You already know, how this will end...

Music is to me, what it is to probably everyone…a place card or a folded page for a bookmark in time. We get pleasant or not so pleasant remembrances of moments past and cherished, when a marker reaches our ears again. Unfolding something we may have forgotten….or pushed down. It materializes like a mist…”oh yeah, I remember when”.

Sometimes a song can play perfectly to a moment, like your own personal soundtrack. Case in point: leaving on a rushed flight from San Francisco back to Seattle. My mind was a writhing tape worm feeding on my congested thoughts, gorging and producing yet more thoughts in its waste. The whole flight was spent staring out my window above the clouds, thinking, thinking….thinking. What’s next? I must admit, I’ve forced myself into the notion of ‘nomad’ by packing a van and leaving California. Even moving to Seattle, a city I’ve loved for as long as I can remember, I still found it difficult to get a stronghold; or roots, making it truly feel like home. I don’t believe I ever thought Washington as my final resting place. And as such, I’ve trashed about in my mind as to how long I would stay and the realization that this move, this destination, is nothing but a stepping stone to the next thing in my quest for happiness. Ultimately, it’s been a reboot for me; an adventure, a much needed break from the norm.

What does this have to do with music? As the plane descended through the clouds, Devotchka’s “How it Ends” began to play with its familiar organ notes, joined by accordion, joined by piano…building and building. I use to get excited flying into Seattle, this time I felt sadness. Having just spent a comfortable weekend in the bay area soaking up some much needed sun; I was reminded what it felt like to be on the California coastline, in a city I have always harbored a joy for…once this song came on, I just felt sadness. Yes, I do know how this ends…it ends with me moving, yet again.

Just when this song reaches a strong point with Nick Urata belting out (plane descending) “aaaand you already know…how…this…will end”, (plane descending) “YOU ALREADY KNOW...how this will end”(tires thudding) the plane touched down perfectly on that last note: “end”; violins picking up and carrying you to the finish. Perfect ending to my silent anguished thoughts; what next Mel? I’m still figuring out the fine details, but nomad is once again in my future.

No fears, just titillation for yet another adventure. I do however feel restlessness for something new to begin, things to unfold, desires to be met, dreams of happiness to come to fruition. Whereas Arcade Fire was my exit music from California…I am thinking Devotchka will be my usher out of Washington. To be precise, “the Last Beat of my Heart” seems fitting for such an emotional movement…Washington has a special spot in my heart, until that last beat

Broken Social Scene 2/5/09-Showbox Sodo

"If you always get up late, you’ll never be on time..."

(strength in numbers)

I know on this blog (aside from making up the occasional word) I like to throw around the word ‘full’ as a description for a band’s sound pretty freely like a game of “Keep the Hooker’s Peg Leg Away”. Well seeing as how I have no professional knowledge of music, let alone completely knowing how to play an instrument…it goes without saying that my vocabulary is a bit lax on the subject. So here I go armed with a dandy thesaurus…let’s count how many times I use the word ‘full’ in this entry.

After beginning my night at Neumo’s with a few cocktails and beers snuck out of the VIP room…I hastily ran off to Showbox Sodo. The show was sold out, maxed to the gills but luckily for me, a very special, spectacular young man, had put a ticket aside for me. He belongs on the cover of a Wheaties box, that one.

My companion for the evening was a bonnie lass; a pistol; a firecracker, and my tour guide of enjoyment. Where I was still a bit naive on the BSS tip(yes, I'm well aware of joys Wikipedia), she was teeming with experience of their voluminous musical library…at one point screaming “No pressure boys!!! NO PRESSURE” and me, along with a few others, judging by their looks, sitting there going “wow, she’s a bit harsh on the band” until they started playing and it became clear as an obvious shout out to the band “AHHHHHH(big animated a-HA face, by me). Then again, she could have jumped up on stage and pissed on their amp and it really wouldn’t have offended my snarky ass. Rock on girl, do your thang!!!

When the first guitar cords of KC Accidental struck, strong and loud backed by powerful drums, blasting my pleading eardrums, I was instantly blown and given chills. Both Showbox locations invoke an internal battle with me; sometimes bands sound great, sometimes like banshees screeching in a pillow fight. Not the case this night…this band was a pure spot on delight tickling my love bone. I dare say their performance has kicked up a new romance from me towards them…several of their songs cause me to shut my eyes, shake my head and absorb the full meal they are offering me…In fact I’m doing it now at my desk to “Stars and Sons”, my coworkers are laughing…because yes, I am clapping along. WHAAAA?!

BSS had about 32 members on the stage; ok, more like 10 or so, with a high kicking chorus line, a couple of dancing Orangutans and a donkey. To say their cup runneth over, might be an understatement. Alas, with all those peeps on stage, they give you a sound capable of gorging your ears with gooey goodness; horns, vocals, melodies ranging on ambient, girls, guys, guitar strategery, drum beats…It’s easy to get caught up in their bursting vibe of fun times, allowing your body to let loose and move to the music. I must admit, my shit totally spillith over, when they played Shoreline; dipping my head down, eyes closed and swayed to the music. Heaven.

(cell phone Chuck Norris attack)

Unfortunately for us, the show was cut short, as we had previous obligations back at Neumo’s for a friend’s performance. Nevertheless, I enjoyed a full hour’s date with the group and I can say with a high degree of certainty, that I will see them again, the next time they are within proximity of my old ass.

(FYI, I said “full” 9 times. Not too shabby)