The DarkSide of the Wall
Saturday, January 23rd, 2010
The Brown Theater
Better Than: Going to the dentist…?
     

     I have spent at least ten minutes trying to remember what music I listened to in middle school through freshmen year of high school, and the only thing that prominently comes to mind are the words Pink Floyd. This is when I realized that through that entire period of my life I listened to virtually nothing else. There may be a foggy memory of Dinosaur Jr’s Green Mind, or a Mars Volta album somewhere in the mix, but as far back as I can remember (and that’s not very far), I lost my entire middle school/9th grade years to Pink Floyd, and there’s no regret there. I’ve benefited from the binge. From an exhausting knowledge of their catalog, to a growing affection that becomes stronger as the years go by, I find that having such a strong connection to a band is like having affection for a kitten: it’s unconditional. Even if they may wet on your rug, that really tied the room together (Momentary Lapse of Reason, ahem), or split up because one of the members is a little difficult, you find a way to overlook that flaw. The great thing about having this affection for such a high capacity band like Pink Floyd is that there are so many different albums, eras, and sounds to get into at once. You’re never left bored or pining for more; it is emotionally and physically satisfying. The downside to liking a band like Floyd, though, is that two very significant members are already dead. Syd Barrett may have been kicked out of the troupe earlier on, but it doesn’t stop that part of Pink Floyd from being totally irreplaceable. How are we supposed to expect a reunion now that Richard Wright is dead? This is where tribute bands come in.

There’s always been a sort of 50/50 love-hate affection I’ve had with tribute bands, but when your long time favorite band is slowly dying off, sometimes you have no other choice, especially when you long to hear that music amplified to a live capacity. I’ve seen The Pink Floyd Experience twice: four years ago in Huntington, West Virginia and roughly one year ago while residing in Louisville. Both sets were sensually satisfying, but not because they played “Wish You Were Here”- in fact, they didn’t play it at all. They were satisfying because they took time to cover virtually every era of Floyd, cascading from the late Division Bell to the ancient jam tune known as “Astronomy Domine.” No Floyd was left behind. So after seeing this band twice, I’ve had pretty high expectations when it comes to these kinds of concerts.

The DarkSide of the Wall is a Louisville-based band consisting of what the website claims as “some of the top music and production talent in the region.” Unfortunately, there is a difference between being exceptional and genuine. I totally understand the concept of playing what the crowd may want to hear, but sometimes the crowd isn’t all middle aged washups. Perhaps there are eager high school girls crammed between drunkards who simply wish to hear a song from Obscured by Clouds, or maybe just a couple tracks from Relics. It’s hardly a selfish thing to ask for; after all, why would we want to hear songs we hear consistently on 107.7 anyway? No luck. It was all strictly Dark Side and The Wall as their name fittingly proclaims. Although I have no complaints about hearing “Welcome to the Machine” or “Pigs,” I just kind of wished there would be more variety. You would be considered naive to think this set list did any justice.
But the set list wasn’t the only problem I noticed with the band. There were several instances during the show where specific guitar solos were omitted and replaced with  vocal solos instead. Take the second acoustic solo in “Wish You Were Here,” the glorious moment when David Gilmour scat vocals with his guitar: completely ignored here. It’s almost like the guitar player was either too stupid or too lazy to learn the solo. Even I know how to play that solo. I also noticed a problem with the band’s guitar tones, specifically on songs like “Run Like Hell” or “Pigs” where the initial guitar tone is absolutely key. I’ve listened to these songs enough to know a wrong tone when I hear one. As opposed to the hollow and twang-like tone used in these tracks, the band adapted a heavier and almost metalesque sound that didn’t work well with the music they were supposed to be playing. The lead guitarist was also prone to jumping around the stage as if in a slow motion mosh pit, something I’ve never seen David Gilmour do on stage before. His only job is to play and look cute!

I feel I could fill up another paragraph about how I was close to walking out mid-show or about the sloppy vocals on “The Great Gig in the Sky,” but I guess I should have seen this coming. I can’t expect less-than-perfect musicians to give me the absolutely perfect show that I want. That’s not what a tribute band is about. They may know how to play all the notes and use all the right lights at the right time, but it all comes down to the fact that it’s not Floyd. Not even close. These are merely people like me, committed in their fanship, just in a different way. I know I wasn’t fortunate enough to be born in a time where a Pink Floyd tour was the norm, but I wish that I could at least have a taste.  Just a little bite.

Dinosaur Jr., Lou Barlow and The Missingmen
Friday, October 16, 2009
Headliner’s Music Hall
Better than: Any experience in my life leading up to this show.

One thing I’ve learned about Headliners is that they really don’t give a doodle about your age. Although, it’s not particularly a bad thing; eighteen and over shows should be banished altogether. Really, why? No one’s buying beer with their little wristbands and hand stamps; no underage child is going to go home drunk. It seems that there is an unfair prejudice against people under 18, and with a band like Dinosaur Jr. arriving in town, the hate should stop here. To my absolute pleasure, it did. Eighteen or no, I got through that door.

The only downside to my experience was arriving extremely late. I missed Lou Barlow and The Missingmen’s set -a total bummer because this time, I actually wanted to see the opening act. But my absence was made up for (see paragraph 4) and I believe it was well deserved. After all, who can deny the significance of flowers? Carrying a bouquet around a gig is a sure way to get noticed, at least; making friends this night was far from avoidable. It’s nice being able to charm your way to the front.

Around came 9:00 and J Mascis took the stage, unnatural platinum hair swaying side to side with awkward bluesy sound checks and all. I never expected to take J for a bashful guy, but aside from mumbled thanks in between songs, he said nothing the entire set (this, of course, assuming he sang lyrics.) But modesty aside, the set list was insane. Predictably, tracks from Farm took up a good portion of the night -”I Don’t Wanna Go There” included an extended jam, along with a funky version of “Over It” and the record’s catchy opener, “Pieces.” But old school Dino fans got their treat as well. You’re Living All Over Me’s “Little Fury Things,” Bug’s “Freak Scene” and the popular “Feel the Pain” of Without a Sound were also honored. Keep in mind (for those who aren’t familiar with the band) Lou Barlow is in Dinosaur Jr., even though he also produces solo work and was one of the founding members of Sebadoh. For the record, I love Sebadoh. And deciding whether my bouquet should be given to J Mascis or Lou was an epic on its own. This, along with a few drunken dancing wash-ups, was my only distraction of the night.

It turns out my internal conflict was decided for me. Immediately proceeding the show, J Mascis hightailed to the tour bus and never came out, no answer to my urgent knocks and still no Lou to be seen. As with the Melvins, I figured lurking near the backside of the building was my best option, so I shot the breeze with some of Lou’s old college friends, one of whom stole part of my heart.*

The whole ordeal lasted for at least two hours after the show had ended, but in the end Lou got my flowers and he wrote me a note in thanks. It was actually the first time I’ve had a real conversation with one of my underground heroes. And I didn’t cry this time. It’s not like I try to be the creepy fan chick anyway, it just comes naturally. But we’ll see how long this newfound coolness fairs. Meat Puppets are hitting Headliners Nov. 17th. You bet I’m there.

Melvins, Weedeater, Evil Army and Down
Monday, September 28, 2009
Headliners Music Hall
Better than: Nearly every rock show I’ve ever seen.

Perhaps it’s dry city for Down fans, or maybe too many people just don’t like Pantera, but I was expecting sheer mayhem. Hardly anyone was risking their limbs to be up front to, at the least, catch a glimpse of Phil Anselmo or even Jimmy Bower assaulting his drums. It’s one of the very few occasions where people care more about the opening act than the actual headliner; it was beautiful.

The Melvins graced the stage by 9:00, as promised by Coady Willis whom I had spoken to earlier while waiting in line outside. I caught him before the band was apparently going out to eat (-yeah I know! It’s like they’re real people too!), and fortunately he remembered me. We had previously spoke after a Big Business show and we talked about tapeworms or something; sorta eerie, but mostly exciting. Buzz came out wearing his signature suede smock/turtleneck thing, immediately breaking into the set’s first song, while the band’s two drummers, Dale Crover and Coady Willis, pounded ferociously on their two drum sets. Among the night’s setlist was Houdini’s “Hooch” and “Night Goat,” along with “Billy Fish” and “The Kicking Machine” from their ‘07 release Nude With Boots. The audience was treated to a dose of comedy as well. Between three and four song intervals, Buzz would stop to tell some kind of  obscure joke no one really understood (or at least didn’t hear over ringing feedback), but we would pretend to laugh and think it’s funny anyway. It’s Buzz, after all.

The show was great, yada yada. But here’s where it really comes down to:

The Melvins have been one* of my favorite bands, at least since 10th grade, and are probably the only artists who have survived my drastic change in apparent ‘taste’. This wasn’t a promotional tour. The Melvins haven’t had a new album since 2008. Ultimately, this tour was for the fans, (and maybe for some money too), but more importantly, for me. So you can probably imagine my immediate reaction when I was personally escorted behind the band’s tour bus. Buzz in front of me, and my arms around his neck.

I am an emotional person.

I have no other reaction except to cry.

And to think I never understood those girls in the 70’s, who ripped each other’s heads off  in the presence of John Lennon or Paul McCartney. To me, it was part of the era, and to me it looks ridiculous. But that’s just how I was to everyone else. I was the sobbing teenage girl who could barely speak, and when I did, in complete gibberish. The only issue was that I didn’t care. You get so overwhelmed with excitement and gratitude that it doesn’t even seem real. It’s everything you’ve dreamed of in front of you, and you’re hugging it.

I encountered Dale Crover later in the night, along with a couple dudes from Weedeater. I cried in front of them, too. Maybe it was the alcohol (I literally had 12 beers), or it could have been the Buzz overhaul still seeping in, but I couldn’t stop. The only thing that really sinks in now is that it was definitely worth coming home extremely late for. I would get grounded for the Melvins any day.

*The list of artists I label as ‘one’ are usually considered my absolute favorite. Although, given the amount of absolute favorites I actually have, I still feel using the word ‘one’ lessens Melvins value to me. It’s like saying Tom Waits is one of the greatest songwriters of all time. What I mean is that he actually is the greatest songwriter of all time, among others. Therefore, there’s no specific way to classify something I consider to the absolute best. I just, like the Melvins…a lot.