why are your shoulders like that of a tired old woman

This blog has been quiet lately for many reasons, but mostly because I'm trying to save money for a major vacation next month. But a friend of a friend of a friend came through with an extra ticket for this sold-out gig, and I peeled off a few dollars to catch the stellar double bill of Neil Finn and Midlake.

Neil Finn/Midlake, Palace of Fine Arts, April 1, 2014: My concert decisions are determined by a tricky algorithm of price, venue, and the ultimate X factor: my levels of mania for the artist in question. On two counts, the Neil Finn/Midlake gig was a bust, but oh, how that last element nagged at me. Neil, as this blog will bear out, is a longtime favorite, and Midlake made one of my most beloved albums of the last 10 years. Before an extra ticket popped up, I was ready to brush off this gig, perhaps in tears.

Luckily, I saved the salt for another day, with an unexpected bonus. The seat turned out to be fantastic: 3rd row center, with a great view of Midlake (more on that later). I have a habit of being lulled to sleep at the Palace of Fine Arts, which is amazingly womblike in its embrace, but I'm starting to suspect it helps to be in a good spot. Honestly, I don't see it happening again anytime soon.



Probably the first thing I noticed about the show was Neil's backing band: six members in all, not including himself. Building on Pajama Club, Sharon Finn took the bass and more than held her own. Neil and Sharon were joined by four other musicians, most of whom looked impossibly young and maybe reminded some of us a little too acutely of how long we've been listening to this man.

Full disclosure: I don't own the new Neil Finn record yet, but as Neil mentioned early on, he now had to the freedom to play songs from his entire discography (or "inventory," as one on-air radio personality said to him earlier that week) -- and he did, though the new songs took up a good chunk of the set. There's no way for me to describe the new songs in a short, sweet sentence, but as you can imagine, they're catchy and effortless, and you can hear the Antipodean rhythms that Neil sometimes explores. I'd forgotten that Dave Fridmann produced the album, and that somewhat psychedelic influence showed as well -- and may have influenced the swirly stage backdrop.

Among the new songs, one tune name-dropped "Game of Thrones" and may have also simply thanked us for coming out tonight. "Dizzy Heights" -- aka the "single" -- was another perfect pop package that deserves to be heard, if it weren't for the travesty that passes for commercial radio programming in the States.

Let's face it, though: When you've recorded nearly 30 years of music, we want to hear the classics, and Neil delivered. He went as far back as "One Step Ahead" and "I Got You" -- as I mentioned to friends, both of which are almost old enough to be Neil's guitarist's parents. I loved hearing "Distant Sun" and "Only Talking Sense," although the former doesn't seem complete without Jon Brion's guitar these days. Neil did nicely on the piano for "Message to My Girl" and "Don't Dream It's Over," and I believe the latter featured lovely backing vocals from Lisa and Jesse. For our part, we tried, but I don't think we did a very good job with "Fall at Your Feet." On that count, I will blame the room. More helpful, the audience pitched in when Neil couldn't remember the second verse of "Try Whistling This," which was a late decision anyway.



Neil being Neil, he let the chit chat flow, commenting on last fall's America's Cup race (clearly, it was a big deal to the Kiwis), engaging with the Mojo photographer snapping away, and bringing in his father, who was Skyping in to the show. As it was still his birthday (92 years old!) in the States, we got to sing to him too, and Neil dedicated "Wherever You Are" to him.

If the show were merely Neil and I had missed it, I probably would've been OK, but it was the announcement of Midlake as the opener that killed me. I don't know why I like Midlake so much compared to, say, Fleet Foxes and the current crop of Beardy Harmonizers™, but hey, the ears want what the ears want.



I've gushed about Midlake in previous posts, and though I wasn't in love with the last record, I've really wanted to check out the latest album (which is great) in performance. Unfortunately, the band has mostly opened for artists I don't care for, and I was out of town when they played their one headlining gig. Their three-year layoff and band drama didn't help either.

About the band drama: Certainly the former lead singer was a huge presence and force in the band, but they've regrouped well, with the second (?) in command stepping up. Singer/guitarist Eric Pulido's presence on vocals and guitar has sure come in handy, to the point you almost don't notice the shift.

Generally, an opening slot wouldn't satisfy, but this wasn't your ordinary warm-up. For one, Neil Finn was the follow-up, and second, we saw Midlake's rare three-person acoustic arrangement -- two treats in all. Talk about win-win!

The room was maybe 25 percent full for Midlake, and even among those gathered, the band's recognition was low. Fortunately, they turned it into an inside joke, repeating their marketing spiel after every song and charming the newbies -- or at least the ones willing to give them a try. Honestly, Midlake is major Mojo/Word/Q fodder and deserves a listen.

The set felt short, even by my greedy standards, perhaps five or six songs in all. They opened with "Young Bride" and came back to "Head Home" later in the set. In between, they did "Antiphon," and at least two more from the new record -- maybe "It's Going Down" and another? Finally, they closed with "I Shall Be Released." I expected "Young Bride," which still bewitches me on a regular basis, but "Head Home" was a surprise. Alas, no "Roscoe," though I think that pops up from time to time at other shows.

Their voices sounded great in the hushed, respectful hall, especially on the new songs built around these specific harmonies. Since I haven't seen their latest electric incarnation, I can't compare this performance to the full-band treatment, except to say I'm even more raring to watch them play again.

Thank you, Neil Finn, for never disappointing and, this time, for bringing along a stellar opening act. Midlake, please come back and play your own gig. New fans might even show up next time.

See also:
» i can teach you, but i have to charge
» you can tell that i'm not lying
» wherever there is comfort, there is pain
» too consumed with this world

where butterflies and blackbirds perch

Thanks to a happy confluence of events, I've hardly been deprived of E and the eels between tours, but I wouldn't complain if their appearances increased a bit. Until that happens (i.e., never), I'll stick with Plan A and continue attending their shows up here.

eels, Palace of Fine Arts, April 14, 2008: One of the things I love about the fantastic group of people who filled up my hours in Chicago last weekend is that we're all music nuts, which should be clear in the way we track down, map out, and fill out our calendar with as many gigs as we can. Thus, even as we chowed down and awaited Jeff's arrival, we found plenty of time to discuss other gigs and artists. Thanks to Sooz's recent concert experience, we buzzed about E and the eels quite a bit.

Truthfully, we mostly chatted about the merchandise available at the shows, and let me assure you, there were some good 'uns. Alas, I resisted the undies, despite my long-held remorse over not buying Pulp knickers when I had a chance.

Sooz didn't tell me much about the show itself, perhaps because she wanted to keep it a surprise; further, I hate spoilers. For a band like the eels, this effort is worth it, as they do their best to mix it up from tour to tour.

The streak remained intact for this gig; in lieu of an opener, for the first hour-plus of the show, we watched Parallel Worlds, Parallel Lives, a documentary about E's father, the quantum physicist Hugh Everett III. (So that was why we were in a seated venue!) The film had the potential to be both obtuse in its explications of the elder Everett's radical theories, as well as maudlin in following E through his childhood home. Much in keeping with the eels' style, though, it was neither; rather, it was pretty funny, even when E mentioned his sister's suicide or finding his father's dead body. I think my favorite part of the movie was when E listened to old recordings, including one of his father, complete with incidental backing track of the young Mark Oliver Everett on drums.



The musical portion of the evening also avoided your typical rock cliches. E and the Chet manned any of a number of instruments arranged in a circle around the stage: guitars, drums, a piano, a pump organ, a celeste, and even a musical saw. The arrangement reminded me a bit of a certain club in Los Angeles, especially when the two of them switched off drumming duties in the middle of a song and when the Chet took over the vocals for a Led Zeppelin tune.

Aside from this detour, the eels' catalog got a good workout, as they bashed out old favorites such as "I Like Birds," "Climbing to the Moon," "My Beloved Monster," and "Novocaine for the Soul," as well as deep album cuts. Supplementing the musical contributions were the voice of a god-like figure, the Chet's dramatic reading of selections from E's memoirs, and E hilariously sharing recent fan mail and concert reviews. I gotta hand it to them for giving us a true multimedia experience!

Legend has it that Bobby Jr. and his human companion can often be spotted traversing Hillhurst. With any luck, they'll take a detour out to Fairfax Avenue some time before Largo pulls up its roots. I'm not holding my breath, but as any eels show will prove, stranger things can happen.

See also:
» it's been said many times, many ways
» i like birds...and eels

a verse, then a verse, and refrain

The ads for these 826 Writing Centers benefits claimed that the shows would address the age-old question of which is better: words or music. OK, maybe it isn't Sophie's Choice, but a lot of us would be hard-pressed to cite one over the other.

Revenge of the Book Eaters, Palace of Fine Arts, August 28, 2006: Maudie, Trish, and I speculated about the format of the evening's proceedings, but not too surprisingly, it rolled out a little like a variety show, only without dancers or ventriloquists. Even Jonathan Richman stopped short of turning on the twinkle toes.

What we did get was the perpetually hilarious Patton Oswalt as the master of ceremonies, opening the show and interspersing short comedy routines between acts. Over the course of the evening, he brought out Dave Eggers and Sarah Vowell for the literary content, as well as Zach Rogue, Mark Kozelek, the aforementioned Jonathan Richman, and Aimee Mann for the musical component.

To be more specific, Dave Eggers introduced a film about the writing centers, whereas Sarah Vowell read an essay about her new favorite explorer, with Patton Oswalt pulling overtime in the role of the beloved pioneer. During the intermission, the two publishing titans offered hugs (Dave) and buddy punches (Sarah) in the lobby for anyone willing to pay the price.

The musical guests were what really drew me in, and they ran hot and cold. I haven't seen Zach Rogue since Rogue Wave opened for Spoon a few years ago. Tonight, he was in good voice, and his indie pop definitely translated to the solo acoustic treatment. He even dared to subject us to a song with admittedly awful lyrics, and overall, he kicked off the proceedings with charm.

I can't say the same for Mark Kozelek, whose music and delivery, we all agreed, were way too soothing for a room of that size. He also confirmed for me that I need never see him in concert again, if the two previous shows I've seen hadn't already convinced me.

Patton was pretty gaga over Jonathan Richman, but to be honest, he's a taste I haven't acquired. To these uninformed ears, he sounded as he always does, and you either love him or you don't.

Patton had introduced Jonathan Richman as a living legend, and he poured on even more love for the headliner, Aimee Mann, whom he called one of the greatest songwriters we have. Considering he and Aimee have longtime professional ties, his words were somewhat expected, but he might as well have been reading my mind; in my highly suspect opinion, no other modern artist epitomizes the words/music balance as well as Aimee.

This is actually the third time I've seen Aimee since April, a pretty high concert count for me. Though I always look forward to her gigs, I'm wary of potential disappointment. I'm happy to say that the Palace of Fine Arts was a much more hospitable environment for her than Stern Grove, but of course, it was no contest compared to Largo. (I know, I know--always with the Largo! Make it stop!)

As the headliner, Aimee got a little more time than the others, so she and Paul Bryan (a fixture from her touring band) hit six songs, almost evenly distributed across her discography. In the hushed room, we didn't miss a syllable of her finely wrought wordplay, and tonight, her voice had more of a growl than I've heard before, especially during "You're With Stupid Now," thus better punctuating her barbed lyrics. Aimee herself said she was honored to do what she could for the writing centers, and among other compliments, she revealed that Dave Eggers was a "world-class whistler." Unfortunately, his wife and Sarah Vowell talked him out of joining Aimee onstage for a whistle solo.

I don't think we reached a definitive answer on the question that kicked off these shows, though I wouldn't say we expected one either. Maybe we'll just have to do this again before we find out.

See also:
» less a deluge than a drought
» i'm the stuff of happy endings
» you're my favorite faith healer
» the Book of Brion 2 has landed

news travels fast

I'm gonna do this, dammit. I'm gonna stay up-to-date with my posts, even if no one's reading.

Finn Brothers, Palace of Fine Arts, February 14, 2005: Tonight was the Finn Brothers show at the Palace of Fine Arts. I'm gonna skip the ordeal I went through to get there. For almost anyone else, I might have just gone home. Then again, for almost anyone else, I wouldn't have bothered picking up tix in the first place. But it was Neil Finn, one of the few childhood idols I still care for and who has never disappointed me. There was no debate on this one.

The show itself sold out in an amazingly short time, especially considering that they couldn't sell out the Warfield last time they were in town, last July. Then again, that was either before or just as the album saw its official release--the wheels had not been greased just yet. Maybe it was all those nostalgic couples who've reserved a special place in their memories for "Don't Dream It's Over" and wanted to cement the reputation of that song with a Valentine's Day show. Regardless, the tix were hot properties on craigslist, and I was glad to see the brothers getting some recognition.

I got in just as they were in the middle of the first song, "Weather with You," and found my seat. The Palace of Fine Arts is fairly intimate, so my place in Row K wasn't bad at all. As promised, this was a more stripped-down tour. Neil and Tim had only Tim Smith in their backup band (the brothers from the last round were gone), and Tim had his percussive setup of a couple of drums right in front of him. The brothers seemed to have only a couple of guitars each, but a baby grand piano sat to the side of their space. The three of them took up maybe one-third of the stage.

Apparently, Neil was quite sick and nursed all sorts of homeopathic elixirs. A couple of times, he left the stage completely. He sounded great, but his energy could've been a little higher. Perhaps the oddest thing occurred during a lovely version of "Throw Your Arms Around Me," when the PA went out. The performers couldn't tell, as they were getting all their sound from the monitors, but a few of us giggled bemusedly. At the end of the song, they were informed of the problem and took to their feet, with Neil trying to get us to sing, while Tim broke out in a small Shakespearean soliloquy. Somewhere in there is a lesson on how they differ from each other.

I'm hopelessly biased, and I did enjoy the show, though it was a different vibe from all the other shows I've seen, where I'm on my feet and cheering at the front. But they have a good rapport. In the past, I've definitely seen shows where it seems like they can't find a common conversation to save their lives, but the jibes and the compliments went both ways. Tim Smith was really cool, and he's obviously found a niche as part of the team. I hate to say this, but "Don't Dream It's Over" was, for lack of a better word, dreamy, with a slightly new arrangement. Over the years, Neil has stripped down the song more and more, and he usually gives it the solo guitar treatment, though he introduced some keyboards on the last tour. Tonight, he built it up a little more. I just think it still sounds so beautiful, and if it guarantees that Neil will always enjoy some royalties for the rest of his life, the more power to him. They didn't do a lot of songs from the new album, but once again, "Edible Flowers" turned out to be one of my favorite tracks. Perhaps that's not so surprising, however, given my penchant for those soaring Neil bridges.

One small confession: Throughout most of the night, I kept thinking back to just a few weeks ago, when we were singing "I Got You" and "Six Months in a Leaky Boat" to Jeff Tweedy's guitar accompaniment. ;) I wanted so badly to tell Neil about it, but given his health, I didn't want to make undue demands of him.

I didn't bring a camera tonight, and it's probably for the better, as I was too far to get a decent shot. I hope the people in the front managed some pics, though, because the lighting was beautiful. And I can't even remember how many times I've seen Neil Finn, in all his incarnations, at this point, but I don't expect this habit to die anytime soon.