This is going to be a tough post to write. I should hang black banners on my blog or something. I mean, how in the world am I supposed to write when Captain America has been murdered? They shot him down like a dog on the courthouse steps. What type of world do we live in where even Captain America is dead?
(Sorry if I spoiled the ending for anyone who has been reading the Civil War series. But yes, Marvel has decided to kill off Captain America. It’s still not clear what they mean. They may have just killed Steve Rogers and someone else will take up the costume. They may use the typical Dr. Doom “He’s not really dead” storyline. Or maybe they are serious and, much like Bucky Barnes, Cap is no longer with us. I, along with the rest of the Avengers, are officially in mourning.)
Ok, a few more thoughts on last night’s post. I’m not kidding when I say that record stores rely on my business to stay afloat. When I left for B-school the independent record store I shopped at weekly went under in less than six months. I really think that I had something to do with that. And even though I do most of my shopping at either Streetside or Border’s I don’t consider them to be a godless, bloodsucking corporate machine. I mean, they are, but Border’s has a rather nice selection and the people who work at Streetside are cool. That’s why I don’t entirely fault them for doing this promotion to make a few dollars, just as long as they admit that it is a crass marketing stunt. Ticketmaster, on the other hand, uses my fees to purchase gold plated toilet seats and when the revolution comes I swear I will be manning the firing lines when we put those bastards up against the wall.
Looking at it (and some Soundscan data that I have) it really looks like it had to be a platinum selling disc to even be mentioned. That would take out The Postal Service and Death Cab for Cutie, even though both of those discs would make the cut of influential discs of the past ten years. It’s great that they included “Way to Blue” on there but that is based more on sales than on awesomeness. I’m more surprised that only one R.E.M. disc (and one Radiohead disc) made the cut. Both are popular bands with large catalogues and you’d think they would merit inclusion over every Led Zepplin disc.
There is one other ranking that I will have to give them credit for. Beastie Boys “Licensed to Ill” came in at 31 and that is a fair ranking. Remember that when “You’ve got to fight” came out everyone took them to be one hit wonders. Vanilla Ice before anyone had heard of Rob Van Winkle. The fact that they had a long and impressive career astounds me. Especially given the rumors that all of the band members had died of cocaine overdoses in 1987. Though if we are giving late 80’s rap groups some love could we include a Fat Boys record? Or at least give a special mention to Disorderlies for being the best film starring a rap band ever?
Anyway, I need to talk about the Glen Kotche show on Monday night. Glen is the drummer for Wilco and this was the last date of his solo tour before he joins back up with the band. And this was a solo show by the drummer. That’s as odd to write as it is to see. An hour long drum solo does not sound like the most exciting thing in the world to me. But he did something at this show that makes it the early leader for “Weirdest set of the year” and tops The Ditty Bops bringing out a guy on stilts for the weirdest concert moment that I have ever seen.
We’re about halfway through the set, which was really good. He used a couple looping tracks at time to give a bit of melody but he mainly used a tricked out drum kit to keep things interesting. Then he introduced this track called the Balianese Monkey War Chant. Which was based on a Hindu myth involving several gods who spoke using various strange attachments to his kit. (One I think was one of those metal springs that used to be attached to my dorm room lamp). He starts playing and hitting cymbals and looping some of the noise. Then he gets up and turns to this folding table that is behind him.
He lifts this blanket off the table and you see that there are about forty small boxes on the table. About the size of a Matchbox car. He turns on this miniature flashlight and begins to lift the lid on each box and shines the light into the box. As he does this, you begin to hear chirping sounds. Yes, Glen Kotche played a drum solo while being accompanied by a table filled with crickets. Forty some crickets chirping into the overhead mike.
It was the damndest thing that I’ve ever seen in a concert.
He really used the crickets as a musical instrument. They provided the background vocals for his solo and served as a counter voice for all of these characters that he invented with his drum kit. I’m not sure how he did this, or how the crickets didn’t immediately jump around the stage or if this is the strangest rider request ever. All I know is that it was bizarre but it worked. You felt that you were in Bali trapped in the midst of a Hindu myth. And pulling that off when in reality you are standing in a bar in a strip mall in Kansas City is one hell of an accomplishment.
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