The Dead Part of You

So last night was the big indie pop show at the Somerville Theater. The Books played with Greg Davis.

Honestly, I need to start off with The Books. I had never actually heard their music, just of them. You know, recommended highly by trustworthy people. And they weren't horrible by any means - just kind of - OK. Are they better on record maybe? I was expecting this complete hipster-gasm from the show and all I got was some OK tunes and some OK films and it was all very nice, acoustic guitar and cello. It just wasn't what they had been built up to me to be. The crowd loved it though.

However the real star of the night for me was opener Greg Davis. I can't remember the last time music made me feel almost physically ill.

He started out pretty unassuming, and honestly, I thought it was just going to be some shitty new-age samply shit, what with his sitting on the stage without shoes and fancy percussion instruments. What we wound up getting was a sound sculpture that held right up among artists like Animal Collective, Michael Gira's Body Lovers or even John Cage. And like Third Eye Foundation, you just sit in awe that one person is making all this noise. The transition between the two pieces was the audio equivalent of being on a Scrambler that's been running hot for 15 minutes, and it's finally slowing down, and now you really feel sick.



The merch table was way too crowded, maybe because The Books were selling oven mitts. I wasn't able to get to Greg to compliment him on his set or buy a record. Would I go see The Books again? THE ANSWER IS NO, BUT NOT BECAUSE THEY WERE BAD, BECAUSE IT JUST REALLY WASN'T MY THING.