live music, the need to be heard, etc
or: Concert Diary 1
Art is simply a conveyance, to oversimplify.
That's not to belittle creation, or say that what I'm doing is art in any way (is it?), just that I require some pretty hefty convincing to motivate myself to write. Often it feels like I have too little to say, or in the immortal words of Steven Page: "It's all been done."
That being said, I empathize with the artist. I too share that unrelenting desire to express myself, and this is how I do it. I love to translate my abstract feelings, desires, and disgust into written language and to take on the insurmountable challenge of being understood every day comes as easy to me as its most primordial medium: the exhalation. I liken my writing to ejecta however, so here I will bear my mind and soul until I feel spent.
So I went to a few concerts over this weekend, the most fun I've had in some time doing them, too. Going by myself has always felt like a pilgrimage, solitude a cross I bear in silence for my awful taste so the whole thing becomes a ritual: the perfect playlist for the drive over, people watching on the street, it goes on.
The venue was Third Man Records in Detroit. I've never had the fortune of going to any of Jack White's many boons to the vinyl record, so when I heard that one of my favorite bands Six Organs of Admittance was going to play there I jumped at the chance. Unfortunately I had a show in Chicago the next night. That did not deter me, I went out there anyway. I arrived, had dinner at a stellar restaurant where I watched the comings and goings of the popular place by myself: a group of traveling students vacationing, a few couples, and the chemistry of the staff. I enjoy watching the world turn in ways like this.
Third Man Records in Detroit is such an easy place to navigate. I had no trouble getting there via the interstate freeway, finding convenient street parking near by, and walking the area of the city the venue was in is easy and pleasurable. Graffiti abounded and there was a bit of blight, so the metropolitan was in microcosm, and as a country boy at heart I was intoxicated by the kaleidoscopic culture that was held there. I stood by a busy street and watched the cars for a minute like blood vessels, taking in myself as a foreign body and losing time on the useless, poetic thought.
Showtime approached, so as the sun began to set I wandered to the venue which of course was gorgeous. Third Man is a storefront for the record label, a pressing plant that offers tours, and a venue all in one and its aesthetic is appealing, but the store had been closed for an hour, so I stood around. I was flagged by three people sitting at a patio table that stayed out around the clock. Third Man shared the block with a chocolate shop and it had outside business, so the vibes were warm and friendly to begin with which inclined me to join them. Concerts I attend normally attract an insular breed so I was delightfully surprised to be incorporated into the conversation. Two Canadians who venture to Detroit regularly for concerts regaled me of their experiences. I allowed the conversation to be one-sided as I learned that they were here because they already had the free time due to another tour being cancelled and decided to see this one blind. As a staunch lover of Six Organs myself, I explained my expectations and briefed them on my love of the artist. Eventually, Ben Chasny—Six Organs himself—beckoned the fourth member of our group in and we were all surprised ot find that he was a close associate of the man we came to see. We gossiped briefly, but before we knew it, it was time to go in.
I love Third Man. I can say that now after seeing the store. Two clerks with one manning the bar were available for purchases and of course I indulged, picking up a Yusef Lateef record pressed by the label in that very store and a shirt before wandering into the venue. The Blue Room was bathed in blue light per its namesake, and in the rear were various seatings: shelves to rest ass on, a couple bulbous 60's inspired chairs, and a couch. The couple I was with settled in and I wandered into the rear where the pressing plant was. Jack White has been likened to Willy Wonka and I've never been able to see that more than when I gazed beyond the viewing glass to the pressing plant's alien machinery and strange yellow and white light. Jack White's stark command of color for his projects is something that attracts me to his work in all aspects. To risk sounding like a travel critic, even the bathrooms were pretty. I planted rear and small talked with the people I had came in with who had of course been to Third Man a few times before while we waited.
Solo axeman Tyler Hicks opened, a perfectly appropriate solo electric set of angular, meditative noodles. His abstract way of playing had me yearning for future shows Six Organs had billed alongside Tashi Dorji this coming November.
The crowd was surprisingly quiet for the set, though the occasional murmurs of conversation bled through in an almost ambient occlusion as well as accessory to his playing that reminded me frustrating of You Ishihara's field recordings playing over his incredible magnum opus Formula. Tyler Hicks is as memorable a player as my recollections of Tashi Dorji and Papa M before him, sitting comfortably between them on a spectrum of dissonance. Mostly finger picked solo electric with minimal distortion, his abstractions were metropolitan in nature and featured a dynamic range that reached near inaudibility between sharp but ephemeral wails. It's a shame that all I could find were clips filmed in the audiences of his shows, his touring of almost a Bedouin nature in Midwest hotspots.
Ben Chasny took the stage by himself with his acoustic guitar not long after Tyler stepped off to enthusiastic applause. His banter was humorous, riffing on the nature of playing by himself: its conveniences and challenges, while weaving between songs and rarely stopping. He joked about his mistakes but I hardly noticed them. Among the setlist, I was surprised to find him playing so much from one of the albums I am least enthusiastic about, Shelter from the Ash, but I was transfixed by his playing nevertheless to the point that I went up front in the sparsely populated venue, sat down, and largely zoned out. Ben's setlist was a tour-de-force and a tour of his discography from his second album Dust and Chimes up through his latest, Time is Glass. It took this show to understand the throughline of themes, but the constant was his masterful playing. To hear his early four track work of foggy bedroom freak folk in such clarity was so moving to me. I cannot understate his value to me as a musician and lyricist.
Ben Chasny has multiple breathtaking folk albums under his belt as well as his tenure with noise rockers Rangda, Comets on Fire, and his collaborations with the likes of Current 93, but my favorite album is an oddity recently in his discography, put out in an odd time: 2020's Companion Rises. By all accounts, a noise rock album of sorts; Companion Rises does not appear in the setlist. All the better, the emphasis was on the composition of his solo guitar work and that was divine. The highlight was the inclusion of an introduction from another favorite, Actaeon's Fall (Against The Hounds) from the absolutely seminal nocturnal emission Luminous Night. It's a testament to his ability that the normally heavy electric riff of the intro still translated its depth and power into a single acoustic guitar by a man on a chair in Cass Corridor in Detroit. It was at this point that I looked behind and found that many people had joined me in sitting. It might be foolish, but I felt a communion however small that night with other fans of the music, I wish I had been more bold and bothered some of them after the show, especially after seeing how quickly many of them fled the venue.
I stuck around. I spoke briefly with Chasny. I regaled him as to how long I had been enjoying his music, and that his recent album was my favorite. I even got the record signed by him, and snapped a photo with the man. He was delightfully personal and surprisingly down to earth. I have spoken to multiple musicians I've been enamored with and none of them were as easy to speak to as Ben. I'd have bothered him for hours, but there was a line. I eventually bought a copy of Companion Rises in addition, and had him sign it for an absent friend who very much wanted to come but did not get the chance. I am remiss that Tyler Hicks didn't have anything for sale to my knowledge, or I'd certainly have supported him as well. I had been crestfallen to find that the people I had bonded with had disappeared, so I stole off into the evening and drove the long trek home, trying to piece together the setlist.
He tells me that the recording may soon be available on his Patreon, but the best way to support him is through his Bandcamp.
He also runs a little record label called Hermit Hut.
