Quick Hit at the Pickle Barrel Killington, VT January 29 2025 by Jimm O’D

So this was an interesting show  It was the ‘peak’ event for a mini vacation, three nights staying over with two days skiing, followed by Mihali at the Pickle Barrel. The weather turned nice one day, the skiing was great the next day, and dinner was excellent at The Garlic right across the street Wednesday night. And I think I met a woman Tuesday night. Maybe that’s why I was especially “up” and stuff didn’t bother me like it so often might.

I made it right on time for Mihali’s first set (do we still call him ‘Mickey?’), toured the joint, and quickly ascertained that I would not be getting any videos from a bird’s eye view. The big dude with the Security t-shirt made that plenty clear, which is fine; he’s just doing his job. It would seem that a full house downstairs does not establish a congregation of worshipping admirers sufficient to open the sanctum floodgates. I don’t know how many more bodies than two hundred it would take to open it up and maybe let the herd thin to a level anything like luxurious; but in the meantime the area was secured as a strictly “VIP” zone.

Of course, “VIP” does not mean ME. Well, sometimes it does. No, wait- there have been plenty of times, back when I was following Twiddle, Gubbilidis, Mihali & Friends, Brickdrop, and any number of co-conspirators up in the Nectar’s neighborhood. It’s all well and good, to enjoy the privilege and reciprocation of hanging in a green room or two, or stepping backstage or behind festival fences, but that was then and here we are now. Neither did the words ‘photo-journalist’ or ‘blogger’ carry any weight for this fellow. Or comprehension, as far as I could tell.

The same went for a small, elevated platform that would have done the job almost as well. After a while, it occurred to me that the nature of my need might not have occurred to the gentleman guarding the space and guiding my placement. So I asked: “you get that I just want to get up there and get some good video, right- that I’m not just some jamoke trying to be a dick?” Oh yeah, he understood that just fine. Then he kindly suggested to go talk to… somebody; I’m not sure who or where he meant.

So I took another couple of laps around the place and got some shifty vids from behind and overhead. The audients at hand were all neighborly and courteous, making way for me right by the stage or at the rail and such. They made room with smiles and complete comprehension. One such particularly lovely individual saw me coming in for the front row, and she totally welcomed me up with my hand-held device. This is how it used to be. Turns out she’s partnered up with a certain Bearded One, the humble brother who has been with the crew for over a decade, since back in the Bangstafunk days.

I also then had the extra-special pleasure of running into a couple of extra-special individuals who I hadn’t seen in a long while, and even then only in Twiddle tangentia from around the Boston scene. These were the connections that bolstered the sense of fellowship with Primates and adherents of the Great Eighth President all circling around from Boston to Burlington and back. It’s all the fault of one Frankenphil and a certain Barn Bash of epic measure. Good times!

Back to the moment, this moment… I did do some running around looking for one or another person of some supposed authority, but of course each directed me to another- with nothing clearly defined, like even an actual identity- until finally I was as sure as I could be that I had climbed to the top of the ground-level ladder, and this one seemed even less certain of anything including his own autonomy.

I am not at all sure that any of these many staffers understood my mission to any great extent, but they all understood their own with great assuredness… and this did not include the simple practice of being helpful, or taking an interest, active or otherwise, in the affairs of one who, I’m pretty sure, was obviously not some clown trying to skeeve himself into getting some kind of unwarranted advantage. Scratch that; now I think about it, the handling I got wasn’t even reasonable, really.

I know there’s nothing ‘wrong’ with this picture. It didn’t feel like the same scene as it used to be- Nor should it. Without even factoring covid into the equation, the simple truth is, things change. And besides, I am now officially OLD. Which is also fine, but this is the year that I start coming to grips with this reality. Being ALMOST sixty-five, and then actually BEING sixty-five, are not quite the same thing as being OVER sixty-five. And there we are.

I just happened to be over by the merch table, having been advised that this was where I would find THE actual top-tier individual in the whole place- I do believe I heard the word ‘manager’ -near as I could tell, however, that one must have disappeared and left this feller in his place. Funny thing, though: this guy both matched the physical description and occupied the same physical space as I had been sent to seek.

Anyhoo… there i was, standing right at Stage Left right when the real boss- the artist- was stepping off for his break. Pretty cool, right? Long time. Always a pleasure. And really nice, really, that Mickey-hali always seems genuinely happy to see this ol’ boy.

The moment of impact was so unexpected that it qualifies as a surprise. We had that quick “wait-what” microsecond of recognition, and then I quickly reached out and hugged him- it having slipped my mind, you see, that Mihali Souvladis really ain’t the huggin’ kind. Oh, well; no harm done- the action switched back into his comfort zone- a good, old-fashioned handshake… a few words and there’s a fine how’d’ya-do for ya, and… well, now I feel like I’ve had me a good, full night already. Mission accomplished, personally speaking.

Now, I don’t suppose any of these folks thought much at all about crossing paths again that night; no worries there. Even so, it felt weird as hell leaving before the show was over. Half-way through the second set, I suddenly realized that with a split-second decision, I could split and save myself a mile or so walk across the frozen tundra of Rutland. It’s a bus thing. The last couple runs from up on the hill down to Rut-Vegas don’t go… well, they don’t go the extra mile out Route 7 to where I’m staying.

And there it is. The music was great- of course. How could it not be? The dude is freakin’ amazing. You know that. Or, if you don’t- like, if you’re one of my friends who strictly insists on the presence and interaction, the chemistry, that comes with a band- and if we’ve talked about the wonders that can be worked by a wonder-worker with the right stuff in his hands for the ideas in his head… then, PLEASE give a listen, take a look, dig what this guy does.

You don’t need me to tell you what you see. Granted, I could maybe do a little better with the aural documentation… but the point is made. Many great points are made here. I tell ya what really jumped out at me, this particular time out- I dig it when an acoustic guitar sounds like lead electric. Because it’s played that way. I don’t think it’s something just anyone can do. And for those who do pursue this particular specialty, not all of them can reach this level.

It looks to me Mihali is playing one of those awesome hybrid acoustic/electric axes, but even if so, it’s more the former than the other. As far as I understand or intuit such things, the acoustic guitar is much harder to play like an electric, especially the stinging, searing, soaring leads. It has to do with the thickness of the strings, their ‘action,’ or height off the frets, all like that-there technical stuff.

Mickey’s solo stage has filled up a lot. Dig the bass-on-a-stick. And on his other side, we can see a fairly elaborate bank of electronics, percussion pads, and what-not tech-y stuff. Such an impressive array might make a mess of things in the hands of one with less know-how and ability, but we all know that Mihali has always been innovative in every aspect of his being, whether it’s his soul, his guitar pyrotechnics, his sophisticated lyrics and appropriate accompaniments, or his transcendent sensibilities when he caresses, coaxes, or otherwise crushes it with his axe. This has always been true, astonishingly so; and this magic manifests in whatever form or format he explores.

I had planned on staying through and risking that one last bus at midnight; but when I happened to notice the time, I did the adult thing and took the safe bet for a ride all the way to my hotel door. On the one hand, it felt awkward as hell skipping out like that; and on the other hand it was, as Stienman said in ‘77, “cold and lonely in the deep dark night.” Like I said, though, It felt kinda chilly inside, too. I was OK with bouncing off from the atmosphere.

All things considered, I found myself sufficiently satisfied to feel that the job had been done. Satiated, too- by the sounds- as it should be. It’s always a lotta sonics when Mihali Souvladis plays. I was even something close to ‘satisfied,’ but any lack in that part of the experience had to do with my own disappointment, I suppose. My expectations exceeded those of the average consumer. I really had no business asking for so much.

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