Nothing to Say, Nothing to See, Nothing to Do
Christopher took me to see Belle & Sebastian Saturday night at the Paramount. I hadn't seen them since 2001 at the Capitol Theater in Oly, a couple of weeks after 9/11, when their fog machines set off the smoke alarms and a lot of people (myself included) thought the city might be under attack.
This was less fraught with sociopolitical angst, but still an excellent show. I mean, basically, B&S is a vocal group now, rather than an indie rock band; their songs are frequently marvelous (though really, Sinister is still the peak they keep descending from), but basically an excuse for the singers to harmonize in tight, perfect little banks. There's no "show" to speak of. They just walk out, start playing and then stop. Nothing more to see here, but it doesn't matter. I remember thinking how strange it was last time to learn that they traveled in a bus. It's much more apt to imagine them sailing from show to show on kites or something. But for pete's sake: they're veterans, they're a huge menagerie, and they're fookin' Brits! Of course they have a couple of buses and a couple of semis, and why the eff shouldn't they?
Murdoch has the gentlest, prettiest voice I can think of (similar in tone and character to Matthew Caws, actually, though the respective means and ends are as diff as diff can be), and the degree to which he does not project as a means of communicating vocal power is staggering. The whisper that hushes the room, innit? Such a pleasure to be greeted with reasonable volume levels and dexterous vocalizations. I only wish the Paramount had left the seats in. The experience would've been made all the more pleasurable if it had been treated like the concert it was. It's not like anyone was dancing, anyway.
And speaking of excellent harmonies, the other thing was that they brough the New Pornographers on at the encore and did an all-star jam cover of "No Matter What," that really rocked. However, it was my perception that I was the only person in the room who had ever heard of Badfinger, much less worship them.
Signed,
The World's Oldest Man
This was less fraught with sociopolitical angst, but still an excellent show. I mean, basically, B&S is a vocal group now, rather than an indie rock band; their songs are frequently marvelous (though really, Sinister is still the peak they keep descending from), but basically an excuse for the singers to harmonize in tight, perfect little banks. There's no "show" to speak of. They just walk out, start playing and then stop. Nothing more to see here, but it doesn't matter. I remember thinking how strange it was last time to learn that they traveled in a bus. It's much more apt to imagine them sailing from show to show on kites or something. But for pete's sake: they're veterans, they're a huge menagerie, and they're fookin' Brits! Of course they have a couple of buses and a couple of semis, and why the eff shouldn't they?
Murdoch has the gentlest, prettiest voice I can think of (similar in tone and character to Matthew Caws, actually, though the respective means and ends are as diff as diff can be), and the degree to which he does not project as a means of communicating vocal power is staggering. The whisper that hushes the room, innit? Such a pleasure to be greeted with reasonable volume levels and dexterous vocalizations. I only wish the Paramount had left the seats in. The experience would've been made all the more pleasurable if it had been treated like the concert it was. It's not like anyone was dancing, anyway.
And speaking of excellent harmonies, the other thing was that they brough the New Pornographers on at the encore and did an all-star jam cover of "No Matter What," that really rocked. However, it was my perception that I was the only person in the room who had ever heard of Badfinger, much less worship them.
Signed,
The World's Oldest Man
posted by Sean Nelson at 11:16 AM
1 Comments:
When Blade and I saw them at the Paramount their last time around, he couldn't shut up between songs. He was pretty funny and seemed disarmingly genuine, but it kinda killed the mystery, broke the spell... And I really wanted there to be seats as well. That's why I skipped out this time despite loving the new album.
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