The Faint - Live in Los Angeles

Few things can inspire insipid, shoe shuffling emo kids to remember there's a reason to live, to get off your asses and dance, the way the Faint can. Their shows are destined to become legendary; that rare combination of energy, skill, charisma and great music that makes a concert larger than the sum of its parts.

It's taken the band three long years to come full circle from Wet From Birth. There have been huge changes in the world of the Faint (One friend of mine was sure they'd broken up. I'd love to know where that rumor started.) and I was scared that maybe some of the magic from their previous shows would be lost.

I took my girlfriend with me, who was a fan but had not seen them live. I'd almost over-hyped them to her, and as we got through the doors of the Henry Fonda theater, I got this horrible idea in my head that they'd suck and she'd blame me somehow.

It was a sold out show (both Thursday and Friday sold out) and after an eclectic if ultimately boring set from Jaguar Love, Shy Child came on. I realize a lot of people really like Shy Child, but I just can't get into them. They remind me of a new wave version of Rage Against the Machine. That previous sentence should never have to be written.

All thoughts of a let down show were quickly wiped away. The Faint came blasting onto the stage and let it rip with "Agenda Suicide", Take Me To the Hospital" and "Dropkick the Punks". All of the pictures on this post, I shot during those tracks.

After that, they brought (in no order)"Worked Up So Sexual", "Your Retro Career Melted", "The Conductor", "Desperate Guys", "Birth", "I Disappear", and from the new album Fasciinatiion, "Get Seduced", "Machine in the Ghost", "Forever Growing Centipedes", and "Mirror Error".

They came back for an encore to a shouting and stomping crowd that was shaking the building, and did "Glass Danse", "Paranoia Attack", and "the Geeks Were Right".

Of course, just listing the tracks doesn't do justice to a Faint show. The energy there is unbelievable. It's almost surreal. The band gives off this huge aura of power and the crowd seems to suck it all up, amplify it, then spit it back out. Combine that with a fantastic light show and video projection and you get something very rare.

Lead singer, Todd Fink, has taken on a mad scientist persona for this tour, donning a lab coat and goggles. More than ever he captures the kinetic energy of the Faint, focusing his bandmates talents and shooting it out at the audience like some kind mind control beam that has only one setting: "Dance!".

At one point I was on the bouncing, gyrating, undulating dance floor and a girl leapt onto my back, shouted "Oh my god! The Faint!", then proceeded to sing along with me to "Birth". She squeezed my hand momentarily before disappearing into the biomass of the crowd again.

I can't recommend them enough. If you have the power, see the Faint. It'll change your life.

I was lucky enough to score a photo pass for the show, hence the better-than-point-and-shoot pics. I'll be doing an album review later this week separately.

Kanye West at Bonnaroo

I was reading this article about Kanye West's performance at Bonnaroo and the controversy surrounding it, as well as the video from the recent Queens of the Stone Age show. The comments got me thinking about shows I'd seen over the years and what made them special.

Kings of spectacle, U2, made a huge impression on me at the ZooTV tour (where they played with the Sugarcubes and Public Enemy), with their monolithic screens and totally over-the-top show.

Nine Inch Nails wowed me with their giant screen that dropped in front of the Downward Spiral tour crowds.

And I love the light show that She Wants Revenge had going on their last tour.

But those things didn't make them good shows. They might have made them 'better' shows. What really makes a memorable show for me though is feeling like I've connected with the artist. Music, for many people, myself included, is very personal. There are songs out there that will literally bring me to tears, every time I hear them. There are tracks out there for every bit of the emotional spectrum. We memorize these songs, make mixtapes, dedicate them to others. They become the soundtracks to our lives.

I've never had someone come up to me and say "Oh my god, that is my favorite song! It changed my life! I love it!" I can imagine though, that must be really powerful every time you hear it. There's a responsibility that comes with that power. Artists need to remember that when they play to a crowd, the crowd knows them through their music (and in some unfortunate cases, the tabloids) and is communing with them through their songs.

I'm sure when millions of young girls screamed relentlessly at the Beatles, John, Paul, George and Ringo felt that power. The ability to carve a memory into someones life permanently, either a shining wonderful one, or a painful scar is something most of us only experience in a one-on-one basis.

I mentioned in a post last month that my worst concert ever was the Circle Jerks. Why? Because the lead singer stopped playing and yelled at the audience and made it seem like he was doing us a favor by being there.

One of my favorite show memories is hanging out with Radio 4 in New Orleans after they'd played. We all went drinking together till about 4 am. Or the time I ran into the Faint the morning after they'd played in Houston. We were staying at the same hotel and all had that same haggard look on us. We joked and laughed and took pictures.

All of those memories had nothing to do with the bands' performances or the lighting or tricks. They had to do with an individual connecting with someone else. I harbored all of these memories and emotions in connection with these bands' songs and now I was able to look these people in the eye and say 'I get it,' and 'You're being heard'. That's really important. Maybe even imperative. It didn't even have to be so direct. It could have just been singing along with them at the show, being able to hook into a real human, instead of an mp3.

Whether or not Kanye's stage production glowed in the dark at 5am is irrelevant. What is relevant is that he didn't address his fans or take just a moment to connect with them as one human being to another. If he'd come onstage on time, I can understand that some artists want to maintain a certain mystique. Fine. But if you come on two hours late, you had better do something to heal that wound. All those Kanye fans out there won't remember that the sound was good or that the lighting effects were catchy. They'll remember that they waited till dawn to connect with Kanye, and he didn't acknowledge them. That's got to hurt.

Blank Concert

So, time a for a little audience feedback. Hearing that I'd missed Hall and Oates playing at the Troubador got me thinking about good shows I'd seen. Quick Poll: First concert, last concert, best concert, worst concert.

I'll start.

First Concert: Huey Lewis and the News, 1984 (Bakersfield)
Last Concert: Lemon Sun, 2008 (Las Vegas)
Best Concert: David Bowie, 2004 (New Orleans)
Worst Concert: The Circle Jerks, 1995 (Minneapolis)

As a side note, the reason Circle Jerks get 'worst': Kieth Morris stopping the show multiple times to complain that the crowd was being too rowdy. Too Rowdy? TOO ROWDY?? What kind of F'ing rock and roll is that?

Anyway, share your list and your stories.