Yarn...in the middle of nowhere

This past Friday night, my darling husband and I took a drive down Route 20 (this is the same Route 20 that goes from Boston, MA to Newport, Oregon) to arrive in a small town just east of Cazenovia, known as Nelson.  Allegedly, there was a small (tiny?) music hall in this small (tiny?) hamlet that was bringing in some rather significant Americana acts.  Yarn was playing on Friday, an alternative country/Americana band out of Brooklyn that we had heard once before in Saratoga Springs.

The problem with going on a date in the middle of nowhere is that there are very few dining establishments around.  When our first attempt failed (the restaurant was apparently closed for the winter) we ended up in Cazenovia, a small college town.  One would think a few dining establishments catering to locavores, would exist, but we couldn't find them.  However, we did find the quintessential upstate New York steakhouse that was hopping. This was a no-frills establishment which reminded me of a basement rec room growing up complete with the industrial carpet and the cheap vinyl seats.  The food was very respectable as was the beer.  We learned from our server that the place had been owned by the same person for 50 years and it was closing its doors on Sunday for good (hence the crowds).

Back to Yarn.  As we were trying to find our way along the highway, looking for roadsigns peeking up above the snow, I was reminded of another musical haunt in the Berkshires, The Dream Away Lodge.  Also in the middle of nowhere, this establisment was at least made famous by the likes of Guthrie and Dylan.   The Nelson Odeon is not an old farmhouse (nor a former brothel) like the Dream Away, but a converted grange building.   The property was bought and renovated by a couple who apparently had a vision of bringing musical performances to the fine folks of Nelson.   Whatever marketing they have done seems to have worked as the place was filled  to capacity  (was all of Nelson there?).  What was advertised as two 45 minute sets ended up as four hours of country rock including some fabulous electric mandolin jams (who knew?).  If you can, check out the track, Abilene, by far my favorite.  Before long, this motley crew of Upstaters was dancing in the aisle, beer in hand, singing (relatively on-key) with the band.  Homemade desserts and freshly roasted coffee were sold at the break, and while waiting to use the one bathroom available (although the guys thought the row of pine trees made fine stalls even in subzero weather), we were able to mingle with the owners of the establisment as well as with some of the bandmembers.

We made it home shortly before 1am to two dogs and a couple cats who were a bit confused as to why we were out so late.  The evening was another reminder to me of the hidden cultural gems that lie in our midst for those who wish to seek them out.