every song a finale, every tune like it's your last
There has been a lot of instrumental melodic drama that I have loved, listened to and replayed in the genre of post-rock, and some of it is very good (Sigur Ros, Mono, Godspeed You Black Emperor) and some I can take or leave (Labradford, The Album Leaf, various GYBE side projects) but, for me, there's no band that makes the trip between good and 'meh' as often as Explosions in the Sky. I think it's that, if I have to have my pretentious rock music without vocals, I demand that it come from the melancholy end of the spectrum, for to paraphrase from Anna Karenina -- "every happy song sounds the same, but every sad song is sad in its own way."
But, still, you know, the lore is that Explosions in the Sky formed when drummer, Chris Hrasky, moved from Chicago to Austin and posted an ad in a record store saying, "Wanted: Sad, Triumphant Rock Band" And that's all that their music has been. It's achingly beautiful guitar work with this building percussion that comes off like a march to new dawn. The post rock crowd is filled with music that tends towards the scale of dark and complex, yet fascinating and compelling, but Explosions in the Sky spends a lot of its time in realms of sweetness and light. It's no surprise that, while Godspeed You Black Emperor entered the mainstream by doing soundtracks for zombie movies, Explosions in the Sky got their big break doing the soundtrack for a film about high school football jocks.
Not that I hold it against them. I, for one, liked Friday Night Lights for eventhough it was a sports movie, it was a surprisingly subversive one; often skewering the insanity of sports culture but also having its cake and indulging in the mythic appeal of gladiatorial bloodsports. It was also a good vehicle for the band, because Explosions in the Sky is all about glory and triumph. You know, post-rockers have this staple cycle of quiet music building into catharsis and musical explosion. Sigur Ros starts off with some spare, minimalist singing and eight minutes later, you're plunged into this chorus of whales and thrashing guitars. Explosions in the Sky, does something similar, but it's like every one of their songs sounds like some grand finale; building inexorably from a glittering guitar start to a thunderous crescendo of snare drums and feedback.
And when I mean every one of their songs sounds like a finale. I mean every goddamned one.
It doesn't really sink in until you've seen them live, like I just did tonight; catching their 2007 tour debut on a whim. I'm in New York for a few weeks of business, and I saw tickets on Craigslist for the Wordless Music Series show tonight; so nipped off for a few minutes at lunch, took the subway down to Union Square and met up with a perfect stranger in front of the Gandhi statue to swap cash for tickets to not bad seats. The venue was a church-like auditorium near Lincoln Center,a gorgeous place with fantastic acoustics. The semi sacred setting made me think that it'd be a perfect venue for some of the Projekt and 4AD bands that I'd seen in the past, and also made me realize how much of a spiritual successor post-rock was to the ethereal and art-rock sounds of my youth. Except, the performers didn't resemble black clad tortured poets. They looked like farmboys -- farmboys from Texas.
They didn't say anything when they took stage. They just started playing, and they never stopped. When one song ended, one or two members of the band would hold their riff for a few interstitial beats while the other members reset themselves and started up the next song. There was no break, no silence between one piece and the next, and that meant that there was no applause between songs -- no chance for the audience to interrupt the reverie that the band was building. Don't ask me for which songs have been played, because I could never tell Explosions In The Sky's songs apart in the past. Their sound is almost trademarked. I've tuned into WZBC in evenings past, and caught a song right in the middle and knew, right away from the sound of the drums and guitar work, that it was Explosions In The Sky, but could never tell you the name because all of their songs have the same formula. Twinkle one guitar. Add two other backing guitars. Add drums. Build volume. Build volume. Catharsis. End. Repeat.
That was the concert, too. But it was like series of every closing encore of every awesome show you've ever attended, where the performers have pulled you over to their side, given you every emotion that they've invested in their music and belt out one last song that you've always wanted to hear, because it encapsulates every emotional memory that you've shared with these artists, eventhough the two of you are complete strangers to each other. That connection and that energy is what Explosions in the Sky delivers in their concerts, in one song after another and it's what one imagines to be the equivalency of that cliche of carpe diem, living every day of your life like it was the last one you'd ever have. Play every song like it's a finale.
It is, of course, both fortunate and unfortunate that modern technology has not figured out how to record and digitize this energy. The new album stopped playing on the CD player fifteen minutes ago and its music is already fading from my memory, but the fury and majesty of the concert still lingers.
But, still, you know, the lore is that Explosions in the Sky formed when drummer, Chris Hrasky, moved from Chicago to Austin and posted an ad in a record store saying, "Wanted: Sad, Triumphant Rock Band" And that's all that their music has been. It's achingly beautiful guitar work with this building percussion that comes off like a march to new dawn. The post rock crowd is filled with music that tends towards the scale of dark and complex, yet fascinating and compelling, but Explosions in the Sky spends a lot of its time in realms of sweetness and light. It's no surprise that, while Godspeed You Black Emperor entered the mainstream by doing soundtracks for zombie movies, Explosions in the Sky got their big break doing the soundtrack for a film about high school football jocks.
Not that I hold it against them. I, for one, liked Friday Night Lights for eventhough it was a sports movie, it was a surprisingly subversive one; often skewering the insanity of sports culture but also having its cake and indulging in the mythic appeal of gladiatorial bloodsports. It was also a good vehicle for the band, because Explosions in the Sky is all about glory and triumph. You know, post-rockers have this staple cycle of quiet music building into catharsis and musical explosion. Sigur Ros starts off with some spare, minimalist singing and eight minutes later, you're plunged into this chorus of whales and thrashing guitars. Explosions in the Sky, does something similar, but it's like every one of their songs sounds like some grand finale; building inexorably from a glittering guitar start to a thunderous crescendo of snare drums and feedback.
And when I mean every one of their songs sounds like a finale. I mean every goddamned one.
It doesn't really sink in until you've seen them live, like I just did tonight; catching their 2007 tour debut on a whim. I'm in New York for a few weeks of business, and I saw tickets on Craigslist for the Wordless Music Series show tonight; so nipped off for a few minutes at lunch, took the subway down to Union Square and met up with a perfect stranger in front of the Gandhi statue to swap cash for tickets to not bad seats. The venue was a church-like auditorium near Lincoln Center,a gorgeous place with fantastic acoustics. The semi sacred setting made me think that it'd be a perfect venue for some of the Projekt and 4AD bands that I'd seen in the past, and also made me realize how much of a spiritual successor post-rock was to the ethereal and art-rock sounds of my youth. Except, the performers didn't resemble black clad tortured poets. They looked like farmboys -- farmboys from Texas.
They didn't say anything when they took stage. They just started playing, and they never stopped. When one song ended, one or two members of the band would hold their riff for a few interstitial beats while the other members reset themselves and started up the next song. There was no break, no silence between one piece and the next, and that meant that there was no applause between songs -- no chance for the audience to interrupt the reverie that the band was building. Don't ask me for which songs have been played, because I could never tell Explosions In The Sky's songs apart in the past. Their sound is almost trademarked. I've tuned into WZBC in evenings past, and caught a song right in the middle and knew, right away from the sound of the drums and guitar work, that it was Explosions In The Sky, but could never tell you the name because all of their songs have the same formula. Twinkle one guitar. Add two other backing guitars. Add drums. Build volume. Build volume. Catharsis. End. Repeat.
That was the concert, too. But it was like series of every closing encore of every awesome show you've ever attended, where the performers have pulled you over to their side, given you every emotion that they've invested in their music and belt out one last song that you've always wanted to hear, because it encapsulates every emotional memory that you've shared with these artists, eventhough the two of you are complete strangers to each other. That connection and that energy is what Explosions in the Sky delivers in their concerts, in one song after another and it's what one imagines to be the equivalency of that cliche of carpe diem, living every day of your life like it was the last one you'd ever have. Play every song like it's a finale.
It is, of course, both fortunate and unfortunate that modern technology has not figured out how to record and digitize this energy. The new album stopped playing on the CD player fifteen minutes ago and its music is already fading from my memory, but the fury and majesty of the concert still lingers.