Alright, so last night I went to go see Godspeed You! Black Emperor. This is a continuation of the previous post, I'll pick up where that post left off. If you haven't read part one yet, do that first.
After experiencing the opening act, I decided I probably shouldn't leave my spot, since I was close to the aisle towards the front, and I could see everything pretty well. So I checked my phone, like everyone else in the audience, watched all of the Granada's advertisements for upcoming shows, etc., and did whatever else I could to kill a half an hour of time. Blah blah blah.
A little after nine, some of the artists come on stage, and one of the guitarists starts to make noise through some synthesizer or keyboard or digital thing I couldn't see. In my understanding, that's when the concert starts, right? They clearly weren't doing a soundcheck, and it was clear they were performing as though it was the start of their show. The guitarist continued to make noise, a low pedal E with some other noises, while the audience stayed in break mode. For the first five minutes of the set, half of the crowd was on their phones, or talking to their friends loud enough to be more than a distraction, while the band produced sound.
Just for clarification, this isn't the kind of band that plays four minute songs, talks to the audience a bunch, introduces the band, etc. There weren't even any vocal mics for anyone to talk on stage. I'm sure most of the audience at the show had heard the band before, and probably knew that what their music sounded like. This is a band that works in long forms, in layers, in extensive repetition and an interesting sense of minimalism. So I found it pretty annoying when the people on stage were taking themselves seriously, and the people at the show, who paid thirty bucks a ticket to be there, weren't even making the most of it.
I might just be a cranky jerk though.
Anyways, the audience seemed to shut up and react whenever the video or visual projections started in the background, which was more than five minutes before the sound started, and they really responded when the drummer played his first notes, as though he was the first musician to play anything, which of course wasn't the case.
The band was incredible. They played both music I had heard before and some that I hadn't, which is what I expected, since I'm not a diehard fan or anything, and haven't heard their whole catalogue. Like the opening act, the electronic artist, they thought in much longer phrases and ideas that brought out completely different feelings and emotions from me than any other concert experience has. They were clearly inspired by minimalism, in their sense of time and phrasing, not necessarily in their instrumentation and activity. It was an amazing, meditative rock and experimental music experience... well, it would have been, if it was in a different environment.
I've already hinted at the fact that the audience bugged me last night. First of all, they took a while to realize that music was happening. That wasn't really a big issue though. My biggest issue is that some people's self-awareness was kinda lacking, and that people can sometimes detract from the experience of other people for the own personal gain. I guess that happens at almost every concert, but this situation was so different from other experiences that it really messed with me.
At every rock concert I've ever been to, there have been people with their cameras taking pictures of the band, flashes going off, trying to capture the moment as it happens. But this concert was much more focused on provoking thought, introspection and meditation than other rock concerts, which are often about playing your favorite songs, being really loud and putting on a good show. And this different music that was trying to evoke different things and create a different experience made those people holding their iPhones up to the sky to take that perfect picture with their blinding flash look silly, in my opinion. Aren't you missing part of the experience by focusing on capturing it so perfectly? At what point do you put your cameras away and just listen to the music?
Cameras are annoying, but there were some other typical rock concert things that just didn't mesh with experience GY!BE was trying to create. I saw probably five or six drunk people trip down the one stair in front of me to my right, people that were a little too drunk to get up on their own. There was also a guy having a bad trip or something who walked with a blank stare into a large trashcan, kept walking until he ran the can up against a girl, stared off into space for ten seconds or so, and tumbled down to the floor, out cold until a friend tapped him on the shoulder and helped him back up. It's not cool to be blackout drunk or just so out of your mind that you're a hassle to other people who paid good money to watch a band and experience their music.
At most concerts these things aren't really a big deal to me, but this was such a different experience that every camera that flashed or drunk dude that fell down the stair was like a hard pinch waking me up from a fantastic dream.
The concert last night made me reconsider why I go to concerts. There are some bands where it's fine to go just to hang out with your friends, or to hear some songs you used to know a little bit. But there are plenty of other experiences where the concert isn't about dancing or having fun or drinking, necessarily, they're about the music. I personally enjoy both of those kinds of shows, but both of those scenarios aren't as enjoyable, and might seem awkward, unpleasant, or just terrible, with the wrong audience, regardless of how good the music is.
I loved the music last night. The audience was very detracting, though, and that's always something that can happen when you gather a large group of people in to a mostly standing-room venue that usually hosts musicians that perform the other kind of shows. I enjoyed seeing the musicians, but I think I would rather sit at home with the lights off by myself or with a few quiet friends than I would go see them live again.
M
Friday, October 12, 2012
10/12 - Live Music - Part One
This weekend is going to be pretty busy for me, but I knew a few weeks ago that two incredible acts were coming to Dallas this weekend: Dan Deacon and Godspeed You! Black Emperor. My schedule just didn't work out to go see Dan Deacon today, so I spent the money I saved on Godspeed You! Black Emperor last night at the Granada Theatre in Dallas.
I drove down after a long drive to and from work in McKinney, so I was on my third hour in the car on my way to the show. I love driving, but honestly, it tends to wear me out; whenever I road trip, I can't drive for long periods of time, except that time I ran over a dead deer in the middle of the night, then I was up the rest of the night. So my energy level was a little on the low side.
I made it, parked, forked over the thirty bucks for my ticket, and headed inside. I made it in time to catch the opening act, an electronics artist. When I walked in from outside, I thought I heard a loud hum, but didn't hear any music, but as I got closer to the stage, it turned out that the hum was the music. I found a spot unfortunately close to the subs, and tuned into what I assumed was probably his second song of at least five or six. I spent the rest of my first half hour zoned out inside the massive wall of sound the artist was producing, a low A flat rumble in the bass that came and slightly subsided in slow waves, with some tones in the middle that I couldn't quite make out, and some noise sustained through a tremolo effect, which the artist would carefully slow down or speed up.
At a certain point, I realized that this wasn't his second song, and as he kept going, I almost started to feel cheated; was he really just going to sustain a huge wall of the same sounds, with some background noise sped up and slowed down for a half an hour? I can't say that I was offended, because first of all, it doesn't matter, I'm just a listener, and second of all, I don't really know what I was expecting. I had no idea what to expect.
About half an hour in, though, you could tell he was building to a sort of climax. The tremolo processed noise was constantly picking up speed, adding volume, and getting more and more intense. I thought for sure I could tell when the peak would come, but sure enough, I guessed incorrectly over and over again, for at least five minutes. Even though I was sort of in the wrong mindset, waiting for what was next after this song instead of listening to what the artist was currently conveying, I was on the edge of my figurative seat, since I was standing. I couldn't wait for the peak.
And then it happened. It simply couldn't grow any larger, and just blew up. The sound seemed to be overwhelmed by itself, and slowly, I heard elements vanish that I hadn't even noticed when they were all together. At the end, nothing was left but silence, and in what seemed like moments (even though it was really minutes), I had gone from eagerly awaiting what was next to feeling very empty, longing for the wall of sound that used to be there, missing that large presence that was so overwhelming, yet so necessary.
When the artist carried his table off the stage after that single piece, instead of feeling cheated because he had only played one piece in a half an hour, I felt like I had cheated myself because I had taken in for granted. It's amazing how something as seemingly simple as sounds stretched over a long period of time could mean something so profound. In my case, it told the story of an amazing thing that lost its luster over time, simply because I got used to it and made myself too comfortable with it, and after taking it for granted, it left me, and I suddenly realized again how amazing that thing initially was.
M
I drove down after a long drive to and from work in McKinney, so I was on my third hour in the car on my way to the show. I love driving, but honestly, it tends to wear me out; whenever I road trip, I can't drive for long periods of time, except that time I ran over a dead deer in the middle of the night, then I was up the rest of the night. So my energy level was a little on the low side.
I made it, parked, forked over the thirty bucks for my ticket, and headed inside. I made it in time to catch the opening act, an electronics artist. When I walked in from outside, I thought I heard a loud hum, but didn't hear any music, but as I got closer to the stage, it turned out that the hum was the music. I found a spot unfortunately close to the subs, and tuned into what I assumed was probably his second song of at least five or six. I spent the rest of my first half hour zoned out inside the massive wall of sound the artist was producing, a low A flat rumble in the bass that came and slightly subsided in slow waves, with some tones in the middle that I couldn't quite make out, and some noise sustained through a tremolo effect, which the artist would carefully slow down or speed up.
At a certain point, I realized that this wasn't his second song, and as he kept going, I almost started to feel cheated; was he really just going to sustain a huge wall of the same sounds, with some background noise sped up and slowed down for a half an hour? I can't say that I was offended, because first of all, it doesn't matter, I'm just a listener, and second of all, I don't really know what I was expecting. I had no idea what to expect.
About half an hour in, though, you could tell he was building to a sort of climax. The tremolo processed noise was constantly picking up speed, adding volume, and getting more and more intense. I thought for sure I could tell when the peak would come, but sure enough, I guessed incorrectly over and over again, for at least five minutes. Even though I was sort of in the wrong mindset, waiting for what was next after this song instead of listening to what the artist was currently conveying, I was on the edge of my figurative seat, since I was standing. I couldn't wait for the peak.
And then it happened. It simply couldn't grow any larger, and just blew up. The sound seemed to be overwhelmed by itself, and slowly, I heard elements vanish that I hadn't even noticed when they were all together. At the end, nothing was left but silence, and in what seemed like moments (even though it was really minutes), I had gone from eagerly awaiting what was next to feeling very empty, longing for the wall of sound that used to be there, missing that large presence that was so overwhelming, yet so necessary.
When the artist carried his table off the stage after that single piece, instead of feeling cheated because he had only played one piece in a half an hour, I felt like I had cheated myself because I had taken in for granted. It's amazing how something as seemingly simple as sounds stretched over a long period of time could mean something so profound. In my case, it told the story of an amazing thing that lost its luster over time, simply because I got used to it and made myself too comfortable with it, and after taking it for granted, it left me, and I suddenly realized again how amazing that thing initially was.
M
Thursday, October 4, 2012
10/4 - Zammuto
Alright, yesterday I went to a concert. I had been looking forward to seeing this group of people for a really long time, since I was in high school. I missed out on a concert a year or so ago when they were "The Books," and I was pretty upset I couldn't go; supposedly, it was they best they ever played. But I did make it out last night, and I had a wonderful time.
Last night I went to Dan's SilverLeaf to see Zammuto. Zammuto is a very talented group of musicians, led by Nick Zammuto, who writes most of their material, sings, and plays some guitar. Nick's brother Mikey plays bass, Gene Back plays guitar and keys, and Sean Dixon is a beast behind the drums.
These guys have a very interesting style. There are plenty of bands that play with backing tracks in today's music world, but it's my opinion that most of these artists play with backing tracks to make playing shows easier, or to sound better because a pre-recorded track will sound better than a live track. Not Zammuto. They have backing tracks that add to the interesting and inventive sounds they're producing live, and the backing track certainly doesn't make shows easier; sometimes the track they're listening to is giving very syncopated rhythms, or could be difficult to follow along with, and all of the musicians are playing their intricate, precise parts along to it. It's a spectacle, especially watching Sean Dixon play his ridiculous polyrhythms and changing meters while effortlessly staying in time.
And they have to stay in time, because usually there are synced videos that go along with the backing tracks and live music. They opened their set with "Groan Man, Don't Cry," set to videos taken from dashboard cameras set on car windshields as they drive down roads. Some of the videos added meaning and clarity to the songs, to me anyways, but others were pretty silly. Their song "YAY," which, from the title, infers something happy, is really a song about chronic back pain, and was set to a synchronized slide show of people and silhouettes of people with chronic back pain. Usually the people on the slides were over-exaggerating for the cameras or kind of bad actors, which added to the comedy. When they played "Zebra Butt," slide after slide of zebra skin and the occasional zebra butt quickly flew by.
They played a couple songs that weren't on the album though, and I think I may have liked them the most. The closed out their set with a song featuring Mikey, the bass player, both musically and visually; his difficult bass lines and musicality were brought to the musical foreground, which was a treat, but at the same time, Zammuto family home videos were playing on the projector, and most of them were of Mikey looking ridiculous or doing ridiculous things. I guess from Mikey's perspective, it would a pretty awkward and weird way to be featured, to have to play difficult solo bass lines over embarrassing home videos of yourself, but the audience thought it was both hilarious and musically impressive.
For their encore they played along to a highly edited and spliced video of a man playing "The Battle Hymn of the Republic" on the auto-harp. The video was edited to show the old man playing the most impressive auto-harp solo of all time, playing incredibly fast and difficult passages on an instrument that isn't really meant for that kind of thing. It was an amazing thing to watch, but at the same time, watching a digitally edited old man shred on an auto-harp was pretty funny.
I don't know if they actively strive to be funny, necessarily, but I'm sure they want to entertain their audience and hopefully play music that will inspire them, and they definitely do both of those things. I just find them hilarious sometimes.
They also played a couple of old books tunes, including "Smells Like Content," from their album "Lost and Safe." They inspired me to buy that album, on vinyl, for only ten bucks, which is a steal, even though I found out it was a little warped when I took it home.
So if you have a chance, go see Zammuto when they come to wherever you are, if they're coming anywhere close to you. And if not, feel free to check our their music:
http://soundcloud.com/zammuto
M
Last night I went to Dan's SilverLeaf to see Zammuto. Zammuto is a very talented group of musicians, led by Nick Zammuto, who writes most of their material, sings, and plays some guitar. Nick's brother Mikey plays bass, Gene Back plays guitar and keys, and Sean Dixon is a beast behind the drums.
These guys have a very interesting style. There are plenty of bands that play with backing tracks in today's music world, but it's my opinion that most of these artists play with backing tracks to make playing shows easier, or to sound better because a pre-recorded track will sound better than a live track. Not Zammuto. They have backing tracks that add to the interesting and inventive sounds they're producing live, and the backing track certainly doesn't make shows easier; sometimes the track they're listening to is giving very syncopated rhythms, or could be difficult to follow along with, and all of the musicians are playing their intricate, precise parts along to it. It's a spectacle, especially watching Sean Dixon play his ridiculous polyrhythms and changing meters while effortlessly staying in time.
And they have to stay in time, because usually there are synced videos that go along with the backing tracks and live music. They opened their set with "Groan Man, Don't Cry," set to videos taken from dashboard cameras set on car windshields as they drive down roads. Some of the videos added meaning and clarity to the songs, to me anyways, but others were pretty silly. Their song "YAY," which, from the title, infers something happy, is really a song about chronic back pain, and was set to a synchronized slide show of people and silhouettes of people with chronic back pain. Usually the people on the slides were over-exaggerating for the cameras or kind of bad actors, which added to the comedy. When they played "Zebra Butt," slide after slide of zebra skin and the occasional zebra butt quickly flew by.
They played a couple songs that weren't on the album though, and I think I may have liked them the most. The closed out their set with a song featuring Mikey, the bass player, both musically and visually; his difficult bass lines and musicality were brought to the musical foreground, which was a treat, but at the same time, Zammuto family home videos were playing on the projector, and most of them were of Mikey looking ridiculous or doing ridiculous things. I guess from Mikey's perspective, it would a pretty awkward and weird way to be featured, to have to play difficult solo bass lines over embarrassing home videos of yourself, but the audience thought it was both hilarious and musically impressive.
For their encore they played along to a highly edited and spliced video of a man playing "The Battle Hymn of the Republic" on the auto-harp. The video was edited to show the old man playing the most impressive auto-harp solo of all time, playing incredibly fast and difficult passages on an instrument that isn't really meant for that kind of thing. It was an amazing thing to watch, but at the same time, watching a digitally edited old man shred on an auto-harp was pretty funny.
I don't know if they actively strive to be funny, necessarily, but I'm sure they want to entertain their audience and hopefully play music that will inspire them, and they definitely do both of those things. I just find them hilarious sometimes.
They also played a couple of old books tunes, including "Smells Like Content," from their album "Lost and Safe." They inspired me to buy that album, on vinyl, for only ten bucks, which is a steal, even though I found out it was a little warped when I took it home.
So if you have a chance, go see Zammuto when they come to wherever you are, if they're coming anywhere close to you. And if not, feel free to check our their music:
http://soundcloud.com/zammuto
M
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