So I had the odd experience of having tickets to see two of my favorite (but slightly over-ripe) songwriters on back to back evenings this weekend, an experience made all the more unusual by the fact that I don't often go to concerts. This can be partially blamed on the fact that I'm trying to extend my remaining time on earth with hearing (oh why didn't I wear earplugs when I played all those Minor Threat covers in highschool) and partially blamed on the fact that I just don't seem to be able to have a good time all that often when I go out. That's not entirely true, I enjoyed the Camera Obscura show I saw in Spring...and I enjoyed some Swedish indie band I saw in the basement of Cakeshop one night. Anyway I digress...
Bob Dylan at the open air Jones Beach theatre on my home sandbar of Long Island. I had not seen a show there since New Order with P.I.L. and The Sugarcubes...early on in Highschool...which still makes me feel ancient to think about. I remember that I spent half the New Order set consoling some mopey girl whose name escapes me in the back of the theatre. And I don't mean 'consoling' in some cheeky lad-y way. I mean literally listening to hear moan and cry whilst missing 'Love Vigilanties.'
I do remember when I got back to my seat, it had been stolen by some bearded degenerate...who told me to fuck off. So I did. This was in my early teens of brooch wearing, Smiths listening sheepishness. Had this been in my early twenties of misguided Twiggy collages and skinhead-ism...I would have of course told him to fuck off himself...and then probably been tied into a sailors knot in 20 seconds flat. I was the only skinhead/suedehead in lower Lake Ronkonkama who only used his stanely knife for the aforementioned Twiggy collages. I do remember leaning against the back wall of the theatre and hearing N.O. play "1963" while it drizzled and feeling cooler and sadder than fuck. I digress again....
Friday Night: This was my second time seeing Dylan this year...and both were strangely sad, shadowy versions of the songs and singer who taught me so much in some not so obvious ways. His voice seems to have been ravaged by age and cigarettes, and its sort of now a monotone growl which consumes the songs alive. Still admist the disinterested crowd, getting high and texting each other, there were some moments which became strangely as beautiful as the 60s, albeit in a completely new context. His world-weary nostalgia in 'Pictures of Johanna' was like seeing something flickering under 45 years worth of smoke and darkness. His band played a lovely twinkling arrangement, and a strange yellow moon lurked over the inlet. It made me believe that something young remains in everyone, just as something old is born in us all. I kept looking and listening for moments like that all throughout the slightly repetively bluesy set, feeling a bit like a prospecter sifting through mud for bits of gold. It was a pretty bad concert, that I wouldn't have missed for the world. F.Y.I., Dylan's "Modern Times" record from this year is better than pretty much any record a 20 or 30 something put out. Though I would think that it helps if one also likes David Lynch...
Saturday Night: I was off to see Morrissey with my best friend, a younger lass whose been reading Mark Simpson's "Saint Morrissey," to try to understand why me, my brother and most of my dearest friends have trouble getting through an evening without a Smiths/Morrissey reference. It's a disease...I warn her...and she should steer clear. I think its too late...she's humming 'Now My Heart is Full" in the kitchen when I awake...she's one of us now....
We get to Madison Square Garden, and we see a bunch of Salford lads sadly clutching xeroxes, and we knew it wasn't good. "Tonights Morrissey concert is cancelled!" bellowed the administrator of disappointment, "The artist is ill. It hopefully will be be rescheduled soon."
I chuckled to myself that somehow Dylan at 67 years of age manages to perform, and even do something resembling a jig at one point. Oh well, Moz looked unwell the eve before on Letterman, and if I was playing my biggest solo show in America since his first one...some 15 years ago...I'd probably want to be at my best too.
So we walked 50 blocks to the Sunshine Theatre on the Lower East Side and saw a film called "Once," which I did not expect to like, but really did. A fact that I hope is unrelated to the fact that I paid a small fortune to see an aging folksinger play two mediocre shows over the course of 6 months....oh well...I'll give myself the benefit of the doubt.
Next Secret History show Tues July 17th at The Annex in NYC
Here are some fan video clips from our last show...
It's Not The End of World, Jonah
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CtBKh_mEyik
Our Lady of Stalingrad
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Bvhsuiu2mU4
How I saved My Life
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5rL1vEOeTbY
More soon...much love...mickey grace....
