Getting one step closer to being caught up? Shit, it's a long road. It's a good thing I take notes! This post covers all things not Sasquatch (the music festival). The first show on the list was John Vanderslice at Mississippi Studios. I walked into the middle of the Mimicking Birds set. It was whispery folk/non-folk/post-folk minor-key sometimes-arhythmic stuff. I kinda liked it. I could imagine listening to it late at night with a crowd of friends, if I were the sort of person who sat around in a darkened living room late at night with a crowd of friends. It had a bit of the Nick-Drake-Volkswagen-commercial vibe--not that it sounded like that, it just had that feel. Once, as the band got started slowly into a song, someone in the back of the club started clapping far, far off the rhythm, and the lead singer looked out into the audience with an air of fear. There was an oddly Paul Simon bit in there somewhere, and some stuff that sounded like My Morning Jacket but without Jim James. JV was up next. He did some new stuff, including one that was startling in its intensity. I mean, even compared to most of his stuff. And many of his songs have this disturbing, almost dangerous quality to them. One of the things I love about Vanderslice. though, is how quickly his songs become familiar, even though they're odd and complex. I left humming Too Much Time, and bought the new album on my way out. Vanderslice loves his fans, and loves Portland. The stage banter is almost the best part. It's kind of fascinating watching him convince the audience to give him things. This time it was a flashlight, to light the dark part of the stage where his keyboardist was sitting. He tossed it up to someone in the balcony who carefully trained it on the dark corner. He talked, like he does every time he's here, about how much he wants to move to Portland. "I moved to San Francisco to be with a girlfriend. I should have just kept going up I-5." (someone in the audience:) "You can find a Portland girlfriend!" (JV:) "Yeah, I'm sure my wife would love that!" Later on: "Do we have a set list?" (someone in the audience:) "I took it." (JV:) "Oh, okay, can you read me what's next?" Several times, he started a song, then stopped. "I fucked that up...can we start over?" It's like hanging out with the guy. But it's kind of uncomfortable when the audience treats it as such, shouting out between songs faux-personal connections about that one time I talked to you at that show in that one city, do you remember? I don't really want to be associated with those folks, the ones called home by his stories of mental illness and desperation. I just want to revel in the complicated storytelling and the intensity of the guitar, broken up by goofball self-effacement and playful interaction between songs.
Sasquatch came next, sequentially. Three days of three music stages (sometimes four) out in the baking sun of the Eastern Washington high desert. That gets a post all to itself--maybe two.
I've actually lost track of the sequence of all the other non-Sasquatch shows! I will randomly pull notes out of the pile next to me on the couch. And the winner is....Bazillionaire! At Langano Lounge, which is the basement of an Ethiopian restaurant. This is the new-er-ish band of Jesse, who used to be in Point Juncture, WA. Jesse may be one of the nicest people I've ever met. I once gave him someone else's Oreos, because he's just so nice you can't help but do things like that. I was so relieved that the band was really likeable. I'd hate to dislike the music of someone so damn nice. As they launched into their set, I thought, "It's kinda like Nada Surf, but loud, messy, live-sounding, and awesome." Jesse: "That's the one that sounds like Nada Surf." I heard a bunch of other good '90s stuff in Bazillionaire: The Promise Ring, various Apartment Music bands. Great '90s indie echoes seem to be the theme for Langano Lounge (...she pronounces definitively after being there twice). They had a viola player that apparently drove up from Southern Oregon somewhere and rehearsed with them for a night. The bassist is reportedly the new bassist for Swim Swam Swum, which is odd beyond belief. SSS is music for pogo-ing wildly to, bouncy punk-pop joy. The bassist stood statue-like and still, her back to the audience, watching her fingers. In SSS, she will look like she's in slow motion. Maybe she'll run in terror from the stage.
Next drawn out of the hat is the PDX Pop Now! 2009 CD release party! This year, I was prepared for (and resigned to) the uncomfortable setup that is Holocene as an all-ages venue. Nice gesture, poor design. The avid drinkers among us (show of hands? my hand's up...) are kind of ghettoized to what ends up feeling like a little catwalk next to the bar. But the emcee for the night was adorably gorgeous in a tuxedo (hi Seth!). Anyhow, The Taxpayers started out. They had kind of a Jared Mees vibe, with bits of Irish punk, a moment of klezmer, and a good dose of garage rock. And some accordion. Is there such a thing as accordion punk? They apparently told long, rambling stories and jokes, but I couldn't hear any of that. Next up, What's Up? This was all instrumental. I have little patience for all-instrumental stuff. But they managed to hold my interest admirably. Three guys playing their set in the middle of the crowd, with keyboards, bass, and either drums or guitar. It was math-rock-y but fun, not I'm-smarter-than-you mean-spirited. I tried (and mostly failed) to take some cool pictures of the set. Jared Mees and the Grown Children were up next. I found it a bit unfortunate that they were on a bill with The Taxpayers, who sorta stole their shtick. Bouncy twang-craziness that you can't help but love. The boyfriend asked him about the song The Tallest Building In Hell. Is it about a relationship gone painfully and irrevocably sour, or is it about stressful and difficult times ultimately resolved? I was on the side of the lyric, "patience pays off...eventually." I seem to have won that one. Copy was up last. I took a few pictures of the keytar, then crashed, losing all ability to make sense of what was going on. I'm pretty sure I helped with clean up, then...was there Potato Champion? I have a vague memory of The Carts that may or may not have been from that night.
Finally, I went to this show at A Roadside Attraction for one reason and one reason only. I came across info on this band called What Hearts, and there was apparently a band member with the same name as a pretty good friend of mine from high school with whom I had lost contact years ago. What's the chance it could be the same person? Someone highly Nordic from suburban Minneapolis? What Hearts was what could, either uber-charmingly or cliche-dly be called 'old-timey music.' It was whispery, twangy, and ultimately beautifully lacking in novelty. I was entranced. It did end up being that high school friend of mine, and it was both mundane and profound to make such an old connection and have it feel both familiar and unexpected/distant/nostalgic. They were followed by an act led by a female musician with a stellar if a bit decorative and romantic-pop voice, who played some piano and then a bit of...accordion? Wait just a minute. With hair like that, and that nose...it's Ali Ippolito! She continues to be a remarkable musician whose musical tastes I just don't always jibe with. Angry accordion solo (yes!) into sexy-piano-pop-blues like Fiona Apple (no! Go back!).
But wait, there's more! Just not right this second. Sasquatch still to come. Lots and lots of Sasquatch.
No comments:
Post a Comment