So 2016 only has a few days left, but upon reflection, it was a good year for The Shows. Of course, it wasn't as good as 2015 -- with Prince, Ride (in Toronto!), Don Henley, Sparks (once with an orchestra, and once with Franz Ferdinand), Zombi, Little Dragon, Belle & Sebastian, and so on -- but there was still fun to be had, even in the second half of the year.
John Carpenter [15 July, Masonic Theatre Oak Room, Detroit] -- Now this was something special: A showing of Escape From New York, followed by a live performance by director John Carpenter of selected film themes as well as material from his two recent solo albums, all in a side room of one of the bigger and more historic live venues in Michigan. I sat in the front row of the balcony, surrounded by loud white dudes each wearing black metal band t-shirts and reeking of body odor. And while they riffed over the movie with enough volume to earn shushing from the main floor, at least they had the decency to shut the fuck up for the musical portion, which was a total ass-kicker. Carpenter's live band played the themes while special edits of the respective films were played behind them, and it was a great reminder of the power of Carpenter's scoring of his own visuals, an artistic treat of sight and sound, played for a knowledgeable and appreciative audience.
Super Furry Animals [17 July, The Loving Touch, Ferndale] -- My third show in as many nights was a can't-miss happenstance, with a stadium-caliber band playing a venue that can be described best as "intimate" and worst as "tiny as fuck." And while the stage was small, the performance was huge yet light, balancing the anthems you'd expect with the humor and wit of a group of friends having as much fun now as they did at the start of it all. Closing with an extended vamp on "The Man Don't Give A Fuck" with the now-expected-but-still-delightful costume changes, SFA managed to be both nostalgic and current, all while rocking your face off.
Roisin Murphy [6 November, The Loving Touch, Ferndale] -- Much like SFA, when one has the opportunity to see an act that you've listened to for two decades who almost never tours the U.S., you have to take that shot. And it was a show that came at just the right time to renew my love of live performance, because I was at my lowest ebb of enthusiasm in my quarter-century of concert-going. Like many old music fans, my motivations (having been wounded by the erosion of desire that Coachella '16 threw at me) have been generally shaved down by the ravages of time -- joints get creaky, tinnitus gets worse, kids get younger, patience gets thinner, gut gets fatter -- and it didn't help that the "opening act" was a young black-clad female standing in front of a laptop and bopping her head to the faceless and nameless beats. But as with all great artists, once the show started, all those feelings and barriers fell away. She sampled her entire career with zeal and aplomb, changing hats and wigs on the fly while her voice never failed to captivate and enrapture. It was my last show of 2016 -- thanks for cancelling, Morrissey -- and what a way to end a year.
Now how about 2017?
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