The King, The Cool Guy and the Not-Loud-Enough
I promise to commit no acts of violence, either physical or otherwise if things come alive.
Interpol at the Hordern. The first person I recognise when we walk in is a boy wearing a denim shirt. He's tall. I know he was at The National. I feel like he's part of the architecture crowd and I've met him before but I don't know who he is. The one thing I do know is that he has cool taste in music. Perhaps he's just from the train. He passes me on the stairs in the Fox and Lion.
The second person I recognise when we walk into the Hordern is The King, Richard Kingsmill. There's a trail linking three people: The King, The Cool Guy and me. That trail goes through Sufjan Stevens, The National and Interpol. That trail tells me Sydney is small.
They begin with Mammoth. Behind us a portly man in a suit and glasses begins to sing. He sings every single word through Mammoth and into the next, and the next. At first we roll our eyes in acknowledgment. And then we seeth. Eventually I give him the narrow eye and for a while he stops.
While watching I'm thinking all these things: the guitarist moves around the stage. I think he's shark-like but then realise that he's too fast and actually he has the speed of a huntsman spider. Moving without trying. First here and then there on the drum kit. I want Paul Banks to be wearing a suit and the music needs to be MUCH louder. Carlos has posture to die for.
Noonie says it's like watching them on TV and I do agree except that I've been thinking more generally that the whole sound is done now. She says can't pick their influences so I go to Myspace to see who they've listed. In the space for influences there is a promo link to merchandise.
In bed I try to start at the beginning. Turn on the Bright Lights on the i-pod but it comes to a point where I can stand no more of the voice.
And then it's Friday night. Singles night in Bondi. Either physical or otherwise. It's the otherwise that you have to watch.
Interpol at the Hordern. The first person I recognise when we walk in is a boy wearing a denim shirt. He's tall. I know he was at The National. I feel like he's part of the architecture crowd and I've met him before but I don't know who he is. The one thing I do know is that he has cool taste in music. Perhaps he's just from the train. He passes me on the stairs in the Fox and Lion.
The second person I recognise when we walk into the Hordern is The King, Richard Kingsmill. There's a trail linking three people: The King, The Cool Guy and me. That trail goes through Sufjan Stevens, The National and Interpol. That trail tells me Sydney is small.
They begin with Mammoth. Behind us a portly man in a suit and glasses begins to sing. He sings every single word through Mammoth and into the next, and the next. At first we roll our eyes in acknowledgment. And then we seeth. Eventually I give him the narrow eye and for a while he stops.
While watching I'm thinking all these things: the guitarist moves around the stage. I think he's shark-like but then realise that he's too fast and actually he has the speed of a huntsman spider. Moving without trying. First here and then there on the drum kit. I want Paul Banks to be wearing a suit and the music needs to be MUCH louder. Carlos has posture to die for.
Noonie says it's like watching them on TV and I do agree except that I've been thinking more generally that the whole sound is done now. She says can't pick their influences so I go to Myspace to see who they've listed. In the space for influences there is a promo link to merchandise.
In bed I try to start at the beginning. Turn on the Bright Lights on the i-pod but it comes to a point where I can stand no more of the voice.
And then it's Friday night. Singles night in Bondi. Either physical or otherwise. It's the otherwise that you have to watch.
posted by noonie at 11:00 PM
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