Kishi Bashi

Kishi Bashi
The Mohawk
May 9, 2014
Setlist

One of my top 2012 albums was Kishi's Bashi, 151A and I saw him for the first time in 2013 as part of that tour. K Ishibashi is a musician who plays and records under the name Kishi Bashi. I'm not quite sure how to categorize his music. Wiki tells me it's:  indie pop, indie rock, psychedelic pop, electronic, and experimental. That sounds about right.

K just recently released his second full-length album, Lighght, which is pronounced as if it only had one -gh.  As you can see, he is having fun with its related tour.

Spoon

Spoon

Hotel Vegas

May 6, 2014

Setlist

The setlist: I love how they put the details on it because they know they'll be given away. A nice gesture for the fans.

Ah, the elusive secret show.  Truth be told, I had no idea what a secret show was until I moved to Austin.  Secret shows are especially the rage during ACL and SXSW as we all wait anxiously to hear which will be confirmed. Some secret show rumors are quickly quelled and others persist, even into the next year.  (We are still speculating when Daft Punk is going to play their secret show on the Capitol steps.)  They also become somewhat of a myth and sometimes it's hard to remember exactly what happened.  Right now, I'm trying to remember if Kanye really played an ACL secret show at the old Seaholm Power Plant or if that joins the stuff of lore, like unicorns and Cerberus.  Sometimes, the memories are as elusive as the shows themselves.

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Every once in a while, a secret show unattached to a festival pops up.  This time, Spoon played a secret show at Hotel Vegas--the first show they've played in about two years. It's in advance of their eighth album, which will be released later this year. I have researched release date, album title, and new singles and found nothing. My Magic 8 Ball is only repeatedly telling me, "Hazy. Try Again." Here we are again with the elusiveness. 

The secret show ended up not being so secret as Spoon posted it on social media.  But, hey.  I'm not going to criticize an effort to get more fans there.  That may perhaps be easy for me to say because I got in, but I also didn't get into the Beck Austin City Limits taping after waiting for over three hours in serious heat.  One rule of music is that "you win some and you lose some" so just get out there and keep trying because with persistence you'll get your unique experience.

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Hotel Vegas only let in approximately 175 people.  It was the kind of intimate, enthusiastic setting that music lovers dream about.  

Hello, fellow music lovers. You're fun. And I mean that.

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My good friend, Erica, and I have many conversations about life, especially as it relates to creativity and goals.  We also share a love of community and are equally excited to find ourselves at the point of collaborating and knowing others who share similar passions.  We call it finding our tribe.  

I expected to go see Spoon alone.  However, I remembered that a new friend is a huge Spoon fan and invited him; he and his girlfriend enthusiastically joined me.  I give you this analogy:

my friend : Spoon :: me : The National

What was it like to have both the company and to experience Spoon vicariously through one of their biggest fans? Well, it was just plain awesome.  I also noticed several familiar faces from other shows and connected with two women who I know through social media.  Never underestimate going to shows alone or putting yourself out their and introducing yourself to strangers. You might just find your tribe in unexpected places at unexpected times.

Photo Credit: Do512.com  ||  Find me in this picture.

The National, Part II

The National
Moody Theater, ACL Live
April 21 and 23, 2014
Setlist

It wasn't until this past year that I started joining the music lovers who hang back after a show, trying to get the setlist or other memento from those bands whose words and songs we cling to.  We're a slightly rabid lot, honestly, though subtly so.  I've also met some of the kindest, funniest, most passionate people while lingering. Music brings people together.

Setlists never seemed important to me until I started wondering what story the bands wanted to tell that night.  I'm sure that song selection is often arbitrary and largely designed to woo and ignite the crowd in a particular way. To leave us believing that we just had the best night ever and need to tell our friends to buy the albums.  But I'm not that entirely jaded.  I think there is more to a show and musicians and that music always comes back to story.  And now, in addition to the experience, I turn to the setlist to better know it.

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On nights one and two of their three-night stop in Austin, The National opened with "Sea of Love" and "Don't Swallow the Cap", respectively, which are both high-energy, fast-tempo songs that can rally a crowd into moving and singing.  On night three, they opened with a song that I didn't expect:  "Start a War" off Boxer.  It's a slower song with no particular lyric meant for shouting or starting the night with intensity--as might happen with  "Graceless" or "Squalor Victoria".  

But, in retrospect, this was the best song to prologue the story that I heard that night.  I emphasize that this is the story that I heard. If you were there, perhaps you heard a different one.  Perhaps you didn't hear one and just enjoyed the music. But that's another aspect of what I love about music:  you experience it and feel it uniquely, as you need and want to at this time. So, take from it as you will.  This is the story I heard.

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We expected something, something better than before/
We expected something more

-Start a War, The National

For me, everything is a love story.  Not necessarily romantic love.  I live entirely from the heart (wishing I lived more from the head). In the relatively short time I've lived this life (short since I'm aspiring to live to at least 100), I've learned that ultimately, it's love that defines and matters the most.  And, so all of our stories--for better and for worse-- somehow grow from and return to it.

Love stories. Not Hollywood romantic-comedy style. Hollywood gives us an expectation of love that doesn't mesh well with the reality.  There is no perfect love story.  We know this (and by this point, dear reader, you have probably lived enough to know this) but it's still hard not to enter our next relationship expecting something, something better than before.  That this time, the one we love won't have a quirk, a flaw or twenty, or a physical trait our ideal doesn't.  That this time, you won't have some sort of struggle together: financial, emotional, health. But they do. You do. We always do.  

Do you really think you can just put it in a safe, behind a painting, lock it up and leave?

Yet, at some point--with the right (imperfect) person and in the right (imperfect) time--you both decide not to walk away even though you could.  It's comfortable and less vulnerable to keep all the emotions locked up in a safe. Plus, you can hide them behind a painting that you have artfully created to represent the parts and design that you want to show.  But, if you do and if you leave, then you lose the love. 

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All the very best of us string ourselves up for love.
- Vanderlyle Crybaby Geeks, The National

During their recent tours, The National close with an acoustic version of "Vanderlyle Crybaby Geeks".  I think part of this is because, at the end of the day, we all want to sing along with people who are--at least for the moment--living the same life.  It's emotional, it's meaningful. And, The National simply gives us that shared moment to take with us.

But, I also think it's the end of the story that I heard that night.

The lyric above is one of my favorites in terms of defining relationships. Dark and pessimistic, right? Not really.  Part of loving someone is willingly hanging your real self up for them to see--fully exposed--and trusting that they won't cut you down.  And this is hard and vulnerable and, if you've ever been cut down before, seemingly impossible to do.

However, you can't love someone if who you are and what you feel is in the safe  So, whereas that lyric initially sounds dark and depressing, if you think about it, it's a comforting thought to know that all of us flawed, imperfect jokers can be loved for who we are and what we feel--by other right (imperfect) people in the right (imperfect) times.  And that's how tonight's story ends. Journeying to that point where the cost of sacrifice doesn't matter for the benefit of love.

Finally, that's why I think it's also perfect to end the night with an acoustic song.  Singing along to a song stripped bare of studio enhancements and audio engineering.  It's a send-off, the musical bon voyage, to strip ourselves bare, be who we are.  Love people who are ultimately just like us. 

Swans are a-swimming. We'll explain everything to the geeks.

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The National, Part I

The National
Moody Theater, ACL Live
April 21 and 23, 2014
Setlist

"For so long...we would go on tour and no one would be coming. It was so humiliating for us. And that happened a lot though. And I remember the first time we played at Mercury Lounge and there was nobody there. After that show, I went straight home and closed the door, and I think I just started crying. 

And I think when we started putting that tension and anxiety and fear and humiliation into the music, just putting it out there, it made us closer to each other. And, for the people that did come to the shows, that was the connection." 

- Matt Berninger, Mistaken for Strangers (film)

credit: Justin Warren

From where I type, I spy: my guitar propped in the corner, a keyboard with one songbook about to topple from the stand, 2 more songbooks stacked on the floor, a vinyl album used as a decoration, my 2013 SXSW badge, and a jar stuffed with tickets from the past years' shows. To say I've collected and surrounded myself with music all my life is an understatement.

But, it's not just these tangible items.  If modern science ever creates a means to project our thoughts and memories onto giant white screens, you'll see that mine are really just music videos because each of these thoughts and memories is intertwined with the music that was in that moment.  A double helix of life and song inherited from a mom who played a sunburst Gibson and a dad who would lead his kids in singing aloud The Beatles' entire Rubber Soul album.

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Around the time I realized Texas was (is) meant to be home, I started a long-term music relationship with Sufjan Stevens.  Sure, he occasionally dons birds' wings while playing a banjo but he also is ridiculously talented.  I like to pretend I also had a childhood-friend relationship with him as evidenced by the fact that the homestead on his Seven Swans album is a spitting image of the one I grew up on (so surely his family must have visited us at least once. And Mom played the Gibson and we all sang along to Rubber Soul.) But, mostly it's been about his music, with albums released at times when I needed their lyrics to define everything that was happening around me, in a lo-fi kind of way.  

A few years and 792 listens of  Sufjan's Illinois later, I heard The National's song, Guest Room, from their album Boxer.  Lyrics like, "They're gonna send us to prison for jerks" sung in Matt Berninger's distinctive baritone and Bryan Devendorf's insane drumming grabbed me in a way no other music had and The National quickly became my favorite band.  

The 2010 release of High Violet came at a time when I was feeling a lot of the tension and anxiety and fear and humiliation that Matt talks about.  Part of me fears admitting that though I still am, because I think that's what music gives many of us--and sometimes we need to hear each other admit that.  

That music, that art, really--whether painting or photography or design or even written words--gives a way for us to feel and put words and melodies to those feelings.  And even when those feelings are dark and we feel compelled to keep them inside, the songs themselves can be beautiful and meaningful. 

credit: Justin Warren

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There's a scene in the film, Mistaken for Strangers, when Bryce or Aaron (I'm very sorry, guys, for forgetting) talks about the hours (days) spent in a studio, collaborating to make a sixty-minute album.  But, we don't see those moments, or know or feel them like the musicians do.  Nevertheless, they are there, tucked in and reflected by the pauses, the codas, the lines, the chords.  

That's another aspect of music that I'm drawn to:  it's for us as individuals.  At best, for peaceful solitary moments and, at worst (though perhaps not tragically so), for painful lonely moments.  

But, it's also for us as humans who gather all of our solo moments…
…. practicing scales in childhood bedrooms (because our parents did not spend all of that money on that clarinet for nothing),  
….and listening to the same albums over and over and over (because one day we will figure out how our favorite guitarist captured that perfect sound at 1:47 on track 2.) 
…. and writing, scratching out, and rewriting lyrics in early morning hours (because the only way you can describe how he made you feel tonight is through a song).

And, after we've gathered them, we find that they're often not best kept in isolation but come to life in collaboration with others who have similar solo moments but developed other talents that add to and complement ours.

So it was with Sufjan and The National (among others.)  I haven't been able to find out how/when their collaborations started (chance meeting in Brooklyn?). But, they did.  Various members of The National have contributed to Sufjan's music and he has likewise supported them.  

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There were many highlights at The National's April 21 show:  singing "Abel" at the top of my lungs; watching Bryce play two guitars during "I Need My Girl"; hearing "Slow Show" live because…"Slow Show" live.  But, it was also the night of one of my favorite music moments ever.

That night, The National played "Ada", intimating that they rarely play it live because Sufjan played the piano part on the album and they can't play it like he can.  Well, they played it and it was particularly meaningful because of the ending:

(sorry for video quality; it's the best I can find. also, this  in chicago (appropriately) and not austin).

At 3:36, The National transitions from "Ada" to Sufjan's "Chicago".  I love this so much. For me--standing at the very front, stage-right then and typing away on my bed now--it speaks to the hours in the studio together as friends, as family, who are not just creating together but who are living dreams together.  Moments poured over every note, every loop, every lyric.  Moments of tension and anxiety and fear and humiliation that create joy and freedom and belonging in us because we hear those songs and understand and connect.

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