I have to say that recently, I have been, well, unexcited. Unexcited about writing in this blog (as you can probably tell), unexcited about music (except for the new Wilco which I basically have been playing non-stop because I’m too disinterested to take anything out of it’s case), unexcited about work, life, etc. Something has been missing; a spark, an obsession, also (and this is really starting to get to me a little here at the beach) the sun.
Now though, everything has changed. THE NEW SPOON RECORD HAS BEEN LEAKED. Before you get on my case for listening to it six weeks before it’s release, let me just tell you that a) me NOT listening to it is akin to going off wine for a couple of months (in other words, impossible) and b) I went to the Spoon store and preordered a copy of the CD as well as a T-Shirt and a Hoodie to the tune of eighty bucks. Guilt assuaged.
So I’ve got it now, way early, and here is what I think: No Joke, This is an Awesome Record. And I am not just saying that because of my Britt Daniel obsession and insane love of this band.
On my first listen I had a sort of anticipation that almost put me over the top. I’ve been reading Lolita for the gazillionth time and I can only guess that it’s the same sort of anticipation that Humbert Humbert felt on that first night alone with Lolita… kind of a weird comparison I guess, but I feel, well, alive again.
I am quite exhausted today, this fantastically beautiful Friday the 13th. It is killer out there. But I am tired and for good reason – last night Shins show at SOMA.
Let me get this out of the way right away. I hate SOMA. I hate it with a passion. I don’t care what history this club had in the history of punk rock, whatever happened in the 80’s or 90’s is over, and NOW THIS PLACE SUCKS. I cannot reiterate it enough. SOMA is a disaster waiting to happen. I foresee that in the not so far future, something really bad is going to happen there – a fire or a round of gunfire by a teenage girl (because they only search the boys, not the girls when going in) and people are going to freak out and die. Seriously. The place is a death trap. Plus it smells like an airplane lavatory. It is freeking disgusting and an affront to humans. If Spoon plays here on their tour, well, I will do something very rash. Very very rash. Don’t worry I won’t like, try to smuggle a gun in there. But I will be totally and fully bummed if I ever have to see a show there again (which I will.)
Rant over, and moving on, doors opened to the last night’s show at seven PM and I made Mark go with me at FIVE to secure a place in line. The reason being, there is only one way I could do this thing and that was to secure a place on a little ledge on the side of the venue. The only way to secure said spot was to get there really early. So we got there and Mark went to the new Phil’s BBQ and got some food and we sat there and ate it and talked to two teenage girls and a 32 year old bald music freak named Dave. We also had a little wine and it went by really fast. As for Phil’s, which is sort of a big deal here right now, I can say this: the meat was really good, but the fries and coleslaw sucked. I can’t really complain though, as I ate it sitting on the ground in front of a picture framing place in a strip mall off Sports Arena Boulevard.
Then it was seven o’clock (!) and we were in. I quickly secured my spot on the ledge, telling Mark over and over “you will thank me for this, later.” He wasn’t so thrilled about the getting to the venue so early thing despite the BBQd ribs and wine. However, thank me he did, because we stood up with maybe fifteen other lucky people on the ledge and looked over a crowd of 2300 people crammed into a hot, stagnant space.
The opener, Viva Voce, was pretty cool – Mr. Happy Pummeling My Drums and Hot Chick With a Double Ax. Moments of brilliance, moments of tedium. After a bit I went to the bathroom and security did not want to let me back in the door from which I came. They were like, it’s too crowded. I was like, MY FRIENDS ARE RIGHT THERE. I would have been oh, so pissed if I had waited four hours to get a spot and then had to give it up because I had to pee. But they let me back in eventually. Fuckers.
Finally, the Shins come on. The setlist is no surprise to me, somehow. They open with Sleeping Lessons, which is fantastic, but right then we notice a fucking CHILD right below us. As in, a Ten Year Old. The motherly chick next to me immediately lifts him up to the ledge, which is fine except for, WHO THE FUCK WOULD BRING A TEN YEAR OLD TO SOMA. I’m all for youth and music, but at some point this all-ages thing fails to make sense. It’s like throwing a child into a war zone or a mosh pit. So now I am stuck with this kid who cannot cope standing right in front of me. I felt bad for him. I really did. It was LOUD (which I love.) It was HOT. We were standing on a LEDGE. The poor kid kept rubbing his ears and fanning himself desperately as I got more and more irritated. Finally Mark traded places with me and I began to really enjoy the show.
I saw the Shins a few years ago at a much smaller club called Canes and at that time I was shocked by the size of the crowd. That show was good – not great – but the Shins have really embraced their new-found Zach Braff inspired fame. Their new record is awesome, and the live show last night was really, really great. James Mercer isn’t the most animated dude, and drummer Jesse Sandoval looks to be on many hits of valium, but it doesn’t matter, because they sound fantastic. James Mercer has the most incredible voice and he manages to hit these crazy notes, even in a lame-ass place like SOMA. Pretty remarkable.
My favorite though, my absolute favorite who I am totally in love with at the moment, is Dave Hernandez. Homeboy is a crazy good bassist, and a super fun guitarist, and also he is totally In The Moment and having such a great time that it is hard not to smile when you are watching him. I love watching musicians who really and truly live for that moment of being on stage, and this guy is one of them. Put some blue eyeshadow on him and he is a New York Doll, put a leisure suit on him and he is a Bay City Roller, it doesn’t matter, he belongs on stage, and his energy last night really got the crowd going.
And it was an incredible crowd. From my vantage point looking over all 2300 heads, it was pretty awesome when at the end of the night the entire crowd was just SCREAMING for more. I dug it, while the poor ten year old rubbed his ears in horror.
There is some killer and recent live Shins on youtube right now. This one is especially aweome. And Sunday, I’ve got an encore in L.A.
I never wrote about February 9th’s Sparklehorse show at the Henry Fonda Theater in L.A. It was the last night of one straight month on the road, and when I got home, well, I didn’t really feel like writing about much of anything. If it had been some mind-blowing show a la Eels I might have been forced by experience to write about it, but it wasn’t. It was merely a good show, and especially good for people like me: the People Who Love Mark Linkous.
Mark Linkous IS Sparklehorse. He’s this sort of quiet, mellow, introverted, mysterious, enigmatic, tripped out genius. His records are, at the same time, scratchy and harsh and lush and gorgeous; his songs are discordant lullabies. He’s a studio guy, a loner, a dude who probably won’t be looking for a blow job after a show. (Not that I know of, but what do I know? Maybe he is totally looking for a blow job after the show.)
I saw Sparklehorse in Germany once, and it was a quiet and mellow show, so quiet and mellow that on the night of the L.A. show I almost wanted to drive straight home instead of stopping in L.A. But I couldn’t help myself, so stop I did.
The show was, well, like the one in Germany, with an adoring L.A. audience who all love Mark Linkous. It only lasted an hour, but there were moments of true beauty and I was very happy I went in the end.
The reason I bring this up after all this time is, Bradley has the Boston show up on his blog, and listening to all the songs again is bringing it all back. It is really great stuff – check it out.
My brother Tom, who moved to Berlin last month, now has a myspace music page. I find this pretty humorous, as even though I am an internet junkie I would never have a myspace page. That’s what I have this website for, I guess. I can have a page AND control it. Plus, I can see all the sick and twisted things people search for in my site. And I never have to invite anyone to be my “friend.”
I guess if I were a musician I would have a myspace page and I encourage all you myspacers to head to Tom’s page and sign up to be his “friend.”
In other news, the new Arcade Fire record is out and it is dark and deep and crazy. Kind of sags in the middle a bit, but it’s pretty epic. I have also heard the new Wilco , and as you all know I am sort of a freak about Wilco, so of course these are Happy Times for me. What do I think? It doesn’t have the harsh creativity of Yankee Hotel Foxtrot or the orgasmic reverb of A Ghost is Born, so at first I was, well, unsure. It’s one of those records that grows on you, slowly, and I am starting to really love it. After a while you start thinking about how it will sound live.
So how will it sound live? AWESOME. It’s sounding more and more awesome even as we read.
This morning I got an email from the Lollapalooza people and they were selling tickets for sixty bucks for all three days; even though I can’t really afford it I tried to buy a ticket. So I got in the waiting cue and waited, and waited, and waited. After an hour I gave up. Oh well.
Myspace. Giggle. Tommy must have a lot of time on his hands.
Yesterday I got an early morning call that The Shins have a San Diego date, and that tickets were going on sale today.
It’s true, they are coming to San Diego, but for some reason this is all totally under the radar. I bought tickets on the Shins website YESTERDAY. Just like that, got tickets. No racing heart, no trying to put the stupid code into a box on Ticketmaster and failing to get it right three times as the clock ticks.
They are playing at the hated SOMA, but beggars can’t be choosers, right? Lucky San Francisco gets them for two nights at the Warfield. Tickets go on sale at Ticketmaster tomorrow but you can get them from the Shins website TODAY. Go! Go!
Mark is pretty bummed about the SOMA thing. We both HATE that venue. And they are playing a show in Berlin just a few days after I get home (causing me to go into fits.) Still, I am just happy that I got tickets, because I love, love, love this band.
Arcade Fire at the Greek in Berkeley also goes on sale tomorrow at 10:00. This year is looking pretty stellar so far, show wise. I’m kind of jealous of the Bay Area peeps at the moment, but having tickets to see Arcade Fire in Berlin doesn’t suck, does it?
This is totally cool. Someone morphed the fight scene from Rumble Fish and Arcade Fire’s Intervention. Motorcycle Boy!
Two weeks to go ’till Neon Bible comes out, and I can hardly sit still. ARCADE FIRE, dudes. Remember?
Call this number NOW: 1-866-NEON-BIBLE. My god, could they be any cooler?
NPR has a live Arcade Fire show up – check it out. And this song gives me chills:
As for me. I am seeing Arcade Fire next month – IN BERLIN. I love that all the best bands sing in English. It’s definitely a plus for me. Plus I can ask the bartender for Rot Wein. Whoo hoo!
I think I can count the things I love on one hand. Well, maybe two hands if I really think about it. Once thinking, you’ve got to think about things in terms of; do I really and truly love something, or do I just like it? Because those are two completely different things. It’s a the difference between merely living, and orgasm. Or even, between living and something better than orgasm. If that makes any sense.
Observe, then, a moment that completely and totally slays me – a moment so perfect, so atmospheric, so Totally Killer, that I can’t really imagine anywhere else I would rather be.
Imagine you are me for a minute, if you can. In a big, dark cavern, with a musty, wet smell, full of the most incredible anticipation, surrounded by like-minded people. About to touch, briefly, something you listen to and think about and even dream about for months beforehand. Close your eyes, and imagine you are me, in this dark spot, practically falling over with happiness.
It makes you want a little more, doesn’t it? It’s a bit of a harsh reality at the end there, isn’t it? But thankfully, there is more. THERE IS MORE!
Pretty fucking awesome, I must say. My current obsession with The Shins won’t be over anytime soon.
Well, I’m back, and ready to start boring you all again with my too frequent music posts.
I guess, to be totally honest, I am not sure how I feel about this. Actually I am pretty sure it kind of freaks me out.
Yeah, they rock it, even though the crowd in front doesn’t really seem to give two shits. And now, the Police have announced they’ll tour. The Police! Who hate each other! I always figured that when the Police gave in and forgave each other, I’d have to hang it all up.
I guess I am just being unrealistic, also selfish. I also hated the fact that Prince was on the Super Bowl, but then I loved his show. I think I mostly hated that stupid ad. Even though I hated the ad and the fact that Prince was on the Super Bowl, I still couldn’t wait to watch his performance. Does that mean I will have to go to one of the Police shows? God, I hope not.
There are some things that are sacred and shouldn’t be dredged up after over twenty years. Like, 1984. Though I have to admit that I was totally thrilled, during the freeking Super Bowl Halftime Show of all places, to hear those first seconds of 1999 (which actually came out in, what, 1982?) I think I am mostly horrified to think I will be one of those aging yuppifieds that will go to this show and be all happy and start screaming “sending out an SOS” over and over when they play “Message in a Bottle.” I am terrified of getting old. But I AM old. Also, GETTING OLDER.
I guess it could be worse. I guess I could have been into a band like, I dunno, someone who is currently tearing it up at some random casino in the middle of nowhere. Instead I am horrified that I might spend several hundred dollars to see a band that I used to love but now sort of hate because they stopped hating each other. Also, the thought of Sting practicing his Tantric love shit on a new wave of groupies just makes me want to hurl.
Oh well. At least, to date, The Clash remains sacred.
