BBQ, Revolutions, and Rock.
Today was quite the recoup of a Sunday, more than usual. Last night rock & roll grabbed my throat, and wouldn’t let go. Somebody got thrown out, beer flew to and from the stage, fighting reared its head, and IT WAS LOUD. I feel like everything I love about going to rock shows exposed itself to me last night. No experience feels quite like it. Playing a rock show is similar, but still different. The crowd last night fed off the unrepentant vibes of the bands. You won’t find a one-two punch quite like the Giraffes > Local H combination. This IS American Rock & Roll. These guys all love what they do. The Giraffes really fucking blew me away; both in their approach and delivery. So many people have asked me lately what kind of music Local H and/or The Giraffes play, and there really are only two ways to answer that question: 1) Rock, or 2) Rock & Roll. Probably in its most pure forms. The carelessness, the boldness.
Particularly after my last show (which was Foo Fighters in a giant arena), last night shook me from my daze. My daze that rock always will evolve into light shows, $50 tickets, massive set pieces, and wireless packs. But no, the club/bar show in this country is alive and fucking well. And there’s no greater venue for the animal to eat the carcass, the killer to slit the throat, than that bar down the street from the nicer bars. The place where frat dudes won’t go because they know they’ll be looked down upon, that or they don’t think there’re enough “hot chicks”. Once again, I was forced to breakup more than one fight. Some guy bought me a beer simply because I’m from 3 or 4 states north. I cheers-ed many a folk, some of whom didn’t know what the fuck I was trying to do. Overall: people were cool last night. And there’s always an asshole or two, in any bunch.
We got some good ass BBQ tonight (supposedly the best the city offers, there are four of them), and I noticed that people were all really cool to me. Almost like I’d fit in here, if I had a little drawl. KC, Kansas City by the way. And we began discussing the Minnesota nice/Southern nice differences. Sometimes, I think the former is only a tiny bit more honest. Less smiley nice, more good-natured nice. But these people = good people. Tomorrow I’ll inevitably begin the week long chaff binge. No responsibilities. No worries. There’s a guitar shop I’ll probably check out (the guy who goes in knowing he won’t buy anything, but still asks to play the 79′ Telecaster ReIssue), and a vinyl store too. I’ve got no way of listening to music in the room though beyond headphones, which blows. Or computer speakers I guess, which blows too.
Coincidence can be a weird thing (that sometimes makes me wonder about the nature of the phenomenon). The Revolution, The American Revolution, continues popping up into my lap. First it started as a thought to re-read Joseph Ellis’ Founding Brothers, which is probably the best history novel I’ve ever read. And a great examination of the sometimes shockingly all-too human aspects of the men who started a new social order. This concept also came up on the tele here, in the form of the HBO movie John Adams. Tom Wilkinson, Paul Giamatti, Laura Linney, Justin Theroux? What ISN’T to like? Once again, I’m coming back to center. No. ORIGIN. Could the carriers of the down-but-never-out American Rock & Roll torch possibly compare to the revolutionaries of those first 50 years? Maybe if they were alive today they wouldn’t be politicians, not in today’s landscape. No. MAYBE they’d small time it, bringing honesty to the table somewhere between the feedback and the vomit.
-Sonny
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