3.5 QUATER UPDATE
So the semester is - holy shit - approaching the halfway mark already. If I could describe it in one word it would be: disciplined. Monday: Class. Tuesday: Class. Wednesday: Gym. Thursday: Homework. Friday: Movie or non hangover-inducing social activity. Saturday: Gym and homework and maybe people if they are around (often as not these days). Sunday: Homework, Sunday Night Football at Susie's. Repeat.
It's worked for me in that I've been able to stay fit and sane. Thanks to hittin' the books so hard I've also been able to open up room for some more ambitious social activities on some weekends, like visiting Dan a few weeks back and the art auction coming up (I already have half of my required work for the upcoming week finished). Still though, the routine lends itself to a certain narrowing of affect, to put it as dully as possible. I needed to shake some shit up.
Luckily word came down that Swans would be playing in Philly on a Saturday. Perfect road trip time, perfect road trip distance. Four and a half hours is just enough time to get some thinkin' done without your ass getting too sore.
The drive down was really nice. We're at or close to peak fall foliage around here, so heading south was kind of like going back in time. Adding to the effect was the fact that the middle part of the journey took me down Route 206 in Jersey - the exact same route I used to take to visit Ilya when he was at Princeton. That was were we launched our Centralia trips, had some of our best drunken discussions, and viewed some of our finest Herzog and Herzog-related films. Those were some really good times.
There were also some amusing (well, to me) signs and billboards along the way, with my personal favorite being a house with a hand-drawn sign touting "FREE DIRT." You might guess this was also in New Jersey.
Getting into and walking around Philadelphia was pretty easy and uneventful. To get to Union Transfer I had to cross an empty, Eraserhead-like quasi-industrial zone, but 'tis all in good fun in an old northeastern city. Union Transfer itself was very nice, it reminded me a little bit of Terminal 5 in New York, but the concert space itself was slightly smaller, and there was a separate wraparound bar area between the main entrance and the entrance to the concert space proper. I got there shortly after doors, but all the spots along the very front of the stage were already taken. Luckily I espied that the entire standing-room balcony was empty, and I rushed up there. I put myself squarely in the center, with the railing in front of me and a support pole on my left. This way I knew nobody could fuck with me as I worked myself into a Swans fugue-state during the show.
And regarding the show itself... Damn, I wish I was (were?) a better (gooder?) writer. Writing music is hard. The best I can say is that it was the loudest goddamn thing I've ever heard, and that I felt completely, totally refreshed afterwards. Mentally, physically, everything. It was like getting a deep-muscle massage from a burly Turkish man. I felt like embracing all of my brothers and sisters in humankind after.
The live band is six people, all men and all older (Michael Gira himself is 58, which astounds me considering the kind of shows he puts on every night). Two guitars, a bass, keyboard, drums, and what can only be described as "Additional Percussion", which consisted of a shirtless, wiry-muscled guy bashing shit for the duration of the set (which was 2 and a half hours). It worked better than I just described it. Also: that man's job is awesome.
The music, for the most part, is just waves and waves of sound. Not without tone or other musical elements, but not abounding with them either. The best Swans studio music, imho, takes droning repetition and add subtle variations. This subtlety was mostly lost at the show, but the droning quality was incredibly powerful. There were whole sections where I would close my eyes (still dimly perceiving the blue light from the stage) and just let the music wash over me. Like I said, it was incredibly loud. But not jagged, not like a metal sound. Like being enveloped in a thick, viscous liquid. It's everywhere, pressing on you.
I think the reason I've never gone as hard for singer-songwriter types is that they stimulate a part of the brain that I already use too much, and want to get away from.
Like I said, they played for about 2 and a half hours. Straight, no breaks. I was pretty jazzed up afterward, both from the show and from the massive amount of coffee I had drank earlier (to achieve MAXIMUM ALERTNESS). I got a beer in the bar area outside, and chatted with a couple of people and just sort of let it soak in.
On the way out I notice there's a pretty big crowd by the merch table. Sure enough, Michael Gira himself is there signing things and talking with people. I didn't need anything signed (I already have a signed version of their most recent album) but I couldn't pass up the chance to shake the man's hand. So I did and I think I just said something like "I'm a really big fan, and I just wanted to say thank you for making such powerful music." I don't know if I said it that clearly or that direct, but that was the gist. He replied with a soft, "Thank you. Thank you very much for coming." He had a good handshake, but what surprised me was how soft his voice was after all the howling madness of the previous few hours.
I walked back to my hotel, and had a nice easy trip home today. One of those things I just needed to record for posterity, you know? I've never been to a show that punishing and came out feeling so refreshed after. It's good to break up the routine sometimes.
As a P.S., the best/most overwhelming song was "Coward." I'm not as into the early Swans stuff as I am with the Jarboe era and with their most recent two albums, but it was absolutely incredible live. The Additional Percussion guy was unhinged. And again, hard to square the howling, anguished vocalist of this performance with the softspoken gentleman I met after the show.
It's worked for me in that I've been able to stay fit and sane. Thanks to hittin' the books so hard I've also been able to open up room for some more ambitious social activities on some weekends, like visiting Dan a few weeks back and the art auction coming up (I already have half of my required work for the upcoming week finished). Still though, the routine lends itself to a certain narrowing of affect, to put it as dully as possible. I needed to shake some shit up.
Luckily word came down that Swans would be playing in Philly on a Saturday. Perfect road trip time, perfect road trip distance. Four and a half hours is just enough time to get some thinkin' done without your ass getting too sore.
The drive down was really nice. We're at or close to peak fall foliage around here, so heading south was kind of like going back in time. Adding to the effect was the fact that the middle part of the journey took me down Route 206 in Jersey - the exact same route I used to take to visit Ilya when he was at Princeton. That was were we launched our Centralia trips, had some of our best drunken discussions, and viewed some of our finest Herzog and Herzog-related films. Those were some really good times.
There were also some amusing (well, to me) signs and billboards along the way, with my personal favorite being a house with a hand-drawn sign touting "FREE DIRT." You might guess this was also in New Jersey.
Getting into and walking around Philadelphia was pretty easy and uneventful. To get to Union Transfer I had to cross an empty, Eraserhead-like quasi-industrial zone, but 'tis all in good fun in an old northeastern city. Union Transfer itself was very nice, it reminded me a little bit of Terminal 5 in New York, but the concert space itself was slightly smaller, and there was a separate wraparound bar area between the main entrance and the entrance to the concert space proper. I got there shortly after doors, but all the spots along the very front of the stage were already taken. Luckily I espied that the entire standing-room balcony was empty, and I rushed up there. I put myself squarely in the center, with the railing in front of me and a support pole on my left. This way I knew nobody could fuck with me as I worked myself into a Swans fugue-state during the show.
And regarding the show itself... Damn, I wish I was (were?) a better (gooder?) writer. Writing music is hard. The best I can say is that it was the loudest goddamn thing I've ever heard, and that I felt completely, totally refreshed afterwards. Mentally, physically, everything. It was like getting a deep-muscle massage from a burly Turkish man. I felt like embracing all of my brothers and sisters in humankind after.
The live band is six people, all men and all older (Michael Gira himself is 58, which astounds me considering the kind of shows he puts on every night). Two guitars, a bass, keyboard, drums, and what can only be described as "Additional Percussion", which consisted of a shirtless, wiry-muscled guy bashing shit for the duration of the set (which was 2 and a half hours). It worked better than I just described it. Also: that man's job is awesome.
The music, for the most part, is just waves and waves of sound. Not without tone or other musical elements, but not abounding with them either. The best Swans studio music, imho, takes droning repetition and add subtle variations. This subtlety was mostly lost at the show, but the droning quality was incredibly powerful. There were whole sections where I would close my eyes (still dimly perceiving the blue light from the stage) and just let the music wash over me. Like I said, it was incredibly loud. But not jagged, not like a metal sound. Like being enveloped in a thick, viscous liquid. It's everywhere, pressing on you.
I think the reason I've never gone as hard for singer-songwriter types is that they stimulate a part of the brain that I already use too much, and want to get away from.
Like I said, they played for about 2 and a half hours. Straight, no breaks. I was pretty jazzed up afterward, both from the show and from the massive amount of coffee I had drank earlier (to achieve MAXIMUM ALERTNESS). I got a beer in the bar area outside, and chatted with a couple of people and just sort of let it soak in.
On the way out I notice there's a pretty big crowd by the merch table. Sure enough, Michael Gira himself is there signing things and talking with people. I didn't need anything signed (I already have a signed version of their most recent album) but I couldn't pass up the chance to shake the man's hand. So I did and I think I just said something like "I'm a really big fan, and I just wanted to say thank you for making such powerful music." I don't know if I said it that clearly or that direct, but that was the gist. He replied with a soft, "Thank you. Thank you very much for coming." He had a good handshake, but what surprised me was how soft his voice was after all the howling madness of the previous few hours.
I walked back to my hotel, and had a nice easy trip home today. One of those things I just needed to record for posterity, you know? I've never been to a show that punishing and came out feeling so refreshed after. It's good to break up the routine sometimes.
As a P.S., the best/most overwhelming song was "Coward." I'm not as into the early Swans stuff as I am with the Jarboe era and with their most recent two albums, but it was absolutely incredible live. The Additional Percussion guy was unhinged. And again, hard to square the howling, anguished vocalist of this performance with the softspoken gentleman I met after the show.