Fuck yeah, I went to this show simply to see the kids, who were held to six or so songs, three of which I missed. Jack Daniels is an evil man, sponsoring bohemia then cutting it short. I've seen Spoon multiple times, therefore smoking and drinking in the back of the club was necessary to avoid the throng of salivating middle-ager's looking to grasp onto something remotely hip. I swear I saw a toothless hick lip-syncing "I Turn My Camera On," (see car commercials do get you chicks). Not to fault Spoon, but it's beginning to feel like Brit Daniel's approach is purely antiseptic. Someone even asked (jokingly of course) from outside if Spoon were playing, or if it was a cd of Spoon. He's certainly amassed at least a greatest hits disc worth of skeletal indie-rock and tricky soft-punk, lately though the auto-pilot has switched to full-on bore. Could he really have peaked with Girls Can Tell? He does write music for soundtracks now.
I poked in for a few of my favorites and could see that at least Mr. Daniel was against the war; writhing on the floor, scraping the edges of his guitar for any grisly atonal scrawl he could muster out of songs now quite benign. I love the guy, broke bread with him, babysat his children, and once even compared him to Prince (can I take that back?) His band however, is for the war, for standing still. They kinda smiled, complacent and happy to be making their nightly stipend for playing along with such easy swill. Perhaps I'm just a bit cynical towards show with seemingly no purpose. Spoon come off as a band that's making music that's as safe as their name; nothing sharp or harmful in any move they make. The newer tracks blended into the background, the old favorites were fawned over, and everyone went home happy and drunk for free. But did you remember it the next day?
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Spork! Spork! Spork!
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