To Be Even MORE Long-Winded Than Charlie

September 30, 2002

Charlie just put up his insanely long rock concert journal about the three Sleater-Kinney shows we went to last week. He goes into all the sordid details that I decided to leave out. This means that brevity was sacrificed, but what the hell. After reading something so detailed (about something that I was actually there for, the entire three nights), I’ve decided to totally wreck the blog format and provide the first entry ever with extended Han Commentary. This is about as self-indulgent and inside jokey-joke as I’ve ever done, so I’d recommend not reading it. Yeah, that’s right. I’m actually telling you NOT TO READ IT (unless you have some really weird Sleater-Kinney fixation).

All text is Charlie’s except for things in [Brackets and Bold], which will indicate my genius witticisms and mindless blathering (I promise a little of both). This will be a lot like watching a video in my living room. The original entry is here. My re-edited version follows:

So it’s been a week since my three concerts of SLEATER-KINNEY LOVE THROUGH SHEER ATTRITION here in Los Angeles and I think I’ve finally recovered. [ I'm not sure I'm totally recuperated, honestly. I feel fine physically but I still have visions of Carrie dancing in my head. It helps me sleep though, so it's cool. ]

I’ve been following the gals of Sleater-Kinney since just after Hot Rock [Im perpetually late to the hipster indie cred party], but it’s taken until this year to finally see them live and bear witness of the kicking out of the jams. [ My first S-K album was Call the Doctor and yet I'd only seen them live once before ATP. I had this recurring problem of hearing about their shows AFTER they actually happened. ] The first time was at the All Tomorrow’s Parties festival at UCLA back in March, but that wasn’t the best of shows, as they were somehow sandwiched amidst a bunch of dubious programming, being the act that followed Japanese noise act Merzbow. [Tip: If you like your music with melody, beats, and rhythm, avoid Merzbow] [Tip: If you like to leave concerts with your bowels intact, avoid Merzbow. ] [ This was actually the first time I heard the One Beat material AT ALL, as they hadn't even gone into record yet at the time of this show. ]

Flash forward to August, Sleater-Kinney put on another hour long and some change set at LA’s local Sunset Junction festival. Great set, but it was still an outdoor thing, so you really don’t have much intimacy with the band and the energy is kind of dispersed amongst people with only passing interest in the band. Plus for some unknown reason, half the crowd bought their camcorders and figured it’d be better to stick their eyes in viewfinders rather than enjoy the live show with their own eyeballs. [ Being an essentially free show, there were a lot of people there who knew nothing about Sleater-Kinney and wanted to see what the big fuss was about. There were a LOT of crowd jackasses though, including a mohawked wannabe punker who yelled stuff like "pussylickers" at the band at the beginning of the set. ]

And then finally last week I got to bask in the glory, but even that wasn’t without its missteps, oddities, and weird hoohah.

Day One:

The two shows I had gotten tickets to were to be at the El Rey in Los Angeles, a great medium sized venue, which is basically a big long box where the sound is good, the roof is nice and high, there’s air conditioning, and lots of room to move around. Not too big, not too small, just a great place to see a show. [ I dig the El Rey a lot too, although I found it curious that Mike Watt doesn't like seeing shows there because the sound is "lame." ]

Two days before night one of Sleater-Kinney, the El Rey was shut down due to violating some fire ordinances. The only way I found out about this was from hear it from my friend, who dug it up via various newsletters and internet research. But that’s moot, because Ticketmaster, being the kind and helpful service they are, notified everyone with tickets through e-mail at 5pm the day of the show. A plentiful three hours before doors were supposed to open. [ Ticketmaster sux. Also, apparently the El Rey was trashed by Faith Hill during a video shoot. Something about hanging a ton of lights on the rafters and caving the roof in. ]

Anyway, the show was moved to some nightclub I’d never heard of called The Highlands, some shi-shi foo-foo joint at the big shrine to capitalist excess known as Hollywood & Highland.

Anyway, I jet from work early that evening, grab my friend Han [Hey, that's me! ], and make our way through ass traffic to Hollywood & Highland, where apparently not only was Sleater-Kinney playing at one of their exclusive clubs, but two doors down at the Kodak Theater the Latin Grammys were taking place. Strange, but it’s LA, so this is par for the course. [ The Hollywood and Highlands mall complex is honestly one of the ugliest things I've ever seen man build. Sleater-Kinney mentioned that playing there made them feel a bit like Tiffany. ]

So being that there was the whole confusion about the venue change, we ended up getting to the joint early compared to what a typical concert line-up would be. Like, 4 people from the front. At about 8:30, doors open up, and holy fuck, I score an insanely close spot right up next to the stage.

Now I’ve been to my fair share of concerts, and being the midget that I am, most general admission concerts are painful affairs where I usually end up being behind some 6 foot 4 rasta dude with a beehive.

Not for this show, where I was literally in front of the mic stand right up on the stage. It was really strange, because I was so close I could’ve sucker punched the various performers at any point. No railing, no nothing. Just a two foot high step onto the stage. The joint is apparently some really nice nightclub/bar where they throw a lot of Hollywood movie premiere parties for cast and crew and that sort of thing, and not really geared for the rock show. Which of course means for the audience, the venue was AWESOME. [ I liked the Highlands a lot for the same reasons, but the sound was pretty ass-like both nights. It doesn't matter as close as we were, as you tend to pick up the sound directly off the amps and monitors. Also, security was really tight, as they practically gave me a handjob on the way in. Apparently they though "rock show' meant crazy punkers with knives or something. ]

Anyway, for night one, Sleater-Kinney had The Quails and Shannon Wright opening for them. The Quails are a nice punk group from San Francisco who are very polite, very poppy, and put on a pretty nifty show. Nothing earth-shattering, but catchy songs about foreign concepts to the Los Angeles crowd like riding bicycles or riding the bus. The guitarist from The Quails had this strangely hypnotic dance she would do as she was rockin’ out that was like half the Roger Rabbit, and half some foot shuffle dance, but all the same, it worked. [ The Quails were hilarious and fun. I regret not buying the CDs while I was at the merch table. I'd describe their sound and vibe as folky new wave, with power for the people lyrics traced over spiky guitar riffage. The bass player dressed like the Good Humour Man. ]

Following The Quails was Shannon Wright. Now, Sleater-Kinney plays your fast, hard, and upbeat rock and roll, but in contrast, Shannon Wright played really heavy and melodramatic music that was the kind of stuff you write if you contemplate suicide and heartbreak a little too much. Her music is really stark, and comes off kind of like a non-carny female version of Tom Waits, but kind of one note, in that it’s doom and gloom in every song. However, it is really great music, and Wright definitely gets into her music big-time, from her Mick Jagger prancing around stage, to dry-humping her guitar. Hell, at one point, Han almost got whacked in the face with her massive Fender Jazzmaster. [ She was literally an inch from knocking my teeth out. It was partially my fault being pressed up so close to the stage exactly where the was a gap in the stage monitors. ] Near brushes with death aside, it was a solid set that was REALLY LOUD and moody. Not what I’d expect before Sleater-Kinney, but I can’t complain because I already went through the pain of sitting through Merzbow for Sleater-Kinney back at All Tomorrow’s Parties. [ Shannon Wright is awesomely intense. I like when she plays piano with her feet while playing guitar. ]

Finally at around 11:30ish, Sleater-Kinney finally took the stage.

Almost too uncomfortably close to Corin.

Like I said before, I was up in front, right on the stage, but despite being that close for the first two bands, it was really weird being so damned close to Corin Tucker. Living in LA, brushes with celebrity-dom and that bullshit doesn’t usually faze me, but it’s another thing when you’re so close you could conceivably reach out and suckerpunch a band you’ve worshipped for a few years. [ I like how Charlie's gut reaction to facing greatness is to suckerpunch it. ]

So Sleater-Kinney finally takes the stage, and it’s probably the greatest thing I’ve ever been a part of. It’s something special to get to see a band you love a shitload, and see them THAT close, and see them in a place that’s tiny and intimate. It sounds cheesy, but seeing a band in that kind of situation is about as good as it gets.

Hell, the icing on the cake was that because I was the d00d right in front of Corin, I was the proxy audience member she had to look at when looking up from her guitar. I’m sure it pleased her to no end to get to stare at some short fat asian kid with a blissed out look on his face singing along off-key for an hour and a half. [ Charlie likes to imagine that Corin was making googly eyes at him during the show. Just ignore him. Everyone knows she was staring at me. ]

Their set list was of course focused primarily on One Beat stuff, and the greatest hits off the other stuff. Their cover song of the night was “Private Idaho” by the B-52s. Of the stuff they played that night, the highlights were Step Aside [dig that wah pedal by Carrie to replace the horn section], Call the Doctor, and The End Of You [probably my favorite of all the Sleater-Kinney songs]. Unfortunately, no Dig Me Out.

What I love about Sleater-Kinney is that you definitely get your money’s worth at their shows, which is evidenced by their walk off stage before their encore, where Corin took off her guitar and there was this MASSIVE sweat stain where the strap was. Not quite Mike Watt sweatage, but good lord it was pretty hardcore. [ Carrie had the same strap residue. I don't even know what Janet does, since she probably goes through like 20 black tanktops a month while on tour. ]

Day Two:

Once again, at the Highlands, and once again, we rocked the front from being there early again, cuz were dweebs. We actually ended up only two steps to the right from the spot we occupied on night one. In front of Corin. Again. No Miss Tucker, Im not stalking you. I swear. [ The two most disturbing Corin Tucker articles are here and here. Actually, they're both kinda funny if you're not Corin. ]

I shoulda stolen her guitar.

Again, all three acts put on great performances [again, no Dig Me Out]. However, there were some jackasses a few people away from us who were shouting obnoxious things to every act for some inexplicable reason. Now, I can understand going to a festival and heckling bands youre not familiar with, and that kind of noise, even though that just marks you as a jerk and someone who needs an ass-kicking. [ These two dorks actually did the "Dude, up here" high-five thing after one particularly banal taunt. I thought this behavior was confined to the darkest recesses of frat basements in Idaho, but I was deeply wrong. ]

However, if youre there for a typical show, and youre sitting through a max of two opening acts, you should at least have the courtesy to shut the fuck up and be polite for these poor folks playing to crowds who arent familiar with their music. Or at least just get your ass to the back of the room so everyone else can enjoy themselves. [ Other than these two, the crowd was very nice and very into the show. Lots of dancing and jumping, and the wooden floor flexed like a trampoline as the crowd bounced up and down. It was incredibly hot and sweaty though. ]

Another interesting thing about the show was I started noticing the makeup of Sleater-Kinneys fanbase. First of all, most of them are young girls, and not a small number of them are lesbians, and not a small number of them are lesbians who are in love with Carrie Brownstein, or as I like to call them, the Insane Carrie Posse. Case in point: during the show, there was this girl on the far right of the edge of the stage, a few folks away from me who for half of Sleater-Kinneys set, was yelling Carries name over again over again. Not a big deal, except she started throwing in Carrie! I love you, I REALLY love you and mean it seriously! Again, not a big deal until you saw her face and saw that it wasnt just Beatlemania style, but more like I will cut you up and keep you in my fridge so I can lovingly pat your head at night style. Of course, it was painfully obvious that after a while Carrie was trying to just ignore her, and every few minutes, Id throw a glance at Crazy Lesbian, and noticed she stopped yelling out Carries name, but instead was glaring at Carrie with the hatred and resentment of an utterly rejected and broken heart. I mean, on one level, its just sad and hilariously pathetic. On another level, its REALLY disturbing. So after a while, I just ignored the hoohah, even though it was like a mini soap opera going on during the rock show. [ I'm going to ignore the whole "crazy lesbian" word usage and avoid controversy. That said, I kinda felt bad for this girl. She was being incredibly emotional, but I really doubt she was dangerous. I think 3/4ths that room (girls and guys alike, really) had a crush on Carrie, who as the single, available lesbian in the band, is just a lightning rod for this sort of thing now. I'm sure her fanmail just went off the hook once Corin got married. ]

So finally, Sleater-Kinney finishes their encore, and I look over at Crazy Lesbian, who takes the opportunity to try and leap up on stage to chase after Carrie. But before she can get Brownsteins name out of her mouth, and before she can get that second leg up onto the stage, Big Black Security Guy grabs her by the back of her wifebeater and yanks her back and down. It looked hilariously like a cartoon, as if she had been yanked by some invisible bungee cord, and I mean with the full effect of both arms and legs shooting into the air from inertia as shes dragged back down and off stage while getting her word Carri–! cut off and her forward motion completely redirected to the opposite direction. [ Now that Charlie's officially offended every lesbian and Black person in the world, let's get back to Sleater-Kinney. ]

Anyway, after that entertainment, I made my way to the merch table, where I was to pick up a shirt for a friend of mine, as well as some swag for myself.

In literally what had to have been going from stage to merch table, was Janet Weiss, wheeling and dealing. This was only the start of what quickly became obvious about Janet being the hardest working member of the band. First of all, shes an insanely proficient and talented drummer. To the point where she makes it look absolutely effortless with the way she attacks her drumkit and beats the shit out of them in perfect metronome timing with all them complex fills and beats, LIKE A MACHINE. On top of that, during night twos encore, SK covered Promised Land by Bruce Springsteen, where Janet played harmonica while playing drums. Now, having messed around on both the harmonica and fucking around on drums, my brain still cant process how you can do both at the same time. I mean, Im sure its hard enough singing backup while drumming, but harmonica requires you to move your head and breathe, and adding something physically taxing like drumming must make it that much harder. My friend speculated she mustve learned how to play didgeridoo or something, where you have to pick up circular breathing in order to make it work. [ I'm not a huge drummer fan, but Janet is just mindblowingly good. She uses a relatively small kit and extracts maximum impact and melody out of it, mostly by extensive use of the toms. I've never seen anyone as good live with the possible exception of Pete Thomas of the Attractions. ]

So after giving Janet my money at the merch table, I got a picture with her because again, I am a dweeb and needed a memento, which of course is a photo, because Im aZian. [ As the person taking the picture, I'd like to mention that I completely botched the first attempt by accidently covering the flash with my newly bought S-K stickers. Janet was gracious enough to take another picture. She looked a lot happier in the first though. ]

She was kind enough to agree, and said oh yeah, you were rocking out last night too.

Yeah, and uh, I think were *cough* gonna be there at the show in Pomona too..

Im pretty sure Janet thought we were losers but ah well, were helping pay her bills. [ I'm pretty sure everyone thinks we're losers now. Especially everyone reading this. ]

Day three:

So night one and two left us so pleased with the Sleater-Kinney concert experience that we decided to go for night three. Obsessive? Probably. Still, its one of my favorite bands and we figured we might as well go for the hat trick.

Night three took place at the Glass House in Pomona, a venue Id only heard of, because it seems like a lot of bands play there, despite it being way the hell out east in the Inland Empire, about an hour away from Los Angeles. [ I jokingly called the place the Ass House, mostly because I'm a child and couldn't resist that joke. It became strikingly prophetic, though. ]

Dear people of Pomona, 909 pride aside, your town is ass. Theres nothing to do there, your hip district is a failed wasteland of bad restaurants, unhip hipster hangouts, and your gutter punks are far too polite and rich to be truly menacing.

Walking around Pomona, it seriously felt like I had fallen into some time warp or something, and that Pomona was the town that time forgot. I half expected to run into Winnie Cooper and have Daniel Stern narrating inside my head.

Anyway.

Waiting in line in front of the Glass House was interesting, if for nothing else the interesting parade of characters that walked in front of us sporadically. First there were the aforementioned gutterpunks who kept to themselves across the street, trying to act menacing but failing miserably at it. Then there was Sleater-Kinney themselves who I swear walked in front of us at least 5 or 10 times, apparently desperate to find a boutique store or something to occupy their time with until their show. [ And can I just say, I think Carrie looks about a foot taller with a guitar in her hands. I guess it's true what they say. Charisma adds about a foot in height. ] And finally, my personal favorite, was the evangelical preacher dude dressed in head to toe in white yelling at everyone about Jesus this, and Hell that and can I get a hallelujah and that noise. First of all, being an atheist, I have a biased view on such things, but if I were a Christian, I would think that the quest to convert everyone would be better fought through politeness, rather than obnoxious yelling and wild gesticulating. One of the better moments was seeing Black But Dressed In White Preacher Man walk right past Corin Tucker, who looked completely confused as to what the hell was going on, and what godforsaken shithole she was playing at. Comedy gold. This was to be the first of many strange and obnoxious happenings at the Glass House. I blame Pomona. [ Preacher man cracked me up. Mostly because he said everything in kind of a Caribbean accent. It made me want to smoke weed and praise Jesus at the same time. ]

Shannon Wright opened first, then the Bangs, then Sleater-Kinney. No Quails, which I was surprised to be slightly disappointed they werent playing, because their cute pop-punk was more infectious than I previously thought. Especially that bus riding song of theirs.

Shannon Wrights performance on night three was best out of her sets during the week, mainly because it seemed the crowd was more receptive this time around, and she really knocked out her songs with a little more enthusiasm than the previous two shows. During the quiet bits of her songs, you literally could hear dead silence in the whole venue. It was pretty cool.

Unfortunately, after she finished, I found out that apparently only a few people behind me, some guy had gotten so drunk that he whipped his bad one out and took a whiz right there on the floor. There was like this faux parting of the audience around the piss puddle this guy had left. It was mildly disconcerting, considering he was probably only around 4 or 5 people deep away from me, and there definitely was the possibility that I mightve gotten nailed. And boy, would that have ruined the night for me. [ Peeing on fellow concert goers is just about the worst thing you could do. Indeed, it may possibly be worse than vomiting, as vomiting is usually out of your control. This happened at the Austin show, and most everyone just felt bad for the pukey girl. As opposed to the peeing dude, where everyone was just PISSED. Um. no. pun. there. move. along. ]

Next on was Bangs, who, rocked the shit out of me with their tight power pop punk songs. Fronted by singer/guitarist Sarah Utter and bassist Maggie Veil, there really isnt anything better than cute girls rockin out while firing off the hot licks [sorry drummer dude, youre just not pretty enough]. [ Dude, that sux. Peter David Connelly (I think that's his name, he's got three names serial thriller style), he's a great drummer. Bangs have been going through dude drummers like Spinal Tap though. Hope Peter can hang around. ] Not exactly reinventing the wheel, they basically draw from The Ramones and Bikini Kill, and throwing in a little splash of metal and Cheap Trick. A shitload of fun, and theyve got a few rockin motherfuckers in their arsenal of songs, notably Dirty Knives, New Scars, I Want More, and Sweet Revenge. I highly recommend picking up their latest EP, Call & Response. It definitely rocks. In fact, I enjoyed the Bangs so much Ive literally been playing their songs on repeat since the concert. But last thing I need is another girl band to obsess over. [ Bangs Bangs Bangs Superfan #1 Toru rocks the house! ]

So at last was the final set of my week with Sleater-Kinney. I wish I could say that it was a vast improvement over the previous two nights, and that it was a shitload more rockin, but I cant. Mainly because weird things kept happening which really throw off the energy of the show somewhat. There were some guitar tech problems with Carries rig, where during the big solo bit in Step Aside one of her cables in her pedal rig fizzled out or got disconnected, which left Corin stuck trying to adlib to dead guitar air. Carrie was pretty exasperated, and had a small nervous breakdown on stage, throwing her hands up, before one of the guitar techs she was yelling at ran off stage and grabbed a fresh cable for her to hook up directly to her amp. [ This was superduper sad to watch. Genius rendered mute by a measly guitar cable. Sniff. ]

Also, apparently during the show, someone or someones were throwing nickels at the stage. Which makes me wonder why youd pay money to see a band if you dont like them to the point of throwing shit at them. [ Oh yeah, and fuck you to whoever was throwing nickels. ]

Unless of course, it was Crazy Lesbian from night two, then it all becomes clear.

On the plus side, we were up in front again, and in front of Carrie this time, instead of Corin, which means I got to witness firsthand all them trademark guitar moves she makes so damned cool. From the Pete Townsend windmills, to the karate kick pirouhettes, to the jumping, and the hip gyrating, she really throws out all them classic geetar moves into her mix, along with her insanely precise fretwork.

Unfortunately, between the urination, the nickel throwing, the inevitable crazy lesbians proclaiming love for Carrie, I think she called the show short because they didnt do their cover of Private Idaho, which we could hear earlier that afternoon outside while they were soundchecking. [ Don't forget the random sock that ended up on stage. I swear I'm bringing a giant bra (Jason Cornett style) to the show and tossing it up on stage, just to show my support. there. is. no. pun. ]

Not to say that it was a bad show, its just that night three paled in comparison to the first two night in the Highlands. And it was out in Pomona. [ Pomona almost made me cry it was so weird. ]

But yay! I got my extended cut of Dig Me Out in the end.

So that was my week with Sleater-Kinney. 3 shows in one week, 5 shows total in seven months. And I cant wait until they tour again, because over the last couple years, they really have become one of my favorite bands. When you strip away all the hype and constant critical acclaim, Sleater-Kinney really is just a really damned good rock band. [ Ignore the hype and just listen. All this "Greatest Band in the World" stuff only gives people an excuse to dismiss them on some kind of bizarro "I'm cooler than the media' posturing. ]

This is a three piece band who have one of the fullest sounds in all of rock despite having no bass because they rendered it irrelevant. How do they get that heavy riffage? By simply turning down their guitars three half-steps, and boosting the EQ on the rhythm [Corins] guitar, who alternates between the power chording rhythm and single note faux bass playing. Theyve also got one of the most consistent and precise drummers in the field with Janet, who hits the drums like shes firing a machine gun with cold accuracy.

And then theres Carrie.

While not the first guitarist people think of when you picture the quintessential guitar hero, shes probably my favorite guitarist out there because she takes the Billy Zoom of X attitude of making everything look effortless, with the simplistically complex [yeah, its a contradiction, but it makes sense. Trust me.] guitar lines twisted with Corins bass/rhythm guitar which evokes the stuff Tom Verlaine and Richard Lloyd were doing in Television. And she throws in the fun of all that Pete Townsend-style rock guitar antics and dance moves. [ Carrie's my favorite, in case anyone was taking notes at home. I am a card carrying member of the Insane Carrie Posse. The fact that Vegas Jones keeps bumping into her at the post office in the PDX bothers me to no end. The fact that he doesn't really like them that much and I keep yapping anyway bothers him, so it all evens out. ]

When you add up all that technical talent, and throw in a wealth of punk and classic rock history, along with genuine emotion and passion, as well as a clear evolution of sound from album to album, you pretty much have the perfect rock and roll band.

If you still need more Sleater-Kinney, fellow Sleater-Kinney stalker Han [ I am not a stalker! ] is running a blog for the One Beat tour here: http://sk.grumblemutterspit.org/

And the rest of the pics from my three nights are here:

9/18/02 – The Highlands / Hollywood, CA.
9/19/02 – The Highlands / Hollywood, CA.
9/21/02 – The Glass House / Pomona [aka Asshole of the World], CA.

Posted in From Blown Speakers