a back of the napkin calculation suggested to me that i'd get to the bus on time if the show ended before midnight, and i figured it likely that local bylaws would shut the stage down at 11:00 or maybe 12:00. so, i was aware of the possibility but didn't think it would really be an issue...
i left early to head down to a record store to get some tickets, which took me a little past ferndale to an area called "royal oak" on maps but that seems to be referred to as "oakland" by residents (judging by the signs everywhere). i spent the long bus ride second guessing michael gira's decisions on his most recent juggernaut, to be kind. overall, it's a satisfying record, but the ego really veers it into bad taste at a few points...
this venue seems to be picking up. i'm guessing it has something to do with the magic stick being in the middle of a construction catastrophe (they're putting in a rail line up woodward), and something to do with bands not wanting to go into wayne county for safety reasons (and the bar is as close as you get to wayne county without going into wayne county), but it also simply needs to be stated that it's a relatively nice rock bar. it's next door to a microbrewery, which has it's pros and cons, which i'll get to. but it's designed like a bar you want to play. and it's ground level, which is so remarkably relieving for me when the bass kicks in....
so, it seems as though i'm going to be at this place relatively often. i just wish it was walking distance back to the tunnel.
i went to pick up four tickets, three at the same bar: torche for the night, screaming females next month, la dispute (at the masonic temple, early april) and lightning bolt in mid april. to my disappointment, they only had the la dispute, and there's actually no way to get tickets in advance for the other two. i'm not really worried about screaming females, but it's a bit small to hold a lightning bolt show in metro detroit. that will likely sell out. i'll have to get there early that day...
royal oak was a surprisingly nice neighbourhood to walk through, with more attended to landscaping and a lot of independent businesses. it almost seemed like i wasn't in detroit, for a few minutes. rather than wait for the bus, i decided to walk back up woodward to the loving touch, which got me most of the way through the new bjork record. it's well crafted, but it's missing colour. it's like a boring, run-of-the-mill mozart composition - mathematically flawless, but just not compelling. i'm really not very impressed by this arca character. he's very cinematic, but he's just not a talented composer in the sense of knowing what notes to put where. it's a shame the orchestrations are so robotic and emotionless, because bjork herself is clearly very emotionally invested in the disc. unfortunately, these kind of execution-level fails in what are otherwise excellently constructed grandiose concept records seem to have come to really define the latter half of her career.
i'm there a half hour early and grab a beer in the bar next door to pass the time.
-----
the doors open a little late, but when they do open i come face to face with the lack of beer bottles in the venue. this is a problem for a standing room show that is likely to feature some pushing and shoving.
now, the pro is that the beer selection itself is a little nicer, due to the microbrewery next door, even if it's only available on tap. i only tried the raspberry blonde, but it was pretty nice and something i'd drink a second time.
but, one simply cannot stand on the edge of a pit with a glass of beer, no matter how delicious the beer might be. guaranteed spillage. every time. take it to the fucking bank. and, sure enough, the floor quickly became sticky as people tried to mosh with plastic glasses and spilled their beers all over each other like the idiots they obviously are. absolutely predictable, and absolutely predicted the moment i saw there were no bottles.
i get the counter argument - you don't want to give angry, drunken oafs beer bottles to smash each other with. it's better to mop beer off the floor than blood. point taken. but i might take the issue back a step and suggest that you don't want to book bands that attract hooligans. responsible adult punk rockers know how to cradle a bottle in the pit - you don't go in until it's down halfway, then you keep your thumb over the top and cradle it inward, so your arm doesn't get knocked away from your body. you can hardly boost the entrance age to thirty. but you can choose not to book bands of a certain type.
i compromised with a gigantic pbr in a can, which is second best. more spill potential than a bottle, but manageable.
...and i knew it was going to be a long night when i was on my second beer and nobody'd come on before 10:00.
---
armed with a can rather than a cup, i suddenly had the new found confidence to wander on to the floor, and quickly came face to face with an already shitfaced fellow that was astounded that his friend couldn't recognize the music playing in the speakers. now, i acknowledged that i didn't recognize it either, but that i'm an old grunge kid and not a metalhead and that it's consequently out of my sphere. a debate quickly erupted on the merits of metal v punk, which led to him offering to buy me a shot. well, twist my arm. but i'm glad he cashed out, as he was teetering.
the exact transaction took the form of a shifting slew of half-coherent conditional statements, eventually culminating in "if you agree you like king diamond". i met his king diamond with some cardiacs, which he was unfamiliar with. we then agreed upon hawkwind and floyd. i'd yet to confirm the king diamond when the shot hit the counter, which i drowned quickly. well, i met his conditions repeatedly up to that point. fuck, i could have taken his offers cumulatively and demanded seven shots, but i'm just not that person. i did have to admit that i hadn't heard enough king diamond to form an opinion, and promised to check them out.
now, as you know, i'm a guitarist, so i have a little respect for feats of virtuosity - even if i tend to prefer punk (as a broad theme) to metal. but i'm also a composer, so i prioritize compositional complexity over pure virtuosity. one of the problems i have with metal is that the guitar solo is this institutionalized excursion. the song'll be going along like it's going and then, all of a sudden, the band breaks into this standard three chord rock song with a guitar solo that has absolutely no musical connection to the "composition" underlying it. when the solo kicks in, the band tends to stop playing together. it's not satisfying to me.
"cock rock metal's like a bad laxative:
it just don't move me, you know?"
see, i tried to point this out to the guy. if you want to hear some really interesting guitar playing, forget about michael schenker. what you want is al di meola. there's no contradiction in digging punk and upholding the superior musicianship in jazz. that's where you get it all come together. some prog does this well, while the worst of it is really equivalent to the worst metal.
i gave it a quick shot and i don't really hear anything particularly interesting in it. it's pretty generic "heavy metal", with doses of the worst prog (elp, yes, rush). predictable. formulaic. it's off the charts on the cheesy scale. the guitar style was already well worn and cliched by 1986. i'd suggest dream theater over it - their writing is a lot more interesting. but i'd rather listen to something like indricothere, or maybe queen, if you're going to push me on the point.
the first opening band started to play almost immediately after the shot was finished, so i thanked the kind (if smashed) fellow, convinced his friend the guy was done for the night (he needed little convincing) and hit the floor with my can of pbr....
---
now, when you've had what amounts to roughly three beers and you take a shot, you get that bolt of alcohol induced energy - it's not really a drunk feeling, it's more of a high. so, i'm dancing a bit, which kind of stood out in the crowd of slightly portly, rock solid torche fans, and skinny kids moshing. which attracted the presumably universally non-single women in the crowd to join in a little.
i'm not going to deck myself out to go to a torche concert. it's going to be roughly 80% completely straight guys, roughly 10% bearish gay guys and the remainder filled up by girlfriends and freaks. i'd fall into the freak category, contextually. there's going to be mutual repulsion with the brawny queers, and that's fine. and, most of those straight guys are not the type i really want hitting on me. the one that's going to hit on me is pretty much going to be the exact guy i'd prefer to avoid for basically ever. i'm either setting myself up for something creepy or something freaky. when i go to shows on the brink of what could be called 'metal', i consequently tend to dress down in a sweater or t-shirt, with no make-up. i'm there to see the show, and willing to blend in. i also had to be cautious of the safety concerns around the reality that i was hurdling myself into an uncharted area of detroit for the night and not sure how long i was going to be there...
in a dark room, when i start dancing to rock bands, it attracts women. they see a skinny bottled blond dude in a well-laundered grunge outfit. there's a timeless kind of sexiness to this. i understand that; i'm not entirely comfortable with it, but i do get it. the bottom line is that it's repeatably demonstrable. in multiple cities. now, i'm willing to bring another person into my little universe for a few minutes if they knock on the door, i like "fun", but i'm really solely there to see the show and not shy to point out when it's getting annoying, either. and i know single women don't often go to these types of concerts, too. that's not a value judgement, it's just conflict avoidance. the last thing i want is a fight.
there's a number of tactics women will use to try to get my attention when i'm out there, which are mostly variations on standing in front of me and pretending to fall on me. and i've let a few fall when they start pissing me off. but i got a new one last night. it consisted of leaning back so her head is hovering off my chest and pulling her phone out to take a "selfie" that includes the two of us. that gets your attention alright. it was fun to play along and take a few silly poses, but she seemed to want to play that game all night, so i had to point at the stage to get the point across. but somebody out there has got some choice pictures or videos (not sure) of me.....
the first band up was "wrong", which is basically ungoogleable regarding live footage. they weren't terrible, but this is a genre that is at this point defined more by the quality of the gear than it is by the quality of the songwriting. i mean, it's predictable, but you want it to be - you want that groove to set in and your head to get caved. they didn't quite have that oomph. maybe they'll find it if they keep working on it.
https://wrongriff.bandcamp.com/releases
i went out for a smoke break after the first band, hoping to catch a puff somewhere. after four drinks, you really only need one.
the border is not something i'm playing with. ever. it's just not worth it. probability = zero. and i'm not planning on stumbling through customs baked, either. but a puff at 9:00 is going to be indiscernible from a few drinks by the time i get there at 1:00. by that time last night, it was clear i wasn't going home until the morning.
i'll spare the details for good reasons: mission accomplished, amidst universal agreement of the absolute supremacy of canada as a nation state.
call it paranoia, but i didn't finish that pbr after i picked it back up. it just felt like bad news. and i took the opportunity to cut myself off, as well. you really just need one puff...
now, when i got back in the second band (nothing) was setting up and they really cracked me up. i didn't know anything at all about them, but it was pretty clear from looking at them (and their tease of mayonnaise) that it was going to be something more in the indie rock category. they were taking an unusually long time for sound check, which an opening band is usually going to do because they're wasting time to make up for a short set. i mean, the levels are generally already set before the tour starts. and ironing out the room is what soundcheck is for. it was getting exceedingly lengthy, so i called them on it...
"is this really necessary? do you think anybody is going to notice? or are you really just wasting time for a short set? i mean, what is this, some layered guitar effects shit or something? great if it is, but if you need to waste time, like, do a cover or something..."
listen: i'm a critic. and i'm a fucking punk. but i'm altruistic. it was meant constructively. long soundchecks for the second band are bad pr. something in the guitarist's head seemed to click. i think he heard the call out and basically agreed. so if they shorten that up in the future, you're welcome.
next, they realized that the drummer had disappeared and seemed visibly confused by it. but, in hindsight, i think this was a further delay tactic. this comedy finally ended with...
"we'll begin the set when we find our drummer."
this set me into convulsive fits of laughter, largely out of mental projections around the drummer just bailing on them. i have a dark sense of humour. if somebody got it recorded, they'll look back and laugh, too.
so, were they wasting time or really setting levels? i think it was mostly wasting time. it turns out that it's actually some pretty layered guitar shit, but they weren't setting levels on anything of the sort.
this is an old set and it gets the idea across but it doesn't really capture the evolution in the band's style, which has become a lot darker, bleaker and dronier. there's a lot of just flat out noise worked into the set, but it's ultimately a kind of nihilist alt rock. i want to avoid comparisons to the trendy gaze/metal hybrids of the last few years. rather, i'd suspect these guys are giant boris fans. i'd recommend checking them out - if you can handle finishing your beer before the set starts.
this is a full set from a few days later:
torche, on the other hand, just plugged in and started playing - after the tech fixed the bass drum, and they pleaded with management to turn off the neon green lights behind them.
"c'mon, guys. anything but christmas lights."
to no avail.
it was loud, which is really what i came for. bassy loud. the kind of bassy loud that makes you wonder if it's going to leave you with an irregular heartbeat. i've pointed this out in a lot of reviews. i crave that for some reason, it's some kind of addiction.
i'm a passive torche fan, so i'm not going to go into the different renditions of the songs. but they did what they do, and they did it enjoyably....
this is a full set from a few days later:
and, when it was done, it was 1:30. last bus back to canada? 1:09. so, i'm hanging out for a few hours...
my initial plan was to just get a beer or two and sit in the bar, thinking that you're looking at last call around 2:00 and the bar staying open until 4:00. by then, something should be running. but that's not how things work there, apparently. apparently, you're out at 2:00. unless i misunderstood....
after a bit of stumbling up and down the road, i found a 24/7 dunkin' donuts with a bus stop at the front door, which was just about ideal given that i was a little unnerved by the situation. i could sit inside until i saw the bus arrive - which turned out to not be until 5:30.
now, i've sat overnight in a wide variety of fast food restaurants but this was a singular experience. the counter attendant seemed to have a series of long running feuds with almost every customer that walked in, who all complained about how horrible the food and service is. naturally, i asked them why they keep coming back, and the answer - in all cases - reduced to some kind of game. they seemed to see each other as each other's nemesis. they seemed to enjoy being angry at each other, even desire it. free therapy with every order over $4.99?
at least two people seemed to live in the restaurant. one of them would sit in the bathroom for hours at a time, and constantly had to be chased out by staff. he seemed to clear the tables in exchange for compassion. but he was rather visibly in a cycle of some sort. my best guess was that he was trying to extract something from his excretions and then reuse it. he always left the bathroom very clean - like, cleaned - when he came out after a long period in it. he would then go behind the building, snort something, go into convulsions and repeat. it's hard to be judgmental about the drug habits of somebody that is in their 40s or 50s, is under five feet and has a noticeable hunch in his back. there's not a lot of options, there, unfortunately.
a number of people tried to get me out of the restaurant and go somewhere else, and while i'd have to apologize to any sincere requests, i certainly wasn't taking that kind of a chance. i think they were all sincere except one. he comes in, starts chatting me up and explains how he's from texas. then he's from florida. then he's from detroit. he's in town to visit his 20 year old daughter, then he's got a contract; he's on tv, then he's staying in an rv with a propane tank for heat that he needs to jump a barbed wire fence to get to. the story is constantly changing. he's trying to psych me out and failing horrifically. and it becomes clear after a while that he's trying to get me out of there - first when he lures me out with a cigarette, and then when he asks me to go hop the fence with him.
so, how do you get a guy like that away from you? you play down your wealth.
"gee, i wish i had some more cash, i could just take a cab home."
"i live on welfare, actually." <---that one was powerful, you could see his facial expressions twist.
i had a flip-phone on me as a clock. he left very shortly after he realized that was the newest phone i had.
---
so, i finally get on the bus about 5:30. it's a short ride to the station up the street that i could have easily just walked to and caught a bus an hour earlier. i knew that, it's just that i didn't want to miss one by a hair and get stuck for an hour at a sketchy bus station i've never been at. i assumed the buses would be synched, which was actually a wrong assumption...
so, i get off the bus and i hear a request for a smoke coming up behind me. i'll hand them out freely, 'cause i'll ask for them later. but, he wants to talk. detroit is a friendly place on the surface, until you realize how much of the conversation is meant to figure out whether you're a worthwhile target or not.
he's telling me he wants to go to the casino to win enough money to pay his bills for the month. it's about 5:45 am. he managed to get his rent paid, and he's visibly proud about that. but, he figures he can't do anything worthwhile with his last $47, so why not take the chance on it? he's probably going to have to borrow money, anyways. if he loses the $47, he hasn't lost anything worthwhile. if he wins enough to get what he needs for the month, he won't have to borrow anything.
logically, he's right in principle, i'd just question whether putting it into a slot machine is the highest probability option he has. he's probably better off buying a guitar in a pawn shop and finding somewhere to busk, for example. but, i'm not talking about any of this. he's already creeping me out a little.
then, he starts talking about my shoes. coveting them, actually. he's thinking they're $100 shoes - again, badly misperceiving my actual level of wealth. now, he's got on a pair of rainboots that are the size of clown shoes. he explains that they're far too big for him, and he's right. the dude legit needs a new pair of shoes. so, he asks me what size my shoes are...
in a sense, this is like "worst criminal ever" stuff. i'd tell him not to quit his day job, but, y'know. i'm actually wearing a pair of $40 glittery pink converse copies. they're boring skate shoes with some girly sparkles. i lie and tell him they're worth $20, and are size 6.
"wow, my feet aren't that small."
i take a step away...
i'm starting to gather that i'm dealing with a high functioning autistic person with a hormonal inability to comprehend empathy. a clinical psychopath. there's no cure for this. he needs medical attention that the system is unable to provide for him, and he *will* lash out if he's not able to meet his needs.
"hey, do you have a disease?"
i take another step back.
"can i have a sip of your coffee?"
autism confirmed. he's asking about the disease because he wants coffee, rather than something more violent. i'm still keeping my distance...
"i'd rather not share my coffee, i'm sorry."
at this point, he's aware that i'm uncomfortable, which seems to make him uncomfortable, and he walks across the station to chat up somebody else. the bus arrives shortly, and it's uneventful trip home from there...
this was a test run for the overnight; in the future, i'm probably better off staying at something else about half way there and walking to the station to catch the bus right on time. i don't want to spend more time at this station than i need to. the next show at this venue is on saturday, which means either getting out on time or catching the sunday morning bus....at a lovely 8:30 am.
i actually suspect i'll probably get out on time. we'll have to see how that goes, and what the path home looks like.
http://dghjdfsghkrdghdgja.appspot.com/categories/shows/2015/03/20.html
