Alyssa & I just got back from the Sunny Day Real Estate concert. They started their set right on time!!! They didn't make us wait too long!!! If for no other reason, this band was teh awesome!!
Read Alyssa's review
She thought I'd mess with their name like I did with My Bloody Valentine, but the only thing I could think of was "Suni Gay Trill Relate", and that neither makes sense nor describes the event accurately.
I'd never heard really their music before, except when they were wafting from her speakers in the house. So, every song was pretty much new for me. After the show I found out that they started playing in 1994. That explains why all the young kids there were cool with these guys looking older than me. I love it when you can have a bald lead singer, and he's still hip.
About the music:
I liked most of it, even if it there wasn't as much variety between the songs as I would have liked. Within each song, there were wonderful dynamics... but each song, even their ballads followed the same structure.
They were incredibly tight. Like James Brown backup musician tight.
The lead singer reminded me of my late great uncle Larry, with overly broad shoulders, a very slight hunch, and a solid colored T-shirt that hung too far from his neck. So, I kind of expected him to be leaning over egg salad and playing cards with my family at a reunion. But he sang instead.
Their guitarist reminded me of a very happy go lucky guitar playing roommate of mine in Eugene. This one was a bit more spastic. His face held much more contrast on stage than the other players.
The Venue:
The Paramount just put their new sign up, but didn't turn on the lights. I think they're holding out to raise $150,000 before they do. Hey, the old sign used to cost them $25k a year in electric bills. If they wait 6 years before turning it on, it will have paid for itself ;-)
There was a club near the restrooms, astonishingly called "The Paramount Club" We walked in and were stopped. We were told rather snobbily that it was a private club. I was not impressed. It was mostly empty.
The interior was exquisite, of course. I kept looking at the gold leaf on the walls. Textures everywhere! The sound was incredible where we stood. (Center orchestra pit general admission, about 15 people from the front of the stage)
Where we were standing, the place smelled like Diamond Dry, (ground up corn cobs for those not in the know).
I'm guessing that was from all the rain tracked onto the old floor. Or possibly from the guy next to me.
It was really hot and humid in there, and on occasion we'd get a light wafting of cool air from the ceiling. I wish we had that the entire time, instead of every five minutes.
The crowd was mostly younger than us, I'd say just post college age.
They went out of their way to dress down and uglify themselves. All ill-fitting earth colors too warm for the venue, eyebrow rings, thick rimmed glassed. I felt like I took a time machine back to the beginning of the grunge movement. But everyone was very nice.
There was a couple in front of us, and the girl was obviously into the music and her date a lot more than he was into them or her. She was filled with nervous energy, and kept scratching his back to the music. We also noticed that she liked rubbing his butt. To the right of us was a shorter couple. The girl next to me kept trying to crowd me out, and it took until about mid show for me to realize that it was so she could get a better view. Every time I go to a general Admission show, I dream of having everyone line up from short to tall, with the tall people in the back so everyone can see. That's how it'd work if we had a *real* fascist in office!! (So quit complaining folks)
Like everyone else there with an 'eye'Phone, I felt obliged to snag a couple shots of the band. But I didn't. Take any photos. I just happened to find one on the internet when I came home tonight. Of the same show. I took one of the shots into Sketchbook Mobile tonight. Since it doesn't handle horizontal shots well yet, I had a lot of extra canvas to play with. Behold it's glory.
