Tilly and the Wall/Bright Eyes show:

Let's do this chronologically.

After waiting for a bit (and seeing Mike Mogis while in line, which made me feel all starstruck because he's my musical Tatiana Tarasova [fuckihopeispeltthatright]), I got into the venue. Tilly and the Wall was soundchecking, I think. I spent most of this time hunting down the elusive bathroom (which had no soap), and didn't hear much of it. Went to the pit. Waited.

After a bit, Tilly and the Wall came out again. Saw keyboardist and realised that he was insanely pretty, and just photographed poorly. Suddenly understood what everyone was ranting about, and was very glad to know I'd see him for two sets.

The band sounded exactly as I expected them to, and consequentially I enjoyed them quite a bit. The crowd was enthusiastic and participated with the band, and it was generally Very Good.

They left the stage, and more waiting ensued.

Eventually Bright Eyes came out. Much cheering. Much discussion hoping that he's terribly drunk. I was amused. Some cheering near me when he stumbled into the mic before singing a single song, 'He's drunk! Yes!'

And...the show was actually really good. The music was great. The sound quality was miles above what I'm used to, and the live versions of the songs were a million times more brilliant than the album versions. He played I Will Be Grateful for This Day, I Will Be Grateful for Each Day to Come, which was my #1 wish for the night, that I didn't think I'd get. He played Poison Oak as well, which made me very, very happy, since I'm obsessed with the song. He introduced it by babbling about how the audience needs to be serious because this is the most important song ever to him. Which I thought was endearing, and was happy about, because of how much I love the song. Other highlights of specific songs is my finally having heard Road to Joy. It's nice to see Beethoven fucked with. And again, the different versions of all the songs were fucking incredible.

Very, very good show, despite frequent sound checks. And, well, that other thing.

After nine or so songs (I remade a sort of setlist, though the order's definitely off. I think it has all the songs. So, up to this point: A Spindle, a Darkness, a Fever, and a Necklace; Method Acting; I'm Wide Awake it's Morning; Lover I don't Have to Love; I Will Be Grateful for This Day, I Will Be Grateful for Each Day to Come; Poison Oak; Bowl of Oranges; The City Has Sex; Neely O'Hara; Road to Joy.) The problems started to become frightening during Road to Joy, they had to renegotiate with the sound people to let them finish the song, much less play more. And they hadn't even been on the stage long. I begin to worry, though I don't let that stop me enjoying the song. Especially since I hadn't heard it before.

So, the song ends, the sound is turned off (yes, off), and the band heads off stage. The crowd cheers and jeers and mutters about 'There has to be an encore, they only played six songs...'

We wait.

After a while Mike Mogis comes out. (Comment from earlier in the show: 'Who's that guy in the glasses?' 'Mike Mogis, he does the production stuff, and can play every instrument.' 'You can definitely tell he's in control. He's the best person up there.') He shakes a couple hands near me and says that they won't let them play any more songs, with an apologetic look on his face.

A security guard, quite unsympathetically, confirms that they won't turn the sound back on, because the band apparently 'breached their contract.' (I imagine by coming in late and playing too late, Conor said they'd gotten there 'really late' today.)

We wait, in disbelief.

After a sufficient amount of chanting, Conor comes out. Picks up his guitar. Sits down in a chair. Rests the guitar in his lap, and his head on his guitar. Picks his head up. Puts it back down again.

Then he got up, and walked to the amps. He sat on one, and said to the crowd: 'If you all are quiet enough, you'll be able to hear me.' There was a massive crush around him, so that we'd be able to hear. And at first I couldn't at all, but he did get louder. And I could hear. June on the West Coast. At one point, while Conor was still singing too softly to hear very well, the crowd picked up the tune and sang it with...really remarkable harmony. We stopped after a bit though, apparently collectively deciding it was best to let Conor sing, since he wasn't doing it with any power, and certainly not with the blessing of the venue.

He got louder, though some ass from the back still shouted 'WE CAN'T HEAR YOU' in the middle of the song. Of course fucking not, he had no amplification and it's simply too much space. I could only catch the odd guitar note from where I was, and I was pretty effing close to him. It just seemed incredibly rude to me. There was nothing else he could fucking do, he didn't even have to be sitting on the fucking amp, on the edge of the stage, doing what he did.

(Cough.)

Anyway. It was just a bit of a melancholy ending, to say the least. I went home in a bit of a depression, though my love for the band has gone up a million fold. If the songwriting on the boy's next cd is anything close to as good as what I heard at this show, then he may yet become my favourite.

Woah. That ending is almost uplifting. How'd I do that?

revoless.
12:44 a.m.
August 02, 2003.
Listening to: Bright Eyes.

comments? 1.

A picture and the majesty of touch or Why am I only realising this now?

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