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Random Notes (re: living) October 19, 2005

Posted by Matt Hurst in Uncategorized.
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I’m riding the crest of caffine+nicotine displacement of alcohol with the help of the late great Bill Hicks. I’m also in the midst of a progressive vegan detox, instersperced with animal consumption. Here are the things let floating around me in this cloud.

– Cats. There’ye pretty cool. I get a feline friend sometime this week. The cats seem to fancy me. Even the ordinarily shy ones. Even the birds seem to follow them. It’s the crackle noise of my facial hair being stroked, mixed with the catnip of my natural pheromones.

– Concert review #1: As I prepared to enter the arena/forum to be distracted from the wars at the edge of the empire, I was ready to recieve my daily bread from Caesar. The main act, Trent Reznor and the Blades, would come forth into the midst of the modern coliseum free of any projectiles courtesy of the imperial guard of St. Louis.
Autolux: This was a pleasant suprise. They have this incredibly hypnotising sound, like heroin shoegazers who only caught onto Sonic Youth around the “Nurse” record. Few words. The drummer (who is incidently female, therefore i don’t really need to mention it to other idiots in the crowd like it’s an incredible accomplishment) has total control over an otherwise atonal sound. The resonance of minimism is maginificent, and the feedback play was a full exploration of sonic boundries in their direction. Warm and fuzzy and isolated. Chilling.
Somewhere in between sets, I got a call from friends who managed to score a box. I was left with seat tickets instead of floor level, so I was more than eager to join them. The gave me someone else’s ticket up there (while they stuck behind) by meeting me in the vending area, and took me up to free soda, roomy seats, and a clear view. Even the mudded sound behind the glass walls (opening only in the front) was worth the trip, so that I could rock out and smoke cigarettes in the non-smoking venue.
Queens of the Stone Age: Truly pitiful but I didn’t come to see them. This was their last night on the arena tour, and you’d think they’d have their shit together by now (for all the hype as live performers). Josh Homme was content to shake his hips (a la his best Elvis impression) and grind the mic stand, while the rest of the band mostly phoned in their show. Even the 9 minute version of that single they always play on the radio by QotSA wasn’t enough to save a swan song performance. Sure, the bluesy licks were nice, but you can’t toy with a crowd that really isn’t into your show anyway.
Goddamn brother. $7 for a fucking reuben sandwich, and half of it has a mere slither of corned beef on it. Maybe pastrami next time. We waited impatiently for –
Nine Inch Nails: This is what a live rock band is supposed to do. They play behind a vail, unlift it to reveal a real fucking light show. They play the songs you want them to, and then some. Mix their latest album with their first record, throw in the classics, and make your audience realize the drawing power of emotional depth is indeed dancable. Throw in the middle a three song film sequence on a projection screen to make the show something that will only be seen once. It peeked during “right where it belongs” over the play of seeing the mutual destruction that animosity creates in us. Overtly socio-politics for a band previously thought just to be anti-social through rejection. Now they reject. Yes indeed, Trent is trying harder every tour to be Pink Floyd circa the wall. Pink Floyd as a sado-masochistic existential dance-metal outfit. It’s natural. I was emotionally and psychologicly drained. Well done boys. That light show is not to be forgotten. They know the push and pull of a good set, and their reputation as one of the best live acts around has been well earned.

-My friend Sarah just called off the coast of Tampa, Florida to tell me a storm is headed straight for them. Her family, surrounded on the island, is making no effort to seek shelter on the mainland. Yes they’re on vacation, but their prayers against an “act of God” go in vain. They’re calling this one Wilma, because scientists are obsessed with the Flintstones instead of global fucking warming. That’s three letters away from finishing the alphabet of storm names this season, so we hope the backwoods creeps have learned the alphabet by now. Pretty soon they’ll have to start with two letter names like ABnormal, ABerition, or ABsolutely fucked.

-Sunday night I saw The Decemberists at Pop’s. With Andrea, my boarder. She should have no trouble rpaying for the ticket, as the show was easily worth it for both of us.
In this “no smoking” show, in a city known for its disdain for anti-smokng shows, we found clarity. Withdrawl sweating and tremors, but dancable tremors. The opening act (Cass McCombs?) had a nice lo-fi crunchy, pacific coast accoustic minimalism vibe, and a rich voice. For some reason I thought of Rufus, but that’s probably just an aberition. Very sweet and mellow. I’ve been on that path for awhile now. If it didn’t have the overt hippy vibe, I probably would have liked it better. Fine singer-songwriter none the less.
The Decemberists were a real band. Don’t listen to those other reviews; Colin knows his power, yes, but he isn’t so megalomaniacal as you’ve been led to believe. The set was very much a crowd pleaser and suprisingly dancable. This is a real band of multi-instumentalists (see the lead guitarist do much more). Save the 3 song Colin only set, he kept his ego in his throat, and dealt maturely with the “freebird” request. Rocking steady. The band is composed of allstars of the Portland scene surely. Do not be fooled – this band delivers on their promises. Although the “Mariner’s Song” encore (easily the length of three songs) was well rehearsed (props included), it was the most frenzious thing your ever find at an accoustic outing. Now if only Colin knew where he was in the midwest, he would know Illinois is directly accross from the venue.

-Look at me! I’m a regular blogger! Crimety!

– Final thoughts: Drinking is bad for you. You will find adventures in the unlikeliest of places when sober. Take chances in trusting people, unless they are homeless liars who repeat the same “mom burned down in her house this week” story for months on end. Donate to your fellow man responsibly, and support your local PBS station. The kids need to learn their alphabets if they’re ever to learn how to use the computer. Improve yourself; upgrade with the self-confidence module. You’ll find some things to feel good about. Insert friend.

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Comments»

1. nilsinedeo - October 19, 2005

I hope the 4th next hirricane of doom is called Andrea Marie. 😀

2. nilsinedeo - October 19, 2005

hurricane* :B

3. lostininerspace - October 19, 2005

Sarah is in Florada!!!
that is no good
if she calls you again tell her I love her!

4. sweetdagger - October 20, 2005

who says a kid has to learn how to use a computer??
I was absolutely shocked that my cat nuzzled up to you seeing as you are A)male B)tall C)a stranger.
She is normally an incredibly skittish feline.

Correction: drinking is bad if you’re an alcholic.

5. sweetdagger - October 21, 2005

alcoholic*

6. skewgee - October 21, 2005

have you been drinking?

7. sweetdagger - October 22, 2005

I surely have not.
Peppermint schnapps never gets old, though.

That’ll be just the thing to do me in.
I use too many commas.

8. skewgee - October 22, 2005

have you tried her “leash”? can you get a hold of her?

9. lostininerspace - October 23, 2005

She called and we talked for a bit.
Hopefully God is with her overly faithful family. I will be further pissed with Jesus if anything happens to her.


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