the oh so quiet show

Erlend and Eirik

Why is King of Convenience so awesome to see live?

• They look happy.
• They sound beautiful.
• …And effortless.
• …And intimate.
• They tell random funny anecdotes.
• Erlend does cute little dances.
• THEY ARE SO GODDAMN GOOD WHAT ELSE DO YOU NEED TO KNOW?

It took four and a half years for King of Convenience to come back to New York City. The first time I saw them was one of the most memorable shows I had ever been to. And Thursday night…I’d say was the same. And not just because I’m known for having a penchant for weegies. (That is, Norwegians, not Glaswegians.)

Feist!

They mostly played songs from their new album, Declaration of Independence, but tossed a few older ones in at the end to appease the audience, along with a cover of “It’s My Party.” There were many memorable moments—I was a particular fan of when Erlend said they had eaten at Kampuchea and that we New Yorkers were lucky to live in a city with such good food—but Feist appearing in the balcony during the encore, amplification-less performance of “The Build Up” was the final “you probably won’t forget this” moment. Her voice is what makes me love the song.

There was also that time that Eirik gave us his best steely male model pose.

Smile!

Actually, they both granted the audience their best poses in return for us not taking photos during their performance. DSLRs are too loud; I don’t blame them. (I only took a few photos after that moment, during times that I felt were the least obtrusive. I swear.)

Toot.

And there’s Erlend pretending to play a saxophone. Because. Why not?

Play on

Impulsive and good decision: seeing The Octopus Project two Sundays ago at Mercury Lounge due to Jim‘s suggestion. …After taking a two-hour car ride from small town Virginia to Washington D.C., a four-and-a-half-hour Bolt Bus ride from D.C. to NYC, and shoveling some mediocre food from Woorijip down my throat. Even with luggage in tow and layer of sweat masking every pore on my body, I still had a good time. And for a rare occurrence, I didn’t have to be familiar with all the songs to enjoy the music.

After seeing Yvonne Lambert rock the theremin, I feel like I ought to get reacquainted with mine at the risk of annoying the shit out of my roommate with screeching high pitched bleeps. (I bought a theremin in high school during my “I LIKE RANDOM INSTRUMENTS” phase. Fiddling with it showed me that, holy hell, this thing is hard to play. But it sounds cool. And superbly annoying if you don’t know what you’re doing—sort of like with a violin, but perhaps a smidge less painful.)

“Wet Gold” is my favorite song form their new EP, Golden Beds. You can listen to all the songs at peekaboorecords.com

Raise em high.

He told us to raise our fists in the air. So we did.

Now go stand over there.

He told us to form a big circle and then run around in the circle. So we did.

Now do that.

He told us to dance in pairs. So we did. (Well, I skipped this one.)

Human tunnel.

He told us to make a human tunnel. So we did. From the venue floor, down the stairs, through the bar, and back up the stairs.

Woof.

When I was standing outside of the Bowery Ballroom last Saturday and taking in the fumes of stale beer and cigarette smoke, I thought, “Jesus christ, no wonder I stopped going to concerts,” but seeing Dan Deacon (+ an army of band members) was great fun (the interactivity is key) and certainly worth the subjection to various smells I wouldn’t normally find myself exposed to. It would’ve been more fun if I hadn’t been lugging around a huge bag with me, but that’s the price I pay for always wanting my dSLR and water bottle on hand. My friend Erin and I were part of maybe 5% of the crowd that wasn’t high on something. That’s how we roll.

And thus I have another dream that shall never be realized: to be as cool as Dan Deacon.

I’m too tired to write much about the Blip Fest show I went to last Saturday, but overall, it was fun except for the gazillion times my foot got stepped on. And the people who repeatedly smashed themselves into my body, even if they said they were sorry. But I probably should’ve expected that for being in the front row.

Bubblyfish

Bubblyfish is still my favorite. Not necessarily the songs she played during the show, but…her stuff in general. Sounds less conventional to me. The crowd loved her.

Sulumi

Sulumi was good too. Lots of. …Jumping. I jumped on the inside.

Nullsleep

And Nullsleep, or Jeremiah as I like to call him, was awesome and insane and intense and I think he’s possessed when he’s on stage. I fought my way out of the audience during his set (it was late and I wanted to go home); after I made it out, I turned around to see the shadow of a crowd surfer being carried across the room.

Way back when I cared more, I would go to concerts before the doors were to open in order to get the best view of the stage. That is, pressed up right against it. Besides getting an awesome view, I’d also have something to lean against for the next few hours of waiting and watching, which were crucial to my feet not turning to jelly.

This past Monday when I went to the Lykke Li show at Music Hall of Williamsburg, I would’ve have liked to have been up at the front, but I also wanted to not stand for hours and have enough time to feed myself the nightly meal most humans are accustomed to eating. So my friends and I left my apartment at 9:30 to get there at 10, something completely unheard of back in my high school years of obsessively getting to concerts too early, i.e. before the sun went down.

What else has changed since 2002? I hadn’t been to 66 North 6th Street since 2002, for one thing. My memory of the previous North Six was that it felt like being in an elementary school gym, the kind that doubles as a stage, and this gym happened to be behind fairly unmarked doors, doors that could’ve led to an abandoned warehouse or killing room. Seeing the updated space was like, whoa, sparkly. The show I saw was The Velvet Teen (which felt like it had an audience of about 10 people) and it was possibly my first foray into Williamsburg, which at the time was seemingly devoid of all human life. It was creepy.

Lykke Li

Oh yeah, so since I got there at 10, I ended up somewhere near the back looking through the heads of all the taller people around me, which was probably 99% of them. But it was fine. I enjoyed it. She played nearly her whole album plus some covers that I didn’t know.  Lykke Li is definitely some sort of awesome; she sings well, gives off this lively but not frighteningly energetic aura, and kinda…prances around the stage. Or as Olivia said, “She looks retarded when she dances, but then she looks cool because has so much self confidence.” She dances like she doesn’t give a crap about anything, which is the best way to do it, unless you’re failing your arms and hitting people/fragile items.She enjoyed herself, we enjoyed ourselves, and everyone was happies.

Another view

My 6+ foot tall friend KÃ¥re shot this photo to show me what it’s like when your view isn’t obstructed by a forest of shadowed heads. It’s like when you feel like there’s a squirrel up your nose and suddenly, the squirrels die and you can breathe easily.  Nice.

I would go again.  Yes.

And if you haven’t heard Lykke Li before, a remix I quite like:

[audio:http://music.diskobox.net/mp3s/lykkeli-littlebit-diegomix.mp3]

THE BIRD!

In just a little over half an hour, I had Metro North-ed my way out of the city into the cute, cozy streets of Tarrytown. First (and only) stop: ANDREW BIRD.  Andrew Bird in all his solo stripy socked glory, effortlessly building loop upon loop of plucky violin strings, or non-plucky, or guitar, or whistling, or xylophone, or hand clapping. And don’t forget about his singing.  Where does such a warm and comforting voice come from?  How could a mere mortal do all of the above?  Hooooow?

OH SWEET JESUS, I LOVE YOU, ANDREW BIRD. And even though nothing could’ve been better than his show at Union Hall, Tarrytown Music Hall made for a lovely venue. I got to sit down! Like whoa. I’m so accustomed to sitting down all day that standing for a few hours would probably kill my feet. My old age is catching up to me.

Of course, if I had to stand the show still would’ve been a million kinds of awesome.

He played a bunch of new songs that I can’t remember.  And some older ones.  But everything sounds new again when he goes at them in a live, solo setting.  He morphs melodies you thought you knew into something else.  THEY ARE REBORN! …Without messy amniotic fluid.

Sandro Perri

Unbeknownst to be beforehand, Sandro Perri was the opener. It was somewhat exciting for me since I’m a fan of his music as Polmo Polpo, but I was unfamiliar with his acoustic material of guitar + singing + bass drum. Not sure what I like better; it’s all rather good.

Zach just treated my office to a captivating story about buying scalped tickets to see George Michael at Madison Square Garden.  We all stared at him in disbelief.  It was amusing.

I’m not going to repeat any of the story; I just wanted to note the random things that go on during my day.  GO ZACH!!!

Currently listening to random mixtapes at muxtape. I like the layout: simple, giant text, solid colors. Not much in the ways of controls, but that means less need to use my brain. Which is a welcome thing when I’m doodling away on my computer after midnight, aka, “brain quittin’ time.”

I have, of course, claimed my URL, but haven’t uploaded anything yet. When I do, I’ll let you know.

Things are going on over there

Almost forgot to mention that I saw Caribou two weeks ago with John. My concert excitement has faded so quickly in just a few years. Or less. Not that the show wasn’t great—it was quite awesome, something I’d love to see again. Happy visuals, happy music, happy happies, energy up the wazoo, a strange sensation considering that I was so tired I just leaned against the wall the whole time and probably yawned a lot more than I should’ve, which is what every day is like these days…

This is God’s way of telling me that I should drink coffee.

Cut Copy, taken by Amy

Last Saturday (only a week ago, really?) I went to Studio B to see Cut Copy with Amy, Jess, and Alex. It was my first “real” concert in…a long time. Strange to think that in high school I had the stamina to go to a concert, say, more than once every two months, but now I kind of loathe the thought of staying out until my contacts adhere themselves to my eyeballs and potentially having to go to work the next day. (I’m going to see Caribou this Friday though. Excitement! Wee!)

The main reason I went to see Cut Copy, besides that I like their music, was because Amy asked me to. Alex was a last minute add-on when he said, “OHAI, I’m coming down from Vassar for the weekend just because!” He didn’t have a ticket, but all we had to do was wait outside in a line moving at the speed of a disabled sloth before he was allowed entrance. Our wait was enhanced by shivering fun!—neither of us had brought jackets so we could avoid checking them in. This was the first time I actually left everything at home (“home” being Tristan’s not-too-far-away apartment) aside from a few necessities I could cram into Alex’s pockets. After waiting forever to check my bag in the last time I went to Studio B, I didn’t want to relive the horror.

This also mean I couldn’t lug my dSLR with me, but sometimes it’s okay not to take photos. I guess. Also, Amy took plenty.

Cut Copy, taken by Amy

So…the concert. I’ve become increasingly horrible at being able to describe these things. Most of the songs they played appeared to be from their first album, Bright Like Neon Love, which worked for me because I hadn’t listened to their newest one, In Ghost Colours. I think I…danced. Just a tad. It’s a rare thing, to see me dancing because I’m too self-conscious and feel like an mal-coordinated idiot when I move in ways beyond walking/running/etc. The band was into it, and the screaming fans led me to believe that the crowd was too.

The only low points of the concert were 1) standing next to or behind super-tall people/hipsters when I am barely over 5 feet tall, but i guess it’s my fault for having crappy genes ill-adapted for going to concerts, 2) standing next to people who wouldn’t stop making out (when people are shouting at you to “get a room,” you know it’s not good), 3) when at least one girl attempted to crowd surf and failed, 4) when this one guy wouldn’t stop hitting on Amy even though she was obviously not interested, although not obvious enough for this guy because her personality does not include “acting like a bitch.” Dear people of the male persuasion: do not talk try to a girl WHILE THE CONCERT IS GOING ON, IT’S KIND OF AWKWARD.

Otherwise, good times were had.

Blip Festival

If you’re in NYC and have no plans for the weekend, check out the Blip Festival at Eyebeam. 8-BUT MUSIC UP THE WAZOOO! WITH A GINORMOUS PIXELATED SCREEN IN THE BACKGROUND!

You know you want it.

You can also buy beer, if that helps.

Bubblyfish

My favorite artist from yesterday is Bubblyfish (myspace). It doesn’t just sound like a bunch of 8-bit goop mashed together…it’s like, oo, songs. Yup. Oo. Her live performance was way dancier than the stuff on her album. Not that people were really dancing. Maybe if half of us weren’t wearing heavy coats and carrying huge-ass cameras…

Oem cheap Adobe Contribute CS3