Proof positive that I've been in this industry too long: when I hear a good song, I don't think "damn, that's good", I think "damn, that'd be good for a closing credit sequence". Case in point: the first track off the as yet unreleased EP from Death Cab for Cutie, whom I caught live last night. Music supervisors: snag that track.
But before that, I had to endure the Dismemberment Plan. Twice now I've suffered through this band because they happen to be opening for some other group I really do want to see, and twice now I've been astounded by their crowd. But first, the band: I hate their music, it frustrates me. It could be the pitch of the singer's voice, it could be that noodling kabbalahesque fuckery of math rock, it could be something much more ad hominem like the simian headjerks and serious "I'm playing now" browline of the bassist. And it's not as though I want all my lead singers in tight leather, but slacks have no place on stage. Slacks. What are you, the Yes for our generation? Hurry up and break up already.
However, their audience is mesmerizing. Fueled by a combination of Mountain Dew and Tom Lee paycheques tucked into their dress shirt pockets, this audience loves them some Dismemberment Plan. They know all the lyrics. They cheer when they hear the first few notes of each song. They dance. I haven't seen this sort of enthusiasm at a show in Vancouver since...well since the last time I endured their live show when they opened for Hot Hot Heat. Or since I saw Duran Duran open for David Bowie on the Glass Spider tour.
Saving graces: Gold Chains and Enon. Immediately I want to snag that red/green/revolution song so I can "blast" that from the stereo of my old man car during my morning drive. That'd be a fine way to start each new glorious day.
