"He's going to get a migraine," whispered one woman.
"Not ever," said the good-humored Smith, a veteran TV and film editor who now plays music on the holistic-healing circuit. "I was once out in the woods [and] played 6 1/2 hours."
Hello? Isn't this supposed to be a town where the cutting edge is as dull as a butter knife?
Consider that this was one of the less-adventurous evenings in the 16 years Clearfield has been hosting once-a-month Sunday night concerts that she calls the 1427 Salon. It's an off-the-grid Philadelphia tradition that brings newly wrought classical music, ethnic music, jazz and dance to her Spruce Street apartment, incongruously located only feet from that palace of establishment culture, the Kimmel Center for the Performing Arts (which comes in handy when Clearfield's bathroom is out of order). How does she keep her lease?
"I have great neighbors. I invite them!" says Clearfield, an attractive, 42-year-old woman with a broad smile and, currently, a commission to write a cantata about breast cancer. "Mostly, my neighbors are college-age or just out of school and are really into it. It's not that loud. There's the occasional indie rock band. You'll see the younger people grooving and the older ones clamping their ears."
Because space limits capacity to 60 people, the salons have to be semiprivate. Invitations go out to those on Clearfield's mailing list - mostly artists, their friends, and a core group of supporters who have been attending for years. To minimize wear on her apartment - decorated with white Christmas-tree lights and exotic fans - everyone is asked to leave shoes in the hall. Space on the living room floor is first come, first served. Not for the claustrophobic, intolerant or close-minded.
