I should say that I didn't do a lot of advance planning on this project, in terms of lining up tickets for show buddies, so I'm winging it a little bit.
Here's a tentative list of shows:
9/30: Raveonettes.
10/1: Team Spirit.
10/2. LVL Up, Mitski.
10/3: Sunset Guns.
10/4: Screaming Females.
10/5 Afghan Whigs.
10/6: Bear Hands.
10/7: Charli XCX.
10/8: The Blow.
10/9: Judas Priest
10/10: Muffs.
I'd originally planned to see Ariel Pink on Thursday, and King Tuff next Wednesday, but both shows are sold out. It's looking like tickets for Afghan Whigs are getting scarce, and Charli XCX might follow suit, so this is subject to change.
First up, Raveonettes. $25 at Music Hall of Williamsburg.
This was a great show. It's the second time I've seen the Raveonettes, and I was glad to get some last-minute confirmations from friends who wanted to come along. Thanks Derrick, Jackie, and Ryan for getting me started on the right foot!
I got held up on the subway between Union Square and Bedford Avenue, then stopped to join Jackie and Ryan for a drink near the venue, so I missed most of the opening act, Coves. We caught four of their songs, enough to appreciate the huge sound from just a single guitarist, and to see the singer play tambourine with a drumstick and wave her her floppy sleeves around like a deranged druid, and to her her declare, "this is our last song, like, uh, yeah" as the guitar kicked in to cut off her ramblings.
When the Raveonettes came on, Jackie pointed out that we were in a generally old crowd, which surprised me a bit, but allowed Jackie and Derrick to commiserate over recent experiences in which they'd been the oldster in a crowd of young 'uns.
To be totally honest, things didn't get off to a great start for me. When the show started, I ended up stuck behind an obnoxious guy with a flock of seagulls hair cut who swayed around and occasionally hit me with the jacket he had draped over his shoulder. The lights, against the smoke machine-fueled haze, burst bright and fast, and I turned to Jackie and said "I think I'm going to have a seizure." Sune looked drunk and barely seemed to pay attention to the melody he was singing. The band relied heavily on a backing track that included bass, synths and drums (although there was a drummer on stage), and at some points didn't look like they were playing guitar.
But I pushed my way up ahead of my jacket-swinging antagonist and started to fall in love all over again. The lights calmed down somewhat (although at one point near the end of the set I found myself blinking in time with the music to avoid the brightest flashes), the backing track became less obtrusive, and Sune's voice gained momentum, and the whole thing coalesced into the delirious fuzz of distorted guitars, retro-rock beats and sugary harmonies that these guys do so well. They played a bunch from their latest album, which was released at the end of July, so I was glad I was able to listen to that on Youtube throughout the workday. But they also played a bunch of their older stuff, and a three song set of Love in a Trashcan, Chain Gang of Love, and Attack of the Ghost Riders brought down the house (in particular, Love in a Trashcan, which kicked of the mini-retro set, seemed, well, huger, than I'd ever heard it before).
Sune to be seems a pretty awkward frontman for a guy who's a goddamn musical genius, almost whispering "Thank youuuu" at the end of songs, and at one point looking sheepish, gawky and self-conscious while dancing during a musical breakdown. Someone in the crowd threw him a green baseball cap, which hit him in the chest and dropped to the floor. He picked it up, looked confused for a minute and then put it on, a grin slowly spreading on his face. And then he picked his guitar back up and proceeded to kick some more ass with a new solo.
They skipped a lot of my old favorites, like Last Dance, Boys Who Rape (Should All Be Destroyed), Ignite, and Blitzed, but hey, that happens.
And then it was over. One down, nine to go.
