Me Bleedin' Ears

Sonic Youth, Showbox 7/14/2004 
 
The timing for a headache couldn't be any worse. 
 
I'd never seen Sonic Youth live in concert, but by reputation I knew the band was loud, and its sound often times is experimental. Lisa and I got to the Showbox pretty late -- about an hour and a half after the show was supposed to start. We should have waited another hour before going inside. When we got there, we were "treated" to the experience that is Wolf Eyes, a band that I'd never heard of before. When they started playing, it was obvious why Sonic Youth chose to bring them on the tour. For over half an hour, the band gave us an onslaught, or assault, of high pitched feedback, distortion, screaming, and new ways of using noise makers. Most bands that actually are worth listening to use the noise to introduce a song, or bring it to an exciting close. Not Wolf Eyes. Entire "songs" were devoted to the ear splitting crap. And it was every shit eating song in their set. You know, they even broke out a foley artist's tool for emulating thunder, a piece of sheet metal. It was so bad, you couldn't make out what people were yelling five feet away. Through it all, these guys played, bobbing and head banging to a beat only they could hear. I thought to myself, if that's all it takes for me to be noticed as a musician, Sonic Youth could take me on tour. I could just go on stage taking a shit on a miked toilet, playing a one stringed guitar blasting feedback through a five dollar amp. I'd never felt such animosity towards a band like this in my life. I wanted to beat them with their instruments until I blacked out from rage. I wanted to go to a gun range, and shoot a .57 right next to their unplugged ears while I shoved bamboo under their nails, just so they would know what they had made me go through. If you think I'm belaboring the point or exaggerating, I wasn't alone. I noticed that a lot of folks in the audience, with years of rock clubbing under their belts, had facial expressions that switched between scowls and cringes. One of the security guys walked buy and remarked (amazingly audible at the time), "They suck so bad, it makes me sweat!!" True, it was really hot in the room, but my body seemed to only notice the one of its five senses that was dying a horrible death. If my ears had undergone this kind of treatment early in my concert-going life, I would have stayed home every night of the rest of my life. When they finally ended their set, there was a fifty-fifty mix between cheering (I'm still astounded at these poser fans) and booing. I had no energy to boo. My head was pounding, and I was just relieved to have the calm of a room full of people jabbering.

When Sonic Youth finally took the stage, I was to exhausted to care. As I write this, I'm pissed that I couldn't fully take on the experience of this legendary band and give them an enthusiastic listen. I was agitated and ready for the night to be over. I'm pissed that I'm devoting less time and words to the Sonic Youth set. I mean, I enjoyed their set. Especially when we retreated to the back of the room. For as noisy as this band is, at least they know how to make music. They have a mix of tones to their songs, ranging from the moaning, purring, and screeching of Kim Gordon, to the frantic, sarcastic whine of Thurston Moore. Most of it is definitive pop noise punk, and by all accounts not much has changed in their songwriting since they formed in the 1970s. Sonic Youth is probably the best at changing tempo in the middle of their songs, going from beautifully layered guitar to speaker breaking noise, and back again. This, folks, is how you're supposed to use noise.

But I wasn't able to make it through the set. My head continue to hurt, and I was really hungry. We traveled up to Capitol Hill to enjoy a couple of Dick's burgers. And it was so quiet, I nearly wept. Headache abated, we went home, and I fell asleep, grateful for once for living in the quiet suburbs.