The Jaws of Victory
All Monday afternoon there's been negotation over the length of the night's set and who was going to perform when. Two forty minute sets with the Azerbaijani dancers in between. The Azerbaijani dancers first. One 50-minute set with a ten minute rest break. Rod tries to explain, not very patiently, that the dynamic of the set builds and that the band would prefer one longer set without breaks. John is constantly writing and rewriting set lists. All the festival organizers and staff boss each other and the bands around. Because we can't read the badges, we have no idea who the chief is and who is a subassistant water carrier.
Finally it's settled. Urinals first, a 50 minute set, a little long for them. Then the Azerbaijani dancers. The dancers are peeved, but because Emily has pull, that's the way it is. They go on 7.30ish in the dusk.
Kevin Cain has been filming the shebang, and he gave me a DAT recorder and a long directional mike to record the evening performance. The MC, a young woman who doesn't simper like the other announcers, gets the crowd whipped up. And is there a crowd! They go nuts at the end of each song, even though the guitar is once again inaudible. And no drums. The sound guy fixes the guitar after three songs, but the drums never do.
It doesn't matter. The crowd, who seem to understand the rock idiom, clap wildly. They don't dance or even tap their feet during the songs, though. Rod really feeds off the energy and rocks out. They do "I'm a Bug" in Mandarin, which doesn't make much impression because it's so out of left field. Emily bustles up and tells me to tell Kevin Cain to film from the crowd, not the stage. I tell her I have to stand out in the audience and that she can go tell him herself.
I could go, though. I can tell the recording I'm making is going to be terrible. The sound is bad off the stage and the Gobi wind whips through every few minutes. The bumper cars are off to my left and that throws in more noise. It's starting to get chilly but the crowds at the park are still having fun--there's still fresh smoke off the grills and the rides are roaring away, neon glowing.
When they break into "Beautiful Again," a girl near me shouts "I love you!" Too weird. When it's over, the band leaves the stage. The MC gets the crowd shouting "Ur nou! Ur nou! Ur nou!" (Distant Promise!) They come back on and do an encore, beaming. The Azeris tap their feet impatiently in the wings. This is eating into their time.
Carrying the gear back to the van, the band is stopped a few times by kids who want to take their photos, get their autographs. They even want my picture. Rod and Emily lag behind. Emily is telling Rod they should have played two twenty minute sets, that the long set tired the audience. "Emily," I say, "you should be very proud! It was a great set! They got a great response. You did a great job. You should be happy." "No," Emily said, "they play too long." Rod has a long face. "Yeah, whatever," I say. Isn't it amazing how some people can snatch defeat from the jaws of victory?
Finally it's settled. Urinals first, a 50 minute set, a little long for them. Then the Azerbaijani dancers. The dancers are peeved, but because Emily has pull, that's the way it is. They go on 7.30ish in the dusk.
Kevin Cain has been filming the shebang, and he gave me a DAT recorder and a long directional mike to record the evening performance. The MC, a young woman who doesn't simper like the other announcers, gets the crowd whipped up. And is there a crowd! They go nuts at the end of each song, even though the guitar is once again inaudible. And no drums. The sound guy fixes the guitar after three songs, but the drums never do.
It doesn't matter. The crowd, who seem to understand the rock idiom, clap wildly. They don't dance or even tap their feet during the songs, though. Rod really feeds off the energy and rocks out. They do "I'm a Bug" in Mandarin, which doesn't make much impression because it's so out of left field. Emily bustles up and tells me to tell Kevin Cain to film from the crowd, not the stage. I tell her I have to stand out in the audience and that she can go tell him herself.
I could go, though. I can tell the recording I'm making is going to be terrible. The sound is bad off the stage and the Gobi wind whips through every few minutes. The bumper cars are off to my left and that throws in more noise. It's starting to get chilly but the crowds at the park are still having fun--there's still fresh smoke off the grills and the rides are roaring away, neon glowing.
When they break into "Beautiful Again," a girl near me shouts "I love you!" Too weird. When it's over, the band leaves the stage. The MC gets the crowd shouting "Ur nou! Ur nou! Ur nou!" (Distant Promise!) They come back on and do an encore, beaming. The Azeris tap their feet impatiently in the wings. This is eating into their time.
Carrying the gear back to the van, the band is stopped a few times by kids who want to take their photos, get their autographs. They even want my picture. Rod and Emily lag behind. Emily is telling Rod they should have played two twenty minute sets, that the long set tired the audience. "Emily," I say, "you should be very proud! It was a great set! They got a great response. You did a great job. You should be happy." "No," Emily said, "they play too long." Rod has a long face. "Yeah, whatever," I say. Isn't it amazing how some people can snatch defeat from the jaws of victory?
posted by Kat at 2:56 PM
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