Slowly, But Surely
I'm starting to pick up speed. Hopefully, I can wrap up the account of Halloween weekend in one or two more posts. But where was I? Ah, yes.
Friday (continued)
John McCrea is a frighteningly intense man. His presence on stage is, at once, inspiring and disheartening. You could see it in his eyes as he meandered around the stage, whacking the Vibraslap like it had insulted his mother; his eyes, said to clap along and have a good time, while suggesting that we will all, inevitably, clap along with any song we hear, if it's played loud enough. It's clear that he wants us all to enjoy ourselves, and it seems to make him happy that we all support his band, but the reasons behind these things are not what you might initially assume: he wants us to enjoy ourselves because he recognizes the sorrow of life, especially modern life. He is happy to see us support his band, not because it's his band, but because we're all the better for our brief collaboration as an audience. Still, even in the relatively cohesive form of the audience, he still finds cause for disillusionment: commenting on our tendency to be loudest when one half of the audience is pitted against the other, he asked "What demon apes are we?"
In short, if you're a concert-goer, remember that band that you loved and cherished and promised to follow into the smoke and crossfire of the revolution they proffered; then remember seeing that band in concert and realizing that the red streamers over the stage, the strobe lights, the fist lifted in the air during the chorus of the hit single, that all of it was as sincere as the hot dog vendor claiming 100% beef. Take that disillusionment, how you felt realizing that the ideologies you got behind were just Sony Music trying to sell the anarchic adolescent portion of the market; take that feeling, and invert it.
Every impression I had ever gathered about CAKE and McCrea was supported and furthered by this concert. John McCrea is a musician after my own heart, and it was worth every one of those seven hours of driving to see CAKE.
Saturday
We made it back to Wash U around 1:30 A.M. We all collapsed in our respective sleeping locations, with plans to go to City Museum in the afternoon.
Before going to sleep, Carl threw his keys down without noting where they landed.
-Alan
Friday (continued)
John McCrea is a frighteningly intense man. His presence on stage is, at once, inspiring and disheartening. You could see it in his eyes as he meandered around the stage, whacking the Vibraslap like it had insulted his mother; his eyes, said to clap along and have a good time, while suggesting that we will all, inevitably, clap along with any song we hear, if it's played loud enough. It's clear that he wants us all to enjoy ourselves, and it seems to make him happy that we all support his band, but the reasons behind these things are not what you might initially assume: he wants us to enjoy ourselves because he recognizes the sorrow of life, especially modern life. He is happy to see us support his band, not because it's his band, but because we're all the better for our brief collaboration as an audience. Still, even in the relatively cohesive form of the audience, he still finds cause for disillusionment: commenting on our tendency to be loudest when one half of the audience is pitted against the other, he asked "What demon apes are we?"
In short, if you're a concert-goer, remember that band that you loved and cherished and promised to follow into the smoke and crossfire of the revolution they proffered; then remember seeing that band in concert and realizing that the red streamers over the stage, the strobe lights, the fist lifted in the air during the chorus of the hit single, that all of it was as sincere as the hot dog vendor claiming 100% beef. Take that disillusionment, how you felt realizing that the ideologies you got behind were just Sony Music trying to sell the anarchic adolescent portion of the market; take that feeling, and invert it.
Every impression I had ever gathered about CAKE and McCrea was supported and furthered by this concert. John McCrea is a musician after my own heart, and it was worth every one of those seven hours of driving to see CAKE.
Saturday
We made it back to Wash U around 1:30 A.M. We all collapsed in our respective sleeping locations, with plans to go to City Museum in the afternoon.
Before going to sleep, Carl threw his keys down without noting where they landed.
-Alan
posted by Alan Orlanski at 5:51 PM
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