Radiohead, White River Amp 8/20/08

Oh. My. Fucking. Gawd.
My mind has been blown; I am the Jon and Radiohead is thy prostitute.

From the minute they took the stage, I knew I was in for concert going experience that might possibly have blown my first going experience (GNR/Rolling Stones, entry coming soon), out of the hemisphere. I was stone sober for this event, sitting amongst the periodic funny smelling smoke clouds and frankly, I’m glad I was. I felt like I was able to enjoy the show without bladder emergencies and absorb every fucking detail that was being given to me.

The weather seemed fitting…emo ‘I’m an agro spent youth and NO ONE GETS ME!’ gloom, would be an understatement. The clouds looked like angry murky grey waves viewed from the ocean floor, with the ever looming threat of a downpour; which didn’t actually start until ‘Dollars and Cents’, at which point I could say “Radiohead has made me proper wet in the pants” and literally mean it. I embraced the rain with my face turned to the sky; the cold however and being able to see my breathe with frozen toes in the middle of August-no so much.

I would’ve never bought a ticket for this show on my own. Not that I dislike them, I have managed to get almost every album for my collection, but more for the fact that I assumed, rightfully so, that it would be sleepy-time event, where a comfy la-z-boy recliner would be greatly benefited over the ass callus producing seats that the builders presume are acceptable. The price of tickets for a show of this caliber normally waylays my decision against the splurging. Thankfully, Anna prevailed and had an extra ticket; with regrets of it being in the lawn section, to which, I cared not-even with the rain. From my vantage point, Yorke was approximately a size that could fit on my thumbnail; again, I didn’t care. It’s not like this is a Manson show where you want to see every detail cause they get crazy on stage; this is a kick back gig, ie: sleepy time. So needless to say, I didn’t’ deem it necessary to be close enough to watch Yorke’s crazy flailing Charlie Manson moves
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Rau4i1PohH8

(Thom Yorke sizes may vary)

The stage was flanked by large monitors that not only showed the band, but adapted to the curtains of LED. Speaking of LED’s…before the show started, we noticed the stage hands rolling out several rows of tubing from the top of the stage. Seizures be damned, cause once that shit got going, you were hypnotized with an array of patterns, flashing and a kaleidoscope of hues to capture every song’s mood. The pairing of lighting effects to the music just pushed their performance over the top; far beyond anything I've exerpienced in my concert goings.

The LED set up:
http://www.radiohead.com/themostgiganticflyingmouthforsometime/ViewEntry.html?EntryID=52

the power to run it:
http://www.radiohead.com/themostgiganticflyingmouthforsometime/
Suck this *band points at crotches* money hungry electric company swine! We’ll go green and use solar power and lower the emissions. You ain’t getting our duckets!

In terms of sound…I haven’t been to many blockbuster shows, I just prefer the intimacy of smaller theaters over the crowds and sometimes horrific blown out sounds of the bigger venues. Given that fact, I must say the sound for this show was by far, some of the best I’ve heard, big or small. The clarity, fullness and the fact that you could make out every note without the need for earplugs, was something my ears and body took in with great pleasure.

Given the combo of the near flawless sound and dazzling visuals, a few key songs stood out in my mind:
Pyramid Song- The stage appeared to be underwater, swimming in a blue lit hue, Greenwood, (Johnny I presume), channeled Jimmy Page, by playing his guitar as a stand up with a bow, creating a creepy whine, which carried on while Yorke played the piano at a slower tempo than the recorded version.

(Pyramid song)

National Anthem-began with a red laser light show; best described as taking a laser pin and going crazy against the wall, in a breakneck way that makes your cat go nuts. When the song starts to build with the horns into a general mess of noise and the repetition of “its holding on”, the red laser continues but is now joined by all the tubes being blue lit in a fashion that resembles a fuzzy t.v. screen, a la Poltergeist. Imagine that blue fuzz, coupled with the bright red snaking through it, and you’ve got ocular assault.

http://www.flickr.com/photo_embed.gne?id=2784896402

(just a taste of the above mentioned)

The Gloaming- started with a monitor panel on the floor of the stage, beating like a heart, in an emerald green hue in tempo with the base drum. When the chorus of “They should be ringing” with the building of the music, the LED tubes lit up, replicating a very fitting, emerald green ‘downpour’ onto the stage. I must admit, the coloring reminded me of the Wizard of Oz’s Emerald Castle.

(the Gloaming)

And one point, in all of their glorious flawlessness, Greenwood and Yorke take main stage to do an acoustic version of Faust Arp; to which Yorke screws up on the lyrics a few times; proving that he/they are not super human. He proceeds to start singing Neil Young's "Tell Me Why"; mumbling the words he doesn’t know; laughs; says “fuck it!” and continues on to finish the intended song. It’s good to see bands have fun and laugh in the face of mistakes instead of having teen temper tantrums and destroying their equipment before storming off in a “Mom won’t let me wear this slutty top-STOP CONTROLLING ME!” hissy fit off the stage. (yes, I like run on fluff sentences)

How to Disappear Completely. Sent Anna into a 50's musical love lorn look, with folded hands under her chin and one foot raised

Idioteque-was impressive for the bright white lighting patterns; you tube video attached
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0cvoFGXQrRo
(of course the video does it no justice. Key word search radiohead+white river, for more videos)

(Idioteque)

Set list:
01. 15 Step

02. Reckoner

03. Optimistic

04. There There

05. All I Need

06. Pyramid Song

07. Talk Show Host

08. The National Anthem

09. The Gloaming

10. Videotape

11. Lucky

12. Faust Arp

13. Jigsaw Falling Into Place

14. Climbing Up The Walls

15. Dollars and Cents

16. Nude

17. Bodysnatchers

Encore 1

18. How to Disappear Completely

19. Arpeggi/Weird Fishes

20. Idioteque

21. In Limbo

22. Street Spirit

Encore 2

23. You And Whose Army? [Thom dedicates to the people who demonstrated against the WTO in Seattle in 1999]

24. No Surprises

25. Everything In Its Right Place

In all they played a 2hour set and I was pleased that I knew all but one song "Talk show host" and was a little sad they didn't play my fav "Exit music (for a film)"; which I understand...noboyd wants to pass out in a puddle of drool in front of their peers. I think next time they come through, I will have to shell out the money for closer seats, just to get the full effect of band member visuals.

Reaching for the Gold

(US men win 4x100m, by a fingertip)

I’m groggy. I stayed up past my old lady bed time of 10pm to watch the Olympics; more exact, to watch the men’s 4x100m relay. Holy FUCK, talk about an exciting race, probably one of the best relays/race I’ve seen. Most of the excitement stemmed from the French talking smack about "smashing" the US; which isn’t my beef, some are just better; but when you throw in the shit talk, you deserve huge disappointment. Show some fucking class, much like my oh so ladylike self. BURP. So we had the lead, until the 3rd leg of our team lost it a bit, to the point where the 4th leg, 33 yr old Jason Lezak, had a body length to gain on first place. Going into the turn, I thought we were getting the silver, thus ending Phelps race for 8 golds, but the final 50meters Lezak somehow found the strength to pull on the Frenchy poop head; which trust, when you’re sprinting, it’s hard to pull out anymore. He took one massive dive to the finish and out touched by .08 of a second. The French’s response: “they didn’t win, they just out touched”. However you want to call it, the Americans got the gold and Bernard was left at the wall staring in disbelief before putting his head down.

In my opinion, the chance to even go to the games is heart fulfilling enough; silver, gold or bronze, you’re the best of the best. If there is one thing I regret in life, it is not realizing my dreams of giving it a shot for the Olympics. From the time I was 6 and my parents dragged us out on a warm summer night to some street to watch the torch be passed en route to the LA Coliseum; me with my M&M’s and boredom, not knowing what it all meant; listening to people cheer and peering through legs to get a view of a jogging man carrying a lit torch…that’s all it took, that was my first remembered Olympics. The rest is history. I dreamed from then on to try and attend. I was too big for gymnastics and too slow for track and once I witnessed Janet Evans in 88’, it was swimming all the way for me.

Maybe it’s my days of winning our league championships that bring Queen’s “We are the champions/We will rock you” into my head when I watch epic swimming events like this…at any rate, it’s a good song for the rivalry that France created against the US. Perhaps it’ll go along with Phelps if he wins all 8 gold medals. Even if he doesn’t, which is my belief because that’s just too much fucking pressure on the poor kid and let’s not forget the other great swimmers out there; but if he does, he’ll have earned every pretty snatch that will now be thrown his direction because of it. Keep on playa, you are the Champion


(Good Golly Phelps advertising the bod to the masses)

Pandora, not the box, but the site

As the wagon is still broken and I ride the public trans with the rest of the Hellevue drones, I am developing quite the addiction to Mocha's; tall non-fat, no whip, extra chocolate-Mocha’s, to be exact.

How is this your problem? Well, you clicked on this page, so it just is…and now I get to offend your eyes with my incoherent caffeine rambling words and utter bullshit. Ramble On…

I know I’m behind the times and just recently discover the joys of Pandora. And I know it is there to introduce you to new music you may have never heard of based off of the music selections you input into their genome…and on that level, it’s fucking fantastic (like: waking up in your bed after a night of drinking, naked, and there’s a body lying next to you and SCORE, they’re actually attractive! Now only if you can remember if you actually GOT some) Although, the site has introduced me to loads of new music and as of late, is sadly replacing my uber radio crush, KEXP; there’s one thing it can’t do: dedicate an entire station to just one band. Sometimes I have a hankering for a particular band, and of those sometimes, I don’t fully have the album collection; and damn it, I don’t want to use up my limited skips and rejections in hopes of hearing this band. Like Veruca Salt, I WANT IT NOW! Is it so damned hard to satisfy a fucking itch?! Possibly if it’s in the unmentionable region and you’re out in public, so you try to do some sort of squat, leg cross shift, to make your clothing do the itching for you, without having to blatantly reach down and scratch.

Ok, time to ween off the java, seriously

So the pros: It breaks down bands/songs you choose, into key elements and determines other music that fits the style, thus possibly introducing you to cool new shit
It also has NO commercials; at least on air commercials that assault your ears
You like something, you can buy it now

Some of my gripes: Can’t make a station band specific
Sometimes there’s a glitch in the Matrix and the system will lag as it “tries to determine” the next song to play
You may have inputted Karate, and the thing chooses Black Sabbath to play next. How the HELL it got that from Karate, I’ll never know.

Overall, it’s good shit when you’re tired of the weird DJ selections or repeating top 40

My dream station...

(took me hours to get this combo. OCD is thy name)

Am I listening to the soundtrack of "Love Actually" here?!

(just a fraction of the sometimes upwardly 9 piece band)

If you’re not going to the KEXP BBQ or are strapped for some cash, South Lake Union is having a block party…for FREE; and the only band that I’m familiar with is Grand Hallway. Decent mellow band hailing from good ole Seattle, with strings, slide guitar, piano and all the rest of the normal set up. I have a hard time placing them in any sort of musical category at which to compare or contrast. At any rate, with the lead singers androgynous voice liken to that of Sunny Day Real Estate or Silver Sun Pickups, it’s easy to see how you can sit out on the lawn with some wine, your favorite blankie or warm body and just chill

(singer Tomo Nakayama)

http://www.myspace.com/grandhallway

I saw these guys by pure happenstance at Showbox Sodo while visiting a bartender friend back in October 07. After what seemed like a looooong warm up, making me thinking they were armature and that I was in for a yawning experience; I was pleasantly surprised. They pack a punch.

Just a side note: off of their 07 release Yes is the Answer; “Seward Park”, is fast becoming my favorite song. With a soft beginning building with strong piano and strings, then stalling and building. It’s one of those songs that would fit perfectly into a love movie with one stupid character realizing they fucked up and running head long through crowded traffic filled streets towards the other stupid character who’s heading to the airport to move away to some far off land to do some stupid charity work. Or I dunno, the two stupid characters just part, all sad like, and I laugh. Bitter? Meh. Take this rant for what its worth as a description for their style.

Vampire Weekend, Cap Hill Block Party, 7/25/08

(so innocent, you could take em home to mama)

Now, from what I remember, their sound was fantastic; sounding as good as the recording. But I wasn’t fully sure, due to the fact I was 3 sheets to the thar wind by the time they took to the stage. So thankfully some less inebriated soul caught it on his camera:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Asic_V9eYos
(I know this is not Scorsese shit, but at least you can tell that they sounded good, thus proving my judgment was not skewed by booze and surrounding distractions)

So the first time these wee young pups from Columbia University came through Seattle, I had just learned about them, and subsequently was too slow on the draw to nab a ticket to their sold out show. Blasted!!! But thank you oh so much, to my peeps for rubbing it my face on how much they rocked it. Uh huh and here’s some rusty spikes in Green lake for you to fall on as I trip your ass, ninja style (cause you won’t see me coming-get it?!).

I’ve heard their style likened to Simon and Garfunkel, but I have a hard time fully accepting that comparison. I’m going to date myself a bit and say it reminds me of a few bands from way back when, Madness and The Specials; not that comparing them to Le Simon and Le Garfunhizzle makes that person any less old than I. Now, I realize I just named off two English Ska bands, and no, I’m not saying that Vamp is a spot on ringer for Ska. But, in the grand scheme of things, this is what they remind me of with their poppy beats and rhythms. I mean, the shit just makes you wanna move, much like the way Ska made you want to skank (the dance, not you’re cheap half bastard sister with a peg leg).

Another style, which apparently “Cape Cod Kwassa Kwassa", and "Oxford Comma", derive from, is Congolese Soukous music:
“Soukous (also known as Lingala or Congo, and previously as African rumba) is a musical genre that originated in the two neighboring countries of Belgian Congo and French Congo during the 1930s and early 1940s, and which has gained popularity throughout Africa. "Soukous" (said to be a derivative of the French word secouer, to shake)was originally the name of a dance popular in the Congas in the late 1960s, and danced to an African version of rumba.”
(I seriously don’t know what I’d do if I couldn’t copy and paste from Wikipedia)
I can see the shake description, as those two songs definitely make me want to shimmy. In fact, I was dancing up a storm during their set; I think I burned off a good 1000 calories of booze. zexy

Now the block party as a whole…repeat after me:
I MUST eat food before I drink
I MUST eat food before I drink
I MUST eat food before I drink…

Ok, so you don’t have to repeat after ME, but I think I should at least get this shit tattooed on my forearm as a mantra; cause eating a wheat then with a lemon zest thinking I’m on some super model diet, is no way to survive on my drinking habits. Due to the fact that I ingested a decent amount of alcohol this year on said empty stomach, helped me to maintain my annoyance amongst the masses; and yes, I managed to have a good time without the urge of putting the smack down. (If I remember correctly, last year, I advanced on a trouble maker with heel in hand; until the ex stopped me). I learned that avoiding the beer garden with their $4 Miller High Life drafts (you can get a 6can tall boy pack for that cost), and hitting up the happy hours at the bars instead; will not only save you some serious coin, but keep you from wetting yourself like a 4year old scared by clowns because you don’t want to use a porto shitter. Let’s face facts, no one wants to use, let alone plant their dainty derriere on one of those things. So unfair boys got a point and shoot device, giving them the freedom on peeing on a tree without uncomfortable squatting and praying you don’t piss on your shoes or loose your balance and fall in your fresh puddle-wait, sugar ramble.

(always a pillar of the community and a fine example of lady-hood)

This year’s line up didn’t grab me as much as last year; or I should say I didn’t try to rush around to see everyone like last year. Neumo’s is a cluster on a normal basis, add in the block party and it’s just fucking hell. So I was pretty much stationed at the Cha Cha, the beer garden and the Comet; with full attempts to watch the oh so smart idea of Girl Talk and the madness on the stage, and Les Savy Fav with the ever dynamo front man Tim Harrington-can I possibly say LSD while preggers with this one?

(Girl Talk, all one of him in white head band)

(guy in wife beater "dude are you playing W.O.W?! I'm totally a level 7 Warlock)

(the drunk masses on stage with Girl Talk)

(Tim Harrington asks "would you like to dig for my belly button lint...with your tongue?)

At any rate, I got away without an indecent exposure citation, my dogs were not barking, I harassed a couple of tall boys, didn’t molest anyone (I think), no fights (I’m actually quite docile, like a lemur), spilled some beers (sorry D), laughed at some smelly hipsters, enjoyed some excellent people watching and caught my reason for coming and the main act in it’s entirety without: passing out, puking, or falling down. I think I did pretty okie dokie

now I just need to make some funnel with a tube that meets up to the vag for a make shift penis, so girls can stand up too!

VIVE LA REVOLUTION!

Some wasted fluff...enjoy!

I'm going stir crazy and while I'm working on posts for this blog I happen to look down at my for-days-shapely gams and notice my horrific tan lines from last weekend's camping trip...

(hmmm, not sure how my honky white ass pulled that one off.)

So as I sit, bored and waiting for the whistle to blow; slightly hyper from the piece of chocolate I consumed...I'm going to rock out to my favorite band to drive to whilst in a hurry or aggro, Static X; and think about the good times I had at their shows...drinking, yelling, watching Wayne's hair defy gravity, thinking about the 'what's his name' guitarist that got caught with a 13 year old girl (oopsy), the excellent people watching and wondering why Mr. Static is looking so bulimic...really sweetie; porn girlfriend not feeding you well? You're still ripped and lovely and I'd still gladly sponge you clean after a rousting game of rugby, but doll...will ya just let me cradle you and feed you some Big Mac's and fries-super sized? Mamma's just a little worried, mmmm-kay?

I thought I did an entry on them awhile ago; alas, I probably trashed it. So I'll say something half assed about them now: YAY. FUN. No seriously, rockin. I've always had good times and they're always entertaining; playing a strong mix of new, along with their oldies that got them in the lime light in the first place. They typically sounds pretty decent to boot, but that mostly depends on the venue. The best venue thus far has been House of Blues in Anaheim. The worst, Showbox Sodo in Seattle.

So seeing how I try to see them whenever they're within a 30mile radius, I might try again to elaborate a bit more on the magical fairytale ride of good Glenda vs evil Monkey, that is their show.

Das Llamas @ The Comet 6/25

While roaming the crowded “Pride” filled streets of Cap Hill on Friday the 25th, I heard a familiar bass line drifting out from the Comet.

“What is this song-I KNOW this song-What the FUCK is it?!”

Thank goodness the streets were closed off for the upcoming parade or I would surely have been creamed by a car like a Hollywood starlet hopped up on coke. I was standing outside the Comet trying hard to figure out the song, as the lyrics were barely audible through the noise. I probably would’ve figured it out sooner had I not ingested so many vodka bevies…but alas…

EUREKA!!!
“I am a patient boy...I wait, I wait, I wait, I wait My time is water down a drain”

HOLY FUCK, IS FUGAZI PLAYING IN SEATTLE AT THE COMET?! FUGAZI BITCHES!! I beg my drinking companions to let me play on the Hill a little longer, they only indulge my request because A.) there’s a hot dog cart right outside and B.) one of them was 86’d seven years ago and she was curious if she could get in.

I start peering through the door, but the crowd keeps me from viewing the band. So I flash my best “I’ll eat you alive” smile and puff up the love muffins towards the door man and gain admittance. Come on, with these Bea Arthur good looks, who could say no? Although, it probably helped that it was 12:30am.

Once inside, I discovered to my dismay that is was not Fugazi, but Das Llamas (not that they're bad, but I had a burning in my loins for the Fug). So I stayed to check out the band and enjoy the remainder of their set. The band was shoved into a corner on the upper level of the bar, so space was cramped for them to get too crazy. Nevertheless, they put on a pretty energetic show, jumping around, shaking their moppy hair mingled with sweat and got the remainding crowd moving. In all, I'll probably make a point to see them again, since the few songs I stayed for actually peaked my interest for a little more exposure. I might even make an effort to write a better, non booze infused entry of fluff about them.

The Comet is like the independent coffee houses/bars and old punk venues of my spent youth. The types of places where the sound is awful, you’re exchanging unwanted fluids of fellow patrons cause it’s so crowded and you could literally smell the band's Jack Daniels ingested breath cause they’re that fucking close to you. On the plus side, it gives you great people watching of the crusties, dusties and smelly hipsters. "Here pretty pretty hipster...let momma feed you a big mac to fill out your 13 year old sister's jeans".