It was two months ago that I found out about Yo La Tengo’s single tour date in Boston on 9/16. This figured to be the one. Who knows how long Ira, Georgia, and James will be at this? I had to go. And I love to share.
That’s why I invited my four bandmates to come to the show with me. I want to compel others to like bands as much as I do – for the sake of the experience of it. A single evening can spark a lifetime obsession with a group of individuals you may never meet or see again but whom you hear from every single day. For me, this show was the culmination of 16 years of fanboy-dom and a chance to develop a new relationship with a heretofore unfamiliar Japanese psychedelic trio; for most of my bandmates (with the exception of our guitarist, who is my fellow music geek/stalker in this project), it was a night out in the big city and a potential bonding experience. And believe me, they were excited about that. But it simply isn’t the same.
Two of the bandmates (including the guitarist) couldn’t make it down due to sickness (we got all kindsa flu running ’round here; tourists beware), so the three of us still standing were left to get together and head down for an 8:00 show. To me, that meant that we’d have to be there – in the doors – before 8. Not a lot before 8, but definitely not after 8. Because every opportunity to see a band associated with one of your all-time favorites – even if only by a three-city leg of an international tour – is a chance at a brush with greatness. Why would you not want to see that? Why would you not take a chance that you’d witness something truly great? So if you want to get to Boston before 8, you leave before 6. I was shooting for 5:30 at the latest.
Both of my bandmates had incredibly busy schedules this past week (one due to an event you’ll hear more about later), so the question came to me – “could we all leave at 7?”
You can imagine what my answer to that was. To be honest, it was beyond my comprehension that 7:00 was the chosen time. Surely this was some sort of put-on, I thought. But I found out otherwise; everyone had plans until 7:00, and that was the earliest they could get on the road.
When I say the band viewed this as a potential bonding experience, I want you to know that this band is quite serious about its bonding. There is a dynamic at work here that’s much more about family and togetherness than anything I’ve experienced in my 14+ years in a variety of musical projects. That’s a testament to the backgrounds and personalities of the people involved. As a long-time misanthrope, I have found myself instinctively resisting this dynamic at times and yet embracing it at other times for how refreshing it is. Know this: it’s nothing I’m used to.
Another piece I should mention: our drummer and keyboard player have essentially ended their time with our band. One is leaving to determine his next musical direction, the other to find a new scene. This represented a last road trip (we’ve had a few) with good friends – basically family members – with whom we had been through an intense six-months-to-a-year.
So when the two healthy bandmates said they wanted to leave at 7, and I gave them what I thought was an obvious answer, the answer from our singer was a significant pushback, a plea to make 7:00 work for the sake of the bonding experience.
I think the surface read for what eventually happened is that my misanthropy got the best of me in this situation. I found myself setting arbitrary deadlines, offering unsolicited advice, and finally casting the whole mess as some sort of bizarre popularity contest. (I never win those.) After all of this, I came down my own damn self during the afternoon on Amtrak, working the whole way down, then camping out at a Starbucks closet off the Common until 7:30 when I walked the two blocks to the show.
The first band, Yura Yura Teikoku, turned out not to be a life-altering experience for me. They had good songs. They also had great hair. Couldn’t stop talking about the hair. But it was nothing like the first time I saw The Octopus Project or when the unfettered musical joy of Buffalo Daughter opened up for Girls Against Boys (unfortunately, that joy never seemed to make it into recordings). So what could have been an eye-opener was merely another good opening band.
So did I miss out on the band road trip for no reason? Certainly not. At the very least, I got more of my money’s worth than my bandmates. This was one of the reasons I used in standing pat on the early departure time – “I want to get my money’s worth.”
But how incredibly lame that sounds in retrospect. What I hoped to accomplish – and what I did accomplish in some form – was to rekindle in myself my own adventurous musical spirit, the seeking that was part of my showgoing ways when I was younger. I had a real desire to see new bands and absolutely no regrets when they turned out to be nothing special or even awful. The search for new musical obsessions was the sole goal and driving force, and it was quite fulfilling. Now that I’ve had a taste of it again, I suspect it’s going to be a part of my life once more.
I also hoped that my bandmates would join me in this fool’s/geek’s errand. It didn’t happen this time, and that caused me real anxiety because I knew they wouldn’t have the same experience as I did. As it turned out, their 7:00 departure landed them at the Wilbur Theatre around 9:20 – three songs into Yo La Tengo’s excellent set.
I guess what you could say about all this is that I wanted my bandmates to experience this show like I experienced this show and have always experienced music – as something intensely personal and worthy of obsession that occasionally (but not permanently) supplants emotion and connection. When I am at a show, I am highly anti-social, wanting to make the connection only with artists on stage, wanting to feel in the truest sense how the music and the performance hit me. Talking and relating to others around me takes away from that – at least during the performance. You can share that later.
I hoped to, but I could only share a part of the experience with my bandmates. What I hope now is that after witnessing my single-mindedness about getting them all to come to the show with me, after witnessing my early arrival, and after witnessing how I behaved while at the show, maybe they’ll know something more about me. Even if one of them is no longer playing with us, I hope he understands a little bit better what I’m talking about when I describe my relationship with a band. It’s intensely personal – an appropriate concept to discuss as a follow-up to the latest entry from our newest NAP member.
At the very least, I have shared a bit of myself, without reservation, and have probably shared more through action than I would be willing to share in ordinary conversation. And I hope they liked what they saw, because there’s more where that came from.
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Our singer, Hannah Tarkinson, has seen through to fruition the 1st Annual Frock’n'Roll show here in Portland. The Friday night show featured some of the best local performances I’ve seen in a long time, including from banjo/dobro blues master Samuel James
(along with his girlfriend Ayperi with a sensuous bellydancing performance alongside)
and the surprisingly and delightfully raw Darien Brahms (I hope to replace this with footage from the show from the other night, because it was just flat nasty)
and the happily punkish stylings of The Hot Tarts
The event, a benefit for the Portland Music Foundation, actually paired local fashion designers with local bands/artists and brought an amazing crowd out. Huge congratulations go to Hannah for that. More to my point above, though, is that this was an evening of incredibly diverse musical styles, probably the most jaw-droppingly diverse that I’ve seen here in Maine. And for that, Hannah deserves even greater congratulations. This could be the start of something freaking huge, and it showed me what incredible talent is out there, at least in Portland. I’m usually the first one to step up with a flippant remark about the cultural wasteland of Maine, but Frock’n'Roll sure shut my mouth. Except to say that you’ve blown me away, Hannah. Good job.
(Find photos from the event here.)
