Dancing With Myself About Architecture

This column catches me in a time of transition. Having moved house at the beginning of August, my recent leisure hours have been dedicated to rearranging furniture and maximizing shelf space rather than indulging in the likes of Spoon’s Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga or St. Vincent’s Marry Me. Furthermore, hunting down new tracks has been severely impacted by the towering ineptitude of a party that will henceforth be referred to as “those motherfuckers at Telus.” But that’s neither here nor there. (Much like my internet access was neither here nor there for two weeks.)

As we enter the latter stages of the month, the boxes have begun to dissipate, order is slowly being restored and “those motherfuckers at Telus” have offered some evidence that they might just be sons of bitches. (That said, the moniker will stand.) Consequently, I can actually consider leaving the house without a wave of guilt (and just a splash of domestic obligation) immediately crashing down upon me. Around these parts, there’s no better bait to lure me from my domicile than a rock show.

You can consider my newly liberated calendar marked with the following events:

Au Revoir Simone with Oh No! Oh My!

August 22 – The Media Club

Forget for a moment that this Brooklyn trio’s The Bird of Music is one hell of a dreamy (in every possible respect) album. Yes, “Fallen Snow” is undeniably lovely, “Dark Halls” is poppy as could be and the geeky charm of “Stars” threatens to redline. That’s all well and good but what you really need to know about Au Revoir Simone is that they’ve kinda-sorta jammed with David Lynch. I saw it on YouTube, so I know that it’s true. Openers Oh No! Oh My! lifted their name from a The Robot Ate Me song and more than a few of their nasally nuances from T.R.A.M.’s Ryland Bouchard. Their eponymous debut features the quirky, jerky “I Have No Sister,” which in turn features a stellar shout out to Audrey Hepburn. The Texans will be carting along their spanking new EP, Between The Devil And The Sea. We’d probably do well to take notice.

Bobby Conn

September 7 – The Media Club

True story: The first time I saw Bobby Conn play, it was at the behest of a whiskey-swigging Chicagoan perched outside The Starfish Room. “Bobby will change your life,” he assured me. That didn’t quite happen. Instead, Bobby donned a pair of bear paws and stroked my face while informing the rest of the audience, “These paws have no claws.” When later asked to describe Conn’s music, I offered, “Maybe if Ziggy Stardust had fronted The Jackson 5…” Since then, it seems that Bobby has only grown more detached from any approximation of reality. To the uninitiated: I won’t claim that this show will change your life. However, it’ll likely touch you in some way or another.

Okkervil River

September 9 – Richard’s on Richards

Two years ago, my aspirations to interview Okkervil River frontman Will Sheff were quashed when he blew out his vocal chords. This time around, I was simply too intimidated to even attempt it. Repeated ventures into the Austin band’s back catalogue have convinced me that Sheff is virtually unparalleled amongst contemporary songwriters. While recently released The Stage Names may fall just short of the conceptual brilliance of 2005’s Black Sheep Boy, its looser structure more closely approximates the band’s devastating live performances. Make no mistake: For all of Sheff’s quasi-poetic prowess, an Okkervil River show isn’t a namby-pamby, intellectual affair. It’s a visceral and celebratory experience that promises to leave everyone in attendance shaken but exhilarated.

In that respect, it’s precisely what a rock show should be. It’s what draws us from the safety of our homes and brings us to our feet. You can expect to see me at stage right, waiting to once again be baptized in the sweat spawned by the devil’s music.