Dave Matthews: Dude, was that you?

by Thomas Dimopoulos

SARATOGA SPRINGS - Ever since the frigid spring morning when more than 100 die-hard fans braved frosty temperatures at the SPAC box office, they had been waiting for this weekend’s pair of shows by the Dave Matthews Band.

A little more than a decade ago, Dave Matthews, the bartender, was mixing drinks at Miller’s Bar in Charlottesville, Va.
One of his customers, keyboard player LeRoi Moore, introduced Matthews to drummer
Carter Beauford, who knew bassist Stefan Lessard. When the foursome recruited violinist Boyd Tinsley, the lineup of the Dave Matthews Band was complete.

The switchboard at The Saratogian lit up all Wednesday afternoon. It was, coincidentally, the first day of track season, as well. I picked up one of the calls coming into the newsroom. This is how that conversation went.

“Guess who I just ran into at the golf course?” the caller said.
“Uh, I dunno,” I said.
“No, really, go on and guess,” said the voice on the other end.
“Okay, um -- Elvis?” I said.
“No dude, Dave Matthews. Can you believe it? Dave Matthews is in town shooting 18 holes.”

A half-hour later another call, a different voice.

“Hey guess who I just ran into at the racetrack?” the caller said.
“Who?” I said.
“No, you gotta guess.”
(What is it with these people?)
“I dunno, Elvis?” I said.
“Elvis? Elvis is dead, man. Dave Matthews, you know, the rock star.”

It seems if there isn’t fire, at least there is smoke.
For the remainder of the day, in fact, there were several calls that reported Dave Matthews spottings everywhere.

He was eating a falafel at Esperanto.
He was buying strings at Saratoga Guitar.
If the stories were to be believed, he was alternately riding the Carousel in Congress Park, sipping Ethiopian blend at Starbucks and riding The Comet at The Great Escape - and that was only in the afternoon.

By nightfall, there were Dave spottings at the New Music Night at Caffe Lena, in the audience at Skidmore listening to author Rick Moody read from his works, and sitting in a red convertible at the Malta Drive-In during the screening of the feature film “Scooby Doo.”

A quick check of the band’s tour schedule showed a performance at Boston’s Tweeter Center the night before, and a Hartford date on Friday, so the timing seemed a little bit strange. Especially with a pair of shows - tonight and Monday slated for Saratoga. But hey, stranger things have happened.

A check of the area hotels yielded nothing out of the ordinary.
No police barricades.
No lines of tube-topped girls.
And no sign of television sets being hurled from hotel windows.
Even a check of the telephone listings was no help.

Of the six different Dave Matthews listed in the phone book, three had recorded messages whose nondistinct voices eliminated them as suspects; two denied any connection whatsoever, and one engaged in a conversation that - while proving he wasn’t the Dave Matthews in question - had an entertaining gift of gab. He also posed a question of his own.

“You media people are always looking for news tips, right?” he said.
“Well, you seem like a decent fella, so I’ll let you in on something I saw today,” he offered. “I was at the spring filling up my bottles with water, like I do every morning. I turn around, and who do you think is standing right behind me?”
“Let me guess,” I said.
By this time I knew the routine.
“It was Dave Matthews, wasn’t it?”
“No,” he said all crotchety all of a sudden.
“I’m Dave Matthews. The guy standing behind me was Elvis,” he said.
Then he hung up.

The Saratogian