“However, this was one of those shows that blows you quite away and I felt privileged to have gotten to witness it.”
Saturday, January 23, 2010, I went alone to a Brooklyn Vegan/The Bowery Presents benefit show for Haiti at Music Hall of Williamsburg (formerly NorthSix). The audience contained a large portion of infuriating idiots, more so than usual, as frequently happens when “celebrities” are performing (well, Janeane Garofalo and Zach Galifianakis). However, this was one of those shows that blows you quite away and I felt privileged to have gotten to witness it.
Because I am an idiot (I forgot the show was that night), I got there too late to see Britt Daniel of Spoon play his three songs (BD and/or Spoon has played 3-4 different places all over New York and Brooklyn recently and I have managed to miss each appearance. (I did shell out for a ticket to the Spoon show at Radio City Music Hall in March because I saw Björk play there 10 years ago and the acoustics are so amazing it sounded like she was standing in front of us.)
Oh well. Here is Britt Daniel playing “Who Makes Your Money”:
So I missed the frontman for one of my favorite bands, and it does not matter an iota because I got to see St. Vincent and Justin Vernon (Bon Iver) play and then I got to see them play together (Songer Singwriter – consisting of Annie, Justin, a drummer and Brad from Megafaun). Another honor was the surprise guest, Shara Worden (My Brightest Diamond), who sang this amazingly gorgeous song whose name I do not know. Her voice and delivery just blew everything else out of the water. She also did a Prince cover, which was wonderful. Had I known anything about her before Saturday, I would have gone to the show she had played the previous night at Bowery Ballroom.
Here is Justin Vernon performing one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen live:
Unexpectedly, for a bunch of delicate-sounding musicians, Songer Singwriter devolved into really balls-out noise (or evolved, depending on how one feels about noise), I mean, a crashing, borderline painful cacophony, particularly at the conclusion of “Jolene”, of which I do not have video.
Songer Singwriter cover Neil Young’s “Harvest Moon”:
And here is a partial clip of Songer Singwriter performing a jawdropping cover of Dolly Parton’s “Jolene”:
Unrelated to the show, but having everything to do with Bon Iver, as part of another amazing evening with my friend, Kate M., she introduced me to La Blogotheque, which is run by people who invite musicians to play tiny, intimate shows in France. This is an a cappella version of “For Emma” sung in the hallway of an apartment building in Paris. Love the bewildered residents who came home to find Bon Iver. And, of course, the dog.
[Incidentally, Kate does not know this yet but she consistently introduces me to music that makes me think "This is why life is worth living." Not just the fantastic music itself, but the joy in discovering it exists out there in the world. Thank you, Kate, for also being out there in world.]
And I will leave you with a lovely, heartbreaking rendition of “Skinny Love”, also courtesy of La Blogotheque. Look at those joyous Frenchies who got to sit in a room the size of a closet and drink wine and sing along with this:
AIDS Wolf
(Animal Collective)
Angry vs. The Bear
An Horse
Apes & Androids
Arctic Monkeys
Atomic Kitten
Band of Horses
(Bat for Lashes)
Bear Hands
Bear in Heaven
Bear vs. Shark
(Be Your Own Pet)
Birdmonster
Birds of Tokyo
Birds of Wales
Black Horse
Black Joe Lewis and the Honey Bears
Bloody Panda
Breathe Owl Breathe Continue reading Animal Band Names…
“Stephen Merritt was obviously high or was just his usual high-seeming, random self.”
Stephen Merritt (far right) telling you that someday your dog or cat will die. I could see the band much better than my crappy cell phone lens could.
I bought two tickets in August to see Magnetic Fields play at Landmark Loew’s Theatre in New Jersey on Thursday, October 23rd. Landmark Loew’s is a gorgeous, cathedral-like movie theatre across the street from the PATH Journal Square Station. Then, the day of the show, the person with whom I was going fell ill. Literally fell. Unconscious. On the subway. (He’s okay now.)
I posted an ad on CL, FB, MySpace and sent emails asking if anyone wanted to buy my extra ticket. No cigar. Then I thought maybe I could sell the ticket at the show. Yes, it was me and eight other people out front trying to offload tickets, including a surprisingly bitter scalper. Part of the problem: Jersey. Other part of the problem: assigned seating. Result: show not sold out. Due to recent good luck with opening bands, I have been trying to go to shows on-time, so ten to 8 I went inside, ticket unsold.
The show was awesome. Stephen Merritt was obviously high or was just his usual high-seeming, random self. No, he was undeniably high after the intermission. He and Claudia had this odd banter like he was a crotchety, old man merry prankster and she was his exasperated, long-time companion, half humoring him, half laughing with him, half wanting him to shut it. Wait, that’s too many halves. She sang a lot of the songs he sang on the albums. But he sang, too. The vibe of the show was very low-key. I overheard a woman outside saying that she almost fell asleep at one part, but really they had just played some really delicately beautiful songs. You sometimes forget, with the funny lyrics and romping music, how gorgeous and deeply sad his songs can be.
It happened that there were two empty seats next to me, the seat for which I had the ticket and the one next to it. On my right was a very nice lady and her fellow. So, I piled my scarf, hoodie, coat and purse onto the seat next to me, and ended up sitting half yoga style with my left knee on the empty seat and leaning on the armrest.
At some point during the intermission, a woman behind me asked if anyone was sitting next to me, and because in times of inattention I can be oddly literal and oddly honest, I said, “No.” thinking they wanted to put their coats on the seats or on the backs of the seats, which one of them had already done and it was quite fine with me. However, I overheard her excitedly telling her friends on her cell phone that there were seats open in front of her and they should come on down.
Okay, here’s the thing. I do not want to be a selfish bitch. Nor do I want to cause trouble. But it is one thing to be made slightly uncomfortable by people sitting next to you in close proximity, such as in a movie theatre. It is quite another to pay $42 for the privilege. I did not want to stuff my purse under my seat, nor hold my coat, hoodie and scarf on my lap, nor sit on them. I did not want have to sit pressed between two other people. The way I saw it was, I had paid extra so my purse, coat, scarf, hoodie, left knee and left elbow would have a nice place to sit. I would like to think, too, that the woman to my right was more comfortable due to me leaning on my armrest and leaving the other for her exclusive use.
So, I turned around and told the woman that actually, I had paid for this seat, so only the other seat was free. She had this frozen smile on her face and I overheard her saying on her cell phone that she guessed she was mistaken because the seats were not open. Then after the show started again, I heard a lot of whispering, which may or may not have been related to me. But really, I had paid an extra $42 so I should be comfortable. Right?
Was I wrong? Am I a total bitch? My elbow and knee do not think so. I am inclined to agree with them.
“This dick in front of me…accused JH of making him miss his dinner.”
The Hodg reads from his new book, More Information Than You Require
10:35pm Paul
somebody got contacts today
and that somebody is me
haircut tomorrow
i’ll be like a new man
10:36pm Cari
Woo!
Sexy time for the Paul!
How short are you going or what style?
10:36pm Paul
pretty short
but it’ll just look like when i got here
10:36pm Cari
I think I’m an alcoholic because this week, I feel like I really need alcohol.
Like if I don’t get some at night I want to curl up into a ball and cease myself.
Also, the cigs don’t help.
I never saw you when you got here.
I met John Hodgman tonight.
10:37pm Paul
[snipped]
oh nice
10:38pm Cari
I couldn’t afford his book but now I think I should have made him sign my address book or something.
Then it turns out my friend, with whom I did not stand in line, totally is like his drinking buddy and they all chatted for like 15 minutes.
Now I’m thinking I should have gone back up there and partaken.
Tonight has been very regretful for me…i.e. full of regrets.
I just feel all outside of everything.
And a black hole of what not to do.
Sorry to vent.
10:40pm Paul
s’okay
10:40pm Cari
It’s like we met for a nice chat and I just vomited my angst all over your nice new xmas sweater.
10:40pm Paul
i never liked this sweater
even though it’s new
10:40pm Cari
Well, you can still give it to a homeless person.
He or she won’t mind.
Might not even notice.
Now it’s like I vomited all over the homeless.
10:42pm Paul
way to go, cari
it’s not a big deal
it’s just john hodgeman
you’ll meet better celebrities than that
[snipped]
10:45pm Cari
[snipped]
it’s not the celebrity, it’s that he’s really funny, and nice and I like him.
And I have nothing funny or original to offer spur of the moment.
If I could write him an email, maybe something would surprise me.
But you can’t send emails at book signings.
10:49pm Paul
right
most people don’t do well in those situations
so don’t beat yourself up
10:50pm Cari
I just don’t want to be one of those assholes who asks what their favorite cereal is.
Or this dick in front of me who accused JH of making him miss his dinner.
And JH was pretty gracious all things considered, and said he’d come from a taping (The Daily Show) so he hadn’t eaten dinner either, and did that guy want to stay and sign all these people’s books so JH could go eat a steak?
Hahaha, that was awesome.
It wouldn’t have mattered if I hadn’t been feeling so unmoored this week.
I don’t listen to the radio or watch MTV or really follow what is popular in mainstream music…certainly not in adult contemporary.
So, I am waiting in line at the bank only half listening to the music they were playing.
First, it was
Then:
All fairly par for the bank music playing course. But then, surprisingly (for me):
[Of course, they played a shortened version because you know, Stairway to Heaven it's not...never mind that the full-length song has a nice build to it.]
There had been hints here and there that this song had gained some popularity, but I’d not paid much attention: a person whom I would not expect to know who Death Cab for Cutie was, did, and also I thought I saw “I Will Possess Your Heart” on that stupid video screen in the elevator but it flashed so quickly, I knew not what I had seen.
“Now they suck and don’t play enough older songs….”
Modest Mouse is playing a secret show tonight at 1 AM at Music Hall of Williamsburg, a.k.a. North Six. Doors are at 1 AM and show starts at 1:30 AM.
$20 no-fee tickets are available at Ticketmaster.com
Prior to “We Were Dead….”, I 100% would have gone. But now they suck and don’t play enough older songs to warrant attendance.
However, if they hopped on the “play an album in its entirety” bandwagon and opted to play (my all-time favorite) This Is a Long Drive for Someone with Nothing to Think About, or Lonesome Crowded West, or Building Nothing Out of Something, or even The Moon and Antarctica, I would be in line right now instead of typing this.
There’s so much amazing music happening this summer. Thank Jeebus! Here’s a list of free shows happening in New York City. Not listed are kick-ass shows of the unfree variety, to wit, Spoon and Built to Spill.
Of the free shows, I want to see: Sonic Youth w/ The Feelies, The Breeders, Fiery Furnaces, Liars w/ Fuck Buttons, Feist, Blonde Redhead, Battles w/ Black Dice and Gang Gang Dance, Santogold and Aesop Rock.
I’m sorry. I know I’ve said this before but I feel compelled to say it again thanks to the movie’s media blitz. There are people I know and love who like this show, and I tried to like it but can’t. I’ve probably watched 10-12 episodes and while the show has its moments, and Samantha’s pretty cool, on the whole this is a quartet of astoundingly irritating people who somewhat embody what I hate most about New York.
And if I ever met “Carrie Bradshaw” in real life, I swear to God I would punch her in the face.
is so you can publicly declare your love and your subsequent break-up on Facebook, complete with whole and broken heart icons. No need to talk to friends anymore. And if you’re anything like me, you’re going to blog about it anyway. [Oh, and the other reason is a hopefully constant source of sex.]
We should walk around with icons like that floating above our heads or pinned to our shirts. Like Walken wagging his tail when he’s angry, you’d always know where someone’s head was at. Of course, it might be a little awkward say, coming home to your spouse with a shiny new heart icon above you. Or a broken heart. I’m pretty sure if people were that transparent, everyone would just stop getting married. Or perhaps not.
I want to say something pithy and clever and semi-ironic about love’s doomed optimism, but I just can’t. For some reason it hurts my heart to make fun of it.
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