depressed white kids with bed head hair cuts and dark clothes.
the music gives me douche chills. you know, the chill that tingles in different parts of your body, sometimes the back of the neck or on the back of my arm behind the bicep.. (we called it a douche chill when I was a kid. douche, it was a funny word. still is.)
And this was the music that I played when I wanted to be left alone. it's like a narcotic...with it's numbing hum.
Like a dream you'd have after taking Nyquil.
the vocals a high falsetto that repeats in a language that in the dream you think you understand.
We sat with the other 1000 or so similarly depressed people in the large historic theatre in the neglected city of Oakland.
I say neglected because that city's center is only 5 miles from San Francisco and on a Saturday night, trying to get out, trying to find an on-ramp to any freeway, there are empty streets, dark, poorly lit streets, rundown building, block after block. Lots of homeless, or those resembling homeless, with not alot on their backs.
At the gas station we found, there was a line of people outside that bulletproof box that the person who works there sits.
Three different car stereos providing a soundtrack of deep bass thumping and angry rap.
We'd skipped dinner rushing to get to the show. The Bay Bridge closed two onramps in SF and we sat in traffic trying to get out of the city.
Oakland is tough to get to and tough to get out of. And I mean just driving, but I do believe this applies for the more poetic sense of the phrase.
We wanted to provide to the city's economic interests, but didn't see an open business besides a Taco Bell and a bar that looked actually o.k., but we weren't drinking.
why are the onramps to the freeway to get out of Oakland so hard to find?
Prince Tortoise and the Tea Leaf Green Airto - First week of June 2004
This past week I had the opportunity to see four different shows. They varied from the funky Prince to the eclectic Tortoise to the jammy Tea Leaf Green and finally to the overwhelming Brazilian jazz of Airto Moreira and his Jam Band. Prince couldn't do wrong with a catalog of songs that anyone with ears can recognize are by a talented legendary performer. After what feels like more than a decade of obscurity, he brought back his live show full of highly talented musicians to the mainstream arenas. I'll say that I haven't heard much of his newer music past the name change to a symbol. But that's just me, sorry. The inclusion of Maceo Parker in the live show was a nice touch of respect to the funk pioneers. James Brown, George Clinton, Stevie Wonder... The next night I was Tortoise. A post-rock/experimental band who I'm convinced had an off-night. I'll leave it at that. Saturday evening I wandered into the Great American Music Hall over in the colorfully weird Tenderloin two doors down from the Mitchell Brothers Theater. Ahem. As far as jam bands go, I have a continuing long-distance debate over the validity/quality of many of these jam bands. My stance being, that while it's fun to listen to on a hot day or after a hard day's work, it's more than a little repetitive and mostlikely less than original. Sorry. To jump one day ahead, I'll say that I saw a jam band that would make most of these upstart jam bands sigh. On Sunday at Yoshi's in Oakland, Airto Moreira and his Jam Band effortlessly and with triumphant class wowed all within earshot with the jubilant flavor of Brazilian jazz. Santana to David Bryne to Peter Gabriel to Phish all borrow from this style of some of the happiest foot- tapping music I've had the pleasure to hear. And had I not experienced hearing this, I may not judge as harshly other shows or bands. It's a continuing feeling that there is some really amazing music being played or has been played that hasn't been heard by enough people. The mainstream has obviously not even gotten a taste of some of these pure musical forms outside of the few mainstream musicians lucky enough to emulate these thrilling styles. A few of these musicians are listed above and others I've yet to recognise or hear myself. I'd like say that every musician on that stage was inspiringly great. You'd be doing your mind and ears and well-being a big favor by discovering a CD or two of Airto or musicians he's affiliated with. I know I've experienced something special and it has set the watermark much higher for the bands I have yet to see live.
Rilo Kiley @ Swedish American Hall, SF, CA - Friday, Feb 28th, 2004
The Swedish American Hall is not a club or a bar, like the Cafe Du Nord, the sponsoring establishment/bar below it on Market Street that with the NoisePop folks brought the beauty and music of Rilo Kiley to a wonderfully pleased audience late Friday night. I'm smitten by Jenny Lewis' voice. My nervous self felt that surge of panic when I'd discovered this would be an alcohol-free show as we cautiously took a seat on the metal folding chairs in the banquet hall that could pass for a make-shift church. A little like the Noe Valley Ministry, well actually a lot like the Noe Valley Ministry. The first performance was a very sweet duo, the girl singing sweet songs about birds and happiness and the gentleman strummed his acoustic guitar slowly enough to not mess up his perfectly combed haircut. I was beginning to panic. With beer, I can tolerate an acoustic opening act. I play guitar myself and know that it can be a painful, church-like experience to sit on a metal chair, stone, cold sober listening to one person playing a folk song on an acoustic guitar. After the first act of Nedelle and Thom, we left, getting our hand stamped to return in an hour or so for Rilo Kiley. My apologies to David Dondero and Willy Mason, the other opening acts, who we pretty much missed, but, well, sorry. The Lucky 13, a block away played a nice blend of psychobilly and noise rock for the tattooed crowd. A shot of Jack and a beer. This place was a world away from what we just stepped out of. An hour later or so, we'd returned to the banquet hall. The comfy seats lining the side walls were inviting and available. Either Willy or David was finishing up, sorry, fellas. He was very nervous and stopped occasionally in the middle of songs. He was talented, but not confident. I liked his stuff. Another guy helped out on drums. Nice touch. When Jenny and Blake from Rilo Kiley jumped on stage, the crowd greeted them warmly. It would be just the two of them, no drums or bass. I thought, cool, a special performance. They confidently played a series of delicate songs that smoothly slid around the room with the sweet scent of a peach. Two guitars, one electric, one acoustic and two voices. A small keyboard for Jenny to sing with. By the middle of the show, the place was packed, no longer feeling church-like, much warmer. By the end, I thought to myself, this is why I go to see bands play. Talent given a forum can create thrilling event.
(c)2004 Kev Mayersky
Death Cab for Cutie - Fillmore - December 2003
What wrong can Ben Gibbard and Chris Walla do? None. Consistent quality flows from both either in Death Cab releases or side-projects. Gibbard's noted with Postal Service, but also with drumming on Kind Of Like Spitting's Bridges Worth Burning and the beautiful Home collection split CD with Andrew Kenny of American Analog Set. And Walla with, he's got his hands all over the stellar Barsuk releases and I'm sure soon any indie rocker looking to namedrop John Vanderslice's name into a conversation. Velvet Teen, Death Cab, The Long Winters, The Stratford 4, Nada Surf, and on Postal Service. I was lucky enough to see Death Cab at Slim's earlier in the year before Transatlanticism was released. A show that I also danced with glee. Happy times. Hmmm. So, Nada Surf opened up for DCFC. A guy behind me made the obligitory, "these guys are popular" comment. I think it's jealousy that he himself hadn't had a hit song yet. But I bought the new Nada Surf after hearing a few songs from the barsuk.com web site. They write and play accessible pop rock songs. Not really indie rock, but a decent opening band. I'm easy on these bands because although they may not be forging a new music path, they're a hell of alot better than most crap and give me hope that my own music may one day be good enough for the Fillmore. So, DCFC came on and played to a full house. That Fillmore auditorium was packed. Mimi went to the show with me and she's not normally real good with big crowds of tall, sweaty, drunk people, well, except me, and this show had alot of couples and groups of apparently single women. So, the dumb guy factor was low. The band was tight and well-rehearsed, this being late in the tour. I felt that Ben's voice may have been a bit strained. But they're not really a yelling band anyway. I most looked forward to hearing "The New Year" and the track, "Transatlanticism". The line, "I need you so much closer..." getting stuck in my head and in Mimi's head too, she told me outside the show. That one's second in the 'get stuck' in my head lines to, "I loved you Guenivere, I loved you Guenivere, I loved you" from We Laugh Indoors. My first impression on the drumming for the song, Transatlanticism was that the simple metronome bang didn't help the song, but it's hypnotic in it's repetition. Live, he played it the same way, when I thought the new drummer would be pounding away, Dave Grohl-style, but again, that's not this band, and wouldn't want it to be. "Styrofoam Plates", a really sad song, was played like a college rock radio hit, was a little weird to see couples holding each other's hips together to a song about an absent drunken father who abandoned his kids prior to a Thanksgiving dinner where they eat at a soup kitchen off styrofoam plates. I hope Death Cab For Cutie can always be that band that I know about and continue to make records and tour for like- minded guys like me. I'll namedrop here... I met John Vanderslice at the back of the auditorium talking to some people. It was late in the show and late in my beer consumption, so I kept it short before embarrassing myself. Keep up the good work, John. When's the new Spoon album coming out? Can you check with Britt? Yea, I'm in the know. Uh huh. This show was the third time I'd seen DCFC and was really, really well-played, but I don't know if it can compare to the way I was blown away at the Noise Pop 2002 show at Bimbo's with The Dismemberment Plan. That one. I felt like I was floating during the show. This one I danced. Maybe it's me and seeing a show at Bimbo's over seeing a show at the Fillmore, but at Bimbo's the audience is part of the show because the place is so cozy and warm. Although, I don't know if I'm the only one who wonders if they purposely pipe in the greasy french fry smell straight into the crowd to drum up more snack food sales. Venue owners, please don't do this. If I want to eat, I eat. But when I go to a show, I don't mind if I go home smelling like gin or beer, but not chili fries. Sorry for the tangent, DCFC are the top of the list in indie rock. Plain and simple, sweet and wonderful. Thank you gentlemen.
(c)2003 Kev Mayersky
Spiritualized/Soledad Brothers - November 2003 Bimbo's, San Francisco
I listened to Spiritualized's Laser Guided Melodies album in college when I studied in London in 1991. Spiritualized were weird and spacey. I liked it, because I couldn't pin it down to anything I'd heard before. I remember buying The Orb's Adventures Beyond the Ultraworld that semester too. All of the weird trippy atmospheric dance music added to the party morphed into what the world calls 'raves'. We all went to a party called the Whirly-gig in London one weekend night. It was inside an old building that could pass for city hall. I remember looking at this old distinguished structure being filled with late high school/college kids carrying six packs of beer in backpacks into the place. We didn't know what to expect, but inside a party in this big auditorium raged. That's where I'd first heard the Orb and any of this ambient spaced-out rave music. It wasn't house with the just continuous thump, thump, thump that deafens most raves today. It was cool and comforting. They unravelled a huge parachute and stretched it across the floor. Lots of colorful lights beamed down at the chute like a big moving psychedelic movie screen. People on the edges would raise it high up and kids run under it covering them. Details of the full evening are cloudy, but I hadn't seen anything like this scene in the little town I grew up in, but knew I was looking forward to more of the weirdness. And here over ten years later, I'm seeing this weirdness live. But I have to admit, it's not nearly as surprising as it first was in college. Spiritualized are experimental and different, but they're a rock band. And a loud rock band at that. They were loud in that little place. I felt like there I was also, really, in the know, seeing them, but walking out of there, I wasn't as moved as I'd hoped. The Soledad Brothers opened up. Garage rock blues. Hmmm. I'm a little tired of this style. It's good if you're playing pool and drinking beer, but that's about it. Sorry. I bought their CD to give them a chance, but it's lackluster as well.
(c)2003 Kev Mayersky
Clem Snide/The Long Winters 07/22/03 @ Cafe Du Nord, San Francisco, CA The Cafe Du Nord is the kind of place that I really want to like. But trying feels fake. But maybe I send off a weird old guy vibe or something like I don't dress cool enough or because I don't have any piercings in my face. Anyway, The Long Winters hopped on-stage a little after 9:30 yesterday night, a Tuesday. Now working on beer number three, I was really ready to see and hear this band live. From all of the listens to the clips from the Barsuk records web site, I felt like I knew half of the songs they played. But then again, the Long Winters songs feel like songs that you already like. A catchy, happy sing-along feel. I'd thought the keyboard player/background singer's voice was really familiar and it was the guy who sang in Harvey Danger. Man, that band got bashed as a hack band, but really I mean why make a stink about a band that writes a catchy song, gets on MTV and then fades away as a one-off? It's more than I've done. Sean Nelson is his name, adds a real nice high register to the harmonies. Even higher pitch than the already high pitch of the singer for the Long Winters, John Roderick. So, they won me over one song at a time.When Clem Snide took the stage, I anticipated greatness. I've been already enamored by this band for the past two years, selling their greatness to others around me who asked the simple question of 'so, what are you listening to these days?'. Their latest album, "The Soft Spot" is a collection of mostly mellow, down beat love songs. Most containing the word, 'love' in every song. Nice stuff, but not the bouncy, fun of their previous releases. The fun of "I Love the Unknown"...I was searching for. They began mellow enough with tracks from the newest album. "Every Moment", and others... I've observed that for the most part, San Francisco crowds don't really move much when watching concerts. Not even a little, most people just sort of stare at the band. I dance around when the moment is right. So, Clem Snide's mellow start seemed appropriate enough. I thoroughly enjoyed the happy bounce that this band exudes. There's a familiarity to the sound that brings this band near the top of my favorite list. Other stand-outs of the evening included, apparently a few new songs, one regarding Lucille Ball which poetically trailed her troubled life and the "Your Not As Weird As You Thought You Were" song, which I really sang along with. Put that one on a record, eh? Was new to me... After shouting for more, and half the audience filing out around quarter to one, they finally played "I Love the Unknown". No "Messiah Complex". And no, "Curse of Great Beauty". That made me sad. It made for a fine Tuesday evening in my book. The Cafe Du Nord is that much better for me now. I do like it, but I'm not sure I'm as welcome as I want to be there though. It's only based on my internal, "your not cool enough to be here" meter. But maybe it's just I'm not in my normal element there.
by Kev Mayersky (c)2003
American Analog Set/Earilmart/Ester Drang on a Friday night at Bimbo's in November 2003 Slow drone indie rock fueled the evening. Not a high-energy show, but more about setting a mood and holding that. It's not elation. And it's not Mercury Rev kind of after the party is over, but I still can't fall asleep sound. I tend to sway toward this type of white guy slow indie rock. Like Yo La Tengo and Grandaddy had a baby. And strangely, it appears I'm the only one who doesn't think Grandaddy's last one, Sumday is all that. Even Yo La Tengo's last Summer Sun is a yawner. It's the kind of music you hear while flipping through the vinyl section at an independent record store, like Princeton Record Exchange. I like the AmAnSet today, we'll see tomorrow. I purchased the Ester Drang CD Infinite Keys and Earlimart's Everyone Down Here, too that night. Both worthy albums from young bands. All three of the bands that evening were surprisingly similar. I started out with the $5 bottled beer but quickly started to go broke. Thankfully, there's a real dive bar across the street that has much more reasonably priced drinks for between band drinking.
Broadcast on a Wednesday night at Bimbo's at 9 pm. I feel old saying that it's difficult to go to a show on a weeknight, but the day job that pays me requires I work a full day after said show. I was clued into Broadcast by a fellow music fan and fellow juror during a long tiring bout of jury duty. I'll describe Broadcast as a minimalist jangly indie rock band who play analog techno. A weeknight with Rogue brews and burgers before the show with Matt Venusian. And the $5 bottles of Sierra. Man, it hardly makes you want to tip. Bimbo's is a place that feels swanky with the red velvet and the guy in the bathroom who'll hand you a paper towel after washing your hands. I feel really bad for that guy. What a lousy job to have to sit in the stinky bathroom all night. And on a rock show night, like that one, more than half the people there are struggling college kids who don't tip and don't wash their hands anyway. Anyway, Bimbos is a great place to see a show because of the location and the sound and the room, but I always feel ripped off at the bar and always feel bad for the African American guy sitting in the bathroom handing out towels. I bet he feels even more ripped off than I do.
