I Hesitate to Say that You’re a Liar
When I see bands that I loved back in the 80s and 90s sometimes I feel like I’m walking into a house of mirrors full of aging hipsters, clinging to the remnants of their youth. Am I one of them? While I don’t have any tattoos, sideburns or a job in computers, in a demographic sense, who am I kidding? We’re the same. These are my people … Thankfully, after a silly and pointless debate about China, my friend and I arrived late, saving me from looking directly into the faces of my contemporaries, but I couldn’t help but feel my mortality reflected in the bald heads bobbing throughout the crowd. Rock is about sex and vibrancy and danger and this aged sausage factory felt as daring as an early wake-up call for the farmer’s market. Yes, I’m not particularly enthralled with this notion of getting older. But, in the end, it’s not them, it’s me. I get that, I just don’t like to be reminded of it. At least, not last night.
I realize that I’m projecting my own issues on my generation. Apparently, I am brimming with self-contempt and I can barely stand the idea of getting older. And the fact is that Sebadoh’s performance was irrelevant to my own psycho-drama. While Matador 21 and Pavement’s reunion of last year felt celebratory and like a triumph, last night left me cold, aching for a transcendence that never came, which is perhaps asking too much of Sebadoh, a band I’ve always loved more with my head than with my heart. They are by their nature neurotic and introspective, never quite achieving that blissful guitar-crunching release, of say, Dinosaur Jr. They are not designed to take you out of yourself, but to wallow in your own muck. And that’s what I did last night. Still, it should be noted that the band sounded great. They were crisp and clean, each instrument popping. They’re pros now, masters of their teenage material (III will be twenty in March!), paradoxically evolving as musicians while simultaneously undermining their initial muddy appeal. There used to be something gloriously messy and unfinished about Sebadoh and while they look disheveled in their matching black t-shirts, I couldn’t help but feel like I would have benefited greatly from a bit less clarity and lot more confusion.
lonesomebeehive 