|
Day trips to Seattle barely happen for me, though I wish they'd happen more. The lack of my own car, a free schedule, or money for the excess gas generally gets in the way, but sometimes, there's a show going on that you just simply can't resist scrapping anything else in your books just to go and see. Case in point - Statistics. The Seattle jaunt has happened only twice before - one you'll read about later in this article, and the other was a show that ended up being cancelled (The Cure and Muse among the players scheduled - talk about bitter disappointment!). So much for being back in early 2005, Denver Dalley and his musical entourage have yet to reappear in western Canada over a year later. So what does one do? One goes to him instead. Meeting halfway, as it were.
Naturally, there's more to Seattle than just its live music and its weird obsession with creepy clown faces (a building near Seattle Center and the club I'd end up later on that night both sport the nightmarish figures). So off I went early with a companion, and before we knew it, we were sitting in Ivar's on the waterfront having an interesting conversation with our Hugh Laurie-like waiter (both in looks and demeanour in his House role) about mashed potatoes. After that, we strolled the steep streets of the city, exchanging photo ops in the magnificent public library and peeking into some curios shops in the gallery district of Pioneer Square. It's a city full of huge buildings, huge signs, huge stores, huge hills.... and mountains of character. I could explore there for ages I'm sure.
Anyhow, by 5 or so we were heading back away from right downtown to explore further out before grabbing some dinner. We drove past Neumo's where the show was taking place and noted the bands were there loading in, so we stopped in for a little pre-show chat. Everyone seemed extremely laid back, almost bored. Soundcheck is soundcheck is soundcheck I guess. After that, off to a great little Mexican restaurant that I might not have even known was there if I'd been on my own. My companion had a friend in the city who frequented the place, and joined us for our meal. Oh yeah. Nothing would make the night complete without a little embarrassment, right? And what could be more ridiculous than getting back to the car only to find the alarm trigger not functioning and having the car alarm go off for a few minutes before hushing up. We startled bikers on a nearby patio and undoubtedly annoyed many passersby but hey, what can you do. And then, boom, we were on our way back to the club.
I arrived back at Neumo's in the middle of the Panda & Angel set. A local opener that as far as I know came on board pretty late in the runnings, they seemed to have everyone's attention pretty solidly when I showed up. Quite honestly, I think a big hunk of the crowd was there for this set, and for the following set by The Pale Pacific. It was an all-ages gig, which always attracts younger and more enthusiastic people who often don't get to see shows by bands they like. Most of the legal-aged crowd was upstairs talking noisily and drinking, but all in all, the entire place was pretty sparsely occupied. The ones on the floor though perhaps had a bit of a relationship with the local bands playing the bill and were mostly just into seeing them while they had the chance to in the all-ages environment. This is halfway awesome and halfway crappy. Awesome : people coming out and getting into the hometown bands. There's nothing as great as supporting your own scene. It shows the city and venue owners that live music is worthwhile, it creates a social atmosphere and unity amongst the audience, and gives the bands much-needed support and a positive lift. Crappy : the bands that are spending lord-knows-how-much to travel far from home for a really long time get the fizzling crowd, the people who stick around just because they paid, so why not, or the curious folks, but they lose all the people who couldn't be bothered to hear something new, or who had to go catch the bus or go to bed so they could head to work/school/whatever in the morning.
Whatever we had in store later on, I chose a poor song to walk in on for Panda & Angel. I found the tune to have a really dull vocal melody and much too sluggish a tempo to make it in any way interesting. I have no idea which song that was, but it almost made me retreat immediately to the upstairs to put away a summery Corona or two before getting the goods. However, this all changed quickly as they hopped into the next track. Suddenly, the band was feisty and jumpy, with foot-stomping drums and chattering vocals, and a guitar sound not unlike fellow Washington indie-rock heroes, Modest Mouse. They had great extended jams and even tossed in a 'slow waltzer' at the end. There were shared male and female vocals, which was a nice touch. Both were strong and solid, which is nice to see. I might not go as far yet to say they're a great band, but considering the fluctuating nature of the live environment, they just may well be a great band. Ergo, a collective to check up on in a recorded environment, or another live show.
Up next was the Pale Pacific. This was a band that Denver Dalley, the main man of the Statistics, seemed pretty stoked on, having played with them before in Seattle. I'd given them a bit of a listen before coming down just to familiarize myself a bit and I had liked what I'd heard thus far. They definitely had the biggest draw of the night, with even a few dancers thrown in. People were really excited about them. The band was personable, making jokes and silly comments, and just keeping the whole vibe really casual and friendly. They were very entertaining on stage, with a bit of a vague indie-art-emo deal going on. It had that sharp punk-derived tempo and the softer vocal and wistfulness of good ol' emo shoved together. Then combine that here and there with the slightly-absurd bippity alt-pop of Self and you’ve got this band in the bag. They tossed in a couple snazzy covers too that might have confused some of the younger folks in the audience. Billy Joel's "Movin' Out" was on the menu (Billy Joel covers always put me somewhere between cracking up and being completely floored. It seems so offbase to choose him as a cover subject but it always seems to create some neat results), and near the set-end was the Police's "Walking On The Moon." That was cool, they gave it such a new flavour. I had listened to it online somewhere, and it was one of those that took me a moment to quite figure out what it was. You knew the lyrics but they were so out of context it was hard to place them right away. Beautiful.
Extraordinarily entertaining throughout the whole thing though was singer Gabe Archer's manic onstage freneticism. The guy's just completely off the rails, particularly behind the keys. He's playing with such a feverish rage, up off the stool, back on it, standing on it, whatever, and he frequently would whack the thing backwards and topple it over just because his limbs were spazzing around so much. I loved it!
Now what's bugging me most is that I didn't check up on the final song they played because it was one of the most gorgeous things I have ever heard. I think it might be "Sucker Punch" but I can't say that for certain (either way, "Sucker Punch" is a gorgeous song). I was up on the balcony when they played this part of the set, sort of behind the stage, so I had a good view both of the band and of the swaying, enraptured crowd, including Dalley, who was slumped on the backstage doorjamb looking quite taken with the tune. The song was out of this world, with delicate sounds and soaring pieces. Simply stunning, and an impressive way to close a set that was already quite memorable. [Editor's Note - I just received word from Gabe Archer that this last tune was actually "Start/Stop." That does not negate my earlier statement about "Sucker Punch" being beautiful. You can listen to both and see which you like better here].
Maria Taylor was part of the touring contingent of the show. She's lent her voice to oodles of projects in the Saddle Creek family, but as evidenced here, is also quite a competent songwriter on her own. She sings sweet, soft, breathy countryish ballads for the most part. The songs soar and lilt, and yes, definitely the breathy voice is key. It's extremely saccharine and feminine, and she keeps it all in the family by inviting not only her sister and her brother along as part of her band, but also Denver Dalley. The lyrics in songs during the set like "Speak Easy" and "Birmingham 1982" showcase the whimsical, kittens-and-rainbows aesthetic that she paints with her songs. Things sound a little bit sad, but perhaps in reality, more contemplative and longing when one listens to the magical words she's singing. Honestly, her drummer really did it for me. The guy was incredible. Anyhow, beyond the songs themselves, Taylor was a gentle performer, occassionally stepping around the stage towards one of her bandmates, with a guitar slung across her shoulders that was just about larger than she was. Simple tunes, a pretty voice, a lovely set.
And now, the main attraction. It's been over a year since I last saw Dalley and his crew, which at the time was an entirely different crew than this time around. He had his own drummer (who also ended up being incredible - it was a night of fantastic drumming!) and his little brother on stage with him. Herding himself off to one side of the stage, he appeared friendly, as usual, and perhaps a bit... I don't even know. I'm not going to say 'nervous' or 'awkward' because he wasn't really. Reserved maybe is the right word for it. Perhaps it was something about suddenly finding himself in front of a room even emptier than it had been earlier in the night, when it still was pretty fricking empty. Quality over quantity is key though, even in your audience, and on this night, Neumo's scanty crowd included the most important little fan of all, Dalley's nephew. You sort of got the feeling the entire set was played just for that little guy, who stayed calmly on dad's back the whole time, peering happily over his shoulder to the stage, a big, wide-eyed smile directed unwaveringly at his uncle. It was pretty great.
The set was somewhat brief, given the audience I suppose, which was a shame to say the least. He stuck mostly to the new songs from "Often Lie," but tossed in a couple from his older recordings as well. There was a much different feeling this night than either from the times I saw him before, or from the recordings, and this was due to the lack of anything electronic. No loops, no keys, no synths, not even the borderline-digitization afforded a voice by a megaphone. This was a straight-ahead, stripped-down set. Being familiar with the songs in their full, electronics-laced state, I thought a few of the tunes lacked that little bit of depth and spice that makes the project so extraordinary, but still, Dalley managed to use some clever plucking and pedals to create a few of those chiming, otherworldly noises. I miss the reverb though. Reverb on everything!
Okay so nonetheless, he pulled it off. I'd expect no less, since the guy really is quite the little genius. His demeanour remained a bit meek through everything - including offstage - as he smiled gently and thanked various people over and over, saying nothing but the kindest words about everyone he could. His singing voice is soft and mellow, a bit mournful, like staring out a window on a rainy afternoon, wanting to go outside, yet not wanting to get wet. His onstage movements aren't over the top either, but he shuffles around and tosses his head when it suits him. There was a point where he paused between songs to banter with the crowd a bit and swap his guitar for a bass. He wasn't really paying attention to what he was doing though and as he spoke, he tried to pull apart the two instruments, which were locked together out of his sight by entwined cords. Finally, he stopped mid-sentence with a confused noise, and looked down to see just what he had done to tangle things up so badly. A light chuckle, and he continued.
The world though, will never cease to amaze me in its strange round-about-everything's-connected manner. Near the end of the set, Dalley announced he was about to play a cover by a band that's very important to everybody, or at least, should be very important to everybody. "....Creed," he said after a silence. A nervous chuckle emerged from the crowd. Was he serious? Surely not. Was he being sarcastic but going to cover a Creed song anyhow? I think that would have been pretty amusing, if kind of a waste of a song. Dalley played it up for a bit, reacting to the audience's awkward silence. He elicited a few laughs as he hammed it up. "Oh come on, I could do it... one of these..." - he rakes his outstretched hand in an arc in front of his chest - "...and then one of these..." - he makes a fist and draws it in towards himself with a head movement as though that motion took everything out of his soul right there in front of your eyes. Awesome... and painful. I think he's been practicing this. But it was hilarious.
Getting back to business, he excused himself and said, "No no no no, this is 'Another Space Song.'"
This is cool for a hundred reasons, not the least of which being that Failure is the most incredible band of our time, despite so few people knowing much about them. But, kiddies, Ken Andrews' hands have been laid upon many of your favourite projects, they inspired the music of many of your favourite bands, and here we found another one. I've only heard one other Failure tune played in front of me before, by the Vancouver band Retrograde, who you can listen to on the audio player, who played "Stuck On You" at a show of theirs probably almost three years ago by now. The reaction it brought out of me shocked even myself, as I yelped and burst to the stage front nearly in tears, I was so overjoyed. Some time later, after that iron-clad Failure bond was established with Retrograde, I joined them for my first trip into Seattle to see Year Of The Rabbit, a post-Failure project of Andrews', play an in-store at Easy Street and a show at Studio 7. I didn't go to see another band in Seattle until this night here, and kaboom, Failure is being played on stage in front of me. Cool enough too that the very first band I ever photographed with a professional camera was Blinker The Star, which at the time was housing Failure's drummer, Kellii Scott. Awesome.
I had another 'I-can't-believe-it's happening' reaction and honestly had to kneel down for a moment to get my bearings. I shook like a leaf for a moment until I could suspend my disbelief and get back to earth. Well, I sort of floated effortlessly a few inches above earth while the band played that song, but still. It's amazing how shocking it is still to 'discover' another fan of Failure. It definitely brings people closer! It was a beautiful rendition of the song, and unlike the Pale Pacific's colourfully-altered cover songs, was played delicately true to its original form, with twinkling guitar lines and gentle words.
I'm of course not trying to do anything to downplay or overshadow Dalley's original songs. Anyone who's read through this website for a while knows I absolutely adore the man and his music, but this definitely established part of a root of just why he's so incredible. Case in point, his song "No Promises" was part of the set. Again, a bit of a lack through having no cavernous reverb or other effects on the song, but it's still tear-jerking. That odd theme of cellular phones and loneliness was upkept in the set by his playing so many of the new songs. This is the modern way, I suppose, having your only lifeline to anyone be the phone attached to your ear, and that is a bit of a sombre realization. For seeming like such a pleasant, charming and happy guy, it sounds an awful lot like he's really gone through some crappy times. Always happens to the nicest ones, they just get stomped on.
Well, that was that. The slower songs were largely kept in the vault tonight, the audience shuffled off fairly quickly, Dalley's nephew suddenly fell asleep, and the bands rummaged around moving gear towards their vans. It's still early in the tour for them, so no one was exhausted, but there was no walloping party atmosphere in the room either. Tuesdays affect everyone. After a few brief see-ya-laters, my companion and I left the bands to their business, and wandered around in circles on the blocks around the club to see what mid-week nightlife in Seattle was like. Mostly, everything was silent, but then we came across a street that had three or four very-evil looking, dark, slick, modern bars that were noisy and pretty crowded. There was a statuary that had bronzes of Elvis and Buddy Holly in the foyer. And a second-floor ballroom that had odd music coming from it. Intrigued by the commotion, we found an open door, and found ourselves in an institutional hallway that smelled like cleaning supplies and crayons. Yes, just like your elementary school. The leaflets around the bulletin boards told of various dance and spiritual classes, and not knowing exactly what was happening upstairs at the moment, we decided against venturing up the ornate stairwell to investigate the ballroom. Yawns were overtaking, and we jetted off then for and overnight rest on an air mattress provided by the lovely gal who took us for Mexican food earlier in the afternoon.
What does one do on a suddenly-gorgeous morning in Seattle? Hit the grocery store! Before 8am, we found ourselves outside Trader Joe's, which wasn't yet open, but had all its flower bouquets on display ooutside the front doors. I was enraptured by red sunflowers, and if not for the risk of them not being allowed back into Canada with me, I wanted to buy up the entire lot. Not so, inside we picked up beer and vitamins like healthy girls ought to do, and off we went to find breakfast, but not before spying into a lounge packed with thrift store sofas and hookahs. What? It's called the Rabbit Hole. Hey what do you know, another Ken Andrews related thing. I'm reaching. We made a pit stop for beverages at a small vegetarian cafe that wouldn't be serving full breakfast til later in the morning, and then scooted back to city centre to oggle the Experience Music Project building and eventually score an amazing breakfast at a little 50's-style diner. It was a bit of a hodge-podge of a place, but the waitress was a riot, the food was well-priced, and delicious. When we went in, the waitress said we could sit where we liked and she'd be along in a moment becuase she was busy holding a wriggling ball of a kitten in what I think was a toque. Some guy just had this kitten he was trying to get rid of because he couldn't take care of it. Anyhow, next time i go back I'm a) checking out the jukebox, and b) checking out the sourdough pancakes! The pecan waffle I had was luxurious though, and here's the intersection for anyone who might want to try it out sometime. 24 hours too, so no fear if you're stranded and hungry in Seattle at the end of a long day, you have good vittles right downtown.
As you can see, we also had a little feathered brunch guest. The walk back to the car afterwards brought us past this interestingly-painted art car, and a very unfortunate but hilarious sign that, when viewing the entire thing, actually said "Woodworking Classes."
On the way back towards Vancouver, I witnessed one of the most incredible phenomenons I have ever seen. Maybe this is a really common sight in America around the 4th of July. Celebrations in Canada are a bit hokey alongside this, but while navigating our way into a parking lot of a gigantic outlet mall in the middle of nowhere, we came across a massive collection of hand-painted signs in garish colours with cryptic things on them like "Pink Cadillac" - what was this all about? We followed a meandering road behind a casino and onto a Native reservation, ending up in a vast gravel field that was full of parked cars, makeshift shop stalls, and more of those crazy signs. Fireworks. 4th of July fireworks. I've never seen anything like it - there were rows of portapotties, dozens of parked vehicles, dozens of booths covered in American flags and more garish signs, and even a freeking testing range off to the side. Surreal.
That pretty much did it for Seattle summer 2005. At the end of it all, I was ecstatic to witness another side of Statistics. It's being proven that there are many.
ElsewhereStatistics websiteMaria Taylor website at Saddle Creek Pale Pacific website Panda & Angel website By Andy Scheffler |
