because my guitar player still qualifies as psychologically inept and we haven’t started recording a new album yet, let alone play live gigs, i’ve been forced to write for this crap blog, reviewing live shows. a few weeks back i went to see band of horses, acoustic, at carnegie hall.
band of horses (great). carnegie hall (cool for them). acoustic (lies!) every member of the eight person band was plugged into something. there were cords and pedals everywhere. stacks of amps, roadies running in and out; so much so, they could of billed it as an anti-acoustic show. it only occurs to me now, that maybe it was the american hipster irony at work. makes sense, the hall was filled to the teeth with “hipsters,” the self-righteous, indie culture mavens from brooklyn. half the bars in williamsburg must have been empty that night. but rightfully so! the band of horses deserve to be listened to live, and doing so at carnegie hall was quite a treat. despite the fact that it was incorrectly billed, i loved the show.
they started off a bit slow for my taste, and it continued to go that way through the first half of the set. in fact, ‘bout six songs in, one of williamsburg’s finest yelped, “pick up the pace.” to which horses front man, ben bridwell, replied, “this one’s for you,” and proceeded to play their slowest, saddest song. i liked that move. F the audience, i say. and to that wanker who dared dictate the band’s set, i hope you come to a SEXually show one day. if you do, try and get to the front row. i’d like to have a piss on your head.
rest of the show was brilliant, as they eventually did pick up the pace. they even had a real nice look about them, all bearded, wearing skinny jeans and flannels. they got this whole brooklyn jesus thing going. there was bridwell, the lead brooklyn jesus. and the other guy, fat brooklyn jesus (sorry, “heavy set” brooklyn jesus is what i meant). they had drummer brooklyn jesus, several back up brooklyn jesus. they even had a cowboy brooklyn jesus. made me want to do a whole punk brooklyn jesus thing. [note to stylist: potato sacks, sewn into butt tight pants. wooden cross as a back satchel. crown of thorns, but made from heroine needles.] i wish i could grow a beard the way johnnie can. [note to doctor: can full body laser hair removal be reversed? i’ve grown bored with that fetish anyhow.]
it was a bit stuffy to watch a show at c hall. all of it was sitting down, even during the encore. and there was a phone nazi, making sure we didn’t communicate to the outside world. “not even so much as a tweet,” he said to me, waggin his finger back and forth like a sex toy. worst of all, no booze at the seats. really? I mean, come on! quite the stupid little rule, no? I was about to pull my alcohol handicap card, which allows me to drink anywhere i need to, but there was this guy in front of me, a drunk brooklyn jesus, who brought his own pint of whiskey. he got so drunk, i was able to snatch his bottle and convince him the phone nazi took it.
i have to admit, it’d be really grand to play carnegie hall one day. [note to self: play carnegie hall. vomit on stage. might be a first.] it wasn’t until half way through the show that I noticed that the entire band (of horses) was standing on asian carpets. Is that a hall thing, or horses thing? [note to evelyn: a rider in all my contracts that I must perform on asain carpets. this includes ALL concerts, interviews (even with police), and the many various appearances, even if it’s just in my apartment, pretending in front of the mirror.] thank you.
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