God bless The Shins. They're such a cute band. They're a bunch of thirty somethings that look like guys you might know from around the way that happen to be in a really cool pop band. I mean, James Mercer, their frontman, had his shirt tucked in during the show. I think that says it all. The actual show was interesting. It started slow but steadily gained momentum until it settled into the comfortable groove we've come to expect from these guys. We showed up right as they were starting and although we had great seats I was a little worried that I wasn't going to have that great of a time. The sound was a little lacking and I was kinda rushed into the whole thing. They started with Sleeping Lessons which was certainly fitting but it's a rocker and they aren't really the type of band that "fucking brings it". It might have been as simple as me not being warmed up (I've grown to respect the importance of an opening band regardless of whether they are good or not, half the fun is the anticipation). I finally got into about four songs in and they slowed it down with A Comet Appears. That was actually the best song of the set. It got quiet enough to highlight the strengths of the band, James Mercer's fragile sensibilty and his deft intimate lyrics. They kept that momentum and played their staples Kissing the Liplessand New Slang. Everyone was swept away into the land of la-la's and oo-oo's. Just a PG bubblegum good time. You do have to think that The Shins are the type of band that will be well known to those of us from this generation but maybe lost in the shuffle in the years to come. You know how when someone who is like 8 years older than you tells you about a band from the 80's that was really influential on REM and you have no idea what they're talking about...that's us in 7 years. But not to worry, it's now and The Shins are at the height of their run.
At the moment these are the tunes Hansel and I are listening to in heavy rotation. Go here http://www.sendspace.com/file/tweucd to download them. More volumes to come...
So yeah, I was in the front row, hands on the stage, front row. It's hard for me to out into words what it was like there. Those of you who were there know what the fuck I'm talking about. And yes, that fuck was completely neccesary because those guys will rock your fucking balls off. Now I'm sure there are bands that rock as much as they do, The Strokes come to mind, but I don't think you could say anyone outdoes them. Now don't get worked up, I'm not saying they're better than Led Zeppelin or AC/DC, thats not what I'm talking about. I'm just saying of all the shows I go to now, these guys do it better than anyone else. They just work you into a frenzy and make everyone in the place rowdy as hell. Their show at the Tabernacle a few months ago was more condusive to their style because it was general admission and everyone in there was all sweaty and fired up, but this one was pretty amazing too. Aside from the 41 year old douche behind me asking me where my seats were and telling me he didn't pay "alot" of money to have some coon (he didnt really get racial, I just wanted to villianize him more) dancing in front of him blocking the stage, the show was perfect. The bassist and I even had a special moment. During McFearless we made eye contact and he smiled at me like, "yeah yeah I'm killing this shit". Now I'm aware that mentioning this is uncool and slightly homo-erotic, but hey, man crushes and broners happen, deal with it. There were almost too high many high points to mention any, but I remember Trani being kick ass and the entire encore was pretty hot. They started with Knocked Up and went straight into Charmer and had everyone screaming "Ahhhh, she's such a charmer, ohhh noo-oo" at the top of their lungs. They closed with So Night, So Long and when they were done yours truly got a drumstick from Nathan Followill himself. After the show we were all too jacked up to go home and we went next door to Bazaar to get a drink and who walks in but the Kings. Obviously I didn't talk to them, I mean what would I say? I think I learned my lesson about talking to rock stars from Carina Round. But I could have, could have, if I had wanted to. I didn't talk to them, but I did the next best thing: I got stinking drunk rock star style. I would tell you more but thats about when showed up. Now I know that looks like the grim reaper but its actually his nephew Ralph. He's waiting for his uncle to retire to take his job but for now instead of killing you he just makes you blackout, have a $100 bar tab and wake up in your bed the next day feeling like dogshit. Atleast I'm still alive, and from what I remember, I had a blast.
Was Jenny Lewis as sexy as I had hoped, definitely. Was the show what I expected, not quite. It wasn't high energy, she wasn't jumping all around the stage. She danced to herself and looked cute. It was controlled and right on. The band is older now...Jenny is 30 so I guess I should have seen it coming. Especially after the release of their most recent cd Under The Blacklight. It is noticeably different from their previous two The Execution of All Things and More Adventurous; softer, more feminine. Maybe even closer to light rock. Still catchy as hell but the tone is different. Gone is the insecurity and guilt that was all over Execution in songs like "The Good That Won't Come Out" and "A Better Son/Daughter"; gone is the anger from More Adventurous on "Does He Love You" and "Portions For Foxes". Those emotions have been replaced by the self assuredness on "Silver Lining" where Jenny sings,
and I was your silver lining as the story goes I was your silver lining but now I'm gold
hooray hooray I'm your silver lining hooray hooray but now I'm gold
She sounds like she has finally found herself and is, pardon the term, "comfortable in her own skin". You can especially hear this on "Breaking Up", the groups' disco track. Jenny sings about a break-up with an ex and instead of brooding she's gay and breezy about it. When they played that song at the show it got the same response a "Like A Prayer" gets...when girls hear that song they all look at each other and make big eyes that say "oh my god, oh my god" and dance in a circle pretending that for those 4 minutes, guys don't exist. It's not that I can't reach down and find my inner gay man, I can get down with the best of them, I just felt like this time around the party wasn't catered to me. I was happy to be there nonetheless. I do miss the old Jenny, the one who would drop F-bombs all over the place, but I dig this one too. She's a little mellower and perhaps the most attractive thing about her is that she doesn't seem to give a shit about me, she's who she is. And when I say she doesn't give a shit, that isn't laced with any defensiveness, she's just unconcerned with external judgement. Perhaps that's what growing up is, hopefully when I grow up I can do it gracefully as she has.
So I've noticed how the types of concerts I go to have evolved. My first rock concert ever was Dave Matthews at Lakewood in 1997. I spent about $250 to get 5th row seats and despite the hundreds of concerts I've been to since then that one still remains one of my favorites. It was an awesome experience that I tried to replicate by going to about 15 more Dave shows over the next three years. Some of them were pretty great but none rivalled that first show. Through that I learned it's pointless to try to relive the past because it's never going to be the same again, you can only go forward in life. So that's what I tried to do...I saw Pearl Jam and U2 at massive amphitheaters. No Doubt and Oasis at Music Midtown (I also admit to loving Collective Soul at the time and seeing them there which is undeniably questionable [Dosage had just come out and you liked it too] but I could just chalk it up with the other things I thought were good ideas in high school like wearing jean shorts). All of these shows were at big venues at a time in whichever groups career when they were as much an act as a band. This is quite distinct from the types of shows I see now. There is the occasional mid range band at a venue like the Tabernacle or the Fox but more and more it's smaller bands at smaller clubs that cost like 10 bucks to see where the music is the focus. Don't get me wrong, style and charisma (theatricality) are extremely important when you go to see a show but these smaller shows seem more authentic, more pure. Andrew Bird definitely gave off that feel. The show was very intimate and it made me think of they way music was like before it was so infinitely accessible through modern technology. Before television and cds and ipods. When the only way for you to hear music was to play it or have someone you knew share what they could do with you. That's what I felt he was doing, sharing with me. He played the glockenspiel, the violin, the guitar (which he actually kind of sucked at) and had a bad ass whistle. He had differing degrees of technical proficiency at each instrument and it was obvious but it was also earnest and therefore satisfying in it's own way. When he finally decided to play Scythian Empire, which is one of the best songs of 2007, he failed miserably. If you're not familiar with his style he plays pretty much all the instruments/parts during his songs. He'll play one melody and loop it and frantically pick up another instrument and play something else and loop it over top of the previous one and so on and so on. He just couldn't get the song right and kept messing up the loops and what I thought was going to be the most memorable part of the show was, but not for the reasons I thought. Strangely, his inability to play the song correctly didn't ruin the experience. It simply reminded me that I was watching another human being trying to make something beautiful. It added a childish simplicity to it. Now I'm not saying I want every show I go to to be somewhat amateurish because I love seeing the tightness of The Strokes or the theatricality of U2 but everyone once in awhile it's good to remember that these people, these rock stars, are just like us.
The weird thing is that I've seen quite a few shows in between Carina and Bjork, I just haven't felt particularly compelled to write about them. I saw Midlake, who had some awesome moments (Roscoe), and The National, who I love, but for some reason wasn't particularly moved. I was semi-bored. I guess it has something to do with the people you go to shows with because if they aren't into it it can take away from the experience. Bjork fans definitely left nothing to be desired...they were dressed up in drag (who knew Bjork had such a big gay following) and generally amped up about the show. I'm not sure if she's ever come to Atlanta before so I guess the rarity of the occasion had everyone hyped. The costume design and light show/theatrics were top notch and I would expect as much from Bjork because she's so weird. I mean, she's from Iceland. And anyone who knows anything about Bjork knows to expect the unexpected.
What made the concert so great wasn't just the show she put on, but rather the way she got my wheels turning. Isn't that what great art is about? Producing a canvas for the viewer to project onto? My seminal moment came when Bjork was singing 5 Years to a guy in the front row. She kept screaming, "You can't handle Love, boy. I'm so sick of cowards. They say they want and can't handle Love." It was like she was singing the song to whoever she wrote it about and it was so intense it made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. That got me thinking about love. The western world's favorite topic. Ever since we were born we've been bombarded with thoughts about love. John Lennon told us "All you need is love". If thats true, how do you get it? It seems like it should be intuitive and without need of any explanation, but if thats the case, why are so many of us without the amount/type we want? I think its like the magic eye, some people see the picture right away, their eyes naturally relax and the 3D image appears before their eyes. While some of us don't really understand the concept and any explanation of what we are supposed to see only adds to the frustration and confusion. And is that true anyways? Is love all you need? After years of listening to love songs and watching romantic comdies we develop a thirst for love that similar to greed(or any addiction) is not satiated by getting it. You want and want and want but you have no idea exactly what is it you want. You think you know because of the way love is represented in popular culture but what does that have to with reality? Don't get me wrong, every once in awhile someone gets it right. Knocked Up, Annie Hall, Brokeback Mountain, and The New World are all realistic portrayals of people trying to make sense of the feelings we call love. I mean, don't you think it's hard to recognize the real deal when it happens? Its like how they say when you smoke weed you don't get high the first few times. That just isn't true. You get high, it just takes you about five times to realize what getting high is and enjoy it. But since you don't know what the fuck you're doing you smoke the entire blunt by yourself when all you needed was three hits and you've spoiled something that should have been easy and you're so high you can't talk. So now after the high school awkwardness and college drama you have love. All your problems are solved right? If it were only that simple. No one told you it was a living thing you had to nurture. All you know is the chase. You're clueless about how to keep it afloat. So you get lazy, and you take what you have for granted, you're distracted by tight packages and you think, "I wonder what that would be like?" Now all of a sudden you have Bjork yelling, "You can't handle love you coward!" in your face and you're thinking how the fuck did I get here? You finally realize how profound the not so well known Dave Matthews song "Pig" is. He sings the lines, "Love, Love, Love what more is there?" with such fierce desperation; pleading for someone to end the drama. It's enough to make you want to put your head in the sand. It seems like this is a cycle we're forced to play out over and over again because unfortunately, Robert Palmer was right.
Carina Carina. Quite the songbird. Quite the rockstar. From the second she walked on stage with her bright red dress, her bright red lipstick, and her bright red high heels she commanded everyone's attention. She played almost exclusively from her new album Slow Motion Addict. I had just picked it up a couple weeks earlier to be ready for the show but I was much more familiar with her previous disc The Disconnection. I must say I was pleasantly surprised, I liked the new cd so far but watching her perform with such confidence made me feel like I should have been paying closer attention all along. Her voice was pure and full, singing voice that is, and you could tell she was an experienced performer. When they broke it down and she backed away from the mic to dance she would stomp around while her guitarist would gyrate like a catatonic. There were times when you could tell she was completely lost in the music and she actually whipped out the "oh" face. During one of those moments we made eye contact and I had to look away...I felt like I was watching something I shouldn't have been. And why shouldn't I have been, I mean...standing in the front row taking pictures wasn't creepy at all. The things I do for you guys...
It was strange to see her switch from the sexually energized performer to the cute British girl in between songs. Even with her high pitched squeak she had some bite to her. After a few songs she introduced herself and her band saying, "Thanks to everyone who came to see us, thanks to the people who didn't come to see us but are digging it anyways, and fuck you to the people who are talking through the whole set." My kind of woman.
After the set she said she would be back at the merchandise booth if anyone wanted to say hey...there was my chance! I walked back there to buy a poster for a dollar and get some face time, see what she was all about...here's how it went: Me: Great set, I really enjoyed it. Carina: Thanks a lot, glad you could make it. Me: Could I get you to sign this for me? CR: Sure love, whats your name? Me: Garry. CR: Lovely. Me: So you're from Britain huh? CR: Sure am, but we've been in California a lot lately. Me: I bet you love that, you don't have to carry your um-br-ella-ella-ella-eh-eh-eh around with you anymore huh? CR: ... Me: Well I can't wait for the next time y'all come through Atlanta. CR: Cheers.
So unfortunately seeing the "oh" face onstage was as far as we got. No worries though, Bjork will be here pretty soon...
Earlier today I realized why I like music so much. It started while I was thinking about how disproportionate the levels of pleasure a man and a woman can have are. There is obviously a hardware difference that crisply separates the sexes; men needing refractory periods and having a high proclivity to hyper-sensitivity if continuously engaged; women, on the other hand only seeming to become more engulfed and overwhelmed so that each climax builds upon the previous one and all thereafter become more accessible and more tempestuous. They reach a height I thought I could only experience through connectedness with a woman as we became one entity, she being the gateway to that level.
Now I realize music allows me that pleasure. Its as if my goodies were in my ear. The sound waves massage my auditory canal until they reach my inner ear applying varying degrees of pressure and stimulation to my engorged cochlea. I'm not sure if I've always been so succeptible to music's charms or if my ear has become hyper-sensitive over time. What I do know is that I'm addicted to the sensation.
Whether it's... • Meg White's maraca five seconds into My Doorbell rythmically massaging me into a trance or • Regina Spektor's bass notes at the beginning of Prisoners working in a circular motion around my auditory canal…(left wall, top, right wall, bottom) or • John Lennon and Paul McCartney harmonizing during the verse of Please Please Me which allows for two simultaneous stimulations in different spots ...I have something for every craving.
Now in order to fully enjoy the sensations music has to offer, fidelity is crucial. Always try to get the highest rate possible. There is a fantastic website, www.mp3sparks.com, that allows you to download music at different quality levels. The lowest quality costing about 8 cents a song and the highest around 20 cents. Think the difference between normal TV and HD. Once you experience top notch quality I doubt you’ll settle for less. Nevertheless, if you choose the most bang for your buck route then I would suggest headphones and grass. That will get you in tune with your feelings.
So next time you want a relaxing evening, try curling up on the couch with some candles, some headphones, your favorite cd and your best friend Mary Jane…you won’t be disappointed.
Well well, where do we begin? A friend suggested that I join the Internet phenomena and try my hand at blogging. Music is the only thing that seems to keep me balanced without debilitating side effects, so writing about it could help me in establishing it as my drug of choice. Many have said all you need is Love, but that requires reciprocation and who wants to deal with that shit? The post break-up withdrawal is for the birds. I think I'll stick with music: the infinitely accessible immediate mood modifier. That way, all I need is me and my iPod. I should probably give it a name since we're going to begin this relationship. Suggestions? I like Horacio but that name was already taken by my buddy's new bong so I'll just have to wait for a sign from the Lord...
The first show I plan on reviewing is Carina Round at the Earl this Saturday 9/1/07. She's a little British indie rock chick. I love seeing female rockers, rockers of any type interest me, but women especially. The rock out is what attracts me so much. I'm talking about the break down in a song where a band pushes the tension from a whisper to height of chaos. Its like opening all the doors in your mind that keep out the stuff about death, pain, and suffering and allowing it to blend with the usual melody until it is equal parts harmony and cacophony and flowing through you like a beam of energy that ignites your soul. You feel this life in its entirety. The greats wield that beast until it threatens to break off the leash and then slam the door shut again. The excitement comes from watching just how close to the edge they'll go, some skate right off the side and become legend. The mastery is showing how much you can let out while maintaining control. The best examples off hand are
Sigur Ros - Takk~Glosoli (off the album Takk ) and
The Whigs - Right Hand on My Heart (on their yet to be released follow-up to Give Em All A Big Fat Lip)
The former being a breath-taking atmospheric multi layered jewel and the latter a raw epileptic seizure...both knock you on your ass but in their own unique way, that's why rocking out is so interesting, everybody does it different...
Having said that, I'm looking forward to seeing how Carina does it...plus the face people make while rocking is probably the most similar to the one they make while they're cumming, so if I can't pull her I can settle with seeing her "oh" face. You'll hear back from me either way, but wish me luck...
hope you stick around, this could be fun...in the meantime check out:
2/14- The Kills@ Rickshaw Stop 2/17- St.Vincent @Great American Music Hall 2/20-The Hives@ Fillmore 2/27- The Walkmen@ Independent 3/5- The Raveonettes@ Independent 3/21-Explosions In the Sky@ Great American Music Hall 3/22- Vampire Weekend@ Independent 3/23-Vampire Weekend@ Rickshaw Stop 3/25- Kaki King@ Great American Music Hall
God bless The Shins. They're such a cute band. They're a bunch of thirty somethings that look like guys you might know from around the way that happen to be in a really cool pop band. I mean, James Mercer, their frontman, had his shirt tucked in during the show. I think that says it all.
I finally got into about four songs in and they slowed it down with A Comet Appears. That was actually the best song of the set. It got quiet enough to highlight the strengths of the band, James Mercer's fragile sensibilty and his deft intimate lyrics.
