Holidays in the Sun
It is beyond bizarre for a punk band to play a show outside at 9:30 on a Tuesday morning. Sunlight? Little kids chasing mylar balloons? Fresh air? Ok, not so fresh air. (And if you're thinking: Park = pigeons and starlings and sparrows, think again. There aren't any. I'll get back to you when I find out why.)
But then, it's all been beyond bizarre.
The negotiation over the length of the set has stabilized at 55 minutes. The Urinals go on first, then the Blou Band from Halifax, Nova Scotia. They are a great bunch of guys--real musicians, very proficient. They do Acadian / Cajun / Zydeco music. Oh boy. Fun dancey music.
The crowd in the park looks a little thin, and at the last minute Emily tries to get the order reversed on the bill, but there's a billboard on the front of the stage with the band listing. No go. As soon as the MC comes on, people begin to pour over--there are three other stages, no other bands have started.
This crowd is here for the spectacle, not the music. Clearly they are not western pop music fans. Still, the sound is actually good. The band's energy is good. One guy even starts dancing. Brave soul. All eyes and cameras are on him. Another guy--drunk, I think--does cartwheels. It's Golden Week! The sun is shining! It's a holiday! Wheeee!
It's a great set, and the band blazes through it. It is received enthusiastically. When it's over, I run backstage. Rod is unplugging the guitar. The drum set is being assembled for Blou. Emily comes up to me, "too short! too short!" She says, "the band didn't play long enough. Tell them to go back on."
"That was a whole set," I say.
"They have to go back on, play ten more minutes." Emily is very agitated.
"That's ridiculous."
I'm not the band's manager. I'm just along for the ride. "Talk to Haonan," I say. "See what he says." Chaos is swirling around. Blou starts setting up. John, Rod, and Kevin waver. "We can do it, but what songs do we do?" "Ack ack ack ack?" "'Beautiful Again,' again?" "We can do the first four songs in the set again--no one would know the difference." "Ok, ok." They try to go back on, but Blou is out there and their interpreter is introducing them. That's settled then. No stupid little coda to the set.
Blou are great, and they really know how to work the crowd, teaching them to siing along with "Oh, Madeleine." They even try to get the crowd dancing. It doesn't work too well. But there are some foreigners out there bopping along, so it goes over great. John wanders off to see the Russki pop band, but I stay for Blou. I explain to Hounan that my mother is from the place where this kind of music is from, but he doesn't know where Louisiana or New Orleans is. He's going to a program in Pittsburgh at the Carnegie so I tell him he MUST go to New Orleans while he's in the states.
After Blou's set, I go backstage to help carry the gear to the van. Rod is upset: Emily has disappeared.
But then, it's all been beyond bizarre.
The negotiation over the length of the set has stabilized at 55 minutes. The Urinals go on first, then the Blou Band from Halifax, Nova Scotia. They are a great bunch of guys--real musicians, very proficient. They do Acadian / Cajun / Zydeco music. Oh boy. Fun dancey music.
The crowd in the park looks a little thin, and at the last minute Emily tries to get the order reversed on the bill, but there's a billboard on the front of the stage with the band listing. No go. As soon as the MC comes on, people begin to pour over--there are three other stages, no other bands have started.
This crowd is here for the spectacle, not the music. Clearly they are not western pop music fans. Still, the sound is actually good. The band's energy is good. One guy even starts dancing. Brave soul. All eyes and cameras are on him. Another guy--drunk, I think--does cartwheels. It's Golden Week! The sun is shining! It's a holiday! Wheeee!
It's a great set, and the band blazes through it. It is received enthusiastically. When it's over, I run backstage. Rod is unplugging the guitar. The drum set is being assembled for Blou. Emily comes up to me, "too short! too short!" She says, "the band didn't play long enough. Tell them to go back on."
"That was a whole set," I say.
"They have to go back on, play ten more minutes." Emily is very agitated.
"That's ridiculous."
I'm not the band's manager. I'm just along for the ride. "Talk to Haonan," I say. "See what he says." Chaos is swirling around. Blou starts setting up. John, Rod, and Kevin waver. "We can do it, but what songs do we do?" "Ack ack ack ack?" "'Beautiful Again,' again?" "We can do the first four songs in the set again--no one would know the difference." "Ok, ok." They try to go back on, but Blou is out there and their interpreter is introducing them. That's settled then. No stupid little coda to the set.
Blou are great, and they really know how to work the crowd, teaching them to siing along with "Oh, Madeleine." They even try to get the crowd dancing. It doesn't work too well. But there are some foreigners out there bopping along, so it goes over great. John wanders off to see the Russki pop band, but I stay for Blou. I explain to Hounan that my mother is from the place where this kind of music is from, but he doesn't know where Louisiana or New Orleans is. He's going to a program in Pittsburgh at the Carnegie so I tell him he MUST go to New Orleans while he's in the states.
After Blou's set, I go backstage to help carry the gear to the van. Rod is upset: Emily has disappeared.
posted by Kat at 3:32 PM
1 Comments:
Wow! It's so exciting. Punk at 9:30 in the morning. In the sunlight. I think you guys are really breaking the boundaries of your idiom.
I'm glad the sound was good this time. Do you have any more performances? I'm a little unclear on the schedule. I've also been aching for a shot of the band actually playing. I guess you're too busy doing the videotaping...
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