This is the place where I felt...

"This is the place where I felt
like the world's tallest self-supporting tower
at least for a little while anyway"

(Great Lake Swimmers - 'Concrete Heart', 2009)


At about the same time last year, I listened to the Great Lake Swimmers' debut album a lot. It was a time dominated by two completely different states of mind: a deep enthusiasm for my work in a cinema and an equally deep frustration with life in Halle, where I was still living at the time. I was heavily flirting with Leipzig already, going there for concerts quite often and putting a lot of future hopes in the city. It is exactly these two emotions that come up to me again when I listen to the Great Lake Swimmers now. "Moving Pictures Silent Films" is the song I strongly relate to my cinematic obsession. I picture myself alone in the dark, bringing pictures to life and enjoying every minute of it. At the same time, I see myself listening to the album late at night, longing for a new city, new people, a place where I could find all that I missed in Halle, a place where maybe I had just lived for too long...

Yesterday the Great Lake Swimmers came to Leipzig, even better: to the place that happens to be my new cinema (but also a brilliant location for live concerts). So in a way, it all made sense: the music, the place, the atmosphere - it was like pieces of a puzzle coming together. The location was perfect for the sound of the band: a bit more powerful and dynamic in a live context without losing the spheric brilliance the songs have on the records. In fact, I was a bit afraid before the show that exactly this might happen. With a classic folk rock instrumentation (guitar, upright bass, banjo, piano and drums), there often is a certain risk of sounding too much like a traditional rock band when playing live. The very same thing happened to the support band Phosphorescent, who sounded a bit too conventional in a folk-rock-country sense for my taste. And it is certainly not riffs or folk rock clichées that I expect of the Great Lake Swimmers. What I love them for, and what I think is so special about them is their mellow, restrained but still intense sound - a spirit that is hard to preserve at a concert, where most people expect to rock. Luckily, the band did'n fall into that classical live trap. This was especially apparent when directly compared to their support band. Even though the songs sounded more straightforward than on record, this didn't destroy their atmosphere. Those low-key moments, the quiet, intensity, everything I like about this band was still there.

The songs from the new album "Lost Channels" made up the largest part of the set. My highlights: the simple but gorgeous "Still", with an extremely catchy melody and beautiful lyrics that precisely express my own attitude to life, and singer Tony Dekker's solo performance of "Concrete Heart" (a song he was commissioned to write for a project about Toronto architecture, as he told us), a gorgeous quiet song that confirmed what I've always thought: cities can be highly inspiring. Perhaps not surprisingly in this location, my personal wish was also fulfilled. When I listened to the band playing "Moving Pictures Silent Films" live in 'my' cinema, it was definitely a special, beautifully intense moment for me.

Also worth mentioning is Sharon van Etten, a very interesting Brooklyn songwriter who played as the first support act of the evening. I hadn't heard of her before, but her impressive live set (just her alone on electric guitar and singing) awakened my curiosity. I'm looking forward to hearing more of her in the future. All in all, I'm glad that last night I didn't only see a band that has meant a lot to me for a while, but discovered an excellent new musician as well.

P.S.: Thanks to Woodblock for the photo.

The news is they're coming...

(heute mal auf Deutsch: ein kleines bißchen lokal orientierter Veranstaltungs-Spam)

Mehrere hochkarätige Konzerte bahnen sich an in Leipzig, drum werde ich meine Vorfreude an dieser Stelle einfach mal bündeln. Heute abend geht's los mit Mrs. Pepsteins Jubiläumsgala in der Skala. Mrs. P. feiert 10jähriges Jubiläum ihrer Radiosendung und hat dafür ein äußerst feines Lineup zusammengestellt: Kevin Blechdom und Britta werden live spielen, anschließend darf bei den DJ-Sets von Frau Müller und Mrs. P. höchstpersönlich getanzt werden.

Nächste Woche ist mal wieder das Centraltheater dran, wo am Mittwoch Coco Rosie spielen. Leider schon ausverkauft und ich muss selbst noch um Karten zittern, gebe aber die Hoffnung (noch) nicht auf... Keine Sorgen muss ich mir dagegen bei den Great Lake Swimmers machen, denn die kommen am 11. Mai in mein erweitertes Wohnzimmer. Quasi. Ein Traum! Nicht nur, weil der Sound der Band so wunderbar zur Atmosphäre des schönen alten Saals im UT passt, sondern auch, weil die Great Lake Swimmers mit "Moving Pictures Silent Films" auch meinen ganz persönlichen Lieblingssong mit Kinobezug geschrieben haben (durch den ich die Band überhaupt erst so richtig entdeckte). Ohne diesen Song werde ich sie wohl auch nicht von der Bühne lassen, denn wo könnte der besser passen als in einem alten Kino?

Im UT geht es dann auch gleich weiter mit den Legends. Die Schweden werden am 15. Mai im Rahmen der (Pop Up-Messe Leipzig beehren, die ohnehin ein Pflichttermin hiesiger Musikfreaks ist. Neugierig bin ich auch auf die Podiumsdiskussion zum Centraltheater als Popkonzertveranstalter (worüber in der "Szene" gerade heftig diskutiert wird) und natürlich die Messe selbst. Diesmal zwar nicht mehr im Werk II (was eigentlich bestens geeignet war als Location für die Messe), sondern im Volkspalast, ein wenig ab vom Schuss. Aber ich will ja nicht allzu stadtteilfaul werden und verkneife mir die Skepsis, bis ich die neue Location mit eigenen Augen gesehen habe...

Und obwohl man sich bei so einem Programm fast nicht traut, die Stadt zu verlassen, geht auch noch einiges jenseits von Leipzig: nächstes Wochenende gucke ich mir die Sonic-Youth-Ausstellung in Düsseldorf an und am 22. Mai kommen die Junior Boys nach Berlin. Letztere bringen demnächst auch ihr neues Album raus, ebenso Bat for Lashes. Nochmal Vorfreude!

Meant for the Stage

The Decemberists live in Berlin, 30/09/07



(In a desperate attempt to write a review with some kind of wannabe-professional approach, I gave up halfway though because I noticed that it was impossible for me to write about the Decemberists in this neutral, analytical style. I'd seen them twice before, each concert ending in an outburst of enthusiasm and addiction to listen to each of their albums on end. I'm too big a fan of their music to write about their concert as if I was a music journalist. So here comes my second attempt - impressions from the perspective of a dedicated fan.)

The support act, Canadian 3-piece Land of Talk, opened the set with great charm and lovely tunes. As with Two Gallants on their 2005 tour, the Decemberists proved to have a good taste in choosing their support acts. When the Decemberists appeared on the stage, the lights revealed a beautiful illustration by Carson Ellis: a little Japanese village with a crane flying away – actually, a picture from the band's recent LP „The Crane Wife", and a very original visual background for the songs, most of them from this album. The band opened the set with the title song „The Crane Wife 1&2", a song based on a Japanese folk tale and a shining example of Colin Meloy's truly poetic songwriting style.



Without any additional musicians this time, the band still easily managed to transfer the complexity of the songs to a live scene – no wonder with several multi-instrumentalists in the group, especially Chris Funk, who seemed to be able to play every instrument he could get his hands on: guitars, the violin, the banjo, and one bizarre instrument I'd not seen before (this must be a hurdy-gurdy, I guess?). Jenny Conlee on keyboards and accordion - the instrument that makes up a considerable part of the band's unique sound – also had an opportunity to show her singing skills, in „Yankee Bayonet" and the „Mariner's Revenge Song", where she sang the part of the suffering widow with such a melancholic passion that one could think she'd really lived through the story herself. Drummer John Moen also turned out to be a highly gifted singer whose background singing added to the gorgeous melodies, and bassist Nate Query played both bass guitar and upright bass as if it was the easiest, most natural thing in the world. And of course, singer and guitarist Colin Meloy sounded as gorgeous live as he does on the records – he could probably sing to me about anything, and I'd listen patiently, indulging in his melodies and storytelling. Even after having heard the songs very often, they still strike a chord within me, move me – especially when played live. „Eli the Barrow-Boy", for example, one of the most beautiful and sad songs I've heard. Or „O Valencia" from the recent album – at the concert, the song provoked two very strong and very contradictory emotions in me: a deep sadness evoked by the tragic story, and at the same time an incredible euphoria about the music and the joy of being there. It was one of these moments – realising why music means so much to me. And just like the other Decemberists concerts before, this one showed that - apart from their musical and lyrical genius - all the individual band members are unique personalities with a charismatic stage presence and the skill to relate to their audience. So the last song of the regular set - „I Was Meant fot the Stage" - turned out to be more than true once again.


After the last song ended in a massive feedback of noise, the Berlin crowd was still demanding for more – understandably so. The band returned to play two more songs: „Bandit Queen" with Colin alone on acoustic guitar, and finally a Decemberists classic, „The Mariner's Revenge Song". Following a little lecture about marine biology in general and whales in particular, we learned how to scream when swallowed by a whale, in order to provide this special effect at the crucial point in the song, when exactly this happened to our vengeful protagonist. Again I enjoyed the absurd brilliance of the story („Don't know how I survived, the crew all was chewed alive, I must have slipped between his teeth. But oh what providence, what divine intelligence, that you should survive as well as me...") and the accordion sound evoking a longing to be at some seaside place. A 'grande finale' to a marvellous concert that filled me with enough enthusiasm and inspiration to last for weeks. I still have these beautiful tunes in my head and I'm already looking forward to the next time the Decemberists return to cloudy Berlin.