1/23/09 @ Monster House, Columbus OH
You’re A Brave Soul Alaska
Ghost Town Trio
I was in charge of running the show and that usually means I am distracted and hard to talk to and anxiety ridden. But who’s paying attention to that type of thing anyway? Me more than anyone I guess. I just worry about everyone and everything going on at the show at the same time. I want everything to be cool. I actually was feeling pretty good though and I managed to meet some new people. I made a giant pot of a spicy lentil, tomato, white bean, onion (which I forgot to cook and just dumped in) soupy stuff. It was a hit and there was enough to share with the people! I like having enough for more than just the bands to eat. Food extends a type of hospitality that sits well with people. It’s like a hearty handshake for the stomach. Food can be community building.
Asinine came down to play and brought a Cleveland-err invasion. They are a punk band and that’s the short of it. Kenny (bassist/vocalist) started the set by demanding “the biggest circle pit Columbus has ever seen… NO that OHIO has ever seen! ! !” Then he tastefully made fun of Tim Armstrong of Rancid and of himself for trying to get a picture with Tim at warped tour two short years ago. They captured that joyous yet fleeting energy that punk rock can slam into the hearts of the young ones. “It’s time to start believing in myself again.” What a simple but important thing to yell.
The Measure (sa) is a New Jersey band. Melodic in a Sticks and Stones (old New Jersey band) kind of way. Female vocals delivered deeply. To me, they sound like a band whose songs are written on acoustic guitar after listening to a mix with Bob Dylan, Discount, and Lifetime on it. The basement was filled up for them and they played well. People had traveled from Cincy and Dayton for the show. I like the art on their records too.
More people kept coming in to the show to my confusion. But then I remembered something important: If you are a band and you are all still in College and you are somewhat attractive- oh, and you are quick with text messages, people will come and see your band. A lot of people. After some punkys scoffed at supposed hipsters and I tried to be funny to obtain donations from people who had never been to a house show and were dressed incredibly well (someone donated a Sam Adams winter brew), everyone got a little more comfortable and the show went on.
You’re A Brave Soul Alaska plays ambient, spacey indie rock. High, delicate vocals fall out with uncertainty over a wandering bass. They had an engulfing sound. They got my seal of approval as nice people. I enjoyed them and am excited to see them again when I can actually see them and when their friends don’t talk through their set while drinking brass monkeys. They even had the nerve to leave the orange juice jug unfinished in the basement.
Ghost Town Trio, also from Cleveland, gave those who stuck around the hip shaking punk and roll their icy joints were waiting for. They are the sons of Bruce Springsteen in a punk band. Andy (guitar/vocals) is my soul brother. I guess that technically makes Bruce my dad too. One day we are going to make out to Same Cooke’s live album.
It was a socially overwhelming night. For the most part, those who came over were friendly. One kid was so drunk, he started putting on Pat’s jacket and leaving. Austin stopped him at the door.
A: “What color is your jacket dude?”
Drunk Kid: “It’s black.”
A: “The coat you have on is blue.”
Drunk Kid: “This isn’t my coat!”
At another point of the night, some of Columbus’ rad ladies were telling this kid why he should not be using slang terms for the vagina as insults. A woman’s body is to be celebrated and no part should be used to insult someone because that is derogatory and sexist. House shows are unique for the actual exchange of ideas that can often occur. If ideas are exchanged fairly and with an open mind, good things can come of it.
People hung out late. Chatting about ideas and dreams. Laughing together. Feeling the prolonged buzz of music. The atmosphere was more party like than usually. I think some felt the buzz of “listening to Green Day.” Steve orchestrated a battle rap in his room that he recorded. Matt Sanders was a rosy cheeked fun drunk saying ridiculous things to his friends delight. I was trying to hang out but I couldn’t get over how many beer cans I had to smash and the state that the house was in. As I neurotically washed dishes, my friends laughter leaked into the kitchen as they piled on top of each other on the couch. I’d rather pile on my friends than pile dishes in the sink. One day I will stop being wierd, I swear it.