thank you for nothing at all

On to night two of Wilco in Los Angeles, aka the Great Middling Low-Grade Rock 'n' Roll Swindle. I don't look forward to writing this account, but it has to be done.

Wilco, the Wiltern, January 25, 2012: I've seen great shows at the Wiltern, dating back to 2004 and more recently in 2009, and I've raved about the venue to anyone who'll listen. It reminds me of a nicer version of the Warfield in San Francisco, and only the Fox in Oakland rivals the beautiful restoration job inside the Wiltern. I especially appreciate the fact that they limit the number of bodies allowed inside the pit.



Alas, those memories are shot to hell, thanks to one of the greedier moves I've seen at a venue. I shouldn't be surprised that LiveNation would find a new way to screw music fans out of more money, but the so-called VIP Upgrade -- i.e., pay $20 for early access to the venue, ahead of everyone who waited in line ahead of you or, in our case, in front of us -- was pretty much legal extortion. I had no interest in paying, for a variety of reasons, but more than a dozen ponied up the fee. You broke my heart, Wiltern, and I'm afraid I may never see a show on the premises ever again.



I couldn't shake that bad taste in my mouth, but I have to admit it wasn't a horrible show. For starters, the sound was great, so it's probably a good thing we went to the Palladium first. That way, I couldn't compare the acoustics the other way around. The art-piece opening made a strong impression, and it was my first chance to hear the epic "One Sunday Morning." Wilco also rolled out a couple more Whole Love tracks that didn't make the cut at the Palladium, so the album representation was almost complete.

The rarer tracks can make or break a show, and at the Wiltern, they helped salvage a night that might've otherwise been doomed (through no fault of the band, I should add). Top of that list was "Laminated Cat," which can't be played enough, as far as I'm concerned. To the young guy at the front and to my left who tried to call out several songs to his parents standing a few spaces over to my right: Have you considered texting? You may also want to hit the MP3 stack. Despite your initial claim, the band didn't play "At Least That's What You Said," nor was the unmistakable opening riff of the Loose Fur tune turn out to be a B-side, as you first guessed. Otherwise, bless your heart!

Next time I think of the Wiltern, I'll try to concentrate on the good memories of years past, including a "Spiders" solo by a surprise guest, a goofy pic that still adorns my fridge, a lovely chat with my favorite club owner/fanboy, and great celeb sightings. It was nice knowing you, the Wiltern.

See also:
» it's become so obvious
» so flattered by fate

it's become so obvious

As you may have noticed, I go to great lengths to see Wilco, but sometimes I luck out and settle into a town for more than a day--say, for a Chicago residency or those multiple-night stands the band used to do at the Fillmore. This year, the extended roadshow landed a little closer to home, bringing Wilco to the Wiltern for three dates, and then some.

Wilco, the Wiltern, June 22, 23, and 25, 2009: With my deepest apologies to Vladimir Nabokov: Los Angeles, light of my life, fire of my loins. My sin, my soul.



Gah, I love this city. Before the week was over, we'd nab tickets to a Page-Off, eat far too much delicious food (Kogi! Jitlada! Hugo's! Langer's!), and take our seats among the Tonight Show studio audience, to scratch the surface. Oh, and there was the matter of a trifecta of Wilco shows.

The temptation is to cast any of Wilco's stretched-out stays as a mini-residency and to see which rare cuts they'll dig out for the shows. After last year's blowout, they've proven they can play everything, but on a more practical note, it appears that they work from a general template for each tour.



Thus, though I nursed a vague hope that the West Coast would hear John Stirratt's "It's Just That Simple," I didn't really think it would happen--and in fact, it didn't. Instead, our reward came in such selections as "Shouldn't Be Ashamed," complete with a substantially reimagined solo by Nels, as well as "In a Future Age" and "Box Full of Letters," to name just a few.

I am, however, burying the lede, as the single event already reported all over the blogosphere is Feist's surprise appearance for the live debut of "You and I." I remember seeing Carla Bozulich sing "Forget the Flowers" with Wilco a number of years ago and Jeff remarking that it was a written as a duet, but they could never get anyone to sing it with them. Oh, how times have changed.



In some ways, Feist looked more at ease than Jeff, though he was clearly delighted with the collaboration. Then again, she's had a lot more experience jumping in and out of musical combos. Regardless, they charmed the room, and I felt so fortunate to have been there.

Speaking of stage presence, the strongest impressions I got from this show--confirmed further by the gigs to follow--had everything to do with the band's confidence and joy. For some time now, Wilco shows have included a heap of smiles, compliments, inside jokes, and hugs, but it's been easy to lose track of those lighter moments amid the band's towering musicianship. For these shows, though these elements remained, I think we saw one other aspect emerging: The band really has a frontman now. At the least, they're getting closer to it. Or in the words of Flanagan, "Tweedy's hair is fantastic."

There's so much else I could cover from these three days, but I'm already way behind on my blogging, so I have to skim over the singer as a pitchman, my favorite soloist of this swing, the guest percussionist, and extremely generous benefactors. (Also: Krycek!) As far as I'm concerned, though, Wilco and the Wiltern continue their winning streak.

See also:
» i've run out of metaphors

seems that I've been waiting here forever

If I were less uptight, I would take advantage of this platform to fire off odes, diatribes, and general musings about whatever band whenever the spirit hit me. Alas, I'm as buttoned-up in blogging as I am with everything else, so I confine my posts to specific events. This limited scope also means that sometimes, I really, really look forward to writing about certain bands. Such is the case with Doves, returning to the States with their first album in five years.

Doves, the Wiltern, May 16, 2009: It would be ridiculous for me to complain about a tour on which I saw a band in Cambridge, England, and Austin, Texas, but I have to lodge a small caveat to the Doves' last campaign through the United States. You see, they were touring at the same time as Wilco, and anyone who reads this blog knows how those conflicts typically turn out. Though I can't recall the exact details, I know I went to see Wilco at the Greek the same night Doves had a show--likely at the Wiltern. On the other hand, Wilco-related wanderlust fueled both of the aforementioned trips, so I guess you can also count those two Doves shows among the fringe benefits of my far-flung travels.

This same dilemma reared its head once more; on the very same night and in this very same city, Nels and Mike from Wilco were sharing a double bill. After much debate, I finally sided with Doves. Four years is an eternity in the rock timeline, and I didn't want to deprive myself any longer. Also, I'll see Nels and Mike plying their trade, though not in the same capacity, soon enough.

Make no mistake about it: I love Doves. I've been smitten ever since their first album, which brought me great comfort during some tough times. And though I hate to quantify artistry, they're probably my third-favorite band--not too shabby considering that the top two slots have been a lock for the past several years (just don't make me pick between them). By the same token, though, I've been fairly frank in saying that the band's live show isn't necessarily their strength.

Keeping in mind this mental asterisk, let me declare the Wiltern gig the best show I've ever seen by Doves. They sounded great, the visuals were stunning, I've never heard Jimi speak so much, and the crowd was right there with them. Who says concerts in L.A. suck? (Not me!)

To be expected, they concentrated on the new album, though they left off "Lifelines," which I had pegged as a sure anthemic closer. The big singles from Kingdom of Rust were well represented, with the excellent "Jetstream" opening the show, accompanied by footage of a jet plane's liftoff. The film supporting "Winter Hill" suggested snowfall, "Kingdom of Rust" was set among images evoking the American West, and oddly, "The Greatest Denier" played out against shots of the Chicago skyline. Further punctuating the cowboy connection in "Kingdom of Rust," Jimi dropped in a nod to the Beverly Hillbillies and attempted one of the worst Southern accents I've ever heard upon the conclusion of the song.



Jimi was as chatty as I've seen him. He singled out a couple "making out" in the balcony (I thought the Brits prefer the term "snogging"?) and took credit for bringing people together in marriage and parenthood via the band's message board. Mostly, though, I recall their gratitude for our continuing patronage, especially in a country that often shuts out even the most hyped U.K. artists.

Jimi may be pegged as the frontman, but Doves aren't complete with Jez and Andy. Jez kicked off the show, in fact, with "Jetstream" (have I mentioned how much I love that song? can I mention it again?) and "Words," while Andy switched spots with Jimi for his customary "Here It Comes," Wigan dance footage intact.



The band's singles don't really register in the United States, so as a fan in America, you become intimately familiar with their album tracks. Thus, now that Doves are on their fourth release, it's inevitable they'll leave someone's favorite song off the setlist. For example, I maintain that "Cedar Room" is one of the greatest songs ever, but I can't be bitter about its absence, especially when they're featuring unexpected titles such as "Ambition" and "Firesuite."

About "Firesuite": This version was grittier and less mannered--to awesome affect--than I recall. It also reminded me that I, for one, can't live on earnest singer-songwriters alone. Damn, that song is one slinky, silky tease of a tune, and few bands do it as well as Doves.

See also:
» i won't be denied
» here comes the action