set a course that i don't know

Whew, how late and wholly unnecessary is this post? But I haven't abandoned this blog, dammit, so here are my notes on Teenage Fanclub at the Fillmore as part of Noise Pop.

Teenage Fanclub, the Fillmore, February 25, 2019: Thanks to whatever is happening in the music industry these days, I bought my ticket to this show probably five or six months in advance of the performance. I felt pretty silly about it at the time, knowing full well that my beloved Teenage Fanclub would not sell out the Fillmore. Heck, the last time they came to town, they had to move the gig to the Great American Music Hall, likely due to sales. But as a bona fide early freak, I figure it didn't hurt to vote with my consumer dollars, early and often.

The crowd actually filled out respectably -- not bad for a drizzly Monday night. I suspect the Noise Pop tie-in and promotion helped, but it was still nice to see so many lovely faces (including some younger ones) at the show.

The bigger source of trepidation came after buying my ticket: The band's announcement that Gerry Love would no longer tour with them. I adore Teenage Fanclub as a group, but if you forced me to pick whose tunes I love the most, I would make a long speech about the whole outweighing the sum of its parts ... then eventually choose Gerry as the driving force behind my favorite tunes. It's not an easy call, but I know that more than a few times, I'd hear a Teenage Fanclub song, reflect on its brilliance, and realize that Gerry wrote it. Here's an experiment: Listen to Grand Prix and try to imagine it without Gerry's contributions. Not a fun thought, is it?



But now having seen the retooled band, I have to admit that there may be a bright side to the new configuration. Teenage Fanclub has released so many albums, and the fans have so many favorite deep cuts, that inevitably, we can always name a song or two that we wish they had played but couldn't accommodate at the show. But now, Norman and Raymond have much more opportunity to dig into their catalog. For example, I can't remember when I last heard "Catholic Education" or "The Cabbage." And though it'd be irresponsible to guess at whether or not they missed Gerry's presence, both Norman and Raymond appeared to be in fine spirits all evening.

But never fear, they hit us with many of their classics, including the perennial opener "About You" (speaking of Grand Prix), "The Concept," and many more. I was particularly pleased to hear "Your Love Is the Place Where I Came From." Paul recently reminded me that Nick Hornby championed the tune in Songbook, but I swear that I loved it regardless. It really is a perfect encapsulation of Raymond's hangdog appeal wrapped up in a subtle, earnest number.

In addition, they played at least one new track from their recent recording session, again minus Gerry. To my surprise, it was fairly rocking -- maybe influenced by the recording environment in Hamburg, Germany. Who am I kidding? If they come back to the United States to tour that record, of course I'll grab a ticket.

One more recollection from the evening: As "Everything Flow" began and we old fogies jumped around a ton, I had a flashback to Teenage Fanclub shows of yore (at Slim's, I believe), when the song was pretty much a green light for the ex-pats in the audience to start moshing and shoving everyone around. I'm happy to report that they did not appear to be among us that night, and I for one don't miss them, but I kind of wonder where they might be now.

See also:
» ain't that enough

i will try to understand

Either way.

Jeff Tweedy, the Fillmore, October 5, 2018

Ahhh, back home, to the show I most wanted to see in the venue that I treasured the most, especially in comparison to the seated shows in Vancouver and Seattle. But fact ended up much stranger than fiction by the end of the night.

The evening started out well enough, the San Francisco's enthusiasm readily apparent. Jeff started with a bunch of new songs, and the crowd was receptive, if slightly more restless than the usual rapt audience. It was a Friday night, after all. I took Jeff's choice of playing unreleased tracks as a sign that he trusted the San Francisco audience enough to give them a chance. I think we did, for the most part, including for the languorous "Remember the Mountain Bed," though the typical interjections flew between songs.



I had brought my friend Dean, who was seeing Jeff solo for the first time. He was an Uncle Tupelo fan, so we were both thrilled to hear "New Madrid" early on. Later, he got to hear "Acuff Rose" during the encore for an extra treat.

I guess I might as well jump into the incident now. About halfway through the show, Jeff got into an extended exchange standing front and center. Believe it or not, I was off to the side, so I didn't quite understand what was happening immediately. Apparently, the man said something in support of Brett Kavanaugh's confirmation to the U.S. Supreme Court. They went back and forth for a little while, and from what I can recall, the man at one point said Kavanaugh "ratified Roe." Jeff's reply: "You don't know what 'ratify' means." (My aside: And even if he did, he's wrong because there's no way in hell that Kavanaugh will support Roe v. Wade in its current form.)

I can't tell you how long they debated, but it felt like forever, and we could see both Fillmore security and Jeff's tour manager moving toward the man. From my vantage point, I could see the guy doing the classic bully pose of pointing and jabbing his finger in Jeff's direction, as if physical intimidation is his normal go-to strategy. Jeff didn't back down from his own stance, and eventually, the guy was kicked out of the show, though his wife and preteen child stayed. Jeff gave the boy his harmonica and holder as a peace offering, though I don't know if it helped.

After the show, I heard from more than one friend who said Jeff probably let the scene go on for too long and that maybe he could've handled it with his more customary sense of caustic humor. All I can say is I admired Jeff's support and his affirmation. For many of us, the Kavanaugh hearings brought up cutting emotions. I'm not exaggerating when I say that I cried at my desk for many days over the testimony of Dr. Ford and the revelations from women who had gone through their own ordeals. Perhaps Jeff knew those feelings too, and perhaps they were as important to him. It's not often you hear from such a strong ally from his own platform like that.

As you can imagine, the confrontation hung over the rest of the show, though the man was gone. Jeff recovered as best he could, and it was the perfect time to bring out "Let's Go Rain," singalong and all. Even better, he played my request for "Either Way" right after. Yes, I admit I voted a few times on Wilco's website, but after Jeff's reports at the Pacific Northwest shows that people mostly voted for one song each, I figured I could stuff the ballot box a little. For the record, I think I cast a grand total of three votes. Plan accordingly if you want to rig the results on your own!

Also, I'm jaded and I've attended way too many Jeff and Wilco shows, but tonight "Jesus etc." was the perfect choice to follow the heckler, as were all the other songs we could sing along to.

I've seen lots of memorable shows at the Fillmore. Add this one to the list, though maybe not for the reasons I'd like.

See also:
» make something that no one else has
» the old buildings downtown empty so long ago

maybe it's time to live

I'm trying -- I'm really trying. Thus, I bought my ticket to see the eels at the Fillmore months ago ... and actually went to the show.

eels, the Fillmore, May 31, 2018

The wayback machine says I haven't seen eels since 2011, and it sure feels like it. E hasn't dropped in at Largo since the move to La Cienega, and I've missed at least one of their tours, if not more. It was time to turn that ship around.

On a related note, this drought meant I had no idea what to expect at the show. As I recall, eels have a penchant for the dramatic, and I guess we got a hint of that, with the risers and flood lights occupying the stage. But they left the flight suits, goggles, and whatnot at home, opting for a coordinated but workaday uniform. They emerged to the theme from Rocky, then jumped into a Who cover, followed by a Prince cover. I'll mention for the jillionth time that I've had the pleasure of hearing E perform "Raspberry Beret" several times at Largo, on some occasions with better recall than others. It doesn't get old.

Now that the eels have 20-plus years and more than a dozen albums under their belt, it's hard to know what songs they'd roll out from their catalog. And to be honest, I haven't kept up with the more recent releases, so it was a treat for me to hear so many selections across the discography. My favorite is probably Electro-Shock Blues, so "Climbing to the Moon" and "P.S. I Love You" are more than welcome. But the inclusion of tracks like "A Magic World" come as nice surprises too.



I had forgotten how much eels like to change up their tracks, so even the essentials and old-school hits such as "Novocaine for the Soul" and "I Like Birds." Going back to Largo memories: E always lit up at the prospect of Led Zeppelin covers, so when one particularly heavy intro rolled out, I wondered if we were dipping into some good ol' 1970s AOR. Instead, it was the former MTV hit video in an arrangement I can't recall hearing at previous gigs, though perhaps it was closer to Sabbath than Zeppelin. The overall effect was the same [insert rawk emoji].

One of the bigger surprises of the show was the fact that E has finally leaned hard into his love of Prince. Somewhere in the archives, I have a bootleg of a show at Largo where he sang "If I Was Your Girlfriend," and I've been there personally when he turned down the request, claiming he didn't actually know the words. He didn't do the song this time, but "When You Were Mine" was a fine substitute. Prince's death hit so many of us hard; I don't know if it's a tribute, but it's always a treat. We also heard the band take on "Love and Mercy," another song I'll never turn off.

Here's to 20-plus years of eels, in all of their weirdness and unpredictability. I hope that never changes.

See also:
» before i sputter out
» i'm offering this simple phrase
» i go for it every time

may you find out who you are

Those of us who see shows in San Francisco often get to witness a milestone on a regular basis: a band's first Fillmore headlining slot. It happened again, as Kevin Morby and band took the stage. They lived up to the billing and the occasion.

Kevin Morby, the Fillmore, April 5, 2018

I don't write about opening bands much anymore, partly because I'm lazy and partly because they haven't been inspiring to me. But one of the better openers I've seen in a while is Kevin Morby, first at Wilco's five-night Fillmore stand, then at Solid Sound. He was definitely the best of the rotating list of opening bands we saw that week, and even then, a friend from Los Angeles with a singer/songwriter husband said he was getting a ton of buzz in SoCal. But Solid Sound, er, solidified his standing. In short, he and his band sounded fantastic, and I knew I had to check them out when they came back around. Alas, I missed that opportunity, as his show at the Great American Music Hall sold out before I could get a ticket. Thankfully, you can often count on repeat visits to San Francisco.

Last time they came to the Fillmore, Kevin and gang squeezed in to the relatively small patch of stage available to them between Wilco's instruments, monitors, pedals, cables, and whatnot. Now they spread out across as much of the stage as they wanted, which is always a sight to behold. I don't actually remember how many people were in the band on that visit, but Kevin introduced one member (a man on violin) as new -- so that's one upgrade. Another upgrade: Kevin's fantastic custom suit. I seriously can't get enough of it.

I'm going to come clean: I don't know much of Kevin's work before the current album, though I've listened enough to recognize his song on the Volvo commercial. But combine that with the handful of live shows I've heard via podcast, I knew I had to go the show.

As you might expect, Kevin favored songs from the new record, and if you allow me to indulge for a moment in playing Spot the Influences, I'd like to mention that "Crybaby" reminds me so much of the Pixies, especially when guitarist Meg Duffy's vocals come in. I mean that in the best way! Honestly, all the songs off City Music were awesome, and we danced all over the place to them.

Regarding the aforementioned Volvo ad, it features the song "Harlem River," and of course he did it, though the crowd didn't treat it as anything special or unusual. But it got me to thinking again about what constitutes pop music and indie music. In my world, tracks such as "City Music" and "Crybaby" would be huge hits, and maybe headlining a show at the Fillmore is a pretty good mark of success. As a fan, I can't complain about getting to see the band at this point in their development, and truth be told, I don't enjoy bigger venues. Still, a part of me wants more people to know how great they are. Sigh -- it's the eternal struggle.

Though I wasn't familiar with Kevin's back catalog, I had no problem getting into the older songs he played. The two that stood out most to me were "Parade" and "Beautiful Strangers" (the latter performed as a solo acoustic track at the end of the main set). Both have a generally hopeful air and lush, developing storylines that you don't really want to end. The audience even joined in with impromptu clapping on "Beautiful Strangers" to support Kevin. (My immediate thought: Jeff Tweedy would tell them to stop.) I was smitten.

Katie Crutchfield from Waxahatchee joined the band for a couple of songs at the end of the main set. The first was "Downtown's Lights," and together, the two added extra twang to the track, sounding not unlike a modern version of Johnny Cash and June Carter. The other tune was a cover of Jason Molina's "The Dark Don't Hide It," which I understand they've been performing regularly and have released as a single for charity.



During the show, Kevin mentioned their earlier opening slots at the Fillmore, first with Real Estate and more recently with Wilco. Those of us who were there let him know when he asked if anyone had gone to the shows. Then he added that the Fillmore gig was the most tickets they've sold to a show in North America. It comes as no surprise to me that Kevin could be bigger in Europe than in the United States, as evidenced by the fellows next to me who reported that they had first seen him in Paris (France, not Texas). Though the venue wasn't completely sold out, the crowd was enthusiastic and just shy of a crush. It was the best of all worlds, and more important, we let the band understand exactly how much we loved having them in town. We even got a hallowed custom Fillmore poster at the end of the night.

Meg Duffy and her two-person band Hand Habits opened, and she was just as good on her own as she is with Kevin's group. Her guitar skills color the songs so vividly, and in some cases, she takes them past the "folk" label that many people seem to want to lazily apply to Kevin. She closed her set with "The Only Living Boy in New York." To sum up: It was a perfect night, and I can't wait to do it again.

See also:
» always hated normal american kids
» so flattered by fate

all around me a voice was sounding

Hey, look -- my first concert of 2018! Thanks to Dave Rawlings and company for the invite.

Dave Rawlings, the Fillmore, March 1, 2018

I'm officially at the point where I've seen Dave Rawlings and Gillian Welch so much that I can no longer recall who headlined at the latest show I attended. Of course, this comes with a couple of caveats: (1) That may be my middle-age senility setting in, and (2) A surfeit of Gill and Dave is a nice problem to have.

The latest Dave Rawlings record got me thinking about how much this band, outfit, arrangement, what have you has evolved over the years. After listening to so many spare, stripped Gillian Welch albums, as well as Dave's naturalistic works, you can hear the more modern production on Poor David's Almanack. "Cumberland Gap," in particular, jumps out at me -- the keyboard, especially. Dave and Gill trading verses sent my mind to Fleetwood Mac, though friends cited "Ohio" by Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young.

This, in turn, led me to reflect on the growth of Dave Rawlings as a frontman. I imagine Dave played plenty of gigs around Nashville when he and Gill were starting out, but I don't think he truly embarked on his own until the last decade or so. I'll brag about this to my dying day, but I was extremely fortunate to have caught Dave and Gill so often when they played Largo regularly at both the old and new locations. Many of those gigs were under Dave's name, so I've been able to witness his act develop and his catalog grow.

Those Largo shows were special, but their visit to the Great American Music Hall on what was probably the first true tour under Dave's name also stands out. We were giddy that night, as San Francisco poured out its long-established love for Gillian Welch onto David. I can still feel the joy streaming from both the performers and the audience.

Obviously, there have been many shows between then and now, but as they took the stage this night, they seemed like a true band for the first time in my memory. The setup is still pretty sparse, with no drum kit or even amps, but heck, Gillian and violinist Brittany Haas wore dresses in matching fabric!

They opened with a rollicking "Lily, Rosemary, and the Jack of Hearts" from Bob Dylan, and as you can imagine, the crowd ate it up. In my opinion, the first half of the show was oddly paced, partly because they don't exactly excel in onstage banter and partly due to song selection. They went with mostly tracks from the new record, but threw in Gill's "Wayside/Back in Time" for the local angle.

They took their usual intermission, and the pace seemed to pick up during the second half, though to their credit, I haven't shared much of their funnier moments. For example, Gill revealed to us that she had slashed her finger just before the show and was relying on glue to keep the bleeding at bay. Also, both Willie Watson and Gill worked a small set of bongo drums for separate songs, and Willie did a few tunes too.

"Miss Ohio" got its obligatory turn during the second set, but believe it or not, it wasn't the highlight. Instead, it was a song from Old Crow Medicine Show ("Hear Them All") married to the Woody Guthrie classic "This Land Is Your Land," and let me tell you -- it feels like we need that song more than ever these days. No one had to say anything else; our voices singing together did all the talking. Another fun moment from the second set: the aforementioned Brittany Haas trading in her violin for a guitar (on a song whose name I can't remember). Guess what? She was really good. Also, Dave at one point played electric guitar, which never happens at Gill's shows.

But they truly saved the best for last, as they tore through an encore sequence that included a Radiohead cover ("Black Star"), another Dylan cover ("Queen Jane Approximately"), and a Bright Eyes/Neil Young medley ("Method Acting"/"Cortez the Killer"). The last two songs were especially punishing, and for the umpteenth time, I marveled at how they wrench so much tension from that Dylan track. For the third and final encore, they went into a five-person version of "Go to Sleep You Little Baby" (a first for me), and we thought it was over -- but no! They brought back "Jack of Hearts" to bring it full circle.

Dave looked exhausted as they truly bade us good night, for good reason. I hope our cheers and applause let him know that we appreciated every ounce of sweat he poured out onstage.

And finally, one more memory of the night I'd like to share. See you again soon!

“The human rhythm section.” Great photo by @pneyu from 3rd encore at the Fillmore. . . #davidrawlings #gillianwelch #williewatson #didntleavenobodybutthebaby

A post shared by Gillian Welch (@gillianwelchofficial) on Mar 7, 2018 at 11:41am PST

See also:
» i remember standing by the wall
» that's all they really want
» hotter than a pepper sprout

every word seemed to date her

Thus begins Hardly Strictly weekend in San Francisco, though I didn't make it to the festival at all. Fortunately, there was tons of music in the Bay, starting with Gillian Welch at her annual show at the Fillmore.

Gillian Welch, the Fillmore, October 6, 2017: I don't know how it happened, but it seemed like nobody got tickets to this show via the regular channels and ended up paying high prices on the secondary market. But thanks to a friend, I made it in at face value for a great start to the night.

Anyway, this show has been an annual tradition for a while, as either Gillian Welch or Dave Rawlings grace the Fillmore with a gig around the time of Hardly Strictly. They don't even need new material because the audience is so dedicated around here, but this date was dedicated to promoting the vinyl release of The Harrow & The Harvest -- which was released six years ago?! Where has the time gone?! Of course we'll take any excuse to see the duo.

I'm a hypocrite who's claimed I'm over musicians playing older albums in order, from track 1 all the way through, but this is now the second show I've seen of the variety. And you know what? I'd do it again if the right bands come through.

Truthfully, because I didn't have tickets in hand initially, I forgot who I was seeing that night -- Gill or Dave? But once the premise was established, I had no problem getting into the flow and appreciating the record (again). Time (The Revelator) is one of my all-time favorite records, and though the release dates don't match up, in my mind it's the companion piece to Wilco's Being There. The two records cemented my love of American folk music, and I haven't looked back. Perhaps because of my undying love for Gillian's earlier record, I can't say I enjoy The Harrow & The Harvest to the same extent, but it's hardly a slouch. The show was a welcome reminder of all the great tunes on the album and a kick in the pants to spin the songs more often.

As noted above, the duo ran down the song order exactly as tracked for the first half of the show, and as with the last time they toured the record, Gill reprised her dance for "Six White Horses." The one big difference I noticed between this performance and earlier shows: Gill was fairly talkative! For example, a fan in the crowd called out for "White Rabbit" during a quiet moment, to which Gill replied, "Would that I have wrote it," and offered us a "double suicide" song instead ("The Way It Will Be," I think). She also explained the genesis of her rhythm work in the song, as well as the rigorous process by which they chose the piece of plywood for her dancing and included an anecdote of her friend calling the routine "Girls Gone Wild in the 1800s."

Gillian Welch getting her “Girls Gone Wild in the 1800s” (per her friend) on 💃🏻

A post shared by pneyu (@pneyu) on Oct 6, 2017 at 11:26pm PDT

After a brief intermission, Gill and Dave went into old favorites, including my beloved "Revelator," as well as "Everything Is Free" and the obligatory San Francisco track "Wayside (Back in Time)." They honored Tom Petty with "Elvis Presley Blues" and cited their first time opening for Johnny Cash as the inspiration for "Dry Town." Speaking of Johnny, they went with "Jackson" in the encore. Though I can't point to a specific recording or example, I feel like they've been changing up their treatment of this song over the years. I remember a more traditional take on the song before, whereas now it's more a speedier rave-up, which I love all the same.

They rounded out the set with "I'll Fly Away," which is one of the few religious songs I enjoy singing, and their classic "Go to Sleep Little Baby," accompanied by Willie Watson, which marked the first time I've seen two men on the song, as opposed to the more typical predominantly female renditions I've seen. The tune didn't suffer in the least.

One more note on the show: We sang "Happy Birthday" to Gillian, as we've often done. I love being able to lend our voices to her celebration every year.

See also:
» when we came here today
» that's the way the cornbread crumbles

long shot

Use it or lose it -- and I need to maintain my editing skills now more than ever. Though I'm lagging, it's never too late for Aimee Mann at the Fillmore.

Aimee Mann, the Fillmore, May 12, 2017: Aimee Mann's records kind of sneak up on me. Mind you, she's my favorite lyricist, but her arrangements and production haven't soared to the same heights as I enjoyed in the past. But often a few years after their release, her albums are on my mind again, and this tour was no different. I've dived back into Lost in Space and The Forgotten Arm, and they haven't disappointed. Lost in Space, especially, is so beautifully crafted and a pleasure to rediscover. At this rate, it may take me a few more listens to truly appreciate Mental Illness, though that's more a comment on my attention span than on Aimee's skills.

The changes from tour to tour and album to album are subtle, but Aimee has a way of building on each iteration of her career. Mental Illness is notable for Jonathan Coulton's contributions, and if you've paid attention to Aimee's career, you know he was in the cast of her last round of Christmas shows. On this record, he co-wrote a few songs, including one in which he purposely tried to mimic Aimee's tone, starting from the very first line -- which Aimee took as a compliment and an insult. Otherwise, Aimee's band remained the same, though I didn't recognize the drummer.

The show somewhat favored Aimee's new record, but I was more struck by the old singles and album cuts she chose. In fact, she opened with a couple of classics: "4th of July" and "Little Bombs," both of which I happen to love. She sort of sprinkled the newer tracks among the older tunes, and only now has it hit me that it probably had to do with bringing Jonathan Coulton into the show (more on that later).



Nonetheless, the selections from her back catalog were stellar. I could go on about the older tracks all day, but I'll single out three: "Humpty Dumpty" because as soon as they struck the opening notes, I realized it had been in in my head for the previous week and my subconscious had been yearning for it; "Long Shot" because it's so rare on her setlists; and "Deathly" because it's often overshadowed by more famous tracks from Bachelor No. 2, and it has my absolute favorite backing vocal (read: Jon Brion) on all of her songs. OK, consolation prize goes to "The Moth," another dirge dressed up in pop splendor from Lost in Space.

Jonathan Coulton joined the band for a good section of songs on the new album and to chat with Aimee. It's no surprise that they get along so well as two of the brainier songwriters around. Aimee has come a long way from her self-proclaimed awkward early days; her dry wit is a treat if you can keep up. Aimee had joined Jonathan during his opening set for a few songs and to remind everyone that her label was releasing his new album. Hey, we all gotta pay the bills, but it's gotta be nice if you can do it with friends.

The concert drove me to the perfect outcome: I've been reacquainting myself with Aimee's records -- I mean, more than usual -- and guess what? They're fantastic! Thanks, Aimee, for framing our darker thoughts in the shiniest chords.

See also:
» winter wonderland

to be young is to be sad

Gillian Welch and Dave Rawlings are two pillars of the Hardly Strictly Bluegrass Festival, so it's no surprise when they show up on the schedule and/or announce a show close to the date. Often, it's both, as was the case this year.

Dave Rawlings Machine, the Fillmore, Sept. 30, 2016: In the early days of the Dave Rawlings Machine, a lot of people simply assumed it was a Gillian Welch show under another name. Fortunately, expectations have changed, now that the Rawlings Machine has a discography and everything. The group also seems to have found a steady lineup, which is probably a good development for any band's continued growth. I enjoyed the spare, early shows as much as anyone, but I appreciate the growing differentiation between the projects.

Last time I saw the Rawlings Machine, the new record had recently come out, but with about a year since that show, the band had revised the setlist somewhat. We got a number of album tracks ("The Weekend," "Pilgrim," "Sweet Tooth"), as well as a few spotlights for Gillian ("Wayside/Back in Time," "Miss Ohio") and Willie Watson ("Keep It Clean"). Bassist Paul Kowert (also seen in Punch Brothers) and his deep bass tones even got a turn on the mic for "He Will Set Your Fields on Fire," which I've come to love in all its twangy glory. I should also mention they hit "Queen Jane Approximately" earlier in the show, and I totally clapped my hands and squealed when I recognized the song. However, they threw in a bunch of songs I didn't recognize at all, and I don't know if they were new tunes or traditional titles. With the Rawlings Machine, it can be very hard to tell.



As it was Hardly Strictly weekend, there was some question of which guests would drop in. One was fairly obvious from the beginning, and it happens, it was the only guest I wanted to see: Robyn Hitchcock, who had a couple of appearances scheduled at the festival.

It finally hit me this umpteenth time I've seen Robyn appear as a guest: maybe he's the dominant through line of my musical fandom? He ties my early love of British music to my current preference for folksier artists. Little did I know that the Soft Boys influenced such American bands as REM, Uncle Tupelo, and more. By the same token, I had no idea Robyn was steeped in Roxy Music, though that probably should've been a no-brainer for any UK musician of the time. Anyway, that's oversimplifying several decades of music fandom, but I can't resist the urge to trace a pattern.

With Robyn, they did "Goin' to Acapulco" and "The Weight," which were great but strangely anticlimatic compared to other amazing songs I've seen them do together.

The core crew closed out with the perennial "Didn't Leave Nobody but the Baby," all five of them gathered around the microphone. The classic formation, at least since they recorded it for O Brother, Where Art Thou?, usually incorporates female voices, but Dave and Gill have been able to adapt it to the singers around them. It's always a vision, as they all come together with nothing but their voices ringing out and their bodies (hands, feet) for percussion.

I hope they continue to grace us with their annual visits.

See also:
» that's all they really want
» pretty please with sugar on top

always hated normal american kids

The dream is real! Wilco finally brought its five-night residency to San Francisco at, even better, the Fillmore. To be sure, Wilco has a long history of multinight stands at the Fillmore and the Bay Area in general, and this wasn't exactly the Incredible Shrinking Tour of Chicago, but I'll take the simpler arrangement anytime. More important, I lived to tell, so let's go with it.

Wilco, the Fillmore, Sept. 6-7, 9-11, 2016: I've mentioned this factoid approximately a million times on this blog, but in this case, it's worth repeating. My first live Wilco experience was a three-night stand at the Fillmore back in 2000, in support of Mermaid Avenue Vol. II. I had fallen in love with the band's music, particularly Being There, and decided to go to all three shows. Keep in mind: None of my friends at the time liked or even knew about the band, and I'd never them live, not to mention I was still deeply into British music. But anyone who knows me knows I tend to go for all or nothing. I was all in, and clearly, it was one of the best music-related decisions in my life -- because here we are.

At the time we bought tickets, I don't think anyone of us knew the shows would be in support of a new record. And I honestly don't care anymore. If Wilco is playing a reasonably sized venue in town, I'm there. I have faith that they'll figure out a setlist with at least a few beloved deep tracks or offer new arrangements that will awaken my ears.



Even after the news that we'd hear a lot of Schmilco at the shows, my expectations didn't change a lot. Of course I looked forward to the new material, but we Wilco fans aren't married to the album-tour-album-tour cycle. Besides, Wilco has enough songs that they're sure to surface a bunch of underappreciated tracks at any show.

Anyway, this happens to be my favorite way of hearing new music: the live experience. As of this writing, I bought Schmilco today (Sept. 15), but I still don't know all the titles. Of course, I recognize a bunch of songs they played at the shows, and I'm amazed at the transformation to the live form. As with Star Wars, I'm glad I got to hear the music crafted from the ground up in front of me before I had a chance to get comfortable with their studio renditions.

I was lucky enough to go to the original five-night residency (which almost killed me), and I've come to understand it was a true one-off. I wouldn't put it past Wilco to air out the entire discography at some other point, and Jeff has been known to change it up at his solo shows. But this run was marked by a core of songs each night. Schmilco set the foundation, and I came to understand the other evergreen tracks highlighted certain skills among the band.

I'll cite three classics because they are especially significant to me. First off: "Impossible Germany." This has been a staple of Wilco's set for many years now, and there's no arguing its beauty and transcendence, but in a smaller venue, it finally hit me. Jeff often likens concerts and churches in their ability to unite people, and you certainly hear it when the crowd sings along. But I'd argue that "Impossible Germany" has become the centerpiece of Wilco's live show. You can hear the excitement and anticipation build with Nels' solo, then giving way to the roars as he returns to the song's framework. I told a friend/newbie it was Wilco's masterpiece, which I didn't really understand until this run of shows.



The other song is "Spiders," which is sort of a companion piece to "Impossible Germany." Wilco actually mixed up this tune more than usual, playing it at increased speed. In earlier incarnations, the guitar solos were the catharsis -- they still are -- but there was no mistaking the new emphasis on Glenn. Much as Nels guides an integral part of "Impossible Germany," Glenn did the same with "Spiders," as all eyes went to him during an extended solo until he damn well wanted to end it. The two showcases couldn't be more welcome.

Finally: "Misunderstood." Back to old hoary tales -- this song scared the shit out of me at the aforementioned 2000 shows. But it and the band have changed over the years, to the point where it's currently acoustic and hushed, most notably in the trademark "nothing" parade. There's probably a more encompassing analogy between the band's and the song's development, but I'm not the one to say. Instead, listen and enjoy.

The songs between the mainstays sometimes followed a theme or at least a spotlight album. It's a no-brainer my favorite was Friday night and the Being There encore. It would be too much of a pain to name all the favorite deep tracks, so I'll simply say I loved every opportunity for us to sing along in unison. Also, I will fight people over the excellence of Sky Blue Sky.

One special notice goes to Julian Lage, who joined the band for a handful of songs on the last night. I've heard many, many guests on "California Stars," and even the big names kind of punch the clock on the song. I mean, it's always fun and sweet, but holy cow, Julian took it to another level. It's no exaggeration to say it's the best guest appearance I've ever heard for the song. I hope everyone in the room recognized the brilliance.

Jeff didn't disappoint with his banter either. Wednesday was the best night in that regard, though I won't embarrass the subject further (if he's reading), except to say it was hilarious. I'll replay that beat after "We Aren't the World (Safety Girl)" in my head forever. Also, I'll never say no to Jeff telling the Fillmore audience that we are the best in the world. We know ... and we love it.

I'd be remiss if I didn't mention the added joy of all the wonderful friends who came to town for the shows. Hope you enjoyed San Francisco summer and public transport! Please come back any time. Also, thanks for putting up with me reminding everyone endlessly that I had a 10K on Sunday morning. As of this writing, I'm still recovering, but it was entirely worth it.

See also:
» i'd be lying if i said it wasn't easy
» i've run out of metaphors

rejoice to the skies

Spring is here, and with it comes an uptick in touring. Personally, I'm not taking full advantage of the concert schedule, but the Big Star's Third reprise was notable enough to warrant a night out.

Big Star's Third, the Fillmore, April 24, 2016: Fun fact: After you hear "Thirteen," it's impossible to not sing it to yourself for the next few days. It's science!

Truth be told, I might not have ventured out if Paul hadn't come to town for the show, but it doesn't take a lot to convince me to hear pretty voices and awesome musicians play songs by Big Star. The early question was why the band had come back together. They had put together a couple of shows last fall, and it's not like the setlist was going to change much, nor had many new faces joined the roster. The answer became clearer when the L.A. date was announced. This would be the dress rehearsal, albeit without a couple of big names.

About those names: Many of the usual suspects returned, including Chris Stamey and Jody Stephens (of course). Much of the same crew returned from last fall's appearance, Mike Mills, Pat Sansone, Chuck Prophet, and the Kronos Quartet among them. A new face (or at least one I don't remember) was Mitch Easter. REM fans can probably wax much poetic about him than I can, but it's no exaggeration to say his hair alone enjoyed '80s indie rock icon status. Though he looks nothing like that these days, he can still play the guitar -- and he was the only person onstage to sport anything close to formal wear.

I caught only the set at Hardly Strictly last year, so I don't know what the normal show is like, but more experienced ears tell me the ensemble reversed the usual order of events. Instead of going into the advertised record, they began with the one-off tunes -- not that I can tell you the setlist for either night. But let's say Pat Sansone helped kick off the proceedings, and what do you know? He made his way to a solo song for the encore too.

In between, we got all the expected tracks and some new tunes sung by new voices. Ira Kaplan of Yo La Tengo was one of the new additions, and they eventually convinced Georgia Hubley to join them. I don't even remember what they sang, except Ira picked up the hair dryer for one song. Speaking of sound effects, Mike Mills took care of the basketball again.



Now that we weren't in the middle of a field, the finer details came through. Jody, a true gentleman, exuded Southern charm, and Mitch Easter was second only to Chris Stamey as an all-purpose player. Th Kronos Quartet might've benefited the most from this proper setting -- that is, their contributions rung out, which I kind of missed at the Arrow Stage. Strangely, Chuck Prophet wasn't much of a presence until the very end, when he finally stepped up the main mic. Oh, and we did quite well on not biting on the fake ending of "Holocaust." (Full disclosure: We were warned.)

But the constants stayed strong, notably "Thirteen" and "Thank You Friends," but it would take a ton of questionable decisions and a deficit of talent to detract from those songs. The encores felt somewhat ramshackle, and in fact, the whole show was endearingly ragged. We imagine they'll edit out the pauses for the final release. Maybe someday they'll realize they already have the perfect closer in "Thank You Friends" and mix up the rest of the song order to lead down that path. Regardless of the final setlist, the songs remain among the all-time classics, and that alone is good reason to listen to these players. I wanna thank you again!

See also:
» i'm so grateful

tripping the dark fantastic

I've caught myself saying this a lot lately: I don't need to see that band again. It's not as if I don't like the band, but when your concert attendance starts hitting the double digits, especially in the bigger venues, my interest drops off a cliff (with very few exceptions). But when a friend is in town and wants to hit the Fillmore, why the hell not? Thus, hello Punch Brothers!

Punch Brothers, the Fillmore, April 4, 2015: A pleasant surprise awaited me when I bought tix from the Fillmore box office for the show: download codes for each concert-goer. I figured the Punch Brothers were offering, at best, a three-song sampler, but I was dead wrong. The download covered the entire new album, The Phosphorescent Blues. As I've said a million times, I nearly always favor live music over studio recordings, and the download fit perfectly into my plans. I realize not all bands have the luxury of giving away their music, but I have so much respect for the Punch Brothers for reaching out to the fans who come out to see them on the road.

Perhaps the Punch Brothers can pull off these acts because they know they'll be rewarded by passionate audiences at every stop, if San Francisco is anything to go by. Granted, they were booked for two nights at the Fillmore, which is already a good sign. But you still have to pack the bodies in and fire them up -- check and check on both counts in San Francisco, as the fans responded with cheers, singalongs, and declarations of love.



By no means am I particularly knowledgeable about the Punch Brothers, but I've enjoyed the privilege of seeing them or at least Chris Thile fairly often at Largo. I also don't mind admitting their more not-bluegrass touches hooked me, though I can't imagine how you couldn't love their banjo solos.

If you've listened to the new record, you know it starts off on a decidedly poppier, more accessible tone, but if you stick around, you'll hear the usual mandolin and harmonies kick in later. That wasn't the only change: The live setup now included a set of drums, and at one point, Chris brought a bouzouki. Never fear -- still no electric guitar in sight. As it turned out, Gabe Wicher took the drums for a handful of songs while simultaneously playing fiddle, but his percussion duties were mostly limited to kick drum.

I have no idea what longtime fans may think of this development, but it all sounded great to me. Of course, the Punch Brothers touched on their roots -- say, with the Jimmie Rodgers cover "Brakeman's Blues." At other times, I kept thinking they should've written for the Taylor Swift of, like, two albums ago. But mostly, I marveled that they could turn one of the most old-fashioned of American musical forms into prog rock -- it's no small feat to mount a mountain of suspense out of such timeless instruments.

The topper to the show might've been the a cappella turn at "The Auld Triangle," from tons of sources, but in this context, perhaps most famously from Inside Llewyn Davis. (I really only know it from listening to Jeff Tweedy covers, don't yell at me for not citing Dylan or any of the Irish troubadours who originated it.) The six of them gathered around the appropriately old-fashioned microphone and delivered perfect harmonies to complement the eternal track; we in the audience helped in the chorus as well. As a fairly impartial by-stander, I loved it, and I wish every concert could have such a moment.



Gabriel Kahane opened the show, and I'd seen him a few years before playing with Chris Thile at Largo. The audience was incredibly respectful to him and let him sing -- and he deserved to be heard! He even made me curious about some of the Los Angeles landmarks that inspired him, so that could be a mission on my next visit down south.

See also:
» broadminded
» let's not fool ourselves
» one day like this a year

are you scared? are you frightened?

This doesn't happen very often -- a Jeff Tweedy project taking a year to reach the Bay Area, one of his most dedicated fan bases. Granted, Tweedy made its only West Coast appearance last year with the date at Hardly Strictly in October, but that barely scratches the itch for some of us. Nope, we want the full two-hour treatment, complete with encore. Perhaps to make up for the absence, Tweedy gave San Francisco two dates at the Fillmore, and all was right in the world again.

Tweedy, the Fillmore, March 17-18, 2015: Think of your favorite bands or performers. Then think of how many of their side projects you choose to check out. Overall, the ratio is pretty low for me, unless you are related to Wilco and are headed to my town. Even then, the interest can vary widely (see: Autumn Defense). Hell, I skipped some Nels Cline shows in the past few months, but Jeff Tweedy is another matter all together.

I'm going to resist the urge to make comparisons between Wilco and Tweedy. Obviously, the seeds are there, and you can draw a direct line between the songs, but that's kind of boring. In fact, I'll make only one connection between Tweedy and Wilco: Both bands foster an informal, comfortable atmosphere -- more kin than corporation. In fact, when Jeff started in with a few jabs at Liam Cunningham, he had to inform us sensitive Californians that's how they show affection in the Midwest.

I generally avoid potential spoilers for gigs, steering clear of all reports preceding the concert, and Tweedy was no different. However, the blueprint for the band had been set out with the Hardly Strictly slot: mostly songs from the record, with an acoustic segment, and wrapped up in a full-band reprise. In this more formal setting, we got more of both. I was particularly excited to hear tunes from Sukierae, as the Hardly Strictly set didn't allow much time for the newest tracks. As a bonus, over two nights, the band naturally played rarer songs that wouldn't necessarily get a chance in a one-night stand.

Two examples: "Slow Love" (we did well with the backing vocals, and I coincidentally adore the song) and "Pigeons," which hardly ever happens (I'm told). Among the everyday tracks, it's no stretch to call "Diamond Light" the coolest song in the set. It offers a fantastic contrast to all the waltzes (Jeff's note) on the record, and Spencer gets to show off his prodigious drumming skills -- killing all suspicions of nepotism. The rapport with Darin Gray and both Tweedys is also a pleasure to watch and a bonus atop the tune itself.



The kinda hits "Summer Noon" and "Low Key" were fun and delightful, but a couple of other tunes off the record surprised me. Jeff's voice and lyrics jumped out from the simplicity of "Fake Fur Coat," and I loved how the storytelling of "Nobody Dies Anymore" rolled out at its own pace (even when the Fillmore's air conditioning kicked in at full throttle in the middle of the song on the second night).

OK, I'll make one more Wilco comparison: As with Wilco's early tours, Tweedy fills out the single album of material with Jeff's solo set, then caps off the evening with beloved covers. The solo set can be far-ranging, though he has a few favorites ("I Am Trying to Break Your Heart," "Remember the Mountain Bed," "One Wing," "Hummingbird," "I'm The Man Who Loves You"). "Lost Love" (for which I campaigned so strenuously 10 years ago) put a huge smile on my face the first night, and "Radio King" was a request granted to a woman in the audience. Also, no one I know ever complains when an Uncle Tupelo track makes an appearance.



One advantage to hitting both shows: You get the full range of covers, which meant both Doug Sahm and John Lennon. The latter has been one of my favorites since I was a teenager, and changing "Yoko and me" to "Spencer and me" was a sweet touch. Regarding Doug Sahm, how awesome does it sound with full band backing?! You don't have to answer that.



As you can imagine, the show had its share of diversions. The first night, a young brother-and-sister duo (aged 10 and 8, respectively) made their way to the front and somehow knew all the words to the Neil Young cover. They and their parents became a comedic foil to Jeff for much of the night, in good fun of course.

The second night (which wasn't even St. Patrick's Day) saw a more boisterous crowd, who decided to clap along to "Forget the Flowers," with predictable results. Jeff threatened to switch to one of his rhythm-less dirges to discourage the efforts, but ended up mocking them with his version of their beat-keeping. In all, we ended up with a three-part rendition of the song: (1) bad clapping; (2) spoken word; (3) traditional. As usual, I've killed all the comedy, but believe me, it was a hoot to witness. Also, Jeff had a running commentary on the (small) school of flies swarming to his unwashed mass -- again, funnier in execution than in my description -- which inspired a concert-goer to throw a pack of Handi Wipes onstage.

We got different openers over the two nights at the Fillmore. The first evening, Eleanor Friedberger took the honors, and she was fantastic. It's been a while since I've listened to the Fiery Furnaces, but compared to their sound, she was more straightforward and accessible. She brought up memories of Patti Smith for many of us, partly because of her hair and her voice, but also with the directness and power of her set. She was thrilling and revelatory.

The second night, the Minus 5 took the stage, with yet another lineup: Michael Giblin, Linda Pitmon, and Peter Buck joining Scott McCaughey. They played it fairly straight, though Jeff had to remark on their surprise addition of Neil Young's "Revolution Blues" when Tweedy came to "The Losing End." As far as I'm concerned, Linda Pitmon stole the show. She totally rocked it, most notably when both Scott and Peter's guitars went out at the same time.

Was Tweedy worth the one-year wait? You know it! Lucky for me, I had one show left on this tour. Stay tuned!

See also:
» summer noon
» it's been a while
» low key

here comes the jackpot question in advance

With any luck, I'll be able to salvage this year's gig tally with a few late shows. Aimee Mann kicks off the season with her holiday extravaganza.

The Return of Aimee Mann's Christmas Show, the Fillmore, December 5, 2014: Has it been that long since Aimee brought her Christmas show back to the Bay Area? I know it's still an annual event in Los Angeles, and it's entirely possible I've slept on local dates. But wow, I've missed this highlight of the holiday season!

In Aimee's defense, the Christmas shows have always been a more ambitious affair than your average rock gig and thus require extensive preparation. On stage alone, you could see Christmas ornaments strewn across the floor, a couple boxes of costumes, and more microphones than usual for her band. Then again, the show was advertised as Aimee Mann and friends, following the precedent set by earlier runs.

The show opened with the intro to an old-school TV show called Murder, She Sang, featuring Aimee and Ted Leo as a pair of detectives chasing down perps and solving crimes. The clip bore all of Scharpling's auteur touches, but I'm too lazy to confirm it; surely another blog has the details. (Note: I was wrong! The video was, in fact, directed by Daniel Ralston.) Shortly thereafter, Aimee, Ted, and the Both personnel took the stage.

I have to admit I didn't take notes because I was so appalled and aghast at the bridge-and-tunnel yuppies planted to the side of me (more on them later), so the finer details will go AWOL, but at least there are plenty of highlights to report. As befits a Christmas show, Aimee, Ted, and the band did several Christmas songs, including an old-fashioned English carol and another in tribute to Ted's father ("Little Donkey"?). They even snuck in a couple of original tunes, from the Both and their respective catalogs. Aimee's track was "Save Me," and she apologized for its nonholiday content, but I disagree vehemently. The title alone screams of the season, from both theological and psychological standpoints.

But the bulk of the show hearkened back to that first clip, and early on, Aimee and Ted set up the night's conflict: Aimee's desire to take a break from murder mysteries and Ted's dedication to solving crimes. (Once more, I've reduced a fantastic comic conceit to flat prose. Good job, good effort!) Tim Heidecker (the first guest) forced this point right out of the gate, as he rushed to the stage to report that Santa Claus had been killed backstage. Aimee and Ted would return to the case many times throughout the night, even as they brought the rock.



The aforementioned Tim Heidecker reappeared several times through the show, starting with his own stand-up set. I gotta admit Tim and Eric always went right over my head, but he was fantastic onstage, particularly for shutting up the yuppies for a few minutes. Later, he piped in to remind Aimee and Ted of the police matter awaiting their attention, and he took a couple of musical turns. In one, he starred as the title character in "You're a Mean One, Mr. Grinch," and in the other, he represented the Jewish new year alongside Father Time (Aimee) and Baby New Year (Ted) on "What Are You Doing New Year's Eve."

The bona fide musical guest for the night was Susanna Hoffs, formerly of the Bangles and her solo career (and UC Berkeley -- go Bears!). Her first song fit into the holiday theme perfectly: "Hazy Shade of Winter." With help from Aimee and Ted, she also treated us to "Walk Like an Egyptian," but with new lyrics offering a lesson on the Jewish holidays, befitting Susanna's heritage, not unlike Morgan Murphy's Hanukkah rap from a few years ago. I'd recite some lyrics if I could, but all I heard was a throwaway reference to the Maccabees.



Rounding out the guest list, Handsome Jack brought up a random audience member for a pretty cool trick. Bless the woman playing the foil; I would've died from embarrassment.

Ultimately, Ted convinced Aimee to put on her detective coat (literally) and solve the crime. Their secret weapon was a song that would squeeze the truth out of anyone, Paul McCartney's "Wonderful Christmastime." Elementary, my dear Watson! The duo got their man, then serenaded us to Vince Guaraldi's classic "Christmas Time Is Here."

I've managed to trample the duo's impeccable timing and effortless banter, which was a huge part of the show. Aimee and Ted have been touring for more than a year now, and their connection shows. In their nonmusical moments, they were like an old vaudeville team or a screwball comedy. I could listen to them chatting to one another all night.

Back to the embarrassing yuppies: They squeezed in minutes before the band took the stage, already a few sheets to the wind -- so be it. Then it all went downhill after the first words I heard from them, referring to Aimee: "I hope she's wearing underwear." They were the definition of amateurs, trying to heckle Tim Heidecker and nearly getting into a fight with another couple who swooped in when one of the bridge-and-tunnelers disappeared to get more drinks. At one point, I thought they were going to whip out the credit cards and see whose credit limit was bigger. We later heard that the head fool actually puked on the floor before the show. It brought me right back to a laughably mortifying Wilco show at the Saratoga Mountain Winery -- coincidentally, one of the Aimee's regular venues in the Bay Area. I haven't even mentioned the guy in the front who got kicked out for videotaping the whole show on his camera or yet another interloping woman who tried to throw a pin to Aimee onstage. (Duh, you send it via the roadie!)

Despite all these shenanigans, Aimee put on arguably her most ambitious Christmas show yet, and the gang lived up to the legend. Someday, when we come to our senses, we may finally realize it ranks up there with other Christmas masterpieces like the Bing Crosby/David Bowie duet and the original Star Wars Holiday Special.

See also:
» if there's a star above
» unless you hate baby jesus
» it's not going to stop

winter comes

Happy holidays! I'm attempting to pull off the Festivus miracle of trying to report on several shows I saw over the course of a couple of weeks earlier this month that I couldn't get to due to a combination of travel, work, and family commitments. Let's start with Jeff Tweedy's return to the Fillmore in San Francisco -- wish me luck!

Jeff Tweedy, the Fillmore, December 11-12, 2013: At the time of these dates, I figured it'd been a while since I've seen Jeff in a "normal" show -- that is, a gig other than a charity, all-request event. As it turned out, I was wrong, but for those keeping track at home, it had been a full seven years since Jeff has played the Fillmore, once his band's home away from home. It's been far too long between appearances for this region's devoted fanbase, but I can't really complain because (1) Jeff's solo tours are hardly common these days, and (2) I'm fortunate to have another outlet for his concerts sans band.

What has remained the same over the interim: The Fillmore is still a great fit for Jeff, as evidenced by the spontaneous singalong that welcomed his first two songs ("I Am Trying to Break Your Heart," "New Madrid") of the engagement. A singalong broke out several more times over the course of the shows, perhaps most memorably in two instances:

• On the first night, Jeff floated a theory that a conspiracy was afoot to boost one song's chances because it received eight times more votes than any other title, and he ordered the 26 guilty parties to sing it aloud, as it was difficult (for him?) to perform. The song in question was "Either Way," and not only did we hit every word and note, a handful of fans even sounded out Nels's guitar solo. If you read this blog regularly, you may know that I love "Either Way," and I frequently lament its lack of representation in the live show. I guess Jeff gave us a hint on why it isn't aired more often, but once again, I hope our vocal display makes him rethink his stance on the tune.

• On the second night, Jeff took notice of a young boy at the front of the stage and sort of gave him the third degree. Ultimately, he got a request out of the kid, "Misunderstood." The twist on this song hit when we got to the "nothing"s, as Jeff opted for understatement instead of the typical catharsis and rage. You could hear every single under-the-breath utterance of the refrain in the room.

A band like Wilco has never had any bona fide hits, as Jeff asserts, but it's pretty easy to come up with a list of fan favorites, and you could probably argue for the ubiquity of certain album tracks. In terms of hearing rare tracks, I have no reason to complain, but the song selection over the two nights even took me by surprise. Technically, I hadn't heard three of the songs in an acoustic setting before: "One True Vine," "Art of Almost," and "God" -- OK, that last one is a bit of a cheat since it's a cover, but it also happens to be a song I love, even with Jeff's amended lyrics ("I don't believe in Garcia ... I just believe in Wilco and me").

In case the idea of messing with John Lennon's lyrics bothers you, perhaps you'll take some solace in Jeff unexpectedly rewriting his own, when he inadvertently added an "s" to a line in "Please Tell My Brothers," sang out "Please tell my fathers," and in the process, turned it into both a gigglefest and an anthem for the new normal. Can it please be the theme song to the inevitable "My Two Dads" reboot?

Music is most of the story at a Jeff Tweedy show, but banter should get a mention too. On the first night, Jeff likened us to a cult and tried to convince us to bring him diamonds and Cheez-Its -- and some people obliged (for the Cheez-Its) on the second night, though Jeff brought his own props as well. Once more on the novelty tip, I'll mention that I heard a new-to-me story, as told by Jeff: the night Chuck Berry visited Mississippi Nights. Apparently, he dressed to the nines and was accompanied by a pair of ladies, but left after Soul Asylum, thus missing Husker Du. This anecdote in turn led to Jeff's musings about his wardrobe choices, angst, and regrets as a teenager -- because it was that kind of a night.



Old friend and colleague Scott McCaughey opened both nights with songs from his illustrious career, including a handful of tracks from the Minus 5/Wilco collaboration. He may have been the instigator behind "God," as well as the other British Invasion track "Oklahoma USA" -- long missing from Jeff's solo shows. I wouldn't give him as much credit for Doug Sahm's "Give Back the Key to My Heart," but it was a fantastic off-PA selection and show closer. On the second night, that honor fell to old favorite "Dreamer in My Dreams," in its rambling, bleak, slapdash, seven-verse glory.

See also:
» i wish that i knew what I know now
» in the beginning, we closed our eyes

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

make a shy bald buddhist reflect

I learned a new phrase last weekend: Fauxchella. It describes the pre- and post-Coachella trickle of shows around here -- and across Southern California, if you know where to go -- by bands booked for the festival. I haven't indulged in the offerings as much lately, but it's nice to have the option. This year, Fauxchella brought Johnny Marr to the Fillmore, and a quick visit to say hi to friends in line turned first into an extra ticket, then into a exultant evening for everyone convened.

Johnny Marr, the Fillmore, April 13, 2013: If you ever visit my apartment and thumb through my vinyl, you're guaranteed to notice a large segment of import albums and 12-inch singles by my teenage obsessions: Duran Duran and the Smiths. At the time, I had no idea how diametrically opposed they were in terms of style, influences, and image. To this immigrant Asian-American suburban kid, these pale, skinny British men were the definition of exotic and otherworldly. Unbeknownst to me at the time, the two bands set my expectations for all ensembles to come and dictated the parameters of my musical tastes. I probably favor the jangly Smiths side these days, but I can fall for a solid, saucy stomper in the mold of Duran Duran now and again.

Duran Duran has mostly fallen off my radar these days, but Johnny Marr has not, due in large part to his work with a huge range of musicians, two of whom happen to be my favorites. Of course, I'm talking about Neil Finn and, by extension, Jeff Tweedy when they worked on the second 7 Worlds Collide project. But even if he hadn't branched out, Johnny's legacy would need no further burnishing.

As I hadn't originally planned to see this show, I didn't know what to expect, but the whispers among the more dedicated fans indicated we'd hear some classics tonight. Johnny wasted little time teasing us along -- the second song of the set was "Stop Me if You Think You've Heard This One Before." Contrary to the directions imparted, we did not stop him.



Over the years, I've probably used the phrase "the modern Lennnon/McCartney" way too many times without realizing what it actually meant. I thought it signified any amazing songwriting team, and that's exactly what Morrissey and Marr were to me. But truth be told, I homed in on Morrissey's angsty lyrics and didn't give a ton of thought to what Johnny brought to the table, even though his talent practically slapped me in the face every time I put on "How Soon Is Now" -- which I put on a lot. That changed when I heard Bryan Ferry's voice over Johnny's arrangements in "The Right Stuff," aka "Money Changes Everything," b-side to "Bigmouth Strikes Again." (See above for my actual record that I apparently got signed a long time ago.) So that's what Johnny did for all those songs.

This same revelation hit again when Johnny rolled out "Stop Me if You Think You've Heard This One Before." The lyrics and melody are infectious like an old girl-group chart topper, but listen to that opening swell and syncopation, then settle in for the jangly blanket of guitar that wraps up the rest of the tune. I'd also be remiss not to point out that, unlike so many songs of the time, the drums don't sound like they were recorded in a drafty, haunted hangar. The song has great bones, to borrow a phrase.

Overall, Johnny dedicated about one-third of his set to Smiths songs, including "London," a deep album cut that may have been the biggest surprise of the night. Actually, I take that back -- "Getting Away With It" from his Electronic phase was the biggest shocker of the night. Nope, that's not right either because the guest spot by Billy Duffy (from the Cult) blew us all way.



(At this point, I need to throw in another sidebar and mention that a good friend adored the Cult, and we listened to a lot of their records in the '90s -- so you can kind of imagine my amazement at this combo. I didn't even know Billy was from Manchester! Now back to the blog.)

Johnny prefaced Billy's appearance with a sweet story about how they'd known each other for a long time and believed in each other and supported one another through the years. I'm a sucker for rocker rapport, and I probably secretly cling to the belief that all the best musicians live together in the same house a la the Beatles in Help! Short of an invitation to that dinner party, I'll accept displays of concert-side conviviality to boost my spirits.

The two of them closed out the show with a cover of "I Fought the Law" and the Smiths' own "How Soon Is Now." I am and always will be a planner, but by the time they left the stage, there was no doubt this spontaneous Saturday night decision worked out pretty well.

What about Johnny's new songs? They sounded great and offered further evidence of his ongoing evolution. This man is not about to rest on his laurels -- or rest, period, judging by his bounce and dedication onstage. Within a couple of songs, he was already soaked in sweat, and he didn't get as much as a towel throughout the evening. When he returned for the encore with his own "Johnny Fucking Marr" shirt from the merch booth, you could hardly blame him or hold such a cocky move against him. I mean, isn't that what we've been calling him all these years anyway?

This is the 40-something talking, so bear with me: I will never deny my love of '80s music, but at the same time, so-called nostalgia acts aren't my thing either. Still, when you see Johnny Marr killing a room like that, you need to shut up and sing out for at least one night.

See also:
» i'm a realist
» Obscurity Knocks: Marion, "The Program"