The Post-Rockist

The Baltimore Round Robin has caused some heated and even somewhat rabid discussion on the interwebs today about the difference between the Detroit scene and the Baltimore scene. I have nothing else to say about that.

To be honest, reading these territorial pissings on the blogs started to make me forget how much fun I had over the past two nights. So screw writing a few thoughts on Feet Night. I’m going to try to write a few feelings on the night. That’s where the event really got me, anyway. It was a party for the soul, not the head.

1. I felt giddy and excited to have the opportunity to go nuts and sweat it out on the dance floor with a bunch of strangers, which I haven’t really done at a show in awhile. Sometimes I was up front and had enough room to do more than just jump around–you know, maybe move my hips and slide my feet a bit, do a little hand motion thingy, or a half arm-to-shoulder wave motion maneuver. Other times I was in the middle of a crowd thrashing and jumping about pushing and shoving, and could feel the sweat soaking through people’s shirts when tossed up against them by others in the crowd. I felt a punch to the earplug that sidelined me for about 10 minutes. I felt strangers’ sweat falling on me, and it felt not bad.

2. The visuals: Some of the projected videos playing over the musicians had so many hilarious images and ideas that they caused me to nearly belly laugh a few times. That video with the falcon zooming up and down, then with an Evil Lynn looking lady walking the middle, turning into a skeleton after a few minutes, with little pterodactyls flying around on the left and right of the lady, or something like that. Seriously, I was mesmerized. I was thinking so little and enjoying so much that I can’t remember the whole thing. I just remember the parts described above and being wowwed.

3. When Dan Deacon stopped the music and turned on the lights and asked everybody to get to one side of the room, then got a couple of people to join hands up in the air to create that human tunnel, and we started joining in and created a tunnel that took us out of the building, onto the street, back into the museum and back onto the dance floor, I felt kind of uncomfortable at first holding someone else’s hands and waiting it out until everybody got through and it was my turn to run through again. But then I just started to dance with the person as people were running under our arms, and that was fun, but then my arms got really tired, so I tried to dance through the tunnel when it was my turn again instead of running like some of the others were because I thought that it would rest my arms a bit and knew I’d be one of the last ones to continue the tunnel to the end. I was. Third to last. But it felt good to be the anchor, I guess, and it was definitely one of the coolest things that’s ever happened at a concert. I’m glad I didn’t sit that one out.

4. When Benjamin Franklin Beast of Showbeast gave an opening speech before showing his film, he talked about how we have to be like Kevin McCallister fleeing from the Wet Bandits of our lives, or something like that, and at that moment I forgot about any of my ambitions or my stress at work or my inability to effectively communicate with the people I love, or my self-consciousness when I write, and how I’m always afraid of offending somebody and not very courageous, and how I don’t generally do a very good job of dealing with the world or the people around me, and thought that maybe I should revisit Home Alone and try to learn some new life lessons.*

5. When “Funny Clown” came out in his red leotard and stood right next to me sitting on the floor (really, really close next to me), I felt a little bit uncomfortable, but ultimately, ok.

*^{And yes, I know, this was a thought, not a feeling.}

Ever been out somewhere, at some place or something, watching stuff going on, and people doing stuff, and people playing instruments and stuff, and doing weird stuff and fun stuff and unusual stuff, and realize to yourself, “Wow, I’ll probably never see something like this ever again.”?

Well, I had this feeling about 20 minutes into the first night of the Baltimore Round Robin at the Mocad last night. And if you weren’t there, I’m guessing that you didn’t have this feeling at all last night, huh?. (Continued)

Baltimorians are weirder than Detroiters.

Period.

I didn’t used to think so–I thought we could compete–until I started checking out some of Baltimore artists performing at the Baltimore Round Robin on Wednesday and Thursday, October 8-9, at the Mocad.

Here’s the lowdown:

Over 25 Baltimore bands are hitting the road for an 8 city tour, with each city getting two nights of music. The bands will set up in a circle in a large room, with the audience standing in the middle, and the bands will play one song at a time, going round and round until they feel like stopping, I suppose. The first night is called “Eyes Night,” consisting of bands that are apparently pretty visually stimulating and a bit moodier in tone, featuring the excellent Beach House. The second night is “Feet Night,” when the djs and dance rock bands will be keeping everybody sweaty and leaving us tired and completely satisfied with our dancetasticness. This night features Dan Deacon (see our reviews here and here) and The Death Set.

Check this out, from a band called Creepers, playing on “Eyes Night,” Wednesday:

It

will

be

awesome.

Anyone know when some of our weirdness will be rescheduled? Scrummage, where are you? Let’s hang out again.

^{btw, I’ve watched this video 100 times.}

My fellow Detroiters, if we work hard, and we think big, and we smoke pot, we too can be just as wonderfully weird and creative and free as our fellow, visiting Baltimorians.

I don’t think I’m going to review the new Mason Proper album, Olly Oxen Free, for a couple of reasons:

1. It’s been done by many others.
2. I like it too much. I don’t want to have to think about the album. I just want to listen to it on repeat.

I admit this to you for a reason. My favorite song on Olly Oxen Free is the album’s last song, “Safe for the Time Being.” When I was thinking about writing about the album, I was going to make much ado about singer Jon Visger’s amazing singing of the repeated line “oh my god.” His singing on the entire album is masterful, and the band’s ability to write music so intricate around such rich ideas and narratives as Visger’s makes this one of the best albums of the year.

But such petty phrases and distinctions as “best album of the year” become paltry and meaningless when the music is able to invade your consciousness and emotions, taking on a life of its own in your body and soul. I’m not trying to sound all kooky or metaphysical here. When I listen to “Safe for the Time Being,” I stop whatever I’m doing and listen closely, shuddering here and there. I can’t help it. Very few songs have a similar effect on me.
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But I’ve been presenting everything all backwards here. I didn’t begin writing this to talk about Mason Proper. I wasn’t even listening to “Safe for the Time Being” when the inspiration for the post hit me. I was going through my back catalog. (Continued)

This week brings us two new releases by Detroitish-based bands, as the album release season continues apace.

The first is Friendly Foes‘ Born Radical, of which I had a few words to say until I read Jeff Milo’s Deep Cutz feature on the band, which will tell you everything you need to know about the Foes’ power-pop music electric revival.

I do have one extra word for the album, though, that Deep Cutz refrained from divulging: jamburgers.

Friendly Foes - “Couch Surfing“
from Born Radical

The Friendly Foes’ record release rawk romp takes place at The Berkeley Front on Friday, Sept 26. (Continued)

Around 9:25 in the pm, Friday night, I was feeling a bit lethargic and thought about making my way to The Belmont a little late. “Eh,” thought I to myself, warily, “bands probably won’t even start until 11. I’m just going to hang out here and do nothing for awhile” To pass some time, I thought I’d listen to the Jason Croff’s solo stuff on his MySpace page, which I had been putting off for no other reason than laziness. Croff tickles ivory for The Dead Bodies (a Post-Rockist fave) and Four-Hour Friends, and would be playing his original songs at The Belmont that night under the moniker Croff Family Band.

And after just one minute of listening, I was off my ass and in action. (Continued)

Todd emailed me on Friday proposing that we “liveblog” the MTV Video Music Awards. He was joking, but I couldn’t tell, and shot back a long email about why we shouldn’t. He responded to let me know that he was joking.

But just now, my girlfriend was just flipping though stations and decided to take it upon herself to tune into the Christina Aguilera performance.

It was ridiculous. Terrible song. Terrible performance concept (was she supposed to be Batwoman or something?) Worst lip-syncing I’ve ever seen. I’m sure it’ll be on YouTube or something by tomorrow and I’ll post the video for your viewing pleasure, but I personally won’t waste another three minutes to watch it again, that’s for sure.

And to prove my point, Todd, the underwhelmingness of this post is proof enough why we should never, ever liveblog anything, ever.

UPDATE:

Here’s the video: