Thee Oh Sees, Shannon & the Clams, Sonny & the Sunsets, The Mystery Lights - Amnesia 5/16/09

Posted by glen609 on May 16, 2009

Thee Oh Sees, Shannon & the Clams, Sonny & the Sunsets, The Mystery Lights

The baby bird we found in Dolores park was fed and put to bed, I’d had a couple of Finlaggens (a very good buy in Islay single malt Scotch at Trader Joes), there wasn’t anything automatic to do any more with the gf gone, I still had a hangover from Monte Carlo night at City Hall the night before and I’d been hearing about Thee Oh Sees for a couple of weeks now. Anybody that I trusted was giving them the thumbs up and they were playing at Amnesia which is just down the street and an easy stumble home. The hill is a little daunting but it’s good exercise to start the process of burning it off.

I got dropped off in Theo the Geo, after honking at all the guys in the Castro and almost dying blazing down 18th ignoring all local traffic laws - I guess this is legal somewhere in the World - and walked by the place looking for a taco or two. Is that Patty Smith singing Gloria? Sure sounds like her, pretty impressive in fact, but it’s Gloria and I don’t think I can hear those six letters just one more time, plus I have a mean hunger and I need to soak up some of that Scotch, before I add some more.

There are no taquerias on Valencia between 18th and 20th. Take a note. Sounds like a good business plan, because I couldn’t see myself going into the bogus Burger Joint, I don’t care how hungry.

Fuggit. Maybe I just need a beer.

Out of cash, I snuck around the line and went straight to the ATM. Dude, I’m sorry. I go to enough of these shows and support a lot of local music. Some day I’ll be able to write it all off, but in the meantime getting a beer is more important that appeasing the doorman, and my guilt.

The Patty Smith band was still on, sans Patty, and one of the guitar players was taking over at the mic. I think they were the Mystery Lights, a very capable, high energy band of four, I think, all of which looked way too young to drink, or drive a car. They probably took the bus to get here and they were pretty awesome. They have a ways to go in the professionalism department, but they’ll get there and will surely impress. Most of the deficiencies, to be quite honest, come from the sound guys who almost invariably adds too much echo to the vocals. Guys, why add any? These tiny places have enough built in echo as it is.

And it turns out I was seated right next to an old friend at the bar. It’s nice to see old friends especially ones that are still so nice, and lovely and have every right to blow you off if they want because they’re there with their boyfriends. We talked about birds, and bands. Thee Oh Sees were her favorite. I told her about Entrance. Once, I accidentally flicked a cigarette butt at a pigeon right in front of her. Apparently, pigeons are her favorite bird because everyone else hates ‘em. She’s made whole art exhibitions based on pigeons. To her I was just another pigeon hater. I told her about Dolores. Not a pigeon, but a beautiful bird nonetheless. I actually love all birds, tiny dinosaurs, but not everybody knows that.

Ran into another friend, Conner, bass player from an old band of mine. He’s still in lots of different projects and he was talking to the bartender, who I had an eye on. I always have an eye on the bartender. What’s up with that? Is it something like mother’s milk? Ew, that’s kinda gross, sorry. We played in this band right here, The Ferocious Few, who are still together and starting to make some noise, but as a two piece because Francisco couldn’t handle all the noise and not having complete control. Typica Diva. Dammit if the music suffers.

Next up, Sonny and the Sunsets. I didn’t have to keep the toilet paper in my ears for these guys because they were relatively benign. Which is another way of saying that people were visibly bored after about fifteen minutes. The singer was workmanlike, but uninspired. What saved them, almost, were the brilliant guitar and bass tones. Some kind of acoustic blues guitar with a magnetic pickup (thank god, I hate those built in piezos) and the bass was something on the acoustic side of things too. Had a nice twang. Sometimes that’s enough. Add some more impressive vocals and you might have something there.

Shannon, of Shannon and the clams, was sick and she was afraid of puking on her apron. She still had the lungs, though, and the sixties crazy vibe, but again the fucked up echo on the vocals. Sometimes you only need to hear a word once. You don’t need to hear it echoed ten times, no matter how good it is. Add the guitarists echo and you have cacophony. Still, the last two songs were quite brilliant. I wish I had a notepad to jot down the names. Shannon’s got pipes. I’d like to hear her when she’s well.

I don’t have a huge anticipation of greatness when Thee Oh Sees take the stage, but it’s size-able enough and they’ll have to impress only slightly to get on my good side. It starts out fair enough, a bit more simply than I was prepared for, there wasn’t a bass, which I missed at first until the second guitar guy held down a lot of the low end because main guy, John Dwyer (?) was wrangling a highly played, highly timbered 12 string, but then the energy took over, driven in the main by the amazing drummer. Listen to that! It’s the drummer. Has anyone noticed that? It’s always someone. Sometimes the drummer is solid and workmanlike. Sometimes the Bass player just gets it done. Sometimes nobody steps it up. Thee Oh Sees all shine, but it’s the drummer, man, that kicks ‘em into gear. And he makes everyone else better. Dwyer gets into that infectious groove and runs with it. Everyone else runs with it too, including the entire front half of the room who are the biggest mosh scene I’ve ever seen at such an unlikely, almost folksy, event. It’s practically Apalachian, though there will be some dissent about that for sure, and everybody is dancing as if it’s a Black Flag concert, albeit a little more courteous. Good times. Good music. That’s what it’s all about.

I looked around after the short encore for my friends or for any new ones, but they’d all gone. The tall blonde I kept getting pushed into gave me a funny look, down her nose. The bartender ignored me. People were paring off and I was sheepishly alone, but feeling good. Music has the power to heal, is the apt cliche. I was pretty much healed.

I walked by her house just to compare it with last week and to measure the extent of that healing. I hoped she was having a good time wherever she was. I hoped she had at least as good a time as I had tonight. Still, the lights were off, I hoped that she was alone, and fast asleep. God only knows (God being a Pantheistic everything, not to be confused with any other God, thank you very much.)

P.S. There’s a great poem in the current New Yorker about love and everything and Spring and birds. Apt to music just as much as anything, btw. Cheers and good listening. Have a great spring.