The Manichean - Cactus Music, Houston TX - November 23, 2012


[Houston TX]
They started with a fast Spanish guitar vibrato/tremolo but all psyched out, which I love – and then one of the band members screamed from the middle of the audience and they became kind of an indie pop version of Godspeed You, at least insofar as the very long talking portion of their music. In reality, they started as a bunch of hipsters drawing out the start time of their set, milling around, being cool. Two of them were affable musicheads, but one of them.. oy vey – he had the worst case of I’m-sure-intentional bedhair I’ve ever seen and he had a squirrel tail hanging from the butt-crack-line of his pants. The squirrel tail just didn’t make sense with the rest of his outfit: a pretty standard vintage set of intellectual hipster clothing. I had the misfortune of standing behind a middle aged rocker woman & man whom they seemed to know well. The entire band made their way over one by one to pay their respects. SquirrelTail smacked the ass of the middle-aged gentleman every time he passed, which would have been fine except I was convinced he was doing it to get attention. Oh those attention-getters, how I hate them yet love them. And SquirrelTail spoke with many pauses, as he considered whether his next words were ironic enough to utter. Well, SquirrelTail turned out to be a stand-out performer. The other two band members twitched nervously on the stage (ducking their heads, rubbing their eyes), while SquirrelTail convulsed and gyrated and generally made a spectacle of himself. SquirrelTail was entirely consumed by the personas and words of his music, which is not a bad thing. Eyes uplifted, hands fluttering, spoken word. I started wondering whether the show was actually performance art rather than music, and then I worried SquirrelTail couldn’t actually sing, but he could. And their lyrics were poignant, verging on Bright Eyes but less witty. They were interesting. But then they were sincere and sweet enough that I wondered whether they were a Christian band – that’s the sort of fear a few months of Houston radio stations will put in you. Their sound was very much Friends of Dean Martinez, The Books,... Even down to some wailing lap steel. The lap steel player, the shy guy who also played the guitar with pretty gold plates that made all the psychy noodly noises, was my favorite. Sometimes he went into that dark spaghetti western sound that I find delicious. A more rocking song verged on White Rabbits. The band was playing for their record release, but this in-store version of a record release was an acoustic set with a limited number of band members. All in all, they were engaging, and reminded me how rejuvenating weirdness and art can be.

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