Oh, kiddies. I missed the Everybells and the Whistles because I didn't get my big rear end down to the Turf Clubs in time. I was busy watching my stories, you see, and couldn't leave the house until eleven. You see, I had to sleep in late this morning and I missed my stories at their regular time, 11:00AM, CBS, because I was sleeping in late. Why sleeping in late, Grandma? Well, I stayed up late drinking O'Doul's, that's why. I can't have real beer on account of my Coumadin. So I wasn't hungover but did stay up late drinking my O'Doul's and that's why I had to stay home to watch my stories and missed the Everybells and the Whistles. I arrived in time to order an O'Doul's (on account of my Coumadin you know up until my blood started clotting I could drink better'n the rest of you did I mention my daddy was a bootlegger during the Prohibition?) and watch the Private Dancers, who are a very nice band indeed. But I wonder why that lovely curly haired brown-eyed singer doesn't sing more. He has a very nice voice and handsome brown eyes. He should use what our Good God gave him and sing more, and ask the sound engineers at the Turf Clubs to turn up his mic. Don't you think? But then, what do I know? I'm just an old woman. Don't pay any attention to me. After the Private Dancers the band Cryptacize played their lovely music. It was lovely but it did not sit very well with my O'Doul's and Coumadin. This music is quite quirky and high-pitched quirky female singers have a tendency to remind me of the Deerhoofs anyway and that little girl is very sweet but someone should feed her some apple kuchen do you see how her thighs don't touch in the middle? So tiny! Where is her mother? And finally, the band the Weather is Happenings played. Don't tell my doctor, but I just might have exchanged my O'Doul's for a Budweiser which as you probably know does not sit well with my Coumadin and so I can recall describing to a young man that I liked the Weather is Happenings just fine and dandy, but it was nothing I'd go out of my way to see unless I was dating the guitar player. I wish! His curly moustache makes me nostalgic for the 1870s. Swoon!
When anticipating an Old 97's show, there are a number of things you can count on: 1. Rhett Miller will do the Windmill, and this will drive the ladies wild 2. Rhett Miller will do his hip swaying, skinny-legged alt-rocker dance, and this will drive the ladies wild 3. Rhett Miller will be soaked in sweat by the end of the performance, and this will drive the ladies wild 4. Watching Murry Hammond perform will make you think of that time he and the adorable Grey DeLisle were on "A Wedding Story" on TLC, and how Murry said he fell in love with Grey because "she shone," and it was maybe the sweetest thing you'd ever heard in your whole life.
So, you will have much to look forward to when attending an Old 97's show. Also, though the tickets are on the expensive side, you will totally get your money's worth because the performances tend to be of epic length. All in all, the night of an Old 97's show is a BIG NIGHT.
However, if you are like me and you saw the Old 97's at First Ave last night, there are also a number of things that perhaps you did not count on in anticipation of the show, and these may dampen your experience: 1. You will run into a fellow you briefly dated five months ago who ultimately blew you off, albeit subtly, which is fine and was in fact an appropriate way to end the liaison, given the circumstances 2. Although you bear him no ill will, after approximately three minutes of catching up you will give him a major conversational out, which he will not pick up on 3. Not only will he not pick up on it, he and his friends will set up camp next to you and your friend, and it will slowly dawn on you that the girl he introduced you to is, like, his girl 4. To complicate the matter a bit, your ex-boyfriend, with whom you have a relationship that you do not care to explain to outsiders, will turn up and stand with you 5. This whole ball of yarn will suck, and it will detract from your enjoyment of Rhett and Murry and what's-their-names, the other two that no one really cares about, despite how very talented they are musically.
Still with me? Okay. Don't worry, there's a happy ending. This is the part where the friend you came with, being part of the sisterhood and thus thinking on her feet, will go exploring on the first floor, and will return to report four things: 1. The temperature is much more agreeable there 2. The sound quality is better 3. She's found an excellent place to stand, and 4. The angle is much better for viewing Rhett Miller's "Ken-doll pecs."
As if you even have a choice of what to do after learning this information. So, after relocating yourself, along with your friend, your ex-boyfriend, and your kickball acquaintance with the ticketing connection, at the excellent place on the first floor, then, THEN, FINALLY, you can concentrate on what really matters- the Windmill, the dancing, the sweaty shirt, people shining, and oh, the music, and the diverse crowd the 97's bring out, and by diverse I mean "40-something couples from the 'burbs in high-waisted jeans who are obviously having a very special night out." And you will not even smirk about the high-waisted jeans, because a) you've been known to rock some rube fashions yourself from time to time, but more importantly, b) isn't it nice those people are having a fun Wednesday night out and that they appear to be in a happy marriage?
Then Murry will sing "Valentine" and you will contemplate your solitary existence, which will cause you to bring home your ex-boyfriend and have sex with him.
6/4/08 Old 97s First Ave, 7:30, $18/20 That's kind of expensive. Mayslack's has .25 wings and $6 pitchers 7-close. A single whiskey at First Ave costs about that much. Happy Hump Day.
6/3/08 The Evening Rig @ Movies in the Park, Edison HS (22nd and Quincy NE), 8PM followed by the film Burn at 9PM, weather-permitting, BYOB And if it gets rained out... um... really there's not much good music in town tonight. Go find 2-4-1ssomeplace in that case (though beware the rockabilly). Happy Tuesday! Today Hillary will likely concede to Barack. The Nuge gives them both The Finger.
While we at Stuffed Pheasant fully endorse the Nuge's undeniably awesome guitar shreddin', deer shootin' talents, we do not endorse his political rants and prefer to use our guns to shoot at Moose not Mexicans. Sorry Nuge!
I just reached for a glass of water (because water is good for my body) and in so doing, knocked over the numerous cans of Black Label Beer resting on my nightstand (because Black Label Beer is bad for my body). I am inadvertently taking a stand against unhealthy living. Bottle of Jim Beam, you are next!
This is all beside the point. Obviously.
Here's a drunk music review.
Tonight I went to the Turf Club. I was late in arriving because I forgot my cash card at home. Y'see, I had tucked it into my jeans earlier in the night to walk to the shitty convenience store by my house to buy some chips and some chips and some soda and some soda. This all cost nine dollars and some change. As always, the convenience store clerks gave me some major shit, or rather, as much sh*t as is permitted by their religion, for not taking it away in a plastic bag. I don't get it. Furthermore, a woman in pajamas and Tweety Bird slippers attempted to project a loogie in my direction on the way there. When you look up "loogie" on the googler you are directed to a wikipedia entry called "loogie" which is actually just a redirect to "mucus."
This is all beside the point. Obviously.
Here's the drunk music review.
Turf Club. That's in St. Paul. Tonight was hipster central, or so said my friend. Do curly handlebar moustaches and gigantor ear piercings pierced by mini-sharpies a hipster central make? Well then yes, she was right. I missed the first band, a band called Tooth. When I search on the googler for "TOOTH" and "TURF" I get
Lawn care is a fascinating subject but we are here to discuss taxidermy and so I will point out that I missed the band called Tooth.
I also missed the band called Faggot. This name offends me but I love to do the Tomahawk Chop.
I say I missed them not only because of that lateness and that convenience store and their funny funny jokes about me walking down a busy urban street, carrying uncovered junk food for the world to see, but also because Faggot did not play as billed.
Instead, Knife World played. I missed it, and was bummed out. Like, totally. Bummed.
I missed it tonight, but Knife World is a very good band. You make a two piece band in this town, and it will be good. Try and tell me I'm wrong. Fuck a bass player, man.
Please note: At this point in my drunk faux music review, I decided I was way too drunk because although Knife World played second, I could not stop typing "Knife World played second to last." Hm. And so I stopped, zonked, didn't wake til morning, and here I am again, now sober.
I still agree with my drunken point that Knife World is a very good band, as are many two piece bands. That dude in Knife World reminds me of Nugent. I think it's the screaming and the strutting and the hair. I'm sure he also carries large guns. I mean, have you seen his arms?
Digressions, digressions. More abundant than carcasses on the grounds of the Michigan Nugent Compound.
After Knife World, some dude played some weird electronic shit. The electronic shit was made weird by the face he was making throughout. He was clearly enjoying himself. It's nice to see a musician enjoying himself so unapologetically. It is indeed a rarity.
Knife World did not play second to last. Second to last was Seawhores. Now this was the first time I had seen Seawhores which, I have been told, is unfortunate. They play quite frequently, and I have been to their shows, but if you haven't noticed I have a strong propensity toward getting drunk and not paying attention to music. Which is why this is a blog about taxidermy, clearly. Seawhores are a loud and fun band. Their drummer is a television. Seawhores make me old. I am too deaf to interpret their music to be loud in my ears but halfway through their set I had to hide in the basement because their music was loud in my head and that makes me old. Check them out if you're not old like me. Check them out if you're old like me but be prepared to hide when they are loud in your head.
Joe Preston looks like a nice dude. I would like to take him hunting. His set started off a little slow; droning guitar, don't fall asleep. But as with the ridiculously sludgy, droning noise I'm always guaranteed at a Melvins show, the payoff came soon enough when Preston picked it up a bit and rocked my Lorpen Hunting Socks right off.
Thrones is currently heading west, and is slated to play the Supersonic Festival in Birmingham (UK not Alabama) in July. Here's some Dolly Parton.
What better way to start off a blog about taxidermy and local music than by reviewing the Rush show (Xcel Energy Center, Thursday May 22)? No better way, to answer my own question. No one in the entire world is aware of the existence of this blog about taxidermy and local music, and so there is ample opportunity for me to answer my own questions, though one-by-one, reader-by-reader, that is to, in short order, change, and you, one of the very first readers, may find yourself posing alternative better ways to start off a blog about taxidermy and local music. For example, perhaps one better way would have been to write about local music and not a science-fiction/fantasy prog-rock band from Toronto. Perhaps another would have been to edit the run-on sentence above. However, you, reader, were not present for the inception of this blog about taxidermy and local music and, as such, you do not have a say. Sorry Charlie. Hm.
Anyway.
I won four free tickets to see Rush on the St. Paul stop of their Snakes & Arrows World Tour. Four! Free! Fun! Fantastic! Thesaurus consultation could have made that passage much more festive - wait! I did not win them. They were given to me. Well-timed radio station dialing was not involved. They just kinda ended up in my lap. But it felt like I had won some sort of Fun Fantastic Lottery. The only thing better than free Rush is free Bon Jovi. Just kidding. I'll disclaim that in my mind the two are not even comparable. Nope. And that I don't truly believe Ringo Starr could beat Neil Peart in a drum-off. He was not even the best drummer in the Beatles, or so the story goes.
Free Rush tickets are a hot item, and diplomat that I am, I abode by a (more-or-less) first-come, first-served policy of ticket sharing with friends. After one friend backed out because she was puking (perhaps after joking that she hoped Geddy Lee would fuck me with his nose she actually visualized this image and it caused her to vomit?), I ended up taking three friends - a bass player, a drummer, and a bass player/drummer. Hey look! Now this is legitimately a blog about local music! Eat it.
Because my friends were on time (one), fashionably late (two), and late (three), I had just enough time to down three whiskeys prior to the show. Upon arrival, I drank a beer. Friend three bought me another beer. Friends one and two a whiskey coke each. I am a math whiz and that means I had twelve drinks. No, but I'm that awesome. I ate some peanuts, too.
In any case, I spilled a lot of beer, whiskey and peanuts on my lap and that means I was drunk on a lot of peanuts, and so I cannot provide you with any sort of proper show review except to say that Neil Peart had a rotating drum riser, Geddy Lee's hair was fantastic, and I didn't hear Alex Lifeson screw up even once. I couldn't even begin to tell you if the online petition for Rush to play one song from every album (hasn't been done since the Permanent Waves tour!) was successful as I was too drunk to pay attention to set lists, my 30 seconds of research did not produce a set list, and who cares about set lists? I am tired of inserting hyperlinks, and so if you are curious about this online petition, you're just going to have to look it up. I will tell you that Limelight is not in the top three songs for Moving Pictures and that is some bullshit.
Missed last night's show and feeling bad about it? That would make you a thirty-five year old man. At least, according to the thirty-five year old man sitting behind us, apologizing for his drunk thirty-five year old friend, and saying that I was much too young to be at a Rush concert. Oh yeah? Well I'm drunk. As I was saying, missed last night's show and feeling bad about it? Look up "Backstage Secrets," a HGTV five-part documentary series that goes on the road with Rush. Each installment of the five-hour documentary follows a different member of the Rush crew through a typical day on the road during this tour. The show airs Thursday nights and is a must-see for fans. How convenient, since only thirty-five year old men subscribe to HGTV. Wait, did I call that HGTV? Why yes I did. That would be HD. HG is for women, whipped men, and the gayzzzzzz. HDTV and Rush are for MEN!
OH! And I'll bet it was at the end of this song that Peart's riser started rotating. I'll just bet.
Look for Rush to tour again. And again. And again and again and again for the rest of eternity.
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