I wonder if performers realize that every show, every gig, every night in dimly lit bars or on collapsible starlit stages, is part of a unique memory for each and every person in attendance.
Julien Baker. Took me back twelve, thirteen years? True Love Cafe and Dan Potthast. Or was it Matt Skiba. Awkward meetups. Capitol Garage and Josh… he was, what? Six years old? Incredible. Rocky Votolato. Mid-week trip to SF with Kiel and the Chris Carrabba experience and the pineapple on my windshield and the belligerent vegan (my first).
I wrote the above several months ago, after first hearing Baker’s full-length debut, Sprained Ankle. I think what impressed me the most – or confounded me, maybe – was how a teenager in 2015 could transport me back to a time and a musical environment that existed before she started learning to write in cursive. How does a kid avoid all the negative associations with the term “emo” that erupted in the mid-aughts? How does she find a voice for her joys and sorrows and frustrations that so eerily takes me to a glimmer of a point in time that most people ignore, forget, or outright berate? Continue reading Julien Baker – Memories of Days Before Emo Was a Bad Word→
It’s been about a year since I started this blog, and I’m still not entirely sure what I’m doing here.
Is it a scrapbook collecting my live music experiences? A digital upgrade of that little ticket stub shoebox that lived in my kitchen drawer for years?
The second Noise Pop show I attended this year was Orlando’s SALES, an act I’d been following and eager to see perform since MMJ expressed her exuberance over “Chinese New Year” one Lunar Year ago. They were fantastic, and cool people to hang out with after the show. So cool in fact, it near made me forget the terrible sonic shitshows that opened the evening. Those bands made me feel old. Older. What are the kids listening to? * Continue reading New Years, New Seasons→