Last Friday, February 6th, I went to see Steve Poltz perform at Java Joe's, a San Diego coffee house one block away from the Pacific Ocean. It had rained heavily all day, part of an endless series of El Niño effect storms that have been pounding California all winter. By late afternoon the showers had stopped, leaving behind rain scrubbed streets and moist, tropical air, which some suggest are easier on a singer's voice than drier conditions. The performance was being held just days before the scheduled release of an EP single, Silver Lining that was receiving heavy promotional air play on XHRM-FM and other local stations. A new album, One Left Shoe, was to follow by mid-March. Because of this, and a convention of record executives and radio programmers that was being held in San Diego all week long, there would be many in the audience who worked in the music industry, swelling the already expected packed house. Taking this into account, I arrived early and was fortunate to be invited to sit in on the sound check. Here I watched all the trivial but important details of preparing for a concert, from balancing the sound, to changing light bulbs, to displaying some new T-shirts at a back booth.

After the rehearsals, I returned outside and waited with a small line of faithful fans who had already gathered. Tickets for the 9 o'clock show didn't go on sale until after 7 p.m. There would be a second show at 11 p.m., but those in the hall would be allowed to remain without having to buy an additional ticket. Finally we were allowed inside to stake out a spot on the floor, where friends and I parked ourselves about five feet away from center stage. All the seats had been moved and angled off on the left side of the high ceiling room. Java Joe's could not to be mistaken for a friend's living room, unless you have friends who light their homes with 25-watt lamps covered with palm fronds, draw on the walls with pastel colored chalk, and apply brown, coffee-stained carpet to their floor. The venue more than offsets its lack of kitschy elegance by drawing upon some of the finest acoustic talent, both locally and beyond, and having the most appreciative and savvy audiences I have seen anywhere. Ticket prices are also right, usually in the three to ten dollar range. Tonight's show was a whopping $12, still an outstanding value.

I had seen Steve perform here last summer, forging out on his own after fronting for his band, the Rugburns, which also included electric guitar player Rob "Doc" Driscoll, drummer "Stinky" Bobcat Goldthwait and Gregory Page on bass and vocals. He had just signed a recording contract with Mercury Records, a division of Polygram, which is also the label for Lauren Christy, Joan Osborne, and Laura Love, and such superstars as Bon Jovi and INXS. Then it was announced that he was working on a new album to be released early in 1998. I came away from that concert experience knowing that I had seen an extraordinary performer who was on the brink of achieving more wide-reaching recognition. Tonight's performance only confirmed and strengthened that belief.

Following Lisa Sanders, who opened for him, and is a fine, captivating performer in her own right, Steve took the stage and was greeted by thunderous applause and cheers from the packed house. He was dressed in a black suit, tie-less white shirt, and spit-shined black thick-soled brogues with an "R" or an "L" in red tape affixed to the top of each one, to ensure that he didn't put the wrong shoe on the wrong foot. Casual, zany, irreverent, and playful were among my first impressions of him. But they were soon overshadowed by his stunning guitar work, masterful phrasing, vocal gymnastics, comforting honey-gravel voice, and lyrical talents that recalled the wit of Cole Porter and the biting, satirical deadpan humor of a Dorothy Parker or a Robert Benchley from another era. In fact, Poltz would have been right at home chilling out with the Algonquin Round Table, in his story-telling, rhyming brilliance, child-like innocence and curiosity, and overall charismatic charm.

Here is a performer with the stage presence of a seasoned trouper, no doubt learned the hard way from playing Chicago South Side gigs and Midwest road houses from Joliet to Kalamazoo. He can stage chatter with the best of them, as witnessed when he led the audience down the primrose path in recounting his meeting up with Rush Limbaugh at a radio convention book signing. How can you not believe someone with such a sincere tone and straight delivery? But it is in his lyrics that he truly shines. From his Rugburns' repertoire which included Mama, Lockjaw and Tree Hugger, to the song he wrote with Jewel, You Were Meant For Me, to Rainbow which he composed with Lisa Sanders, to such newer output as Silver Lining, Kicking Distance of your Heart, Impala, I Thought I Saw You Last Night, and Broken Hearts & Painted Nails, all of which will appear on his new album, One Left Shoe which is due out on March 17th, his masterful use of language and rhyme are apparent. Such verses as "Don't want to hear about Kazinsky, no more about Lewinsky", or "I'm the boy in the bubble and you can't touch me" have a quality about them which transcends the topical flavor of the day, and distills out a deeper essence. Watching Steve perform leaves enduring memories.

Adding to the evening's magic was a surprise appearance by Jewel near the end of Steve's first set. Wearing faded jeans, a soft, black leather jacket, black boots and a brown cowboy hat, and holding a lollipop stick in her right hand, she took the stage without being announced just after Steve had finished singing Tree Huggers. Together they sang a duet of My Old Lover's House, pressed together by one mike, noses practically touching, followed by I Thought I Saw You Last Night. Afterwards, she told the crowd of her awe in first meeting Steve at Java Joe's coffee house in Poway, and asking him for advice. "It was so good," she said, "that it helped my album go triple platinum, while Steve's last CD went double tin-foil." They must like to fight, I thought. Steve hurried over to the second open mike and bragged about being invited to sing the National Anthem at a local Pop Warner football league. Those in the packed house loved it. Later, Jewel would return to the stage with a bottle of mineral water to do another duet, Silver Lining. Then she left for good, mingled with and greeted some of the record label "suits" and radio programmers who were in town for the Gavin Convention, and finally worked her way through the crowds to exit by the front door. It was one of those bonuses to which San Diego audiences are sometimes treated.

Backing Steve on stage were his two able sidemen, the Castro Brothers of Las Vegas, also known as the Two Apostles, John on bass and vocals and James on drums. They are both superb talents, who can hold their own with the best of them. Their subdued playing, back beat and harmonies were a joy to watch. If one looked closely, you could see the votive candles surrounding the stage reflected on the surface of the bass drum, blur each time it was stuck, and the membrane vibrated. It was clear that all the performers were enjoying themselves. Rolling his eyes, squinting, looking bemused, swaying with the doo-wop rhythms of Impala, at times seeming to be lost in inward reflections, Poltz pleased both the crowds and himself. After the show, he would tell me that he felt he was in a special groove and was very happy throughout both sets. It showed. Among the sweetest moments was when Steve invited former Rugburn Gregory Page up on stage. Together they sang Running In Circles and finished with an acappella version of It's a Sin to Tell a Lie. When the last applause finally ended and the lights came up, it was almost 1:30 a.m. Performances like these can make you forget about time, and leave floating on air.

From my notes and memory, here's a reconstruction of the set list:

Revised February 13, 1998 with thanks to Lora Browne, Jim Gottlieb and Larry Greenfield for their suggestions.