Now Playing: The Buzzcocks--"Everybody's Happy Nowadays"
Saturday, 26 November 2005, approx. 9:30 p.m.
"Listen, I don't have much time. The parking structure's programmed to fold inward, like a fan, as soon as the foreign dignitaries arrive for the unveiling. Nobody'll escape. Once they're out of the way, the country'll have no choice to declare war, and the Covenant's plan to plunge the world into a biochemical holocaust will come true. Honestly, Therese, once that's over with and they come out of the compound, the whole fucking planet'll look like the second half of A Boy and His Dog. I love you, but I can't let them get away with this. I've been chased around long enough, and I'm gonna get even. I know you're pissed at me, but... can I kiss you goodbye?" At her nod, I took her in my arms and RINGRINGRINGRING!!! My boss called my cellphone to iron out the details for baking on Sunday and I realized I had dozed off. If she hadn't called, I would have missed the Dabenport show at the Blind Pig. My dream, sadly, was nowhere near that detailed (I wish I remembered saying things like that in dreams, let alone actually saying them), but it definitely involved a folding parking structure, a race against time, interminable car chases through bucolic country lanes, and a couple of rather delectable former flames in seductive attire. It was like a cross between Arbor Update and "The Avengers."
I managed to stumble over with little injury. A raft of familiar faces were there, and it was exciting to see Dabenport play once more. I've previously described their sound as sort of "ambient country," but it's a little misleading. There's definitely a wall-of-sound effect going on, but they're harder rocking than my description implies. The crowd was a little small compared to some of the previous shows I'd seen recently at the Pig, but that was actually preferable in many ways--there was plenty of room to shake one's... what-have-you, and although I'd heard Matt play solo guitar and drums plenty (and not enough) over the past few months, I had actually forgotten how good these guys were.* Misty's a great vocalist, and manages to make herself heard over the drums and guitars, something of an accomplishment for this crowd. After the show, I met lead guitarist Aaron and ended up in a bear hug with Matt and Misty, which was a pleasantly surreal finish to the evening. Rogue Wave was supposed to headline, but I decided to leave before they played, as I was incredibly sleepy (as you can probably imagine), and I had a strange vibe that they wouldn't be very good. Running into Sara at the Fleetwood Sunday morning, I learned that my suspicions were correct. Maybe I should have stayed--this blog could do with a few negative music reviews. The in-betweener was Margot and the Nuclear So-and-Sos, an eclectic gang from Indianapolis and a tremendously pleasant surprise, rocking me hard with a variety of different approaches--guitar, keyboard, drums, trumpet--very well done (I think the trumpet might afford a similar baseline of cool to the accordion, but I need to collect more data). I was a little shaken as well to notice that the lead singer looked like an alarming cross between Jimmy Fallon and former Don Carlos cook Nick Cianciarulo. All good fun, or I guess it must have been, as I had a hangover the next morning. I didn't drink that much--honest.
Thanksgiving weekend was fairly pleasant, all told. I talked to my brother and my parents, and it was good to do so. More chicken and caesar salad (what can I say? I love the stuff). I watched all of "Elizabeth R" (1971) for my birthday, which was much like watching a nine-hour-long movie. I'm always a sucker for the divine Glenda, and it's hard to think of anyone else who could have played the title role with such verve. Watching the recent "Virgin Queen" on "Masterpiece Theatre," I came to the conclusion that it, the most recent cinematic treatment of Elizabethan England, drew/copied equally from the TV series and the Shekhar Kapur/Cate Blanchett Elizabeth (1997)--the plot lines seem pasted together from both the TV show and the movie, and it was amusing to compare and contrast. Great fun, especially the usually irritating Michael Williams as the Duc d'Alencon. It was also a jar to see John Shrapnel (Sussex) and Michael Culver (Drake second-in-command John Tregannon) with hair. I'm also pretty sure that John Woodvine is maybe twice the size of the actual Francis Drake. But these are obvious quibbles.
Sunday I baked an assload of cookies for seven hours at work. While doing so, I got to hear the local "Homegrown" music show on 107.1 FM, a station usually devoted to Dave Matthews and the like. Finally exposed to Porchsleeper, I thought it rather good, even if the song was a little downbeat and mournful--not what I need to hear while blowing the end of Thanksgiving weekend on making cookies for work (although no one else was there, which was nice). They played Sari Brown's "Travel With You," which was a treat to hear, and I've learned not to be interested in Brad's Dead Fish and to be interested in CityGoat.
"We can't give our customers spoons with dried cheese on them."
"You think? I thought we might push the envelope, give it a whirl."
My boss gave us the first sentence today--I nearly delivered the second two in reply. I should be used to treatment like that--the first minute, a combination of a Stakhanovite worker and prodigy, the next, a drooling, lobotomized four-year-old--but I'm not.
*Matt's response to this idiotic statement? "Next time, don't." Or something like that.
Posted by Charles J. Microphone
at 3:49 PM EST
Updated: 28 November 2005 4:08 PM EST
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Updated: 28 November 2005 4:08 PM EST
Post Comment | View Comments (2) | Permalink | Share This Post