Stumbling On Happiness
What appeared to be a very successful Music Fest Northwest (MFNW) has just wrapped up here in Portland. Because of scheduling conflicts, I only managed to see a band or two -- Bodies of Water/Deerhunter and Spoon's Britt Daniel solo -- so I have little in the way of reviews. At a particularly fragrant and crammed Wonder Ballroom show, a friend joked that I would likely blog about body odor. There, I just did.
Aside from the perplexing but bold Lycra body suit worn by Bodies of Water's singer (replete with Capezio dance shoes, no less), the thought that lingered with me post-MFNW has to do with bands playing shows in which they perform a single album in its entirety. At MFNW, Built to Spill was in town to perform its epic Perfect From Now On.
As I'm sure many of you have read, or maybe even witnessed, the phenomenon of bands playing their most revered album live has become a bit of a trend at festivals, with everyone from Sonic Youth to Public Enemy climbing on board.
In theory, I'm drawn to this idea. Distill a sound and a moment. Hear the songs in the proper context and in relation to the rest of the artistic output from that time period. Gain insight into the intention and the themes. Basically, shine a light on a singular point of a journey.
Particularly with sequencing and the notion of an entire album being rendered nearly obsolete these days, a live performance of an album forces the listener to discover or rediscover the importance of one song as part of a whole. More understated songs reveal themselves as fulcrums, while popular tunes are exposed as culminations rather than exceptions. The performance of an entire album is a sentence compared to a regular set list, which often consists of stringing together phrases. (The best set lists, of course, do this seamlessly.)
Yet it's important to note that these performances are not occurring concomitant to the release of the album. The aim here is to look back -- and, hopefully, to reignite. So I imagine that the most successful performances in this context require a desire to re-explore on the part of not only the band, but also the audience.
As fans, we all have had the inclination to hear the old songs; in fact, we often grow bored with the unfamiliarity of newness, of experimentation and growth. So, do we want our favorite sonic moments encapsulated and reborn? Or does it remind us that, with our most beloved bands, our affection is stretched out across years and across albums? And are we still able to be surprised when we know what the set list is? Lastly, are there specific albums you'd like to see performed?
I want to end this post by illustrating my penchant for contradiction. All weekend, an excellent music festival took place in my city. And, as I mentioned, I missed most of it. Yet last night, on a stroll along the eastside esplanade, I stumbled across a crowd of crusty punks, hippies and dogs on ropes -- their faces aglow from a man juggling fire. I wandered in further and ended up in front of a stage where a band wearing gnome and fairy outfits was playing. The audience consisted mostly of bare-chested interpretive dancers. I wanted to leave as soon as I got there. But I was also excited by the possibility of not knowing what was going to happen next.
The festival turned out to be this:
12:06 PM ET | 09- 8-2008 | permalink
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