[Spoon, The Walkmen and White Rabbits at the Vic Theatre in Chicago, Ill. on April 4]

We missed White Rabbits, the opener.

I know, I know, I know. Huge mistake. We tried but were running late and we tried and we… have no real excuse. Big mistake, since I’m sure they were as good live as their recordings, and we totally dropped the ball.

We missed The Walkmen too, but caught the last song which made absolutely no impression on me. I don’t see how they aren’t the same band as The Killers, except that the latter isn’t loved by Seth & Summer.

And then there was the (always lovely) Spoon. I don’t really know why, but security. was. insane. After being there for only ten minutes (and somehow successfully sneaking up to third row), I saw two people get kicked out — one for having a beer and no wristband, and one for giving a beer to someone without a wristband. (They were separate incidents, I believe.)

It wasn’t only drinks, though. Cracking down on photography — not just flash photography, but all photography — they shined a flashlight in the face of anyone taking a photo with their point-and-shoot and made them delete it while they watched. Gillman was unfortunately one of these sad souls, which is why all of my photos from the evening have a hazy camera phone effect, since I’m scared of authority figures, and even more frightened of ones who have the power to pluck me out of a concert crowd.

When I was in fifth grade, I was obsessed with Hanson. I used to photocopy pages of BOP magazine featuring young Zak in the middle school library’s copy machine, starting my obsession with magazines and clipping wonderful things from them. Although my crazed cutting has transferred from a blond-haired drummer to Prada outfits and fashion editorials, I haven’t met a similar fascination with a band comprised of boys in a while…until Spoon.

And, as awfully embarrassing as it is to admit, at one point I was jumping up and down, screaming and cheering.

You know what, though? I needed to. It never ceases to amaze me that a band could be so fantastic, but their audience could be so awful.

From New York to Chicago to Los Angeles, their shows continue to impress, and their crowds continue to suck. When I saw them at CMJ, no one danced. When I saw them at The Vic and last fall at The Rivera, no one danced. And, when we flew out to LA to see them, we got yelled at for dancing, despite the fact that we were in the third-to-last row of the venue.

I’m not sure what drives me and my friends bonkers about their music but causes the majority of the crowd to stand there, feet planted and eyes straight ahead, never budging except for maybe a rousing rendition of “The Underdog.”

Look at the crowd…looking!

They played a few songs I wasn’t too familiar with, but there’s a reason I was giddy like a Hanson fan all over again — they played “Stay Don’t Go,” one of my favorite songs of theirs, and the hands-down fave of Alex Davis, our Spoon-loving friend who currently lives in Spain and missed the show.

You never really know when the song is going to start since the album version features repetitive beatboxing courtesy of lead singer/guitarist Britt Daniel, causing the excitingly giddy thought process of, “Wait..no…wait…it kinda sounds…wait, hold on…could it be?….IT IS!!!” whenever it begins.

The rest of the show included a fair amount of songs off of Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga and a couple off of Gimme Fiction.  At 2:26 a.m with half-open eyes. it’s hard to think of adjectives for the word “great” and “awesome,” but the show was definitely worth traveling 8 hours roundtrip for.

It’s unfortunate that a band of that stature doesn’t get the outward love and physical respect of their audience when they without a doubt deserve it. But, as long as they keep performing, I’ll be in the front cheering.

I shot the Cursive and Capgun Coup show last night for Smile Politely. Check out the story here, and browse some of the photos below:

Capgun Coup:

Cursive:

[I was trying to install a Flickr plugin, but since this blog is operated by someone else (The217.com), I couldn’t do it. This might take a bit to load, but the files are half the size they typically are, so it shouldn’t be too bad.]

Local Music Awards:

Michael Coulter tells inappropriate jokes, half the audience gets awkward.

Agent Mos. I’d never heard him perform, but he was enjoyable, even if most of my brain energy was devoted to being intimidated by the other (real) photographers.

Hello, Yoho.

buzz’s Stephanie Prather presents:

Memphis on Main.

I’ve seen Zmick a handful of times, but they’ve got their shit together and it sounds great:

Attentive listeners:

Ryan Groff scoffs in the face of jam bands.

Back to the Local Music Awards.

Carl Hauck.

L.L.J.C.

(Ladies Love Jon Childers)

Snowsera dressed the part to say the least. I had never seen them live, but the crowd went crazy for them. People were screaming their tiny heads off.

(Must have been the vests.)

And Memphis on Main, once again.

Until Elsinore’s show, the crowd seemed older and significantly less full of students, but by the time they hit the stage, the LMAs had ended and the crowd slowly filled in with people from next door. The show was fantastic and their new music is incredibly good. If you haven’t heard “The General,” stop reading this and listen to it right now.

Ze crowd.

Groff on guitar.

Reflecting on the crowd.

(Look into the mirror.)

Elsinore’s new sound = dance fest.

I love this photo.

The end.

Check out my review of Casados, Ryan Groff, and my favorite new act, Vandaveer in my review! Click the link to read it!! There’s photos, too! Click away!

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Check out my recap of tonight’s Santa show and see more photos by clicking below! Click!!

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Check out my review, a bunch of sweet pics and the (shockingly bizarre) ending to the show after the jump! Click on it NOW!

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Just got back from the Jose Gonzalez concert that Gillman wasn’t allowed to attend, allowed to attend, couldn’t attend, and attended. (Ticket troubles, sheesh!)

The opener, Mia Doi Todd made “pretty”music, but it was too quaint for my liking. Enjoyable, yes, but it reminded me of the type of CD 58-year-old couples from Chicago’s North Shore suburbs pop into their stereos with Bose speakers before sipping on a nice red (never referred to as “wine,” only by color.) I spent most of her set daydreaming and trying to figure out if she got her puffy curls cut into layers, or if it just grew out like that.

Jose, though, was fantastic. Wholly submerged in mostly purple and blue lighting, he played the first few songs solo on the guitar, highlighting how phenomenal he and the sound at Chicago’s Lakeshore Theatre are.

Around the fourth or fifth song, back-ups came out to join him onstage, and stuck with him for the rest of the show, except for one solo encore song. Sandwiched between a conga player and a…well, we’ll get to her later, Jose continued to wow the crowd with his tunes in the insanely intimate setting (I felt uncomfortable taking photos, that’s how dark and quiet it was.)

On the congas was a dude dressed in an orange sweatshirt emblazoned with a tiger a la Flight of the Conchords‘ Bret whose drumming helped to round out the sound and his vocals didn’t hurt, but the lady sitting opposite of him was a different story. Inferably, she was a “make yourself useful and pick up a rice shaker” charity case of a girlfriend. (Well, half inferred — I saw them together before the show entering for sound check.)

All in all, her barely-on-beat cowbell clangs and percussionist shaketyshakes added little to the music, even if her voice added less, since I’m convinced she was fake singing. (Two extras on stage and there’s no vocal harmony, even with a girl on Jose’s side? Lame.) But, besides the onstage deadweigh, Jose’s performance was phenomenal.

[I’m trying to wrap this up at 2:17 am and this is what i zoned out and wrote as the final line: “Besides the onstage deadweight win.” I think I’ll leave it there.]