A great New Orleans flavor!
I just came home from the Independent, which is a funny little club in the neighborhood that SF hipsters are shamelessly trying to rename NoPa (NOrth of the PAnhadle). “Western Addition” is apparently much too black. Anyways, I went to see John Darnielle, independent rock’s everyman, and it was a really excellent show.
He made me ponder the rarity of hearing lyrics at a rock show. Sometimes inaudible vocals are well and good (Brightblack Morning Light immediately comes to mind) and sometimes it’s a matter of poor acoustics, but I often get the impression that I can’t hear what performers are saying because they aren’t great performers. This dude knows how to play a show. He knows exactly when to sing loud, when to whisper, when to yell off-mic, and it’s fucking inspirational (So…many…similes….). And all I can think to do with all this inspiration is blog. Awesome show.
Two years after winning it, I finally replaced the chain and sprocket on my bicycle. A near death experience involving the disengagement of my transmission system on Valenica Street necessitated it. I would prefer to spend $60 on tacos, but this is for the best. Besides, there is something deeply satisfying about wearing out a piece of stainless steel under your own power over the course of several years. And although I am sad that I forgot keep my old wearied gear–it would have been great blog material–the thought of my bike dust scattered throughout San Francisco comforts me like a cup of black tea on a rainy day, mixed with milk and sugar. And look: The Mountain Goats have me talking in comparisons, which means it’s time for bed.