The sound of music

In the last two weeks, I’ve seen Gandalf Murphy and the Slambovian Circus of Dreams at the Ark; Sancho Panchez, Indigo Girls, and Ladysmith Black Mambazo at the Concert of Colors; and the Dixie Chicks at Joe Louis Arena.

If that kind of musical schizophrenia isn’t enough to drive me back to blogging, I don’t know what is.

First off, Gandalf! I can’t describe this band. They are . . . well . . . it’s like this: the drummer looks homeless; the guitar player is a jam-band refugee; there’s an androgynous vaguely creepy silent bass player that lurks in the background; there's a chick, Ms. Goth 1996, who appears to be actually named "Tinkerbell" who plays accordian, cello, and theremin; and, finally, the lead singer looks exactly like you would expect the frontman of a band called "The Slambovian Circus of Dreams" to look, which is to say, he looks like an evil Amishman. The play all kinds of music, sounding at times, like the Who, like the Stones, like hippy singer-songwriters, and once, like Hillbilly Pink Floyd. Also, they taught the audience how to yodel. They totally rock, and you really need to see them, so I am just going to suggest that you go over to Radio Free Slambovia and take a listen. I recommend “Never Fit,” “Alice in Space,” “I Wish,” “Glide,” and “Moondog House.” They will be back in Ann Arbor in late August, and I will be herding you all into a van to go out and see them. As you have no choice in the matter, I expect you to go along quietly.

The Concert of Colors was fantastic this year as well. Commander Pop, Boop, and I went down on Friday to check out the opening night stuff, and then all came back on Saturday for another whole day of fun. I have to say that there weren’t any bands that totally blew me away like there have been in years past. I enjoyed seeing the Indigo Girls, though, and Ladysmith Black Mambazo were as excellent as I had expected them to be. I even managed—barely, very barely—to avoid getting into a fistfight over seats. Yay for me!

Then, last Friday, I went to the Dixie Chicks concert. I have a few things to say about going to the Dixie Chicks concert, and the first is: shut up. Come to think of it, the second, third, and fourth things I have to say to you all about my having attended the Dixie Chicks concert are also: shut up. So whatever witty remark you have come up with regard to my attendance, you can save. And thank you. I had a great time, they put on a good show, I was there in the company of gentleman in actual cowboy hat, and my tickets were free. Also, I should note that Natalie Mains is exactly three feet tall. I have a question for the much cooler, much more frequently-concert-attending readers out there. When did we all decide that the tried-and-true practice of holding a lighter aloft during a ballad was going to be replaced by the infinitely less-cool, immeasurably more-toolish trend of opening up your cell phone and holding up the glowing screen? Because honestly? Y’all look like idiots.

Yes, I just said “y’all.” You know what? Shut up.