The better the band, the later they play. This sometimes-inconvenient reality dictated that the band I was going to see didn’t start until, technically, the day *after* the date stamped on the ticket. I found myself shivering on an ice-caked sidewalk at half past midnight, clutching a ticket and thinking seriously about the wisdom of late-night shows after the age of 30. The sidewalk was outside Pearl’s/Your Mom’s House, a bar/music venue that opened just about a year ago in Capitol Hill. A guy with multiple facial tattoos checked my ID (“Reynaldo” on the cheekbone... Read More