This past weekend, I was on the road for over a thousand miles, driving from Petoskey to Detroit to Grand Rapids and there and back and whew and whoa and hither and yon. The purpose? Three concerts in Detroit and two days of AAU volleyball for my niece's team. [And they finished third out of twenty teams, so not so bad for the youngest and almost-tallest of my relatives.] I can't remember the last time I saw three shows back-to-back-to-back, so I set off on the adventure not knowing what to expect.
Holy Fuck wsg Crocodiles [Friday @ The Magic Stick] -- I've been to the Magic Stick dozens of times over the years, but this was my first visit since they've added an outdoor patio and bar, which offers a nice vantage point to bathe in top-notch urban decay. But for the most part, I stayed indoors to watch the bands, and was more than happy with my decision. After slogging through a local opening band (--yawn--), the San Diego duo called Crocodiles fired up the red lights and drum machine and fuzz-rocked the crowd into pleasant agitation. It's nice to see a "rock" band with some intention; Crocodiles clearly want to blend early-'80s Echo & The Bunnymen with white-boy blues (and some Jesus & Mary Chain to boot), and their assimilation is respectable, especially for a debut. Holy Fuck bring the instrumental electronic rock-funk (similar to later Trans Am) that would cause a normal crowd to shake their asses, but Detroit crews are content with the indie-boy head-nod, which is as much of an affirmative as one can hope for. They pulled out their propulsive jams with skill and verve, which made it a good start to the weekend.
The Tragically Hip [Saturday @ The Fillmore Detroit] -- Now, I'm not a virgin to The Hip, as I've seen 'em a few times before in Grand Rapids years ago. [I even met the band, and you'll never find a nicer bunch of multiplatinum Canadian rockers.] When people ask me what they sound like, I always default to a rocking Canadian version of R.E.M. with a shot of off-kilter yet endearing weirdness. Saturday's show was the second in a row for The Hip; this is a band that fills arenas and stadiums in their home country, but hasn't quite found a foothold in America. And that's a shame, because if a band was ever ready for their U.S. coming-out party, it's The Hip. They have the fist-shaking anthems, they have the slow burners, they have the sing-alongs, and in lead singer Gordon Downie, they have a honest-to-Dog compelling frontman. He did some impromptu mime, he mouthed dialogue to himself that only he could hear, and yet he reached folks from the front row to the back of the balcony. I honestly didn't know what to expect from the show, but I should have known I wouldn't be disappointed. In fact, I can't wait to see them again. [Hopefully without as many drunken Canadian lads in my ear; one guy actually said he was "looking to score some trim," a pussy-hunt phrase that I thought went out with MC Hammer pants.]
Fischerspooner wsg Ssion [Sunday @ The Majestic] -- I've also seen Fischerspooner before, but it was years ago, when their first record was a quasi-hit, with tracks like "Emerge" goosing a packed house that watched an old-fashioned event in place of a concert. But time rolls along, and their commercial flower has faded; their recent third record came and went in four seconds, and the Majestic was at 1/3 capacity. After the opener Ssion gamely pimped his queer-yet-engaging dance-pop (everything about Ssion can be summarized in the title of his catchy closer "Street Jizz"), Fischerspooner laid down the most overtly theatrical performance in my recent memory. It was art-pop with dancing, mirrors, costumes, wit, verve, and a winking nod to the artifice of a "rock show" in the 21st Century. In other words, it was totally awesome. The crowd that was there experienced a singular moment of performance, and those that missed it have no idea what they could have experienced.
So that was the weekend -- buzzing booty-shaking post-punk, skewed yet sterling Canuck rock, and performance-art pop. Couldn't have asked for three more diverse artists, and couldn't have asked for a better three-day weekend of music. But oh boy did I sleep when I finally got home.
Holy Fuck wsg Crocodiles [Friday @ The Magic Stick] -- I've been to the Magic Stick dozens of times over the years, but this was my first visit since they've added an outdoor patio and bar, which offers a nice vantage point to bathe in top-notch urban decay. But for the most part, I stayed indoors to watch the bands, and was more than happy with my decision. After slogging through a local opening band (--yawn--), the San Diego duo called Crocodiles fired up the red lights and drum machine and fuzz-rocked the crowd into pleasant agitation. It's nice to see a "rock" band with some intention; Crocodiles clearly want to blend early-'80s Echo & The Bunnymen with white-boy blues (and some Jesus & Mary Chain to boot), and their assimilation is respectable, especially for a debut. Holy Fuck bring the instrumental electronic rock-funk (similar to later Trans Am) that would cause a normal crowd to shake their asses, but Detroit crews are content with the indie-boy head-nod, which is as much of an affirmative as one can hope for. They pulled out their propulsive jams with skill and verve, which made it a good start to the weekend.
The Tragically Hip [Saturday @ The Fillmore Detroit] -- Now, I'm not a virgin to The Hip, as I've seen 'em a few times before in Grand Rapids years ago. [I even met the band, and you'll never find a nicer bunch of multiplatinum Canadian rockers.] When people ask me what they sound like, I always default to a rocking Canadian version of R.E.M. with a shot of off-kilter yet endearing weirdness. Saturday's show was the second in a row for The Hip; this is a band that fills arenas and stadiums in their home country, but hasn't quite found a foothold in America. And that's a shame, because if a band was ever ready for their U.S. coming-out party, it's The Hip. They have the fist-shaking anthems, they have the slow burners, they have the sing-alongs, and in lead singer Gordon Downie, they have a honest-to-Dog compelling frontman. He did some impromptu mime, he mouthed dialogue to himself that only he could hear, and yet he reached folks from the front row to the back of the balcony. I honestly didn't know what to expect from the show, but I should have known I wouldn't be disappointed. In fact, I can't wait to see them again. [Hopefully without as many drunken Canadian lads in my ear; one guy actually said he was "looking to score some trim," a pussy-hunt phrase that I thought went out with MC Hammer pants.]
Fischerspooner wsg Ssion [Sunday @ The Majestic] -- I've also seen Fischerspooner before, but it was years ago, when their first record was a quasi-hit, with tracks like "Emerge" goosing a packed house that watched an old-fashioned event in place of a concert. But time rolls along, and their commercial flower has faded; their recent third record came and went in four seconds, and the Majestic was at 1/3 capacity. After the opener Ssion gamely pimped his queer-yet-engaging dance-pop (everything about Ssion can be summarized in the title of his catchy closer "Street Jizz"), Fischerspooner laid down the most overtly theatrical performance in my recent memory. It was art-pop with dancing, mirrors, costumes, wit, verve, and a winking nod to the artifice of a "rock show" in the 21st Century. In other words, it was totally awesome. The crowd that was there experienced a singular moment of performance, and those that missed it have no idea what they could have experienced.
So that was the weekend -- buzzing booty-shaking post-punk, skewed yet sterling Canuck rock, and performance-art pop. Couldn't have asked for three more diverse artists, and couldn't have asked for a better three-day weekend of music. But oh boy did I sleep when I finally got home.
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