Wednesday
"I think I'll have a grappa. That sounds very nutritious... Some of us need their vitamin alchohol. Vitamin A, if you will." -Brian, 11/06/2007
Tonight, I may see the Goddamn Shame (not my
favorite band name, but there you have it) for the first time. I'm still curious to see if
fate will again arrange matters so that I miss their set, as it has every single time in the
past. Including the time I organized a show they played in the Scoreland Crystal Ballroom. I
believe I was tending to some urgent matter during their set, and missed the whole thing. It's
like they're the Murph of the music scene, except I actually believe the Shame exist. I don't
believe in Murph, obviously.
But tonight's show at the walking-distance (oh so nice walking distance) Empty Bottle, along with next week's
sold-out-before-I-bought-tickets Mountain Goats show at same, have got me thinking about all
the concerts I've been to recently, and there have been a lot. All at the Metro, to my frustration. It's not that the Metro is
one of the few venues out of walking distance -the bike ride's not a bad one, after all- but
it grows more abhorrent to me with every show I attend there. Their semi-absurd rules against
dancing has by-and-large blossomed into a full-on attitude against dancing. I've been told off
there for dancing in place near the stage in the past, and it seems to have gotten worse. Even
for eminently danceable bands, the concertgoers there are locked in place, with exceptions
for the exceptionally drunk. Nigh-intolerable. People were shooting me dirty looks for
headbanging, headbanging stationarily in what space was available around me. What is
wrong with these kids?
The best crowd in these regards was the one to see Atmosphere. Truly an all-ages show (there was a group of
eleven-year-olds, shepherded by chaperones, right up near the stage), the crowd was
enthusiastic and close-packed. Hands were in the air at the appropriate times, and a good time
was had by all, but in a more reserved way than one might see at the Double Door or the House
of Blues. A fantastic show, all told, though. Atmosphere had been at the top of my to-see list
for a while at this point, and I didn't entire know what to expect. Slug's showmanship wasn't
everything I'd dreamed it could be, but he put on a good set, mixing old and new hits, making
slick transitions, and working the crowd tolerably well. He was growing his hair out and he
had a backup band, which was a little odd, but he worked it out.
What really impressed me was the opening acts, however. As I hadn't heard of any of them
before, I wasn't expecting too much, but they just got better and better. Grayskul was energetic and catchy, if a bit disorganized. Plus
their DJ looked like he was about fourteen, which I found kind of hilarious. Luckyiam, of Living
Legends, was up next and had a short, fun set that had about as much crowd-working as it
did rapping, and I say that as a credit, as the two wove seamlessly together for a fantastic
set. The whole show, by and large, wove seamlessly together, and I was reminded of the best
big difference between rap shows and rock shows: set changes. How long does it take for the
next artist to walk onstage? That's how long the set change is. Beautiful. The best was yet to
come, however, in the form of Mac Lethal, who was funny, talented, and possessed of
a contagious enthusiasm that pumped an already psyched crowd even higher. I might download
some free mp3s of the other openers, but of Mac Lethal, I want the album. I want to
see him in concert again. That's a testimonial right there.
In other news, when the Ericonomicon was in
town, we went to Ikea, and I bought a tea egg and a cake pan. And I love my tea egg. Love it.
My supply of loose tea will be gone in a fortnight.
The next concert did not go as well, sadly. A lesson was learned, however, and that lesson
was "For certain bands, 'all ages' actually means 'teen-ages'." Also, I learned the importance
of regular bicycle maintainance, as my bike key snapped off in the lock, making me late. But
perhaps I should back up a bit. When I went to the Atmosphere show, I took the opportunity to
buy tickets to the Hold Steady on Halloween, and the Spill Canvas a few days earlier. I bought
one ticket to the Hold Steady, since I honestly can't imagine girls liking it (they do, but).
I bought two tickets to the Spill Canvas, because, you know, girls love Nick Thomas's crooning
and melodramatic lyrics. Well, fifteen-year-old girls, anyway. But then I kinda forgot how
soon the concert was, and found myself on the night of the show, reminded by my faithful gCal of its existence, without having even
given serious thought as to who I might ask. So in rapid-fire succession I called a bunch of
people not likely to be offended by my terrible taste in music until I found someone willing
to truck across town for a free concert. It was Neha.
Now, I did warn her on the phone that the concert would be full of fifteen-year olds, but I
don't think she was ready. Truth be told, I don't think I was, either. You could
smell the adolescence in the air. We eventually found some sanctuary in a
corner of the crowd, surrounded by a couple very drunk lesbians and some college-age guys who,
like me, appeared to just now be figuring out that maybe they shouldn't be seen listening to
this music in public anymore. From this vantage point, I was able to discerne the following:
Treaty of
Paris, the opening band, was catchy, well-instrumented teenage drivel that sounded just
like every other teenage drivel band worth listening to. That is, if you like that stuff, they
were pretty good, but they didn't stand out. They were from Chicago, and it was their debut
album release show, I seem to recall. PlayRadioPlay, the next band, was, uh, how you say, less
good. In terms of showmanship, instrumentation, and tolerability of drivel. They were from
Fort Worth, Neha's hometown. The second headliner, Meg and Dia, a two-girl-fronted light rock group, was
similarly unmemorable, except that one of the girls had a ridiculously high voice. Nice
vocals, but nothing to make my heart pound. Girls very tiny. *shrug* We saw them at Clark's
after the show. I don't even know where they were from. Somewhere in Utah?
The Spill
Canvas, however, was the act I was there to see. Unnerved by all the young'uns, It took me
a while to get into it, but it was nonetheless enjoyable. I mean, emotionally charged songs I
know by heart performed live will always affect me, even if I'm surrounded by alien beings and
the performance isn't all that great. Sadly, the performance wasn't all that great. Talented
musicians though they were, I had the disadvantage of having seen them play before and better,
and knew this wasn't their best work. Tired and disorganized, the band seemed to rely on the
crowd to provide most of the energy for the show. Fortunately, the crowd had a lot of energy
to give. There was an encore. Then Neha and I went to Clark's, and she made me promise not to
bring her to another concert like that ever again. I'm not sure I want to, either, but, you
know, they're from my hometown, gotta show support.
I could've instead gone to J+J+J at the Beat Kitchen (impossible to get to by public
transit, but not bad by bike) that same night. Oh, well.
The Hold
Steady show was the one I'd really been looking forward to, however. Perhaps not as long
as Atmosphere, but twice as hard. Twice as hard, but still with some amount of apprehension;
those out there who've listened to some of their live recordings may understand why. I was
looking forward to it so hard I didn't even look at who else was playing with them. I was not
looking forward to it enough to not get dressed up as Luigi and sit out by the gate handing
out candy and raisins beforehand. Brian disapproved. "You're going to get our house egged,
handing out raisins," he declared. I was proved once more correct, since kids love raisins.
About a third of the candy got taken, and two-thirds of the raisins. Because kids love
raisins.
After a change and a shower, since I'd decided not to wear the costume to the concert, I
head back down to my bike, only to discover that in the time since handing out candy, someone
had stolen my bike seat. Someone had come along with an allen key, or possibly even a wrench,
and stolen my bicycle seat. Twice in a year. I'm glad I didn't spring for a really nice one.
When I replace it, I'm taking Lorange's advice and getting a small cable for the seat. Wish I'd listened
when she first told me a month ago; I'd still have a seat now. So it goes. It looks like they
went all up and down the block, because two bikes and tricycle locked up in front of the Erie
House are also missing seats. Yes, a tricycle. A tiny child's tricycle, and some one stole the
seat. Who does that?
So that slowed me up a bit, with the result that I got there after the opener, Federale,
had finished. Imagine my surprise to learn that Art Brut was the second headliner. Seemed a bit of a mismatch, yes?
I hadn't been impressed with the recorded Art Brut tracks I'd heard, so I was predicting
forty-five minutes of hipster-flavoured boredom before the Hold Steady. I settled in and began
to work my way forward in the crowd.
And who should I run into but Emily, landslide winner of the most-tolerable hipster award,
but hipster nonetheless, and a friend of hers who attends IIC. They were of course there to
see Art Brut, and had the same kind of feelings toward the Hold Steady as I did toward their
band of choice. We passed the time talking until the set began, each trying to convert the
other, but finally the Brits took the stage. And their set was awesome. As talented musicians
and truly exceptional showmen, they were cheesy and hipstry and European, and still managed to
make me rock out. I think I fell in love with the bass player, too. I decided to give their
recorded stuff a second chance, but I still can't stand those vocals. But who needs vocals
when you've got microphone twirls every five seconds, really?
So, finally, the Hold Steady, the only one of my three favorite bands that actually tours.
My worst fears were not, thankfully, realized. Craig Finn apparently likes to sing live
significantly differently than on studio recordings, and though it wasn't so far off as to be
terribly jarring, it wasn't really creative and energetic enough to make the differences
interesting and enjoyable in themselves. It was mostly just annoying. The band seemed tired
and distracted, as well, but that did not stop them from rocking out significantly. With all the criticisms mentioned above, this could easily have been a mediocre concert, but the sheer energy of the music and Mr. Finn's unabated earnestness pulled it up solidly into the black. A very solidly ordered set, with a few enthusiastically received new songs, was the real backbone of the performance, keeping the energy and anticipation of the crowd high. Not as high as I'd like, certainly, in part because of the Metro's dance-dampening atmosphere, but I was satisfied by the end. Next time, maybe I can catch them towards the start of a tour, and they'll be a lot more pumped up. For now, I'll just wait for the new album.
By this time, I imagine you're getting as tired of reading as I am of writing, so let's call it a day, yes? I think I've got my thousand words.
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