This ran on my old blog in July 2010.
“Friday, July 31: A triple bill of Coyo Poyo, Rest Stop Coffee and Bruce Ragg and the Leaky Carports at North Star Bar…”
I do not patronize live music, but I am grateful for its existence.
“… HP Sauce with Inverse, Reverse and Perverse at the Keswick Theatre …”
Especially when one of my local college stations airs its concert calendar, which happens every day when I’m driving home from work.
“… Underage Delta Queen throws a CD release party at the Garfield Hotel …”
Part of what I love is the repetition.
Recitations that repeat daily, yet differ slightly, have a hypnotic effect.
That’s proven by the widespread public love that the British public shows the BBC’s daily Shipping Forecast, which has an audience of faithful listeners with no connection whatsoever to the maritime trade.
“… Gents’ Bog and the Assprints at the Trocadero …”
Another part of it is the music. This particular station uses a catchy instrumental, somewhere between funk and skronk, as the backdrop for its concert listings; I’ve always wondered what it is.
“… the Vervorelles and Expo ’67 at the Broadway Grille & Pub…”
But I think I enjoy it most because I like the thought of all these bands out there plugging away every night.
Not for the fame or the money — one imagines that most of them are resigned to never getting past the club level.
But just for the pleasure of going out and making their sound to other human beings … carving out something creative and distinctive.
“… Mookie’s Lunchbox with Six String Dharma at the Zoellner Arts Center …”
The knowledge that humans have been pounding on electric guitars and drum kits for 60 years, and there’s precious little truly new under the sun, doesn’t bother these folks.
Maybe tonight they’ll find some musical combination no one else has discovered.
It’s like the lottery: You don’t win if you don’t play.
“… a special under-21 show with Bad Ballet and All Malt Krew at Wildflower Cafe …”
There’s also something cool about each week’s lineup of bands because you know a bunch of ’em — especially those playing the smaller local venues — won’t be around in six months.
Listening to each week’s countdown is like going to the public market to see what’s in season.
The things you find in May probably won’t be there in November, and vice versa … so go forth and reap the harvest now.
” … Tyrone Sacco Superstar and We Won Once play Johnny Brenda’s …”
Or maybe I’m just insanely jealous deep inside that these people go out and play rock star and I don’t.
That’s possible, I suppose.
At any rate, I love my local concert listings. They’re a badge of independent radio and a beacon of do-it-yourselfness.
Perhaps, since I am neither truly independent or DIY, they serve as a passport of sorts into that world, for a brief golden lull in the existence of a rapidly aging salaryman.