Concert Review, Concert Preview and the Interconnected Subtle Romance of the Live Music Scene

"...I am trying to say
What I want to say
Without having to say..."

Last night I was treated to watching another "indie" (if there's a better more accepted term, please tell me) band from Canada.
The first indie act I saw was Feist, and the next is coming up very soon (but more on that later).

Last night Stars performed at The Vic Theatre. This is Stars:






But I don't want to comment on the musical aspect of this show last night. Oddly, and at no fault of the band's excellent performance, the more interesting aspects of the night had little do do with the main set.

I know of Stars because a coworker thought I'd like them after I couldn't stop gushing over Broken Social Scene. Stars, like Broken Social Scene, is on the Arts & Crafts record label (the Belagio of Canada's "indie" rock scene). The two bands also have The Vic Theatre in common. Broken Social Scene is scheduled to play there Thursday October 9. Therefore, I was able to purchase tickets for BSS at the Vic box office and avoided any Ticketmaster "ass poundings" (as Mac may say).

This put me in a great mood walking into the venue, and I must admit it preoccupied most of my mind. Now that Radiohead is off my "Bands to see live before I die" list, BSS is only topped by Bjork.

The other note about last night I want to mention is the apparent surplus of attractive and (seemingly) single women who enjoy Stars. I saw pack after pack of three or four good-looking-girls with no apparent male significant other marking territory. I am well aware at the likely hood that these GLGs were significantly with each other. After all, we're talking about Canada's Independent Music Scene here Ladies, Gentleman, Lesbians and Gays. A keen taste in music is a great quality in a significant other, and sometimes tough to find in the GLG genre.

How is that ice supposed to be broken? One would think it would be easy. By mere mutual existence in that venue you have something important in common. If you are willing to spend money on a weeknight concert on a Canadian band that doesn't get radio play surely you would have more to talk about? Maybe you have to have even numbers. What I mean is: a sufficient supply of Wingmen that can give you equal numbers. If I would walk up by myself to that group of four girls last night, trying to talk to one of them, a plethora of bad events may transpire. Anything from abject ignore to hostile cockblockery. Not to mention the obvious time crunch. There's no talking during the set and after the show is a mad dash for the fresh air beyond the exit.

You've got to go in there with a plan.
Get a team together.
Quickly assess the situation
Advance on targets
Enjoy the show as a large group under the guise of a very cool group pre-date.

But people don't want to plan for some sort of massive ground attack of flirting and other romance related carnage. I won't find people to plunk down $25 to see a show with me with an indirect female-focused goal.

(That being said, me and two of my friends just spend $35 for something this upcoming Wednesday)

If I mentioned it before, it's definitely worth mentioning again:
NPR's All Songs Considered is immaculte
On a recent episode they played a song from Land of Talk
They're a band from Montreal.
Yeah, you can see where I'm going with this.
But what was great news to me is that they are the openers for Broken Social Scene!
That's going to be a wonderful night.

(And I didn't even get into the fact that the night immediately after the Broken Social Scene show I'll be seeing My Morning Jacket at the Chicago Theatre!)

September 22, 2005

If you have met me in the past three years,
or maybe reconnected with me in that time,
you may not know that I have a metal plate in my head.

For this night,
I am typing this on September 22,
is my three year anniversary.

The following story begins on the night of September 22, 2005.
In 2004 and 2005 I spent most of my Thursday nights playing basketball.
I was in a local park district league with some friends.
Our team name was "Loose Balls."

I usually played center.
Most often, I was the taller guys on the court.
Playing down by the basket didn't bother me.
Even though as a youth I loved playing around the arc.

I was accused of "flopping" too often.
That is, trying to draw charging fouls from the opposition.
When there wasn't much contact.
On this Thursday night in 2005,
There was too much contact.

Facts are still in question.
Exactly who hit who
What hit what
This is what we know.
A guy I was not guarding made a hard drive to the hoop.
I slid over to take a charge.
There was a collision involving the driver,
my teammate guarding him,
and me.
The whistle blew.

I did not get the charging call I was hoping for.
But that didn't matter to me at the time.
The collision was intense.
It knocked me straight to the floor.
I was unable to get up.
Instead, I said in an oddly calm voice, "Sub"
(calling for a substitution from the bench)
I pushed myself out of bounds across the baseline.
Literally sliding my ass across the court with my arms.
As if I was paddling a boat without oars.
There, on the baseline, back up against the gym wall, I stayed for a while.

I didn't know it then, but I suffered a concussion.
The gym wasn't exactly "spinning" in my mind.
But the feeling wasn't too far from that.
Finally, I got myself up and walked back to the bench.
I didn't go back into the game.
I drove home.
I went to sleep.
I woke up.

When I tried to brush my teeth
I realized something was wrong
Something seriously out of whack
I was unable to get my toothbrush to my back teeth.

That next day,
Friday morning,
I arrived to work on time.
With a dented face.

I was able to talk
although my teeth couldn't separate enough to slide in a toothpick.
I was in no pain.
Just a slight feeling of uncomfortable
Not unlike when you wear a button down shirt with the buttons one-off
The shirt is still wearable, just doesn't fit right on your body.
That was how my face felt.

People had a tough time looking at me that morning.
My right eye was also bloodshot.

You may be asking why I didn't go to an ER?
The answer is unique for our times.
I'm a member of an HMO.
I've had a lot of battles with HMOs over my short life.
Basically, unless I need someone to stop bleeding.
Like, from a GSW...
I'm going to my "Primary Care Physician" first.

After securing an early afternoon appointment
I told my boss that I was taking a half day
After seeing my Primary Care Physican.
I was sent off to the hospital for an X-Ray.
After my P.C.P. saw the X-Ray,
I spoke to him on the phone from the hospital's waiting room

He said, "Well, the X-Rays came back negative, but I saw your face... It's broken... I'm sending you to a specialist."

The doctor I met next, instantly recognized what happened to my face.
He was a surgeon, and informed me that I had an orbital bone fracture
(that's my eye socket)
and a zygomatic bone fracture (that's one of the bones that form my cheek)


He explained the surgery that I needed very clearly.
It was not needed to be repeated.

It would reqiure two incisions.
One under my right eyelid, to slide a titanium plate to reset my cheek bone.
The second cut would be on the inside of my cheek.

The second cut was because my zygomatic bone had slid down and was blocking my jaw muscle.
(This is why I was unable to open my mouth)
Which was great news to me, I was fearing a broken jaw bone, with a wired solution.
But this second cut was needed to allow the surgeons (plural) to insert the medical equivalent to a crowbar into my face...
To pry my bone back into place...
In order to have the titanium plate - oh and four titanium screws - set it back into it's original location.

And although I understood how it was going to be done, I still had a few questions.
Just before I was sent off to get a CAT SCAN, I had the following dialogue.
I remember it today, three years later, word for word.

TQ: Does this plate come out after the bone's healed?
Dr.: No.
TQ: (after a slight pause) Are you saying that I will literally have a metal plate in my head the rest of my life?
Dr. Yeah, but it's small.
TQ: (after a slightly longer pause) Will it set off metal detectors?
Dr.: (after a short pause) I don't know.

To hear this surgeon say, "I don't know" was gravely unsettling to yours truly.
---
Fast forward about ten days.
The morning of my operation.
I'm lying down.
Wearing a glorified tablecloth.
Already pierced with the IV needle into my left hand.
My Father next to me, acting stoic.

The surgeon enters the room.
This is the first time I've spoken to him since our last unsettling conversation.
He informs us that he has brought in his boss to help him with the procedure.
(That makes me feel more comfortable)
He then offers this gem of a comment.
Again, I remember it verbatim.
"I've seen the CATSCAN... And on a scale of one to ten, it's severe."

He walks away, and I couldn't help but laugh.
I ask my dad, "Does severe mean a ten? or an eleven?"
My dad also laughed, but it was a different sort of a laugh.
I was laughing more out of disgust.
My dad's laugh was more out of uncertainty - not wanting to respond with silence.

----
Obviously, I came out all right.
The doctors did excellent work.
Nobody can tell that I've had, what I call, major facial reconstructive surgery.
For a solid year after this, people would ask me what's new...
You know, not really wanting to know what was new...
But I would tell them, in a blank and matter-of-factly as possible...
"What's new? Probably the titanium plate in my head, what's new with you?"

Trophy Tease

Once I get the rest of the pictures, I'll explain how I WON this trophy.
One of the greatest nights of my summer.
Stay tuned to learn the story behind the prize.

"I ain't freakin, I ain't fakin this"

I was blown away the first time I saw Ben Folds Five live.
Mainly because it was amazing that just three people were able to produce that powerful of a sound.

Although I've never seen The Ting Tings live (hopefully that may change), I get the same impression.
It's just the two of them.
And they were just added to perform live at next Sunday's MTV VMA awards.

It will be the performance of the show.







NPR has a great live set from them streaming on their site

Enjoy your Labor Day weekend,
TQ

"It doesn't have to be good to be a classic"

I first heard the line from Kevin Matthews.
During his midday talk radio on the famous Chicago station "The Loop."
Probably heard it around 1990, when I was around 11.
It was mainly said a joke.
Spoken in a tone of a fake Disc Jockey of an imaginary classic rock station.

But I think the statement is true.
There are many factors that make something classic.
Popularity
Cultural significance
Longevity

But necessarily quality.

A television channel I've grown an affinity to over the past three or so years is AMC
That stands for American Movie Classics.
And it's not because of shows Mad Men or Breaking Bad.
(for the record, I don't like nor hate Mad Men but do like Breaking Bad)

They're rather reliable for a classic movie.
Classic in the sense I earlier outlined... not like TCM (Turner Classic Movies) which love to play very old movies.

For example, I'd list The Fugitive, The Usual Suspects, Die Hard as classic American movies. Fitting the title of the channel.

But tonight, AMC Failed me.
Right at 7 pm, as I was about to tear into a chicken breast / noodle thing...



No.
Not Classic.
Not in any sense.
And you won't find a guy who appreciates JCVD as much as me.
Bloodsport is a classic.
Nowhere to Run is too (albeit for different reasons).
But not Timecop!

This is what got me to thinking about tonight's subject matter.
What's the item I feel most defines "Classic"

Here was one of my first thoughts:



I instantly agreed, then grew a tad sad.
Sad because, and this goes back to that chicken breast / noodle thing...
I'm trying to quit Coke Classic.
I have NONE of it in house.
I've got about ten cans of the new silver bullet: Diet Coke.

It hurts.
The transition.
People tell me there's a light at the end of this tunnel.
Coke is so damn good.
I don't think there's ever a situation in which I'd be offered a cold can of Coke and turn it down.

Full Strength

Give me the Sugar.
Give me the Calories.
Give me that Caffeine that's going to keep up past 3 am.

My will was almost broken at lunch today.
I was drinking a private label DIET Lemon Lime.
It was a free sample from a new vendor.
In a label we don't even market.
I ate more vegetables that I didn't recognize.
Probably the first time I've ever had that particular item.

One of my closest work friends celebrated a birthday today.
I ate a cupcake.
And one cookie.
It was the first diversion from this campaign that started Monday night.
It took just under 72 hours for me to break the plan.

Hopefully I can build a streak until next Sunday.
I'll be at a baseball stadium.
I refuse to avoid their hot dogs.

Ok, I admit it, I watched Oprah again.

First let me say that in Chicagoland, the home of the Oprah, the show's on multiple times a day.
Please don't think I'm taping this show.

Just like the other night, I'm flipping around the channels...
As soon as I flip to Oprah I realize she's talking to one of the seated people in the audience.
It's a man.
This is why I didn't flip to the next channel.
From my limited viewing experience, I didn't think men were allowed in that arena.

Before I can decipher what this informal Q&A is about, his name pops up with the subtitle:
"Says more sex makes him happier."

Thinking Oprah may have pulled a huge "get" and snagged Captain Obvious to be her next guest, I continue watching.
Turns out this man's wife, seated next to him, took a belly dancing class and...

You can see where it goes from here.

Some people forget that Oprah was a "Jerry Springer" in her early career.
Her shows were routinely mocked by comedians for featuring an ecletic mix of lesbians, alien abducts, and your standard fare white trash Americana.

Then she got legitimate.
She started a book club.
Found her spirit.
Endorsed Barrack.
And as much as I enjoyed it, reunited the Cosby Family the other night.

Thankfully, Neil Patrick Harris saved me from watching more Oprah.
He was the second guest on Letterman.
NPH, will be forever respected by yours truely due to this:


I loved that show.
I demanded that my bedtime be extended to include the program into my weekly routine.

And what about bedtimes?
I heard my cousin doesn't have one for his kids.
Some of my friends may have survived this parental training mechanism.
It was such an essential part of a new school year - the extension of my bedtime.

I was already at an odds during recess not having cable.
Now I had to contend with playground talk of last night's Carson?
(that's Johnny Carson, not Carson Daly - although I'm sure nobody reading this would make that mistake)

Oh, Nas is on Letterman now.
A track about Fox News?
It's amazing how much a live backup back and improve a hip-hop performance.
Nas seems to be wearing a leather jacket dedicated to Team USA
The 1996 U.S. Basketball Team USA.
And finally, an awkward moment between Dave and Nas.

Idea of the night from President Elvis:
Example of Power versus Power of Example.

Closing Thoughts on the Olympics and other thoughts at 3 am

Misty May may have won her second consecutive gold medal in beach volleyball, but that's no excuse for having a tramp stramp referencing a Wife Beater who's not your husband.

D. Wade made me proud to be an American and, as always, associated with Marquette University.

While at a party on Saturday, me and another guy were watching the 4 x 400 women's relay.
U.S. started gaining ground on Russia.
We both start yelling
Everybody stopped to watch it too.
We take some credit in the comeback.
I then yelled out, "That's why we won the cold war muthafuckas!"

Another guy at this party, was acting drunk.
Later, he got drunk, but he likes to act drunk.
I can only handle him in small doses - only see him maybe twice a year.
He kept referencing how "gay" Men's Diving was.
Ironically, he didn't (and probably doesn't) know that the Aussie to win that gold medal is the only openly gay gold medalist of the games.
Openly gay.
NBC should be ashamed for not showing his family and partner in the crowd.

Danny "Harry Potter" Radcliffe was on Conan tonight - said he watched the Olympics...
But he called it, "China versus U.S."
Great Britain won it's most medals in Olympic history, but he never saw one Brit Olympian.

Medal Count is bullshit.
As Herman Edwards said:

Hello?
You PLAY
to WIN
the GAMES!

China wins the Olympics, they had the most gold medal.
This ain't a Bronze-off.
As another coach once said, I'll say about China:
"Crown their ass."

-

Pre-ordering off iTunes is the only way to go.
The Verve's comeback album (I know, their latest one) drops Tuesday.
I was able to download it at 10 pm Monday Night.
I'm listening to it now.
Quality.

Too many sailboats in the Kennedy bio-pic at the Democratic National Convention tonight.
But... I guess it's okay to be an elitist if you're a KENNEDY.
Personally, I agree with Bill Maher when it comes to political elitism.
I want my politicians to think they're better than us.
It's a big job... Better think you're qualified.

Listened to the Slate Podcast today.
It was a story about what if Obama loses.
As much as an Obama victory will be a gigantic step towards equality.
An Obama loss will be as much a step backward.
Here we are, U.S.A...
A chance to try to right a wrong.
And many will say, "nope, let's not just stay racist - let's be more racist."

Watched a bit of Oprah tonight.
This is not a regular occurrence.
She had the kids from The Cosby Show reuniting.
Man, that show was great to watch when I was a kid.
I'd like to show that show to my children if I have the chance.
You know Dr. and Mrs. Huxtable would campaign for Obama.
They couldn't possibly be Alan Keyesesque Flat Taxers, could they?

Turned off Oprah after a half hour.
Theo and company left the stage.
Then Oprah announced that everyone in the audience gets all 8 seasons of The Cosby Show on DVD.
Crowd goes nuts.
Then, before she introduced David Cassidy, she holds up a pink smart phone from Sprint.
Oprah urges people, if they have a Sprint phone, to text something for I don't know what the purpose.
Then she mentions ringtones available that sound like Partridge Family songs.
This is her segue to Cassidy's performance.
The crowd goes bezerk.
Not bezerk for Cassidy, bezerk because Oprah - still holding the smart phone from Sprint - gives a sideways glance to the crowd and a sideways smirk.
They can smell free shit like it's a buffet day at the zoo.
People start literally shaking others in the audience.
Yeeaaah, can you believe this? Can you believe we're here? Can you imagine we can feel this alive? We have a free phone and 3 freaking months free... Am I dreaming?

Realizing that Rudy and Associates aren't coming back, I flip off and make the comment out loud in my empty bedroom, "And you know what else you get my fans? The antidote!."
And I laugh at my own joke.

If people can quit something bad instantly, can you start something good just as quick.
That's what I'm attempting.
I don't smoke.
Never have.
But if I did, and I tried to quit, I'd try the old "cold turkey" routine.
I'm starting "healthy eating" cold turkey.
Small steps.
Tonight my dinner included squash.
In an absolute WTF moment in my newfound (aka living on my own) life.
TQ eats squash with turkey meatballs.
No fast food in sight.
Hope it lasts.
Need strength.
That... and 2,000 calories a day.

Brian Westbrook, does "redeem team" mean anything to you?
This year, make me forget, forgive... Fortify.

Broken Social Scene announced an October show.
Not just any day in October.
The Thursday before my Friday My Morning Jacket Show.
Could that be the best back to back concert experience of my life?
Need to find somebody for that B.S.S. show first.

Back to this party from Saturday for a moment.
Someone asked me where I was from.
Although it hasn't happened in YEARS, I knew what she meant.
I said, "Des Plaines" knowing that's not what she wanted to hear.
(Before that)
I then said, "Prospect Heights" growing angry inside.
Before she added, "I'm american."
And she asked if my parents were born in America.
The anger is unknown to me.
In the past I felt shame at my speech impediment.
Used to collapse inside my shoulders when the thought was raised.
Recalling that memory before 6 year old soccer when some kid asked me, "Do you speak English?"
Pour the liquor out of your ears bitch.

I have no idea who Russell Brand is.
He's hosing the MTV Video Music Awards.
It's a new low of pop culture ignorance.
Bothers me, only somewhat.
But still... have I been passed by?

It's an urban legend. The "F" word is not an acronym for Fornicate Under Command of the King.

Do all young people in foreign countries think all Americans have the speech pattern and syntax of George W. Bush?
In the same way we assign the same English and Aussie accents as generalizations.
Is our forceful german mocking impressions a kin to Southern drawl jokes across the pond?

My penchant for dating strangers appears to be decreasing by the day.
Still at an unhealthy high level, it's refreshing to notice a decline.
I've seen the fish in the sea.
Participated in that pool.
It's exhausting.
Thinking of it makes me want to make another attempt at slumber.

Happy Thoughts,
TQ