A few days ago, Lincoln Hall was buzzing with anticipation of Australia’s highly acclaimed psych-rock group, Tame Impala. The chatter of how “nobody has made music like this in years” filled the venue and came from the old and young that had gathered there. It was almost too much. During Yuck’s very strong opening performance, where pop melodies, catchy hooks and growling, grungy guitar mixed wonderfully, the band gave a shout-out to the Smith Westerns, calling them Chicago’s version of the Beatles. Instantly, a crowd member disagreed, calling Tame Impala Chicago’s Beatles. While that is likely an exaggeration, it definitely conveyed a message of how much this town has a crush on the Perth quartet. And they didn’t disappoint (for the record, Chicago was the only city in North America where Impala played twice).
As they calmly walked on stage, they looked an odd bunch. I counted no less than 20 bare toes between them as they imported an Aussie aura to town. They wasted no time in establishing their distinct mood and demonstrating their talent. As their hit “Solitude is Bliss” came on, drummer Jay Watson was tight and enthusiastic (as he was throughout the performance) and front-man Kevin Parker instantly set an intense atmosphere in the Hall. Finally, the special marriage of mood, substance, and songwriting Chicago had been waiting for had arrived.
With Tame Impala, the Beatles parallels are inescapable: the Höfner bass, Sgt. Peppers feel and Parker’s almost uncanny vocal resemblance to John Lennon. Following “Expectation”, the group entered a darker transition with clear echoes to “I Want You (She’s So Heavy)”. An audio-visual guitar solo followed where Parker sat on his knees watching a projector visually react to his instrument. Heavy indeed.
With songs like “Jeremy’s Storm” and “Lucidity”, the band displayed intensity, presence, and talent that doesn’t appear too often. Delayed guitar, a strong rhythm section and created a mood and enhanced the strong songwriting. They balanced catchy hooks with psychedelic breaks and had the crowd in awe – and this despite bassist Nick Albrook rarely having more than a foot of space between his seemingly glued together knees (he, puzzlingly, remained in pre-pee position most the show).
The crush on Tame Impala, it turns out, is mutual. The band played their first ever American show in Chicago and were charming as they told the crowd of their favorite haunts and attractions (a vending machine in a nearby hotel). Unfortunately though, this was not enough to improve the only negative of the show that evening, the crowd. Given the strong performance, presence and charisma of the Aussies, it was Chicago that seemed tame – pity for a band that definitely deserved a wilder welcome.
That aside, the show was a success. The band opted to replace the artificial encore institution with a long, thorough, and intense gig. This didn’t seem to bother anyone as most left Lincoln Hall with a smug look on their face. Whether it was to witness the beginning of this promising group’s career or to rock out like they did years ago, fans walked away from a show that managed, like few do, to live up to the hype.
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[Originally posted for The Heard Project. View the original here.]
In Wikipedia we trust.
If so, that means we’re placing most of our trust in the 1,400 people (approximately 2% of those who write/edit the pages) who have made 73.4% of the edits. That’s a lot of trust in a few people. Still, in these 1,400 I trust. They’ve helped me through many a question and taught me quite a few random facts along the way.
One not so random fact, though, is that Technotown has a population of almost 3.5 million people. They just missed out on one thing: even as the second most populous city in Europe, Berlin is a village.
Take what happened on Saturday: I, late for my 6pm appointment with my flatmates to help sublet one of our rooms for a month, miss what is weirdly-yet-rightly called “casting” by a few minutes. Thankfully, Wikipedia isn’t the only thing I trust in. I took my flatmates’ word and agreed to have François move in. Quiet and shy, he was pleased when I called him: c’est une bonne nouvelle, he said. Right before I was off to meet some friends, though, he rings back and bails on us. Bummer.
Roll the tape an hour forward and my friend is telling me a guy just left their place and is gonna take over his room while he’s in Jamaica. Dee described him as “quiet and shy”. Was he French?, I asked half-jokingly. “Yeah, how’d you know?” Wow, c‘est une bonne nouvelle. In such a big city, what are the chances? Well, as I’ve discovered, they’re high. Sure, Technotown boasts a lot of minimal - no discussion. Still, it’s also more of a town than you’d think. (Even François and I, it turns out, have friends in common.)
If you expect the same thing out of a city with 3.5m people, than we agree this is strange. The thing is though, it’s not. Like Sunday clubbing, bumping into people is a staple here. Whether it’s a colleague, friend, or a co-passenger on a plane back from Belgium, it’s likely you’ll probably see them again.
What make this so strange is the space involved in all these spontaneous run-ins. Berlin is a spacious place: it has about 1/4 the population density of London. I mainly hang in only 5 areas: X, N, P, M, F - and that’s already relatively adventurous. Though my brother is the numerically literate one, even I know that’s a lot of people (about 800,000 in those areas) spread over a lot of concrete. Amazing.
Just another pointless observation? Probably. Still, I’m trying to take something out of it. Since there’s such a high probability of meeting people, in short, don’t treat people like shit because you never know when you’ll see someone again (chances are here, you will). Maybe that explains why I find people here to be so open and friendly. They know this and don’t need to run to Wikiville to figure it out. Here’s to hoping other cities catch on too.
foto: thx.
