Session Beers
My beer club is having a session beer tasting next month. What a session beer is, I’m not completely sure. I knew that it was something lower in alcohol so as to keep sessioners from over-doing it. I also knew that session beers has a different meaning to those in the UK than here. Steve over at Wait Until Next Year shudders whenever I mention drinking beers 6% or higher, yet he loves to partake in the beer session whenever possible. To me, a session consists of a beer or two at 6-7%, followed by a 9+% beer to finish off the evening[1].
Over at Make Mine Potato, the author ponders the end of the session beer as limited to 4 or 5% ABV. He proposes some nice IPA’s or extreme sours as the ideal session beers, none of them fitting neatly beneath the British threshold of 4% ABV. Instead, he views the session as a daily occurrence when he can enjoy a beer no matter the ABV. Of course, as he argues elsewhere, who’s the deity that decided a session beer had to be 4-5%[2]?
My good friend at Double Word Score had his own take. To make a long story short, he defined a session beer like so:
A session beer is a beer an individual consumer enjoys (subject to personal tastes in, among other things, hop to malt ratio and logo design) and is able to enjoy and drink more than two 12 oz. cans or pints of without doing something stupid (including but not limited to: making a wager of more than 10% of your paycheck on a poker game, calling old rivals and/or former lovers, urinating on your neighbor’s porch, etc.[3])
I don’t know that there’s a better definition I’ve read than the one above.
So, where does this all leave us? I don’t really know. Is ABV a good barometer over taste or quality[4]? Is an arbitrary number what I want to use to choose a beer for a session? What about sessionable beers that are crap? Are they worth an evening of my time?
To take the argument in another direction, I responded to Steve’s own post on the session beer in this manner:
That’s a rather reasonable take on the subject. However, I’m not sure why a higher gravity beer cannot be sessionable. Say we hit the bar and over the course of a few hours, you down four or so beers near 4% ABV and I sip on two beers in the 8-9% range. We’re looking at about the same amount of alcohol even though it’s obviously not equal amounts of liquid. I would argue that the advantage in the session goes to me.
1. Since you are drinking more beers, you are hitting the can at least twice as often during the session than I[5]. In fact, I may never once interrupt conversation with a trip to the restroom.
2. When one consumes more, they spend more. Typically, a session beer might run in the ballpark of $3.50 for a pint (usually tonic, not imperial). My barley wine is probably $4.50-$5.00 a glass. You’ve just spent $14 and I have given the bartender $10 at the most.
3. “Traditional British beer is best when it is quaffed. It is not there to be sipped and savoured [sic][6].” I couldn’t have said it better myself. While I would like to discuss the complexities of the beer on hand, you would gulp the remainder of your second, immediately raising a finger for another. I look at beer drinking as more of a Zen-like experience, meant to be savored in the moment.
4. What do binge drinkers really drink? A hefty Russian Imperial Stout with notes of coffee, chocolate, and cherries as it sits at 10% ABV and 70 IBU’s or the bros downing a case of rather sessionable Bud Lite and it’s sub-4% 10 IBU status? I’d argue that the more sophisticated, more civilized drink is the high gravity beer.
That comment pretty much sums up my entire opinion of drinking beer. The question of what’s sessionable is merely a distraction[7]. What we’re talking about here is drinking beer. Which would you rather do? Would you rather drink all that your belly can hold over the course of an evening or would you rather sip and enjoy a finely crafted beer over the course of a session? I mean, we all know the results of the former, don’t we Great Britain?
I choose the high gravity session beer for the same reasons I choose LP’s over MP3’s. There is care put into the recording and sequencing of an entire album. I don’t want just the hits, give me the filler; give me the bridge between hit #1 and hit #2. I want the big picture to give the great songs context. I want to enjoy all aspects of the craft, not simply consume it.
Of course, the biggest difference in opinions with which we are working is between the opinion held by Brits and the one promoted by Yanks. As with most of our language, the session is based on a British idea. The trouble is that a session, like many British philosophies[8], doesn’t work in an American context. There was never a prohibition period in the UK like there was here[9]. That time greatly affected the way Americans viewed beer. While British brewers continued to perfect their craft and beer drinkers across the United Kingdom met in pubs for a session of pints, Americans were going ape-shit for any beer or other alcoholic beverage they could obtain.Prohibition was lifted and the few brewers who survived produced a bland shadow of beer, opting for abstracts such as rice and corn, brewing flavorless, characterless “beer”.
American beer became something to guzzle. It was a means to an end. That end was to get wasted. Sure, there were sessions, but Americans do everything to the extreme. Binge drinking became a common occurrence as beer was cheaper by the case. It’s ingrained in our modern culture that to drink beer is to consume as much as possible. That has somehow become the norm in the American beer session.
Enter the craft beer movement…
Another group of brewers and beer enthusiasts discovered that beer didn’t have to be flavorless. They discovered the sessions in British pubs. They found there were monks in Belgium crafting the most beautiful beers. In other parts of Europe, brewers used the best ingredients in order to produce the tastiest beers. These were people who were choosing beer for its flavor and not just its “medicinal” purposes.
So, the session here in the States is either a binge-fest with your bros or an opportunity to sip on something more refined with other beer enthusiasts. This model doesn’t fit the British session. In the UK there is a culture of the session as community builder. The beer is merely the lubricant that does little damage in the process. I won’t bash British cuisine too harshly here, but let’s just say the flavors enjoyed across the pond are not the most spectacular, especially when it comes to the beer[10]. Of course, that’s OK when you’re not sipping the beer slowly. The British session doesn’t depend on flavor as much as the American craft beer session. It depends on friendship, good conversation, and whoever is buying the next round. It seems to me that the Brits aren’t about savoring the beer, they’re about savoring the experience.
At some point, Steve proposed that maybe there needs to be a new term for the session of higher gravity beers I prefer. I considered something like “high-gravity session” or “craft beer session”, but they seemed to take the fun out of the session. Maybe it doesn’t matter what I call it. It’s a session. It’s a chance to try a really great beer. It’s beer on my deck on a hot summer night. It’s beer in front of the fire in the dead of winter. It’s beer with pizza. It’s beer for dessert. Really, it’s just beer.
So, I still don’t know that a session beer is the same for everyone. I guess it doesn’t really have to have one definition. I suppose it’s whatever you want it to be. If you’re at the pub, it’s probably a 4% bitter. If you’re at Sycamore, it might be a 9% hopbomb. If you’re at the frat house, it might even be a case of Natty Light[11]. The term “session” doesn’t really matter. I’ll show up to my tasting next month with a beer in the 4-6% range as anything lower isn’t really worth the cost in flavor, but I’ll long for the session that will take place after the tasting when I finally get a chance to sip on that big, oak-aged imperial stout I’ve had my eye on.
[BA’s Top Session Beers]
[The Session Beer Project]
Notes:
1Although, I don’t choose my beers based on ABV. It just usually ends this way. Also, I usually opt for a lower gravity beer at the end of the evening in order to keep that hangover bug away.
2Please don’t name-drop some king or queen here. First, monarchs are not deities. Second, they have no say over Americans via the Revolutionary War.
3I have never done any of these, but I suspect the “etc.” refers to the things I have done when intoxicated inebriated annihilated.
4However, we beer geeks often discuss the booziness of a beer, suggesting that ABV does have an effect on flavor. Also, it was suggested somewhere that American brewers up the ABV so as to squeeze more flavor out of generally flavorless American strains of malt. I don’t think that’s true at all. However, if American malt is weak, I’d argue that British yeast tastes like stale vegetables. I don’t want to go there. This is not an anti-UK post. I promise.
5This is quite possibly the strongest point of my argument.
6This “[sic]” is only meant as a jab at British spellings. It’s meant to be funny. Even more ironic is how many grammatical and spelling mistakes can be found in the original comment which I have conveniently edited for the purposes of not looking like a bumbling idiot on my own blog.
7A distraction that has warranted many a blog post.
8“Philosophies” is a bit hyperbolic, I admit, but we’re talking about a cornerstone of British culture here.
9I sort of half-assed Googled this and decided Britain has never had prohibition. This very well could be wrong, but I stand by the fact that the British never experienced anything like our prohibition.
10A friend often refers to beers as tasting “British”, meaning that odd, stale, vegetably flavor in British yeast. The Belgians produce raisins in their beer; the British produce old vegetables. That’s not a knock on British beer. That’s just how it tastes to me.
11No. It’s never a case of Natty Light.
Pavement – July 18, 2010
Disclaimer: This is more than a week after Pavement played Pitchfork, but it took forever for me to write in between things like a day job and parenthood. It’s not the perfect sound forever post I originally intended, but it’s a done post and that’s good enough. I hope you’re liking the new footnotes. They certainly make for an easier read. Also, I got no good pictures at the show, which may somehow be appropriate. For more on my Pitchfork experience, click here.
Yep, that's how I remembered them.
I waited eleven years to see my favorite band play again[1]. And they started off where they left it in 1999. I mean, it was Chicago instead of Cincinnati and July instead of October, but Pavement was the same.
Pavement’s ability to be rather ordinary or even somewhat imperfect both amazed and infuriated the fans around me, 10-15 feet from the stage, but it made me feel right at home. It was amazingly normal for a Pavement show. Some of the kids who stood for hours with me in front of the Aluminum stage Sunday evening were in awe of this while others were pissed it wasn’t better.
The Band
Here’s my take on each band member. I feel like I know them after years of following the band in the 90’s and even more years reading everything I can get my hands on[2]. Of course, I don’t really know the members of Pavement personally, but I’ve seen them live enough to make a few observations.
Stephen Malkmus was stationed stage-right[3] as usual. However, never had I noticed him to be so separate from the rest of the band. Maybe it was the size of the stage or all those things I read about how distant he was from his band mates near the end. Malk was situated as if he were playing to the rest of Pavement as they were playing to us. Anyway, he overcame some early voice issues to put on a pretty good show. His guitar playing is so much better than it used to be. I knew this from seeing him several times with the Jicks, but it was rather apparent upon watching his fingers dance along his guitar, improvising throughout the set. The best part may have happened when he forgot to that it was his responsibility to start a song, such is the essence of Pavement.
Mark Ibold was center stage and having a great time there. He constantly turned to different band members for various cues. He too is a better musician than he was eleven years ago[4]. Ibold was always happy on stage, but Sunday he seemed to exude a confidence from his years with Pavement and now as a part of Sonic Youth’s lineup.
Also seemingly having fun was Scott Kannberg, situated opposite of Malk. Looking a little heavier but nonetheless happier, Spiral Stairs dutifully played his parts and enjoyed his time with his mates. He was wearing a conductor’s hat and, oddly enough, a t-shirt that seemed to match Ibold’s. In fact, four of the band members seemed to be wearing similarly bluish-gray t-shirts with Malk wearing a buttoned-up shirt.
The two-headed percussion monster of Steve West and Bob Nastanovich were by far the most active of the group. Westy played well, if not off time periodically throughout the set, but this was to be expected. I’d never noticed before, but it seemed some of the odd phrasing and drawn out chords from Malkmus were often intended to get everyone (especially West) back on track. I just always thought it was part of his shtick. Who knew?
Bob, of course, held down his many spots on stage, keeping time, blasting the Moog, and taking over all the screaming parts for a weary Malkmus. Nasty looked to me to be the one getting the most out of this reunion. Although I believe Kannberg values the band’s perception and legacy the most, it’s Bob whose only musical outlet is Pavement. The others all have their musical projects. Nastanovich was using the entire hour-and-a-half set to get this music bug out of his system. And we were all very grateful.
The Setlist
1. Cut Your Hair – Even with a false start, I was so happy to hear the band’s one “hit”. It made me look forward to returning home where I could sing this song yet again to my daughter[5].
2. In The Mouth A Desert – A typical mid-tempo Slanted and Enchanted track with a slow build-up to a chaotic ending was a logical place to go next. And when Malk sang “I’m the king of it”, there was little doubt of what “it” was[6].
3. Silence Kit – Another Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain track took the third slot and carried on the mid-tempo party. This one may have gotten a bigger reception than the opener.
4. Kennel District – You had to know that one of the few Spiral Stairs songs would make it into the set[7]. This one is probably his best and band really brought it home.
5. Shady Lane – The promotional posters the band was selling at the merch booth read “It’s everybody’s God”, leading me to believe that the song would make the list[8]. The pause in the middle was perfectly executed and the pit went about as wild as possible for such a light, mid-tempo song.
6. Frontwards – This song has grown in prominence since the band broke up and for good reason. Besides that it’s a great song, the guitar heroics were particularly crowd-pleasing. One thing the song also does is reminds us of why the band broke up in the first place as Malk sings “Well I’ve got style/Miles and miles/So much style that it’s wasting[9].”
7. Unfair – This rocker got the pit hopping. It also caused an inordinate amount of kids yelling the lyrics. Of course, we were all spent at this point, that is until…
8. Grounded – This song’s opening plucks cut through the must and dirt drummed up in the pit. When it’s proclaimed that “boys are dying on these streets”, I sort of believed it as I was pressed into my neighbors in the ninety-degree heat.
9. Debris Slide – This one was a chance for Bob to be front and center with the chorus being a shout-along.
10. Spit on a Stranger
11. Range Life – As the band approached the third verse, I wondered if Billy Corgan[10] was in the audience. Malk altered the words slightly to say “Chicago’s Pumpkins: flower kids/ they’ve got no function.”
12. Perfume-V
13. Trigger Cut – Two old-school rockers picked up the set’s pace a bit before…
14. Stereo – A good setlist often has a build-up somewhere in the middle and just bombards you. The pit was absolutely insane at this moment.
15. Two States – What a romp this song was and you wouldn’t expect anything else as the audience screamed “forty million daggers!”
16. Gold Soundz – I still remember singing songs like this as I drove though the Ohio countryside with the windows rolled down. This is where I fell in love with this band 15 or so years ago[11].
17. Conduit For Sale! – The first four or so times I saw Pavement, they never played this song. Now, I’ve seen them play two times in a row. Of course, before Sunday, it had been eleven years ago.
18. Stop Breathin‘
19. Here – These two somewhat somber songs started the slow wind-down to the end.
20. The Hexx – Almost any track from Terror Twilight would have been a good one with which to conclude. Of course, “Carrot Rope” may have been a bit too heavy[12].
The Audience
After a long weekend with 18,000 new friends, I quickly assessed that the crowd up front at each stage was young, or younger than me anyway. Pavement’s set was no different. I did find a few fans in my age group, though. I met some guys from Iowa who were also attending the KC show I’m going to in September. There was one guy who had listened to Pavement since ’92 and had never seen them in person. Other than that, it was a lot of kids.
While it’s good that my favorite band’s legacy will live on with all these young fans, it’s bittersweet as these kids had little context with which to judge what they were seeing[13]. For one, there was a freaking mosh pit. I thought those had died out a long time ago, but I saw a lot of moshing throughout the weekend and Pavement’s set had its share as well. There was also a lot of shouting the lyrics. My siblings and I used to love to play around with the delivery of Malkmus lyrics much the way SM does on stage. Shouting is more Bob’s territory, but the majority of Pavement songs should be sung, not yelled. I’ve since dismissed the moshing and shouting as youthful exuberance. There actually isn’t anything wrong with that.
The other thing I observed in the audience was the extreme emotions some of the kids demonstrated. These two kids next to me were in this blissful daze as if they were seeing god. Now, I love Pavement, but part of their charm is how ordinary they actually are. The music they make is remarkable, but it’s also attainable.
An issue that caused some terrible suffering was the bass levels. Positioned right in front of the stage, we were blasted by a ton of Mark Ibold’s bass. My suspicion is that everyone else in Union Park thought it sounded fine as the majority of the sound system is directed at them. Sometimes when you’re right in front, the sound is shittier than if you’re all the way in the back[14]. Nonetheless, a few fans were losing their shit over the bass being too loud. Sure, it was a little bass-heavy (not exactly a cornerstone of the Pavement sound), but that’s the trade-off when you get that close to such a large stage. I was cool with it since I knew what the songs sounded like. I certainly feel like the kid who was screaming and pleading for the band to turn down the bass just had no perspective on the whole thing. He seemed really hurt that they wouldn’t fix the bass levels for his listening experience.
Then the show ended abruptly without an encore[15]. Malk encouraged people to head out to a club to see label mates Times New Viking[16]. Several young fans around me were infuriated. The band didn’t play “Summer Babe“. They didn’t do an encore and they wanted everyone to end the night at a gig for some unknown band in a shitty little club. I thought it was perfect, myself. They played a great set, leaving everyone wanting more[17]. The set was incredibly varied and loaded with fan favorites. And Malk’s encouragement to see TNV demonstrated how these guys don’t see themselves as the legends everyone else does. They’re just another band on Matador.
Did Pavement live up to my expectations? Surprisingly, yes. I was prepared that they wouldn’t be able to match the anticipation I’ve had for this reunion since the Central Park shows were announced almost a year ago. I figured they could never live up to that lofty position they’ve held in my indie rock hierarchy, but they did. Pavement is imperfectly perfect[18] in every way. It’s hard not to meet that kind of expectation.
Notes:
1It happened to be their last North American gig, a fact not completely apparent to us at that moment.
2I don’t mean this in a creepy super-fan kind of way. I am not a stalker. I promise.
3Which is left to the audience.
4Although, I honestly never thought he was a terrible bass player. Ibold isn’t the best musician ever, but he’s a solid groove-provider.
5She refers to it as the “monkey song” as the ooh-ooh-ooh’s sound more like monkeys than some dudes from Stockton.
6Regardless of which bands left the fest with the most buzz, it’s pretty undeniable where music would be without Pavement’s influence. If not aesthetics, then the ethics of the band have been copied by many an indie band. It’s hard to deny the footprint of a band like Pavement after a weekend at Pitchfork.
7I could have lived without any Kannberg songs, but I understood why there was room for one.
8Of course, I also figured the setlist would only consist of songs from their greatest hits record. I was wrong about that one. Cynics don’t always win.
9Let me explain. Malk is the reason Pavement was any good. That’s been proven by the collective output of the band members. By far the best and most remarkable work has come from SM. Kannberg’s some recording as has West, but I wouldn’t begin to compare the quality of their work with Stephen Malkmus. His talents were nearly wasted in Pavement. I think they got all they could out of that lineup.
10You do know that Corgan has his issues with Pavement, right? They made fun of the Smashing Pumpkins in the aforementioned line. Corgan proceeded to boot Pavement from the ’94 Lollapalooza lineup for such a transgression.
11Who hasn’t fallen in love with a band and/or album this way? Well, driving through the countryside with the windows down, not necessarily the Ohio part.
12As “Carrot Rope” has generally been cited as the Pavement break up song despite it’s upbeat tempo.
13I am totally generalizing the audience here. I do realize there are some rather sophisticated music fans under 30, even under 20. The audience was loaded with kids who would be just as happy attending Bonaroo or Lollapalooza as Pitchfork. They may even have more Phish, Lady Gaga, or Green Day MP3’s than Pavement. That’s OK, but it explains some of the reactions to Pavement’s set.
14I don’t completely understand this phenomena, but I think it has to do with the source of the sound and overall acoustics. Those up front in any venue get mostly the blast from the band’s speakers and amps. The rest of the audience gets a mix that is more balanced as the house speakers often send sound past the front of the stage. The best sound at a show is rarely right up front. I’ve been to shows where the only way I was going to hear the singing was to be close enough to hear it straight from the performer’s mouth or even through the monitors. Otherwise, I believe it’s better to be further back.
15Well, the set did last around 90 minutes. No encore was needed.
16Along with psychedelic horseshit, both Columbus, OH bands. That was my old stomping grounds, but I left before these two shit-gaze troupes took off.
17This is common for Pavement. Just look at the band’s demise in ’99. For an example of not knowing when to stop in order for fans to want more, see Pixies and/or Guided By Voices.
18Or perfectly imperfect. I couldn’t decide which one was more apt.
Pitchfork Recap
I had a lot of ideas for blogging post-Pitchfork, but figured most of you would just want a rundown of the bands. Included are a few of the pictures that actually turned out. I’m decent with close-up angles and whatnot, but I can’t get the hang of the zoom, holding still, or context from a distance. So, there are very few good pictures to share [1].
So, without further ado, here’s my take on this year’s Pitchfork Music Festival…
Friday
The train actually arrived somewhat on time for me to catch a cab to my hotel and make the Metro with enough of a window to make The Tallest Man on Earth’s set (or at least part of it). However, I soon realized my ticket was still in my hotel room. So, I missed the first performer on my list to see. No worries as it gave me time to figure out the festival layout, grab some food, drink a beer, and buy a Pitchfork t-shirt for my child[2].
First up for me was Liars. Something can be said for a man in a sleeveless Men At Work t-shirt providing deep, foreboding vocals over a dark, punk rawk onslaught. Well, the t-shirt was a one-time thing, me thinks, but the rest of it was all Liars. They absolutely assaulted the crowd with their uneasy, tension-heavy, Slint-like dirges. I don’t know what it is, but dark, ominous bands like this work for outdoor summer music festivals. The contrast is striking. They don’t give a shit as their pale skin burns in the sun and the band expects nothing less than for the audience to pay attention, bobbing heads to the beat of their somber message. To say the least, it was a quite a start to the weekend.
For something lighter, I headed to the Balance stage for the comedic stylings of Wyatt Cenac – yes, that Wyatt Cenac. Before the Daily Show correspondent came on, Hannibal Burress[3] was wrapping up. He was comfortable and fluid, even at ease with the crowd of music fans and hipsters. Then, Cenac came out. He started slow and built some momentum before he completely flopped. Something changed[4]. I don’t know whether a joke missed or what, but Cenac just sort of stuttered through the rest of his bit. I chose to move on instead of watching this sinking ship.
I opted to skip Robyn[5] and wait over at the Connector stage for Broken Social Scene to commence. And commence they did as the current line-up bounced around their catalog seamlessly. They were much more focused than the last time I caught them. Of course, the set times at a festival such as Pitchfork mean more concise setlists. Still, BSS were a lot of fun. That was apparent as they started with new rocker “World Sick” but followed it with the BSS classic “Stars and Sons”. The set was about as perfect as could be expected[6].
Modest Mouse closed out the first day on the main stage, also known as the Aluminum. I was beat from the day’s travel, so I hung back to for the set. As I wore a 13-year-old Modest Mouse t-shirt[7], I remembered the days of seeing this band in small clubs. I appreciate those opportunities so much more now as Modest Mouse has long ago made the transition to this sort of stage and spot in a festival lineup. Funny, the one song that probably put them in that position (“Float On”) was not a part of the setlist[8], but “Dramamine” was and I was taken back to the show where I bought that t-shirt in a club with washing machines in Cincinnati[9]. It reminded me that I still like Modest Mouse, possibly more out of a feeling of nostalgia than anything they record these days. Either way, it was a nice way to close out the evening.
I beat the crowd[10] and searched out a bar with a nice tap and bottle list. I sipped a Two Brothers Hop Juice which was the perfect antidote for a road-weary traveler. I liked the beer so much that I made a point to bring a bomber home, among several other select brews. More on all that in a future post[11].
Saturday
This was my first full day in the city, so I intended to take advantage. Near Union Park where the festival was being held, there was a restaurant/bar called Twisted Spoke. A graveyard of motorcycles sat out front, but inside was an impressive bar with even a more impressive beer selection. The list was so good that I contemplated hanging around for a late morning beer[12] or at least a return for beers in the evening. However, it was not in the cards. Instead, I loaded up on calories with a passable breakfast burrito. Still, the Twisted Spoke will be on the list for my next Chicago trip, whenever that is.
There were a lot of early performers on Saturday’s lineup I wanted to at least catch a glance so as to form a more complete opinion of their work. First up was Netherfriends, a Chicago band whose releases are put out on the Columbia, MO label Emergency Umbrella. They were much sharper in my opinion than last summer’s EU showcase. I made sure to catch Free Energy over on the Aluminum stage and just couldn’t get into the cheesy hippie vibe they were selling. Think of every cheesy pop-rock hit of the 70’s and 80’s and there you have Free Energy. It’s funny how recycled sounds in music are often confused for innovation[13].
Real Estate[14] took over Connector. What came out was a pleasant surprise as they recalled my entire college years of going to see bands trying to emulate Pavement with their oddly hooky melodies and odder guitar tunings. They were good enough to make my list of bands with LP’s to purchase. Part way through, I caught a moment or two of Sonny & the Sunsets at Balance…but I really don’t remember much. They were poppy, entertaining, sort of doo-wop retro or something. They weren’t as annoying as Free Energy, but they also weren’t as memorable either. So, I returned for the rest of Real Estate’s stellar set.
I watched a couple of pointless minutes of Delorean[15] before heading to Balance for Kurt Vile. Where Real Estate reminded me of the local bands I used to see and love, Vile reminded me of many of my nineties heroes. With his long hair in his face, shoegazing, I was reminded on several occasions of another Kurt. His form of garage rock made me think of everything from the hinted-at Nirvana to Guided By Voices to Dinosaur Jr[16]. Kurt Vile’s catalog certainly deserves a closer listen than the one EP I currently own[17].
Sadly, I had to leave Vile’s set early in order to catch the opening of Titus Andronicus’ Connector performance. Although leaving before Vile completed was unfortunate, it was well-worth it as Titus put on one of the more impassioned sets of the festival. I knew they would be a great live band, but it was even better than expected. Luckily, the next act on Connector was another rawk outfit[18] in The Jon Spencer Blues Explosion. JSBX was in mid-nineties form and quite possibly was the best-dressed act of the weekend[19]. The band ripped through a mixture of the old and newish, showing the kids what rock ‘n roll is all about. The last two times I had seen them, they played too little (about 10 minutes) and way too much (somewhere in the ballpark of 2.5 hours[20]). So, it was great to hear/see a blistering sub-hour-long set from the old men of rawk.
I quickly made it over to a rather crowded Aluminum stage for Wolf Parade’s turn. I’ve loved this band for a while and have greatly anticipated seeing them. Keeping the pace set by Titus and JSBX (sans a brief and awkward interruption from former Wu Tanger Raekwon[21]), Wolf Parade did not disappoint, opting for little banter and preferring to just play. The cool synth sounds of Spencer Krug balanced perfectly with Dan Boeckner’s rock licks. This was something I’ve always known, but it actually translated live in the early evening sun.
Originally, my plan at this point was to skip the last two acts and hit a brewery, but the long day took it’s toll. I opted instead to stay for Panda Bear and LCD Soundsystem. Panda Bear was interesting, even somewhat enjoyable. However, it was a bit of a snore for an outdoor music festival. LCD Soundsystem, on the other hand, were really pretty good, revealing to me their appeal. LCD is a rock band making dance music or DJ’s making rock music or something like that. Anyway, I enjoyed much of their set, but had to sneak out early in preparation for day 3.
Sunday
Day 3 was easily the best day of the festival. Besides the headliner, the day was loaded with the best buzz bands and most eclectic mix. I spent more time at the Balance stage than the first two days as its lineup was packed with interesting bands all day long. At some point, sacrifices had to be made.
I saw very little of CAVE, a Chicago band with Columbia connections, due to a 20 minute thunderstorm which wreaked havoc on the stage’s sound system[22]. The stage was running behind for the rest of the day. With CAVE’s late start, I decided to head over to see Allá. Despite the Latin flair in their promotional material, I didn’t catch much of a Latin presence aside from three of the band member’s perceived ethnicity. What I did detect is some good, old-fashioned grunge. This band would have thrived circa 1992. Sunday, they were good enough to demand some attention. I later returned to see CAVE’s rather impressive finale.
At this point, the dance between stages had only begun. I moved between sets by Cass McCombs (think Elvis Costello pop sensibility in front of a garage band), Best Coast (surprisingly great), Girls (infinitely better than the last time I saw them), Local Natives (White Rabbits with more punch and harmonizing, if that’s possible), Beach House (more below), Lightning Bolt (freakishly entertaining[23]), and Surfer Blood (also see below).
I bought the first Beach House record and haven’t really gone back for more. The record was good, but I didn’t really grasp what they were doing that was so great. This year’s release was getting a fair amount of pub, so I made a point to check them out on Sunday. I’m glad I did as their sets was easily one of the top five of the festival. The music reminded me of Cat Power, pre-R&B obsession and without all the crazy. I get their appeal now. Beach House won me over this weekend.
Another band I was not sold on was Surfer Blood. Their debut was fine enough, but I wasn’t sure what it was doing. Was it alt.country? Was it straight-up rock similar to Soft Pack? Was it bland adult-alternative crap? Their live show cleared up the confusion. More than almost any other band in this year’s lineup (along with Real Estate), Surfer Blood reminded me of Pavement. The vocals were more American-meets-Manchester and the musicianship may have been better, but it was very Pavement-esque. They’re not a Pavement clone, but they’ve gleaned enough to make some pretty compelling rock music.
This was the point in the day I made a decision. I didn’t need to see any other band besides Pavement. I skipped out on Here We Go Magic, a band I was really wanting to see. I did this just so I could set up shop 10-15 feet from the Aluminum stage where Pavement would play three hours later. From this spot, I “watched” St. Vincent tear up the Connector stage. She was really impressive, much more so than when I saw her open for Andrew Bird, but I didn’t leave my spot. I survived Major Lazer and waited through Big Boi just to stay near the stage.
Before moving on, I have to write something about Major Lazer. Major Lazer is a DJ, hype man, and various dancers. That hype man and the two featured female dancers simulated sex on stage while downing copious amounts of alcohol. I’m no prude, but this was some raunchy-ass shit. We’re talking doggy-style, legs wrapped around waists, and even sexual acts involving one participant launching himself[24] from a ladder onto his “dance partner”. Of course, the music is sexually charged as anything I’ve heard. Whatever. It was highly entertaining. I can’t say that I’m a Major Lazer fan, but it could have been worse.
Big Boi played the other stage and then there was Pavement.
It was as if they had never left. The band, somehow frozen in time, took the stage in their customary positions – SM on the left[25], Ibold center-stage, Spiral Stairs on the right, Nasty & West in the back – and promptly false-started their first song. The second try at “Cut Your Hair” went much smoother. This was exactly as I remember my favorite band even after eleven years of silence. They were perfectly imperfect from the beginning. There’s so much more for me to say about Pavement that won’t fit in this post. I’ll do another just on their set later this week. Just know that it was as good as advertised. I can’t wait to see them again in September.
That was my weekend. I had some time on Monday to wander Chicago and grab some more beer to take home. The train was over an hour behind schedule, but that didn’t dampen my mood. There will be more on Pavement and Chicago’s status as a beer destination later this week. So, stay tuned. In the meantime, read through the footnotes[26].
Notes:
1And I use the term “good pictures” rather loosely.
2This is where I am in my life now. I buy rock concert t-shirts for my kid. It’s no longer about me proving to everyone how rock ‘n roll I am. It’s now about proving to everyone how rock ‘n roll my kid is. I don’t know whether it’s pathetic or sweet.
3He claimed to have a gig with Saturday Night Live. I believed him, but I thought for sure Lorne Michaels had a one-black-dude limit. I could be wrong though.
4I think it had to do with the noise from the other stages.
5If I want pop, I’ll go to a Brittney concert. Seriously, from what I could hear, it was downright awful. Of course, I know some dudes who would disagree.
6Although, Brendan Canning looked like a middle-aged woman with his slightly over-sized glasses, bright tank top, and feathered hairdo. Kevin Drew looked like a skinnier, younger Jeff Tweedy in his panama and sunglasses. Still, they were quite excellent musically.
7This breaks maybe the biggest rule in my concert-going rulebook. You should never be that guy who wears a band t-shirt for the band you are seeing. However, I considered two facts as exceptions to the rule. First, this t-shirt, along with JSBX and Pavement t-shirts worn the next two days, is more than a decade old, featuring bands from my college days. Second, outdoor summer festivals have different rules in general regarding such things. I believe I was well-within my right to wear these t-shirts.
8I will not lose any sleep over this fact.
9It’s called Sudsy Malones. I had a beard and wore a thrift store sweater like every day back then. We actually got to meet Isaac Brock that night. He offered us beers, giving three of us one and keeping one for himself as he hit on a female companion of ours and our brother’s roommate who had similar Buddhist-inspired tattoos as Brock.
10Encores were put in place for old people like myself to slip out before the kids clog the exits.
11My beer adventures were not that impressive on this trip, but I do have an impression as to what kind of beer city Chicago is.
12I really wanted a Founders Cerise, but figured 11:00 am was too early for a beer. And with the temperatures expected in the 90’s, getting an early start with the alcohol was not the best of ideas.
13Yes, I do recognize that many of the bands I praise on this blog do the same thing. However, they often emulate bands I also like. So, reinvention is great when it’s something worth recycling.
14Mentioning this band will undoubtedly get me some SPAM comments from real estate agents. I was able to Tweet one thing about Real Estate and I now have real estate agents from all over the country following me.
15In all fairness, Delorean played really hard. They just aren’t my cup of tea. I’m OK with synth music and music intended for dance clubs. I just don’t like a lot of it disguised as an indie band. Is that close-minded? Probably. Do I care? Not really.
16I realized that Vile toured with Dinosaur Jr upon purchasing a concert poster in the fest’s gallery of poster makers. It’s a Dinosaur Jr poster featuring a wine bottle just before it is de-corked. Kurt Vile is listed as an opener.
17The EP isn’t terrible. It’s just full of a tracks that sound like he’s fucking around. Vile’s live show is way more compelling than fucking around.
18Although I am not anti-keyboards, I grow weary of them after a while. Just play some guitar, dammit.
19I am particularly talking about Jon’s pants. He wore black vinyl with neon green stitching and he owned those pants.
20Oddly enough, that show was also a summer festival in a major city, sponsored by an entertainment rag. It was the inaugural Village Voice Siren Festival on Coney Island.
21OK. I am also not anti-hip hop. I love the Wu and a lot of other hip hop acts. I just often have a hard time with alt rock festivals throwing some hip hop acts into the lineup and then watching a bunch of middle-class white kids getting all gangsta for an hour. It’s fine if it’s your thing. I’m just not that into it.
22But it allowed me to check out some of the vendors a little more closely. I picked up the 33⅓ take on Wowee Zowee which I digested on the train ride back to Missouri.
23Lightning Bolt is two dudes. One plays bass. The other plays drums with some sort of mask. There’s a mic inside the mask which muffles everything the drumming screamed over their music. Oh, and they played ridiculously fast. If you ever get a chance to see them live, do it.
24And herself.
25Almost to the point that he was by himself, playing toward his band mates.
26I suspect this was a lot easier to read than past posts, given that I now have added anchored footnotes. Thanks David for the idea.
Band of Horses
The last time I saw Band of Horses, this happened. Had that happened again last night, I would have wondered if there was witchcraft involved1. It didn’t happen and I saw BoH at The Blue Note here in lovely Columbia, Missouri.
I’ll make this quick as I still have laundry and packing to do before I leave for Chicago tomorrow. Besides, this was more of a warm-up for the weekend anyway.
I met friends at a favorite watering hole called Sycamore2. Avery’s Salvation, a Belgian-style strong golden ale was tapped this week. It was not as impressive as it should have been. The beer was too sweet and sort of smelled like a Belgian, but not really. Avery is a great brewery, but this beer left a lot to be desired.
We hit the Blue Note after our beers for the sold-out show. Had I not already known it was sold-out, I would have figured things out quickly as there was no room to move at all. It also didn’t help that it was a sausage fest of the grandest proportions3. What I mean is that we found ourselves in the middle of a frat party with a bunch of sweaty, beefy dudes all around. Never have I wished there were more hipsters at a show than I did last night4. Apparently, this is where Band of Horses has landed: Mainstreamville (AKA Broville).
BoH, meanwhile, played a really solid set. I can’t complain too much about the band’s effort. They were pretty tight and Ben Bridwell’s voice was spot-on. I do think the setlist was a bit front-heavy. BoH blew their wad when they played “Funeral” and “Great Salt Lake” in the first nine songs, but the set did include a decent Gram Parson’s cover (“A Song for You”). The set list is here.
Unfortunately, the sound was low enough that we couldn’t always hear them over the bros “singing” along and pumping their fists5.
I decided to counter the bro action with some obnoxiousness of my own. I proceeded to scream for Creedence Clearwater Revival’s “Effigy” since BoH played it the last time I saw them. At first, there were lots of laughs when we’d yell “Effigy” or “play some Creedence” or “play that ‘Effigy’ song by CCR only more like Uncle Tupelo played it on 1994’s No Alternative compilation”. Eventually, our shtick grew old. People yelled for us to shut up. I never gave up, though, until they played the last song of the night.
Like I said, it was a warm-up for the weekend6. I’ll try to keep you all posted via the iPhone while I’m at Pitchfork. Expect a full rundown of the weekend some time next week7.
Notes:
1I don’t think it’s ever snowed in Missouri in July, but I could be wrong. Is this really worth a footnote?
2It’s not really a watering hole. Sycamore is an actual restaurant with pretty great food. Their beer selection just also happens to be top-notch.
3I do not mean to say that the men at the show were all well-endowed. There was no way of knowing this without getting my ass kicked. I am also not say that this was a night of large German and/or Polish sausages. Had it been, I might have been a little more excited. For the sausage, not the well-endowed men. Not that there’s anything wrong with well-endowed men or liking them. It’s just not for me.
4Hipsters not only make an audience infinitely more interesting to watch, they also tend to take up less space than frat bros.
5Yes, fist-pumping has a sound. When they do it with enough umph, any bro’s fist-pumping can be deafening. Just ask the bros on Jersey Shore.
6Pray that lightning doesn’t interrupt Pavement on Sunday.
7I’m thinking Wednesday-ish I might start running through the weekend. We’ll see.
LeBron James, Matador, and Disappointment
Disappointment is a part of life. Not everything goes your way. Disappointment can be a downer, it can even hurt a little. Sometimes, that disappointment is so bad that it morphs into distress or depression. Even once you accept disappointment’s inevitability, it doesn’t make the pain go away any quicker.
Sometimes we set ourselves up for the worst disappointments. Hype is built all around a person or an experience, hype that is never attainable. There’s this sense of entitlement that things should go our way just because we want it so badly. In these instances, the letdown is greatest.
Such is the disappointment in my home state of Ohio1. That’s where LeBron James pulled the dagger stuck in Cleveland’s collective sporting heart, washed it in the polluted Cuyahoga River, and returned it to its home deep inside Cleveland Municipal Stadium where he twisted until there was no life left. In other words, he took advantage of his free agent status and signed with a team that is not the Cleveland Cavaliers who have the ability to win championships in the next two to three years as opposed to losing them the past three2. James is now a Heat3. The fans of Cleveland are so disenchanted from this letdown that they’re burning jerseys, making vague death threats, and even writing angry letters in Comic Sans4.
I won’t bore you with the trials and tribulations that is professional sports history in Cleveland5. Let’s just say they have not had much luck. However, when James was drafted as an 18-year-old phenom from nearby Akron, Clevelanders were convinced this was the ticket to ending their suffering. James himself declared his desire to bring a championship to Cleveland, but what star athlete wouldn’t do the same for their long suffering city? Cleveland fans bought into the myth, the legend-in-the-making. Suddenly, it was as if that 30% unemployment rate had disappeared. Drew Carey became funny. And videos like this would soon lose all humor and relevance…
So, things were good for a while. Even though the Indians6 and Browns were still just..well, the Indians and Browns, Cleveland sports fans had hope that LeBron James would return for another go at a championship. The Cavs had the best record in the league for two straight years and James was the two-time reigning NBA MVP as well. If he signed with the Cavs this off-season, LeBron could guarantee himself a max contract and the adoration of Clevelanders for eternity7.
Instead, over the course of an hour-long ESPN infomercial for his ego, LeBron James disappointed every single Cavs fan by deciding to move to Miami. Now, pro athletes do this all the time. However, an expectation had been built that LeBron would never leave Cleveland and win them a sorely needed championship. Sure, some of those expectations were built-up by a 25-year-old man8 who can dunk a basketball with the best of them, but most of those expectations were built or at least embellished by a fanbase hungry for a championship.
Cavs fans were more than a little disappointed and they demonstrated their hurt by burning James in effigy and declaring him enemy #1. They felt they had a right to a championship. They were spoiled by seven years of pretty amazing basketball and rhetoric that made them believe that even Cleveland was entitled to a championship. The entitlement unfulfilled left the people of Cleveland very, very disappointed to say the least.
Sorry for the sporting news, moving on with another example of disappointment…
In my world, I have been obsessed with the Matador 21st anniversary party in Las Vegas and I’m not the only one. If you were to peruse the comments on the Matablog, you would find a similarly ravenous fanbase to the one that follows the Cleveland basketball franchise. And even before the tickets were to go on-sale, a similar sentiment was expressed as those pour fanatics in Cleveland.
Matador fans were already disappointed with the ticket price, hotel accommodations, Las Vegas’ allotment of tickets9, the lack of information, ticket price, no Thinking Fellers Union Local 282 reunion, an inability to call in sick for work to get tickets, ticket price, etc. before the tickets ever went on sale. There was a huge cry of disappointment that no one10 would be able to see maybe the most amazing three-day lineup in American independent music history. And swirling among that disappointment was that same sense of entitlement felt by those jilted Cavalier fans. Only this time, folks who had original “Girly Sound” tapes and saw Pavement when Gary Young still did headstands off his kit were incensed that they were not given their desired allotment of tickets due to their years of fandom as opposed to LeBron James’ jersey-wearing “witnesses” pining for a championship.
In the end, 2,100 or so people were able to score tickets. The real disappointment came when the tickets were gone in 2 minutes11. I should know, I tried in vain for 25 minutes just to get tickets and hotel packages into my shopping cart with no luck. I, like many others, was disappointed.
Basically, these two fanbases suffered tremendous disappointments last week, but not so much because their favorite sports star or indie label had let them down. Oh no, it had more to do with this strange entitlement they seem to feel. Cavs fans feel they are entitled to a championship. Indie rock fans felt they were entitled to see a reunited Guided By Voices from a black jack table. From where does that entitlement come? Does anyone really need these things?
The only thing I can come up with is that fans feel they deserve to be paid for their loyalty, their patronage. Would LeBron James or Matador be where they are without their fans? Maybe. Maybe not. They are both among the best at what they do. Something tells me they can find more fans. The fact is neither LeBron James nor Matador Records owe anyone anything. Sure, it would have been nice if LeBron had stayed in Cleveland and somehow won a championship on 31-year-old knees only to never walk again12. And it would have been really sweet if I had scored tickets to that Matador thing. The fact is that neither thing worked out. They were both disappointments, but that’s it.
There’s a certain amount of blind faith that is involved in fanaticism which allows people to feel they are entitled to a little payback. However, just because you love LeBron James or Stephen Malkmus doesn’t mean you are entitled to their eternal servitude. In fact, it’s quite the opposite. You’re lucky James played seven seasons in Cleveland13. We’re lucky Malk decided to reunite Pavement14 for one last go. No one is entitled to these things.
In conclusion (because I feel this post rambling out of control), most of this disappointment could be held in check if folks had tempered their fanaticism. Fans are not entitled to anything more than what’s offered. If a band tours through your town and you’re able to go, great! If your favorite athlete chooses to sign with your hometown team and delivers a championship, fantastic! However, you are not entitled to these things. After all, it is just entertainment.
I feel lucky that LeBron James, may be the most famous person from my home state, played some pretty amazing basketball for a team in said state. I feel lucky that I have seen many of the bands in their prime that are set to play Matador’s celebration. Sure, I’m disappointed that things didn’t work out the way I would have liked, but that’s OK. There will be other athletic triumphs to enjoy and concerts to attend. I might be disappointed, but the only thing I’m entitled to do is move on.
Notes:
1Yes, this is not my current home state. However, when you lived the first 30 years in a place and have a tattoo to prove it, it is forever your home state.
2They tried to build a winner, but the problem is that the Cavs were built to win this year and they failed.
3I am not a fan of such team names as Heat, Magic, and the like. Really? There’s not some endangered species or terrible cultural stereotype from which you could mine your next mascot name?
4Comic Sans is a crime against humanity.
5That’s what footnotes are for! Let’s see, there’s The Drive, The Fumble, The Shot, The Burning River, The Game Seven, The Sweep, The Manny Ramirez, and now The Decision.
6Hate U, racist Chief Wahoo!
7Well, the adoration would last a while. He’d still have to win a championship, but one championship goes a long way in Cleveland.
8Who was, at one time, an 18-year-old kid in the NBA promising the same things. I don’t know about you, but I wouldn’t trust the 18-25 version of myself for anything.
9Which, from what I understand, was largely unclaimed after the online allotment went on sale. And the only reason Vegas was given so many tickets was because they whined about the lack of opportunity they had to score said tickets.
102,100 people to be exact.
11There was some confusion in the online ticketing system that caused some ticket-buyers to purchase more tickets and hotel rooms than they needed. For example, some people purchased four sets of four tickets and a room for four people. That’s sixteen tickets and four rooms for four people. There were some extra tickets for sale on Saturday, but I had had enough disappointment for one week.
12I suspect if James makes it to his 31-year-old bad knee self, he won’t be winning a trophy with any team.
13It should be noted that it may have been the most amazing first seven years of any NBA career in the history of the league. The kid is pretty impressive to watch.
14It probably wasn’t just up to SM, but had he said “no” there would have been no reunion.
Pitchfork
I recently read this and decided I should do my own Pitchfork preview. It’s three days of indie rock in a park in Chicago not called “Lollapalooza”1. I originally bought a pass to insure at least one Pavement reunion show this year2 and thought it would be nice to take in the whole weekend while I’m there.
Honestly, I’ve never been to anything like this, so it’ll be new to me. I’m not sure what to expect. My biggest goal is to not land on Look at this Fucking Hipster or Hipster Runoff as the novel aging hipster. Luckily, my aesthetic (mid-nineties indie geek) is not highly photographic at the moment. So, that means I won’t be flaunting my vintage Pavement, Modest Mouse, and Jon Spencer t-shirts next weekend3.
Below are the ten must-see bands (for me) at this year’s Pitchfork Music Festival. I am purposely not including Wolf Parade, Broken Social Scene, Modest Mouse, The Jon Spencer Blues Explosion, and Pavement since these bands are no-brainers for me4. I didn’t include St. Vincent and Girls as I have seen those acts before and were mildly impressed at best. I’m also not mentioning anything remotely connected to Chillwave as I still believe it to be a made-up genre, one I don’t have time to explore5. Anyway, on with the list…
Liars – The darkest, most sinister album I’ve heard this year has been Sisterworld. I want to see how this record translates live. The only problem is that it will happen outside at 5:30 in the middle of July. That isn’t a very dark or sinister time of day. Hopefully, Liars will wear suits and sweat through the agony.
The Tallest Man on Earth – I might actually miss this one. Amtrak will get me there – assuming they’re on time – at 3:10. That will leave me 50 minutes to check into my hotel and make it to Union Park. It’s possible if I opt for cabs. Either way, TTMOE’s album, The Wild Hunt, is one of my favorite discoveries this year. That and I’ve always wanted to see Bob Dylan live, in his prime.
Titus Andronicus – These guys have to put on an amazing live show. I don’t think it’s possible to record the albums they’ve put out over the last year or two without being complete maniacs on stage. This should be a balls-to-the-walls highlight for sure.
Kurt Vile – I don’t really know Vile very well. What I do know is that critics love him and some folks I respect think he’s pretty great. His latest EP just arrived today. I’m looking forward to getting to know Kurt Vile. This set will be my introduction.
Netherfriends – This is a shameless plug. These Chicagoans record for Emergency Umbrella, a local label run by friends of the Coalition. So, I feel I have to mention them. Of course, they’re pretty dynamic live. I’ll be interested to see how this set compares to the last time I saw them a year ago6.
Beach House – I liked Beach House’s first record. The second is getting rave reviews. I have yet to buy it. I want this duo to sell it to me via a moving performance at 3:20 on Sunday afternoon7.
Surfer Blood – Some days I like this band’s record. Some days I don’t. Regardless of the uneven character of the recording, something tells me they put on a great live show. I suspect I’ll get the record once I see them on stage.
Lightning Bolt – Here’s a band whose recordings don’t interest me enough to buy them. What I want to see is this.
Here We Go Magic – Another album that just arrived today is their Pigeons. I know very little about this band. A friend or two suggested them and they’re on Secretly Canadian. All that and I like their name.
Local Natives – They’re coming to town this fall, but I’ll get a preview at P4k. They have a ton of buzz and I’m interested to see what all the fuss is about.
Bonus: Comedians – Eugene Mirman, Michael Showalter, Wyatt Cenac8, and Hannibal Buress are occupying a stage Friday night. If I’m not into some of the bands, I can turn to the comedy stage for an alternative. This lineup is as good as it gets in the alternative comedy scene9.
There’s the list. Peruse the lineup and tell me who I’m missing. My projected agenda is below. I hope there’s time to eat and check out some of the merch. It looks like Saturday will be the early night as I plan to hit a bar or two.
Friday – The Tallest Man on Earth, Liars, Wyatt Cenac, Broken Social Scene, Eugene Mirman10, and Modest Mouse
Saturday – Netherfriends, Real Estate/Sonny & the Sunsets11, Kurt Vile, Titus Andronicus, Raekwon12, The Jon Spencer Blues Explosion, and Wolf Parade13
Sunday14 – Cave, Best Coast, Girls, Beach House/Local Natives, Lightning Bolt, Surfer Blood, St. Vincent, Here We Go Magic, and Pavement
Notes:
1I did Lollapalooza from ’93-’95. I got to see grunge’s last stand, Bob Pollard forget lyrics to his own song, and Pavement virtually destroy the traveling altfest. I’ve had my fill. Thank you very much.
2I have another in September and am working on one for October.
3Oh, I’ll wear them, but I just won’t flaunt them.
4I’ve seen them all except Wolf Parade who I missed due to parental and spousal duties.
5Meaning that I’ll wait for the truly good acts in the genre to survive and all the posers to quit playing instruments. The remains of a dead genre are usually the only worthwhile material. See Dinosaur Jr, Nirvana, and Kimya Dawson.
6It was a good but somewhat uneven set.
7Where the Liars’ slot feels so wrong, this one seems just right. Dreamy indie pop on a Sunday afternoon? Yes, please.
8Yes, the bearded black dude from The Daily Show.
9Unless you prefer Zach Galifianakis, David Cross, or Neil Hamburger.
10Assuming BSS don’t go long. Ha! Who am I kidding?
11Bands divided by a “/” mean that I will either split time or pick the one that impresses me more.
12I am not much of a hip-hop guy, but I sort of want to see a member of the Wu Tang Clan.
13If you check the actual lineup for Saturday, this indicates I will skip Panda Bear and LCD Soundsystem. Neither excites me. LCD downright annoyed me when I saw them open for Arcade Fire. I figure why push it at a time I might be tired of bands. This will be my opportunity to get a beer.
14This day is ridiculously crowded and will mean ten minutes here, ten minutes there, but it will all culminate in my first Pavement show in over a decade.
Pavement and Girls
Somewhere, someone has decided that girls1 don’t like Pavement. It’s a boys only club to like Pavement. Their shows are glorified sausage fests.
I know for a fact that this is not true. Regular commenter Carrie has professed a desire for a Kansas City reunion stop and often includes a Pavement track or two on her blog’s playlist. My sister is a long-time Pavement fan2. She can talk livestock all night long with Bob Nastanovich if you give her a chance. My last girlfriend before my wife joined me for the final North American Pavement show and even asked for a compilation to coincide. Today, these two Tweets ran through my feed here and here. Finally, my partner once surprised me as she took over a verse of “Cut your Hair” as we sang our daughter to sleep. She likes Pavement but is no fan. For her to just know the words out of nowhere was pretty impressive3.
So, as you can see, Pavement knows no gender lines4. They appeal to men and women. From where does this misconception come that they are only for dudes, bros, guys, etc.? I have a few theories which could probably apply to many other indie bands5, but, you know, I mostly write about this one band.
Overtly Masculine Hardcore/Punk Scenes
Pavement, although not the most masculine, hardcore, or punk band you’ll ever see/hear, definitely has roots in the scene. They rose from the ashes of eighties hardcore that helped break down barriers for 90’s indie rock. Some of that mentality bled into the newer scene. Mosh pits were tamer, but they were still there. I remember getting beat up pretty badly at a ’95 show6. Such a scene at any concert suggests overt masculinity on stage, but Pavement wasn’t the most aggressive band of their time by any means. This idea that hardcore and punk were for boys only was partially true, but with the advent of the Riot Grrrl movement and less manly groups like Pavement, it sort of died out and the audiences grew to be gender neutral, or at least gender friendly.
Boys and their Toys
I still remember the Pavement listserve7 I was on in the mid-90’s. There was a rather long debate about whether the subject of “Silence Kit” was about a guy or a girl. They went back and forth for days on this one topic. I don’t remember many of the arguments8, but one stuck out as particularly asinine. This one listserve member, obviously very proud of himself, pointed to the closing lyrics of the song:
till five hours later i’m…chewin’…screwin’ myself with my hands
The other dudes flooded the list with praise for the argument that only boys could screw themselves with their hands. Therefore, “Silence Kit/d” was a boy. Ten or so congratulatory messages later, a single female poster responded that she too could masturbate with just her hand. Crickets. Then, someone started up the topic of Pavement’s favorite word with “special” cited as the early leader9.
Lilith Fair
With the aforementioned Riot Grrrl movement, came the watered-down and rather tame Lilith Fair. This, we were told, was what women and girls liked to hear. I won’t use space to bash Lilith, except that the music generally put me and anyone else who loves music to sleep. Any self-respecting music lover – man or woman – didn’t go to Lilith for the music10. If anything, folks flocked to amphitheaters to see Sarah Mclaughlin and the Indigo Girls tear it up because it provided the only real opportunity for such a female-centric bill. Lilith had more to do with gender politics than it did good music. However, this was what we were told women and girls liked and it was nothing evenly remotely like Pavement.
They’re all in love with Stephen Malkmus. Secretly.
By “they” I mean the boys11. Never have fanboys felt this way about another man not throwing a ball or themselves into the air via large ramps. The boys want SM Jenkins for themselves. They feel girls are just lukewarm to his charm, but boys are totally gay for Malk, especially the gay ones. How can they compete with women when SM has demonstrated a preference for them? Well, they can shut the girls out. Keep them away from Pavement by any means necessary. This assures the sausage fest described above and means that one of these boys may have a chance with the man of his dreams…or at least a chance to hold hands with Mark Ibold.
Everything is about boys/men.
We do live in a patriarchy. Feminism has brought us a long way, but it’s still a man’s world. I’m not advocating for this. I want my daughter to have a fair shot in this world, but I’m a realist. Pavement is about boys and men because, well, everything is about them, us.
Regardless of whether these theories hold any truth12, Pavement is for all of us. There are messages and nuances we all can appreciate, regardless of our genitalia.
Notes:
1Lower case “g” means actual girls, not the band.
2She once entered a poetry contest for the band and lost. When she confronted a couple of band members behind the venue, they claimed ignorance. I don’t know. I think they were hiding something. It was a pretty good poem.
3And reminded me that she is pretty cool despite all that professorin’ she’s always doing…No, that’s cool too.
4Aside for the fact that they are an all-male group. Stay with me here.
5Seriously, boys think they have the indie market covered, but I know plenty of women who could easily name every member of Chavez, recite the lyrics to “Conduit for Sale”, and name every Guided By Voices’ release, pre-Cobre Verde.
6Some bros even took off their shirts. Really.
7Dumbest internet tool ever. Ranks up there with discussion boards, Friendster, and blogs.
8Because it was pointless. Of course, this was a listserve (see #7).
9“Special ones, made of gold”
10OK, maybe there were some. My point is not to rip Lilith. She’s a nice lady. I just want to point out that women’s tastes in music should not have been limited to this certain aesthetic, just as I’d like you to know that not all boys grow up loving Limp Biscuit.
11And probably me a little bit. He is a pretty man.
12They almost certainly don’t.
Mikkeller
I won’t even try to tell their story1. I’ll just goof up the details2.
Two Danish bros travel around Europe and the US, use the facilities at several fine craft breweries to create some of the best, if not most interesting beers around. There’s nifty packaging and even niftier names to boot. And they don’t just do the obscure styles. They do the beers we love: the imperial India pale ale, imperial stouts, Belgian styles, etc. And there’s also all those experimental beers, the sours, the stouts made with weasel poop3, and variations upon variations of their top sellers.
Again, Mikkeller may or may not be the best brewery in the world, but they are certainly the most interesting.
A friend came over for beers and dinner. For the evening, I broke out two Mikkeller brews. We split a bottle of the I Beat yoU DIPA they brewed at Scotland’s Brew Dog and the infamous and hard-to-fathom 1000 IBU.
One of the more interesting series of beers Mikkeller has released is their run of single-hopped IPA’s. In the arms race of the imperial/double IPA, Mikkeller has found a niche in isolating hops and playing with the style in ways few American brewers would ever try. Using a rather simple recipe, the Mikkeller boys isolated a hop with each batch, making it possible to taste side-by-side the differences in hops. I’ve sat in on a session where someone provided four such beers. It was amazing the variations we found in aroma and taste among the hops4.
Well, they’ve done ten of those beers. Someone thought it might be a good idea to toss all ten of those hops into one beer. Someone else might think this would never work, not I. The resulting beer is all flower5 on the nose and has a really complex taste that goes beyond bitterness. Sure, it’s bitter, but not too bitter. You catch one hop upon first taste and another as it goes down your throat. It even becomes more convoluted as it warms. Really, it’s a beautiful beer wrapped neatly inside a gimmick.
We then moved to a bigger, badder version of a Mikkeller DIPA. The 1000 IBU is becoming a favorite of mine, an expensive favorite6, but a favorite nonetheless. Considering that the average Joe can taste 100, maybe 120 IBU’s7, one would think a beer ten times the IBU’s would be virtually undrinkable. When I first thought of 1000 IBU’s, I thought of this:
That didn’t happen. Thankfully.
No, instead, what this beer revealed is unbelievable balance and subtlety. Don’t get me wrong; it’s a hop bomb. It’s just that it tastes so…so…well, good. An even more amazing feat than 1000 IBU’s was to make a beer at 1000 IBU’s that was delicious. The sweetness found in its malt bill is maybe more impressive than the 1000 international bitterness units.
For me, Mikkeller represents the best of hipsters8. There’s genuine ingenuity. The classics are celebrated and even enhanced without losing touch with tradition. There’s style in their packaging that is not only aesthetically pleasing but also demonstrates depth and careful planning. Once again, I don’t know that Mikkeller makes the best beer, but I know that they make some of the most interesting brews. The two beers above suggest they make interesting and great beers.
And since I’m on a positive hipster beer kick9, you should check out one of my favorite reviews from Hot Knives collection of great beer reviews in zine form. They give Mikkeller’s Black Hole Stout the proper treatment. I don’t think I’ve posted anything about these bros before. Let’s just say they are the equivalent of Mikkeller in beer blog form. They’re a little punk and DIY. They’ve got that hipster10 thing going. Oh, and they know good beer. So, once again, while I’m on a pro-hipster, beer roll, you should shoot over to Hot Knives for some real beer writing.
Notes:
1Actually, I’ll tell you just enough. You can check out their story here. Be sure to click on the American flag.
2Of course, that’s what footnotes are for.
3Yes. There is a beer made with weasel poop. Well, actually, it’s a coffee stout made with coffee that comes from weasel poop.
4My favorite is the Simcoe variation with its grapefruit aroma and flavor. I’m anxiously awaiting the Citri version.
5My drinking buddy for the evening actually said, “This beer smells like a flower.”
6Thirteen bucks for a bottle that measures just over twelve ounces. Luckily, this town is about out of these beers.
7“IBU” stands for “international bitterness units”. It’s a measurement of bitterness in beer based on the amount and types of hops you use to brew a beer. Beers described as “hoppy” typically range between 60 and 80 IBU’s. Really big, bitter hop bombs begin to approach 100. To give you perspective, Budweiser has around 11.
8Before you jump all over me for bashing hipsters or even just bringing them up, I think I will demonstrate a positive view of hipsterdom which benefits us all. Usually, hipsters make great music, but in this case they make great beer.
9See. There’s nothing wrong with critiquing hipsters if you’re also willing to praise them.
10That was a bonus “hipster” there.
Beer and Pavement 
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