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09.30.05 Did you go? I did. The New Pornographers (new favorite vocal harmony moment ever captured on record, posted at right) played two nights at bimbo's. I saw them Wednesday night. Maybe, just maybe, my favorite show of the year. The Pornographers do not disappoint. They're big and bold, all full of strong, messy harmonies. And when Neko sees fit to let loose with that voice, you'd feel it all the way in the back of the club. Carl Newman is a bit of a punk, although I think that less than I did before the show. In interviews, he always seems to cast the band as his own — shame on you Carl, because a band that big doesn't come out of one person. And if it did, then his (still wonderful) solo album would be exactly the same thing. The Pornographer's clearly take a stylistic lead from Carl, but the band is undoubtedly a collaboration of multiple massive sonic brains. At times during the show, he would fall out of key, but would still hold the lead in a harmony or in a multi-part vocal maneuver, times when he clearly could have fallen back a little and gotten himself back in step. There was, to a certain degree, some conceit to that. But it was a small moment in the greater scheme, and the show definitely kicked asses with or without taking that into account. # I've been listening to some great new music this week. If you can and you haven't, check out stars, and the new LP out on SubPop from wolf parade. The Wolf Parade stuff is especially up my ally, and the LP was produced by Isaac Brock of Modest Mouse. Sometimes you can hear the influence more than others. Go forth and hear. # 09.22.05 Evan and I nearly missed CocoRosie and Antony and the Johnsons performing last night at the Palace of Fine Arts. Because I lost the tickets. Thankfully for our friendship, Ticketmaster imbued the box office with the ability to verify existing tickets and reprint them. I doubt I would have been forgiven otherwise. The show was beautiful, in moments. Pretentious in others. Silly in others still. CocoRosie felt like a total pretentious fuck-around, but they had a few very, very lovely moments. They've got a really beautiful sound, when they actually engage it (versus mutilating it beyond recognition in some kind of weird Joanna Newsom idol worship) and they're really fun to watch. Antony came out on stage and was really aggressive and mean about a few things (sound related) right away, but then seemed to settle in and get comfortable with the audience, at which point he transformed and was became warm, effusive and engaging. He joked, made up a silly song, talked to the audience. And sang his damn heart out. It reminded me of Jeff Buckley in the way that he crafts the song to his voice; either one of them could sing the phonebook. But there was a strange thing that happened with his band. There were so many strings, and no drums, and the mix on the sound put the acoustic guitar way out in front, so at times, when Antony's voice and/or piano weren't totally dominating and spooking the place up, the band's sounds got kind of...wine and cheese. You know? It didn't happen much, but the two or so times it did, I was really thrown. Another sad thing was that Antony stayed almost completely hidden behind the piano. It was off to the left side of the stage, stool in the back, so for everyone but the left-most side of the theater he was just a big head of hair bouncing over the top of a grand piano. I could tell that there were a lot of moments when he was doing a sort of hand-dance as he sang (when he wasn't playing, that is) and that looked really interesting and probably would have added more to the beautiful strangeness of the performance. But alas, it couldn't really be seen, except once when he stood up with the mic to invite the audience to hum while he sang a particularly airy number. Normally, I wouldn't put this much energy into a show review, but this one was so interesting and my feelings on it were more mixed up than usual. I'm more of a Love-It, Hate-It kinda guy. But this one inspired a lot of thought. If you have the chance to see Antony and his band perform while they're on tour, do it. If you haven't heard his voice before, check out the track posted right now. It's one of the more immediately accessible tracks on the album, and also one of the most blithely emotive moments on the album. # 09.15.05 Last weekend proved to be just the thing I needed to lift my spirits. Eventful and spontaneous, all full of deepening connections as I plant my new roots and begin to resettle, here in the new place. What was good for the soul however, wasn't as good for the body. I'm falling once again to a recurring, now 4-week long headcold. The up-and-down weather isn't helping much, but neither is the up-and-down beer glass. I paid for last weekend with my voice, and I'm left with a thick, gravely croak. So I designate this week, as best as I can against pre-existing plans, Rest And Recovery Week. All in anticipation of my New York Adventure Weekend that's coming up this Friday. Tyler, Thomas and Mark are my fearless hosts for a brief but inspired raid on the city of New York proper. Hold on to your checkbooks and protect your young. The apartment itself is pretty much put together. I have a few random decorative things to hang on the walls, but I'm resistant because I'd like to enjoy the blank white walls just a little bit longer. Blank white walls against a fully furnished apartment are the new car smell of housing. But it's livable and lived in, and while I'm no decorator, I've been able to put some touches into the place that instill it with an atmosphere and a distinct vibe that I really enjoy. I'll post a few photos as soon as I get a chance to take them. So that you know I'm not lying. # 09.09.05 It's 11:30, maybe later. I just got home from Los Angeles. The job I was checking today went south, totally bottomed out, and I spent the day chasing to catch up. I had to change flights, then change airports, then run to make my gate, not ten minutes before takeoff, the last flight out of LA for the night. I'm not telling you this because I want pity. I enjoy these moments of unpredictability. I like the fact that, in some strange way, my job has little moments of adventure. (Enjoy it in the same way you might enjoy pressing into an old, yellow bruise.) But as I was landing back in San Francisco, staring out the window half asleep, my iPod mixing with jet sounds, travel sounds, I realized that when I landed I would already be home. As close to home as I was going to get. That I was already home, more or less, because I was with myself. That there was no one to call, no one to tell, in my exasperated, raspy voice, "Oh man, what a fucking day! I'm here now and I'm on my way home." Instead, I would get off the plane alone, walk through the terminal alone, get in a cab alone. Come home alone. Go to bed, alone. And then Steven called. While I was in the cab, coming home. To see if I had made it back. To say hello, to talk about his day, about my day. And we talked, about little things, life things, gossipy things. And I got home and I said goodbye, and I walked in the front door. And I was home, a little more alone, and a little less alone, than when I walked out the door this morning. # 09.06.05 You really want me to say something more about what's going on with me than that last post, don't you? I'll indulge you, but just for a moment. I'm in my new apartment and I'm really liking it a lot. I've got it almost all put together and unpacked and I'm at the point (this as of about 45 minutes ago) of needing to collect a handful of miscellaneous things to make the place complete. It's small (really small) but I've adopted the euphemism "cozy" and I feel better about it already. And I love my new neighborhood. And I love being so close to so many of my friends. Other things I don't love so much, but I'd like to avoid the negative right now. # I'm suddenly surrounded by people of the same sign as me. Which is strange, because I usually find my fellow Aries to be a split between inspiring, kind-hearted people or callow, hateful cynics. But this crop seems to be strongly the former; maybe those Zodiac folks worked all the kinks out of our sign finally. # « August 2005 | archive index | October 2005 » built with movabletype |
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