Ye Animals Collected

A particular brand of snobbishness washes over me when I ask someone about a recent gig they've been to. Well, actually, I don't ask, I usually see it posted in Facebook when I have nothing better to do. How often have you seen a post in a social networking site saying '_____were fucking amazing'? It's a phenomenon that's entirely responsible for how obsolete the phrase has now become.  An expression that, despite containing an expletive, has become as startling as a ham sandwich. When people don't go to gigs often, or indeed only once in their lifetime, they don't really know what to expect. The fact that the sound levels varied, or the fact that the lead singer couldn't hold a note and forgot half of the lyrics count for nothing, washed away by the excitement of seeing a bunch of people you're used to seeing in pictures and digitally compressed MP3s in your music collection. Because they played a handful of songs you know, the excitement was so much that the '____ were fucking amazing! :)' garble can consider itself posted five seconds into the first song of the night.

But I'm not saying I'm better than anyone else. I know about this phenomenon simply because I've been in this position a lot. It really does happen to everyone. You can only cut through the wave of bullshit when you get over your awe and properly see it for what it is.

Which is why I feel weird about reviewing live music, or anything for that matter. If I ever hint that I know what I'm talking about when it comes to music, then I deserve a smack. Because I don't, it's all bullshit at the end of the day. I try my best, but music isn't really something that can properly expressed by using words. And so I'm always slightly nervous when I'm expected to review a live performance, I don't know if my appreciation is coming from the adrenaline rush of being in the middle of a thumping gig with songs that I know being played, or if the band is actually decent. If I start to be overly pessimistic for the sake of it, who is to say the band weren't 'fucking amazing', you know?

So, taking this all into consideration, it's a good thing I wasn't asked to do a live review for Animal Collective's performance in Glasgow. Analysis is sometimes overrated. Sometimes you just want to get caught up in the whole experience. Just before seeing the group I excitedly explained to the unfortunate friend I'd dragged along that Animal Collective for me, were what the Beatles were to a teenage girl in the year of 1966. I love their albums, their innovativeness, the sheer joy one can experience from a bouncing, throbbing, Animal Collective track. There's Geologist, like a grinning, bopping Ringo, never seen on stage without his trademark headlamp which he uses to see all his equipment that makes the bleeps and blops. There's Avey Tare, yelping, jerking and screaming behind a stack of keyboards about adobe slatz and dinosaur anatomy. He has blue hair for the set, and mumbles something about eating meatloaf every day between songs, perhaps not realising that the closest Glasgwegians have come to eating such a dish is a slithering, undercooked square sausage. Panda Bear, plonked behind a drumkit, immersing the audience in his beautiful, yet melancholic voice has a brilliant vocal range and a great knack for drumming to boot. And how can we forget Joshua Caleb Dibb, aka Deakin aka 'The Deak'? The band's latest album, Centipede Hz, saw him return to the group after his non appearance on the brilliant Merriweather Post Pavilion album. Despite his absence apparently being brought on by AnCo's rigorous touring, he seems to be the happiest there, twisting his long face into a contented smile, and twirling in the middle of the stage with his guitar like a nerdy Pete Townsend.

But when Animal Collective do come on stage, the feeling that grabs me isn't the twinkle in my gut of being a fanboy. I didn't quite know what it was, but at the expense of sounding like an arsehole, it was good. I don't know if it was the pre-gig joint kicking in, but it felt right. The sounds were jarring the air around me rather than falling at peace with the world. Songs swung into one another like a pendulum, the band barely ever taking a break. It was mostly new material, but it stood up by itself, without needing any sentimental garbage to support it as being a right jolly jape. That said, the sentimental garbage was also great. Animal Collective aren't really a band that goes far into their back catalogue, but Peacebone, Brother Sport and My Girls, all got airings, each of them performed with a refreshingly new slant on the studio versions. I don't know if it's just my impatience, but the slower, more mournful songs weren't as exciting. That said, some songs really needed Panda Bear's fruity voice, glistening over an improvised, ambient space in the set in order to properly build up the next song. And the venue, the ABC in Glasgow, couldn't really handle certain sounds the band made. The sound system sighed as it's generic indie-pop sensibilities were crushed by the wall of strange noises produced by The Deak and his backing band. Even gig security continued to greet the band's performance with unimpressed frowns and sceptical stares.

So what can you really say in conclusion when you've been to a live performance? The £25 you've spent on the hotel, the £10 you've spent on the bus, the £5 you've spent on alcohol and/or drugs, and of course the £20 on the gig ticket itself is gone in 3 hours. When you see through the glaze, bands often disappoint, and if they don't, either an arsehole at the gig, or the sound system will mar the experience. It's also a drag for the bands themselves, going to venues and performing the same songs day after day to an audience that just wants to hear their most popular track. But tours consistently attract people. It's always the highest source of income for bands, high above record sales and miles above the bronze coins they'll receive for having their songs streamed on Spotify. Seeing a band live can't be defended properly, reasoning stacks against it.

But I don't really care about the drawbacks. Momentary, spontaneous experiences are continually sought after by humans, regardless of consequences. Which is why people want museums, culture, etc. Money doesn't really come into it our experiences, or at least, we don't care when we're enjoying ourselves. It's funny that governments see art and entertainment as little more than a business that makes money, as demonstrated brilliantly by our Prime Minister. So all I'm saying is that gigs should be celebrated for what they are - an impracticality. I recommend the experience. Just don't tell me how it was.

Fester-val part TOO

The first thing that usually hits you about a music festival is the scale of the operation. 85,000 people attended T in the Park, and a large number of them were queuing up at the arena gates when I arrived on Thursday. It's a lot to take in. People talk about huge numbers every day, and can say in a casual manner that 10,000 records being sold isn't much. In my opinion, accountants should go to a large music festival. A greater appreciation and understanding of numbers is instantly achieved (and everything is 10 times the normal price so budgeting can keep them on their toes). And what a large variety of folk. Aggressive people, happy people, teenagers, dance-music lovers, metal-heads, junkies, hippies, families, couples and of course, me. By myself. I wonder now, looking back on the thing if I was the only person there by myself. It seems possible saying as how I never really met anyone camping on their own (and good god, I met just about everyone else, I even saw at least two guys also wearing yellow wellies).

It's pronounced DEADMOUSE. You'll get a slap
for saying DEAD-MAO 5

Which is not to say I didn't enjoy the experience. I do prefer social situations, but I can cope on my own. There was no-one to drag me along to see a band I didn't particularly want to see, and I could leave my tent as god damn messy as I wanted it to be. On the Thursday, I befriended two sound English guys by the names of Matt and Andy that I queued with, and ended up camping beside them. After setting up the tents, they relaxed in their camping chairs. I got progressively drunker and ran all around the massive campsite talking to everyone and dancing like an epileptic at the 'boom bus'. Every now and then I'd come back to the tent drunker, throwing  handfuls of stolen cigarette papers like confetti, wearing a husky hat that looked like I'd decapitated a dog and stuck it to my scalp. God knows what they thought of me. But I had many fantastic experiences. I lifted a stranger up on my shoulders and we sung a word perfect but very out-of tune 'Underwear' along with Jarvis Cocker during Pulp's set. I got very baked during Crystal Castle's set from the surprisingly large amount of people smoking marijuana around me, and I just let myself get pushed about the place with nothing more than a stupid grin on my face. And I'm not usually one for fireworks, but they seemed almost magical as Deadmau5's set drew to a close with a triumphant, yet ambient and subdued set closer. What can I say? I'll tell you what. I'm not going by my bloody self next year.

In other news, finding work experience is going badly, and finding another job is worse. And unfortunately for all you horny bloggers out there, thehesitantcalamari is no longer single. No more wrapping my tentacles around a ship for company any more. Thanks for reading!

p.s Having problems with life at the moment (e.g family, where I'm going to live etc) and things, but I'm going to try and not let it get in the way of the blog

Fester-val

Today I'm going to a 4 day music festival. I got my ticket at the very last minute. I am not travelling with anyone, and I am not meeting anyone there. I am effectively going on my own, purely for the fantastic line-up. Surely this wouldn't be something I'd ever want to repeat? Well, the thing is, I'm getting a heavy dose of deja-vu. Because I did the exact same thing for a music festival last year. And out of a field of thousands of people, I  coincidentally met someone I knew. And I got on pretty well with a bunch of strangers too. I'm a little doubtful I'll have the same luck this year, but I'm just going to put my optimistic face (which very rarely comes out) and wear my newly purchased Wellington boots, which looked a lot less gay in the shop.

This is quickly going to be a familiar sight with all that
poorly cooked, over priced festival cuisine

If you've never been to a music festival, it's hard to sum up with one word. If you pick the right one, it can mean seeing a fuck load of bands you really like, live (which I'm not going to go on about, I made a post about it before). And part of the excitement is seeing a band you've never really listened to and being really impressed (probably my favourite way of discovering new music). However, 50% of the goings on has nothing to do with the music. The campsite itself cannot really be described as such. The word campsite reminds me middle aged couples enjoying salmon sandwiches and flushing toilets as they gaze onto a lake in their £500 waterproof jackets. It would more accurate to say it is a world outside reality. With little in the way of police, there's a lot of drug taking and peeing everywhere. The madness is hardly a utopia, but it's an amazing social experience nonetheless, if you can avoid certain groups of people. The forecast is set to be rain all weekend, so hygiene levels are going to be particularly low (the only time I showered last year was to get piss out of my hair that had been thrown in a bottle during Rage Against the Machine's set). And just before I leave, I can see that it's beginning to rain already, which can only be a good omen.

Sorry if this was a lazy post, I'm rushing to type this just as I head out the door. The festival is T in the Park by the way, it's got less hard rock acts than I'd like, but I'm pretty excited about seeing a lot of the bands. Have a nice weekend, and thanks for reading!

Live and Dangerous

I was floating about different websites today, and I decided to check up on the websites of a few bands I've got into recently. Now, please, don't get me wrong. I'm terrible about keeping up to date with the folk that have wedged themselves into the charts and the bands that are 'hotly anticipated' for this year. But I've broken the trend recently. Somewhat. Maps & Atlases released my favourite album of 2010 (and aren't that well known apparently) and the Vaccines (one of those hotly tipped bands that haven't released an album yet) are a couple of my favourite bands just now. I was sceptical about the Vaccines. But their live performance was great. So much energy, and the lead singer performed without shoes, just in his socks. And I got their set list. But anyway. Maps & Atlases are yanks, and not that popular, so I thought it would be a while before they came to the UK. But lo and behold, they have a date in Scotland this month! I'm very pleased.

Let's face it, everyone paid the fee for Glastonbury
in 1995 to see Jarvis dancing like a daddy long legs

But around about this point, I've got to decide what music festival I'm going to in the summer. I only really have enough money for one. A bunch of my friends are going to Benicassim in Spain, and my usual festival, Download, has some good headliners. T in the Park, Isle of Wight, Glastonbury, and the festivals a newly reformed Pulp are visiting look promising. But what is it that motivates us to go in our thousands and pay hundreds to go and camp in a mucky field in order to see a few bands drunkenly mumbling into a microphone? What is it that makes me pay an amount equal to my weekly shopping bill in order to see a band for a couple of hours? It's not just me either. Have you seen how much Led Zeppelin and The Smiths have been offered to reform, when let's face it, they are very far past their best. Morrissey's voice is still great, but his performances of tracks like 'This Charming Man' or 'A Rush and a Push' in his solo performances are extremely dull. I suppose this goes back a little to my entry I made about our love for the past and groups gone by. But I disagree with those who say live music is a waste of time. Of course, it can be a gamble, a lot of reformed (and new) bands are shit. But it's well worth that gamble to see the bands that really do put on a spectacle.


I'd never really properly listened to Rage Against the Machine's discography before seeing them live. 'Testify' began, and I didn't really expect much because AC/DC had only been okay the day before. But everyone around me surged. The crowd turned into an ocean in a particularly unforgiving storm. The mass of bodies jumping up and down. Going below would only result in injury or suffocation. And the people were only half of the experience. The bass fought with the guitar, the drums provided a primal back-beat and the vocals were delivered like an armour piercing bullet.

I could use every cliché in the book to describe my experience at my favourite gig. But really, I'm just trying to sell the idea that live shows are an experience to the poor souls that read this blog. It's a chance to see your favourite performers proving that they can meet your expectations, fail them or exceed them, compared to their studio recordings which you originally fell in love with. Try it. It's not an atmosphere you'd want to die without experiencing.

Drunk blog #3. Thanks for reading!