Alan Whitney and The Beekeepers live at Saxon Studios on Saturday night may have been one of the most intimate performances I've ever seen. This wasn't just a performance, but a limited-seat concert, recorded live. In my experience, the studio can be both a beautiful and an ugly place; lots of creativity co-mingling with head-butting, a collision of conflict and creation. It's fascinating and miraculous and at the same time, kind of like watching a baby being born, or eavesdropping in the confessional.

Whitney allowed a small crowd in to watch it all unfold. The music was magnificent, with Whitney feeding off his fans' fascination and energy. The songs were country and soul and rock 'n' roll, with Whitney swapping between his Strat and a jet black flat-top box. His voice positively boomed, and he owned every note in his impressive range. Magic moment No. 2 - of many that night - was when he brought us all into the Fedder building's drab stairwell (for its natural reverb) to record a little soul-tinged number called "My Weakness" as we gathered around on the stairs. In trying to get the groove for him and his bassist, Whitney paused, and said, "Let me get it in my body" before bopping his head, snapping his fingers, and conjuring the rhythm up from the floor. We could all feel it in our bodies, too. What a memorable and cool event.

Saturday night was bartender Chopsi's swan song at Water Street Music Hall. The man has been pouring drinks and listening to drunks - and loud music - since 1946. Steve Grills and The Roadmasters were working through the blues in the man's honor when I blew in. Grills filled the room with his big guitar and boogie. Though his set is fairly standard, he still manages to find new spots on the neck. I always watch him with a mixture or jealousy, envy, and awe.

Wandered over to Monty's Krown to see The Quartershots after that. The trio had dropped off some tracks from its upcoming release, and they blew me away. The band has graduated from bop-style 80's rockabilly to a swinging blend of greasy punk rock, like Motorhead in blue suede shoes. But alas, the band didn't show. But I stuck around to see Buffalo's Clockers followed with some muscular, high-speed rock with an OC aftertaste. These guys were tight as hell, and a lot of fun. My wife even loved them, and she hates everything.