Posts tagged Review
Jeff Tweedy at the Orpheum Theater in Phoenix
Dec 28th
Seeing my favorite artists live in a full band setting is obviously one of life’s great thrills – Bruce Springsteen & the E Street Band, Steve Earle & the Dukes, Los Lobos, Wilco… But just as thrilling for me is witnessing more intimate showcases: the solo acoustic show. To be able to sit down and study the architect of the songs you love, as they play for you in a small theater – just the artist, a guitar and a microphone – you’re able to get a deeper understanding of the artist and his work.
I’ve had the privilege to sit and watch my favorites in these intimate-type settings: Springsteen on the Tom Joad and Devils and Dust tours, Steve Earle on several occasions, David Hidalgo & Louis Perez at a small theater in Tucson – and last night, Wilco frontman Jeff Tweedy.
I’ve followed Jeff and his band since Mermaid Avenue bowled me over in 1998. From that point, I’ve devoured everything they’ve released. For me, it all comes back around to that one unique characteristic: the golden, sweet & raspy vocal chords of Jeff Tweedy.
Last night, in the ornate and acoustically divine Orpheum Theater in downtown Phoenix, the voice was in prime form, filling the small venue – from low whispers to tuneful wails. I don’t mean to get all dramatic and schmaltzy on you all, but it was such a special experience for me and the several hundred that filled the theater. Outside of a few entertaining exchanges between songs, the crowd was perfectly quiet – letting each song live and breathe – with only the sounds of Tweedy’s voice and acoustic guitar wafting perfectly in the air.
Tweedy’s set list dipped into the Wilco songbook (e.g. “Passenger Side”, “A Shot in the Arm”, “Sunken Treasure”, “How To Fight Loneliness”, “Hummingbird”, “Impossible Germany”, “You & I”), his own solo material (“Bob Dylan’s 49th Beard”), Uncle Tupelo (“”Acuff-Rose”), as well as his side project/”supergroup” Golden Smog (“Please Tell My Brother” was one of the most poignant moments).
One great spontaneous moment came when he veered from the set list for a cover of the Handsome Family’s “So Much Wine”, a dark Christmas tale of a broken relationship. I had never heard the original, and clearly I was missing out on some wonderful lyrics: “Where the state highway starts I stopped my car / I got out and stared up at the stars / As meteors died and shot ‘cross the sky / I thought about your sad, shining eyes.” Picture Tweedy singing this in a mournful country shuffle… it was magic.
Another special moment came with “Jesus, etc.”, as Jeff shared vocal duties with the crowd. It wasn’t the messy sing-a-long you’ve heard at some shows. Rather, it was a very clear and succinct, spot-on rendition, and it made the small venue feel even smaller and more intimate.
After wrapping up “I’m the Man Who Loves You” (dedicated to his wife Susie, who was in attendance with his family), Jeff stepped away from the mic for the last couple of songs, standing at the edge of the stage with no PA. “This is what it’ll be like when we lose power”, he joked, referring to a post-apocalyptic world.
This moment summed up the entire evening… here was one of the most gifted singer-songwriters of our generation, in a one-off performance – and it wasn’t about the glitz and glamor of a rock ‘n roll band. It wasn’t about effects. And hell, it wasn’t even about amplification.. It was a man and his guitar singing his songs, playing from the heart and soul, and connecting with each and every one of us lucky enough to be in attendance.
Photos: Photographer Holly Carlyle snapped some incredible photographs from the evening. Check them out here.
Set List (thanks to azcentral):
Sunken Treasure
Remember The Mountain Bed
Please Tell My Brother
Hummingbird
Country Disappeared
The Ruling Class
I Am Trying To Break Your Heart
Bob Dylan’s 49th Beard
You and I
Muzzle of Bees
How To Fight Loneliness
Impossible Germany
In A Future Age
Passenger Side
So Much Wine
Spiders (Kidsmoke)
A Shot in the Arm
Encore:
Heavy Metal Drummer
Jesus, Etc.
I’m the Man Who Loves You
Someone Else’s Song
Acuff-Rose
Slayed by the Percussion Gun: White Rabbits in Minneapolis
Nov 11th
My uncle Jamie is a vocational therapist out in Salem, Oregon. A while back, he related to me the concept of risk and how it relates to developmental wellness. If someone is regularly taking emotional, mental, physical and spiritual risks, generally speaking, they are healthier people on a number of levels.
This doesn’t mean necessarily that individuals should go jump off a cliff or rob a bank. It does mean that people should try to stretch themselves out in all four of these areas as frequently as they can. How far one stretches depends on the person. Saying “Red wine and clits go quite well together” to a group of people at a wine tasting is not much of a risk for me but it could be a huge one for someone else. Hell, in Minnesota simply saying “hi” to someone you don’t know is an emotional risk.
Lately, I’ve noticed myself dragging a bit in the risk department. I started running again in the last year and plan on doing a 5K or two in the next month so I guess that’s something in the physical realm. And I’m still my outspoken and opinionated self in regards to the topics of politics, sex, and religion which, in the land of rock granite rigidity, is a monumental risk on a number of levels. But I ALWAYS do that. I could hear my uncle’s voice in the background…”find something…take a risk.” For my entire life, I have always thought he was the coolest mother fucker (along with my dad of course) since James Dean so I was more than curious when an opportunity to take an emotional, mental, and spiritual risk…a substantially huge one considering who I am…arose.
I was asked to see a band of whom I had never heard.
Many of you may chuckle at this but for my entire life I have always been the one to dig on the cool, new bands first. I’m the one who cheerleads people into loving (insert Brit Rock band here) and goads people into going to shows with me. Invariably, they love the bands I suggest and I feel quite proud of myself. I led them to the Holy Land….
So when my friend Paul asked me to see White Rabbits, I hesitated at first. “Where are they from?” I asked. “Well, they are based out of New York but I think they are originally from Chicago,” he answered. Hmph, I thought all grumbly, not from the UK.
But I thought of my uncle and something inside of me told me to get a ticket and go. It would be an excellent emotional and mental risk to let someone else drive the Magical Mystery Tour bus for a change. And, since I am convinced that I am Holy Knight of Music, a spiritual risk as well. Perhaps Paul was a Holy Knight and I didn’t know it. He does have a good first name after all:)
I decided to be really daring and not even bother to listen seriously to any of their music. I would not buy either of their CDs and go see the show completely cold. I found out it was at a venue to which I had never been: The Cedar Cultural Center, located in the West Bank area of Minneapolis. Ah yes, even more of a risk…an untested venue with potential sound issues. I did find out, though, much to my delight that the band got their start in Columbia, Missouri. My place of birth…cool! So New York by way of Chicago and Columbia…yeah, I could dig it.
I found out that some other friends were going and, at the last minute, asked my friend Wendy to join. Wendy is an unbelievably cool chick (and accomplished artist) who loves all the same music I do. She had heard some of their songs and was keen to go. After spending an hour and half of cocktails and conversation over at the Cafe formerly known as the Riverside, my friends and I went into the CCC.
I was struck immediately by how much the place looked like a junior high school gymnasium. Wendy remarked that was because of the piano. It had that 1950s school gym look. We had timed it out just right so we arrived just before White Rabbits were about to go on. I have to admit I was nervous. What if they sucked? What if I got bored? Would I be just a total music snob around my friends if I didn’t like them? As the music started, all of my fears were washed away.
To begin with, White Rabbits have two drummers, which can sometimes morph into three or four drummers as other members of the band set their respective instruments down and hit the skins. The primal pounding coursed through my veins. It was magnificent. This was not a granola drum circle barf fest. These fucking guys knew how to hit the skins and were so tight that THEY could be a metronome for a drum machine.
They could also sing. Man, can these guys sing! I have three words for all of you: Four Part Harmony. And that’s with the relentless and cacophonous drumming going on! The blend of their voices reminded me a lot of the Beach Boys. As the set progressed and I watched the lead singer of the Spin Doctors look-alike (who may have been totally naked) make an asshat out of himself doing a pogo dance down in the pit, I realized that my risk had paid off. This band was fucking amazing. And my uncle, as he has mostly been his whole life, was right. Go through the looking glass, Alice, and there you will find…White Rabbits. Take risks and ye shall be rewarded.
Rewarded with hearing the lead singer of White Rabbits, Stephen Patterson, sing the word “know” in the chorus of “Percussion Gun” and sticking it with such a herculean force that I was slayed. And reminded of a James Brown “HA!” Rewarded with getting to experience a band live whose music I had never heard. Rewarded with a night of hilarity with friends.
But most of all, being rewarded with letting myself go…not being the music know-it-all…not being the leader…not being in control.
And loving every minute of it.
White Rabbits – Percussion Gun (mp3)
So Much World Outside The Door…
Oct 25th
“I’m going to die.”
This is what I was thinking as I drove, barely 40 mph, east on Interstate 94 from my home in the Twin Cities to the party capital of the world.
It was last Friday afternoon, October 23rd, and I was on my way to hang out with my friend George. He had called me up two months ago to inform me that Fran Healy and Andy Dunlap, of the Scot band Travis, were playing an intimate acoustic show at the Majestic Theater in Madison, Wisconsin. I was about to buy tickets for the show in Minneapolis when I decided it might be fun to trek down there and see them with a pal I had known for quite some time.
George and I met on Day One of seventh grade. I had just started at a new school and walked into my home room. Sitting there, at a table by himself, was a somewhat dour looking George..also starting at a new school. I walked right up to him and said,
“Hey, my name is Mark.”
He looked at me warily and said, “mmm…George,” and shook my hand. That was September of 1979 and we have been great friends ever since.
We have always been VERY into music over the years and have seen many great bands throughout the course of our friendship. In too many ways to tell here, the bands we listened to were the soundtrack to our lives and, on many occasions, quite literally saved us. George had never seen Travis and was especially amped to see them at the Majestic. He had been raving about the venue as being a great place to see shows because of how small it was. Was it ever!
The Majestic Theater in Madison is only slightly larger than my finished basement. Even Fran, as he first came out on stage, wondered if he was in the right place. “Is this a town hall meeting for the borough of such and such?” he asked laughing. We all chuckled along but I certainly wasn’t laughing mere hours before.
Mother Nature, in her North Woods infinite pranksterism, decided a blizzard on October 23rd might a fun thing. For nearly 45 miles, with my knuckles whiter than a sheet, I drove (slid) through blowing winds, sideways snow, and exit signs – every one of which seemed to read “Alma Center.” Changing lanes literally made my testicles recede into my body cavity as my car fish-tailed constantly. The hope, warmth, and love that what I knew was going to be a mega show was the only thing keeping me going. I imagined myself sipping a beer and hearing the voice of an angel.
Just like that, I was there! And Fran was singing the first track of the night, “20.” He informed us straight away that this was going to be a chronological journey through the Travis back catalog. In addition, he mixed a Powerpoint presentation and humor with each story he told before all of the songs in the set. “Falling Down” was inspired by the Michael Douglas film of the same name and…Joni Mitchell? During the song “Slide Show”, he and Andy literally showed one which included several pictures of the band and Paul Fucking McCartney, as the big red letters put it with an arrow pointing to Macca in a few of the snaps from over the years.
When “Driftwood” started, George leaned over to me and said, “This is my favorite Travis song of all time.” Definitely one of my faves too, and it sounded wonderful in this quiet and intimate setting. About half way through the song, George put his arm around me and gave me the bromance, two pats on the back. George has never been the hugest fan of physical affection so I counted this as being quite extraordinary and felt very blessed. Dude…
The rest of the set included “Sing”, “Side”, “Indefinitely”, “Love Will Come Through”, and “Closer”. Next up was “My Eyes”, which Fran dedicated to his son. Asking us not to take pictures during this song, he put up a few home pics of his boy and played the song with all of the love of a proud parent. “Big Chair”, one of my faves, was next and sounded magnificent. A new song called “Holiday” was played, which finished the set proper.
Out for the encore, Fran asked us what we wanted to hear. Several people shouted “Battleships” and still more asked for “Hit Me Baby One More Time”, the Britney Spears tune which Travis covered back in 1999. He said he would play both. “Hit Me” was just as good as I remember it, with the audience singing “still believe” in high falsetto which made Fran crack up several times. Andy came back out and they played “Good Feeling” followed by the last number of the night, “Battleships”, as promised.
As we left the venue, I spotted an official bootleg at the swag table for 10 bucks and snatched it up immediately. It’s the whole show complete with stories separated via track numbers from the music, so you can just hear the tunes if you like. I highly recommend it. George bought one too and we headed out into the night for an evening of pub hopping on State Street.
Played early in the set, the words from the song “Turn” reverberated in my ears in the crisp and cool autumnal night. I could have stayed home and seen them in Minny but went on an adventure instead. Sure, I almost careened off the road in a bullshit October snowstorm, but so what? The experience of the Majestic was completely worth it. More people in our “grandma and grandpa” nation need to fucking do shit like this.
As the song says…”there’s so much world outside the door”:)
Check TravisOnline for dates near you. There are several in NYC….wow!
My Night With The Pogues (@ the Marquee Theater)
Oct 22nd
Check another one off of my bucket list – I have now seen the Pogues.
Last night’s show at the Marquee Theater in Tempe was their first stop in Arizona. Ever. And it was my first chance to catch a band I’ve long admired – a legendary British band masterfully playing Irish folk music since 1982. A band fronted for most of their years by the notoriously erratic and often [always?] inebriated Shane MacGowan.
This was the 7th show of a relatively short swing across the West and central U.S., and reports in from their Los Angeles show a few nights ago had me reconsidering the steep $60 ticket price. Shane wasn’t in great shape at the Nokia Theater – stumbling and fumbling around, falling down multiple times; at one point finishing a song lying on his back.
But Shane is like that box of chocolates – you never know what you’re gonna get. He has his good days and his bad days, and I wasn’t about to miss the chance to see these legends.
After a couple pints of Guinness at my old haunt, Casey Moore’s Oyster House (I lived around the corner for five years back in my single days) – it was off to the Marquee Theater across the Mill Avenue bridge.
It was a little after 10pm when the band sauntered on stage to the sounds of the Clash’s “Straight to Hell” on the PA. 10-15 seconds after his bandmates came out (just enough time for the crowd to think “Uh oh” to themselves), Shane MacGowan – drink and cigarette in hand – shuffled out to center stage in a seasoned drunkard’s stagger.
Then the opening notes of “Sally Maclennane” kicked in, and there was no looking back. My friend Todd and I spent the show front and center, just on the outer edge of the drunken mosh pit that would vary in intensity throughout the evening (but was never still). Even during songs like “Dirty Old Town” and “Rainy Night In Soho”, there were at least a few testosterone-laced brutes jostling around.
As the show progressed, a pattern began to take shape: a couple songs with Shane, and one without – while Shane took a breather side stage (I assume). But like clockwork, Shane would make his way back to center stage, grab the mic in his signature style, and sing the great songs of the Pogues. Unlike his earlier shows in San Diego and L.A., he stood the entire time. It seems funny to be thankful that an artist you paid $60 to see was able to simply stand for a whole show. But this is Shane MacGowan we’re talking about. I’d be interested to know if Shane has ever been sober for a performance.
Clearly it was one of Shane’s “good” nights. Maybe it was the Arizona sunshine at the Biltmore luxury resort, where the Pogues stayed; or maybe it was the U2 concert in Glendale the night before, where Shane was in attendance, and prompted a shout out from Bono himself (and a segue into “Dirty Old Town”). Maybe the U2 show inspired Shane to pull it together for his fans.
Whatever forces of nature were in place, it resulted in over 90 minutes of unbridled Irish-inspired joy and revelry. The crowd – old and young alike – swayed, danced, and most notably, smiled. This was one of those live music experiences where time stood still. Before I knew it, the final song,”Fiesta”, was playing, Spider Stacy was smashing a pizza pan against his forehead, and Shane was leading the crowd in a singalong:
“Come all you rambling boys of pleasure / And ladies of easy leisure / We must say Adios! until we see Almeria once again”.
And then it was over.
I may never see the Pogues again. God willing, Shane MacGowan will continue to defy all odds behind his self destructive behavior, and he will continue to front this amazing band. But I thank the Music Gods I had an opportunity to experience the spirited majesty of a Pogues show.
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On Twitter: well, people do read the Twitter ramblings of @ickmusic! Check out this Phoenix New Times article.
On Youtube: 1123Mozart captured this great quality video of “Rainy Night in Soho”..
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Set List – Marquee Theatre – Tempe, Arizona – 10/21/2009
Sally Maclennane
Streams of Whiskey
If I Should Fall From Grace With God
The Broad Majestic Shannon
Young Ned Of The Hill
White City
A Pair of Brown Eyes
Tuesday Morning
Transmetropolitan
Kitty
Sunnyside of the Street
Repeal of the Licensing Laws
Body of an American
Old Main Drag
Thousands are Sailing
Dirty Old Town
Bottle of Smoke
The Sick Bed of Cuchulain
Star of the County Down
Rainy Night in Soho
Irish Rover
Paddy on the Railway
Fiesta
A Bloody Rager: Arctic Monkeys at First Avenue
Sep 28th
A few years back, a couple of guys on my tennis team were talking. Let’s call them Jim and John. Jim, the older brother of John, was talking about a party that John had recently while their parents were away. Jim was in his 20s and John had just finished his first year at UW-Madison.
“Mark, you should have seen what I came home to on Saturday night,” Jim said laughing. John started to chuckle.
“I come home to do my laundry and this kid,” Jim said pointing at John, “was having a bloody rager!”
He then went on to describe the large crowd that piled into the Eden Prairie, MN home of Jim and John’s parents. They drank, smoked, yelled, danced, and were basically all up in that bitch. I cracked up at Jim’s perfect and simple definition.
Over the years, I, too, have experienced many “bloody ragers” and have many fond memories from each one of them. Whenever I go to a show, depending upon the band of course, there is always a fair amount of raging that goes in the pit. The club smell always puts me right into the mood. It’s like vodka…perfume…sweat…red bulls…cologne…all mixed up in a glorious din.
It had been awhile since I was at a rager and, honestly, wasn’t expecting one when The Arctic Monkeys announced a show at First Avenue. Their new album, Humbug, sounds like…well…like they spent time with my 8th grade class in 1981 doing bong hits and listening to Ozzy Osbourne and AC/DC. Alex Turner, front man of the band, in a recent interview in NME confirmed this by stating that he and the lads from the Sheffield band had been hanging out and listening to a lot of Black Sabbath whilst recording this record. “Hanging out,” mmm? So, that’s what the kids are calling it these days.
They looked every bit the part of my eighth grade class as they came out on stage and opened with “Dance Little Liar” from the new record…long hair…band t-shirts…jeans. What happened to those posh, Kinks-looking dudes, who sang of bigger boys and stolen sweethearts? Obviously, they were still there as they ripped into the second track of the evening, “Brainstorm.” This was the moment when the rager was born.
Cups of beer, sweaty bodies, and hair flew everywhere as the pit at First Avenue became a swirling mass of humanity. I was off to the side (right next to the forbidden staircase) and stuck my proverbial toe in the water a few times. It was fucking great. When they played “Still Take You Home” from the first record, we all shouted “YOU KNOW NOTHING!” when Alex, sporting a Vines T shirt (mega:)), asked us in the lyric, “What do you know?”
“I Bet You Look Good On The Dance Floor” was next which turned the rager into a bloody rager. I took an elbow to the ribs, spilled half my Smithwicks on my trainers, and received a lateral deltoid to the chops but I didn’t care. I was in that place…a place that I will be in until I’ve fallen and can’t get up. My home…
They played several songs from the new album which sounded great live. I’ve always found the remarkable bands to be the ones that have an album which becomes more vibrant when they play live. And then you go back, listen to the record and love it more! This turned out to be true for Humbug and I was pleasantly surprised. As they closed the set proper with the beautiful “Fluorescent Adolescent,” I started to move towards the exit. My friends looked at me and said, “What about the encore?”
“The Arctic Monkeys don’t play encores,” I chuckled. I had seen them two times before. Once in Chicago and once here and they always just played extra long sets. Alex has been quoted several times as saying that encores “were for wankers.” I got a couple of steps away and noticed that the lights had not come up. People were still cheering…raging…was I (gasp) the maniacal music guru (double gasp) wrong?
Happily I was. They came back out and played an encore comprised of “Red Right Hand,” “My Propeller” and “505.” The crowd went berserk again. And the rager…oops…sorry….the bloody rager was back.
Bliss:)
For another take on the show and some fabulous pics check out my friend (and fellow Brit Rock addict) Brody’s music blog. Check TicketMaster for the Arctic Monkeys show near you.
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Check out Humbug
Shining Still…To Give Us The Will
Sep 16th
In the summer of 1980, my father pulled into our driveway. My mom and he had been divorced for just over a year. I had spent the last year missing him terribly. He was living over a half hour away in a different city. I had just turned 13 only a few months before and the hormones were raging. My emotions were all over the place as the man who had introduced me to the sacred power of music had become a part time dad.
My dad was like my own personal John Lennon. He was so fucking cool with his longhair and carefree lifestyle. He liked The Beatles, The Stones, The Who, Led Zeppelin, The Kinks, and scores of other great bands. As a child I would sit on the floor of our basement as he would pull out vinyl gem after gem and spin it on his Thorens turntable which I still own to this day. Like Alice falling through the rabbit hole, a vibrant and gorgeous world opened up to me. Anything was possible in this magical place that shone brightly, was eternally warm and forever welcoming. I learned at a very early age that as long as there was music, no one would ever be truly alone.
One artist that I fell in love with immediately was Todd Rundgren. Hermit of Mink Hollow
Review: The Gaslight Anthem at Martini Ranch, Scottsdale
Sep 16th
For the second time in just 6 months, the Phoenix area was treated last night to the bare-bones rapid-fire majesty that is the Gaslight Anthem. The guys have been touring their asses off in 2009, with two swings around the US, and a successful European festival season highlighted by a couple of guest appearances by Bruce Springsteen on “The ‘59 Sound” (at Glastonbury and Hard Rock Calling). Their work ethic is paying off, it seems. The buzz continues to build, and I felt a noticeable difference in the vibe between last night’s show at Scottsdale’s Martini Ranch, and April’s show at Tempe’s Clubhouse. The atmosphere felt more electric last night – the crowd was alive, vibrant, singing along, pumping their fists; and the venue is more colorful and inviting than the dungeon-like Clubhouse. It was my first show there, and any reluctance I had about venturing into the belly of the beast that is Scottsdale was quickly put to rest.
My brother and I (6′3″ and 6′4″) respectively, got a good position stage right – much to the disappointment of those behind us. Sorry folks, we staked our claim. Move along, nothing to see here.
The set was standard fare for the Gaslight Anthem. That’s no knock on them – it’s just that with two full albums and an EP to draw from – you have a good idea which songs are coming. But there’s nothing standard about their performance. The charisma and charm of front man Brian Fallon leads the charge…
They played all but one song off of their 2008 breakthrough The ‘59 Sound
Sound-wise, my only gripe is that Fallon’s mic could have been louder and more crisp – the vocals weren’t too clear at times. Then again, we were in front of the bass amp, so Alex Levine’s bass lines were washing over us pretty intensely.
The highlights for me came in the form of “The ‘59 Sound”, which really turned me on to the band when they performed it on Letterman early this year; the “Stand By Me” intro into “I’da Called You Woody, Joe”, which is Fallon’s ode to Joe Strummer and the Clash; I love the driving force of “The Patient Ferris Wheel”; and one of Gaslight’s few ballads, “Here’s Lookin’ At You, Kid”. I know it’s hard to pull off live, but I wish Fallon would sing it in the lower register like he does on the album – it’s such a bittersweet tune.
Gaslight’s set clocked in just short of 90 minutes, and as they wrapped it up with “We’re Getting A Divorce, You Keep The Dinner” , the final chant resonated with me: “It’s all right, man / I’m only bleeding, man. / Stay hungry, stay free, And do the best you can.” It sums up what I love about the band, and the artists they draw inspiration from – Strummer & Springsteen in particular – that in this imperfect and often unjust world in which we live, the important thing is not to let it get you down. Stay positive, care for those around you, and “stay hungry, stay free, and do the best you can.”
The Gaslight Anthem continue their hectic touring schedule. If you’re in North America, odds are they’ll be in your neighborhood by the end of the year. Check out the tour dates here. Check out a great band on an upward trajectory. There are great things to come from these guys.
Quick Notes:
- It was great meeting two friends from my Twitter existence: Drew (@azecho) and Dave (@dfactor). I met Drew when a 300 lb drunk was shoving himself through the crowd, and pushed Drew right into me. That guy cannot be feeling great today.
- I would have posted some pics, but they didn’t turn out post-worthy at all. The only decent one was of the hot Gaslight roadie.
- I didn’t mention the opening acts, Gaslight’s tour mates the Loved Ones and Death by Murder. It was my first exposure to either band. I’d have gone more into their sets, but I’m not familiar at all with them, so I’ll spare you. Enjoyable stuff, though.
Set List – 9/15/2009
Martini Ranch
Scottsdale, AZ
High Lonesome
Casanova, Baby!
Old White Lincoln
Even Cowgirls Get The Blues
The ‘59 Sound
We Came To Dance
Film Noir
Miles Davis & The Cool
The Patient Ferris Wheel
Stand by Me intro >
I’da Called You Woody, Joe
Angry Johnny And The Radio >
If I Had a Boat [Lyle Lovett]
Great Expectations
Here’s Lookin’ At You, Kid
The Backseat
Encore
Blue Jeans and White T-Shirts
Wherefore Are Thou, Elvis?
Senor and the Queen
We’re Getting A Divorce, You Keep The Dinner
Those Three Words: Snow Patrol at the State Theater in Minneapolis
Sep 13th
In April of 2004, I walked the cold, snow/rain soaked streets of downtown Minneapolis towards the now defunct music venue The Quest. I was a man obsessed. For the few weeks before this, I had been incessantly playing what has become THE ultimate break up song of all time…”Run” by Ireland’s Snow Patrol.
The band was in town to perform, not in the main room, but in the much smaller Ascot Room located in the upstairs of The Quest. I was pretty amped because the room was not all that bigger than a tennis court so essentially it was going to be like a press gig. I stood two feet from lead singer Gary Lightbody, who smiled at me constantly for being such a dork for every song he played, and watched the band play several songs from the current CD at the time, Final Straw
Less than three months later, they came back and played the main room at the Quest and it was good, but the Quest’s main room sound system really gargled old-man-in-a-rest-home testicles so I had trouble getting into it. Plus that first show was so intimate that it was hard to compare. More people were at the second gig as the band was beginning to get popular so at least that was cool.
Two years later, they released Eyes Open
Last year when the band released A Hundred Million Suns
Gary Lightbody, lead singer and songwriter for Snow Patrol, calls the song “the purest love song I’ve ever written. Even more so than ‘Chasing Cars.’ It’s luxuriating in the beauty and wonder of someone you love with all of your heart.”
I completely agree.
As the set started with the almost as romantic and deeply personal “If There’s a Rocket Tie Me To It,” a feeling slowly crept over me…ever growing…like a ripple spreading across a still Irish pond. This band travels on a path that leads very deeply into that part of the heart where the fire of romance is as eternal as the one that keeps vigil over a fellow countryman named Kennedy.
Gary solidified this as he sang, “On my knees I think clearer” for the next song, “Chocolate,” and literally did so. As the band struggled with a multitude of sound problems and Gary’s failing memory, lyrically speaking, the audience didn’t seem to care as the set list was adjusted. Looking over at my favorite show companion of all time, her face was overcome with emotion as they decided to do “Make This Go On Forever” earlier in the set. It was quite a sight to behold…to watch this companion let every single fucking word of this song resonate inside of her in glorious commonality. This was transpiring because the band had found yet another layer of heartfelt purity and, ultimately, the truth within her.
And I had realized that the songs on Eyes Open were just as good as all their rest.
When the time came for the ultimate break up song, the rest of the band left the stage. A single spotlight shone down on Gary as he sang the crush my heart wonderful words “To think I might not see those eyes /makes it so hard not to cry / and as we say our long goodbye / I nearly do.” Playing the song by himself put an interesting bend to the song and when the band then rejoined him for the ending build up, it was quite lovely.
As the set progressed, I began to prepare myself for…it. The song. That fucking song. When it started, I quickly turned to my right to see my companion’s eyes close in pure bliss. Singing every lyric, she became like true lovers everywhere as “Crack The Shutters” filled the State Theater in Minneapolis….feeling the truth of beauty in every word Gary sang….validating their belief that it does, in fact, conquer all.
As they left the stage after having done an encore of “Lighting Strikes”, “Open Your Eyes”, and “You’re All I Have”, I thought of Gary’s words above regarding “Crack The Shutters” and the song they had done back in the middle of the set…”Chasing Cars.” Yes, “Shutters” is the ultimate love song, but perhaps the song “Chasing Cars” has the ultimate line:
“Those three words…I say too much…and not enough.”
Do you have someone in your life to whom you can tell those three words? When you say them, are you continually amazed by how they look at you? And do they say them to you in the way you need to hear them?
I do.
And it’s the best fucking thing in the world.
Snow Patrol will be touring North America alone and with U2 (!) for the next six weeks. Check Ticketmaster to see if they are coming to your town.
North South East and West: The Church @ the Varsity in Minneapolis
Jun 23rd
The Church
Varsity Theater in Minneapolis
June 21st
“I’m ready!” my friend Steve exclaimed loudly after taking a bong hit whilst standing on his head. It was the dead of winter in Minnesota in early 1988. Steve, my roommate Matt and I were about to listen to the new album by the Church entitled Starfish- purchased only hours earlier.
Steve had been into the Church way before I had. When I first met him in the fall of 1982, he had already worn out his copy of The Blurred Crusade…a drippingly wonderful psychedelic chestnut reminiscent of late 60s jangly guitar water colours. I’ll never forget the first time he played “You Took” for me. Talk about a shovel to the head stunner of a track.
As we sat blissfully stoned in the dead nut cold of 1988 and listened to what would be the biggest album the Church would ever make, we were in heaven. Starfish is a gorgeous piece of music that will always stand the test of time. A few months later, Steve and several of his friends went to see the Church when they came to town. For whatever reason, I didn’t go. It was probably a girl.
As the years went on, I followed the Church as they made album after album. I always dug every one. They came to Minneapolis many times and I just never got around to seeing them. That’s just how it is sometimes with bands. So when my friend Brian called me up and asked, “Hey, do you want to see the Church on Sunday?” I knew that God had sent me a message.
Still basking in my last trip to the Varsity for Doves, Brian and I walked in to the theater to find a very sparse crowd. I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised given our state population’s reticence to go anywhere other than the cabin or the chair in front of the TV but…MAN…did many people in Minneapolis miss a great show.
They opened with “Tantalized” from Heyday -letting us know straight from the start that this was going to be seriously tight. Drifting between new and old material, focusing on their quite good new album Untitled #23, The Church brought us all on a galactic journey that soothed my mind and heart with cosmic dust. “You Took” was loud and amazing. I thought of Steve’s grinning face, of course, as he watched me dig it for the first time 27 years ago. “A Month of Sundays” was gorgeous. “After Everything” was quite sad but exceptional. “Deadman’s Hand” and “Pangea,” both from the new record, stood up against any song from Starfish.
They closed the set proper with “Under the Milky Way” and “Reptile” which sounded so lovely and beautiful that any regret I had had about never seeing them vanished in thin air. My mind drifted back to the Elm Street apartments in 1988 and without so much as a drop of alcohol or a puff of smoke, I felt marvelously high.
Check out The Church’s latest album, Untitled #23:
Web Site: The Church
The Church is playing next on…..
JUN 24 WED THE INTERSECTION * GRAND RAPIDS, MI
JUN 25 THU THE MAGIC BAG * FERNDALE, MI
JUN 26 FRI BEACHLAND BALLROOM * CLEVELAND, OH
JUN 27 SAT REX THEATRE * PITTSBURGH, PA
JUN 28 SUN THE STATE THEATRE * FALLS CHURCH, VA
JUN 30 TUE RAM’S HEAD ONSTAGE * ANNAPOLIS, MD
JUL 1 WED THE TROCADERO * PHILADELPHIA, PA
JUL 2 THU SHOWCASE LIVE * FOXBOROUGH, MA
JUL 3 FRI TUPELO MUSIC HALL * LONDONDERRY, NH
JUL 7 – TRALF MUSIC HALL *BUFFALO, NY
JUL 8 WED IRVING PLAZA * NEW YORK, NY
JUL 9 THU THE RIDGEFIELD PLAYHOUSE * RIDGEFIELD, CT
JUL 10 FRI SWYER THEATRE * ALBANY, NY
JUL 11 SAT – CISCO OTTAWA BLUESFEST
JUL 12 SUN – IMPERIAL THEATRE, QUEBEC CITY.
And When You Will Walk, You’ll Be Walking With Me…
May 30th
Doves
Varsity Theater, Minneapolis
May 28th
“Hey, George, where are you? You should be here man.”
I didn’t think it was possible after seeing Friendly Fires, White Lies, Travis, Franz Ferdinand, Bloc Party, and Keane (my Brit Rock Love tour) for my musical taint to be more stimulated. I should’ve known better….it was Doves.
Four years ago, almost to the day, I went to the Vic Theater in Chicago with my friends George and Annette. George I had known for 26 years and Annette for just under one year. It didn’t really matter how long I knew them because it was the first time in a long time that I was seeing a show with two people who LOVED music…who felt its power in every fiber of their being…who knew, like I always have, that music is the daily (hourly) healing elixir for the soul. And it was in Chicago…a town whose tendrils latched onto me in a wonderful and parasitic way long ago. We were ready to soak in the aural salve that is the eternal bandage to all people. And we really fucking did that evening because…it was Doves.
I look back on that night now and realize in hindsight how significant it was for me. It was the genesis of a journey on a path filled with heart. Had I not gone down that path, I would not be the person I am today. And I thank God every day for each minute, hour, day, week and month of the past four year’s quest. It’s forged me into the man I am today and, in the best possible way, it’s still not over.
As with any bit of travel, be it physical, mental, emotional or spiritual (and in this special case, it was all four), the music you hear at that defining moment…the alpha, if you will…is to be fucking cherished. Doves were the soundtrack to that journey. This band is very, very close to my heart because they have been the underlying and terribly gorgeous hum ever since that moment four years ago.
So, I had my doubts that I could top that night back in Chicago. George was supposed to come up but couldn’t due to a conflict. Annette is living her life in Chicago. I thought of how much I missed both of them and wished they could be drinking up the magic musical potion with me. I have to admit that the melancholy for my friends was taking its toll on me as I walked up to the Varsity Theater in the Dinkytown area of Minneapolis. Dinkytown is a four square block commercial area located right next to the University of Minnesota campus. In my day, back in the 80s, it was really not all that great. Now, it is mega. The Loring Pasta Bar, the Kitty Kat Club (so cool), the Library ( a sports bar), several cafes with outdoor seating populate the small area giving it a very warm and Parisian/Florentine feel.
As I sauntered up to the Varsity, a movie house in my day, I checked the set times with the bouncer. 9pm for Doves and it was 8pm. So I had an hour to BS with my friends at the aformentioned Kitty Kat Club for a couple of pre show cocktails. I took a few steps down the street to where the Kitty was and turned to see…Jimi Goodwin, bass player and lead singer of Doves, having a smoke and taking in the sights. WOW!
Squelching the urge to be like one of those girls in the Ed Sullivan Theater when the Beatles played there in 1964, I said, “Hey, Jimi, how’s it going?”
“Good, man.”
“Take a pic with me?” I asked with the girl inside of me jumping around like a giddy cheerleader.
“Sure.”
“And could you say a little something on a quick vid to my buddy George who couldn’t make it.”
“Of course” I started the camera.
“Hey, George, where are you? You should be here man,” Jimi said with a smile to the lens.
Other folks happened by and noticed him. He signed all our tickets and I had one more thing to say to him.
“Winter Hill…amazing fucking song, dude.”
“Tough one, innit?” he said and he looked directly at me. I knew what he meant. And when he looked at me he smiled to see that I got it too. Any notion that this night would not live up to that night four years ago was fucking out of the mother fucking window at that point. I just had a conversation with Jimi Goodwin about the meaning of one of his songs…a meaning that had direct bearing on that night four years ago…a meaning that had direct bearing on me. I had not heard a single, live note yet and I was in heaven.
My friend Heather happened upon me during all of this exchange and was kind enough to take this picture at left. After me talking a mile a minute, at the Kitty, about how fucking top gear it was to meet Jimi, we boogied back to the Varsity and parked ourselves in the pit.
They opened with “Jetstream”, the first track from their new album Kingdom of Rust. They wrote it to be an alternate soundtrack to the opening moments of the 1981 film, Blade Runner. How cool! After that was “Snowden,” with the twins, Andy Williams (drums) and Jez Williams (guitar) sounding magnificent. And then came “Winter Hill”. On first listen to this track, it might seem to the small minded that the lads from Wimslow are straying into “Every Breath You Take” territory. But no…no no. “Winter Hill” is about sacred love – the kind that you get from being on a journey filled with heart…the kind that stays with you forever.
The rest of their set was an excellent mix of tracks from all four of their albums. “Rise” was triumphant. “Pounding” kicked ass. “Words” was stunning. “The Greatest Denier” caused me to reflect very deeply. In so many ways, I am the greatest denier of the human condition. As the last song of the set proper began, “Caught by the River,” Jimi sang:
“Son
What have you done?
You’re caught by the river
You’re coming undone
Life
You know it can’t be so easy
But you can’t just leave it
Cause you’re not in control no more
And you give it all away
Would you give it all away now?
Don’t let it come apart
Don’t want to see you come apart”
Can someone explain to me how melancholy, through music, can actually be a good thing?
Carrying this feeling further, the first song of the encore was the rarely played “Northenden” with only Jimi on acoustic guitar and their tour keyboard player Martin Rebelski providing accompaniment. As Andy and Jez came back on stage, Jimi went back to the drum kit. Andy had his harmonica with him and stepped up to the mic so we knew what was next…”Here It Comes.” Doves have always impressed me with their ability to swap around instruments and play whatever they need to play to suit the song.
“The Last Broadcast” was next which re-ignited my interest in that song. Finally came the ultimate exercise in self actualization, “There Goes The Fear,” and as this last song echoed into the night..the perfect song for the perfect moment…the realization swept over me that while this night wasn’t “better” or “worse” than that night four years ago, it was different…different in the most touching way. As Jimi had told me a couple of hours before,
“Tough one, innit?”
Doves will be playing Detroit, Toronto, Drummondsville East, Montreal, New York, Philly, DC, and Boston in the next few weeks before heading back to the UK.
Visit: Doves.net
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