St. Vincent (via)
So the biggest little concert celebrating the independent music scene (PLUG founder Gerry Heart was clear to make a distinction between the "independent community" and "indie rock" when I spoke to him last week) went down last Thursday. After a hellacious day in the office, I made it out to catch a good portion of the show.
In a daze, concert-going buddy no. 1 (heretofore known as c-gbn1, which serendipitously makes her sound like a robot) and I entered the cavernous Terminal 5 just as St. Vincent was wrapping up her set. While I procured delicious refreshment, I noticed St. V sounds vaguely Bjorkian. Good for her. The kids like Bjork.
After her (short) set, there was a screening of a Michael Showalter video, which I thought was kind of an odd choice of entertainment, considering that these things were all over the internet in the weeks before, and people interested enough to be at the PLUGs had probably already watched them on Stereogum, or some such. Part of my issue with Terminal 5 is that it's just too big. With things like this, and later, Patton Oswalt's patter and award announcements, which didn't out and out demand the attention of the room, everyone just tuned out, semi-patiently waiting for the next band to begin.
"Jesus Christ! I feel like my dad at a rave," said Oswalt, trying in vain to capture the ears of the room before announcing the Forms. Who, for their part, were very calming to those who might still be wound up from a very busy day at work. They played a couple of minor-key rock songs.
More after the jump ...
I liked Oswalt's style in announcing the awards. He was pretty jokey about it, in just the right way.
This was the first year that the PLUG was an actual award, and it really did make a difference, lending a bit of legitimacy to the proceedings. Maybe we're just programed to expect it, but seeing a winner thrust some metal object in the air while thanking, you know, whoever, is part of the whole awards ceremony visual vocabulary.
Dizzee Rascal performed next. The performance was a lot of fun, with Dizzee and his hype man bounding all over the stage, chanting over dark synthy beats. It was kind of like a wonderfully weird dystopian playground anthem.
José Gonzáles followed with a two song set, one of which was "Down the Line," a favorite. Sadly, his delicate voice and guitar strumming were barely audible. In an effort to make the space seem more intimate, they set him up on the bump out of the stage, but the force and the volume just weren't there. Oh well, maybe I can catch him at the Highline tomorrow.
Stereogum, Pitchfork and Merge win for best blog, music website and label respectively. At this point, when I kind of chuckled at someone else's "Of course" to the P'fork win and c-gbn1 looked a little lost at the comment, it dawns on me that this is really quite an "in group" celebration.
Patton Oswalt refers to Iron & Wine as "bearded and sad" in some throw away comment. Hee.
Then, Impact Award winner: Nick Cave! Well, not yet. He accepts his award and then, in an echo of the Oscars ... a montage! Everyone is really into this.
Then we get actual performance by Nick (& his Bad Seeds). And they hit the ground running. These bad boys in suits are explosive and raucous, rude and rocking. Nick (and his porn star mustache and mullet) struts around the stage and takes ownership of the entire place, like a demented carnival barker.
I've always kind of pigeon-holed Cave's music as just plain dark, scary and awesome; but he's actually all over the map, genre-wise. From f-ed up sixties girl-group, to evil blues to even paranoid two-tone ska. He's flexible.
The band also did my favorite thing (during "Red Right Hand," I think; my notes are unclear) where they all converge from their separate parts into a kind of unified freak-out, a choreographed dissonance, if you will. Nick took out his rage beating a tambourine against the mic stand while the rest of the Seeds wailed (literally) on their respective instruments.
Good show.
eh.www.amNY.com