Last week Rob and I went to see a whole bunch of bands at Harper's Ferry in Allston. Greg Davis was loud and ambient and hated by everyone except me. Megafun was pretty ignorable - aren't you glad I didn't say "Mega-ignorable". Bob Log III was freaking awesome, as one would expect.
I had seen him in his previous incarnation Doo Rag like ten years ago. They were fucking nuts. Bob Log the Third's big song is "Boob Scotch", which involves audience participation of ladies stirring his scotch with their boobs. Bob Log the Third's music is kind of loud and painful, since much like Doo Rag, a lot of screaming and banging is involved.
Akron/Family were maybe 50% good. You know what? They started off so beautiful. Backing them onstage were Greg Davis and Megafun. In the live setting it completely made sense as to why Michael Gira works with them so often - Swans-y industrial noise contrasted with a backwoods barefoot Appalachia feel. And then, a drum circle started, it got completely prog-rock, Rob and I got hives and left.
Also, I had been sent the hipster Olympics video and thought it was cute and all, but if you find yourself in Allston on Friday night THAT SHIT IS REAL.
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.