The Luggage Store is an art gallery off the Civic Center/UN Plaza BART stop. It is a location that is very easy to miss unless you are looking for it. Even if you’re looking for it, you’re unlikely to find it on first glance as there is no visible signage (there is the possibility I am blind on the signage part). I was walking down the street, looking for the address and a sign that said, “Luggage Store.” I walked to a graffiti art covered door without thinking much about it. I noticed that the next door over had an address that indicated I’d gone too far. So I stopped and looked to my left and then to my right. The Luggage Store had to be in between these two addresses. Was this some sort of Harry Potter train station type address? I looked straight ahead and re-noticed the graffiti art covered door. Dead center was an 8.5 x 11 paper sheet that said “Luggage Store Gallery” along with the night’s schedule. Another paper sign was taped next to the door handle. The sign said, “Door is open. Turn & pull.” Does this now sound like Alice in Wonderland? I opened the door and a staircase with graffiti art on either side led me up to the second floor of the building. There, behind a long table, sat three individuals. I handed one of them $6.
The Luggage Store may be my last “new venue” that I explore in San Francisco. At this point, with my time in San Francisco drawing to a close (though I do have a few more weeks here), I figure my time might best be served revisiting some of the venues I’ve already visited. But that’s in the future. On this night at “new venue” The Luggage Store, there was an ongoing summer music series of what they defined as new music. To me, the music sounded like what I heard at The Lab, but far more accessible to a person like me who lacks an appreciation for art music.
First up was a young woman, Lindsey Walker, with hair dyed pink and a bubbly personality. Her music consisted of the sound of her voice layered over and over again. “La la la LA LA LA la la la.” The sound would start soft and would grow in volume as she added additional layers. She’d collapse it all with a single tap and we’d be left with her initial layer, which she’d build upon again. Her music sounded like a chorus of nuns singing inside an ancient European cathedral. And one couldn’t help but notice her smile and occasional giggles.
The final performer of the night was an older gentleman, Doug Lynner, who played a Magical Serge from the 1970s. It had what seemed like a hundred wires that he spent time plugging and unplugging from one slot to the next. At times, his music sounded like what must be considered the music of deep space. At other times, I imagined listening to a choir of Battlestar Galactica cylons. And then at another moment I thought that the music signified the cells of my body singing to me. Or the aurora borealis.
The two did a song together, vocals on top of synthesized sounds. Then Doug Lynner ended the night with a final song. And to end his song, a fire engine roared pass outside and so he felt it represented a perfect way to end his song.
Noticed: A guy sitting next to me was way too into the music, in my opinion. At times, he swayed to the music like he was listening to a gospel choir.
After the music ended, it was off to the BART station. And there I was for 30 minutes. The BART is doing some construction, but 30 minutes is an extreme length of the delay especially when I just wanted to get home and go to bed. It didn’t take long to realize that the BART electronic signs that were stating that the next train was going to arrive in 12 minutes wasn’t right as after five minutes and then ten minutes the time hadn’t change. I was approached by one individual who asked in frustration, “Has there been an announcement about why the train isn’t coming?” When the train finally came, we were packed in like the proverbial sardines. Yeah, life without a car.
Southwest
Comment 1: The chicken is in the pot. The chicken is in the pot. Please authenticate.
Comment 2: We’ve been given permission to take off. Please don’t exit the aircraft. And no flash photography.
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