Battles and Other Skirmishes

I took a vacation day so that I could wake up at 5 AM on a Friday and drag trash from my garage to the front of the house. Significant piles of trash, to be fair: three mattresses, boxes of e-wasteables, and two broken bookcases among them. But still. It’s 6 AM and I’ve been up for an hour already. Great staycation, yeah?

On October 9 I was at The Fillmore for the second time in a week. The last time I had done that was… well, jeez. I can’t remember. But if I wanted to, I could peruse my stack of Fillmore posters, right? Noooo, since not every show produces a poster. The first time I realized that major disappointment was… well. Jeez. Now there’s no way I’ll figure that out, is there?

Fillmore Tragedy: Hiatus Kaiyote Melted into Onstage Puddles

I haven’t left a show, earlier than I wanted to, one single time during The Turnaround. That’s almost 40 club shows, major concerts, and outdoor festivals in the last twenty-one months that I’ve enjoyed for exactly as much as I’ve wanted to. That wasn’t always the case in the past, and I was usually pretty okay with it.

(I am now reminded of sprinting out of Rickshaw Stop early last year because MMJ suddenly remembered that her parking space had street cleaning restrictions that kicked in at midnight. But that was memorable and fun. And I never let her forget it.)

Last night at The Fillmore, however, I had Slim’s ’05 flashbacks.

Sylvan Esso: Fillmore Part Deux

It’s been a good, better, best kind of week. And it only took through Tuesday.

By the time we were standing downstage right (LDG: “Right? Where are you? That’s left!”) for Sylvan Esso’s return trip to The Fillmore, I had already reevaluated my stance on a previously despised commerce-driven holiday; rekindled a list-driven exploration of Nordic pop; and rediscovered a central coast hideaway, heretofore nothing more than a power plant curiosity, that is home to both a bevy of sea otters and a treasure trove of Shakespeare aficionados.

And then, of course, the show Tuesday night was fantastic.

Violent Femmes and Biographical Musical Milestones

One of these days, I’m going to reorganize my records.

Autobiographical.
No fucking way.

And for all my buzz-band, new-music fervor, sometimes the most meaningful live performances are the ones that help reorganize our memories.

In the present: it’s 2014, and the overworked Fillmore security staff is squeezing through bodies all over the main floor with tiny flashlights. No video, no photography. Put your camera away, please. Not sure if this was by the band’s request, or just a new Fillmore policy. Either way, it was refreshing. I saw Gordon Gano et al soar through their entire debut LP, start to finish, without having to look through the shiny picture screens of everyone standing in front of me.

Eyeballs and Fangs

The two major differences between RF and myself are height, and the fact that his intoxication threshold for karaoke comes well before his threshold for dancing in public, whereas I’m quite the opposite.

Welcome back to The Fillmore. It’s been far too long. Where have all the shows gone? I used to line up religiously on Sunday mornings to check tickets off my wish list. This was my first time back in almost two years, and I’d almost forgotten how much I love this place, and its place in the City.

head.shoulder.knees.toes

Appropriately enough, my first show with RF in over two years was this weekend on the corner of Fillmore and Geary. He drank enough to dance; I was trashed enough to sing along to every song I was able (and some I shouldn’t have attempted). If we had stumbled a little farther down Post, post-show, I don’t doubt that we would have closed out Do Re Mi instead of Dimples.

New tUnE-yArDs? Woo-Ha!

Has it really been almost three years since w h o k I l l? The third tUnE-yArDs LP, Nikki Nack, comes out in May and the first single, “Water Fountain,” is just begging to be heard (and seen) live.

Since Merrill Garbus lives and records in Oakland now, advantage Bay Area. It seems like it’s been forever since I’ve had a chance (or a reason) to go to The Fillmore (The Promise Ring reunion in ’12 maybe?) But she’s beloved in this town, which means, now, booked among a depressing plethora of adult contemporary and graying jam bands, tUnE-YarDs hits that wonderful iconic brick façade at the corner of Fillmore and Geary.

June 6, my friends. And… Sylvan Esso is opening. Freaking Candyland.