Remember that mason jar I asked you to fill with $20? Well, bust it open now. Hey, look! Found money! Might as well use it to go see the Icky House Club…

“How can I get even the tiniest bit of that supernova of awesomeness to rub off upon me?” I hear you ask.

I will tell you: Her band, The Icky House Club, is performing this Friday at Don’t Tell Mama.

You… don’t believe me? You will, Doctor Jones. Or, to reference another 80′s movie entirely: You know that new sound you’re looking for? Well listen to this!

The Icky House Club on Myspace. (Please note that I’m posting a link to a musician, the only valid use of Myspace in the year 2010.)

Now that you’ve been infected by their infectious infectiousness, here are the relevant concert details from Don’t Tell Mama.

I’d tell you to buy your tickets now, but according to the link they’re only accepting cash at the door. So what you should do is this: Get a Ball mason jar, put an Avery or Brother P-Touch label upon it that reads, “Icky House Club, Friday November 12, 9:15 PM,” and put $20 in the jar to cover admission and the two drink minimum. By the time Friday rolls around, it’ll be like found money! Woo hoo!

The woman playing Beatrice was someone I’d met a few times before. The first time I met her, she’d auditioned for an improv troupe I was in. She did not get cast. The second time, I auditioned for a role in a production of “The Fantasticks” that she was assistant directing. I did not get cast.

But now we were cast together, and we were getting to know each other quite well. There were a few knowing glances. A few casual hand touches. Some definite sparks.

One sunny afternoon after rehearsal, this woman… let’s call her Paula… stated that she was going to the Newport Center Mall after rehearsal to buy a new jean jacket. So desperate was I to spend more time with her that I volunteered to go with her. As we departed the mall and were about to go our separate ways, she suggested we stop at Starbucks for a frappuccino. We drank our frappuccinos by the Hudson River piers at Newport. We made small talk. Small talk became deep talk. Suddenly, we began to kiss.

“Are you asking me out?” she asked.
“Yes, I am.” I replied.
“Well you’d better do it right.”

I officially asked her out on a date.

On that date, ten years ago tonight, we had dinner at Da Rosina on Restaurant Row and then went to see Brian Stokes Mitchell in “Kiss Me Kate.” It was torrentially raining when we met, so we had to hide for a while under the awning of the church in which they were doing “Tony and Tina’s Wedding.” But that evening after “Kiss Me Kate” the weather was clear enough for us to walk over to Bryant Park and make out.

Yes, technically our wedding anniversary is the more important one. But I will never forget the night ten years ago, when I had a spectacularly successful first date with the love of my life.

So, last night, as predicted, Paula, Mickey, and Carlos, a.k.a. The Icky House Club, rocked the house at the Duplex. I was on photography duty. Alas, it was something of a tough room for photography, but I think I got a few decent shots.

The rest of the Icky House Club Photos can be found by clicking appropriately.

Well, I’m going to have to do that again, so bear with me.

My wife is part of a truly wonderful musical group known as “The Icky House Club.”

I’ve actually known all three members of this group for quite a while.  Naturally, I’ve known my wife for a good long time.  Carlos, the other singer, is a very good friend of mine with the most gorgeous tenor voice you’ve ever heard.  We were in a production of “Children of Eden” together.  (He played Adam.  I played third schlub from the left.)  Mickey, the guitarist, front-man, songwriter, and other other singer is also a good, long-time friend, although I’ve actually known him as a performer and songwriter for longer than I have as a friend.  He, too, is brilliant.

The musical result is a whole that is far greater than the sum of its parts.  I’ve seen different incarnations of Mickey’s bands before, but Mickey, Paula, and Carlos make a perfect trio of vocal harmonies.  It’s as smooth and rich as butter wrapped in silk.

I don’t go around plugging shows all that often, and I wish there was a way to convince you that it’s not just because Paula’s my wife, and Carlos and Mickey are my friends.  They really are that good.  Please, if you can, do me a favor and go check out their show.  I promise, upon my honor, you won’t regret it.

The Icky House Club: Lost in Playland
With Special Guest: Uke Skywalker
Friday, November 13, 2009, at 7:00 PM
The Duplex: 61 Christopher St., NYC
$10 cover and 2 drink minimum