Violent Femmes and Echo & the Bunnymen at Meadow Brook Amphitheater
When I was a freshman at MSU, there were a couple of seniors who lived together in a room a few doors down from me at Shaw Hall. Now, there were plenty of upperclassmen on my dorm floor, but Ken and Steve were the self-appointed corrupters of the freshmen and relished the role.
One particular evening, I was in their room drinking their booze. (I can't remember what circumstances brought me to their den of iniquity that night). Also in the room was a girl about my age whom I did not know, and I was unsure as to why she was there or where she was from, but the two of us were in this dark dorm room drinking and listening to Ken and Steve's music. (It must be said that in 1980s college life, it was not uncommon to come across people that seemed to wander into the picture like extras on a movie set, only to disappear as soon as they had arrived, often never to be seen again).
At some point, Violent Femmes' self-titled debut album was the music of choice. The girl's face immediately lit up. She got excited in that uninhibited way one does after they've encountered something they really love--after consuming a few too many alcoholic drinks. She had that entire album memorized and sang it front-to-back. She felt every one of those words to the marrow of her bones, to the depth of her soul. I will never forget how amazed I was at how moved she was by that music.
As much as people talk about R.E.M.'s Murmur, the Replacements' Let It Be, the Smiths' The Queen Is Dead,or U2's The Joshua Tree as the '80s college rock touchstones--and a great case can be made for any one of those and others I'm surely forgetting--Violent Femmes' debut album just might be the most beloved "college rock" album of that decade. There is just something about the suburban teen angst and frustration of those songs that appeals to a broad swath of Generation Xers.
I got a feel for that album's impact last night when I went to see Violent Femmes and Echo & the Bunnymen at Meadow Brook Amphitheater in Rochester Hills. There were people at this show who were all at least a little north or south of my age of 49. Many of them, primarily women from my observation, who had memorized every single lyric from ever single Femmes song--just like that girl in Shaw Hall back in 1986. (For all I know, she was in the crowd at Meadow Brook). The Femmes, in turn, delivered a lively and appreciative set. They genuinely appeared to be having a blast on stage, and almost every song was met with explosive cheering, singing, and dancing from the middle-aged fans. These were folks who, for one night, forgot about mortgages, kids, politics, aging, etc. and briefly returned to their teen years.
Echo & the Bunnymen were the co-headliners, and frankly I was more excited to see them than Violent Femmes (who I like but don't love). It was a bit more difficult to tell if Ian McCulloch and company were enjoying themselves. McCulloch has the outward appearance of someone who has resigned himself to this being what he has to do to pay the bills. Though he bantered a bit with the crowd in his Scouse mumble, he was difficult for these Midwestern ears to understand. in any case, his singing voice sounds strong and the band, consisting of his longtime partner Will Sergeant and assorted hired guns, were tight and powerful.
Ian McCulloch is, as I wrote on Facebook, "the original Liam Gallagher." He casually sauntered back and forth between the mic stand and the drum riser--he had a lit cigarette by the drums that he took puffs from, plumes of backlit ciggie smoke billowing over his head.
I had the impression that the majority of the crowd was more enthused by Violent Femmes, but then again Echo & the Bunnymen's psychedelia-tinged, dark, impressionistic, sometimes gothy songs aren't exactly singalongs.
Overall, I enjoyed finally seeing these two bands from my misspent youth. Not quite in their heyday, but better late than never.
One particular evening, I was in their room drinking their booze. (I can't remember what circumstances brought me to their den of iniquity that night). Also in the room was a girl about my age whom I did not know, and I was unsure as to why she was there or where she was from, but the two of us were in this dark dorm room drinking and listening to Ken and Steve's music. (It must be said that in 1980s college life, it was not uncommon to come across people that seemed to wander into the picture like extras on a movie set, only to disappear as soon as they had arrived, often never to be seen again).
At some point, Violent Femmes' self-titled debut album was the music of choice. The girl's face immediately lit up. She got excited in that uninhibited way one does after they've encountered something they really love--after consuming a few too many alcoholic drinks. She had that entire album memorized and sang it front-to-back. She felt every one of those words to the marrow of her bones, to the depth of her soul. I will never forget how amazed I was at how moved she was by that music.
As much as people talk about R.E.M.'s Murmur, the Replacements' Let It Be, the Smiths' The Queen Is Dead,or U2's The Joshua Tree as the '80s college rock touchstones--and a great case can be made for any one of those and others I'm surely forgetting--Violent Femmes' debut album just might be the most beloved "college rock" album of that decade. There is just something about the suburban teen angst and frustration of those songs that appeals to a broad swath of Generation Xers.
I got a feel for that album's impact last night when I went to see Violent Femmes and Echo & the Bunnymen at Meadow Brook Amphitheater in Rochester Hills. There were people at this show who were all at least a little north or south of my age of 49. Many of them, primarily women from my observation, who had memorized every single lyric from ever single Femmes song--just like that girl in Shaw Hall back in 1986. (For all I know, she was in the crowd at Meadow Brook). The Femmes, in turn, delivered a lively and appreciative set. They genuinely appeared to be having a blast on stage, and almost every song was met with explosive cheering, singing, and dancing from the middle-aged fans. These were folks who, for one night, forgot about mortgages, kids, politics, aging, etc. and briefly returned to their teen years.
Echo & the Bunnymen were the co-headliners, and frankly I was more excited to see them than Violent Femmes (who I like but don't love). It was a bit more difficult to tell if Ian McCulloch and company were enjoying themselves. McCulloch has the outward appearance of someone who has resigned himself to this being what he has to do to pay the bills. Though he bantered a bit with the crowd in his Scouse mumble, he was difficult for these Midwestern ears to understand. in any case, his singing voice sounds strong and the band, consisting of his longtime partner Will Sergeant and assorted hired guns, were tight and powerful.
Ian McCulloch is, as I wrote on Facebook, "the original Liam Gallagher." He casually sauntered back and forth between the mic stand and the drum riser--he had a lit cigarette by the drums that he took puffs from, plumes of backlit ciggie smoke billowing over his head.
I had the impression that the majority of the crowd was more enthused by Violent Femmes, but then again Echo & the Bunnymen's psychedelia-tinged, dark, impressionistic, sometimes gothy songs aren't exactly singalongs.
Overall, I enjoyed finally seeing these two bands from my misspent youth. Not quite in their heyday, but better late than never.
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