Grow till tall.

Jonsi at the Pabst Theater Milwaukee, WI 4.26.10

Ok, I said I didn’t think this was possible, but I’m going to attempt to put into words the wonder that was seeing Jonsi Birgisson live Monday night at the Pabst Theater in Milwaukee.

This has nothing to do with having been a long time Sigur Ros fan, although chances are the ladyfriend wouldn’t have bought us tickets had we not known who this glass-voiced Icelander was.  And having only listened to his new solo effort “Go” once, I was certainly more excited by what I had read about this tour and the collaboration with 59 Productions, a U.K. based theatrical video design company.

There are differing opinions on what constitutes a good concert.  Hopefully more often than not, the performers’ music should be enough to stand on it’s own without a fancy light show, but it’s hard to deny the fact that even the best bands get that extra “oomph” from a good stage show.   I would venture to say that Jonsi’s music is in itself quite spectacular, if not only for the fact that he has one of the most unique voices out there.  And his non-Sigur Ros work with his boyfriend Alex Somers is proof that Jonsi can (with a little boy love and help) conjure up some equally jaw-dropping soundscapes on his own.

But the trick to pulling off this tour was that the production crew did a perfect job of matching the visual with the aural.  The show started with just Jonsi and one other band member under a soft yellow light doing a quiet acoustic number.  It was obvious by the silence in between lyrics and strings that this audience was holding their collective breath for what was about to happen. And then the rest of the band appeared, rolling out song after song in many different formations.  The backdrop at first consisted of a large scrim and a few onstage panels upon which were projected cave painting-like animations of various animals, tree shadows, indistinct handwriting… that sort of thing. Towards the end of the second song, the projection slowly started to “burn” from one corner until it consumed the whole stage, and the embers somehow became golden butterflies which then turned to silver and delivered us into the next number. Yeah, this was about to get real interesting. The lady and I both noticed at the same time that not only could you look up and see more accidental projections on the cieling dome of this intimate historic venue, but the drummer’s shadow was also being cast like a giant across the far wall, his hands appearing to pick apart and stir the tiny humans onstage. Not a bad visual metaphor for the things percussionist Thorvaldur Thorvaldsson was doing.  Seriously one of the most inventive, energetic and amazing drummers I have ever seen.

At some point the backdrop changed to resemble a partially destroyed glass skyscraper. The projecctions continued to change throughout the rest of the show, from storm clouds to rising blue water to opening and closing doors to something resembling piano keys.  Meanwhile the music just kept us entranced.  Towards the end of the set, they even brought it down to a “hootenanny” sort of feel with the band crowded around Jonsi on piano with minimal lighting.  And then the inevitable big wow of the finale, followed by the unexpected Icelandic rendition of “Happy Birthday” for one of the crew.  And then the final blow, which I’ve decided to keep to myself.  I’m not trying to be a dick by building this up to nothing, it’s just that if you weren’t there… well, you just weren’t there.

Of skins and heart.

See how I used an album title from the subject of my previous entry to title this one?  Clever indeed, but don’t expect me to keep that up.

I was all prepared to come in here with a review of the Quasi show we saw last Friday night, but I’m sorry to report that the show as a whole wasn’t really worth reviewing.  I did however come away with something to write about, inspired by the same reason I went to that show to begin with.  Quasi is a band mainly consisting of “singer”/guitarist/organist Sam Coomes and his 10,000 times more talented ex-wife Janet Weiss.  She has also played with Stephen Malkmus and his Jicks, but most notably is one-third of the temporarily disbanded and eternally awesome Sleater-Kinney.

While I could write about how amazing Weiss is, I feel that she would be better honoured by never knowing that she inspired me to write a piece on drummers and drumming in general.

A million heartbeats ago, I spotted a half-naked lady dancing in my sister’s room.  She was about two inches tall, wearing a Mexican dress and flaunting her cluster of grapes in front of a crumbling plaster wall from which hung a crooked crucifix.  Of course I was a maturing young man, but I was also a burgeoning music fan and was lucky enough to have a cool older sister who brought home a cassette of the Pixies’ ‘Surfer Rosa’ from her job at a record store.  I’ve always admitted that the nudity caught my eye, but it was also just a really cool photograph by Simon Larbalestier.  There will likely be more about him in a different entry about another passion of mine.

But anyway, I popped that tape in and… well it literally changed my life.  Again, I could go on forever about the majesty that is the Pixies, but more specifically, the sounds and energy that David Lovering was delivering to my cochlea that day injected me with a newfound infatuation with listening to stuff being hit with sticks, and drove me to do quite a lot of the same. 

Jokes about drummers aside, they are usually underrated or just plain ignored, even though they are often the loudest person on stage.  In my opinion, they are sometimes given too much credit. (We all know that band should have been called “Buckingham Land”)  And believe me, you don’t want to hear me rant about that pasty talentless sack of crap that Jack White dragged around for years. 

Sure, I can appreciate a great frontman or woman, and I know what to look for in people who play “real instruments”.  But when I hear a band, I’m almost always paying attention to the drums – just ask my poor steering wheel.  And when I see a live show, I always try to make sure I can see the drummer.  And even if the rest of the music is not all that great, the opportunity to watch someone like Janet Weiss in a small room with only 30-40 other people is always welcome. 

So people please: try to pay more attention to the guys and gals back there keeping everything together.  You probably wouldn’t be dancing, head bobbing or at least tapping your feet if they weren’t there.  And you never know, it might just be the best part of the show for you too!

Janet Weiss; with Sleater-Kinney, Coachella 2006

An intimate space indeed.

People, I’ve been attending concerts for many many years.  The first one I can remember was Roy Orbison when I was about 8 years old.  And I’ve been fortunate enough to see a lot of great performances over the years.  My current financial situation, while not as dire as billions of peoples, is somewhat strained when it comes to luxuries.  Still, live music is something that I will sacrifice other pleasures for, if I deem the band worthy.  What I’m saying is that my ladyfriend and I have to be a little more selective this year than we were in ’09. 

But I’m really happy that I forked out the dough for us to enjoy “an evening with the church” the other night.  Yes, they usually bill themselves in all lower case, so don’t get all grammar-y on me.  I also recently remarked to a fellow fan that it’s kind of sad when your favourite bands start titling their shows “an evening with…”  Add to that the fact that it was a seated show, they handed out full-blown glossy programs, and we – in our 30s – were almost the youngest people in the room, and it sounds like a potential has-been fest.  Not so. 

This was the U.S. leg of the bands 30 year anniversary “intimate space” tour. Yet another hint of prepackaged contrivance was the fact that we already knew that they were going to play a song from each of their numerous albums, beginning with the newest and ending up at the beginning.  I personally am most familiar with their mid-career albums, and have barely heard anything of theirs since the mid 90’s.  But they’ve always been critical darlings while holding down a somewhat cultish fanbase.  You can read about their history and musical output elsewhere, I’m trying to get around to telling you about the show.

So yeah, no surprises on the setlist in the main part of the performance. Except for me not knowing that they did a jazz version of Reptile on a later album, which slinked out of the speakers with the same comical aplomb that the band amused us with in between songs.  I guess you tend to build some pretty good verbal riffage when you’ve been together that long.  I’m not kidding, they were downright hilarious.  At one point a conversation somehow started with an empty stool and ended up with Peter Koppes complaining that the band had to pay airfare for the invisible dwarf that occupied it.

The songs, while acoustic, still managed to hold as much weight as they ever did. As you might guess, they did perform their biggest Stateside hit, but only after Steve Kilbey led into it with some smart arsed dialogue about its use in a luxury car commercial.  I was a bit disappointed that we only got to  hear one Marty Willson-Piper led song.  He’s always been my favourite.  But any chance to see his inimitable mastery of the 12-string guitar is nothing to be scoffed at.  He may look more like a washed up biker than the fluffy haired troubadour he once was, but he is certainly still Marty. 

So after almost 30 songs, a lot of jokes and a night of damn solid tunes, we were back in 1980. And not in a bad hair way. They came back for a quick encore, which included a nod to Billy Corgan in the form of Smashing Pumpkins’ “Disarm”.  Unusual, yes, but apparently he’s been playing one of their tunes live recently. 
Sometimes you have to wonder whether reliving some of your youth is worth a $30 ticket to see a bunch of old guys marching orderly through their back catalog.  In this case my vote is an emphatic yes.

the church, Majestic Theatre, Madison, WI 4/14/10

So this is the blogoshpere.

Now that I’m pretty sure this “blog” fad is going to be around for a while, I figure I’ll give it a shot.

I used to write poetry.  Kept journals for a while.  I’ve played drums on and off for years.  But it’s been a while since I had any kind of creative outlet. Yeah, I’ve got the ol’ Facebook page for daily ruminations, and I have a page on deviantart.com where I occasionally update my journal there.  But I do have a lot of stuff in this 38 year old cranium, so why not spill some of it here, and even if nobody cares to read it at least I can exercise my brain and typing skeels.

Stay tuned, something mildly interesting might happen.