19 February 2011

someday...

I'll have something valuable to say again, but until then: Josh Ritter & the Royal City Band @ Liberty Hall in Lawrence.  Hands down one of the best shows I've ever seen, which got me to thinking.  I've seen a lot of shows--starting with hair metal bands when I was thirteen through fifteenish.

These are ten that stand out.  I don't know if they are the top ten, there are a lot of great shows that aren't on here--including tonight's--but these are the ten that stand out right now.

10.  REM & Sonic Youth @ Sandstone, 1995

Sure, it was the Monster Tour which meant it wasn't their best stuff, and Sonic Youth's insistence that feedback and music are the same thing makes me want to puke, but it's REM.  Come on.

9. Duran Duran somewhere in Tampa, FL, 1997

I sold cd's to have the money to go to this show.  I was dying to see them, I was 21, my boyfriend at the time was 28, and I bought the tickets as a birthday gift.  He flipped out.  The show was in support of that weird record they released in 97 or 98.  They looked and sounded great, but the 30+ crowd sitting through View to a Kill while I stood and rocked out left a little to be desired.

8.  Regina Spektor @ The Uptown Theatre in KC, 2008

I hadn't heard a lot of her music when a friend took me to see her.  She blew me away.  I thought she might be some sort of kitschy pop tart, but her talent was evident the minute she stepped on stage--mesmerizing, quiet, funny, stunning.

7. The Avett Brothers & The Low Anthem @ The Missouri Theatre in Columbia, 2010

Both bands gave incredible performances.  I'd only heard 'Oh My God Charlie Darwin,' TLA's second (?) record, but it did not prepare me for the beauty of seeing them live.  And, if you've ever seen TAB, you know they can't be missed.

6. Juliana Hatfield @ The Bottleneck, 1995

I was 19, a sophomore in college only in the sense that I was enrolled at KU for the second year, and I love love loved her.  I went with some friends from high school--one of whom's older boyfriend snuck us Rolling Rocks all through the show--and at one point Juliana started to sing "Make It Home," a song that still haunts me.  Her male bandmates walked up to the other mic and one by one said, "I love my vagina."  She got so pissed she stormed off stage and had to be coaxed into returning thirty odd minutes later.

5.  Counting Crows, Live, Galactica, & Blonde Redhead @ Sandstone, 2000

This was a weird tour.  Galactica always opened--and they were awesome--Live and CC traded off who did the first hour or so and who did the second.  I am not really a Live fan, but they were pretty good.  The reason this song makes the list however--besides the Ed Kowalczyk/Adam Duritz cover of TLC's "No Scrubs"--is the nearly ten minute breakdown in the middle of "Round Here" during which Adam came down to the front of the stage and launched into part of "Private Archipelago."  Un. Real.

4.  Ani DiFranco @ the Lied Center, 1998

4th row tickets, it rained so much that night that my car almost flooded out in the parking lot.  I lived up the street from the Lied at the time, so we didn't really have far to go, but it took us forever, and we were soaked when we got inside.  The show was a benefit for the Free Leonard Peltier Foundation, and at one point Ani walked over and yelled at these four girls who were being totally obnoxious--talking through her set.  I loved her in that moment, not afraid to stop playing and call people out for being rude.  And when she played "Pulse" I was transfixed.  Which, incidentally, contains one of my favorite lyrics ever,

"i realized that night that the hall light 
which seemed so bright when you turned it on is nothing
compared to the dawn
which is nothing, compared to the light 
which seeps from me while you're sleeping")


3.  Tori Amos @ the Lied Center, 1994

This was the first concert I ever went to by myself, and it was totally worth it.  I remember what I was wearing, I remember walking across the bridge from Hashinger Hall to the Lied, ticket in hand, looking up at the September sky and thinking I was really doing something grown up--seeing a show alone, unafraid to do that.  It made me feel powerful.  And when she played "Me & a Gun" the whole room went silent.  I haven't been to a show since when the crowd has been so totally mesmerized.  It was like a spell had fallen over the room.

2. Lyle Lovett @ The Steifel Theatre, 2009

I went to this show with my mom and we had a ball.  She bought the tickets for my birthday, we got dressed up, had dinner before.  It's not something mom and I do often.  We talk all the time and laugh and shop and love each other like crazy, but we don't have mother daughter dates like this much.  Time and opportunity get in our way, but this night was amazing.  The show was fabulous--you simply cannot ever go wrong with Lyle Lovett.  Ever.  But it was so hot in the theatre that at one point mom and I looked at each other and started laughing about which articles of clothing we could legally remove.  Afterwards we went to Dairy Queen and got blizzards--a favorite family past time--and circled back to watch the band load in.  We saw Francine, a backup singer who has been with Lyle for years, standing out by the buses in her nice stage shirt, a button up denim shirt over it, shorts and flip flops.  And she was smoking.  As my mother would say, "we like to died!"

1.  Mumford & Sons, the Mynabirds, & Albatross @ the Record Bar, KC 2010

The two opening acts really surprised me, I knew nothing about them and found them both to be engaging and energetic.  The Mynabirds, a sort of throwback folk/soul act out of Omaha had this really strange dynamic happening with the lead singer--a thin knockout blonde--and the only other girl in the band, a dark haired, heavier backup singer.  It was stated several times that she'd written the songs, but her voice wasn't particularly compelling and she and the blonde kept shooting 'you know you're only here because you have to be' looks at each other all through their set.

And then there was Mumford.  Ah, Mumford.  I owe my love of them to the guys I work with.  True music hounds, that lot, and they introduced to a band that I have recommended often enough to be making residuals.  They were sweet and silly and surprised at how small the venue was, it was the last night of their first North American tour and it was the smallest place they played in, which means we got the most intimate and best show of the whole tour.  No one who was there will argue that it was anything less than spectacular.  The friend I went with--who actually attended 6 of these 10 concerts with me--has said several times that he could see that show every single night for the rest of his life and never be disappointed.  I couldn't agree more.


08 February 2011

Rolling in the Deep

There aren't words for how incredible this is. Song, voice, video...wow.

01 February 2011

Returns

Spun sugar wind whirls beyond my windows, the air out there peppered by a whiteness that begs describing.  Constant sheets of white blow in this blizzard they've said is upon us, above my fence the sky and the falling flakes are interchangeable, a mutable flurry of furious wind and weather.  But, here on this side of the cedar slats, spinning slow motion down onto my patio table, I can see them one by one, snowflakes that separate from the pack, a dancing dervish of downward motion.

I suffer the curse of the forest for the trees often, but my problem is the reverse: so caught up in the dense vegetation of all that confronts me, I miss the single sweet moments which comprise that density.  I wander in the forest seeing only green, only a canopied sky made invisible by overlapping branches, obscuring any view of the world beyond their reach.

Today, this whiteness wants to teach me something, and I am trying to be quiet enough to hear the lesson in the lighting.  I know what it is to be lost in the thick, to feel a forever pressure to be more, to be better, to be, simply, enough.  I know how to plaster on a smile and sing through the sadness, I know which face to carry so that everyone else sees the me they think they know.  But all that plaster and song, carrying and falsehood, only leads to an exhaustion that breeds a destructive disconnection from self.  So, on this hazy gray day that blurs the branches of the tree line, I am trying to step back.  Trying to let myself see what one reaching tree can be on its own, apart from the copse, singular and lovely as the one small flake I watch whisper its way to ground, seeking soft landing, knowing its cold journey lasts only until the sun--inevitably--returns.