The Big Green House

Monday, September 22, 2003

 

Mark Arm is trying to kill me

Mudhoney, The Fall-outs, The Shut-ins, Crocodile Cafe, 9/18/03

We left the house far too early, as it turns out. We�d forgotten that shows at the Croc don�t even get underway until 10:00. That�s OK, though, since it left us plenty of time for a nice Anniversary dinner & a few drinks before showtime. We were actually in the club early enough to hear part of what we later figured out was Mudhoney�s soundcheck, and for me to be nearly bowled over by Mark Arm as I was awaiting my turn at the bar. I said, "Excuse me". He went about his business as if I wasn�t there.

We ran into Science Girl�s old friend Brian before the show got underway. Brian used to book shows into Zak�s, before it went under. He said he�ll be doing some booking at the Funhouse, which is essentially Zak�s under new management if I understood correctly. (There were beers involved, so I may have missed a few important details.) In the meantime, he�s booked FM Knives and The Spits into the Sunset Tavern on the 27th. If you�re gonna be anywhere near Ballard next Saturday, it would be well worth your while to check it out. It�s a record release party for the FM Knives, who are driving all the way up from Sacramento (!) just for this show. I�ve heard nothing but good things about both bands, and Brain is a genuinely nice guy who deserves the support. Besides, the cover is only $7 and you know you�ll spend at least three times that ON BEER ALONE over the course of the week, so you�ve really got no excuse not to show up.

Mark Arm almost ran into me as he was exiting the men�s room and I was entering. I didn�t say anything this time.

On with the show, eh? None of us had ever heard (or heard of) The Shut-ins before. As it turns out, they�re a power trio with a nice if innocuous line in the garage end of punk rock. The singer-guitarist sounds something like what you might expect Bon Scott would have sounded had someone snuck up behind him and given him an atomic wedgie while he was singing. Kind of a strangulated growl, I suppose you might say. I found it a little off-putting at first, but it does grow on one over the course of a set. That�s about all that stood out about them. That makes it sound as if I�m dismissing them, and that�s not my intention at all. They do what they do well. It�s just� nothing really exceptional.

No near collisions with anyone between sets.

On record� oh, all right, on CD, The Fall-outs also come down on the garage end of the scale, if in a much more distinctive way. Short and punchy, with lotsa tuff riffs and what the sociologists like to call alienated lyrics. Such was indeed the case Friday night, although SG and I were both somewhat surprised to hear overtones of surf music as well. I thought maybe it had just been me, but she brought it up herself, with no prompting from yours truly.

The other odd thing about seeing the Fall-outs live is the seemingly meek demeanor of singer-guitarist Dave Holmes. He looks as if he could be a kindergarten teacher. For all I know, he is. He's very much not the rock star, as SG put it. He essentially stands there, playing and singing, working out his lesson plan in his head. It�s somewhat at odds with the sound he�s wringing out of his guitar, not to mention the nature of the lyrics and the way he sings them. Having only heard the band on CD before, I half expected them to be jumping and flailing all over the stage. The fact that they did not do so & still put on a good show is a testament to how good they are. I�d go see them again, in a flash.

In an apparent rush to get backstage after The Fall-outs finished their set, Mark Arm ran into me. Again. By this point, I was starting to get a little paranoid. I was wondering just how I�d pissed him off. I don�t think I�d ever encountered him before. Maybe I�d cut him off in traffic once.

I got a bad feeling when the PA system started playing Deep Purple just before Mudhoney went on. "Hiway Star", fucking "Smoke on the Water"� it�s just not a good sign. Within five minutes, we saw a very out-of-it guy being 86�d, and an apparently quite upset young lady nearly ripped SG�s arm off in her attempt to get out of the club. When the band finally took the stage, they began with a slow, sludgy (no kidding?), mostly instrumental piece. SG felt that they were "just wanking".

I�m not all that familiar with their work, so I was curious to see what they�d be like live. Their sound is what you might imagine you�d get if you had vintage Iggy writing songs for vintage Black Sabbath. There was a time, back when I was, um, herbally indulging myself, when I would have been all over their wall of sludge like a tornado on a trailer park. Nowadays, I just find it kinda tedious. Don�t get me wrong, now; I�m not saying they were bad. I kinda liked their faster numbers, and I was glad I got to hear them play the immortal "Touch me, I�m Sick". I�m just not much into that really thick sound anymore. Nor is Science Girl, and she cut her musical teeth on it, so to speak, having grown up here.

This would probably be a good time to mention that I was somewhat freaked out by the fact that, from where we were standing, it looked as if Mr. Arm was staring� right� at� me throughout the show. It was a little unnerving, I must admit.

At any rate, when SG suggested that we cut out after about 45 minutes of their set so we could beat the rush for a taxi, I readily agreed. I think that may be the first time I�ve ever left a show before the headliner had finished. Neither of us was terribly into the show, and we�d seen the band we�d come to see. Besides, I didn�t want to give Mr. Arm the opportunity to smack me upside my head with his ultra-groovy silver-glitter-finish Les Paul. Mark, whatever I may have done, I�m truly sorry.

bmarkey 9/22/2003 06:28:00 PM