The Shins - The Gaelic Club - 09/12/03

Belvedere Jehosophat - Wednesday, 10 December 2003 - Print Version

I never particularly liked The Shins, certainly not enough to bother buying an album, but, driven by boredom, I decided to check them out anyway. The supports acts were Starkey (Starky?) and Iron & Wine.

I left home too late to catch Starky (Starkey?) and I was kind of disappointed because there's a song of theirs on the radio that I don't entirely hate.

I did, unfortunately, manage to see Iron & Wine. I have never seen a more boring band in all my puff. It was this slow to mid-tempo-ish folk music. All of the songs sounded the exactly the same with no change in dynamics.

I turned to the guy selling shirts (who I'd met a few times) and I told him that I'd never seen a band "suck so much cock," only to have it pointed out that he was wearing an Iron & Wine shirt. Oops, my bad.

The Shins, for those who don't know them, are a pop/rock band. They're the kind of band which write melodies that are often described as being "gorgeous" in popular music magazines.

They had a little success on the back of a single called Know Your Onion!, and, in fact, this was the only song that I really wanted to hear, and, in fact, I knew that the gig wasn't going to be over until they played that particular song.
And play it they did, at the end of a six—six, mind you!—song encore. Who encores for six songs? The encore was half the length of the gig itself.

The Shins put on a pretty good show, I guess, probably worth the forty bucks that I paid to see them. It was worth it for the crowd alone—I have never seen so many angular haircuts in all my life and neither have I seen so many boys that looked like girls, and girls that looked boys.

Incidentally, their drummer looks like he is made entirely out of ham.

Just as I left the Gaelic Club I saw a guy walking up to public telephones and ripping the handsets off the receivers.
Woo! Go get 'em, Tiger! THE REVOLUTION WILL NOT BE TELEVISED!!

Also, I bumped into Bluto's Cousin and some of her friends - peace and love.

I am never happy
I am always sad

Belvedere Jehosophat

 

Fart a dutch oven and keep a fresh and up-to-date eyeball on our latest reviews, articles and filthy somesuch. Ahhh, breathe it.

Or simply subscribe via email:


The Photography of Arfy Papadam
Arfy is a Sydney-based band photog who sneaks the sweat off the live music stage.

Other live music reviews

 

Essays and articles

Kitchen Antics - Chicken in Faux Ragoƻt
Ladder of flavour? A few rungs above bland. This can be constructed & delivered in less than 30 minutes, depending on your aptitude with a knife.
Lassitude abandons the Throwing Knives
Down on the chamber pot, the percolating smells brew up quite the nasal fest. From the wafting fumes, the air solidifies partial sweaty rock and musty punk, a taste hinting at delicious pockets of after-aftertaste, and the not so floral punch of an undone music interview leaves the tongue wanting something else.
Where in Kentucky - Mammoth Cave National Park
Dark and neverending is the trail of a labyrinth below Edmonson County, Kentucky. Beyond the shallow graves and lime walls, Mammoth Cave is the literal long tail of cave systems. Alas, no minotaurs or woolly mammoths call the caverns home.

Undone, unbound, the sounds aground, life's taking the train with a soundtrack of harmonic dissonance, of inner turmoils and evolutionary spotchecking.

Copyright 2002-2010 The Wax Conspiracy

 

 

Nipple protection from the elements?
Armpit hair needs a lair?
Bellybutton catching too many flies?

Then grab this comfy chest covering and other kinds of T-shirts at The Wax Sweatshop.

id=ufo