Sinking sand, took my hand, raised me up...
If you weren't there last night, you did miss something. Here comes Kristen and my sister Theresa, who hasn't been out alone without her son since he was born (two years) and I, waddling into the theater, tired, wary, and feeling a bit awkward. I moreso than anyone. I felt old. Too old to be going out to a concert of a band I used to worship in High School. The crowd was mixed. I noticed there were a lot of too old people there. We bought beers and made our way into the thin crowds meandering around the mainfloor of the theater. The opening act was already on when we entered the house. I can't remember their name(s), but their sound made me feel even more wary...
The opening duo's set was a drag compared to what was to come, and it seemed to go on forever. Normally I don't mind the folksy folks singing and strummin loveydovey mush, in fact I rather like it. But last night I sat on the floor of the rialto holding my beer between my knees and trying hard not to fall asleep. We waited a long time. Went out for a cigarette, bought another beer, wielded our way back to the front of the crowds, and waited some more. In retrospect, it was good they had such a mellow opening act, because I had no idea how the old femmes were about to make me move. The floor filled up, people began to fit tighter and tighter and started to whistle and scream and chant. As we all waited for the Femmes to finally come out on stage the energy just kept building until people were almost at the point of surrender. It wasn't going to happen, or was it? I think people started to doubt. Finally, at 9:15 the lights go down and here come the femmes, running onto the stage and grabbing up their instruments. I stood up and did not stop moving my body, hard, for the next two hours.
I would say that it was one of the top five concerts I've ever been to. I haven't enjoyed the live music experience, unless its classical symphony, or at a bar in the background, or a hippie-type banjoing his heart out on the Avenue at 1 a.m., in a long time. Grateful Dead 88 (or 87 I can't remember) in Phoenix --first LSD and hippie parkinglot madness--; Dozens of Major Lingo shows in the late 80's in Jerome, Flagstaff and in the old armory in Prescott; Bruce Springsteen in 84? Born in the U.S.A. tour in Phoenix; Laurie Anderson's Strange Angels tour Phoenix and Moby Dick show in L.A.; Meat Puppets 86 Phoenix.
The three best songs they played last night were Jesus Walkin' on the Water, which was so evengelical church in the Ozarks I almost cried--Gano on the violin and Brian Ritchie (sorry but he can be arrogant if he wants to)--Gone Daddy Gone (Brian Ritchie on that xylophone was amaaaazing), and Gimmee the Car--where they totally played their hearts out and just jammed for a long time. Of course they played Add it Up and Kiss Off and Blister in the Sun too, but those were just the crowd pleasers (appeasers). I was amazed they played so hard so clear and so energetically, for such old guys. I mean, they aren't really old, but they are older than me. I started listening to them when I was 16, which is two years after they started being a band at all.
From the VF site: "The Grandfathers of Folk-Punk. Rock's dadaist improvisors. Calcified fossils of teen angst. American roots minimalists. The sonic personification of anxiety. Blues cubists. Spokesmen for misfits. These are just a few of the phrases that come to mind upon thinking of the Femmes." Yeah, kiss off into the air, I DID buy a t-shirt.
The opening duo's set was a drag compared to what was to come, and it seemed to go on forever. Normally I don't mind the folksy folks singing and strummin loveydovey mush, in fact I rather like it. But last night I sat on the floor of the rialto holding my beer between my knees and trying hard not to fall asleep. We waited a long time. Went out for a cigarette, bought another beer, wielded our way back to the front of the crowds, and waited some more. In retrospect, it was good they had such a mellow opening act, because I had no idea how the old femmes were about to make me move. The floor filled up, people began to fit tighter and tighter and started to whistle and scream and chant. As we all waited for the Femmes to finally come out on stage the energy just kept building until people were almost at the point of surrender. It wasn't going to happen, or was it? I think people started to doubt. Finally, at 9:15 the lights go down and here come the femmes, running onto the stage and grabbing up their instruments. I stood up and did not stop moving my body, hard, for the next two hours.
I would say that it was one of the top five concerts I've ever been to. I haven't enjoyed the live music experience, unless its classical symphony, or at a bar in the background, or a hippie-type banjoing his heart out on the Avenue at 1 a.m., in a long time. Grateful Dead 88 (or 87 I can't remember) in Phoenix --first LSD and hippie parkinglot madness--; Dozens of Major Lingo shows in the late 80's in Jerome, Flagstaff and in the old armory in Prescott; Bruce Springsteen in 84? Born in the U.S.A. tour in Phoenix; Laurie Anderson's Strange Angels tour Phoenix and Moby Dick show in L.A.; Meat Puppets 86 Phoenix.
The three best songs they played last night were Jesus Walkin' on the Water, which was so evengelical church in the Ozarks I almost cried--Gano on the violin and Brian Ritchie (sorry but he can be arrogant if he wants to)--Gone Daddy Gone (Brian Ritchie on that xylophone was amaaaazing), and Gimmee the Car--where they totally played their hearts out and just jammed for a long time. Of course they played Add it Up and Kiss Off and Blister in the Sun too, but those were just the crowd pleasers (appeasers). I was amazed they played so hard so clear and so energetically, for such old guys. I mean, they aren't really old, but they are older than me. I started listening to them when I was 16, which is two years after they started being a band at all.
From the VF site: "The Grandfathers of Folk-Punk. Rock's dadaist improvisors. Calcified fossils of teen angst. American roots minimalists. The sonic personification of anxiety. Blues cubists. Spokesmen for misfits. These are just a few of the phrases that come to mind upon thinking of the Femmes." Yeah, kiss off into the air, I DID buy a t-shirt.
That was a great Christmas present Kristen, thank you much.
posted by name at 11:51:00 AM
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