In October, 2017 I was on the road with Mark Kozelek. It was part of the series of shows he did with a classical pianist and a small string section called the Magik Magik Orchestra. Sonic Youth’s Steve Shelley played drums.
I had a morning and afternoon off in Washington D.C. The night before I made a reservation to tour the U.S. Capitol. Experiencing it up close was something I’d wanted to do for a long time. I took an Uber from the Marriott Fairfield Inn. The front lawn was already bustling.
A friend had asked me if this was something I really wanted to do. Trump was in office and life was very depressing. I believe in democracy, and in the concept of America, no matter who is President. I’m very proud to be able to vote. You can’t do that in a lot of places. Besides, I wanted to see the plaque of Athenian statesman Solon, located high up on a wall in the House of Representatives.
My first stop was the basement museum. It’s pretty small, but has lots of information crammed in. I tried to be as thorough as I could with the exhibits. Most people just poked around and left after a few minutes.
Next was the Capitol itself. My group’s leader was a young man who wore a red vest and was very serious and focused. We watched a short film and loitered in the statue and painting-filled Rotunda. The guide worked very hard to keep everyone under control.
Next on my agenda was the The House. Security tightened up quickly. I roamed across the street to the office of my Representative, Adam Schiff, to pick up a pass to enter the Visitors Gallery.
After going through a metal detector I moved to the crowded lobby, where icon Maxine Waters made eye contact with me. The encounter was totally random. I wondered if she’d recognized me from the gig the night before, or maybe she was a Spain fan. That moment was such a thrill for me.
I took the elevator upstairs. There was a long hallway. I reached a sign that read, “Adam B. Schiff, California” and then, “Welcome, please come in”. I opened the door to a reception area no bigger than a walk-in closet. Around the corner, in a similarly-tiny room, I could hear Schiff talking. People were packed in. It sounded important. The receptionist looked like she’d just finished a photo shoot for Vogue magazine. I told her I was picking up a Visitors Gallery pass. She asked me where I was from, and what I was doing visiting D.C., just trying to be friendly. I told her I was from Silver Lake, and was on tour with Mark Kozelek. She stared at me blankly.
I returned across the street and entered “The House Wing”. Things got a bit more hectic. I was directed to the gift shop where I had to empty my pockets into a little plastic box. My keys, credit card, drivers license, and cash, all were placed inside. I also had to temporarily relinquish my cell phone. The shop clerks were gravely serious.
I joined one of several queues of sightseers, separated into groups. I didn’t have my phone so obviously I couldn’t take photos. Everything was strict and orderly. Officers with guns watched over us. We went up some floors, and down some floors. At every turn was posted a reminder to behave.
We finally arrived at the entrance to the Gallery, a balcony overlooking the House Chamber. By then it was afternoon and we were informed that the politicians had left for the day. I stood in line for about twenty minutes. After going through another metal detector, we were led within. I was struck by how worn everything seemed. The walls and doors reminded me of a beach house I once stayed at on the Jersey Shore, everything baking in the sun and salt air.
Several sets of doors formed a facade. The closest were already open. The pilgrims ahead of me filed in. The next pair of doors were shut. I couldn’t discern any signs that either denied or allowed entrance to these. I just wanted to stare at the marble relief portraits lining the walls in peace. I didn’t have anything against the tourists. I wanted to sit by myself. I turned the knob and made my way in. After taking a seat, a guard immediately yelled at me. Why did you go through those doors? There wasn’t anything telling me not to, I told him. Stand up and join the others, he said. I went through the open doors and sat with everyone else. The tourists ignored us. A second guard shrugged his shoulders and grinned at me.
When I gazed across the chamber, I couldn’t find the Solon portrait. Realizing it must be above and behind me, I got to my feet and turned around. Why are you standing? shouted the guard. I want to see Solon, I responded. Sit down! he said sternly.
I could’ve stayed for hours, but when the others got up to leave, I thought it best to follow them. I smiled at the guard and said thanks, but he didn’t acknowledge me. We strode, en masse, back through the metal detector and down the elevator to the main floor. I retrieved my keys, credit card, driver’s license, cash, and phone. Everything was accounted for.
I ambled down the street and the sunlight to the Library of Congress and waited for my Uber. I had seen no violence or coup d'état. Just several groups of curious people who wanted to glimpse and appreciate where laws are debated and made. The guards were strict but fair.
The next morning, Mark and I and the rest of the band took a train to NYC, where we played at Town Hall.
Mark (left) and Steve Shelley in D.C.
Sun Kil Moon featuring Magik Magik Orchestra, Steve Shelley on drums, Josh Haden on bass, Miracle Theater, Washington D.C. 5 October 2017.
Thanks for reading my Substack. If you like it, feel free to subscribe. Better yet, please consider a paid subscription. You’ll be able to support and follow me as I write my Mémoire, a book about life, death, jazz, slowcore, and survival.
Fun read. I got my start in DC on the House side.