This concert should’ve never really happened.
The Felice Brothers were due to play a $12 concert at SPACE Gallery in Portland, and I was in Columbus, Ohio.
While the band was doing soundcheck, I was sitting at my boarding gate at Columbus Airport, reading Ralph Nader’s new novel, and eating a Clif Bar. My literary included a layover in Baltimore, where I wolfed down a slice of pizza and ogled New England’s MLS squad ‘The Revolution.’ (As I expected, they all looked like sissies!)
I then sat on the tarmac in the Baltimore, attempting to drown out the doofus behind me by singing the chorus to ‘Whiskey in my Whiskey’:
My ETA in Portland was 10:15, but when do airlines ever arrive on time?
And doors opened at SPACE Gallery at 7:30.
No chance, right?
The Felice Brothers were due to play a $12 concert at SPACE Gallery in Portland, and I was in Columbus, Ohio.
While the band was doing soundcheck, I was sitting at my boarding gate at Columbus Airport, reading Ralph Nader’s new novel, and eating a Clif Bar. My literary included a layover in Baltimore, where I wolfed down a slice of pizza and ogled New England’s MLS squad ‘The Revolution.’ (As I expected, they all looked like sissies!)
I then sat on the tarmac in the Baltimore, attempting to drown out the doofus behind me by singing the chorus to ‘Whiskey in my Whiskey’:
I put some whiskey in my whiskey
I put some heartbreak into my heart
I put my boots on that old dancefloor
And I put three rounds, Lord, in my .44
I put some heartbreak into my heart
I put my boots on that old dancefloor
And I put three rounds, Lord, in my .44
My ETA in Portland was 10:15, but when do airlines ever arrive on time?
And doors opened at SPACE Gallery at 7:30.
No chance, right?
I first heard of The Felice Brothers from Uncut Magazine, who listed them on their Top 100 albums of the decade list. The article included a picture of the band swimming fully-clothed and still wearing their hats. I mistook them for British. I mean, going swimming fully-clothed and wearing a hat sounds like the queer shite that only Brits do. But I was wrong; they’re actually from upstate New York.
My copy of Uncut Magazine also came with a free cd, which included the song ‘Don’t Wake the Scarecrow.’ The song is a creepy faux Americana ballad that reminds me of a musical version of Cormac McCarthy’s Blood Meridian. (And by the way, who, other than Cormac McCarthy, knew that bald albinos could be so badass?) ‘Don’t Wake the Scarecrow’ was so good that it made me wish that I had a favorite heroin-addicted prostitute with whom I could plan a weekend getaway to Reno.
On the strength of ‘Don’t Wake the Scarecrow,’ I bought the album in a record store in Dayton, Ohio. It wasn’t my first choice; I was actually trying to buy the newest Fleet Foxes album. Wow, that would’ve been a big mistake! I now know that the Fleet Foxes sound as sissy as the New England Revolution look, fruity Odwalla drinking mofos!
My copy of Uncut Magazine also came with a free cd, which included the song ‘Don’t Wake the Scarecrow.’ The song is a creepy faux Americana ballad that reminds me of a musical version of Cormac McCarthy’s Blood Meridian. (And by the way, who, other than Cormac McCarthy, knew that bald albinos could be so badass?) ‘Don’t Wake the Scarecrow’ was so good that it made me wish that I had a favorite heroin-addicted prostitute with whom I could plan a weekend getaway to Reno.
On the strength of ‘Don’t Wake the Scarecrow,’ I bought the album in a record store in Dayton, Ohio. It wasn’t my first choice; I was actually trying to buy the newest Fleet Foxes album. Wow, that would’ve been a big mistake! I now know that the Fleet Foxes sound as sissy as the New England Revolution look, fruity Odwalla drinking mofos!
I expected big things from the album, but, to be honest, I was mildly disappointed. It was patchy. The songs tended towards slower tempos, and too many slow tempo songs spell boredom over an entire album. But songs like ‘Frankie’s Gun’ and ‘Greatest Show on Earth’ were catchy and fun. Rave reviews on Pitchfork.com compared the album to early Dylan and The Band.
I arrived at Portland International Jetway (relatively) on time. By the time I navigated baggage claim, it was approaching 10:30. Harboring very low expectations, I hopped a cab, dropped my bag off, and zoomed off to SPACE Gallery.
What luck! Apparently, I wasn’t the only person to have experienced travel delays that evening; The Felice Brothers had been delayed for hours at the Canadian border. They were running super-late, to the point that the organizers were becoming concerned that they were languishing in a Canadian gulag.
According to rumor, Canadian Mounties at the border crossing mistook the band for drug-smuggling hobos. And to Canada’s credit, they are a sketchy-looking bunch of dudes, traveling in a van, and claiming to be “brothers.”
The Felice Brothers arrived no more than ten minutes before I did.
It was a great show: loud, late, & very sweaty. It felt like a Cajun Catskills Fais-do-do. Cheap PBR flowed like the waters of a bubbling Hudson Valley spring. The songs that came off as slow on the album, sounded great live; they were very energetic and endearingly messy.
The only downside to The Felice Brothers’ run-in with the Canadian Mounties was that lead singer, Ian Felice’s, clothes had apparently been confiscated at the border. This confiscation forced him to play the entire show wearing his Grandmother’s nightshirt.
I arrived at Portland International Jetway (relatively) on time. By the time I navigated baggage claim, it was approaching 10:30. Harboring very low expectations, I hopped a cab, dropped my bag off, and zoomed off to SPACE Gallery.
What luck! Apparently, I wasn’t the only person to have experienced travel delays that evening; The Felice Brothers had been delayed for hours at the Canadian border. They were running super-late, to the point that the organizers were becoming concerned that they were languishing in a Canadian gulag.
According to rumor, Canadian Mounties at the border crossing mistook the band for drug-smuggling hobos. And to Canada’s credit, they are a sketchy-looking bunch of dudes, traveling in a van, and claiming to be “brothers.”
The Felice Brothers arrived no more than ten minutes before I did.
It was a great show: loud, late, & very sweaty. It felt like a Cajun Catskills Fais-do-do. Cheap PBR flowed like the waters of a bubbling Hudson Valley spring. The songs that came off as slow on the album, sounded great live; they were very energetic and endearingly messy.
The only downside to The Felice Brothers’ run-in with the Canadian Mounties was that lead singer, Ian Felice’s, clothes had apparently been confiscated at the border. This confiscation forced him to play the entire show wearing his Grandmother’s nightshirt.
Take a look:
And, believe it or not, those two blokes in the photograph are the only two real brothers in The Felice Brothers.
Those two are brothers?
Are you sure?
Ian looks like Errol Flynn; while James looks like a frickin’ professional grizzly bear wrestler!
No wonder the Canadian Mounties were suspicious…
No comments:
Post a Comment