As it’s currently too hot to do anything but hideout inside and pray your air conditioner keeps working (it’s over 80 degrees at 7am and has been over 90 every day but one the last four weeks…), I thought I’d pop in with a few recommendations to keep you busy. The coronavirus continues to spread more rapidly than the heat lately (we’ve set single-day records several times the past week, including topping 70,000 confirmed cases on back-to-back days…), which means our four month hibernation is likely going to continue a good spell longer.
This also means concerts are sadly unlikely to appear in our lives anytime soon, which to someone who’s obsessed with music is an increasingly difficult (albeit absolutely necessary) pill to swallow, particularly as good new music continues to be released. Don’t get me wrong, it’s always great to bliss out and listen to things on the headphones, focusing on and savoring every little detail, but the ultimate test/enjoyment for me is to then see most of them performed live. Sometimes it takes mediocre albums into full on adored status (Gogol is a textbook example, as their albums simply can’t capture the unfettered delirium and energy of their live shows). Other times it works in reverse, taking adored albums down a peg after seeing them performed live. (Andrew Bird is the example here, as his performances have always disappointed me, but he remains one of my favorite artists and his albums routinely show up here on year end lists — including topping last year’s.)
Most of the time, though, it enhances the enjoyment and takes things to another level. So as this pandemic has progressed and our music venues have remained shuttered, we’ve been left with an intermittent flurry of livestreams from artists to tide us over, which is a little like having to survive on a sip or two of water (or worse, your own piss) every couple hours when stranded in the desert — it may be enough to keep you going, but it nowhere near slakes your thirst (or is your preference overall). These livestreams have usually taken the form of either stripped down acoustic affairs or archival footage of previous performances, and they’ve been mostly enjoyable affairs. (I’ve posted several of both here the past four months.)
The former gives you a chance to enjoy the songs in a new light, while the latter lets you walk down memory lane — at best to a show you might’ve been at or at worst to those halcyon days when we could be around strangers without worrying about whether they would kill you without touching you. (Back then the worst we had to worry about was killing people FOR touching you — “if you bump into me and spill your chardonnay on my shoes ONE MORE time, Becky…”) Like Saul sipping his piss, though, you just wish you could go back to normal and see the real deal.
Maybe it’s worse now because it’s festival season and the urge to be outside seeing dozens of good bands in the sun is as high as the temps (two in particular I’d been excited to see were Car Seat and MMJ, both of whose new albums are twisting the knife right now). Or maybe it’s because it’s been over four months and you know it isn’t ending anytime soon (so seeing places like the UK resuming indoor shows starting next week is doubly cruel.) Regardless, it’s slowly eating away at me, so I was particularly intrigued when I saw a band announce a slightly different approach to the above — a “normal” performance: ie the whole band, plugged in and ready to rock, on stage from a venue, with lights and multiple cameras capturing the action. You pay the normal ticket price and you get a full on show (unlike the abbreviated ones typical for the acoustic livestreams). The only thing missing would be the people.
That the band doing this was the beloved GBV made it all the more compelling, so I shelled out my 25 bucks to see how the experiment went (also because it’d likely be the only time I’d get to see them perform their upcoming album live, as they’ll likely have released 11 others by the time we’re done with this lockdown.) The band billed it as a one night, virtual “world tour,” encouraging everyone to grab a beer (or two) and tune in, and I gotta say — it was kind of awesome. The band played for nearly two and a half hours, so you definitely got your money’s worth, and they played almost exactly as if it was a regular show — thrashing about, striking various poses, whipping the mike around and taking drinks from their beers between songs like they usually do. Plus you got to watch it as many times as you liked for a limited time and got a free download of the show for future listens.
Did I miss being there and miss the energy of being surrounded by 100s/1000s of others reacting to and/or singing along to the songs? For sure. And I missed the banter of Doctor Bob, as he joked with (or heckled) the crowd and went on random tangents between songs. But the sound was amazing — it was just like being at a show, everybody well balanced and easy to hear (no cruddy DIY setups like on the acoustic streams) — and being able to see everything on stage without struggling to see around human sequoias or dealing with annoying elbowers/spillers/talkers like at normal shows was pretty great. I could see short people (such as wifey) who often don’t get to see much of what’s going on really enjoying this, so I’m curious if it starts to catch on.
The band got around 80% of the proceeds (best I can tell), with the other 20% going to local indie venues like the Metro back home or 9:30 here who helped promote the show in advance. (Noonchorus, who hosted the show, added a $5 surcharge to the ticket price to cover their fees.) I’m not sure what the typical ratio is per show, but I could see this being better for the bands and a “better than nothing” option for the venues (at least while we’re stuck in quarantine). Sure there’s less shows to make money on, but they get a better cut and get to stay home with their families, so maybe it’s a net positive for them.
From the fan side, being able to see/hear everything and enjoy it from the comfort of your home, drinking for free while still supporting the bands and venues, it’s definitely an option I’d do again. The main question I have is how hard/enjoyable is it for the band — there were a couple times in the set when the one or two folks in the room (ostensibly friends/family) could be heard hollering after a song, but for the most part it was silent, so I wonder how much fun that sucks out of the experience for the artists and if that prevents more from doing it. An interesting experiment, to be sure, and a definite upgrade from the lower-fi acoustic sets. Hopefully we’ll see some more of these from artists in the coming months, as we continue to languish in lockdown. Bravo to Doctor Bob and the boys for trying something like this out and showing another possible way.
Going back to the old models (ie re-released old performances), one worth noting that I found this week was this 2018 show from the late John Prine. It’s filmed at the House of Strombo (aka the living room of Canadian radio DJ George Stroumboulopoulos) right after the release of Prine’s excellent Tree of Forgiveness album, and is a really great set. Prine is his lovely, affable self, joking with the crowd between songs before setting off on another great tune. This being later years Prine, his endearingly gravelly voice is in full flourish, giving additional texture and warmth to the songs. There’s even a crowd-led kazoo section if you still had any reservations — definitely worth a watch/listen:
One last discovery as I continued rummaging around the Prine rabbithole was Tre Burt, who I caught do a couple songs at the virtual Winnipeg Folk Festival last week. He did a cover of Prine’s “Sour Grapes” (one of my favorites), as well as one of his own, and I was really taken by his voice. Then I listened to his recent debut (Caught It From the Rye) and was further impressed. Turns out Burt is one of only two artists to sign to Prine’s Oh Boy records the past 15 years (the other, Kelsey Waldon, is next on my research list), which speaks to his quality. (If you can win over the old man, who am I to oppose?) Both his debut and his Takes from the Dungeon EP are really good, nice blends of Prine-like storytelling and a warm, raspy voice. A great place to start is with the opening track from the recent album, “What Good” — check it out here (with a video from New Orleans in the early pandemic days):
That’s it for now, my friends — stay safe, cool, and quarantined… –BS