[originally posted on tumblr]
Today was kind of a shitty day. It's not normally my way to gripe about a shitty day, since we all have shitty days, and no one wants to read about someone else's shitty day, as a general principle. But this is going somewhere. Feel free to skip down to the seventh paragraph, if you'd like to come straight to the point.
Today i worked my ass off to finish a project that should've been done a week ago, or by Wednesday at least, and i still struggled with it because i massively underestimated the amount of work there was to be done, and also, because my computer was constantly crashing. On top of that, i've been sick since Tuesday (though i only just admitted it yesterday, when i interrupted my rhythm at work to go down to Walgreen's for DayQuil and orange juice, and proceeded to hit that DayQuil as hard as is legally acceptable), so my concentration hasn't been what it should be. After the project was finally finished, i barely had time to shovel in some food and speed downtown to get to the show on time, the show i've had on my calendar for two months now and was giddy like Geddy Lee to see.
It's a good thing i checked Facebook before i left the office, because the venue had changed. I'd have been pretty upset if i'd found that out after going to the wrong place, especially since, for either venue, getting there involves traversing the University of Wisconsin campus on a Friday night, where the streets are rife with drunken college students who don't know the difference between a "DON'T WALK" sign and a neon PBR, teasing them from just across this open expanse of perfectly safe four lane blacktop that has no business being between a drunken college student and a PBR. Note: sarcasm. Just thought i'd point that out there.
I got to the Memorial Union at 9:05, or 5 minutes after the show was to begin. I didn't know the order of the bands so i was freaking out that i'd missed something important. I didn't have any change to feed the meter, but there was still 5 minutes on it, so i figured i'd go inside and buy a soda quick so i could get some quarters, and find out the status of the bands. It took a little longer than expected, and the first band sounded like hipsters (they were just soundchecking, too; turns out the show was at 9:30), and by the time i walked out of the building at 9:17 (i know the exact time because i texted someone as i was walking out the door), there was already a $30 parking ticket on my vehicle. I'm so glad the UW Campus Police are so adamant about patrolling meters less than an hour before they stop being enforced. Seriously, in that seven minute window...goddammit. I'll probably mail a sarcastic letter with my payment.
I felt creepy and old hanging around Der Rathskeller with all the college students who appeared too young for their beverages, and i was thoroughly uninspired by the look of the bands and most of the people around...hipsters are a funny concept, on the internet. In the wild, herds of them are a weird and uncomfortable sight to behold. So i went for a walk down State Street and sent some random texts to amuse myself. It turns out it wasn't that amusing. I went back to the venue, the first band was well into their set, and i walked up front and tried to give the impression i was enjoying myself, but if the band doesn't even look like they're enjoying themselves, why should i give a shit?
The second band was almost unbearable, just a bunch of hipster wanking and self-important "we're so deep" bullshit. Actually, that may be an unfair assessment, i couldn't understand the lyrics, but i could understand the fans that were walking by my table just outside Der Rathskeller, where i sat reading The Onion. The bottom line is, their music was boring. BORING. I was feeling shittier and shittier about my parking ticket, and thought about leaving out of disgust. It's a good thing the show itself was free.
And finally, and this is the important part, i was re-educated in the most important lesson i learned in middle school: good music will have a profound emotional impact on you. Always. When Screaming Females, the band i'd put up with all that bullshit to see, finally took the stage, i instantly - instantly! No joke! - forgot about every single shitty aspect of the previous 24 hours and about how stuffed my head felt and all the coughing and sneezing. It all just went away. What followed was forty-one minutes of the purest form of bliss.
I love CDs. I love recorded music because i can listen to it whenever i need it and it'll do more extensive things to your mind and consciousness than any illicit substance could ever hope to. But live music is approximately infinity times more potent. When that first song ripped through me, about six rows back (can't stand in front, i'm a bootlegger for life and i don't want my shit getting distorted), there was a feeling that came over me that i don't often get even seeing other bands that i love. Maybe the music of Screaming Females is drugs. I don't know. All i know is that, unlike either of their tourmates, you can feel every bit of soul and passion that they have in each and every single note.
On a more technical level, i'm convinced that Marissa Paternoster is the greatest guitarist since Carrie Brownstein. See, i may not have ever said this out loud before, but in general, i hate guitar solos. Hate them. It's cool when a band does one every once in a while, but after a few it becomes just so much wanking (then again, i've said constantly that i think the most important part of a song is lyrics, but that's a tangent for another time - or never). Screaming Females, i've decided after seeing them live, are absolutely the exception. Well, the second exception - i'll make a lot of concessions for Rush. But when you see (if you can see - Marissa's pretty short, and from six rows back...), or hear, Marissa Paternoster launch into a guitar solo, and you will hear it often, you feel that something special has happened, that you're actually lucky to be in the presence of the master. If i were talking about literally any other guitarist, i would feel dirty just saying something like that. Maybe i just feel this way because i've never seen a guitarist with such skill act so humble on stage. And i appreciate that.
They didn't come back for an encore, even though everyone was yelling. And they didn't come out to talk to anyone afterward, either, which was really disappointing. And often, if a band acts like that, it sullies my opinion of them. But in this particular case, the music itself speaks louder than anything the band could have done. It's not like they were actively douchey (even though they're from New Jersey), they just weren't very interactive. Maybe they're socially awkward. I can relate to that.
So here's my one-sentence review: If you have a musical bucket list, a list of bands to see before you die, put Screaming Females on it; do it now.
In summary, forget everything i said about my stupid life. What's important is that everyone find a band that does this to you, on an emotional level, and tap into that well as often as you possibly fucking can. Music is important, and if we are going to have underground and local scenes, we need to support them, and support them hard.
Today was kind of a shitty day. It's not normally my way to gripe about a shitty day, since we all have shitty days, and no one wants to read about someone else's shitty day, as a general principle. But this is going somewhere. Feel free to skip down to the seventh paragraph, if you'd like to come straight to the point.
Today i worked my ass off to finish a project that should've been done a week ago, or by Wednesday at least, and i still struggled with it because i massively underestimated the amount of work there was to be done, and also, because my computer was constantly crashing. On top of that, i've been sick since Tuesday (though i only just admitted it yesterday, when i interrupted my rhythm at work to go down to Walgreen's for DayQuil and orange juice, and proceeded to hit that DayQuil as hard as is legally acceptable), so my concentration hasn't been what it should be. After the project was finally finished, i barely had time to shovel in some food and speed downtown to get to the show on time, the show i've had on my calendar for two months now and was giddy like Geddy Lee to see.
It's a good thing i checked Facebook before i left the office, because the venue had changed. I'd have been pretty upset if i'd found that out after going to the wrong place, especially since, for either venue, getting there involves traversing the University of Wisconsin campus on a Friday night, where the streets are rife with drunken college students who don't know the difference between a "DON'T WALK" sign and a neon PBR, teasing them from just across this open expanse of perfectly safe four lane blacktop that has no business being between a drunken college student and a PBR. Note: sarcasm. Just thought i'd point that out there.
I got to the Memorial Union at 9:05, or 5 minutes after the show was to begin. I didn't know the order of the bands so i was freaking out that i'd missed something important. I didn't have any change to feed the meter, but there was still 5 minutes on it, so i figured i'd go inside and buy a soda quick so i could get some quarters, and find out the status of the bands. It took a little longer than expected, and the first band sounded like hipsters (they were just soundchecking, too; turns out the show was at 9:30), and by the time i walked out of the building at 9:17 (i know the exact time because i texted someone as i was walking out the door), there was already a $30 parking ticket on my vehicle. I'm so glad the UW Campus Police are so adamant about patrolling meters less than an hour before they stop being enforced. Seriously, in that seven minute window...goddammit. I'll probably mail a sarcastic letter with my payment.
I felt creepy and old hanging around Der Rathskeller with all the college students who appeared too young for their beverages, and i was thoroughly uninspired by the look of the bands and most of the people around...hipsters are a funny concept, on the internet. In the wild, herds of them are a weird and uncomfortable sight to behold. So i went for a walk down State Street and sent some random texts to amuse myself. It turns out it wasn't that amusing. I went back to the venue, the first band was well into their set, and i walked up front and tried to give the impression i was enjoying myself, but if the band doesn't even look like they're enjoying themselves, why should i give a shit?
The second band was almost unbearable, just a bunch of hipster wanking and self-important "we're so deep" bullshit. Actually, that may be an unfair assessment, i couldn't understand the lyrics, but i could understand the fans that were walking by my table just outside Der Rathskeller, where i sat reading The Onion. The bottom line is, their music was boring. BORING. I was feeling shittier and shittier about my parking ticket, and thought about leaving out of disgust. It's a good thing the show itself was free.
And finally, and this is the important part, i was re-educated in the most important lesson i learned in middle school: good music will have a profound emotional impact on you. Always. When Screaming Females, the band i'd put up with all that bullshit to see, finally took the stage, i instantly - instantly! No joke! - forgot about every single shitty aspect of the previous 24 hours and about how stuffed my head felt and all the coughing and sneezing. It all just went away. What followed was forty-one minutes of the purest form of bliss.
I love CDs. I love recorded music because i can listen to it whenever i need it and it'll do more extensive things to your mind and consciousness than any illicit substance could ever hope to. But live music is approximately infinity times more potent. When that first song ripped through me, about six rows back (can't stand in front, i'm a bootlegger for life and i don't want my shit getting distorted), there was a feeling that came over me that i don't often get even seeing other bands that i love. Maybe the music of Screaming Females is drugs. I don't know. All i know is that, unlike either of their tourmates, you can feel every bit of soul and passion that they have in each and every single note.
On a more technical level, i'm convinced that Marissa Paternoster is the greatest guitarist since Carrie Brownstein. See, i may not have ever said this out loud before, but in general, i hate guitar solos. Hate them. It's cool when a band does one every once in a while, but after a few it becomes just so much wanking (then again, i've said constantly that i think the most important part of a song is lyrics, but that's a tangent for another time - or never). Screaming Females, i've decided after seeing them live, are absolutely the exception. Well, the second exception - i'll make a lot of concessions for Rush. But when you see (if you can see - Marissa's pretty short, and from six rows back...), or hear, Marissa Paternoster launch into a guitar solo, and you will hear it often, you feel that something special has happened, that you're actually lucky to be in the presence of the master. If i were talking about literally any other guitarist, i would feel dirty just saying something like that. Maybe i just feel this way because i've never seen a guitarist with such skill act so humble on stage. And i appreciate that.
They didn't come back for an encore, even though everyone was yelling. And they didn't come out to talk to anyone afterward, either, which was really disappointing. And often, if a band acts like that, it sullies my opinion of them. But in this particular case, the music itself speaks louder than anything the band could have done. It's not like they were actively douchey (even though they're from New Jersey), they just weren't very interactive. Maybe they're socially awkward. I can relate to that.
So here's my one-sentence review: If you have a musical bucket list, a list of bands to see before you die, put Screaming Females on it; do it now.
In summary, forget everything i said about my stupid life. What's important is that everyone find a band that does this to you, on an emotional level, and tap into that well as often as you possibly fucking can. Music is important, and if we are going to have underground and local scenes, we need to support them, and support them hard.
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