I listen to music I like. I often read liner notes at least once and attend shows like a fiend. But I am not a fan girl. I rarely know the names of individual performers and nine times out of ten the first time I see them (what they look like at all) is when they step on stage before me. I’ve seen an image or two of Radiohead—glossy magazine shots and videos in passing—but I was not prepared for such a collective vibrant presence or the schizophrenic freakboy that is Thom Yorke.
What an odd man; my midwestern mother would call him a “strange bird.” A “strange bird” but a “good egg,” and damn, what a performer, the whole lot of ’em, wildly entertaining at their August 23 date at Alpine Valley in East Troy, Wisconsin, visually holy sh!t even from several hundred yards away (no lie—our lawn standing slots were wretched… but hell, it was still Radiohead). They sounded phenomenal, both sound-system-wise and “check us out, we’re musical freaking geniuses”-wise. I cried. Thrice. One of ’em was more like bawling.
It’d be impossible for Radiohead to have a disappointing setlist, but there were a few does-nothing-for-me numbers that had me mering. They did, however, play the personal-way-up-there but never-expected “Gloaming,” which is one weird song, and I’m not sure why I like it or even if “like” is the appropriate verb. It’s one of those put-on-repeat-and-go-to-strange-places songs. It doesn’t have meaning, just puts you in the mood to make your own.
And not to be predictable or boring, but another great surprise was “We Suck Young Blood.” With me it’s always been a grin that can’t decide, sheepish? or mischievous? the song too silly to give it credence beyond the kitsch. But with over 30 thousand people joining in on the off cadence *clap!*, with the strained and warbling harmonization infecting so wicked evil, with Thom doing death to the ivory with a vicious, primal nature… uuuuuugh. Unreal.
I have only one band remaining on my must-see-before-I-die list. And that’s scary. I’m not ready. I do really like the Mars Volta… maybe I should add them for security, because…
“Mars Volta and AFI… FIGHT!”
Said Street Fighter style, of course. The jaw-droppin’ Mars Volta will be in Minneapolis October 10, the same night that AFI play a show in Fargo. I’ve seen MV exactly never and AFI so many times I can’t remember (seven? perhaps?). I was ecstatic for both then just about stabbed myself when I realized they conflict. Dammit.
Given the required drive for and my long history with AFI, Mars Volta would seem the natural choice this time… but. I want to bring my West Fargo bound little bro Joe to a concert, and what better first show than AFI? (We older sibs, forced to babysit, would occasionally drag him to local obnoxious and infamous affairs when he was a preschooler, but that doesn’t count. And don’t tell my mom.)
True, AFI will be fantastic in such a small setting, but this isn’t about the band—I love the boys, dearly, do, but this is about Fargo. This is about family. This is about the cultural transmission of music-centered social interaction. For instance: If someone falls down, you pick them up. If someone gets down, you 1). give them room, 2). nod complimentarily, 3). narrow your eyes, tilt your head, step in, and finally 4). battle them until they cry. Joe has a lot to learn—and who better to teach him?
I’m not sure if this is go, though; I unveiled my plot over the phone, and the boy got shy! He’s hesitating! He said all teenage cocky yet with an unmistakable stammer, “But… there’ll be twenty-year-olds there!” Sure, Joe’s only thirteen, but the kid’s 5’10” and 150 lbs; he doesn’t have to worry. Furthermore, though he’s as big as me and could probably destroy me, he’s still my baby brother and those who give him bother will crack their skulls on the cement after slipping in the blood I punch out of their faces.
And… *sniff*… the Mars Volta will be back. …Right? Right.
In other live show news, Mark Desrosiers tells me Blood Brothers are coming to town September 10 at the Triple Rock in Minneapolis. Now maybe I can break my finger for real (yeah, it’s still not quite right… nearly a month later :\ ).
At my proofreading job I was presented with a 15th Edition Chicago Manual of Style, the most significantly revised version in 25 years, embracing information age innovations like everybody’s business, ’cause it is. They use a gothic header font! and a sans serif for examples! and there’s parenthetical notes in blue-gray type! I just about messed myself. I read it for fun. And since I’m confessing to ultimate dorkdom, right now I’m listening to Crowded House and I’m not ashamed at all.
Site News: Markh writes in the guestbook that he likes green. I like green, too, but the new header looked terrible with the old background, thus the change to black. The green’ll be back, though, I promise. On an equally honest swearing, the new banner wasn’t color-skewed; the shutter was delayed in an outdoor nighttime mode, but how and why I look so zombiedead is a mystery, truly, what the camera is telling me it sees when I posture plain.
Speaking of zombies, I tentatively plan to be Jim from 28 Days Later for Halloween (…yeah, I’ve already started planning…), but I don’t want to shave my head. I would be the hospital scrubbed, wandering aimlessly with a plastic sack of Pepsi® , deeply confused and disoriented screaming “Hellloooooo!” at the top of my voice Jim, and thus would require a stitched up head wound with half a shaved scalp.
I suppose I could be an Infected. I’m really good at puking blood in people’s faces. But I think that’d get tired real fast. If anyone has any ideas on how to simulate a buzz-cut, let me know.
Be advised, due to my moving this weekend and a subsequent hookup lag, I can’t say when d6 will next be updated, and my online presence as a whole will suffer. It’ll probably be good for us all. I’ll still check my (deepsicks@juno.com) email at work, just don’t expect any epic replies. In the meantime, take care. To whom it applies, enjoy your new classes. For those it doesn’t, keep learning, positive, creative, and not dead.
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