The Fall in San Diego, May 9 2006
Introduction: San Diego (pronounced San Dee-AY-Go) is a vibrant, prosperous town, known for its colorful Republicans and other wildlife. Its main exports are camoflage and screwing the poor. The center of San Diego culture is undoubtedly the Gaslamp Quarter, which the town likes to think is California's version of New Orleans's French Quarter, which is a quite accurate representation, that is to say, if the Vieux Carre were filled with almost entirely white people and chain restaurants. Nevertheless, here we are and there we go....
Summary: No The Talk. There was no Talk. Talk, The: None. The band played eight songs, and the set lasted approximately 45 minutes. Full setlist will follow.
But first, I would like to express my hatred for House of Blues. Especially HOB San Diego, which is like a dungeon. It is. It just is. It's not even attached to the main House of Blues part, to see live music, you have to go through this weird security detail where a woman takes your ticket and scans it for viruses, and then another guy waves a big wand all over your body while groping you. Then you go inside, and you can't come back out. No-reentry. No-reentry, no smoking inside. No smoking inside, no smoking outside. No smoking, no happy. Also it's just completely dank inside the place, no matter how much "naive art" they plaster the walls with. And there are no chairs. None. Unless you bought the "dinner package," and then you get a folding chair directly behind the sound board, where you can't see anything. In short: fuck the House of Blues.
OK. Video guy doing his video stuff. Pretty interesting, but goes on way too long. I think he did his bit for about an hour. Fortunately the bar sold Stella, and I was able to quickly and efficiently intoxicate my way through it. He finishes and slides his compter table thing off to the side. Stage is pretty bare, the FHR logo is (dimly) on the backdrop behind the drums.
About ten minutes after video guy goes away, three scruffy looking guys come on stage and plug in their guitars. Who are these guys? I dunno. I thought maybe they were The Talk. Without any kind of fuss they launch directly into "Bo Demmick". They have it nailed, spot perfect, just like on the album, and then Elena comes out with her big polka dotted bag, places it next to her keyboards, and starts tapping along with the song. (I should mention here that Elena looks way hotter in person than in photos, and that's saying a lot. Most of you lucky bastards probably already knew this and weren't telling me.) About five minutes go behind, and these weird dudes are just grinding that riff.
I'll set up the new fellas here. The guitarist is a skinny guy with sort of a moddish haircut, like something you'd imagine every member of the Vines probably has. The bass player is a big lumberjack looking guy with a neck beard (or meth beard as people in these parts have started to call them... think Will Oldham with dark hair. The drummer is totally normal looking with short blond hair and looks like he enjoys long walks on the beach and playing dominos.
Oh yeah, they all look scared shitless.
Then Smif walks out, all scary black like. Black pants, black shirt, black jacket, like he was going to a funeral. Casually saunters out, as if he opened the backstage door and forgot he was supposed to do a concert. He gets to the mic and ("Good evening we are the Fall, from the land of bees [?] and [unintelligible] where [?] Harry Potter!") starts hollering "Hey fatty!" over and over. Good groove on this one. As good as most of the other live versions I've heard. Crowd goes crazy (audience is about 125 people, I'd estimate.)
Then the weird thing happens. Elena starts playing the intro to "Pacifying Joint" and the band looks totally confused. Apparently they did not get the speed learning course for this song earlier in the day. They know they're supposed to play "Midnight In Aspen," though, because they're looking at the setlist and it says right there: "Aspen." So they look at each other all question marky like, and start playing "Aspen." Elena refuses to give up on "Joint." MES isn't helping, and starts singing "Aspen," at which point Elena switches to the correct song and everybody is happy. Except Smith decides to make things weirder and inserts the chorus to "What About Us," except instead of those lyrics he's singing "What about drugs"...crazy...also Elena randomly goes back into "Pacifying Joint" a couple of times.
Next is "Sparta," and it's a shambling mess. I just can't even discuss it. It's all out of key and everything is in the wrong place and for the first time I'm really missing the old guys doing the "Hey hey hey" parts. Wah.
But then, the drummer lopes into the opening slams from "Mountain Energei," the rest of the band follows right along, and the whole thing is muscular and tight and freaking fantastic. It goes on for seven or eight minutes, just pure bliss. About ten percent of the crowd (including me) start pogoing for no apparent reason.
Also during this song, Smith starts fucking with the microphone stands. At one point he completely tangles himself in the cords while singing into two mics, somehow gets himself out of it, then creates a giant spider web across half the stage with all the mic cords. He seems pleased with it and leaves them like that for most of the rest of the set.
Next is "Wrong Place, Right Time." I see where Big Crashing Beat thought it was fantastic. I'm not sure. I thought the band couldn't figure out how they were supposed to play it. It was pretty good, but I'm almost certain it was a horrible mistake that got saved through gutsy improvisation.
Here I'll mention that Smith seems relaxed and in good humor for the whole set. He even tells a joke:
MES: And the next number is called... where can I get some bi-i-ig shorts from?
Audience member: In the mall!
MES: In the mall. (chuckles)
Now here comes the stunner: an absolutely amazing version of "What About Us." It's this set's "Blindness" and goes on for almost ten minutes. The band completely finds the groove and digs hard into it, Smith is into it, Elena is into it, the crowd is hypnotized. Smith starts fiddling with Elena's keyboards halfway through, then goes over to the bass player and turns the bass almost all the way off, doesn't like what he's hearing, so he turns all the knobs all the way up, then he wanders over to the guitarist and turns him completely off for about 30 seconds before bringing him back into the mix. Also, a pack of Marlboro Reds has magically appeared in his hand while he's doing this. He wanders offstage, comes back on, sings a few more verses, then tells the band to wrap it up, and just like that the set proper is done.
After Smith has his smoke, the band comes back on and does "I Can Hear the Grass Grow" (above average) and "Mr. Pharmacist" (great) and that's it. They leave and the house lights come up. Most of the crowd is confused, but not me, because I have super sekrit Fall knowledge (that "knowledge" like "know," a ledge filled with knowledge: a whole lot of knowing of stuff) and I knew what to expect.
Overall: just brilliant, considering the circumstances. I don't know where they found these guys, but all three of the musicians are outstanding, as good as (and it breaks my heart to say this) Pritchfordwistle in almost every way possible. Sure, they'll probably have to turn in their Fallgruppe union cards come June 2, but they have me really excited for the next few shows I'll be seeing...if they can do this on one day's notice... Color me impressed. By the time they get to Chicago (hiya Kris!) they should be one shit hot band.
I'll save the corny "always different, always the same," except, you know, it's true. The Fall. Amazing and bizarre, the eternal forkout....
Setlist:
Bo Demmick
Midnight In Aspen/Pacifying Joint
Sparta FC
Mountain Energei
Wrong Place, Right Time
What About Us
I Can Hear The Grass Grow (encore 1)
Mr. Pharmacist (encore 2)
Summary: No The Talk. There was no Talk. Talk, The: None. The band played eight songs, and the set lasted approximately 45 minutes. Full setlist will follow.
But first, I would like to express my hatred for House of Blues. Especially HOB San Diego, which is like a dungeon. It is. It just is. It's not even attached to the main House of Blues part, to see live music, you have to go through this weird security detail where a woman takes your ticket and scans it for viruses, and then another guy waves a big wand all over your body while groping you. Then you go inside, and you can't come back out. No-reentry. No-reentry, no smoking inside. No smoking inside, no smoking outside. No smoking, no happy. Also it's just completely dank inside the place, no matter how much "naive art" they plaster the walls with. And there are no chairs. None. Unless you bought the "dinner package," and then you get a folding chair directly behind the sound board, where you can't see anything. In short: fuck the House of Blues.
OK. Video guy doing his video stuff. Pretty interesting, but goes on way too long. I think he did his bit for about an hour. Fortunately the bar sold Stella, and I was able to quickly and efficiently intoxicate my way through it. He finishes and slides his compter table thing off to the side. Stage is pretty bare, the FHR logo is (dimly) on the backdrop behind the drums.
About ten minutes after video guy goes away, three scruffy looking guys come on stage and plug in their guitars. Who are these guys? I dunno. I thought maybe they were The Talk. Without any kind of fuss they launch directly into "Bo Demmick". They have it nailed, spot perfect, just like on the album, and then Elena comes out with her big polka dotted bag, places it next to her keyboards, and starts tapping along with the song. (I should mention here that Elena looks way hotter in person than in photos, and that's saying a lot. Most of you lucky bastards probably already knew this and weren't telling me.) About five minutes go behind, and these weird dudes are just grinding that riff.
I'll set up the new fellas here. The guitarist is a skinny guy with sort of a moddish haircut, like something you'd imagine every member of the Vines probably has. The bass player is a big lumberjack looking guy with a neck beard (or meth beard as people in these parts have started to call them... think Will Oldham with dark hair. The drummer is totally normal looking with short blond hair and looks like he enjoys long walks on the beach and playing dominos.
Oh yeah, they all look scared shitless.
Then Smif walks out, all scary black like. Black pants, black shirt, black jacket, like he was going to a funeral. Casually saunters out, as if he opened the backstage door and forgot he was supposed to do a concert. He gets to the mic and ("Good evening we are the Fall, from the land of bees [?] and [unintelligible] where [?] Harry Potter!") starts hollering "Hey fatty!" over and over. Good groove on this one. As good as most of the other live versions I've heard. Crowd goes crazy (audience is about 125 people, I'd estimate.)
Then the weird thing happens. Elena starts playing the intro to "Pacifying Joint" and the band looks totally confused. Apparently they did not get the speed learning course for this song earlier in the day. They know they're supposed to play "Midnight In Aspen," though, because they're looking at the setlist and it says right there: "Aspen." So they look at each other all question marky like, and start playing "Aspen." Elena refuses to give up on "Joint." MES isn't helping, and starts singing "Aspen," at which point Elena switches to the correct song and everybody is happy. Except Smith decides to make things weirder and inserts the chorus to "What About Us," except instead of those lyrics he's singing "What about drugs"...crazy...also Elena randomly goes back into "Pacifying Joint" a couple of times.
Next is "Sparta," and it's a shambling mess. I just can't even discuss it. It's all out of key and everything is in the wrong place and for the first time I'm really missing the old guys doing the "Hey hey hey" parts. Wah.
But then, the drummer lopes into the opening slams from "Mountain Energei," the rest of the band follows right along, and the whole thing is muscular and tight and freaking fantastic. It goes on for seven or eight minutes, just pure bliss. About ten percent of the crowd (including me) start pogoing for no apparent reason.
Also during this song, Smith starts fucking with the microphone stands. At one point he completely tangles himself in the cords while singing into two mics, somehow gets himself out of it, then creates a giant spider web across half the stage with all the mic cords. He seems pleased with it and leaves them like that for most of the rest of the set.
Next is "Wrong Place, Right Time." I see where Big Crashing Beat thought it was fantastic. I'm not sure. I thought the band couldn't figure out how they were supposed to play it. It was pretty good, but I'm almost certain it was a horrible mistake that got saved through gutsy improvisation.
Here I'll mention that Smith seems relaxed and in good humor for the whole set. He even tells a joke:
MES: And the next number is called... where can I get some bi-i-ig shorts from?
Audience member: In the mall!
MES: In the mall. (chuckles)
Now here comes the stunner: an absolutely amazing version of "What About Us." It's this set's "Blindness" and goes on for almost ten minutes. The band completely finds the groove and digs hard into it, Smith is into it, Elena is into it, the crowd is hypnotized. Smith starts fiddling with Elena's keyboards halfway through, then goes over to the bass player and turns the bass almost all the way off, doesn't like what he's hearing, so he turns all the knobs all the way up, then he wanders over to the guitarist and turns him completely off for about 30 seconds before bringing him back into the mix. Also, a pack of Marlboro Reds has magically appeared in his hand while he's doing this. He wanders offstage, comes back on, sings a few more verses, then tells the band to wrap it up, and just like that the set proper is done.
After Smith has his smoke, the band comes back on and does "I Can Hear the Grass Grow" (above average) and "Mr. Pharmacist" (great) and that's it. They leave and the house lights come up. Most of the crowd is confused, but not me, because I have super sekrit Fall knowledge (that "knowledge" like "know," a ledge filled with knowledge: a whole lot of knowing of stuff) and I knew what to expect.
Overall: just brilliant, considering the circumstances. I don't know where they found these guys, but all three of the musicians are outstanding, as good as (and it breaks my heart to say this) Pritchfordwistle in almost every way possible. Sure, they'll probably have to turn in their Fallgruppe union cards come June 2, but they have me really excited for the next few shows I'll be seeing...if they can do this on one day's notice... Color me impressed. By the time they get to Chicago (hiya Kris!) they should be one shit hot band.
I'll save the corny "always different, always the same," except, you know, it's true. The Fall. Amazing and bizarre, the eternal forkout....
Setlist:
Bo Demmick
Midnight In Aspen/Pacifying Joint
Sparta FC
Mountain Energei
Wrong Place, Right Time
What About Us
I Can Hear The Grass Grow (encore 1)
Mr. Pharmacist (encore 2)
posted by frankenspock at 3:16 AM
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