them. The shake-a-billy began. And our modern-day Joan Baez was wearing tight white denim jeans, black sneakers, and a white cotton v-neck t-shirt. She strummed her sunburst Rickenbacker semi-hollow-body electric guitar while she flung her long brown beautiful hair from side to side. Every man in the audience developed a crush. There was a huge smile on her face throughout the entire set as she danced and sang into the microphone.
Her rhythm section kept the tempo upbeat and provided background vocals. It was the Rachel Goodrich power trio: The lady herself, a young female on drums, and an older gentleman with a beard and sunglasses on bass guitar. Between one of the songs, she said, "Miami, I love you so much. It is so great to be here. It is so hot outside." After she said that, the man next to me yelled, "You're hot!" Then the guy next to him yelled out, "The drummer's hot!" Then they high-fived each other.
I am going to be honest and say that I wish Rachel had chosen a different venue for her big homecoming show. That's just my selfish opinion, though. Maybe because I'm used to seeing her perform at Churchill's ... But the vocals really needed to be turned up, we could barely hear her sweet song lyrics. The Stage is one of those temporary Miami-style venues in the Design District that you would hear your mother describe as "funky." The crowd was made up of my fellow thirtysomethings, all very well dressed, the smell of men's cologne filling the air, open button-down shirts exposing hairy chests, slicked back hair, $10 beers.
There was an art gallery opening going on across the street at Spinello's, and there were "reserved" markers on almost all of the tables that were surrounded by comfy couches. It made the music that Rachel was playing seem secondary to something else that was going on. People were on the outside patio drinking and talking so loud that you could barely hear the band. Locos Por Juana played after Rachel Goodrich, but I missed them.
But hey, this was Rachel's homecoming show! Don't let me be a party pooper. Watching Rachel shake her little booty up on the stage as she played "Fire," I just know that she is going to be bigger than Lady Gaga! Rachel represents the people in Miami who love Tiny Tim. Rachel Goodrich has an inner light that shines bright like the sun. After the set, I went over to say hello and give her a gift.
The Crowd: Grown-up frat boys
Overheard in the Crowd: "She popped this big whitehead on my back this morning, brah."
Random Detail: Walking up to the club, I noticed so many little teeny Ziploc bags on the ground. Way more than usual.
Rachel Goodrich's Partial Setlist:
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