You Can't Always Get What You Want

When I was a child, the Odd Fellows Hall was a mysterious place where secret ceremonies took place and word had it there was a skeleton in their closet. Literally. This kept us going with enough mystery in our young lives for about two summers. I longed to be able to enter its hallowed halls and see what the hoopla was all about.

Fast forward.

For much of the '90's I attended small concerts, very small, in what is known in folk music circles as Grass Roots concerts. They started out in living rooms and then expanded into venues like the Odd Fellows Hall. It created an intimate atmosphere:  a dimly lit room with a few folding chairs on a hardwood floor, church pews circling the perimeter and a small makeshift stage at its center. I was fortunate to be introduced to some fine folk artists there who went on to become mainstays of the genre: Utah Phillips, Lucy Kaplansky, John Gorka, and Greg Brown, to name a few. They all had an easygoing style that was perfect in that small venue. They sang songs about life, interlaced with stories of their lives, each with a finely honed sense of humor. It was a really nice way to spend an evening. And, I had finally gained admittance. Music in the Odd Fellows Hall. Somehow it made perfect sense.

After a few years, the venue was too small for the crowd that showed up and it became necessary to move it. Unfortunately, the available space was in a nondescript building with very little soul and something, for me, became lost. But, not before a few more folks came through and found a way to overcome its sterility.

One night, we waited patiently for Greg Brown to show. An hour passed. A few folks started drifting away, most heading for The Pickle, a local watering hole, where we would often repair to after the show. When about half the crowd had given up, with the rest of us folk junkies holding firm and keeping the faith, Greg quietly came in and leaned against the doorway. When we realized he had arrived we became a slightly rowdy, happy crew. He took to the little stage, explaining that no one had told him about the new venue. He had gone to the Odd Fellows Hall and wondered where everybody was (this was in the day before cellphones became ubiquitous). Somehow, he discovered where we were waiting.

He relaxed, we relaxed, he played and sang for us few faithful far longer than normal. At the end of the night he jumped into a rousing version of the Rolling Stones, "You Can't Always Get What You Want."  It was perfect. A whole lot of fun. And it has become a part of the soundtrack of my life.

You can't always get what you want
You can't always get what you want, 
You can't always get what you want, 
But if you try sometimes you just might find, 
You just might find,
You get what you need.