I've spent the last couple weeks readying myself to deal with the harsh, over-extended winter that adorns life in desolate North Dakota. This includes raiding local thrift stores for sweaters and stocking up on cold medicine. I actually really do love the winter season and have found a sort of passionate, romanticism about being snowed in doors for over half the year. This year I can conceptualize hibernating the duration of the winter in my dorm room (recently decorated with Christmas lights) like the rest of the animal kingdom, but I don't think I have enough body fat to live off of. The weather this October has been relatively nice this year, but its only a matter of time before old man winter makes his tireless entrance and sends old people packing for their winter homes in Arizona and Florida. I, on the other hand, have seen fewer winters and revel in braving the elements in this frozen tundra I call home. This year I wanted something to ceremonially usher in the new winter year. What better way than seeing Low at the Avalon with good friends. I don;t think I;ve ever been to a show with such mellow bands before. A large contingency of Fargo;s artsy community;s young and old sat on the hard wooden floor campfire style, sharing company with Haley Bonar, June Panic, and the infamous Low. Low had just returned to the region after being courted by Radiohead throughout Europe and a gig in New York City to play at the world famous Madison Square Garden. Zak (bass) described breaking a string on his bass and was assisted by one of 18 Radiohead;s stagehands. Interestingly, they only mentioned that they played with a well-known band a far ways away. How modest.
Speaking of the crowd, I was the lonely white trash kid in a sea of snobbish indie scenesters. I have the privilege to eavesdrop over a few conversations that included 20 somethings bragging about how many movies they've produced or solo acoustic albums they've recorded. It was astonishing to witness these uppity-intellectual types attempting to provide themselves with mystical aura by beating the brow about what they considered was good art. I can't conceptualize some of these people taking themselves or their "art" seriously. I wonder if I ever come off as this pretentious to other people. Perhaps after I finish my first 5 films and complete my catalog of self-published albums.
The big shocker of the night was June Panic. His music to me is sweet and sour. The shell is unbearably bitter and hard to digest, but the center is lush and, well, really honest and beautiful. He's such a sweet guy to boot. I had the privilege to meet him one night at the Atomic. I pitched an idea to carpool with him to Wyoming, since he has a sister living in the same proximity as mine, but my half-baked plan didn't carry over with as much enthusiasm as I hoped.
Haley Bonar was sick with a cold, but she has a very beautiful voice that goes fairly well with her country tinged acoustic numbers. Then she broke out the Rhodes keyboard. Sugar plums and fairies. Umm, yeah. Anyhow, I was witness to my friend Julian falling deeper in love with Haley more and more after each song. He now says he has a crush on her. She was pretty hot. Yes, I am shallow.
We went to Babs for a short time, while this complete imbecile was playing an acoustic set. Apparently he plays there every Saturday. He was rude, loud and harsh, sloppy, obnoxious, and offensive. I almost admire his audacity. Everyone in that place wanted to kill him. As my eyes wandered the room, people glared at him as if he would acknowledge their disgust and quit playing. He kept playing. I could see it in people's eyes as if they were communicating with telepathy. This bastard is pissing me off. Don't you agree? Let's tar and feather him! Let's kill him! I didn't stay for the uprising.
Back to the Avalon and Low played an ungodly long set. The hardwood floor did not accommodate my boney ass very well. Once the show was over, I talked the gang into migrating over to Perkins. Lo and behold, the acoustic guy from Babs was in the booth next to us...with a gorgeous, blond piece of work. He was working all the angles and she was swallowing every line. Who is this fucking guy? My new idol.
So perhaps the show didn?t really usher in any winter spirit for me, but I managed to enjoy myself quite well.