So I do not update this blog as much as I’d like to.  All four of you that are reading it may be disappointed by my inconsistency, and I apologize for making you wait (with baited breath) on my next post.

My posts are usually very long-winded, contain lots of extra details you don’t care to hear, and believe it or not, are pretty well thought out.  I need to give my ideas time to marinate, and I usually like to sleep on them so I can reread them to make sure I’m not posting gibberish.  I’m not going to promise more frequent updates, because I’d be lying if I did.

So with that out of the way, here’s my first concert review!  I’ve never written about music critically, so prepare for hyperbole, name-dropping, and disagreeable ratings.

June 23rd, 2102, 8:30 PM: Built to Spill, with Junebug Spade and Caveman

This concert occurred right in the middle of a bombastic, fantastic birthday weekend for Anthony.  For my mother’s sake, I’ll write about the most wholesome part of the weekend (this concert).  The rest of this weekend involved a lot of PBR, and may warrant its own post later.  Anyways, while Anthony and some other knuckleheads were enjoying the Phillies game (go back to Boston, Pap), Crazy Al and I dropped by the Union Transfer to check out Built to Spill (his first time, my second).  The venue was pretty neat, built in what was formerly the Spaghetti Warehouse, the inside was spacious, tastefully decorated, and provided a great balcony to see the stage.  Of course I didn’t take any pictures (what am I, a tourist?), but I hope my words paint the picture for you!  After crushing a few PBRs in the parking lot, we walked into the first opening band’s setlist a few songs in.

Junebug Spade 8.5/10

Pretty rad indie-alternative-rockers, a great choice to open for BtS, and an even better choice for my ears.  Halfway into their first song I thought to myself “Hey, these guys are actually fucking awesome.”  Just some dudes from Oklahoma, living the rockstar dream (long hair, faded shirts, probably smelled bad).  These guys could shred, and used the tried and true soft-loud-soft dynamic that is the hallmark of indie music.  This instantly puts me at ease, along with the unmistakable indie guitar twang.  Throw in some The Bends-era Radiohead vocals (to be honest, I just couldn’t understand what he was saying), and guitar solos that bled the 90’s, and you get my seal of approval.  I think I clapped the hardest of the 30 people that were there at that point.  There were a few so-bad-that-it’s-good moments, but I didn’t expect a ton of polish for a band opening for the opening band.  They’ve been around for a couple years, but they sound like earlier, rocker Built to Spill, albeit a lot less weird.  If you’re a fan of the crap I listen to (see: Crazy Al), check these guys out, or even better, download and support them!  After the left the stage to minor amounts of applause, the stage was set and some dudes in ties came out on stage.

Caveman  9.5/10

(Cool album art, right?)

Introducing, Caveman, or, caveman because they’re a pretentious band who leaves proper grammar to the “sellouts”.  Anyways, they’re some kids from New York, who wear ties onstage, and the singer plays a big ‘ol drum, probably to look like an ironic caveman.  Though they may have looked like dweebs, their set was pretty sweet.  The introduction went something like this: “We’re Caveman…turn the lights down.”  Love that attitude.  During their set, all the lights on stage were blue, and shit got cosmic.  While Junebug Spade sounded like older BtS, these guys took all the best spacey, experimental bits from BtS’s weird albums and combined with with some post-rock sensibility.  There were lyrics to the songs, but that isn’t what struck me.  These guys created a sound that negated the physical realm, did away with conscious distractions, and just made music you could like, feel, man.  Sure this may sound tripped out and cliche, but while most pop music today is auto-tuned instant gratification, caveman created music with a sense of depth and emotion that is lacking in a lot of the junk I hear on the radio.  When the lights turned back up, it felt like getting out of a swimming pool, so bright and refreshing, and I was left with hope for the music industry.  Maybe I’m looking too deeply into this and they just put on a decent live show that I wasn’t expecting at all.  Or, I truly had an enlightening concert experience because of the mesmerizing sights, ethereal sounds, fire in my belly, and one vulnerable moment where I became one with everything around me.  Or it was the beer.  Whatever.  Time for the main event!

Built to Spill 7/10

Fuck yeah Built to Spill!  I love these guys, they’re in my top-tier of favorite bands with Modest Mouse and Pavement.  I was so excited to see these guys for a second time.  Why the 7/10 rating then?  Many reasons.  The second time doing anything isn’t as great or special as the first time.  They didn’t play much of their older, jammier, psychedelic work (they did play two rarities though, props for that).  Their set was pretty short, but that was countered by some pretty tubular guitar solos at the end of most of their songs.   Maybe it was the quasi-religious experience I had with caveman earlier, but something about this show felt a little tired.  Or, they didn’t play any songs from my favorite LP, or even goin’ against your mind.  I may sound like a cranky old man, but I had high expectations.  The saving grace was them ending their encore with the deep, brooding “Broken Chairs”.

Built to Spill, like my other favorite bands, were stepchildren of the collapsing grunge era and fledgling beginning of indie music in the 90s.  They may have flirted with mainstream appeal with a few odd singles, but their overwhelming weirdness has kept them out of the spotlight for all these years.  Seeing as how I’m overwhelmingly weird, these bands strike a chord with me (pun completely intended).  When you’re seeing your favorite bands perform, especially with a small but devoted fanbase, you feel a sense of kinship with the people around you.  Whether 14 or 40, everyone is here for one simple, hedonistic reason.  It’s just a terrific feeling, and not one that I’d trade for the world.

(This is the part where I take what I wrote about and try to justify it by relating it to culture/psychology/humanity as a whole)

There’s a whole world of music out there, why wouldn’t you listen to something that’s meaningful to you?  As someone who’s never been popular, popular music hasn’t had much appeal to me.  I’ve found my very specific niche, and it’s music I can relate to.  It’s made by people I can relate to.  It sounds special to me.  There’s a sound out there that’s perfect for everybody.  If not, you can go make those sounds yourself.  Reach out and cultivate a rich aural representation of yourself, speak for your music as much as it speaks for you.  In our world of mass media and instant connectivity it’s never been easier to find new tracks by new bands on new labels.  Or new tracks by old bands on rare records.  Or new bands from old cities that play new instruments.  Every song I hear, play, or feel gets added to my life’s ongoing playlist, and in a lifelong journey to make meaning of my life, I at least want the tunes to be good.