tonight ian moore played at the cactus. once every 6 months or so i get treated to an acoustic ian show here and it's ALWAYS awesome. tonight was no exception, except, HE DID NOT PLAY "CINNAMON". i'm going to have words with him about that one. he made up for it with a scorching version of "a change is gonna come" that has inspired me to make this sunday "sam cooke sunday". DAMN.
anyhoo, onto highlights (of the non-musical variety):
ian rambling through a story while mumbling about a song coming to hiim. kullen asking "is it in g?" (from the hand position) ian: "NO! no, g is my safety chord."
telling a story about pearl jam doing a commercial for target:
kullen: "but, you know, target is not walmart"
ian: "true, but you know what bill hicks said about commercials? 'when you do a commercial, you're sucking satan's cock!'"
mac (ian maclagan) from the audience: "how does it taste??"
kullen: "spicy!"
there were many more, but then, 2 songs before the end of the show, ian maclagan and his friend get chewed a new asshole by this angry dude in the audience who 1. obviously doesn't know who ian maclagan is, 2. has NEVER BEEN TO A SHOW BEFORE (i assume because he seemed angry that there wasn't ABSOLUTE SILENCE in the room while the show was going on) and, 3. who came in angry to begin with.
this dude bitches mac out and the slams back in his chair and just starts shoving the bird in his face while "watching the show". mac gave it right back to him while ian is rambling on on-stage about the next song. when the angry dude stormed out is when ian finally figured out something was going on (ah, blissful ignorance) and then the rows all around mac just started chatting up about it and life went on. the last 2 songs were GREAT because angry dude wasn't stewing in front of me anymore.
ah, ian moore. ALWAYS an experience of epic proportions.
Showing posts with label live. Show all posts
Showing posts with label live. Show all posts
Thursday, September 3, 2009
Monday, August 3, 2009
ida maria - yeah, i'm not even going to try to come up with something clever.
because this girl doesn't need it. FUCK ME she and her awesome band put on a great show. i know it's not hard - they're simple songs, they're simple chord chord chord distortion bridge, but, in my opinion, the simplicity is where the performer is made. if you can make a kick ass show with that simple a formula, then you ARE the consummate performer in my opinion. you don't have anything to hide behind then. the ultimate, unspoken test: you, the audience and your simple songs. and if you can't pull that off, then you're screwed.
besides that, it's a MONDAY NIGHT. who goes to a show and gets crazy on a monday night?!?! apparently austin does for this girl. i was chatting with the bass player after the show and he couldn't believe how amazing the crowd was - especially for a monday night. i told him that it isn't always like that. i love it when people can wow other people.
as i write this, i'm still salty and sweaty - glasvegas didn't impress me enough to stay past 3 songs - sorry! they're essentially interpol and the killers having a scottish baby. i just didn't feel it. maybe their one album is better? and i didn't dig that they were kind of hiding behind their light show.
i think i love her more because i knew, the minute she stepped on stage, that she was me if i could sing and write songs. she is the kind of performer i'd be, only i'd be better. *grin*
besides that, it's a MONDAY NIGHT. who goes to a show and gets crazy on a monday night?!?! apparently austin does for this girl. i was chatting with the bass player after the show and he couldn't believe how amazing the crowd was - especially for a monday night. i told him that it isn't always like that. i love it when people can wow other people.
as i write this, i'm still salty and sweaty - glasvegas didn't impress me enough to stay past 3 songs - sorry! they're essentially interpol and the killers having a scottish baby. i just didn't feel it. maybe their one album is better? and i didn't dig that they were kind of hiding behind their light show.
i think i love her more because i knew, the minute she stepped on stage, that she was me if i could sing and write songs. she is the kind of performer i'd be, only i'd be better. *grin*
Friday, April 3, 2009
chelsea hotel no. 2
i'm going to start this entry with a demand: all you musicians out there who cover "chelsea hotel no. 2"?
stop it.
yes, i mean you. and you too. here's why:
1. EVERYONE COVERS THIS SONG. seriously, there was one day over sxsw that i heard this covered 3 times by 3 different artists. i think i heard it 6 times - at least - over the whole festival.
yes, i know, you get to say "giving me head on the unmade bed" and be all self-depreciating guy joe when it comes to the "she prefers handsome men, but for me she'll make an exception" part, but leonard cohen has a whole SHITLOAD of awesome songs that you can cover.
2. you will NEVER be better than the man himself singing it, so why even try?
end rant. begin swoon.
oh my jesus. this will go down as either being the awesomest idea i've had for a birthday ever or the worst idea i've had for my emotional well-being ever, i'm not sure.
leonard cohen is perfect. i can go into all of these gooey, flowery, completely applicable things about him, but you'll never know until you see him. i can't describe the energy he sets the stage with. i can't describe the boundless energy he has himself - how he's so perfectly practiced in reigning it in and smoothing it over the entire show. i can't describe the power and timbre of his voice that is still so profoundly amazing in a man of 74. you have to see it to believe it. if i weren't defective, you would have seen tears streaming down my face after the first song. my insides wanted to sob, but, of course, they ended up barfing.
it was the smartest $90 i've spent in a LONG time.
on the down-side: leonard cohen is made for lovers. ideally, he is not someone that you would go see alone. or, if you do go see him alone, there had better be someone waiting at home for you so you can get all up in their body when you get back. there is something far too sensual and profane (in a gentle, wonderful way) about his words and voice together that beget emotional upset and physical frustration if you don't have arms to wrap yourself in or necks to nuzzle or lips to kiss or bodies to explore.
i'm going to leave it at that.
stop it.
yes, i mean you. and you too. here's why:
1. EVERYONE COVERS THIS SONG. seriously, there was one day over sxsw that i heard this covered 3 times by 3 different artists. i think i heard it 6 times - at least - over the whole festival.
yes, i know, you get to say "giving me head on the unmade bed" and be all self-depreciating guy joe when it comes to the "she prefers handsome men, but for me she'll make an exception" part, but leonard cohen has a whole SHITLOAD of awesome songs that you can cover.
2. you will NEVER be better than the man himself singing it, so why even try?
end rant. begin swoon.
oh my jesus. this will go down as either being the awesomest idea i've had for a birthday ever or the worst idea i've had for my emotional well-being ever, i'm not sure.
leonard cohen is perfect. i can go into all of these gooey, flowery, completely applicable things about him, but you'll never know until you see him. i can't describe the energy he sets the stage with. i can't describe the boundless energy he has himself - how he's so perfectly practiced in reigning it in and smoothing it over the entire show. i can't describe the power and timbre of his voice that is still so profoundly amazing in a man of 74. you have to see it to believe it. if i weren't defective, you would have seen tears streaming down my face after the first song. my insides wanted to sob, but, of course, they ended up barfing.
it was the smartest $90 i've spent in a LONG time.
on the down-side: leonard cohen is made for lovers. ideally, he is not someone that you would go see alone. or, if you do go see him alone, there had better be someone waiting at home for you so you can get all up in their body when you get back. there is something far too sensual and profane (in a gentle, wonderful way) about his words and voice together that beget emotional upset and physical frustration if you don't have arms to wrap yourself in or necks to nuzzle or lips to kiss or bodies to explore.
i'm going to leave it at that.
Monday, February 9, 2009
so it begins
and with music no less.
last night I saw devotchka at la zona rosa and am now questioning my grip on reality.
let's start with the obligatory grump about mundane normal stuff, shall we?
la zona rosa now sucks ass for 3 reasons: 1. there are SO many beards there i can’t stand it. hipster, ironic beards that i just want to rip off all their faces. i’m ok with facial hair on the right face, but very few people can pull off a full fluffy beard without looking like a child molester. hop in your white window-less van and go to another show dammit. 2. getting into the venue is worse than going through airport security. you start at the bar entrance where they check your id, but not your ticket. then you get to the venue door and they check your bag, but not your id or your ticket. then you get to some random guy at a table who requests your ticket. i've put it away already you idiot! and 3. NO MORE LONE STAR. i officially don’t live in texas anymore when i’m there because they do not sell lone star at la zona rosa anymore. end gripe about venue.
now, onto the opener: Eric Bachmann and Crooked Fingers. i saw eric bachmann open for josh ritter about a year an a half ago and it was great, but it was just him and i was far away, so i didn't get to see as much as i did here. he had his trusty band with him this time and it made all the difference. this man has insanely large hands – i’m pretty sure he could palm my face – that look almost uncomfortable on the neck of the guitar as he plays. he’s a classically trained guitarist and he brings that to electric which adds an unexpected richness to the sounds that come out of that guitar. the songs are lovely and i can’t say anything disparaging about him or his band. they weren’t life changing, but they were good for what they were. i say give them a listen and see what you think, i’ll not try to sway you one way or another.
devotchka – the main attraction. i have no words for the awesomeness of this band. they come on stage, all in black, ready to take on whatever is before them, which, surprisingly, is pretty darn close to a full house (of beards). i’m transported on a lovely rockin’ cloud of strings and tubas, crunchy gypsy guitar and beautiful, effortless soaring vocals. nick urata’s like a magical merman with his voice. anything i say to try and describe the wonder and awe they inspire would only fall short, so you’ll just have to go see them live to see for yourself. all in all, it was a fabulous show. they are a feast for the senses – visually, aurally - every way a show can be. and all of them are fantastic show people. i was reading an article where they were described as “gypsy punk” and I can’t think of a more appropriate descriptor.
on to the people “watching” (more like forced people interaction for me): my beautiful merman - nick urata – oh daddy! - is not 10 feet from me rockin’ his little heart out in his sassy ¾ length velvet military coat when along comes this couple who has to stand right next to me so they can start molesting each other. i seriously think these 2 were on e. the sounds were enough to make me want to throw up on their shoes, let alone the display. and they were doing this make-out wild dance thing that cleared the nearest area – except for me, i can be pretty stubborn about my spot (remember this for later) – and i must say, it was the most physical contact I’ve had with any person in months. seriously, they kept bumping and rubbing me like I was a fifty-cent whore’s dance pole. i don’t know what’s sadder, that that’s the most consistent physical contact that i’ve had in months or that i just broadcast that on the internets. Hm. anyhoo, to demonstrate my point, it got to where they said they had to go to the bathroom and it took them 3 songs before they could stop fondling and eating each others faces enough to go. i was so close to telling them to just go together so they could fuck each others brains out, but i didn’t even though everyone else around me really wanted me to.
exit 1 half of disgustingly cute couple, enter drunk frat guys who don’t even know what band they’re seeing. this is where my grip on reality begins to loosen. these guys come up, directly in front of me, and start bouncing and dancing with elbows and spinning, obviously trying to start a mosh pit – and these were not small dudes. i’m talking 6’3” or 6’4” and at least a deuce a piece. uhm - HAVE YOU HEARD DEVOTCHKA? they are the LAST band in the world who would have a mosh pit. it pissed everyone off, but these were the kind of guys that respond to grumpiness with violence, so when the song ended, i took the most violently active one and told him that i really appreciated that he was having a good time, but i just wanted to let him know that if i got an elbow to the face, he was going to get a knee to the nuts. he understood and respected my boundaries for the rest of the encore, hitting me everywhere but above the neck. that was our deal. that's what i get for not being specific. then he offered to buy me a shot. then he forced me into the mosh pit because i really liked my spot (see “stubborn about my spot”) and i wasn’t going to give it up because of a couple of big drunk assholes. so i got in the mosh pit. i loosened up and let off some steam. i punched and shouldered large men in the chest. and i impressed people. my favorite part of it had to be at the end of the evening when i told the dude that started it all “thanks for not making me knee you in the nuts”.
Thus ends my first post.
ps - i want to be jeanie schroder when i grow up. she’s THE chick in the band, plays the tuba (with awesomely rad lights in it) and the cello and the stand up bass and the regular bass. and she looks positively thrilled every moment she’s on stage with this band. i am very jealous of her.
last night I saw devotchka at la zona rosa and am now questioning my grip on reality.
let's start with the obligatory grump about mundane normal stuff, shall we?
la zona rosa now sucks ass for 3 reasons: 1. there are SO many beards there i can’t stand it. hipster, ironic beards that i just want to rip off all their faces. i’m ok with facial hair on the right face, but very few people can pull off a full fluffy beard without looking like a child molester. hop in your white window-less van and go to another show dammit. 2. getting into the venue is worse than going through airport security. you start at the bar entrance where they check your id, but not your ticket. then you get to the venue door and they check your bag, but not your id or your ticket. then you get to some random guy at a table who requests your ticket. i've put it away already you idiot! and 3. NO MORE LONE STAR. i officially don’t live in texas anymore when i’m there because they do not sell lone star at la zona rosa anymore. end gripe about venue.
now, onto the opener: Eric Bachmann and Crooked Fingers. i saw eric bachmann open for josh ritter about a year an a half ago and it was great, but it was just him and i was far away, so i didn't get to see as much as i did here. he had his trusty band with him this time and it made all the difference. this man has insanely large hands – i’m pretty sure he could palm my face – that look almost uncomfortable on the neck of the guitar as he plays. he’s a classically trained guitarist and he brings that to electric which adds an unexpected richness to the sounds that come out of that guitar. the songs are lovely and i can’t say anything disparaging about him or his band. they weren’t life changing, but they were good for what they were. i say give them a listen and see what you think, i’ll not try to sway you one way or another.
devotchka – the main attraction. i have no words for the awesomeness of this band. they come on stage, all in black, ready to take on whatever is before them, which, surprisingly, is pretty darn close to a full house (of beards). i’m transported on a lovely rockin’ cloud of strings and tubas, crunchy gypsy guitar and beautiful, effortless soaring vocals. nick urata’s like a magical merman with his voice. anything i say to try and describe the wonder and awe they inspire would only fall short, so you’ll just have to go see them live to see for yourself. all in all, it was a fabulous show. they are a feast for the senses – visually, aurally - every way a show can be. and all of them are fantastic show people. i was reading an article where they were described as “gypsy punk” and I can’t think of a more appropriate descriptor.
on to the people “watching” (more like forced people interaction for me): my beautiful merman - nick urata – oh daddy! - is not 10 feet from me rockin’ his little heart out in his sassy ¾ length velvet military coat when along comes this couple who has to stand right next to me so they can start molesting each other. i seriously think these 2 were on e. the sounds were enough to make me want to throw up on their shoes, let alone the display. and they were doing this make-out wild dance thing that cleared the nearest area – except for me, i can be pretty stubborn about my spot (remember this for later) – and i must say, it was the most physical contact I’ve had with any person in months. seriously, they kept bumping and rubbing me like I was a fifty-cent whore’s dance pole. i don’t know what’s sadder, that that’s the most consistent physical contact that i’ve had in months or that i just broadcast that on the internets. Hm. anyhoo, to demonstrate my point, it got to where they said they had to go to the bathroom and it took them 3 songs before they could stop fondling and eating each others faces enough to go. i was so close to telling them to just go together so they could fuck each others brains out, but i didn’t even though everyone else around me really wanted me to.
exit 1 half of disgustingly cute couple, enter drunk frat guys who don’t even know what band they’re seeing. this is where my grip on reality begins to loosen. these guys come up, directly in front of me, and start bouncing and dancing with elbows and spinning, obviously trying to start a mosh pit – and these were not small dudes. i’m talking 6’3” or 6’4” and at least a deuce a piece. uhm - HAVE YOU HEARD DEVOTCHKA? they are the LAST band in the world who would have a mosh pit. it pissed everyone off, but these were the kind of guys that respond to grumpiness with violence, so when the song ended, i took the most violently active one and told him that i really appreciated that he was having a good time, but i just wanted to let him know that if i got an elbow to the face, he was going to get a knee to the nuts. he understood and respected my boundaries for the rest of the encore, hitting me everywhere but above the neck. that was our deal. that's what i get for not being specific. then he offered to buy me a shot. then he forced me into the mosh pit because i really liked my spot (see “stubborn about my spot”) and i wasn’t going to give it up because of a couple of big drunk assholes. so i got in the mosh pit. i loosened up and let off some steam. i punched and shouldered large men in the chest. and i impressed people. my favorite part of it had to be at the end of the evening when i told the dude that started it all “thanks for not making me knee you in the nuts”.
Thus ends my first post.
ps - i want to be jeanie schroder when i grow up. she’s THE chick in the band, plays the tuba (with awesomely rad lights in it) and the cello and the stand up bass and the regular bass. and she looks positively thrilled every moment she’s on stage with this band. i am very jealous of her.
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