8:00 PM @ Theatre of the Living Arts, Philadelphia, PA
Before I start, some thoughts:
I don’t know the difference between “theater” and “theatre”. Other than the latter seems like the version snobs would prefer.
Didn’t go into the venue until 9, don’t know shit about Fixyn.
The sound in the place sucked, unfortunately. Took away from a pretty good concert.
By now, everyone show know the story of Lil Dicky. For the uninformed, the about page of his website sums it up better than I could. Selected quotes:
Lil Dicky is the voice of the voiceless. In an era where rap is dominated by racial, social, and economic minorities, LD decided to put the upper-middle class on his frail, Jewish shoulders.
…
A non-traditional rapper, Lil Dicky uses a mix of comedy, lyrical ingenuity, and self-deprecation to spew out entertaining and relatable content.
…
At night, he’ll pee sitting down, due to fatigue.
Originally a Philly guy who lived out in the Bay Area doing an office job. He quit and started his rapping career about 9 months ago. Now he’s touring the Northeast and this was his first show ever.
The main act started shortly after we got in and got drinks. He started off with what is arguably his anthem:
The place blew the fuck up. I’d never been to a rap show before, and Lil D had never performed in one either so I didn’t know what to expect. It was a happy surprise to find LD had a tremendous stage presence. He was great with the crowd, full of energy, and in an Iverson jersey. Really the perfect start to the show.
LD had smooth transitions betweens all of his songs. First, he hearkened back to his business degree to display some charts portraying market share in the rap game. He was able to have the crowd provide the beat for a freestyle, and also got the crowd to chant “precum”.
He also gained some key street cred. He introduced his hypeman, the archetypical cool black guy that everyone who doesn’t have black friends wishes they had as a friend. There may have been less than 10 black people in the audience so he asked all the white guys in the venue to cheer. There were a lot of cheers.
He got Nerlens Noel to show up, which further endeared him to Philadelphians.
A heroic performance throughout the night. Really makes me wish I could hear half the shit he said. Hat’s off to this dude not liking whatever he was doing, taking life by the balls, and becoming a rapper. Grabbing his 20s by the balls. Living the dream.
Solid 8.5/10, sound in the TLA was so shitty.
Follow the guy on Twitter and Youtube before he makes it big.
I stopped writing. Because I’m a lame as fuck duck. And real life, but whatever. It’s important for me to finish writing this. The details may not be as vivid, but the important parts have stuck and I guess that’s what I should be taking from this journey anyways.
I’ve actually revisited California since my break in writing and that’s recolored my thoughts of Los Angeles, that said I’ll recount the rest of #govinbhaigoestoLA as the one-time naive govin. My subsequent visit to California and life-in-general in between are topics to be discussed some other day.
I really need to keep writing. Also, keep count of how many sentences I start with “I”.
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Sitting stationary, awkwardly upright for 12+ hours a day does awful, terrible things to one’s body. Being a passenger is nearly as bad as being the driver in this case. Muscles atrophy, joints ache (joints help, too!), the mind hurts. Even consistent breaks to stretch and walk around couldn’t undo an entire day of sitting. Cars suck
10/13/13
Part 1: Shamrock to Albuquerque
We left Shamrock, Texas at 6 AM. It was very cold. On the front of the Econolodge, someone had painted a shamrock with the stars and stripes, and goddamn it was beautifully ‘Murican. The rest of the town was pretty sad.
The sky was clear and dark as we left. It was dark almost the entire time we were in Texas. But the sky was clear and I could see the stars. There was little light pollution, little dust, and bright, clear stars painting the entire sky. We had been driving for two days, and we really haven’t gotten that far, you know?
Another thunderstorm passed overhead and we lost sight of the stars, and Texas was dark once again. We drove for a few more hours, past Amarillo and saw a textbook definition of Texan sprawl (it was disgusting – motels and fast food everywhere). Panhandle sucked.
Texas panhandle, lacking panache
Finally, in Vega, TX we stopped for gas (worst bathrooms and coffee of the trip) and I took over driving duty for the first (and only time) during this trip. I had volunteered a couple times, but Anthony powered through. Kid likes driving or he’s afraid of me driving his car which is just as likely.
I’m glad I got to drive though, because now I can say I actually “drove” across the US. Don’t mean to brag but my driving was probably the highlight of all the driving we did.
Not long after I started driving, Texas started being less boring (flat)
And soon we were in New Mexico. Anthony notes: they had the best state sign
New Mexico was sneaky a super cool state. The weather, the landscape, the food (!!!!!). It was really everything I was hoping Arizona would be. Also we went an hour back in time, whoa.
Check out this ‘butte!
New Mexico was the first state when we really began to feel the desert heat. I am a creature of warmth and that shit felt SO GOOD. Keep in mind that this was in October. I would give you my wallet right now if I could be back in New Mexico.
So we stopped in Santa Rosa at 9 AM, probably the shortest driving/break ratio of the trip. Even the gas station was chill and the views were beautiful.
Take me back
Highways and homes cut into the red and blue rocks all around us. The desolation of the midwest began to feel like our exploration of the southwest. The weather was divine.
Albuquerque, not only one of the hardest cities to spell, was a sweet place to hitch our wagon and grab an early lunch (that’s “brunch” for you white people) around 11. I parallel parked like a boss ass city dweller and we walked to Frontier New Mexico Diner (the second best restaurant of the whole trip). The joint was right across the street from the University of New Mexico’s main campus, and I saw some bros with mustaches, some chicks with short hair, and instantly felt at home.
The place was PACKED. It was a Sunday and there was a mix of college students, presumptive visiting parents, and some truly bizarre locals. I had a strong inkling that Guy Fieri had probably been through the place but have not done the research to back that up. I think I ordered the breakfast burrito and saw heaven for the first time.
So good that I actually took a picture of it
Boner jams, panty slushies, that’s what that place was. I give it a hard 10/10. We left Albquewhatever at 11:40 and found the Eagles game on the radio, Anthony’s dad Nick also texted us the best text updates you’ve ever seen. Part 2 of day 3 was the most beautiful leg of the journey.
Part 2: What’s more beautiful, the Southwest, or Nick Foles?
(I really miss football season)
Very easy for anyone in Philadelphia to say now, but this was week 6, the Eagles were 2-3 and Vick pulled a hammy the week before. This kid Foles brought the Eagles back at the end of that game, but it was against a shitty Giants squad. Conventional wisdom claimed that “Chip Kelly’s Offense” needed a mobile QB to open up running lanes and truly explode.
I was a Foles guy before it was cool. *dodges tomatoes thrown at me* But really I was excited for him to start. Vick was not a long term answer and was generally a glass cannon. Nick Foles was an accurate pocket-passed, if all sorts of white, slow and awkward. And he beat the Bucs in Tampa a year ago, let’s at least pull out this win in relief and see what happens.
Words could probably do this portion of the trip justice, but I’m not super good at words so I’ll use a lot of pictures and only periodic words. It helps that these were some of the best pictures of the trip. Anthony took over driving so I just felt out the vibes.
Around 1:30 PM local time, we saw our first tumbleweeds. We lost radio stations. At 2:30 we got to Arizona, and there were exactly 0 radio stations available. It was hot. The Eagles had won. And soon, we went back in time again.
It was really pretty boring at first. But we finally split off the interstate (looks pretty much identical from state to state) onto a back road that would drive us through Tonto national park into Tempe. I took 50+ pictures and remembered that Anthony was afraid of heights. I greatly enjoyed this leg of the journey, Anthony not so much.
The boring before the mountains. We stopped for gas in Holbrook, AZ around 2:30 and started the scenic route.
Anthony, not digging it.
It helps to know that I was pretty stoned.
Motha
Fuckin
Cacti
It was dark by the time we got into Tempe (nearly 6 PM) and Anthony was moderately peeved. I didn’t get many good pictures of the city but it was mostly highways so you’re not missing much. My big plan was to meet a POI at Arizona Sate that evening (which I did, at a pretty cool bar called Boulders on Broadway, rock climbing theme, qizzo and everything <3).
More importantly, I had my first In N Out burger and fries (animal style of course).
The burger was a solid 8/10, the fries were very weak, 5.5/10. In the future: animal style on burger, ketchup on fries.
Some last points about the Tempe/Phoenix area:
Everything was extremely spread out. The Phoenix metro area is basically two giant highway loops that connect a bunch of strip malls.
Sundevil Stadium looked almost exactly like the Linc, without all the fancy wind turbines and shit.
Downtown Tempe was constrained to one big strip, but it seemed nice.
Bike lanes EVERYWHERE!
We were close. On day 4 we’d make it to California.
Mileage count: Today – 800 miles, Total – 2507 miles
So I took a creative writing class what seems like forever ago (Spring ’11 semester with Kathryn Ionata, she’s rad), and this is the best piece of work that’s come out of it. It’s not awesome or anything, but that class is what really piqued my interest in writing (and hence, this blog). I’ve been hella busy traveling, job hunting, and generally making sense of my life, so this week’s posts have been minimal. Once again, I’m going to take the lazy way out and post something that’s already done, but some positive feedback *hint hint* would work wonders for my ego, and probably get me back on my blogging game.
Without further ado, here’s Cortez the Killer, which was inspired by the Built to Spill song of the same name, which was inspired by the Neil Young & Crazy Horse song of the same name.
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I am Montezuma II, ruler of the Aztec empire. My kingdom is the largest, most powerful empire in the whole world. My people are happy and prosperous, the women are all beautiful, and the men are all brave; I am blessed. Tenochtitlan is a city unlike any other, masterfully designed with wide, straight streets, towering buildings, bustling markets and magnificent pyramids. These pyramids are located at the four corners of Tenochtitlan, temples for the awesome gods who have built this city and protect my people.
No outside force can cause us any harm; our warriors are the strongest in the land. Their armor and weapons are blessed by priests and can withstand and strike down any foe. My warriors are elite; any skirmishes at the outskirts of my borders are subdued quickly. Opposing tribes know better than to attack us. War and hate are unknown to my people. For this reason warriors were respected, but stationed outside of city. We live and prosper in peace. My people are selfless, offering life and sacrifice for their kin. They work together for the well-being of each other and their beloved king. I have been the best ruler Tenochtitlan has ever known. Everything was perfect, how it should have been.
But strangely, on a bright and sunny day lightning struck a ruined pyramid in the farthest corner of the city, setting a part of it ablaze and killing the few priests that remained there. I assembled a group of pipiltin – the nobles who live in my palace – and we went to Huitzilopochtli’s pyramid. He is a ferocious god who represents war, the sun, and Tenochtitlan itself. Upon arriving I realized my people had begun to take their safety and harvest for granted. Fewer and fewer priests dedicated time here; tributes from the peasants had become nonexistent. It was a shame that the place had become forgotten and neglected, but it had never been brought to my attention before now.
This pyramid used to be tall and intimidating, now it slouched and crumbled. Built with red wood and black soil it was garishly adorned with murals of the sun and Huitzilopochtli himself. Originally painted with the blood of war prisoners the murals had gone from bright red to a muted brown. The whole thing had become dull and indistinguishable from the mud at its base. The wooden foundation was growing fungi and tiny creatures were calling the rotted wood home. The last of the fire smoldering along one edge of the pyramid was red and black, a reminder of how things used to be.
After climbing up a mountain of ancient stairs to the pyramid’s sanctuary, I sacrificed a peasant child on the altar to summon up this most powerful deity. The child’s blood flowed through grooves on the altar, running onto the bust of Huitzilopochtli in the center of the room. With a flash of light as bright as the sun he appeared. Huitzilopochtli was built with the wings and features of a hummingbird and the body of a warrior. He was the size of 10 men and had the strength of 100. His face was painted black and carried a stern expression. The rest of his body changed into every color of the sun could be, from the deep red of sunset to blinding white of midday. Over his feathered skin was thick crystal armor, in his left hand his scepter – a massive snake that would obey only his word. Huitzilopochtli towered above us, but looked me in the eye. From this close I could see that his eyes did not have pupils, but instead were large circular mirrors. Seeing myself in his gaze, I spoke to him.
“O great Huitzilopochtli, what caused the death of my priests? How can my people appease you?”
“You do not deserve to rule this magnificent place. Tenochtitlan was immaculate until you poisoned it with your arrogance.”
His voice boomed throughout my kingdom. My subjects could not hear such slander about their beloved ruler. Why had the gods turned on me? “I do not understand, why did you kill my priests? They are here to serve you!”
“But you have done nothing to serve me. It is a sign of things to come…” Huitzilopochtli closed his eyes and I was overcome with a burning heat. Before my eyes his body went up in flames, igniting the tapestries adorning the sanctuary. His snake hissed out in agony, my sign to escape. I quickly fled down the stairs as the temple started burning down. Huitzilopochtli had abandoned us.
***
11 Augusto 1519
From the logbook of Captain Hernan Cortez,
We have passed the Cuban territory and made landfall on a remote peninsula. We lost a scouting boat in a severe storm. Morale is low and good men were lost on that ship. We have stopped to lick our wounds and restock munitions on board. The natural terrain is rich in resources but the topography is unknown to my scouts – we will have to stay close to base for now.
It was brought to my attention that my men captured a messenger of the native Tlaxcala tribe. Weak and unarmed he was contained easily and we are now holding him hostage. I will arrange a meeting with his king at dawn.
***
For days since my meeting with Huitzilopochtli I had wandered the halls of my palace, pondering the secrets of his cryptic message. I had been unable to sleep, restlessly walking through each corridor and pathway every night. Peering out from a balcony I saw a decrepit old woman, weeping and shrieking in the street. This putrid old hag was absolutely revolting, and could not have been from a lineage of beautiful Aztecs. “Leave while you still can! Leave while you still can! Quetzalcoatl is angry with our King!!” Quetzalcoatl has not been seen or heard from in decades, how could he be angry now? I have done nothing wrong. Who was this terrible old woman and how could she speak to Quetzalcoatl? She sensed my thought and cast her beady eyes upon me. Instantly I felt my skin burn, the same pain I felt when Huitzilopochtli exploded. The feeling overwhelmed me and I collapsed, but it was the first sleep I had gotten in days.
When I awoke my subjects gathered around me like leaves around a tree, telling me about strange events that had been occurring throughout the city. They said that in the farming district fire had fallen from the sky in the place of rain, burning huts and large maize fields. Strong winds carried the smoke plumes through the wide city streets, choking my citizens and staining buildings with soot. The fires cannot be vanquished despite the farmers’ best efforts; entire tracts of land have been ruined. Food may not be as plentiful this harvest season.
In the downtown markets there are reports of two-headed men, with fangs like daggers. One face is twisted with agony, the other is ecstatic with pleasure. The beasts are stark naked and their skin is blood red. Their muscles were the size and consistency of boulders. Their bloodshot eyes dart around their sockets looking for a victim. They run howling through the streets, attacking civilians and stealing from the merchants. They are blazingly quick and vanish before they can be caught. Merchants are now too afraid to set up shop, the beasts have driven the life out of the business district.
Lake Tenochtitlan, an enormous oasis in the center of the city, now boiled violently at all hours. Scores of dead fish were rising to the top of the lake, attracting vultures and other scavengers. The thousands of fishermen who depended on the lake were now without their livelihood and disheartened. As more and more of the water boiled off the canals to the remaining farms began to run dry. There will be a serious food shortage soon. I must visit with Chalchiuhtlicue at once, the goddess of beauty, farming and water.
Chalchiuhtlicue’s pyramid was wide and organic, with grass and vines growing down the sides. Waterfalls normally cascade through narrow openings on the pyramid face, but had curiously run dry. The very bricks that made up the pyramid were cracking beneath the weight of my feet; the vines had become shriveled and brown. This pyramid had decomposed rapidly.
The path to the sanctuary runs over 1000 cubits in length, leading to a large arboretum Chalchiuhtlicue calls home. Fitting, as Chalchiuhtlicue took the form of a tree. At twice the height of Huitzilopochtli and three times the girth, she was enormous. As always, bright sunlight shone through a circular skylight directly upon the goddess. Her array of roots were usually hidden in a deep blue pool, but today the water was dried up, revealing a knotted, decaying mess. Her multicolored leaves had turned sickly and brown. Large plump fruits from her branches had fallen down and rolled to the center of the pool. She turned to look at me and moaned.
“O Chalchiuhtlicue! Your great oases are dry. Your people are without food. There is this terrible ugly woman who said-“
“Montezuma, you coward! You are going to be the death of this city.”
“How could it be me? I do not know what is causing the drought, or the fires, or the wicked two headed beasts. I come to you asking for help! Please, Lord Chalchiuhtlicue!”
“They are omens that you have done nothing to prevent, you irresponsible, disrespectful fool. Omens – Quetzalcoatl will soon arrive.”
“Help us Chalchiuhtlicue!”
With a somber look on her face she closed her eyes. Cicadas and beetles flew in through the skylight and covered every surface of her body. Leaves and branches began falling off in large clumps. I ran out of the sanctuary right before Chalchiuhtlicue toppled over, the chirping of insects buzzed in my ears long after.
***
17 Augusto 1519
These people are not hostile. They have given me and my soldiers fresh food and soft beds to sleep. They are offering their finest women to my soldiers, a welcome relief for them. They have even offered their own soldiers to join my fleet. They asked me to conquer a city and its king on the other side of the bay, a place called Tenochtitlan. They promise me food, fame and fortune. I want Tenochtitlan.
***
I had never felt so scared. My people were rioting. We were running out of food and water. Quetzalcoatl is only seen on high holy days, but there is word that a feathered serpent has been flying around Tenochtitlan. The high priests and soothsayers took to the temple within my palace, praying for answers. My city had collapsed in a matter of weeks.
I left the city and found my way to the beach, my own sanctuary. I lay on the shore and looked out at the horizon. Far out there was a massive galleon. It came dancing across the water, followed by even more ships. I felt doomed.
***
19 Augusto 1519
Soon after making landfall we were approached by the ruler of Tenochtitlan – Montezuma. He was wearing a multicolored robe adorned with bells and gold chains. There were a dozen priests on either side of him. They held bags full of gold, silver and their native jewelry – all of it was very beautiful. I was hesitant at first, but with a group of my men I followed his lead into Tenochtitlan proper. Although it was in a state of disarray, it was like nothing I had ever seen – perfectly parallel roads, beautiful paintings and statues in town, thousands of homes, and massive pyramids that were visible from anywhere in the city. The people here have dark skin and skinny bodies, their clothing is barbaric and their skin is painted with tattoos. Nevertheless they seem civilized and intelligent, though not nearly as sophisticated as a Spaniard.
His palace was the largest and stood directly in the middle of the city. It must have taken a century to build by hand. It would dwarf the largest castles in Spain. There was ample room for my men and me to stay. We were treated like royalty and fed a wealth of indigenous foods. I imagine we will spend a few days here to rest and wait for Montezuma to let his guard down. He is making this too easy for us.
***
He spoke a tongue I have never heard. His clothes were covered in shiny metal plates. A large leather scabbard hung off his hip; the sword had a jewel encrusted handle. His helmet was also metal and adorned with feathers. Feathers – it must have been Quetzalcoatl – but he called himself Cortez. He stayed for five nights now, and the priests are preparing a service at Quetzalcoatl’s temple tonight. Something to appease him, and to protect us.
I would not be in attendance. My people had turned on me, called me traitor for allowing an angry god to live among us. I was afraid to leave the safety of my palace. Cortez had left me his own bodyguard to protect me from any vagrant that sneaks in. They would not think to attack Cortez, though. Their mask of respect hid a paralyzing fear.
When the ceremony was about to start I walked back out to my balcony, and I observed Quetzalcoatl’s pyramid. I heard a low rumbling get louder and louder. Cortez and over 100 men rode through Tenochtitlan on large fearsome creatures. They screamed a battle cry and rode towards the pyramid in straight formations, with wave after wave of his warriors following him. After riding his creatures up the stairs of the pyramid he rushed in with his sword and his men behind him. His bodyguard snuck up behind me, covered my eyes and tied my mouth shut.
***
24 Augusto 1519
In the sanctuary there were two dozen unarmed priests, adorned in tribal masks, chanting prayers to Quetzalcoatl. We did not have a single casualty on our side. I killed two of them on my own, and my soldiers made quick work of the others with their guns. By edict their warriors were allowed nowhere near this temple, making it that much easier for us. The few bravest commoners attacked us with dull swords and bows – they were dispatched quickly.
I returned to the palace and found the great King Montezuma tied at the ankles and wrists, blindfolded and gagged. Pathetic. I will force him to run a puppet government until reinforcements arrive from Spain. My soldiers here will defeat the warriors that remain. Any suspicious behavior by locals will be exterminated immediately. Extending my control to the rest of his empire will be slow, but for now I am in full control of Tenochtitlan.
***
Months later…
Cortez is more powerful than I imagined Quetzalcoatl could be. His weapons lay waste to my people. His mobility is enhanced by his large creatures capable of galloping faster than any man. His warriors are raping my women and killing my priests. Many of my people are being covered in terrible boils that kill them within weeks. Thousands have died during the months that he has controlled Tenochtitlan through me. I am ashamed and broken.
It has been torture for me. His guard takes liberties when beating me, and feeds me only scraps of food when he remembers to. I cannot speak to them, I cannot even look Cortez in the eye without a swift blow to my face. I have wasted away, inside and out. I no longer command authority here. The priests and pipiltin that survived spit at me. I have never felt so helpless in my life.
His reinforcements from across the sea have finally arrived. A messenger walks up and hands Cortez a piece of paper. He is sitting in my throne – I am relegated to pedestal in the corner of the room. He reads the paper and slowly rises up from the chair. He turns and looks at me, and laughs with his mouth wide open. Before my eyes his teeth become long and pointed. His skin turns scaly and large feathery wings erupt from his back. His cold brown eyes turn red and the pupil becomes a thin vertical slit. Quetzalcoatl, the winged serpent has revealed himself to me. The god of wind, knowledge, life and death, standing there in the flesh. Reaching down to his hip with his serpentine arm he draws his sword and lunges at me. Cortez, Cortez…
My car has miraculously come back to life, so I’ve been driving around with the old, burned CDs I made throughout high school and college. I popped in the Red Hot Chili Peppers’ Californication late tonight and was overcome with nostalgia, manifest as chills and goosebumps. Though it was a pretty drastic change from their earlier work, it’s going to go down as a seminal piece of American rock music, and one of their best albums ever. This is stuff I’ll be sharing with my kids and grandkids. Or, they’ll buy RHCP shirts at Kohl’s without knowing who the hell these guys were. But I digress, hearing it reminded me of this awesome music video:
The song “Californication” had just about the coolest music video ever (n.b. – I was probably 10 when I first saw it). I didn’t even like music too much at that age (all my knowledge of music came from my cousins, and that TV channel “The Box”), but the video was just really fucking cool. First of all, it was all futuristic and computer generated – it looked like it could be a new game for the Sega Dreamcast (which was also brand new when I first heard this). There were (apparently) rock stars, which my cousins had to inform me of later, and they played cool instruments and didn’t wear their shirts – how cool!
Anthony swam underwater and punched sharks – then he drove a sweet ass-car around the city all Crazy Taxi-style. Flea escaped from bears and rednecks and climbed a big ass-tree. John was too busy recovering from his heroin addiction and stuff to do anything really exciting, but he ran around LA and jumped through a giant doughnut as the city collapsed in an earthquake. And Chad went motherfucking snowboarding – then he boarded down a goddamn bridge – how the fuck do you do that? That’s so fucking radical.
As a 10 year old, that video was the crux of cool. Maybe that’s why 12 years later (boy does that make me feel old) I’m still drawn to this music and that video. Sure it didn’t age well, but at the time it was on the cutting edge of popular music and media. It identified an epoch of mass information, digital effects and a seismic shift in musical styles. In a more abstract sense, these musicians became artificial, interactive, electronic avatars of themselves – a telling sign of the era that had just begun. The video is resolved when this digital world comes apart at the seams, and these people are freed from their digital incarnations and their flesh-and-bone bodies are restored. If only it was that easy to escape from our electronic alter-egos, and nonchalantly laugh it off with our friends. If only…
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, withJunebug 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.
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.
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!
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.
govinbhai 