Sinister: The embittered cow rides again

[Suzanne Schroeder]

How many weeks has it been?

It's been over a week since I returned from Boston.  I came home and saw
the pile of digests in my in box and did what any sane person would do:  I
deleted them.  But, of course, not without seeing that Isobel had fallen
ill and the backlash resulting.  Then, I went into a coma again, and came
out of it by enjoying life a bit, then getting bored all over again.  It
depends on my mood, and as I sit here reflecting on my somewhat
disappointing halloween (all I got was blisters on my feet from the shoes
and a headache from the wig) balanced with the fun of playing an acoustic
set decked out as Sally Jesse Raphael, I thought maybe I could actually say
a few nice words about something.

Boston was a very strange experience from the minute I hit the city limits.
 For the days before, I was being spoiled by tiny towns in the New England
countryside.  People had all day to get somewhere because it was just down
the road.  Your life isn't eaten up sitting in a car.  That's why I was
shocked to find that the Bostonians drive like bats out of hell.  The roads
were so poorly planned probably stretching back to the days when everyone
had a horse and had plenty of time to decide if they were in the right lane
or not, that I freaked and got turned around.  I looped around and found
the University, but ah, the parking.......

To cut it short, I finally did make it to the show.  I stood in line and
became aware I was surrounded by true diehards.  Just the snippets of
conversations told me right away that people around there followed them as
well as I did.  I thought this should make for a very lively show.  I
walked in and was left with the seats in the back or balcony.  I almost
went for the balcony remembering the last show I had gone to with such
seating and how I kicked myself for letting Ticketmaster pick out the
"best" seat, but they wouldn't let me cut across and I didn't feel like
stepping over people.  I took the chance to turn lemons into lemonade since
my real camera had died that morning and I had to make due with a tiny
disposable camera, so I thought I could sneak it in.  I didn't know if they
would search, but I look like an innocent.....just ask the cop who pulled
me over outside Logan airport for running the toll booths, but I
digress.....

Containe took the stage.  That's about all you can say.  I don't remember
much of what they did, and I think it ended up boring the audience.  The
audience was paying attention at the beginning, but other conversations
slowly started to filter in.  I can't even remember what the band sounded
like at this point.  Technically, yes, it worked, I think, but still.....

We were waiting for the real band.  With the shortest turn around in
history, Belle and Sebastian took the stage to a surprisingly mute
audience.  The only people who really stood were the ones who couldn't get
a good look from where they were standing.  This reaction was totally
peculiar considering just a few minutes before, people were proudly showing
off their new t-shirts to their friends.  Is that normal for New England
audiences?  I can't tell, since I know it's a different planet up there,
but in Austin, if you had a group of diehards together like that, they
probably would have been body surfing before they had a chance to play a
single chord.  As for me, well, I didn't mind as much as I should have.  I
was way too tired (since I have a habit of overexhausting myself when I
travel to the point where I nearly collapse) and I knew I was enjoying
their music, so it was a choice of me standing there and tapping my toes,
or just kicking back.

The whole set sounded almost like an album.  It was that pristine sounding
that nothing was added or deleted to the mix.  There were no unexplained
glam riffs, etc.  Happily, they pulled "Judy and the Dream of Horses" out
of the moth balls even though Stuart made a couple of failed attempts at
the chords, which I laughed when someone started to shout them out to him. 
If I was near the stage, I probably would have too.  Much of the humor that
night wasn't really from jokes, but just from the band's personality.  For
example, I couldn't figure out where the hell Stuart disappeared to halfway
through the set.  You heard a voice, and nothing else.  As I say this, I
realize it's one of those things you had to be there for, but when the
other members had to ask him a question and his head suddenly popped up
from behind the keyboards, it was the idiosyncraticy of the whole thing to
leave the stage completely void of the lead singer when they could have
easily turned the keyboard sideways so people could get a look that I found
amusing.  They nearly played all of my favorites, and when halfway through
"The boy done wrong again" I heard a low singing all throughout the hall,
it truly provided a warm moment.

But the atmosphere of the band was like that of one in a soundcheck.  Maybe
because they didn't have the luxury of growing up in bars and clubs where
they were 4th on the bill and fighting for people's attention from an
indifferent audience they didn't have the chance to develop a stage
persona.  Suddenly, they are being asked to perform to halls with 700
people in them.  Most acts with some staying power know how to get the
audience involved, but this group is different.  They made a complete cult
around people who heard their albums first and saw them live second.  Not
once did they really feel the need to fight for fan loyalty or see the
faces of the people buying their albums, so to them, I suppose the live
show is nothing more than an unneeded aftereffect.  True, it's hard to rock
out on violin, but there's got to be some energy somewhere that can be
tapped.

Sadly, there was no encore, and by the way they questioned the audience to
whether they were enjoying themselves, you can't help but think that they
saw the show as a failure.  It's hard to get a coffee house crowd out of
their chairs.  It's just not cool.  I don't know what anyone else was
thinking, but the T-shirts definitely sold out.

s.s.
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