Concerts News
Earbender #1 - The Lemonheads
Last night, Yours Truly wandered into the Bowery Ballroom to see The Lemonheads. Evan Dando, lead singer and songwriter, 90's alternative darling and admirer of the free-base, was billed with his band to perform their 29-minute, 1992 pop classic, It's a Shame about Ray.
The Bowery Ballroom is a snug little joint (about a 500 capacity, maybe more?) on Delancey Street. From a wrap-around balcony to bars that can tease the drink out of you on all floors (go to the basement lounge), the Bowery Ballroom also offers a nice view of the stage from every vantage point. When you leave, conveniently enough, the J /M trains of the Bowery Station are located smack dab outside the venue.
Admittedly, I was totally un-together, but perhaps my self-debris was the secret pre-requisite for what Mr. Dando had in mind for the evening's performance.
As I surveyed the crowd it became apparent to me that the people in attendance were, in fact, even older and well-mired in some nostalgic trip. T-shirts emblazoned with the names of such bands as Sonic Youth, Yo La Tengo, Dinosaur Jr., and Ween. This was 1992. Bill Clinton! Chicago Bulls! MTV's The Real World!
After the opening bands left the stage, its was almost 90 minutes before Mr. Dando (dis)graced the stage. The drink in my plastic cup became drinks just as my loose manner became boisterous. And I wasn't alone.
Dando began the show with a laryngitis-like hand gesture to his throat and mumbled into the mic that he wouldn't be able to perform because his voice was shot. He demonstrated this shot voice with a couple riffs. The audience encouraged him to carry on nonetheless. He played solo and picked songs, a verse, then a chorus, and many stops. This went on for some time. Disaster.
Imagining the venomous tweets about this performance (the last place Even Dando should have been was on stage), I also thought about the audience's plain voyeuristic sadness. Yet, yes, when his tight, rhythm section eventually joined him, the anxiety, restlessness, sloppiness he revealed to us up to that point, lifted. Thereafter was a kind of tender performance I had not experienced before in a concert. It was as if we, the audience, needed to see him fail and that "failure" was an integral part of the act, this disintegration called a show, entertainment.
Thank god the evening ended on a comic note. About six chubby men in their forties started colliding during the song Alison's Starting to Happen in what could only be vaguely labeled a mosh pit. Even the bouncers didn't bother breaking it up because the moshers were sucking so much wind.
Set List included:
It's a Shame About Ray
Down about It
Being Around
My Drug Buddy
The Turnpike Down
Big Gay Heart
The Great Big No
Bit Part
Style
Alison's Starting to Happen
Later.
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