overheard, part 3. (northampton, mass)
[Balcony, Academy of Music, before Sonic Youth concert]
"Did you see the guy with the pot-bellied pig next to Alan?"
"No, I was just in there buying motor oil."
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February 19, 2007
February 13, 2007
overheard, part 2. (san francisco)
[Guy on Valencia Street shouting into cell phone]
"No, you tell YOUR sister to get it together. I'm not okay either."
[Tartine Bakery]
"And they threw their sofa right out the window onto Fell Street. No...it was a couple of years ago."
[Twin Peaks]
"Is that that blinking red light?"
[J Church streetcar]
"He's just claiming that he has an alcohol problem because nowdays it's like, 'Awwwwwww.'"
February 02, 2007
this week in tinnitus
I hadn't been to a show like that in ages, you know? THRRRRRNNNG. THRRRRRNNNNNNG. RNNN RNNN RNN RNNNN RNNNN. By which I mean, it's been a heck of a long time since I'd seen a Table of the Elements merch table.
I'm not pretending I wasn't two years old when Rhys Chatham wrote Guitar Trio 1977, but hey, that still makes me more actually born than most of last night's performing ensemble were at that time — Toronto's "local assortment" of talented musicians (drummer dude! you rule!) spanned probably a few decades of age range. (And if it isn't clear, "guitar trio" in 2007 means somewhere between 1-400 guitars: here we fell a little closer to the low end, but hey! We got a string section!)
Even though it was dissapointing citywide that not enough people knew about/made it out for the show, technically that might've been for the best. For whatever reason, the Tranzac decided to open the doors 70 minutes after the ticketed time, leaving many of the slightly less nerdy among us waiting out in Toronto chill. Actually they told us the reason, someone was late to soundcheck, and I also saw the other reason of a dozen musicians (politely) shoving past me with takeout restaurant meals. Yeah anyway so after an hour or so Owen Pallet comes out and says, "How come you guys aren't waiting in the tiki room? It has couches!" and just as we've all pigpiled into said lounge, the doors open and we all go watch some guy's like fly-eye power point electronic movie.
But then suddenly half the audience cleared out and we realized they were all on stage as part of the performance. Then, y'know. I can't and won't describe RNNNN RNNNN groove groove RNNN RNNNN but you missed it and it was lovely. The guitarists held this steady and unpliable presence and then the most wonderful thing happened when the strings came in: the string section undulated. They felt it and moved totally differently than the guitarists. To the right and the left they tossed the force back and forth between them, guitars to violinists, drummer to cellist, old dudes to young dudes to people who had known each other decades to those who'd met, I'm thinking, that night. We got two sets of RNNN RNNN RNNN and danced and enjoyed the accidents of others' flashbulbs, rocking on heels and knees and trying to fully live in as much of that feeling as those strings and the vibration of the room and the shaking and regret of my toilet-paper-earplug-attenuated hearing.
Then the Tranzac had curfew and Rhys just put his guitar down and marched right to the bar and ordered a beer as if that hadn't all just happened and as if avant music suddenly just took place in like, community centres with your friends every day of the week. Excellent.