(Love notes are harder to write than blog rants)
Nobody here blogged about the Dark Dark Dark show last week. I could pull something out of my grab-bag of missed deadline excuses (you know how hard it is to find the internet these days…?) but there was no good reason to neglect proper reverence for Nona Marie Invie and her sweet band of gypsies. A whole week has passed since I walked away from Stonehenge, and I still have that naggy feeling I get when I actually have something nice to say.
While curled up against the band’s ancient, monolithic amp at the front of the crowd, I developed two valuable quandaries.
First: you can pay more than Oregon’s generous min. wage at a fancy-pants Portland venue to hear music better suited for a dive bar with a 3-dollar cover (Dear Builders and the Butchers: I am bitter). The heeled patrons crowding your view will add to your irritability. Or you can be a stingy, wallet-forgetting college student and get all soppy and mesmerized for free. Your proximity to the artist, and your hands on the rug, will remind you of those lovely, pre-jaded days when you discovered Simon and Garfunkel while sitting in front of the speakers on your parent’s living room floor– but, this time, the music is live and your friends have whiskey!
Second: If you always love to folk, you will always be forced to endure the standing vs. sitting debate at seatless venues. I’ll never forget Joanna Newsom’s meek attempt to dissipate concert rage over this very topic during her ‘06-’07 tour. It might have been the first time a harp inspired riotous behavior. Invie gave a similarly timid reminder that her music wasn’t for dancers, and I was happy with my decision to sit. Her melancholy accordion and thoughtful lyrics expressed nostalgia that made my limbs useless. I’m never the wallflower with pocketed hands; I love to bust a move–but last Wednesday I was totally puddled. The isolated soul gyrating in the back of the crowd seemed rather out of place, especially when he waved his arms around and demanded that people join him (incidentally, I saw this same, enthusiastic fellow at a beer-hookah sort of party the next night, and he was still out of place, this time with a rogue bottle of raw goat-milk.)
Dark Dark Dark: You made the best of a rainy night. I’m sorry I forgot my wallet.
Blogosphere: Dark Dark Dark is in Salt Lake City right now. You probably missed them…
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