In case "basic human decency" isn't enough to keep you off your cellphone in public places -- like, for instance, a rare intimate performance by Tool in a tiny club -- perhaps the following recording will be an additional reason. Particularly 11 seconds in.
"Shauna's friend" was being really inconsiderate of those around her all evening, but it was during Tool's performance of the rare "slow version" of the song "Pushit" that she gained notoriety, forever being inscribed in music history. I recorded this concert at the peak of my bootlegging "fame", and copies of it can probably still be found on every peer-to-peer music trading network there is. Thousands of people have had the chance to learn just how inconsiderate "Shauna's friend" is.
So, I hope this is a valuable lesson to those of you who insist upon being a "cellphone asshole"; you never know when those you are being inconsiderate of are making a permanent record of it, spreading your assholitry all over the internet.
After having a couple days "sink-in" time, I feel I now am fully able to describe the experience of seeing Tori Amos in concert. I can only describe the evening as "a religious experience." For those unfamiliar with religious experiences, I'll try to explain as best I can.
Imagine that your butt is incredibly sore from what seems like an eternity of sitting on uncomfortable rows of seating. Your knees are sore because you've had your elbows resting on them so that you can better cradle your head in your hands while you gaze intently at the tops of your shoes. (The shoes are more interesting than what is going on at the front of the room.) The occasional glance upwards reveals people inexplicably enraptured by the act of worshiping the deity they are there to behold. The person currently holding the attention of everyone in the room keeps saying things that don't quite make sense and sings songs that verge on illiteracy while the room fills with organ music.
The communion passed around at this particular religious gathering doesn't consist of wafers and wine (or even the more liberal bread chunks and grape juice); communion here is lemonade and churros. The cost of this communion is $14, but that really isn't so bad -- without Salvation, you face burning in the fires of a Tori Amos concert for all eternity, which would be quite a cost indeed.
For anyone who likes to know about the good bands before they get played on the radio, check out the Los Angeles based three-piece called The Like. Three hot young chicks, a sound I can only describe as "a pinch of Mazzy Star, a dash of The Sundays, some hand-whipped Poe and then a little Veruca Salt added to taste." They said their debut cd comes out tuesday, maybe I'll post an mp3 or two then.
The second opening band is The Ditty Bops, and they have a really nice "old-timey" sound filled with fiddle, standup bass, slide guitar and lots of 2 part harmony. Think a slightly more contemporary Oh Brother Where Art Thou soundtrack sound. They're about halfway through their set at the moment, and I'm now going to give them my full attention
With all the badness down in Louisiana, and all the media showing the negativity, it is nice to see someone actually do something positive about it. Last night towards the end of Garbages set, Shirley Manson dedicated the song Bleed Like Me to all the people suffering hardships due to the hurricane.
Surely this has made a lot of people feel much better. Thanks Shirley!
I'm currently at the Arlene Schnitzer Concert Hall, waiting for Garbage's opening band to finish, but wanted to post part of a conversation I just overheard.
A guy was telling his friends about how he was at Hot Topic today when a classic Johnny Cash tune came on the PA. He told about the conversation he had with the young goth man in line in front of him, regarding how cool it was that Johnny Cash covered a Soundgarden song.
He told his friends about how he got to point out to the mistaken young goth that Soundgarden actually was covering Johnny Cash when they did the song Rusty Cage. He then proceesed to say "you shouldn't talk if you don't know what you're talking about," and there was much chuckling from his friends.
I have to say, it took every fiber of my being not to butt into this overheard conversation to point out the irony in someone who himself doesn't know what he's talking about saying that you shouldn't talk without knowing what you're talking about.
Johnny Cash did not write Rusty Cage, Soundgarden did, and I actually know what I'm talking about.