3rd July 2010

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The Oblivians/Andre Ethier at The Knitting Factory

Just in case you missed it, The Oblivians, supported by Andre Ethier, put on a free concert Thursday night at the Knitting Factory. Although I’m not a big fan of corporate involvement in music, I guess I should show some appreciation to Scion for sponsoring the event, not only because I didn’t have to pay money to go, but also because they were giving out free Black Lips/Pierced Arrows splits, and I snagged two of them. So, that was cool of them. But enough shilling. Let’s talk about rock.

Andre Ethier, photo courtesy of my crappy phone camera.

Opening up the night was Andre Ethier, with whom I was pleasantly surprised.  To me, his set sounded like the psychedelic sounds of Bob Dylan. Ethier had the kind of stream of consciousness vocals that few people can really pull off, and when you hear someone do it right, it’s really something special. Whoever was on lead guitar duty that night was really driving it home. I’m hoping that’s not the last I’ll hear from Andre Ethier.

The Oblivians - another picture taken with my phone camera. Anyone want to be my photographer?

The fucking Oblivians. If you’re not with it, the Oblivians fucking rock. That’s all you should need to know in order to be caught up with what’s going on. They hit the stage, and annihilated for an hour and fifteen minutes before taking a couple of minutes off before the encore.  I lost count of how many songs they played (can you blame me? they’re all a minute and a half long) but I did manage to keep track of how many fights broke out: three and a half. That half fight was when a girl poured her beer out on a guy’s head… it would have been a fight, but they were both too scared to hit someone of the opposite gender. Of course, things never got past a bro-style “hold me back!” exchange, as the crowd seemed to be able to completely separate aggressive-types, so things only seemed energetic, not dangerous. Exactly what you want at a punk rock show.

Each member of the group got to have several turns leading things, and everyone seemed to know exactly what’s up. After their reunion tour last year, they seem to be in fantastic shape; the band rocked exactly as hard as I’d always hoped they would. When Greg Oblivian sat behind the drum kit so Jack O could have a turn on the mic, things got both sloppier and cleaner, somehow at the same time.  Greg’s drunken southpaw style on the drums was loads of fun to watch, and Jack’s songs had their own unique punch to them that I really appreciated; “Strong Come On” might be the best minute-and-thirty seconds of music of all time. For the encore, the guys brought up a friend to play some organ, and, of course, they continued to kick everyone’s asses.

If you ever get the chance, you need to see the Oblivians. They did mention they’d all just moved up to Queens, by the way… I’m hoping we’ll be seeing them around more in the future.

Tagged: strong come onstuck in thee garageBeing at a punk rock show always reminds me I need to have more sideburnsoblivianseconofuck youholee shitkick out the jams motherfuckermissgofuckyourself

6th February 2010

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Blah blah blah

So much of the time when people talk about “songwriting,” they actually mean “lyric-writing.”  It seems like the song itself is ignored almost completely, given the most boring, simple treatment possible.  It’s offensive to music, it’s lazy, and I think it’s a cowardly evasion of something nobody really understands, a question which has so much importance: what is it about a specific piece of music that has an effect on you that you simply can’t stop? It’s something intrinsic in the sound, and, oftentimes the words have nothing to do with it.

Lyrics are of secondary interest to music.  In a perfect composition, the words will be intelligently or cleverly written, and perhaps would work well on their own, but it is the music itself which makes it something without which you could not live.  When lyrics are what you focus on first, before sound, you are a literary critic, not a music appreciator.  You’re missing the point.

Tagged: fuck you