people say i'm crazy doing what i'm doing

Look, I don't know how long we'll keep doing this either, but while we have the excuse, we'll continue to get together for our little show with Jeff Tweedy. This year, we had a change in venue, moving out to the Chicago suburbs at Casa K&A. Inevitably, roll call yielded new names too. Otherwise, you know where to find us: Turn left at Greenland Find the dinner table buckling under the weight of the potluck, then head downstairs.

Jeff Tweedy, Casa K&A, April 21, 2012: I know I say this each time, and you don't have to believe me, but this show is different every year. For one thing, the poster order didn't go in, so we held a massive craft session in which we created our own artistic commemorations of the evening. For another, I attempted opera cake cupcakes this year, and I'm happy to report I didn't take a single crumb home with me.

On a more musically related, er, note, the setlist is easily the most malleable element of any of these gatherings, and I don't mean it in the way Wilco swaps out blocs of tracks from night to night on a tour. As Jeff noted at the Largo talk with Jeff Garlin back in January, we have a habit of requesting songs he can't play. This is not at all a malicious move or our own version of Punked; for better or for worse, we veterans have a habit of digging deep into album tracks, covers, and rarities. However, we're also prepared to amend our picks if they turn out to be unfeasible.

I'm going to say it: The show started out a little rough, maybe because of the downbeat song selection, the unpredictable chemistry of the new cast in the smaller space, Jeff not remembering his own lyrics, that broken string on his guitar. But by the end of the evening, some three hours later, it had managed to come together with the kind of good feeling that reminds us why we do it every chance we get.

You can't blame me for harking back to those otherwise unheard gems, even if the rest of the setlist would light up any regular show. Come on -- "Radio King," "More Like the Moon," an acoustic "Impossible Germany," and our harmonies of "ELT" would comprise one of the greatest gigs ever on any other night. A couple of other selections -- "On and On and On" and "What Light" -- surprised me too for their power when belted out in a cozy room with no other amplification.

"You Are Not Alone" (Rob's pick) continues to mesmerize, maybe due to its relatively infrequent airings, but tonight, we also got a couple of Mavis-related yarns, including more confirmation of Jeff's work on her next record. We got some funny studio scoops, but more amazing was the demo he played featuring Spencer on drums and a friend on vocals. I can't wait to hear the final product.

For our purposes, they were all lovely, but it was hard to overlook known Beatles freak Jeff W.'s request for "Watching the Wheels," which was achingly wonderful in the solo acoustic treatment, especially matched to Jeff's trademark scratchy vocals. I tip my hat to Jeff for requesting it. I hope it doesn't sound too self-serving to highlight my pick for "I'm Beginning to See the Light," which occupies a spot on my list of songs Jeff can do at Largo and have, say, certain L.A. musical talents join in.

I'd also like to commend Paul for choosing "Give Back to the Key to My Heart." I can't believe it's taken this long for the suggestion to come up, but is it any surprise that the valet surfaced with the brilliant idea? I'm skipping over a ton of great tunes, but there's no way I can cover every single one in this blog (nor would you want me to).



The finale came about with some engineering from our audience and Jeff, who decided on the sequence of the last two songs. The penultimate track was a duet with our good friend Martin Rivas for Bill Withers' "Use Me," which Jeff learned on the spot. The last last track was our traditional closer of "Candyfloss," with as much of a dance party as we could manage as we stood elbow to elbow. I guess we're just old-fashioned that way.

The full history
» i wish that i knew what I know now
» the message
» all the ladies and gentlemen
» that year
» springtime comes
» turn our prayers to outrageous dares
» every day is dreamlike
» it's been a while

the only dancer i believe in

As promised (?), I'm sticking to a more normal and perhaps even consistent concert schedule these days with my second show in a row -- not only in town, but also at the Fillmore and with an out-of-town visitor, no less. This time, it was the triple bill of, er, Of Montreal, Deerhoof, and Kishi Bashi.

Of Montreal, the Fillmore, March 22, 2012: I really shouldn't wait a week to write these things, but even if I had managed to commit my immediate reactions to this blog, it wouldn't have been the most enlightening account. Truth be told, I haven't been following Of Montreal very closely since their association with that dude in Los Angeles has cooled down. But the glimpses I've seen of the band were intriguing, and combined with the appealing openers, the legendary venue, and a willing houseguest, I figured I might as well go to the show.

My Of Montreal ignorance didn't prevent me from enjoying the spectacle of the show. The Fillmore is nowhere as big as the Fox, where I last saw the band, but they managed to fit everyone and their instruments, while still allowing room for the extracurricular aspects of their act. It also made me wonder how they squeezed in at the Slim's show the night before!



This tour's accessories included several screens set in front of each band member's station, and a couple more at the back of the stage for video projections. Later, the band's roster of dancers/actors joined them for their choreographed moves and interactions. Early in the show, they released balloon-filled bags to the audience, though only after striking their poses as human billboards at the front of the stage for a good stretch. As the show progressed, these auxiliary players changed costumes, and toward the end of the evening, they enacted a small drama between two pig-faced villains and a pansexual being. (Man, I'm good at sucking the fun out of a concert.) Oh, they crowdsurfed too.



As for the music, I'm pretty sure I've mentioned before that you can easily rattle off a list of the band's influences -- but it doesn't matter when they manage to make it their own to such a degree. In a way, they remind me a lot more of the British bands I've liked rather than their American counterparts; then again, maybe I've been listening to the wrong U.S. musicians. In any case, I loved the nod to New Order, as Kevin Barnes dropped a couple of lines from "Temptation" into a song.

I may have been too overwhelmed by the party atmosphere last time to notice the darker and more introspective aspect of their music, but I couldn't miss them tonight. There were a couple of slow burners, but the one that made the biggest impression on me was "No Conclusion," marked by the unforgettable opening line "Tonight I feel like I should just destroy myself." Throughout much of the evening, I was trying to pinpoint exactly how Kevin Barnes and crew cast its spell on their young acolytes. Of course, it's easy to fall for the fun times, but you also have to dig into their lyrics, where Kevin expresses in no plain English many of same feelings, with the same passion as his listeners. From our vantage upstairs at the Fillmore, the fans ate it up.



Still, the introspection couldn't overshadow the buoyant encore in which they strung together a bunch of their most upbeat songs (I recognized "Gallery Piece"!). It's one of the oldest rules in show biz: Leave 'em wanting more. Of Montreal certainly did.

I first saw Deerhoof at the Sonic Youth-curated version of All Tomorrow's Parties at UCLA in 2002. Maybe I'll admit to more of my shortsightedness at this festival in future posts, but I can confess Deerhoof didn't make a good impression on me at that show. Since then, Deerhoof has been all over the place, and they've even nurtured a relationship with that band I love.



Unbeknownst to me, they've been rocking it out too! The guy seated behind us compared Greg Saunier to a Muppet, based on his propulsive drumming moves. I fully endorse that comment, but their guitarwork was nothing to scoff at either. I've been a fool to miss them for all this time, especially considering their local base, and I won't make that mistake again. Also, their shout-outs to both the Fillmore and to Of Montreal were adorable.

The very first performer of the evening was Kishi Bashi, another local talent who also happened to show up again in Of Montreal. At first, he gave off a strong Andrew Bird vibe, with his use of the violin and loopers, as well as an operatic scope to his songs. But when he started beatboxing, you knew that you should've checked your expectations earlier.

See also:
» really quite out of sight
» first-time high
» everybody's gotta learn sometimes
» still carries a torch

let's not fool ourselves

I don't want to make any promises, but my concert schedule may look more normal this year -- that is, I'll go to shows in town, and there could be some variety in the acts. Let's not get carried away, though; I'm not about to line up for the latest blogosphere sensations, and a certain amount of overlap is to be expected, which kind of explains how I made my way to see the Punch Brothers at the Fillmore.

Punch Brothers, the Fillmore, March 8, 2012: As has been well documented in this blog, I clear my calendar for Hardly Strictly Bluegrass every year, but my preferences tend to tip more hardly than strictly. Not that it has to be one or the other, but the Punch Brothers embodied this combination more than almost any other group I've seen recently.



This is hardly a new revelation, as I've seen the Punch Brothers and Chris Thile in several formations, including with Nickel Creek and as a solo artist, not to mention Gabe Wicher's visits to Largo. I honestly can't keep track of how many appearances and combinations I've caught at this point, though if I had to pick one notable engagement, it'd be the Little Room show from a few years ago. At each and every date, the artists ably showed off their appreciation and mastery of multiple genres and styles, a tradition that extended to the Fillmore.

I don't know the Punch Brothers' catalog well enough to report on actual song titles or the setlist, but even a casual listener could hear the difference between covers, the group's more traditional titles, and their version of pop music. Sure, they could kick out the likes of "Rye Whiskey," but they had no problem coaxing out the charming "Patchwork Girlfriend."

This breadth, combined with their snazzy threads and crowd-pleasing banter, called to mind an old-fashioned variety show. I couldn't help but think of similar setups I'd seen at Largo, except with fewer guests popping in. Also akin to those dates, they followed a familiar pattern of allowing each musician a solo turn.

Don't be mistaken, though -- the Punch Brothers have a frontman, and Chris Thile stepped up to that role with banter, responses to crowd interjections, and physical and vocal cues to his bandmates, as well as the majority of lead vocal duties. At the top of the evening, Chris introduced the opener Aoife O'Donovan with a heap of compliments, and the two took over for a song they'd co-written for the Goat Rodeo Session.



I love seeing bands make their Fillmore debut; they're, well, adorable as they take in the venue's history and bask in the glow of playing in such a legendary club. The Punch Brothers were no different, as they paid their respects to the building's incomparable track record.

Even better, the crowd did its part, and more than one band member remarked on the crowd's enthusiasm. Apparently, we'd done a good job of buying tickets, as evidenced by the requisite Fillmore poster handed out at the end of the evening. But even before that proof was offered, you could hear it for yourself, as we spontaneously clapped along to various tunes and egged on the group. This was the aspect of the Punch Brothers' performance I may have missed in earlier shows: that boisterous, unadulterated appreciation I hadn't quite picked up at Largo or Hardly Strictly. This is the reason you go to gigs.

But in case you need more justification to see the Punch Brothers live, you may be interested in the centerpiece (arguably) and virtuoso peak of the gig: the Radiohead/Gillian Welch one-two punch. I'm not a Radiohead fan, but the Punch Brothers are, as they've made clear. Additionally, Gillian Welch tunes are a mainstay of the band's sets.

Anyway, around the last third of the show, I noticed an abstract-sounding instrumental that I figured had to be a cover. They then segued into a song I know much better: "Wayside/Back in Time," probably chosen for the line referencing San Francisco. My hunch was confirmed by Noam Pikelny in his follow-up remarks, where he also recommended we check out the original artists. *wink*

See also:
» there's so much here to see
» don't get around much anymore
» broadminded