I saw two concerts in two days, which is a first for me. There was Sloan at Saint Andrew's Hall (Detroit) on June 22 and Yo La Tengo at Bell's Brewery on June 23. It was a live music marathon that truly tested my middle-aged stamina.
As I may have mentioned in here already, my Sloan fandom was a slow burn until fairly recently, when I finally made the deep dive and wondered what the hell took me so long. I'd considered seeing Sloan on a few of their previous tours, but for whatever reason it never seemed to happen. This time, however, I was determined that I'd see them, and wanted to see them more than ever before.
I've seen more concerts at venerable old Saint Andrew's Hall than any other venue, yet every time I drive down there, it always seems to be more of an "adventure" than it should be. After some glitchy Google maps navigation, and a few wrong turns, we pulled into our pre-paid parking garage a block over from Saint Andrew's. L. and I then ate our traditional "pre-Saint Andrew's dining destination," Sweetwater Grill across the street, where we saw a few other people decked out in Sloan t-shirts who clearly had the same idea. By this point, I was nervous in anticipation, and all I could think of was getting into Saint Andrew's and staking territory reasonably close to the stage. As is usually the case, my anxiety that the place would be full by the time we got inside was thoroughly unwarranted.
(Here was an amusing exchange with the guy checking I.D.s outside the hall--they were checking everyone's I.D.s for some reason:
Me, handing my driver's license to the guy: "Yeah, I'm old."
Guy, quietly chuckling: "Ah, you look fourteen."
Me, laughing more than I expected: "Ha! Thanks!"
I have finally learned what I refer to as "the middle-aged guidelines for general admission rock concerts": 1) ear plugs are your friends. (Save whatever hearing you have left for future concerts). 2) wear sensible shoes. (Forget about wearing fashionable but uncomfortable shoes. Nobody is looking at your feet, anyway. I wore my NOKA running shoes with their cushioned soles and my feet felt great afterwards). Those are the only two guidelines so far. I may add more later on.
Now, on to the actual concert.
Sloan was energetic, exuberant, self-effacing, and grateful for the large audience. As a band that is exponentially better-known in Canada than the United States, I think they consider Detroit to be their home away from home. It's likely the perfect place to kick off a tour: they can be a little rusty and working out the kinks, but not feel too bad about it because the crowd--comprised of at least 50 percent Canadian fans (and Midwest fans who adore them) will be forgiving. Early in the show, Chris Murphy apologized for any rustiness. If there was any, I didn't notice (except for one bum note that Patrick Pentland hit on his guitar and immediately acknowledged with a little smirk).
Besides looking forward to seeing the band perform live, I was also intrigued by their onstage dynamic in action and how the four guys (and fifth musician Gregory Macdonald) interact.
Patrick Pentland is the impossibly slender lead guitarist. He is the resident old punk rocker who, more than anyone else (though Chris Murphy is close), brings a "kick out the jams" mentality to the band. He has shorn off the big beard he had for a brief period a few years ago and, with his buzzed grey hair, tartan pants, and bright red Jesus & Mary Chain t-shirt, looks like a gracefully aging rock dude. He went into full-on early '80s hardcore punk singer mode on Sloan's "HFXNSHC." The song is a blazing fast one-minute-and-change salute to the early 1980s harcore punk scene, and Patrick took obvious glee in grabbing the mike, and shout-singing the song with his foot propped up on the monitor on the edge of the stage, like he was prime era Ian MacKaye or Keith Morris. Patrick, in fact, dedicated the song to the Descendents and Circle Jerks, who were playing in Detroit that following night and the guys were slightly disappointed they were missing.
Patrick Pentland
Andrew Scott is Sloan's drummer (unless he is performing one of his songs, in which case Chris Murphy ably fills in on drums while Andrew sings and plays guitar). Andrew is the dark, brooding, mystery man in the band--or at least that's my impression. He is intense and slightly intimidating. I have started calling him "the silver fox." I'm not sure if I heard or read that somewhere else or if I came up with the nickname myself. I suspect it's not original. With is chiseled facial features and slicked back silver hair, Andrew on the drum kit bears a resemblance to a more classically handsome Charlie Watts.
Andrew ScottJay Ferguson is the affable and friendly rhythm guitarist. On stage, he is the most unassuming guy in the band. (Andrew plays drums with physicality and flair, so I rank him as slightly less unassuming than Jay).
Finally, there is floppy-haired, bespectacled bassist Chris Murphy. "Murph" is full of enthusiasm on stage and is the band's de facto spokesman, cheerleader, ringleader, and master of ceremonies. He is the one imploring, coaxing, and cajoling the crowd to clap their hands and sing along. Along with Patrick, Murphy communicates with the fans and seems to truly care that they are having an enjoyable time.
Chris MurphyThe Sloan concert was everything I'd hoped it would be. I am thrilled that I finally saw this outstanding band in action, but wish there was a real-life "waback machine" that I could take back about 20+ years to see all the Sloan shows I missed.
L. did the honors of driving back home after the show, and we arrived home just before midnight. I figured the natural high from the concert would carry me through the workday on Friday, and that was the case. I left work a bit early, and I drove us to Kalamazoo for the Yo La Tengo concert at Bell's Brewery.
We decided to stay overnight at the Hilton in downtown K'zoo, and after a brief adventure finding the actual entrance to the hotel, we checked in and dropped off our bags in our room.
Downtown Kalamazoo is a bit, er, "sketchier" than I expected it to be, and the walk from the Hilton to Bell's--though not BAD per se--was a little unsettling. We came across several desperate looking homeless folks and other people clearly suffering from varying degrees of mental illness. It was yet another reminder that we are failing a significant percentage of our population in America.
Upon arriving at Bell's and the security check to get in, the security person deemed L.'s bag "too large" and denied her admittance. The maximum size for a bag was 6" by 9" and both L. and I swear that the bag was not larger than that. Security personnel disagreed, however. Consequently, we had to trudge back to the hotel, drop of L's bag in the hotel room, and then schlep our way back to Bell's. Thankfully, we were able to accomplish this without incident and got back to Bell's about 20 minutes or so before Yo La Tengo took the stage.
Unlike the song-oriented Sloan, YLT are much more of a vibe in a live setting (and on record, really).
Ira Kaplan is YLT's guitarist and principal singer. With his halo of curly dark hair, blue-and-yellow striped t-shirt, and svelte "aging rock dude" physique, he looks younger than his 66 years. (As long as it doesn't involve smoking or excessive drug use, I have to find out how all of these old rock dudes stay so thin). I wasn't sure what to expect from Ira, but he was more amiable than I expected--not exactly Chris Murphy-level cordial and demonstrative--but better than I expected. After the first few songs, he told a funny story about seeing an intimate concert with a totally aloof Donovan, which was a roundabout way of Ira apologizing to a fan in front who yelled, "Welcome back to Kalamazoo!" as the band took the stage and that elicited no response from Ira, who I'm sure was laser-focused on the task at hand.
Ira KaplanThere was also some guy in the very front who was waving a copy of the latest Yo La Tengo album (This Stupid World) in Ira's face for the entire first set. As soon as the set ended, Ira said something like, "Okay, I better take care of this before it drive me nuts," and he signed the guy's album.
Now a few words about the two other Yo La Tengo members. Georgia Hubley is the band's drummer, keyboard player, and occasional reluctant (?) vocalist, as well as being Ira's wife. I recently read an article online by the Criterion Collection in which Georgia listed her ten all-time favorite movies and she has extremely esoteric tastes in film. [see link below] She may come across as shy and unassuming on stage and on record, but in reality, I suspect, that is far from the case. She is an underrated drummer and an important component of YLT's sound.
[Georgia Hubley's top 10 films: Georgia Hubley’s Top 10 | Current | The Criterion Collection ].
At age 54, bassist James McNew is the "kid" in the band. He stands stock-still on stage like a burly Bill Wyman. He lays down a good groove and is the band's secret weapon.
YLT performed two sets. The first one was largely calm, quiet, acoustic, and dreamy. The second set was loud, electric, boisterous, and face-melting. Few bands I can think of combine those two dichotomies so seamlessly.
L. and I were near the front for the first set, but since we hadn't eaten much all day, went inside the Bell's building at intermission. (I forgot to mention this was an outdoor concert). We grabbed some food and a few beers, and decided to hang in the back during the second set. It was just as well because I managed to lose one of my earplugs at the merch table when I was pulling out my wallet to buy a t-shirt.
The show concluded with an encore featuring an obscure cover of the equally obscure '60s garage band Half-Life, followed by a cover of the Velvet Underground's "Candy Says" (Ira asked somebody onstage to look up the lyrics for him), and--finally--a lovely rendition of the Kinks' "Ring the Bells," with Georgia singing lead. (YLT purposely chose a song with "bell" in the cover because, of course, they were playing at Bell's).
L. and I tiredly ambled back to our hotel at about 11:00 PM and were completely exhausted from the two days of adventure, quickly falling asleep.
