But before Arcade Fire, a wildly pleasant surprise: Opening act LCD Soundsystem was so good, they may have ruined me on listening to them. I knew a wee bit about them beforehand, and from the context, I figured I'd like them well enough for an opener.
But then they go and put on a show that left me and Mrs. Fall of Because catching our breath between sets. We were nearly drained before Arcade Fire even hit the stage because LCD Soundsystem kept us so engaged. We needed every bit of the intermission to regroup.
LCD Soundsystem played a set of techno-styled dance music, accented with funk-and-scratch guitars and backed by great groovy bass and a tireless drummer. These were techno-ish beats -- the furious kind a DJ would simply hit a button to get moving -- played out live by a real, relentless, sweating drummer. And all performers were lined up spread around the front of stage, with the drummer turned to the side, so we had a great view of his performance without it being blocked by his kit or the rest of the band.
The lead singer -- a record producer who started this project on his own -- has a bit of a average Joe appearance, from which emits witty lyrics and an entertaining ability to sing in all sorts of styles. (He also plays a bit of multi-pitched cowbell, among other essential percussion).
There were several keyboards -- I think one keyboardist was missing for family reasons, so rotating Arcade Fire members filled in -- using different synthesizer tones, sometimes to provide accents or atmospherics and sometimes to provide the main, pulsing rhythm. I LOVE it when a variety of instruments are well-used in a variety of ways (which partly explains my unyielding appreciation for Arcade Fire).
One song of theirs, "All My Friends," I had heard before, but where? ... A-ha: A Slate music column devoted to the song and its covers (wow, why doesn't that ring a stronger bell? That was just a few months ago ...). That column even aims to explain the song's apparent popularity (episode #291 of me being late to the party), in words I basically agree with:
"At heart, 'All My Friends' is a poignant piece of songwriting designed to resonate with those in the upper limits of the 18-to-34-year-old demographic. It's a song written by a middle-ager that looks back upon the kinds of simple momentary glories it's likely soundtracking this summer: hanging out, joking around, escaping into flings, and dancing on drugs."
Actually, though, I personally get out of "All My Friends" a general melancholic resignation to dealing with the mix of a fast-moving, corporate-oriented, career-pursuit, info-overloaded world while really just wanting to take a breath and enjoy the good things in life (like friends) -- but that's unquestionably my personal spin. The combo of frenetic rhythm and his ponderous vocals gives me that feel.
Also get that feel from lyrics like: You spent the first five years trying to get with the plan, and the next five years trying to be with your friends, again.
and
It comes apart, the way it does in bad films. Except the part, where the moral kicks in.
You drop the first 10 years just as fast as you can, and the next 10 people who are trying to be polite. When you're blowing 85 days in the middle of France, Yeah, I know it gets tired only where are your friends tonight?
and
And with a face like a dad and a laughable stand, You can sleep on the plane or review what you said. When you're drunk and the kids look impossibly tan You think over and over, 'Hey, I'm finally dead.'
Anyway, they were already blowing me away before they got to that song -- at which point that connection of familiarity and past "I've been moved by this song before" kicked in.
I have an annoying habit of hearing the riffs, drumbeats, or general timing of other songs in the middle of completely unrelated music. Hence at the beginning of "Daft Punk is Playing at my House" I heard Collective Soul's "Gel" and -- as if to unburden myself from the conflict in my head -- I felt compelled to sing "Gel" to Mrs. Fall of Because during the riff in question.
Since their set I've revisited some of their stuff online, and maybe I need to buy it and play it on the home stereo, because it doesn't come close to capturing the beauty of that live experience.
I always thought those sentiments were what "Wish You Were Here" was really about: finding oneself battling the business of living (or record producing, or corporate shillism) and wondering, where ARE those friends, those people who shared my REAL life?
By KayO - 10/6/2007 5:32 AM
Ooh, interesting. Yes, I like that. "Lost souls swimming in a fishbowl" and all.
As you may have noticed, the site has changed. Sampa, the free-site host, did a version 2 of some sort.
Despite an FAQ that made it sound like allowing one's site to go through v.2 surgery would be okay, there were several flexibilities that surprisingly disappeared with the click of a button. (e.g. I cannot believe sidebars like this one are even narrower than before.)
And I'm told -- miraculously! -- that the conversion cannot be undone. Truth be told, I'm actually quite pissed. But free is free. Sampa has otherwise been good to me.
So I need to sort through site "features" to see how I can make do. Except that I don't have the time at the moment, in the middle of graduate classes and Lighthousehockey.com. (btw, I've removed that Lighthouse RSS feed so that you're not clogged with random Islanders hockey gibberish).
But I promise to touch up the accessories when I get a chance, and return to irregularly scheduled blogging.
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February, 2008