i have no idea how this happens

Originally, only Wilco's Berkeley and Los Angeles dates were on the docket, but then a great rate to Seattle popped up, which pretty much sewed up Portland too. Along the way, Judy went behind my back to lure me to Vancouver (thanks!), and Paul magically summoned up awesome seats for Santa Barbara. After all that, Denver didn't seem so outlandish. Totally justified, right?

Wilco, Fillmore Auditorium, Sept. 1-2, 2007: I love a multiple-night stand by a good band, so one by my favorite group is golden, and it's something Wilco doesn't do often--especially in a general admission venue--these days. Never mind that the Fillmore Auditorium in Denver bears little resemblance to my beloved Fillmore (the original) in San Francisco; it was somewhat of a relief to be in a club setting again after all those outdoors shows.

But at the start, the signs were ominous. We tramped in from the hot, humid pavement to a hot, humid club seemingly crammed with drunken assholes who were either whooping inappropriately or trying to cop a feel. OK, that's a broad generalization based on two obnoxious individuals in the front row, and in the case of the loudmouth, several other audience members were united in trying to get him to shut the fuck up. Richard Swift in his opening set was also subject to the asshole's ridiculous outbursts, but he handled him pretty well.

By the time Wilco took the stage, order--or at least what passes as such at a typical rock show--had been restored, and we could comfortably fix our attention on the band. For this first outing, we heard a couple of rarer tracks: "Radio Cure," the song that was, for me, the earliest indicator of the transformations Nels would wrought not only to Wilco's back catalog but eventually to gestating titles as well; and "How to Fight Loneliness," which hasn't excited me in a while, but with its seductive beat, it made for a great transition into "Spiders" tonight.



I did catch a Wilco double-header in May, and there wasn't a whole lot of variation. However, I'm not sure it counts, as it wasn't for an American audience, and it was early in the tour. Regardless, I'm open to possibilities, even the confounding ones.



My concerns proved groundless, as the band kicked out a keen complement to the first night's show, with surprises in the setlist and from the players themselves. The requisite showcase tracks were further bolstered by the thinner but more dedicated crowd. Remember that "Impossible Germany" veneration I threatened in the first post of this tour? You're getting it now because the version tonight was one for the ages; I don't know if it had to do with Nels's recovery, but his guitarwork exceeded its typical elegance at the Fillmore Auditorium; I could've ridden that melody back to San Francisco, I think. The best part? Even when Nels finishes his solo, you still have the payload of Jeff and Pat's interplay awaiting.



Nels also took the (prat)fall twice in the show: first at the end of "Walken," when he fell off his stool, then during "Spiders" when he jumped from his table of implements. The drop to the stage isn't exactly precipitous, but his descent was complicated by the musical cue he had to hit between flight and landing. Thus, once again, we found Nels on his back as he and the band played on. From our side of the stage, all we could see were a pair of steel-toed boots and stripey socks sticking out behind the monitors, but any resemblance to the Wicked Witch of the West stopped there.

The lesser played "What Light" (but no "Either Way" for either show) made the cut tonight, and Being There representation fell to "Forget the Flowers" and "Red-Eyed and Blue/I Got You." Even the previous two albums yielded unexpected choices in "Company in My Back" and "Poor Places/Reservations."



One of the bigger musical twists of the night came from an unexpected source: Mermaid Avenue. "Hesitating Beauty" is not a personal favorite, and at one point, it was the tune most likely to make me grit my teeth. But Nels went to town on this one, at first staying faithful to the song's twangy flavor but adding a layer of his patented frenzied fretwork and maybe forging a new genre (noisefolk?) in the process. Even the rest of the band was moved enough to look at him in astonishment, almost as if hearing him for the first time.

"California Stars" brought out departing openers Richard Swift and his right-hand man Casey Foubert. This effortless tune was a good match for the two players, especially Casey, who (with some encouragement) dashed off the best adaptation of the melody that I heard on the tour (sorry, Bill Frisell and Peter Buck). The performance capped off a great two-night stretch for Richard and Casey; they sounded amazing at the Fillmore, much more so than they did at any of the big outdoor venues on the rest of this tour. The second night, they even tried a brand-new song.



I'm home now for a few days, and this blog will eventually return to concert reports by bands other than Wilco or that other guy I like so much, though not immediately. In fact, September should be pretty good around these parts, so keep checking back. And, as always, thanks for reading.

See also:
» back in your old neighborhood
» a gift given accidentally
» don't let anyone say it's wrong
» much too busy to worry
» waiting for a postcard
» i wasn't that night

waiting for a postcard

Reporting in for my third--and most extensive--tour of duty yet on Wilco's Sky Blue Sky tour, but also, the first one sort of in my general region of the world. Warning: My umpteenth account of why I love "Impossible Germany" every time I hear it may or may not resemble coherent English at this point, so feel free to stay away from this blog for a couple of weeks.

Wilco, Malkin Bowl, August 20, 2007: Judy pulled the dirtiest (i.e., nicest) trick in the book to lure me to this show: She bought me a ticket when I was still officially on the fence! Granted, I had already booked a cheap, extremely early morning flight to Seattle for that same day, so it was no hardship to amend my plans. So long, "free" day in Seattle; hello, my first ever trip to Canada!

First things first: There was catching up to do, a beautiful baby girl to coo over, and gelato to eat, all of which we dispatched of at a decent rate before hitting Stanley Park. This venue, like the others in the Pacific Northwest for this tour, would hearken back to the Pines Theater in Northampton. That is, it was an outdoor space in a park. Judy explained that Malkin Bowl is often used for Shakespeare and other dramatic productions, and the stage was a slightly awkward fit for a rock show. Also, because of the day's rainfall, the band's equipment was pushed back under the roof, adding up to what felt like a chasm between the audience and the musicians.

Perhaps this rather large gulch separating us from the group led to my initial impressions of the show as starting off at a leisurely, unassuming pace. "Pot Kettle Black" is still fresh enough again that it's sure to prick up my ears, but it took "Too Far Apart" to blow our expectations out of the water. A quick check on Wilcobase shows that the last time the song was played was at one of my first Wilco shows ever, back in 2000.



Jeff claimed that the Wayback Machine wouldn't be in operation anymore that night, and that song alone might've buoyed us through the rest of the show. However, the band instead broke out "Red-Eyed and Blue/I Got You," which was a first for me with this lineup, followed by "Monday," though Jeff forgot the lyrics and we were of absolutely no use to him (Paul, because he didn't project enough; me because I never remember lyrics under pressure).

Of course, one of the bigger questions for us was Nels and his recent bout with the chicken pox. Earlier reports indicated that he was well and as incendiary as ever, and I'm happy to corroborate those claims. He hasn't missed a beat--or, rather, a lick.



Richard Swift opened the show with a short set: only 25 minutes or so, encompassing just a half dozen songs. I'd seen part of his show earlier this year and liked what I heard of his brand of singer/songwriter-based material. Without a full band backing him, the songs were not quite as powerful, though his single supporting player filled in nicely on banjo, guitar, keyboard, and backing vocals.

See also:
» you were right about the stars
» singing songs about the weekend

singing songs about the weekend

I like my music recommendations to come with a personal touch--thus, my aversion to magazine reviews or even most music blogs, even in the age of downloadable MP3s, MySpace, and the like. Radio helps to a certain extent, but it has built-in shortcomings. So what's a new music junkie to do? Personally, I've come to rely on the word of trusted friends with a long history of music appreciation, many of whom I've met through the Wilco--if you will--community. These enthusiasts are some of the biggest music hounds I've ever met, and I love their dedication to seeking out new, unheralded bands and artists of nearly every genre, usually without reliance on dogma or regard to hipster cache or "buzz band" hype. Of course, it helps that we have relatively similar tastes, though we don't always agree. One area in which they've really opened my ears is with homegrown talent, which is how I made it to the David Vandervelde show this week.

David Vandervelde, the Rickshaw Stop, April 5, 2007: Greg over at captain's dead pimped out David Vandervelde a while ago, and after months of dilly-dallying, I finally got around to listening to the tracks. What I (and probably everyone else) heard: a major nod to T. Rex and the like. That opening track, "Nothin' No," is a scorcher, sounding a little like Wilco's "Kingpin," except without throwaway lyrics and backed by the Spider from Mars. (Some credit should probably go to Jay Bennett, who contributed to this recording.) The rest of the album is less blistering but ultimately more surprising, as it reveals delicate touches among its hot licks, culminating in an enchanting closing instrumental. The vocal similarities to Marc Bolan are undeniable, as well. Overall, this album has snuck up on me in the last few weeks.

As it turned out, the live translation had the subtlety of a sledgehammer. David and his two supporting players went for the jugular, forgoing the album's keyboards, bells, and organs in favor of raw, bluesy jams. The guitar solos, in particular, came on heavy and sludgey. If the album brought to mind Electric Warrior and Aladdin Sane, the live performance veered closer to the era's cock rockers. As such, the band got out only six or seven songs in their already truncated opening slot, and in fact, a couple of songs weren't even from the album. But we heard that slamming opening track, as well as the very lovely "Murder in Michigan," so the crowd was exposed to some of the band's range.

I just read the other day that David and crew are slated to open some dates with Spoon later this spring, and it'll be interesting to see how their live show evolves. I'd be up for revisiting this group.

I managed to catch a couple of songs from the first opener of the night, a local guy named Peter Walker and band, who churned out serviceable, hook-laden rock. I also stuck around for Richard Swift, the headliner--who turned out to be really good. My CD budget (and attention span) aren't what they used to be, so I most likely won't seek out the Swift catalog, but the group's full, bouncing tunes provided a lovely backdrop for the night and brought to mind the best singer/songwriters from the '70s.