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It is dark. There is a buzz from the small gathering of hipsters and emo
kids.
We are sitting there. on the floor, leaning on the stage, eating
apples. In
the foyer (past the friskings and the stairs and the glaring
eyes of security)
there is a table with a bucket full of ripe, Red
Delicious apples on it, and a
sign that says "take one." So
we're eating apples. Luke is twisted round
sideways, leaning on me while I
lean on Neima. Nora is babbling. A man in a
shirt that looks as if it's
made of gold lame leans down.
"Are those your legs?" He
asks Luke, blocking the light.
"Yes," he says, patting his limbs
reassuringly.
"Oh, good. I was just wondering." And the man
returns to whatever he was
doing before.
"That was weird,"
I say.
The room darkens, and the purple lights go up. There is a slow
crescendo of
reverb, and this is my first glimpse at Helio Sequence.
The singer of Helio Sequence is a mild-looking man, small in stature and
with a
fine, tufty mop of hair falling into his eyes. He plays his guitar
like a
typewriter, with precision and deliberation. His amp is way up, and
the first
sound he makes is from his pick making slow circles around his
guitar strings.
Have you ever gotten your finger wet and then traced the
lip of a wine glass
with it? That's what it's like. The soundwaves are
immense. He's got a nice
voice. He looks to be such a nice boy.
He's so well-mannered and quiet-
seeming. And he plays the harmonica--that
harmonica number is amazing. He plays with soul. When he sings
he�s got this look like he�s kissing the mic. It�s all very
sweet. What a dreamboat.
The drummer is another story. The drummer in
action resembles a baby attached
to a fork stuck in a wall socket. With
every jittery, spastic beat his face
contorts differently. It's really
something, I'll tell you. He's the reason I
was transfixed during their
set. Fascinating, really. I just couldn�t help but stare. I just kept
thinking, �What�s he going to do next?�
But aside from their showmanship, their music was chill for the most
part,
though I could sense the creeping specter of an emo influence in
there. I
couldn't discern the lyrics, but I know it was there. I could
smell it. Which
isn't criticism, per se. Just a comment is all.
http://www.theheliosequence.com
The Helio Sequence
A radio plays some hipster music or other, plastic cups formerly
containing
beer are strewn everywhere already, awaiting the crunching
pressure of feet.
The crazy man makes sure Luke�s legs are still his.
�Are those legs still yours?�
�Um, yes.�
�Just checking!�
The Shins are a much better band to jump
up and down to, less ethereal, more
rock �n� roll. They�re
Nora�s favorite�that is to say, she needed to be right
in front
of James� shoe. Apparently, Nora�s in love with James� shoe.
It�s
pretty. Here, I�ll quote Nora:
�They have a
new bassist named Dave, and Luke didn�t really like him but I
do��
�Yes I do!�
�Okay, Luke was undecided
for awhile, but now he thinks he�d be a better
bassist for the band.
Marty is really funny; he�s the keyboardist.� Nora�s
been
to see them five times; I�m inclined to think she�s a Shins junkie.
At any rate, the singer, James, Nora�s idol, has a puppydog face
and a sweet voice. �He�s pretty in every single way,� says Nora.
He�s got the emo-hipster look; the patterned-collared shirt and the
well-fitting pants. �He wore a really nice sweater on Sunday,� says
Nora. He has a short beard and huge, dark eyes. He doesn�t move too much
while he sings; he isn�t much of a showman.
The keyboardist,
however, is a laugh-riot in an afro. He plays furiously and
his fluffy
�do sways and bounces jauntily. He was the life of that set. I
think
their set is the best of the three, energetic and well played. They�re
also of a modest disposition, which is definitely a plus.
The Shins
Again, the
gold-lam� shirt man checks on Luke�s limbs.
Nora says,
�You�re silly.�
He sticks out his hand and says, �Hi,
I�m silly!�
�Hi, I�m Nora.�
Matt says,
�I can�t really stand the singer of Modest Mouse. Just his
voice.�
But Matt�s not at the show, so he can go to Hell.
The Modest Mouse singer, Isaac Brock swaggers onstage with toilet paper
duct
taped over his mouth and around his cheeks, terrorist-style, with a
military
cap. Somebody calls something out I can�t discern. �Go
home,� Brock spits
into the mic. �Just go the fuck home.�
Then they launch into �Paper Thin
Walls,� a personal favorite of
mine, which makes me happy, despite the fact
that because of the
distortion and volume of his amp, it takes several bars for
me to figure
out what in God�s name they�re playing. But when you�re seeing
your favorite band, you can forgive things like that.
Among the
songs on their set list a number from their as-yet unreleased album.
I
can�t tell you whether or not it sounds like it�s going to be good,
because I
honestly couldn�t really tell what they sounded like.
Speaking of their
setlist, there are a heck of a lot of people who think
they can sway the course
of musical events in a concert. �Cowboy
Dan!� �Life Like Weeds!� scream
the rabid audience members.
�You know what?� asks Brock. �How about we play
the songs
on the set list and if we play one that you requested, we can pretend
we
played it just for you.� And the crowd goes wild. Go figure.
Their finale is �Trailer Trash,� off �The Lonesome Crowded
West� record, which
is a fine choice, if you ask me, one of the
better ones off that album. Nora likes it too, so it must be good.
As
we make our exit, wadingthrough plastic cups and straws and Lord knows what
else, the PA croons �Greensleeves,� on the violin and then the
guitar, and then
the synthesizer, and who knows what comes next, because
we�re leaving.
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