There were a lot of things that I learned when I trekked out to St. Augustine to go catch Earl Greyhound the other night:
Well, maybe that isn't totally true. Julius Airwave's songs (which were sort of like what I imagine a head-on collision between Coldplay's tour bus and a bad Smiths cover band might sound like) left me completely flat. But I totally loved watching their bass player -- because perhaps without knowing it he was the perfect embodiment of every bass player in every alternative band ever.
First off, he loaded his equipment (Ampeg cabinet, Rickenbacker 4003, one cable) on stage himself, plugged in -- made sure he was in tune, and then proceeded to stand in quiet annoyance while the other 4 members of his band proceeded to take 25 more minutes to set up all of their stuff up.
He was wiry thin with one of those olive-brown t-shirts that probably cost $50 but looks like it hadn't been washed ever, revealing just a hint of half-sleeve tattoos on both arms. Once the set started, he knew every song, hit every beat, and looked utterly disinterested in what he was doing the whole time. Occasionally dude would break into a "twist one of your legs in time with the beat without ever taking your foot off the floor" dance move, but once he noticed people were looking it would stop completely. Then when the gig ended he was unplugged, packed up, off the stage, and talking to women before anyone else had even started to break down their gear.
Which I guess is the reasoning that lies at the heart of my sense of music snobbery. Especially when it comes to live music, there are so many things that can ruin it for me. With local bands, it's usually a matter of one or more members of the band being so annoyingly bad at their instruments or respective roles in the group that they actually ruin the potential of a band that might have otherwise been something worth hearing. There's nothing worse than seeing a decent rock band lay down a solid groove only to have some wannabe singer come out and Fred Durst the whole thing. But then there are cases like Julius Airwave where the band has been around a long time, the members clearly knew their stuff, and yet still didn't do anything for me.
But man, I was clearly in the minority on that thought -- because the hipsters in attendance couldn't get enough of that mopey bullshit. Each song ending brought raised cans of PBR in appreciation. It's people like this that keep Moby and the White Stripes in business, and it's getting old. I mean, I'm all for different people liking different styles of music, but if something outright sucks it should be universal, right?
And while I'm at it -- can someone please explain to me why so many hipster dudes will go to any length and expense to look like Jerry Reed? Sure Smokey and the Bandit was a funny movie, but it was never intended as a fashion guide. Besides, what's the point of dressing like a trucker if all you drive is a Nissan Sentra?
I don't know -- maybe I don't have room to talk here; when I was in school I was still doing my best to look like I was one of the guitar players from Ratt -- but even then I still wouldn't lower myself to the level of Pabst.
Here's a hint: You don't need to look like an extra from the set of Hee Haw to see an advanced screening of the latest Wes Anderson film -- all it takes is 10 bucks and a couple hours free on a Tuesday.
1. Kamara Thomas is even hotter in person.
2. Matt Whyte is like 15 feet tall - and if he has anything close to a low-post drop step I want him on my team.
3. The best way to overcome a shitty sound guy is to play so loud you drown out the PA.
4. When it comes to music, Ashley is always right.
5. Pringles are really not an effective pre-drinking dinner choice.
6. Yes, that was a double vodka you ordered.
7. There's no such thing as too many jokes about the white girl dance.
8. Julius Airwave sucks.
Well, maybe that isn't totally true. Julius Airwave's songs (which were sort of like what I imagine a head-on collision between Coldplay's tour bus and a bad Smiths cover band might sound like) left me completely flat. But I totally loved watching their bass player -- because perhaps without knowing it he was the perfect embodiment of every bass player in every alternative band ever.First off, he loaded his equipment (Ampeg cabinet, Rickenbacker 4003, one cable) on stage himself, plugged in -- made sure he was in tune, and then proceeded to stand in quiet annoyance while the other 4 members of his band proceeded to take 25 more minutes to set up all of their stuff up.
He was wiry thin with one of those olive-brown t-shirts that probably cost $50 but looks like it hadn't been washed ever, revealing just a hint of half-sleeve tattoos on both arms. Once the set started, he knew every song, hit every beat, and looked utterly disinterested in what he was doing the whole time. Occasionally dude would break into a "twist one of your legs in time with the beat without ever taking your foot off the floor" dance move, but once he noticed people were looking it would stop completely. Then when the gig ended he was unplugged, packed up, off the stage, and talking to women before anyone else had even started to break down their gear.
Dude was perfect.Unfortunately, his band was just lame. Not in the sense that they weren't capable musicians, or that they didn't work together as a group -- but that despite their synergy and polish, the songs were just ..dull.
Which I guess is the reasoning that lies at the heart of my sense of music snobbery. Especially when it comes to live music, there are so many things that can ruin it for me. With local bands, it's usually a matter of one or more members of the band being so annoyingly bad at their instruments or respective roles in the group that they actually ruin the potential of a band that might have otherwise been something worth hearing. There's nothing worse than seeing a decent rock band lay down a solid groove only to have some wannabe singer come out and Fred Durst the whole thing. But then there are cases like Julius Airwave where the band has been around a long time, the members clearly knew their stuff, and yet still didn't do anything for me.
But man, I was clearly in the minority on that thought -- because the hipsters in attendance couldn't get enough of that mopey bullshit. Each song ending brought raised cans of PBR in appreciation. It's people like this that keep Moby and the White Stripes in business, and it's getting old. I mean, I'm all for different people liking different styles of music, but if something outright sucks it should be universal, right?And while I'm at it -- can someone please explain to me why so many hipster dudes will go to any length and expense to look like Jerry Reed? Sure Smokey and the Bandit was a funny movie, but it was never intended as a fashion guide. Besides, what's the point of dressing like a trucker if all you drive is a Nissan Sentra?
I don't know -- maybe I don't have room to talk here; when I was in school I was still doing my best to look like I was one of the guitar players from Ratt -- but even then I still wouldn't lower myself to the level of Pabst.
Here's a hint: You don't need to look like an extra from the set of Hee Haw to see an advanced screening of the latest Wes Anderson film -- all it takes is 10 bucks and a couple hours free on a Tuesday.
Besides, we all know what happens when you take a Rivers Cuomo worldview and put it in a cowboy shirt, don't we?
[Listening to: Earl Greyhound, "Yeah, I Love You"]
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