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Friday Top 5
Nov. 6th, 2009 11:27 amTop 5 Shows I've Seen
Inspired by this recent entry by![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
joelarnold, I thought I'd make my own list of the best shows I've seen.
1. Hüsker Dü at the Ritz, NYC (October 17, 1987)
The only reason I remember the exact date was that it was Bob Mould's birthday. They opened with "New Day Rising" and went straight into "Girl Who Lives on Heaven Hill." Bob looked like he was going to fly of the stage the way he lunged and lurched, pulled along by his Flying V, as a barefoot Grant screamed and pounded his drums and Greg bounced around wearing a Twins cap (it was the first night of the World Series, and the band didn't go on until they'd watched the Twins defeat the cards in Game 1). The two highlights of the night were "Divide and Conquer," which they closed their first set with, and "Keep Hanging On," which they started their last encore with (you can hear it on the live cd, The Living End). As they started playing the latter song, Grant yelled out, "Happy Birthday, Bob!" and a shower of silver confetti sailed through the air, catching the light as it sparkled and glimmered to the floor and surrounded a beatifically smiling Bob in a sea of glittering stars. Twenty-two years later, this is still the best show I've ever seen by any band, bar none.
2. Uncle Tupelo at the CBGB's Record Store Annex, NYC (Fall, 1989)
Grant Hart was supposed to play this show but pulled out at the last minute. I didn't find that out until the day of the show, though, after my friend Matt had travelled from Connecticut to see him. With nothing else to do, we went to the show anyway. It was part of the yearly CMJ music festival and because of that, each show was filled with a ton of artists. This one happened to be kind of lame, with Roger Manning (the anti-folk singer, which meant that he played folk music with an acoustic guitar but did it loudly) and John Wesley Harding (whose stage presence made up for the mediocrity of his songs -- he really was quite funny). Now in New York, there are warm-up bands just like everywhere else, but if you stay after the headliner, you'll usually see the warm-down band. In some cases, it's a lame little known band that you'd just as soon forget. In other cases, it's a band destined for something better than a 3 am time slot in a tiny club. When Uncle Tupelo came out, we expected to see crap. After all, they had no records, were from Missouri or Illinois or some other fly-over state, and they had a really dumb name. But goddamn could they rock. I'd never heard anything quite like them, and though they only played to a handful of us, they left it all out on the stage that night. Afterward, my friend and I went to talk to them (all right -- we went to rant and rave to them about how awesome they were) and were doubly surprised by how nice they were. A year later, we saw them in Amherst, Mass. where they got my friend in for free because he'd left his ID at home and dedicated the set to him.
3. Butthole Surfers at the Lyric, NYC (Spring, 1990)
I saw them twice, and though the first show featured Gibby nearly setting fire to the ceiling of the Ritz (after the band had lit a total of nine guitars on fire and then promptly smashed each and every one), this one stands out more to me. Maybe it was the fact that they were playing in Times Square (before it had been cleaned up) or maybe it was the right combination of chemicals that night, but the show was one of the most organic, surreal experiences I've had. The highlight of the night was "Sweat Loaf" where instead of the "What does regret mean?" intro, Gibby ranted about how much he loved Pat Sajak and then a giant image of the Wheel of Fortune host flashed on the giant movie screen behind them, over and over.
4. Mission of Burma at First Avenue, Minneapolis (Fall 2002)
There are some bands who get back together after twenty years and when you go to see them, you think maybe they should have stayed broken up. This was most definitely not true of MoB. Yes, they played "That's When I Reach for My Revolver" and "Fame and Fortune." Yes, it was amazing to hear those songs and others played live. No, it was not a nostalgia trip -- they sounded as fresh and vibrant as any new band out there. For me, the highlight of the night was when they came out for an encore and started with "The Ballad of Johnny Burma." It felt like the band literally picked me up off my feet and threw me into a crowd of pogoers. It's one of the best music moments I've had this decade.
5. Delta Spirit at 7th Street Entry, Minneapolis (Winter 2009)
I almost didn't get to see this band because it was sold out five minutes after the doors opened (note to self: buy tickets in advance from now on). I walked around and rode light rail for about an hour and a half and then came back, hoping there might be some left over tickets because the woman at the door said there might. There weren't, but there was a group with an extra ticket who sold it to me, and I'm eternally grateful they did. The band was the pure essence of rock and roll is and can be -- shouting, yelling, rolling on the floor, jumping, lunging, screaming. The show ended with the singer jumping into the audience and grabbing people to get them to dance with him. As the PA came on playing someone else's song, he was still there, jumping and shouting in a throng of show-goers who'd just witnessed the promise of musical salvation.
Inspired by this recent entry by
joelarnold, I thought I'd make my own list of the best shows I've seen.1. Hüsker Dü at the Ritz, NYC (October 17, 1987)
The only reason I remember the exact date was that it was Bob Mould's birthday. They opened with "New Day Rising" and went straight into "Girl Who Lives on Heaven Hill." Bob looked like he was going to fly of the stage the way he lunged and lurched, pulled along by his Flying V, as a barefoot Grant screamed and pounded his drums and Greg bounced around wearing a Twins cap (it was the first night of the World Series, and the band didn't go on until they'd watched the Twins defeat the cards in Game 1). The two highlights of the night were "Divide and Conquer," which they closed their first set with, and "Keep Hanging On," which they started their last encore with (you can hear it on the live cd, The Living End). As they started playing the latter song, Grant yelled out, "Happy Birthday, Bob!" and a shower of silver confetti sailed through the air, catching the light as it sparkled and glimmered to the floor and surrounded a beatifically smiling Bob in a sea of glittering stars. Twenty-two years later, this is still the best show I've ever seen by any band, bar none.
2. Uncle Tupelo at the CBGB's Record Store Annex, NYC (Fall, 1989)
Grant Hart was supposed to play this show but pulled out at the last minute. I didn't find that out until the day of the show, though, after my friend Matt had travelled from Connecticut to see him. With nothing else to do, we went to the show anyway. It was part of the yearly CMJ music festival and because of that, each show was filled with a ton of artists. This one happened to be kind of lame, with Roger Manning (the anti-folk singer, which meant that he played folk music with an acoustic guitar but did it loudly) and John Wesley Harding (whose stage presence made up for the mediocrity of his songs -- he really was quite funny). Now in New York, there are warm-up bands just like everywhere else, but if you stay after the headliner, you'll usually see the warm-down band. In some cases, it's a lame little known band that you'd just as soon forget. In other cases, it's a band destined for something better than a 3 am time slot in a tiny club. When Uncle Tupelo came out, we expected to see crap. After all, they had no records, were from Missouri or Illinois or some other fly-over state, and they had a really dumb name. But goddamn could they rock. I'd never heard anything quite like them, and though they only played to a handful of us, they left it all out on the stage that night. Afterward, my friend and I went to talk to them (all right -- we went to rant and rave to them about how awesome they were) and were doubly surprised by how nice they were. A year later, we saw them in Amherst, Mass. where they got my friend in for free because he'd left his ID at home and dedicated the set to him.
3. Butthole Surfers at the Lyric, NYC (Spring, 1990)
I saw them twice, and though the first show featured Gibby nearly setting fire to the ceiling of the Ritz (after the band had lit a total of nine guitars on fire and then promptly smashed each and every one), this one stands out more to me. Maybe it was the fact that they were playing in Times Square (before it had been cleaned up) or maybe it was the right combination of chemicals that night, but the show was one of the most organic, surreal experiences I've had. The highlight of the night was "Sweat Loaf" where instead of the "What does regret mean?" intro, Gibby ranted about how much he loved Pat Sajak and then a giant image of the Wheel of Fortune host flashed on the giant movie screen behind them, over and over.
4. Mission of Burma at First Avenue, Minneapolis (Fall 2002)
There are some bands who get back together after twenty years and when you go to see them, you think maybe they should have stayed broken up. This was most definitely not true of MoB. Yes, they played "That's When I Reach for My Revolver" and "Fame and Fortune." Yes, it was amazing to hear those songs and others played live. No, it was not a nostalgia trip -- they sounded as fresh and vibrant as any new band out there. For me, the highlight of the night was when they came out for an encore and started with "The Ballad of Johnny Burma." It felt like the band literally picked me up off my feet and threw me into a crowd of pogoers. It's one of the best music moments I've had this decade.
5. Delta Spirit at 7th Street Entry, Minneapolis (Winter 2009)
I almost didn't get to see this band because it was sold out five minutes after the doors opened (note to self: buy tickets in advance from now on). I walked around and rode light rail for about an hour and a half and then came back, hoping there might be some left over tickets because the woman at the door said there might. There weren't, but there was a group with an extra ticket who sold it to me, and I'm eternally grateful they did. The band was the pure essence of rock and roll is and can be -- shouting, yelling, rolling on the floor, jumping, lunging, screaming. The show ended with the singer jumping into the audience and grabbing people to get them to dance with him. As the PA came on playing someone else's song, he was still there, jumping and shouting in a throng of show-goers who'd just witnessed the promise of musical salvation.
