Built to Spill at First Avenue

So I saw Built to Spill in the Mainroom on Thursday the 22nd, and it was a great show. A band called Fauxboix opened, and weren't too shabby, but Doug Martsch and Co. just blew me away.
They opened with "Else," which is probably one of my favorite songs of theirs from probably one of my favorite albums of theirs, and so we began on a great note. They played lots of great songs.. not the songs I expected them to play, but still great. I want to say how lovely the guitar work between the three fellows comes out, wonderful jamming. I love Doug a lot. I really love this band.

Schedule.

Very excited.

And happy 92nd birthday to Nelson Mandela. 
Possibly Dr. Dog in October.

Ramblin' Jack Elliott at the Cedar.

June 19-- We went to go see a folk pioneer play at the Cedar.  I think there is a trend forming of seeing folk musicians at the Cedar.  That's cool. 

Anyway, yes, so the mysterious "Rolling Patches Revue" part that was included on the event poster ended up being a (long winded) tribute to Ramblin' Jack himself, including a zillion local folksters, and then, surprise, Patches and Gretchen happened to be there too.  Well anyway, that's unimportant.
Yeah okay so then after all that and the intemission, 'twas time for Ramblin' Jack's set.  He was welcomed warmly by all, and sat down to play a few songs. No pictures were to be taken because he said that when people shot pictures of him, he felt compelled to "shoot back."  Well, he played some songs, and mostly told stories.  He really lives up to his epithet.  I don't know if we ever did reach the punchline to some of them.  His "sweetheart" Vickie Lee (the Queen of Rockabilly) came out to do a song with him (sung in G.. the People's Key) and rambled a little bit about some teddy bears that they have living at home that talk to them and often have malicious intentions.  Jack talked about Bob Dylan, and did a quick impression of him (well, his voice) during a song.  He got on coughing jags.  He complained about the heat, and the funny shape of his new hat.  He was pretty colorful.  Good stuff though.  I feel lucky to have seen the man.

Optometry.

Summer is Ready.

Here comes the sun.  The weather is shaping up nicely and I would like to go swimming. So. Here's the deal.

I have been cultivating my fondness for the wonderful Built to Spill this past year, and some weeks ago, I remarked, "Gee-- it sure would be nice to see this band play live."  And then the next morning, because fortune decided to smile upon me, I opened up the City Pages to the First Avenue schedule-ad, and guess who is scheduled for July 22?  Yes, indeed it is Built to Spill.  I am going, I am excited.

Also in the upcoming concert queue is one Ramblin' Jack Elliott.  There's a good chance I am going to see him play at the Cedar very soon.

I've been on a ridiculous Donovan kick lately, decades late to the party or not.  He just recently turned 64 years and released through his website a new single. (http://www.donovan.ie/).  He's got a new album coming out you know, Ritual Groove.  Whether it is going to come out within the summer or not, I think he'll be getting heavy rotations on my record player all summer long.

Speaking of new material.  My first musical love, Sawao Yamanaka, has finally gone along and created a solo album.  I will say, I am excited for him!  His album is called Discharge and the song 'Dawn Speech' is up and playing already.  What can we say about it?  It's different, it's Sawao trying to sound mellow, or something.  Still, it's nice to see him and Yoko together again.  I'm curious to hear more cuts from the record.

The Arcade Fire, too, have a new album due for August as well, titled The Suburbs. I doubt it has any correlation to the Minnesota band The Suburbs, but either way I am looking forward to hearing new Arcade Fire tunes.

Summer music is always integral to the season.  I will be digging out the required summer records soon, a comprehensive list of which I plan to compile in the near future.  Rock music friendships, yes yes.

Adventures in Space and Time with the Apples in Stereo

It's strangely apt that the Apples' new theme is time travel, because Saturday the night of May day sure happened fast, almost as if compressed in time.  Story time.

In all likeliness, I wasn't going to be going to this concert.  Just another age-restricted Turf Club show.  I really wanted to go though.  A good acquaintance suggested that I contact Robert to see if he could do any pulling of strings for me, and so I did.  He directed me toward his lovely wife Marci, to whom I am forever indebted for all the kind things she did for me.  Marci and I kept of sporadic correspondence until the very night of the show, where she sent me a last e-mail about 50 minutes before mom and I were going to leave that sealed the deal of getting in.  We got our things gathered in a great tizzy and left to go to the show.

So we got to University Ave., and basically just wandered and waited until the time came.  I made serious eyes at the wonderful Bill Doss in the CVS store, but I don't think he realized I recognized him.  I saw the kids of Laminated Cat (who, as it turned out, were a nice bunch too).  When the time came, we sent the deciding text to Marci, saying "Hello, this is nicole, we are here, we are in front. You are wonderful!" and about 15 seconds later, we spotted Marci and Robert through the window and coming out the door to come meet us. Wow!

First impulse of mine was to hug the pair, and so I did, and shook their hands.  Robert commented, "Nice Music Tapes shirt!" and flashed his lovely white smile, and I melted a little bit.  They led us in, where we found out they had actually put me on their guest list (oi!) and really weren't even expecting me to have a ticket.  Amazed I was, and Robert then announced, "We're gonna go eat," and so mom and I were left alone again, completely floored.

Sitting at the bar, I basically looked around dumbfounded and overjoyed to be there, and listened to Laminated Cat mic check for a while.  Robert walked by later and spoke with us again, and then soon enought LC began their set. 

Not knowing much about them, I honestly enjoyed LC.  Basically, they are a group of some talented young kids who like to make psychedelic rock music, and play it well.  Robert stood solitary in the middle of the floor, watching them like a proud father, for the majority of their set.  I really enjoyed this band, and ended up purchasing their two CDs afterward.  Very polite indeed: the bassist smiled widely at me as he walked by; my mom told the front man (whose voice I really quite love) he did a really nice job, and he just smiled and looked in her eyes and said "Thank you very much"; and the guitarist said to me afterward, "I like your shirt.  A lot." (Gee--I claim to like these guys and I can't even remember their names off hand.  I am an awful person).  Anyway, Laminated Cat is a cool bunch, definitely worth checking out.  They finished their set, and the first middle waiting time commenced.
   Generationals!  I only really knew them from the radio, but they were pretty cool. 
More on this soon...

Festival of Nations

Today I visited the 2010 Festival of Nations over in St. Paul and had a nice crowded time. As always, there were hordes of people there, which gets on my nerves in trying to walk but also is nice in seeing such diversity.

Largely, the bazaar and cafe are where it's at. So of course, I spent a lot of time looking around at all the little buyables that are supposedly representative of their respective country (which, in many cases, aren't, but likewise in many are-- the Matryoshkas, for example). I ended up at the Tibet stand, where I bought a cute little knit hat (although summer is on its way) and a beaded bracelet. There I spoke to an older fellow from Tibet from whom I got the sense that he'd really like to go back but "(sigh)" he really cannot, "because China."  He was really a kind old man and pressed my hand warmly before I left, and I was happy to have spoken to an interesting person.

Speaking of interesting persons, I continued ambling along through the stands, and I spotted a blanketed instrument obviously of Indian origin.  I didn't know what it was, so I sort of stood and stared until the women took notice, then I asked them.  As it turns out, it's a veena, the ancient cousin of the sitar, and the national instrument of India.  They are 2000 years old and have a nice unique sound.  The woman who led the troupe of veena players and others was one Ms. Nirmala Rajasekar, who coincidentally was going to be playing that day a small set, so I went to watch her.  She was quite friendly, and really quite good, and reassured me that sitar "really isn't that complicated."  I'll take her word for it..

Anoushka Shankar at the Dakota.

Yesterday, the twentieth, my father and I went to the lovely Dakota Jazz Club to watch Ms. Anoushka Shankar play up her sitar, and we enjoyed ourselves thoroughly.
Having been my first time visiting the Dakota, I didn't realize that I would be enjoying an entire dinner meal there and be waited upon all night. It was quite nice though, and the food was good.

Anyway, Anoushka and her fellow players came onstage and filled the place with wonderful music. They began with a traditional Indian style piece that was just lovely to the ears. Anoushka, sitting in center with a great stage prescence, led the songs, which varied from traditional ragas to psychedelic flamenco-esque pieces ("it's like flamenco--but not entirely") to interesting energized songs with her two percussionists going at it across the stage verbally. All the pieces were terribly impressive, what with so many plucked notes in rapid succession and much raking of the sympathetics alongside the tom dom tom of the tabla. She played a piece written by her father, as well (as she put it: "... I assume I don't have to tell you his name"). Later, she introduced her band-mates, and mentioned that she was actually playing a borrowed sitar, from a San Franciscan fellow named Kenji (who was standing up in the balcony above) because her own was damaged during transport. Oh dear. She wasn't very distraught, however, and seemed confident it was repairable. The last song they played before encore was a long jam of back-and-forth motifs wherein each player had his or her own solo bit. After leaving for a minute, they came back on to do the final song, which was a romantic Indian song that they "like to finish shows with." It was very pretty indeed, and left a good taste in my mouth. (Also the soup I had was delicious).
Here I am looking silly as usual with Anoushka's percussionists and flautist who I spotted on the sidewalk after the show. When I saw them walking out, I promptly succeeded in walking into a locked revolving door. Hopefully, they didn't notice.

Revival...

Now, I don't quite know just where I've been, but I plan now to revive my electronic rambling archive.
So what shall I say today? Well, there's so terribly much I don't exactly know with what to begin, or where. Perhaps I will just coo about the Sarangi.

I met it for the very first time some weeks ago. I had never seen anything like it. There's some zillion sympathetic strings, and it had quite the sound to it. And it is so slippery-slidey, the way you sidle up to those gut strings. So neat. More later, I will come back in time.

So Long, Decade One.

Wow !!

2000-2009

R.I.P. first decade of this century. You had a great run.

Monsieur Sitar

My newest buddy-thing. He's very complicated, but I love him.

Hopefully we will become good friends in due time...

Out on a Wintry Day

Rainy Evening on Hennepin Avenue, by Robert Koehler ca. 1902--hanging at M.I.A.

So, I did say in the Andrew Bird post that Saturday December the twelfth was filled with beautiful everything, and here I have those day time things. (I'm working backwards!)

The Minneapolis Institute of Arts is a wonderful place, and I've enjoyed going there a lot in the past few years. The resident-art is free to look at, and (save for a few over-zealous guards eyeing you down) an afternoon spent there is quiet and wondrous. I recommend it.

Anyway, currently, they have an exhibit of borrowed pieces of art from the Louvre. (!) My grandparents invited us to go look at it with them, and it is really nothing less than amazing. Although only the tiniest fraction of their art could be borrowed and brought across the sea, the ones that made the voyage are exceptional. There were archaic pieces, Da Vinci sketches preserved on their paper, and also there was The Astronomer. Present, in real life! Wow! This was a very special meeting for me! Do go, if you have the chance.

After we finished poring over the pieces in there, I spent hours more wandering about the rest of the museum (one could easily spend a week there and not get bored). The building itself is beautiful. The place is immaculate.
I looked out the multi-storey wall of windows, and saw a lovely panorama of a wintry Minnapolis. In the foreground were kids and their trails left by their sleds on the gentle hill with trees scattered, up to their ankles in white snow. The middle had some city streets and the various apartment blocks and the back held the classic line of sky-scrapers. It was a very pretty sight.Later, after having left the musee', we went back to the grandparents' place, where I left to take a walk. The weather was good; the air crisp but not harsh, no terrible wind, the sun casting light along the trees and the structures. It was beautiful. I stopped for a moment to take a fellow's photo with his bike on the greenway, then walked uptown. It wasn't terribly slushy yet, so I went on to cheapo records, where the warmth fogged up my spectacles. The sky began to dim, so I strode briskly back, reading Benjamin Franklin's autobiography to keep me company. I was met back at the grandparents' with grilled cheese sandwiches and hot chocolate, paired (oddly enough) with a can of tropical fruit bits. At any rate, I think my day epitomized the romantic and jazz aura of the town. And it proves that it actually can still exist and happen in that way. It's very lovely.

Ornithology and Stained Glass

It has almost been an entire week now that I get around to writing about this, but Gezelligheid is still stuck in my mind.

Saturday, December the twelfth was filled with most beautiful everythings; notably, Andrew Bird at Saint Mark's Episcopal Cathedral in Minneapolis. It was his third night playing his Gezelligheid shows here at this immaculate church plopped down in Loring, and the weather was crisp and promising. Sitting beneath the doubled Victrola was one bevested sock monkey. Andrew came on stage looking dapper as usual, albeit with a little five-o'clock-shadow about his face and mussed hair, with a slight limp, which he acquired the first night after smashing his heel in (as he told us). This show was largely instrumental, comprised of most beautiful melodies that Mr. Bird has been working on. He played these long, epic pieces, with masterful use of loop to layer under the cry of his dear fiddle, and the result was truly chilling. With every factor playing in, I venture to say that this was the most aesthetically beautiful show I have ever watched. I was stricken, at the time, by the realization of all the beauty. I try to paint it.

Try to imagine:
The all-encompassing sound of the violin loop, echoing off the ancient walls of this cathedral, and the quiet of all the listeners. Behind Andrew's sweet head was a startling wall of illuminated stained-glass ikons, illustrating some epic tale of yore, while this young man and the violin produced such sweet sounds that would make even Cremona's original inventors of the instrument proud. His elongated shadow jumped and twisted over the left wall, making a dark silhouette of a man and a bow in some passionate work. Projected on the immense beige walls behind were vibrant colors of cyan, magenta, green and white. Stephen (?) emerging to accompany Andrew on clarinet, then saxophone for the next song. Andrew knelt down to play and attend to the loop button, and Stephen (?) shaking while playing his sax madly, with insane other-worldly effects bending the sounds. Andrew's flowery and colorful gestures with his hands as he spoke to silent us. The shaking of his head while he whistled and plucked at the catgut. His ever un-conventional strumming of those strings and striking them, bouncingly, with the hard side of the bow. Natural Disaster. Stephen (?) on his standing bass, pulling and pounding his thumbs to rhythm. "Minnapolis has been like a home to me." An old song, from the Bowl of Fire days... The Swimming Hour-- so beautiful. And another new one, and finish with Scythian Empires. We stood and clapped and clapped and clapped and he came back out, and played a little Bob Dylan, with Oh Sister. My, was it wonderful. Very special indeed.