i was a new york doll

Boy, I've been seeing a lot of veterans lately, haven't I? But maybe I'm a veteran at this point too. If celebrating the occasion of Robyn Hitchcock's 60th birthday at the Fillmore puts me in the oldster category, so be it. I wasn't about to miss this show for anything.

Viva Hitchcock! A 60th Birthday Celebration for Robyn Hitchcock, the Fillmore, May 2, 2013: I confess my expectations of special guests and one-off events at concerts have grown unreasonably. I kind of want them to happen all the time, in no small part due to decade-plus of star-studded (?) spectacles in Southern California. I try to tamp down the anticipation, but it helps when all the cards on the table and the guest list is known, long before the show is scheduled. At that point, all you have to do is sit back and enjoy, as a cavalcade of guests feted Robyn Hitchcock, on the occasion of his 60th birthday (albeit six months on).

Before a single musician played a note, Daniel Handler set the stage with an intro for the show. As it happened, he wouldn't be the only writer we'd see tonight; Neil Gaiman briefly joined him at the mic to introduce Amanda Palmer's portion of the show. Also, I could swear I saw Michael Chabon up in guest box, but then again, there were a lot of bespectacled, bookish-looking, middle-aged men all over the premises, so I could be wrong.

But back to Daniel Handler, aka Lemony Snicket -- I believe he was the one who noted that most of the artists we'd see tonight were from the Pacific Northwest. By no coincidence, Colin Meloy was the main mover behind the scenes, so of course there'd be a regional bias. Lucky for us, that part of the world is pretty good for, well, almost everything these days. I'm just thankful they decided to do it at the Fillmore instead of another part of the world. Then again, why would you want to do this anywhere else, given the choice?

Among the first musicians to plug in were John Moen (Decemberists), Dave Depper, Andy Cabic (Vetiver) -- and Peter Buck (er, REM, though I think Daniel Handler reminded us that he's currently unemployed). As you might guess, Peter Buck got a lot of attention, but his contributions and presence were fairly subtle, if you can call gorgeous, rippling chords from those big, beautiful Gibsons and Rickenbackers "subtle." Overall, he stayed in the background, even as the crowd cheered on his every appearance.

Peter, Dave, and John would act as the house band for much of the night, backing each new ensemble for their portion of the show and their selections from Robyn's catalog -- in most cases, going into deep album cuts. Sean Nelson (ex-Harvey Danger) had joined this first assemblage, but he returned with his wife for the second segment of his show. Sean got in one of the better lines of the night, as he called out our likely common affliction: Anglophilia. Nailed it!

Eric Johnson of the Fruit Bats was the first musician of the evening that I count among my favorites, and it was probably my familiarity with his music that it hit me: These artists were really personalizing Robyn's tunes.



This also brings up a confession: I'm not particularly up on Robyn's songs, despite having seen him in concert at least a couple of dozen times by now and even being a cognizant music fan when he hit the scene. Back then, his tunes weren't particularly pop-friendly to my teenage ears. I'm gonna say it -- he was probably a little too weird and not as photogenic as I preferred. Also, as I later discovered, he had that whole Dylan thing going on, which I still haven't really warmed to, truth be told. In fact, I don't think I've ever seen Robyn as a strictly solo act; more often than not, I've caught him as part of a Largo conclave, where it seems like everything but an artist's original tracks are on the menu.

Over to Eric: He covered "Trams of Old London," which I actually recognized! But just as identifiable was the jangly, acoustic spin he put on the tune. His typically rich vocals didn't hurt either. It's worth repeating: He has one of my favorite voices among musicians today. In Eric's hands, the songs sounded like Fruit Bats tunes.

The Young Fresh Fellows were on next, turning the volume all the way up to 11 and kicking up the tempo. You have to wonder if it's ever smart to name your act "Young," because these guys were not. Then again, what 20-something thinks they'll ever get old? Or that their band will persist long enough for the name to matter. And that aforementioned point about the Fruit Bats putting their stamp on Robyn's titles? It went double for the Young Fresh Fellows.

I'm a little more familiar with Rhett Miller's association with Robyn Hitchcock, so it came as little surprise that he'd share his fandom so giddily or that he'd go with "Cynthia Mask," which the Old 97s recorded a while back. But who knew he'd get "Balloon Man," perhaps Robyn's only certified U.S. (alternative?) radio hit? And yup, you guessed it -- Rhett put a little bit of Texas in the quintessentially British works.



This was the point when Neil Gaiman joined the performers, though he didn't say a word as Daniel Handler directed our attention to one of the upstairs boxes. A barbershop quintet, known as the Hitchcockblockers, had assembled for an a cappella rendition of "Uncorrected Personality Traits."



One of the Hitchcockblockers, Amanda Palmer, came downstairs for the next segment, accompanied by the birthday boy himself. In fact, this was the first time we'd seen him all night, but thankfully, it wouldn't be the last. I'm not entirely up on the Amanda Palmer saga, but I guess her fellow musicians haven't shut her out. Free speech? Solidarity? Your guess is as good as mine (that is: not good at all).

The instigator Colin Meloy came up next, after an awesome intro by Daniel Handler that I wish I could repeat verbatim because it was so good. All I can recall is that he mentioned Irish folk songs and Civil War reenactments. Like the rest of the crew, Colin took his allotted portion of three songs -- but dammit, if the titles alone couldn't have been ripped out of a Decemberists setlist. Colin sounded like Colin, but he may have shared the most direct connection to Robyn, with their taste in subject matter, wordplay, and folksiness. In case you had been wondering why Colin of all people had assembled this show, he put those question to rest with his performance.



I've skimmed over Daniel Handler's input because it's impossible to repeat his words without mangling them in my own illiteracy. But he created another highlight when he donned an accordion and sang "Gene Hackman" for us. Do I agree with the song's sentiment? No, but I highly approve of Mr. Lemony Snicket putting a sorrowful, Old World slant on it.

Finally, it was time for Robyn himself, partly solo, partly with the Venus 3, and partly in a mob, but first he shared the stage with Sean Nelson for a couple of tunes, including the always charming "I Feel Beautiful," even if I missed you-know-who's marxophone solo. According to Robyn, the Venus 3 was more like the Venus 4.5, but he may have been the only one counting. I'm way into this phase of Robyn's career and was happy to hear the tunes from the last couple of records. They brought back Colin for "Madonna of the Wasps," though he looked a little unsure of his role. I, for one, was happy to see him there.



The encore turned out to be a big party, as everyone returned for an a cappella "Furry Green Atom Bowl" and the musician's urging us to join in with handclaps. Many of the musicians themselves were working from lyrics sheets; I guess you can't really rehearse that kind of thing. The penultimate song, "Listen to the Higsons," moved Peter Buck and Colin Meloy to the drum sets, which is the kind of musical chairs I love.



The audience coaxed Robyn out for a final song, but it only worked once. Though we were still buzzing for more from the all-stars, Daniel Handler capped the evening as he began, with the final send-off. We managed to squeeze in one final round of "Happy Birthday" for the man himself. It was the least we could do.

Setlist

See also:
» i'm happy, hope you're happy too
» she couldn't dance but she wanted to
» my starter won't start
» it took almost seven hours to sing
» i've written pages upon pages
» time is round and space is curved

i've written pages upon pages

Ordinarily, I'd blog the pair of Colin Meloy shows I just saw in two separate entries, but I'm in serious catch-up mode. Can't. Stop. Now.

Colin Meloy, Rio Theatre, April 29, 2008: I love it when a favorite band or performer hits a tertiary market, but living in San Francisco makes it too easy to sometimes stay put and let the musicians come to me. So I welcomed the opportunity to make a quick day trip to Santa Cruz for Colin Meloy's show.

This venue was new for all three of us, so we had no idea what to expect other than a fairly small place. And we were right--it looked to be an old movie theater, with a quarter of the seats ripped out to make room for a general admission floor. The wide, low stage served as a fitting backdrop to Colin's drama-drenched tales.

It's been about a year since I last saw the Decemberists and two since Colin's most recent solo tour, and quite a bit has happened in that time. The band is now on a major label (OK, that happened more than a year ago) and Colin has become a dad, for example. But in this low-key room, you wouldn't necessarily know that changes had taken hold.

For one, Colin retained the setup from the last tour, with a table full of tchotchkes at his side, though he had added a new homey touch: a simple chair with a rudimentary turntable playing old records piped over the PA. Awwww.



But listen in, and you could easily sense that Colin has grown more confident onstage as he bantered with the audience, accepting a hand-crocheted scarf from one girl, promising another his setlist, and referring to a mulleted boy as a "hesher," as mentioned in "The Apology Song." He offered numerous stories and explanations for his songs, including a pretty funny one for "The Sporting Life" and--well, he just talked. Paul thought he seemed particularly goofy that night, and Colin mentioned something about sleep deprivation. Perhaps young Hank kept him up; whatever happened, it worked in the show's favor.

Colin's audience is, without a doubt, adoring, and in this particular town and this particular venue, they weren't about to get rowdy. On their own, they offered harmonies and handclaps, but he still managed to demonstrate the hold he has on their imaginations when he split the room in two and assigned us our part of the layered harmonies, as well as when he urged us to act out segments of "The Mariner's Revenge Song" (Annie finally understood why I got busted last time!).

In fact, I not only heeded Colin's directions at this show, I helped out when he started playing the Smiths' "I Don't Owe You Anything" but hesitated on the first couple of lines. Look, I've said it before: The Smiths were one of the truly pivotal bands of my teenage years, and they helped balance out all the Duran Duran content that otherwise dominated my waking hours. Besides, I love that song, and the 12-inch import single with Sandie Shaw on vocals resides with the rest of my Smiths vinyl.

As for the remainder of the tunes, I loved that he opened with the highly appropriate "California One/Youth and Beauty Brigade" and that he dropped in the rarely played "Tristan and Isolde." He tried out some new songs as well, but I'm not sold on them yet. Still, though, the show was worth the drive over the mountains.

Colin Meloy, the Fillmore, April 29, 2008: And then of course, these same performers reach San Francisco in a club I like, and all is well there too.

This solo tour, the third I've seen, has marked the Decemberists' growth as a band more than any of their previous shows. Sure, I recall that they sold out two nights at the Warfield, but that seemed only natural. But Colin playing solo at the Fillmore (though the show itself wasn't sold out)--that felt big.



You wouldn't know it from Colin's demeanor, however. He looked cool as a cucumber taking the stage, and he kept his head, even as tonight's crowd proved a little more vocal than the previous evening's bunch. A group of fans who also attended the Santa Cruz show made themselves known at the front, with a request for "Dracula's Daughter" as well as prematurely providing punchlines to some of Colin's stories. Another guy farther back kept yelling boisterously across the hushed room, leading Colin to comment, "You should be in show business."

Overall, the San Francisco gig was a slightly more professional affair with fewer digressions than we heard the night before, but Colin and the crowd compensated with a higher energy level. Once again, I'll cite the example of "The Mariner's Revenge Song," if only because it made Colin run from one end of the stage to the other, egging us on in our overreaction.

Colin switched up the setlist somewhat, so we got to hear "Grace Cathedral Hill" (a song I'll never tire of), and I think this was the night we got an explanation of how "The Perfect Crime No. 2" morphed from his relatively straightforward take to the Steely Dan-inspired studio recording we've come to know. And I'd be remiss if I didn't play the Music Nerd card and mention that he dropped a couple of lines of "Rusholme Ruffians" (among my brother's favorite Smiths songs, and depending on the day, perhaps my favorite Smiths album) into a bridge somewhere.

We also heard a different set of new songs. One of them, Colin explained, involved a virtuous couple and a villain, and I gotta say that the villain had all the good parts. But anyone who's ever studied Paradise Lost knows that already.



At both shows, Laura Gibson joined Colin to sing Sam Cooke's "Cupid." At times, her voice reminded me of Natalie Merchant's higher register, and Laura has sweet, quiet songs, as well as a somewhat nervous, sympathetic onstage presence. The fans treated her with respect so that her songs could be heard.

See also:
» hear all the bombs, they fade away
» calling all bed wetters and ambulance chasers

calling all bed wetters and ambulance chasers

The last of three! It was about a year ago that Colin Meloy embarked on a solo tour, and perhaps this is becoming a new tradition. If it is, he's in good company.

Colin Meloy, El Rey Theatre, January 21, 2006: Oh dear, as if populating his songs with characters that would make even Dickens and Robert Louis Stevenson blush weren't enough, Colin had a stage setup that consisted of a table holding up a small galleon, a stuffed sheep, and a skull. Could the Bard be in his sights?

Fortunately, the skull was named Cheryl, probably not big on the baby register in the Renaissance. Also to his credit, Colin's music is built upon a solid foundation of poetry, melody, and emotion that overshadows the more precious moments he's prone to dreaming up. It's easy to see why the room of mostly underage fans were so taken with him and were ready to follow his every command, from snapping their fingers to banging their heads to closing their eyes and imagining themselves gathered around a campfire in Colorado. He is a masterful storyteller, and his tableaus are a far cry from, for example, the doctored reality programming that seems to have invaded every corner of our culture. And for those of us who can legally drink, it's never a bad thing when you hear not only strains of past influences but also the new twists that remind you how music can still surprise and delight.

The last year of extensive touring and growing acclaim has definitely improved Colin's stage presence, and he stepped up to the challenge of the bigger room, with style to spare. He did a couple of charming new songs, as well as much older tunes from his pre-Decemberists days. Predictably, my favorite songs are about places I know. I figured he had to hit "Los Angeles I'm Yours" in place of "Grace Cathedral Hill," but "California One/Youth and Beauty Brigade" was a nice olive branch.

Laura Viers, the opener, deserved credit as well for presenting herself to a room of someone else's rabid fans, armed only with her guitar and some loopers, it seems. Her more interesting numbers involved layering and other studio-style tricks. Otherwise, her plainer songs had a samey quality.

See also:
» it's been a while
» down the Hyde Street pier
» a writer, a writer of fictions

it's been a while

Holy crap--so much for the idea that this would make it easier for me to remember shows and stuff. Ha! Maybe I was better off writing things in my little notebook. Well, one of these days, I'll catch up with the tons of shows I attended between September 2004 and January 2005, but here are summaries of at least a couple of them I saw in January.

***********************
Arcade Fire
Jan. 13 and 14, 2005
Great American Music Hall
San Francisco

I can't think of another time when a new band on an indie label managed to sell out three nights at the Great American Music Hall in no time flat. The ticket saga on craigslist was a soap opera in itself. That hype, combined with my friend's warning that Win's voice was really awful at their show here in December, made me a little wary, but I knew it was something I had to see for myself. I couldn't justify seeing all three shows, but maybe that was right decision, as Win was reportedly strying to shake off a bug on that first night. However, I did miss Will ramming the wall and taking out a nice chunk of the plaster with him. His scuff marks were all over the wall as well--alongside the big cut-outs of the Victorian ladies and other artwork.

There weren't many changes to the setlist, but what was merely intense on Thursday went apeshit on Friday, including Richard and Will's tussle on "Laika" (after they had borrowed another helmet to replace the one that was stolen/lost after the first night) and a version of "Crown of Love" that could not be more moving. The second night, "Tunnels" was also mindblowing. Their epic sound filled the Great American beautifully, and I could see people standing up in their seats, all the way in the back balcony. They managed to hurt themselves both nights; Will and Win were bleeding from, respectively, a percussion-related injury and running into the mic stand. The second night, Richard split his pants when he tripped over Will's collapsed form. (I'm not sure how Richard did this, as he has the patented Indie Ass--that is, none at all.) His attempts at surreptitiously pinning the seat of his trousers back together were comedically useless, but he was eventually outed by Win. And the handful of shared Win-Regine vocals were wonderful to hear, especially on "My Heart Is an Apple." They did one new song each night, the second of which seemed to have a jauntier, poppier air. The second night, they seemed to go all out, buying a truckload of flashlights for the audience to wave around when the lights when down for the encore of "Un Annee Sans Lumiere" and "Power Out."

If there's anything I'll take away from this show, it's the way the band seems to enjoy every moment. I love that they all sing along to the songs, adding to the choir effect when needed but belting it out even if there's no microphone near them. Right now, I can't stop thinking of the little details that jumped out at me that weren't so obvious from listening to the record, such as that wonderful guitar lick from "Une Annee" and the overall percussive domination to their sound.

And for the starspotters out there, the indie rockers were in full force, as John Vanderslice as well as various members of Beulah and Sleater-Kinney were taking in the tunes on Thursday.

After the show, the band was just kinda hanging out around the floor and fielding questions, conversations, requests with everyone who asked. Hype or no, they couldn't have been more down to earth and unaffected. Regine even told us the tragic story about how they forgot her beloved boots in the taxi that day. I've decided that the next time they come to town, I'm going to every single show, even if it kills me. Yes, they're that good and that fun to watch.
***********************
Nels Cline Singers
1-21-05
Bruno's
San Francisco

What a difference three months makes. This Nels Cline Singers appearance saw a bigger, livelier crowd, but everyone listened raptly to the actual performance. The group itself concentrated on songs from The Giant Pin but threw in a few older and newer tracks as well. I think it was during "Fly Fly" that Devin Hoff turned in an intense bass solo, only to be answered by Nels's equally emphatic guitar-and-whisk work. One very cool and very artful new song, "Mr. Real," was dedicated to a 71-year-old jazz guitarist living in Florida whose name escapes me, but the tune is not to be missed (whenever it's properly recorded, anyway).

We said hi to Nels after the show, and he seemed surprised to see us there. I guess that after seeing us all over the country at Wilco shows, he had no idea where we were from. He gave us a couple of posters and we left for home before we fell asleep on our feet.

***********************
Colin Meloy
1-16-05
Cafe du Nord
San Francisco

I'm still not a huge Decemberists fan the way that a lot of people are, but I recognize their charms, and deciding to see this show was a no-brainer. I kinda have that rule about seeing the main singer/songwriter from bands I dig doing the solo thing, w/o the others. Sometimes, you get blown away by the power of the stripped-down tunes. Other times, you end up wishing the whole band was present.

Colin came out all by himself, except for a couple of guitars. I can't tell you the set list, but he did a numbers of tunes from the new album, all the while goodnaturedly cursing those of us who've downloaded the album as pirates. I find this incredibly ironic, considering half of the band's songs are about pirates. Go figure. Of course, he did a bunch of songs from the catalog, including the divine "Grace Cathedral Hill," perhaps my fave of their songs--the San Francisco angle doesn't hurt, either. He also did a song that didn't make it to the new album, and I think they chose wisely, as it was the narrative of the nine-fingered bandit queen. I dig their narratives, but that's a bit precious for me.

I ended up picking up four copies of the EP they were selling at the show, of Colin doing Morrissey covers. I find this so delightful for a number of reasons. First of all, the Decemberists seem to be one of the few bands who have any right to cover Smiths and/or Morrissey songs, now that the original band seems to be such a staple. I'm not really sure why I think that, but maybe Colin's lyrics at least have the same spark of creativity and uniqueness that Morrissey's did way back when. Also, I love that Colin did Morrissey covers, and not Smiths tunes. It's just so easy to proclaim the Smiths as gods these days; I love that Colin chose fairly obscure tunes from the Moz catalog instead. I had Colin sign them for the various peeps, and he couldn't have been more gracious.

***********************
Jeff Tweedy
1-29-05
Sooz's basement
Chicago

...and then the day arrived. I got into Chicago on Friday evening, where Sooz and the gang picked me up from the El stop. Obviously, I had been looking forward to this day for a number of weeks at that point, but I guess the full import hadn't hit me. I knew I was gonna see a show and that I was gonna hang out with my buddies. Otherwise, it didn't feel that weird. And overall, it never felt weird over the whole weekend, except for maybe at the very moment Mark announced that the Tweedys were trying to find a parking space in front of Sooz's house. I made sure Heidi didn't slink away and instead stood her ground in the kitchen.

It took a little while to load in and set up Jeff's gear. He may have done a soundcheck too, but I was upstairs, gorging on the yummy stuff that everyone had brought. I can't remember the exact time the show started, but it was definitely an auspicious beginning with intros and intros for the intros. Thax Douglas and Tim Tutten were present, so we had the full Chi-Town rock treatment. Finally, Jeff took the "stage" and kicked off with "Laminated Cat."

I could go on for a very long time about how wonderful that night was, but I don't think I'd do it justice. The music was a delight, even when we marred the otherwise lovely tunes. The Tweedys were as sweet as can be, and the friends--they weren't just the icing on the cake, they infused every morsel of joy that evening. I try to explain it all the time, but it's impossible these days. It's like everyone who tries to differentiate between the heart and the head and realizes how futile it is. It's not just the music anymore, it's the friends as well, and neither would be as strong w/o the other. When I think back on it years from now, perhaps I will remember finally hearing "Lost Love" (my unsubtle hint in the voting obviously worked) or, more likely, I will think of me and Heidi squealing for the Split Enz songs. Regardless, it was one of the greatest nights in my life, and the following week of "real life" was the biggest drag ever. But now that I've had some distance from it, I'm appreciating it more for the awesome experience it was. You know what they say about it's better to have loved and lost? Well, maybe this isn't completely analogous, but I try to tell myself that just the experience is enough.

The full history
» i wish that i knew what I know now
» people say i'm crazy doing what i'm doing
» the message
» all the ladies and gentlemen
» that year
» springtime comes
» turn our prayers to outrageous dares
» every day is dreamlike