saw The Weakerthans last friday at a venue that tried really hard to scream punk rock but ended up with a sore throat and a cheap bar instead. It was my fifth time seeing them, and so the venues have become one of the major distinguishing factors, time prior to this, it was on a boat (no shit, on a boat in the new york harbor) and the first time i saw them it was at Maxwell’s, my favorite venue and one of my favorite places in the whole world. The Mad Hatter has windows behind the stage and i kept thinking the blinking light of the “don’t walk” sign was the tow truck comming SPECIFICALLY to tow my car, unfortunately parked in the Lee’s Fried Chicken next door. All 3 of the acts (Christine Fellows, A A Bondy, and The Weakerthans) made cracks about drinking bourbon (on occasion of the show being in Kentucky). This post, among other things, is about A A Bondy. In theory, i should hate A A bondy, because if there is one thing the world doesn’t need, it’s a world weary old timey country singer songwriter. I should dismiss him like i have Bon Iver or Chuck Prophet and be done with it, but for some reason this one sneaks it’s way in. In all honesty, I’m going to ambigously pin this one on his “delivery” because the music sure isn’t anything new, and on my favorite of these two songs (“American Hearts”), the lyrics aren’t anything special (more or less, an ellaboration of the “who would Jesus bomb” bumpersticker). But i keep going back to these songs, warm like the air blown out of the back of an overheating computer, and lonely like someone boiling water two rooms over. The way he almost whispers the chorus of American Hearts Bondy just signed to Epitaph affiliate Fat Possum, and i’m certainly hoping his new album cotains such engaging songs.
I mean, i think in fifth grade Adam Murphy somehow got me to pretend that i was really into marilyn mason, but i wasn’t, not really. i think the only difference in between that shock rocker and Houston, Texas based band The pAper chAse (their stupid capitalization, not mine) is in the smirk, the smarts, and the nuances of the latter. It’s the difference between a slasher flick and a the kind of horror movie that delays even it’s most tame suspense scenes, the kind that almost makes you gnaw your fingernails off out of dread. They’re touring, it seems, all the time, but honestly, i’m a bit too scared to go see ’em live. the key word here is “impending”