You been doing all this dope producing
You got a chance to show them what time it is

Jon Brion isn’t famous in the sense that most people would recognize him on the street, or even in the sense that many people would recognize his name. Indeed, the most common reaction I got when I told people that I was going to see him play last night at the Canal Room was, “Who?” But Jon Brion is famous in the sense that he has (among other things) produced and/or collaborated with some Really Big Names (Aimee Mann, Fiona Apple, Rufus Wainwright, Kanye West) and composed the soundtracks for Punch-Drunk Love and I ♥ Huckabees. He also released a solo record in 2000 (buy it, you’ll thank me).

Last night at the Canal Room, Jon Brion made it clear to a very attentive, very polite audience that he is a genius, a pop savant who plays music for the sheer joy of it. His 90+ minute set was a blend of his own material and an homage to the history of rock and pop music. I am badly under-educated in the annals of pop history, so I missed a lot of his references, but I heard Prince’s Controversey (sung into some sort of Korg vocal manipulator), Love Will Keep Us Together, and God Only Knows (the lyrics and harmonies to which, apparently, were known to everyone but me last night).

Brion was on stage by himself, but, on several occasions, accompanied himself on huge rock-out numbers. Here’s how it works: he sits down at the drum kit, plays for a minute or two, then loops that continuously. He walks (or, more accurately, trips, as he’s so enthusiastic to get the next tracks down that he doesn’t bother to check his walkway for pesky cables and guitars) to the piano, and starts playing again over the drum loop. After recording a few tracks there, he stands up, walks to the front of the stage, picks up his guitar and lays down a bass track (or two or three). Then the fun begins(!), as he jams away on the guitar and vocal parts. He doesn’t really look the part of a rock star, but he’s having so much fun that nobody cares.

The fun that he has on stage is deeply infectious. Watch him sitting at the piano and smiling to himself as he realizes that, “Hey, Captain and Tenille would go great right here” and you’re hooked. Everything is improvised, but as soon as he’s got something in his head he seems to know exactly where he’s going to go. I can’t help but wonder if he’s like that when producing in the studio, working with such zeal that he barely finishes a guitar part before beginning a fresh take of a background vocal.

With limited time at the end of his set, Brion asked for requests for the last song of the night. He played Trouble, one of his originals, then answered the request for Bowie by saying, “OK, Bowie, that could be fun. I’ll lay down a bunch of tracks. It’ll take awhile, but it’s basically the coolest record ever, so it’ll be a little nod to that.” And he played “Heroes”. As he was screaming, “And I, I will be king/And you, you will be queen” at the end, it was even cooler than the coolest record ever, and I was a convert to the Church of Briontology.

It was weird for me to go to a Green Day show: when Dookie came out, I was about as far from punk rock as one could get. My brother got it and listened to it incessantly as I mocked him for not liking Billy Joel.

Yeah, Billy Joel. You couldn’t get any squarer than I was when I was twelve years old. It’s a miracle that I’ve done anything regarded as even moderately cool in my lifetime.

But I came around eventually, and while I didn’t become a Green Day fan until I heard American Idiot for the first time, I gained at least a modicum of respect for their music by the time I was in high school.

I expected Green Day to play for around 75, maybe 90 minutes. Instead, they played for two hours straight, running all over their end-zone-sized stage the entire time. I had a hard time standing through the whole thing; I don’t know how Billie Joe Armstrong managed to spend two hours running from one 80-foot video screen to the other, then out the stage tongue into the center of the crowd and back. Lots of practice, I guess.

Anyway, the show was a punk rock spectacle of the highest order (even if that is an oxymoron). They opened with five songs from American Idiot (the first three tracks—which prompted me to turn to Amy and ask, “Are they just going to play the record right though?”—then Are We The Waiting? and St. Jimmy), then launched into their extensive (and, to me, largely unknown) back catalog. There were fireworks and flame-throwers, water cannons for hosing down the audience, and a very respectable impromptu band culled from the front floor section. Even with all of Billie Joe’s cheap pops (of which I lost count somewhere around 30), last night was one of the most fun concerts I’ve ever seen.

After the final-final-final song (a solo Time of Your Life), there was a five-minute fireworks finale behind the stage. It was the perfect over-the-top conculsion to an over-the-top stadium rock show.

Later: The Times has a review. I don’t think they liked it.

Short, stream-of-consciousness version: weirdish concert, interrupted due to PA flakiness and offstage talking, loved the covers (especially The Cure’s Lovesong, which I requested months ago on the website so if nobody else requested that particular song (which I like to think is the case) then tori played it for me and amanda), nice night, nice venue, yay it didn’t rain, yay free lawn chairs, boo drunk girl behind us, yay getting home quickly, boo dui checkpoint three blocks from home (it was my first, and though i didn’t drink last night, i think they are unconstitutional even if the supreme court disagrees with me).

In the story, he talks about how Sid Vicious covered My Way, and how scandalized he felt at first. Eventually, he says, he managed to say “At least Sid honestly felt those words when he sang them. I’ve got to let the song live on its own.”

And so, Paul Anka is covering Smells Like Teen Spirit. Paul Anka, apparently, feels stupid and contagious. But I can’t flat-out mock him, because as sick as it sounds, it was catchy. I can’t get the swinging chorus out of my head, complete with brassy, big-band hits: “A mulatto, bam an albino, bam a mosquito, bam my libido, bam my libido…”

Or is it just me?

Franz Ferdinand I don’t know anyone who doesn’t dig this record. It makes me want to dance like the white boy that I am (read: badly), and who am I to resist its calls? The pop hooks are so sharp, it’s like the boys from across the Atlantic cut their tracks with an Xacto knife. (Special thanks to Adam Goldberg from MTV.com for that last line.)

Green Day - American Idiot I borrowed Amy’s copy of this CD, so I haven’t officially bought it—yet. Since 1994, I’ve only ever been peripherally aware of Green Day, but I am loving this record. Rah, angry at the establishment!

DJ Danger Mouse - The Grey Album I still find it hard to believe that you can’t legally buy one of the best albums of the year.

Interpol - Antics Interpol is probably my favorite band right now.

The Killers - Hot Fuss Possibly more fun to listen to than Franz Ferdinand. These guys are awesome.

The Magnetic Fields - i My favorite album of the year. I fully expect to still be listening to this twenty or thirty years from now.

I also have to mention my least favorite album of the year, Wilco’s A Ghost Is Born. Maybe I’ll change my mind on this someday (and I hope I do, because Yankee Hotel Foxtrot still rocks my world), but I found this whole CD mind-numbingly boring. And I have no idea what the people who put this on their top-5 or top-10 list are talking about.

When we got to the venue, I saw Brian Fechino standing outside the bus, and I said hi. I mentioned that I hadn’t gotten out to see them play in awhile, and he brought me up to speed on the current state of the band—“tighter than ever” were his words, I believe. I said I was looking forward to the show and that it was good to see him again, and I wished him luck. It’s good to know that rock stars can still be down-to-earth.

There was a table inside selling live recordings of last evening’s show—probably related to this story I discussed awhile back. Kind of disappointing not to see the taped-off section on the floor in front of the soundboard anymore, but I suppose that’s progress. The guy at the table said CDs were $15 apiece—$15?! That seems a little steep for an 80-minute live set with zero mastering, especially considering all the shows that are available gratis.

It was weird to hear PMB open with Rebecca and Runaway, but I guess they were trying to grab the predominantly Better Than Ezra-supporting crowd with their radio stuff. It was really nice to hear some strong vocal harmonies from the band again—that was the aspect of their music that grabbed me from their recordings before I ever saw them live, and the aspect that I have missed the most since Al Walsh left. I thought that the sound mix was a little bass-heavy, but that may have been a matter of personal preference.

Last night was the first time that I had ever heard a couple songs, most notably Annabelle. Most of the new material I knew from the Holiday 2001 tour, but I was digging the way it has evolved, and I found Brian’s assessment of their tightness to be pretty accurate. It’ll be interesting to see what direction they take with their two new members.

Interpol at Hammerstein Ballroom tonight. More later.

‘round midnight: Amazing, amazing show. Interpol is so not overrated.

Openers: on!air!library! sounded like a Cranberries-Radiohead-Bjork mash-up. Their sound wasn’t so hot, so I can’t say one way or another whether I liked them or not. I suppose I wouldn’t run away screaming if I saw them again.

Secret Machines were very loud and their songs sounded sad. Their feedback made my scalp tingle. They had very spartan lighting.

Spartan Lighting would be an awesome name for a band.

Interpol came on around 9:30. Opened with Next Exit and Evil in order, but broke out of the pattern to play a varied (if somewhat predictable) set. Most of the first half of Antics was played, also Obstacle 1, Say Hello to the Angels, and PDA. Encore consisted of Leif Erickson, Roland, and Stella.

I was a little worried going into the show tonight, fearful that Interpol would just go through the motions the way Ben Kweller did when we saw him last year. Fortunately, my fears were without basis: Interpol is a legitimately kickass live band. Great energy, great sound, and great enthusiasm.

I dare you to download a few tracks by Indie sensation Franz Ferdinand and not be totally hooked within a few listenings. I’ve listened to the entire CD twice today already, and it’s not even noon yet!

I’d recommend Dark of the Matinee, This Fire, Darts of Pleasure, and Take Me Out for starters, but really, the whole CD is fucking amazing.

I did a little bit of toying around to make the beats line up, and this is the section of the result that I think sounds coolest. I’ll probably play with this for several more days before I get bored of it, but this is The First Thing I Did That Sounded Cool. Ladies and gentlemen, I present I Am Jack’s Blatant Copyright Violation.