Recently in Gig Category

As anyone who reads the Daily Links will know, I'm a huge fan of The Daily Show and its host Jon Stewart (and have been for many years, even back when its host was Craig Kilborn)- it's certainly the best thing on TV at the moment (yes: even better than Lost). Which why I was very pleasantly suprised when my sometimes extremely lovely/othertimes extremely hostile flatmate just showed up and gave me a Loge (ie-awesome+v.hard to get) ticket to the show! I was very excited, and based on the enormous queue outside the theatre, pretty lucky to get tickets at all.

The show opened with excerpts from The Daily Show's take on the London bombings, which I'd not only seen before, but also posted in the daily links at the time- so not much new for me there. Then Jon came out and chatted for a bit, and said he was going to read some excerpts from his book America: A Guide to Democracy Inaction, which I guess this was pretty much a promotion for (the background was just an enormous projection of the book). Unfortunately, I'd read the book in like April, so while it was something of a treat to have Jon Stewart read it to me (it's also always nice to be in a laughing crowd), I'd heard all the jokes before. He also invited out the producer and head writer of the Daily Show to read with him.

It seemed like the three or them were having fun up on stage, which is always a good way for the crowd to have fun- it's a nice energy between performer and observer. But I did feel that they could have done more than just read verbatim from the book. I mean, the guy is a trained actor and stand-up comedian, surely he could have learned the lines as a routine and performed them? I guess it felt lazy. I've since heard that it's not uncommon in America to just have 'audiences' with famous people, like, they just show up and that's the show. But c'mon, Neil Gaiman does that for free- why should I pay to listen to someone's book promotion? I guess I expected a little more, uhm, effort?

Interesting side note: Woody Harrelson also jumped up from the crowd and joined in with the reading at one point, which was quite neat. He was obviously having a ball, as well.

After that they opened the floor up to questions, which was initially extremely funny and Jon was obviously having a good time chatting to folks (the audience seemed to be comprised overwhelmingly of Americans, interestingly). But then something happened, it's hard to pin down, but the best way I can describe it is that Jon...lost his patience? Like he was suddenly very tired or something, and there was a series of particularly inane questions. He put his head in his hands, and from that point on just gave people very short, sharp answers that actually sounded quite irritated (or at least very tired) and then cut the questions off and ended the show. It was kind of disconcerting and a little disappointing. Again, perhaps after having seen so many plays and concerts that consist of people trying their very hardest to entertain the audience have just spoiled me, raised my expectations to such a degree that I was simply unaccustomed to this kind of event- expectation being the death of happiness and all. But then, the guy is an entertainer, and the nature of that profession should make one very wary about becoming complacent.

I should clarify that I still like Jon Stewart a great deal. An enormous amount, in fact. TDS is still my favourite show. But I like him a little less than I did when I went in, which is not a good impression for a live show to impart.

I've long held the theory, mainly generated from my experiences watching live gigs in small venues, that it's nearly impossible to hear what a live band is supposed to sound like if you haven't spent some time listening to their studio recordings- and I held this belief simultaneously, without contradiction, with the opinion that live performance is the most powerful way to experience music.

I think of it in this way: Let's say you're standing in a noisy, crowded room and your friend is talking to you. You focus on your friend and the rest of the noise is filtered out by your brain, and you only hear what your friend is saying. But if you actively listen to the noise of the entire room, it's one of the oddest and most claustrophobic noises that can be heard. Now, live gigs are very noisy, and despite the best efforts of sound engineers, most of that noise is not precisely what the band wants you to hear. But you can filter out what they don't want you to hear, provided you know what you're supposed to be listening to. I've had numerous experiences where I've listened to a live band for the first time and heard nothing but chaos, but after listening to their songs in a closed environment, they've been vastly improved in subsequent live listenings, because I can filter out all that stuff that I know is not meant to be there. If you follow me.

Which is why I was somewhat suprised that I enjoyed Kaiser Chiefs so much, having heard so little of their music (although, oddly, I knew four of their songs- I must have absorbed these through some kind of cultural osmosis because I don't have their album and have never actively listened to any of their music). I think this was because they didn't just rely on the music alone to ensure everyone was having a good time- they actually made a show, they were really focused on entertaining you, whatever it took. For example:

• They started with a short film about London, which everyone loved. It showed grainy, 60's-era footage of London, while a voice-over intoned things like: "London, where the Queen and her government make the decisions that control your lives. Don't worry, Londoners, you don't need to make decisions for yourselves, your lives are in good hands. Meanwhile, the Kaiser Chiefs stand outside Buckingham Palace playing their hit song 'I Predict a Riot'."
• Then they opened with "Money for Nothing", you know the huge build-up of 'I Want My MTVeeeee' intro, which drove everyone crazy. I thought this was pretty indicative of their desire to make sure the crowd was having a good time- I mean sure, they could have opened with one of their own songs, but they knew nothing could make a crowd more amped up than Dire Straights. That's right.
• At one point the lead borrowed a leaf from the book of the world's greatest showman and got a girl out of the audience to ballroom dance with her for the slow romantic song.
• Most awesome of all, the lead singer snuck around to the back of the audience and then crowd surfed (whilst singing) all the way to the front of the audience. I thought this was pretty ballsy of him, given that the people at the back of an audience don't always like the band playing, and aren't always amenable to crowd surfers.

The overall tone of the band was that they were headlining their first tour and were obviously off their chops about playing to such a large audience, they were clearly loving every minute of it and having a ball, which was really infectious. The crowd was nuts, we were flying all over the place. Great stuff.

Maxïmo Park were pretty reliable, but didn't spring out at me as being incredibly awesome*. I guess I just have to wonder about bands who wear ties up onstage. You're leaping around, it's hot as hell under the lights, a tie must be a nightmare. What kind of impression is so important that you'd put up with being so damned uncomfortable in order to convey it? I guess that you're the sort of band that would put up with discomfort in order to convey an impression. But what impression are you trying to convey? That you're the sort of band that would be all hot and sweaty in order to deliver a specific impression. But what kind of impression......oh, I could do this all night.

Every now and then, without warning or expectation, life just deals you an ace card.

Wandering through the lobby of my work, looking forward to little more than cooking up a curry and settling in to watch Star Trek and The OC. A quiet Tuesday night. Turning on my phone, you have one new message...

"Daan, duude, get back in touch with me, it's Kathy, your mad friend buddy! Uhm I've got tickets, I've got one free ticket to Nine Inch Nails, so please call back soon cause I wanna get there by eight. Okay, cheers. Love you to come. Bye."

My first thought was: Nine Inch Nails. Allll right.
My second thought was: Who's Kathy?
My third thought was: Holy shit! I'm going to Nine Inch FUCKING NAILS!
My fourth thought was: I really should establish who this Kathy person is.

Check my phone's contacts list. I got a Kath, a Kathleen, a Katy, a Katie. I don't know who any of them are. These numbers just accumulate into my phone on weekends. It must be some kind of wierd bluetooth malfunction. The number harvester. None of the numbers match the number that called, so I just hit return call and, y'know, someone answers. I obviously can't say I don't know who she is, so I just sort of nonchalantly agree to the tickets and find out where she lives, which isn't far from my place.

Cathy, as it turns out, is a very cool Hamiltronian girl who I occasionally run into at gigs. She's high-energy so we are both big dancers and get along well. Not only does she have two FREE tickets to NIN, they're tickets to the after-party, as well! Sha-weet! My actual plan for going to NIN had been roughly along the lines to wander around outside the Academy next Wednesday with £50 in my back pocket, hoping to meet a desperate scalper. This was much better. Funny how your whole evening can completely change tack in one minute.

After a quick bite at Brixton Nandos (the worst of all the Nandos), we managed to catch the second half (did you know that if you have a backstage pass, they have a special little entrance next to the stage you can come out of, so you don't need to fight your way through the crowd to get to the front?) of the support act, Saul Williams, who was really good. The crowd [which was pretty much 90% goth. There were some great looking goth-chicks there. I say this a lot, and I'm not saying I want to be a cross-dresser, but girls really do get a much wider range of things to wear than men do. Pretty much all the girls looked liked they'd put a lot of effort into their outfit, while the guys were just like, in black jeans and NIN T-shirts. I was (having come straight from work) in a suit, so looked slightly incongruous] loved him, which he really seemed to appreciate. He kept saying things like: "Wow, they told me to expect the worst, but you guys are great. [roar] Much better than last night's audience? [roar!] Y'all like hip-hop? [roaar!] Wow." He was constantly chatting away. I didn't manage to pick up his album after the show, but I will look out for it on play.com as a result of his set, I was very impressed.

You know,

One of the recurring arguments that occasionally pops up between me and my friends is: "Is Bono a wanker?"

I think the answer, as much as it pains me (and, probably, you) to say, is probably yes. I mean, the last time I saw U2 live, thirteen years ago (!), was the ZOOTV tour, which I found to be a much more 'structured' show than the Vertigo tour (and also a more 'polished' show, although I was much more in thrall with U2 back then, so my 14-year old self may not be a reliable witness, your honour). It seemed to have a continuous theme that ran throughout the show. Halfway through the show, Bono became 'Mephisto', a sort of over-the-top parody of rock `n roll arrogance. This time round, Bono didn't put on any makeup, but his character was barely distinguishable from yesteryear's satire. It's possible that some of his over-the-top persona was intentionally ironic, but unfortunately not enough for him to avoid the wanker appellation.

But that's okay, we forgive Bono his sins, because it's U2, and U2, after all these years, still rock. And rock they did, very much so.

I guess there's two schools of thought on the whole 'opening band' thing. The first is that you want to give the audience the chance to hear an act they wouldn't normally be exposed to, to give a smaller band the chance to hit the big time. Certainly Marilyn Manson would not be the name he is if Nine Inch Nails hadn't invited them to tour with them and open their shows (curse them! [shakes fist]). The second theory is that you want the most bang for thier buck, so you book other big acts to play their greatest hits back-catalog. U2 definitely went for the latter option with a pretty impressive opening lineup of Ash & Idlewild. I totally missed Idlewild, which sucks as 'American English' is one of my favourite songs and I would have loved to have seen it live. However I did catch Ash's set and was suprised how, even though I've never owned an Ash album or sat down to listen to an Ash song, I somehow knew all the words to every song they played. It was a very solid set which I really enjoyed, along with the atmosphere that comes with being in such a huge venue. [Er, which was Twickenham, btw, an open-topped Rugby Stadium)

Then the boys themselves, opening, as you'd expect, with a barnstorming rendition of 'Vertigo' (which, oddly, they closed with, as well, which I thought was an odd decision. I guess it's the first song they've written in a while that out-and-out fucking rocks, and they want to get all the mileage they can out of it), which led neatly into 'Electric Co', which was great. Y'know, it's odd that, when they almost broke up after Rattle & Hum, it was because some of the band felt like they were becoming 'The U2 Greatest Hits Machine'. Because really, they definitely broke out every great U2 song that you'd expect to hear at a live show, y'know? All the classics were all lined up, they definitely didn't hold back on the old favourites.

The concert started to fall apart a little, as they do, about halfway through, when Bono started banging on about Africa and G8 and Bob Geldof. Like, don't get me wrong, that's part and parcel of the Bono package and I wouldn't have it any other way, but I thought he was pushing it a little too far when, at the crescendo of 'One', he told the entire audience to get out thier phones and text 80205, and then suddenly on the monitors there were these gigantic instructions to text 80205, but not really any detail as to why, or what you were getting yourself into. I found it all a bit creepily Hitler-rally-esque and it kind of took me out of the mood of the show for a bit, like: "Hmm, I thought I was, like, paying him money to, y'know, sing `n stuff, now he's like, giving me orders."

However, he did make an amusing verbal gaffe when he was ranting on about the Declaration of Human Rights, he says, this is quite funny, he goes:

"..cause you know, the American dream, it's not just an American dream, it's a Human dream....and an Asian dream...."

Other higlights were 'Running to Stand Still', which practically had me crying in the aisles, 'Zoo Station', oh, and 'City of Blinding Lights' was good, too- that's when the big light-wall activated for the first time and freaked me out with its coolness.

So: great night (although the three-hour trip home was a bitch. Let me tell you: when 75,000 people all try and board the same train at once, it ain't pretty. It was like War of the frickin' Worlds) Check out some of my super-far-away photos here. If you watch them in slideshow mode while listening to Rattle & Hum, it's just like being there!

Yes, it's true, I did see the greatest rock n' roll band in the world this weekend. U2? Hell, no: DIE! DIE! DIE!

The Spreadeagle in Shoreditch is a funny old venue for live bands. It's basically a tiny wee pub with a drum riser. The bands weren't so much playing in front of the audience as in and around the audience (which was packed into every nook & cranny). First up was the always-excellent Grande Cobra, who only had one mike, half a PA, and no-one at the sound desk, but with punk-rock energy and enthusiasm they still cranked out an awesome performance.

I'm sorry, did you say energy and enthusiasm? Cause when I hear that, I now say: "Die! Die! Die!" (I really love saying that. In sort of the Nick-Cage-killing-John-Travolta-at-the-end-of-Face-Off kind of way) I don't think I've ever seen so much live energy coming off a band.

The drummer smashed two sticks. The bass player pole-danced and then used the pole to play his bass (appropriately, the Spreadeagle really did use to be a strip-club). The lead singer had this insane move in which he spun round in a circle really fast, then twisted his head and held out his arm so that his guitar came flying off his body and launched itself across the pub (thanks to the power of centrifugal force! It broke, so he just picked up another)- then he'd grab the mike, leap into the crowd, and get back to the band by crawling across the bar. The crowd ate it up- the bar staff didn't seem so impressed.

Anyway, great, great stuff- I had a grin on my face the entire time. They're playing three more London venues before they head back to NZ so go and see them you good cunts!

"Hey bro, I need your help with something."

"Yeah, sure thing, what's up?"

"I'm ah, I'm going to see U2 live in concert on Sunday and I'm ... It's tough to say this ... but I'm ... not very excited about it."

"What?"

"Yeah, just, like, I'm completely nonplussed. Wait, does that mean, like, what does nonplussed mean?"

"Dazed and confused."

"Oh. Then I'm not nonplussed. I'm plussed. I'm just ... nothing. I'm unexcited."

"Detached."

"Yes, detached, just like that. I need your help."

"I can't believe this. Let's have a check-it-out. What was the first album you ever owned?"

"RTR Countdown's Hot Hits `89."

"Oh. I mean: What was the first album you ever bought?"

"The Yeshua Tree."

"What?"

"Just kidding. The Joshua Tree."

"And what was the first song that ever made you cry?"

"Running to Stand Still."

"And what was the last song that made you cry?"

"Original of the Species."

"And what's the only song that ever made you cry at a concert?"

"Bad."

"And what song did you use as the soundtrack for your first short film, and at the time thought it to be the best song ever written?"

"In God's Country."

"And what was the first song you wrote the sheet music from by ear?"

"The First Time."

"And what was the only song you could sing to Felix that would quiet him down when he was three weeks old?"

"In a Little While."

"And why did that quiet him down?"

"Because he's Oirish."

"And what's the best unrequited lovesong in the world?"

"All I want is you."

"And what's the best SONG in the world?"

"One!"

"And who's the best band in the world?!?"

"U2!"

"And what are you gonna do right now?!?"

"Go and dance to Vertigo at full volume!"

"That's right! Now show me the money!"

"Show you the money!"

"Not show you the money, show me the money!"

"Show me the money!"

"I can't hear you!"

"SHOW ME THE MONEY!"

"Do you love the black man?"

"I love black people!"

"Turn it up there, Captain."

I don't mean to bag to my favourite songstress, but her albums have been going downhill a bit recently. I think what happened was...her songs stopped being about anything. They always were a bit stream of conciousness, but post-Pele this tendency became exaggerated to the point that you couldn't actually pin down any one song and figure out decisively what it was alluding to beyond gigantic zebras and purple people. The songs lost focus and all started to blur into one big mess.

After the travesty that was Strange Little Girls, I didn't even bother picking up her last two studio albums (although I did have an interesting conversation with a friend a few weeks ago who said that she was in some kind of contract she didn't want to be in, and was just pumping out albums to get out of the contract, and that her latest album was the first album she was releasing outside the contract, and was much better as a result). Then, after I got back from Ammy-Dammy, my sister e-mailed and told me not to forget I was going to see Tori live in concert with her on Friday- it was news to me! Because of my recent ambivalence towards Tori's music, I can't say I showed up to the concert with that much enthusiasm.

That changed rapidly once the show started. God, what an amazing artist. Amazing voice, amazing talent on a piano (my favourite instrument), and an amazing presence on stage. I've seen her live twice before (once at the Apollo and once on the corner of Hollywood & Vine), but this was the first time I'd seen her without a backing band, and boy, what a difference it makes when it's just her and four keyboards. You'd think it would somehow be less energetic and less capable to lifting you up, but, somehow, she manages to sustain an energy that's all the more impressive for its isolation. I can't think of a time I've been more impressed by an artist than I was when she was playing a piano with her left hand, a harpsichord with her right, and straddling the two instruments in a bizarre contorqure, singing all the while- as my sister remarked, her voice is so powerful, it is an instrument unto itself.

There was a really good mix of old and new, and I have to say I had a good cry when she played 'Cloud on my Tongue', it was just so damned beautifully done. I was also really impressed by some of her new stuff, so much so that I'll be wandering down to HMV today to pick up the new album. I'll let you know if it's a return to form- her live show certainly was.

Er, God, I can only pick one? The pressure, the pressure!!!

Right, well, a song I really haven't been able to get enough of recently is ah, hey, 'Drop the Pressure' by Mylo. This is all Ross' fault, having turned it into the skiing anthem (song you hear in your head when you're skiing) earlier this year. So whirl this one on the dancefloor and I'll start grooving to the left and to the right, slalom-style.

If you don't know what I'm talking about click here.