Blahgorrhea

Tonight I saw The Constantines play at the Great American Music Hall. The band consists of Screech playing keyboards, his older brother singing in the style of Tom Waits, Ricky Schroeder’s way geekier cousin playing guitar, a one-note bassist and a drummer. Their music was really pretty good, and I would have fully enjoyed the show had it not been quite so obvious that they had taken correspondence classes from the publishers of the “… for Dummies” series of books — classes such as “An Uplifted Fist: Rock Power to the People,” “Guitar for Rockers: Move the Neck, Make the Sound,” and “Bass Note: Fast and Above Your Head.” It is not so egregious that they were doing these things on stage, but just that they looked uncomfortable doing them. Be natural, guys, and enjoy playing your music.

[…] I had almost forgotten how much fun a good show can be. The Constantines were pretty good, I quite liked most of their songs (although Sean pointed out that one of their song sounded a bit too much like Bush for his taste) and I’m going to have to get the album at some point. There was an awful lot of posturing on stage that I alternately found annoying and a little charming. I suspect that if I’m ever in a rock band, I will also rock out on stage. A lot. And I will love it. And perhaps disaffected pseudo-hipsters like myself will stand in the crowd and and find me lacking. And maybe I won’t care, because if I am ever in a rock band, I can guarantee to you that I will be a rock god, and I will be loving every minute of being on stage. […]