Vampire Weekend
Just got back from a Vampire Weekend show at the Fox Theatre in
Oakland. The venue is a gorgeous 1920’s built, 2,800 seater that must
have been renovated in recent years but kept righteously close to its
original form. The band is made up of five Columbia University grads
who are meshing Ska with punk with Surfer-movie-guitar with minor-
league-hockey-game-organ with the intelligence of five musicians who
were smart enough to go to Columbia and driven enough to play a lot
together while spewing “can’t stop my leg” beats that end really
abruptly and make you want to clap really hard. As I stood there,
trying but failing to stop my leg, I thought about the current state
of rock and how interesting it is that a group of handsome yet very un-
rocker-looking gentleman are owning the stage so well and gyrating
perfectly to the music that comes straight from their, well, 20-
something histories on this planet. Lives that is, which began while I
was a freshman, maybe a sophomore at NYU, hearing about something
called e-mail that allowed you to communicate in written bursts if you
could find a computer. I got lost in the band’s reggae influenced
songs that reminded me of the kind of music that works in perfect tune
with Wes Anderson montage previews, where the cast is announced by
that guy with the God-like voice while the hope and hop of life-
affirming-music plays us through sublime glimpses of the film. “Bill
Murray…Jason Schwartzman…Lilly Tomlin….And Owen Wilson, as the kid who
comes from wealth but went nuts in his New Hampshire boarding school
while wearing white turtlenecks and pursing his lips. Behind the
band, just under five, large crystal chandeliers was their album
cover, a close-up of a blond girl with the words Vampire Weekend over
her head. Her face did not leave us for the entire show and at times
her eyes lit like Satan’s and I became positive that every word I was
hearing was rooted in one horrific weekend. There was no doubt that
this hot blond chick whose cheekbones and wide-set eyes made her ideal
for any casting-call in search of the rich, mean girl who puts out,
was representative of a near-death relationship with our singer. She
was there, I decided, to tell everyone who might not know, that yes,
due to her appearance and innately vicious sensuality, that she was
once very successful in utterly destroying this heterosexual suburban-
American dude up there, to the extent that he would need to write and
sing and try to blood-let all she left him with…one weekend….a long
time ago. Probably in the early 00’s. Take that, he’s saying, holding
his guitar high to the screaming audience, the strings nearly touching
his ear. “How do you like me now?”
My closing thoughts on the state of rock music in 2010. The live show
is crucial when attempting to appreciate a band. If you hear something
interesting when listening to the studio/radio version of the song,
try to go and see the band. (The money isn’t always so bad) I was
blown away by Vampire Weekend on stage, but before going, hardly cared
when hearing their radio friendly hits. I felt the same for My Morning
Jacket, The Kings of Leon and Cory Chisel. Very pleasantly surprised.
I don’t think songs are meant to be recorded in pieces and then put
together by a producer. They’re meant to be done right there, right
then, right now. And how well you play should matter way more than it
used to in the MTV years. Not that Bananarama didn’t rock.
My new novel Peep Show is receiving some amazing praise from
reviewers. Good reviews equals a very happy author. Come see me out
there on tour this summer and fall. All my reading dates are on my
website. Hope you have a great day.
October 14th, 2010 at 6:00 am
Hope you have a great day as well!