A Hand To Hold The Scene

OK. First of all, a big thank you to the auburn haired cutie who gave me a free ticket at the show last night. Saved ten bucks, and wouldn't even let me buy her a beer. Her friend got sick, and was totally out of luck cuz it was a good show, well worth 10 bucks on a Monday night.

First, though, we had to go help out our Dem party pay the rent on their new digs. I glad-handed the Mayor; Zelmo, you've got a surprise coming in your tax bill! But they are getting all fired up for the next election, where George W. Bush's epic unpopularity, combined with the Republicans' neurotic authoritarianism seems to be poised to allow the Democrats opportunities for historic gains.

Whereupon they will be instantly blamed for all the problems that Republican legislation has caused, and be expected to clean ti all up. Which they will, of course, through the use of non-glamorous hard work and non-sound bite friendly policy solutions, whereupon the Republicans will start up the old Slime Wurlitzer again, focusing on haircuts and blowjobs, until they reclaim power, where they will commence looting, pillaging, and generally running the country as if it was a rented mule.

It's the American Political Cycle, in all its glory.

So then I grabbed a bit of food; then off to the Pabst for the Okkervil River show. The radio guy announced the show, and the upcoming shows; apparently I was the only one there planning to go to the Mekons.

Damien Jurado from Seattle opened with a kind of interesting, but muted, set of alt-americana. They found the quietness of the theater discombobulating.

The crowd filled up for Okkervil River. I knew them from this video posted at 3Bulls, which I still find one of their most compelling; but the latest release also has some fine stuff, including "Plus Ones", "A Girl In Port", and "Love To A Monster". As Pinko notes, the lyrics are literate and compelling. I am sure that Zelmo will hate them in a couple of weeks because his radio will play one of their songs.

There are a lot of touchstones for their sound, but not a lot of direct influences. I can hear some American Music Club, maybe most of all. It's like if Modest Mouse tried to write the Femmes second album without the Jesus references and using Rhett Miller as vocalist. Or maybe its more like Slobberbone playing Counting Crows covers, with new words.

I found myself thinking of Counting Crows more than once in their adept use of multi-instrumentation. Pedal Steel, trumpet, mandolin, double keyboards and sometimes triple guitars all joined the mix at times; and like CC, the band was able to follow the singer nimbly in his dynamics, jumping in and out with crisp timing.

They played all the stuff off the new album; I was especially pleased with"Plus Ones" because I love the lyrics; they reference numbers from other songs, but isn't trite or gimmicky:

No one wants to hear about your 97th tear, so dry your eyes or let it go uncried, my dear. I am all out of love to mouth into your ear, and not above letting a love song disappear before it's written. And no one wants a tune about the 100th luftballoon that was seen shooting from the window of your room, to be a spot against the sky's colossal gloom and land, deflated, in some neighbor state that's strewn with 99 others.

8 Chinese brothers; well, there's a reason why the last is smiling wide and sitting higher than the others, swinging his arms.

You would probably die before you shot up 9 miles high, your eyes dilated as light plays upon the sight of TVC16 as it sings you goodnight. Relaxed as hell and locked up in cell 45, I hope you're feeling better. The 51st way to leave your lover, admittedly, doesn't seem to be as gentle or as clean as all the others, leaving its scars.

All in the after hours of some Greenpoint bar, I told you that I can't listen, baby, about the 4th time you were a lady, and how your forthrightness betrayed a secret shyness, stripped away by days of being hailed as "Your Highness." And what's new, pussycat, is that you were once a lioness; they cut your claws out. Kitten, not everyone's keen on lighting candle 17. The party's done. The cake's all gone. The plates are clean. The chauffeur's leering from the cheerless mezzanine. And, in just 1 year, the straight world can pay to see what they've been missing.

You were caught kissing 8 Chinese brothers, but there's a reason why the last is smiling wide and sitting higher than the others, stinking with charm. And he says, "Let's get lost. Let them send out alarms." He says, "Let's get crossed out and come to harm. Let's make the world's stupidest stand and truly mean it. Let's hit the limit of laws over lovers' arms - no, let's exceed it."

And just like I said over at 3B, the band was dressed in jackets and ties, like nice boys. I also managed to score the double disc version of their last release, "Black Sheep Boy", for 12 bucks.

The only downer was the skunky Point Amber I had. bleagh. Put me off my beer for a while.

Afterwards, I moseyed up to Linnemann's to catch the inestimable Sigmund Snopek goof around with keyboards and buy beers for SilentMike. Siggy was solo, no Mike Woods, and the crowd was absent, as usual. So siggy screwed around with his new keyboard and played a couple of oddball jams we hadn't heard before. The new keyboard makes it sound like he's been hanging around in dance clubs- drum n bass heavy- but it resurrected the old UXB stuff he did for a short time in the 80s.

Unfortunately, I hit the wall at that point, so I rolled home. All in all, it was a good night to warm up for the Mekes show coming up.

Zelmo, You probably won't like the Mekons in the end. Upon consideration, there's not enough Journey in 'em. Your only hope is probably to get reeeaaaaaaally drunk.

heh.