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A Lovin’ Spoonfu

 

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Spoon @ the Commodore Ballroom, 4

September 7, 2007

 

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Luke Simcoe, Arts & Entertainment Editor

   

“My mathematical mind can see the
breaks,

So I’m gonna stop riding the brakes...
Instead I’m gonna see your stakes”

I’ve heard that prowess in mathematics
and musical ability are connected. If
this is indeed the case, I’ve got dollars
to donuts that Britt Daniel, Spoon’s
front man and principal songwriter, got
pretty good grades in math during his
high school days in Austin, Texas.
Since the opening chords of
“Everything Hits at Once” —the first
track on 2001’s Girls Can Tell, a record
that represented a huge leap forward for
Spoon— Daniel literally stopped riding
the brakes, and charged full speed ahead
into a series of near-perfect rock records
laced with a minimalist aesthetic and
just the right amount of pop panache.
All of this was on display on Friday,
September 7 at a sold-out Commodore
Ballroom. The band’s set drew evenly
from their last four records, and not
surprisingly, songs from Ga Ga Ga Ga
Ga meshed perfectly with the band’s

older tracks. After all, that’s what Spoon
does. Their live shows are not unlike
their records: solid from front to back,
with a nary a low point to be found.
Although he didn’t treat us to any
of his infamous extended floor jams,
Daniel himself was particularly on-
point—right down to the way he
betrayed his Southern roots by holding

his guitar like Johnny Cash. Britt has
a reputation for being a bit “prickly,”
but every time I’ve seen Spoon live
he’s seemed to be genuinely enjoy
interacting with the audience. He joked
with a contingent of fans who kept
shouting “Sound Exchange!” as a way
of obtusely requesting “Anything You
Want,” and he invited a newlywed

 

couple, still in their wedding clothes,
onstage to “formalize the marriage.”
As I mentioned, it’s pretty difficult
to pick a highlight from the setlist, but
there were a few moments that were a
touch better than the rest. “I Turn My
Camera On” reminded me that there are
tires underneath the dance floor at the
Commodore, and a subdued version of
the aforementioned “Everything Hits at
Once,” during the encore lacked some
of the punch that it has on record, but
was possessed of all the more gravitas
as a result. I was also pretty stoked on
a rousing version of “The Underdog,”
which featured the horn section from
Joe Black Louis —the lackluster
opening band that had a singer that
sounded like Eddie Murphy when he
makes fun of James Brown in Delirious.
I was also pleasantly surprised
that the band chose not to play “The
Way We Get By.” With such a stacked
catalog, it’s about time that Spoon
realized they don’t need to use their
brief flirtation with the mainstream as a
crutch.

 

“Art School” by The Jam

Song of the Week

Patrick Mackenzie, OP Contributor

Eee being written 30 years
ago (for Christ’s sake!), “Art School”
by The Jam, is a blistering example of
guitar oriented pop and/or rock.

In their heyday, The Jam were given
the label “mod,” an overarching term
involving both music and fashion,
that characterized a strain of English
pop prevalent in the 60s and 70s (The
Who, The Kinks, The Beatles, etc.)
directly influenced by black R&B
artists from the U.S. This influence can
certainly be heard in their music, but
with their tendency to write fast, catchy
tunes that clock in at under two and a
half minuets, there is a definite punk
sensibility found in The Jam’s music
(Editor’s note: For an excellent example
of Mod culture, check out The Who’s
1979 film Quadrophenia).

“Art School” — off The Jam’s
1977 debut Jn The City—is, at two
minutes and two seconds, essentially
a punk song. Fast and rough with
just guitar, bass and drums, it can
certainly be counted as such. At the
same time however, there is a certain
sophistication in the playing creeping

around the edges that makes one realize
that this ain’t no Sex Pistols tune.
Providing more of a trebly texture, the
guitar takes a back seat to the rhythm
section where drums and bass are
allowed to carry the song through its
fast and easily danceable shuffle.

Even though “Art School” is
roughhewn in style and production,
guitarist and songwriter Paul Weller,
bassist Bruce Foxton and drummer
Rick Buckler, while no more creative or
artistically committed, show a musical
acumen that far surpasses that of their
peers.

As for the lyrics, they are filled with
the sort of self-righteous indignation
that characterizes Paul Weller’s
songwriting during his time with The
Jam: “And never worry if people laugh
at you/The fools only laugh ’cos they
envy you.” But mostly, “Art School”
sounds like a call to action directed at
the youth of England in 1977. However,
that same revolutionary fervor can
resonate just as strongly today with
anyone who is tired of mainstream
culture. As Weller sings in a pronounced
English accent: “Who makes the rules

that make people select/Who is to judge
that your ways are correct/The media
as watchdog is absolute shit/The TV
telling you what to think.”

In keeping with the punk rock ethos
of independence— n thought as well as
artistic expression—art school, rather
than a location, becomes for Weller
both a state of mind and a metaphor

   

for individuality. When he sings, “do
whatcha want ‘cos this is the new art
school,” he seems to be excising art
school from its local geography and
placing it in the consciousness of the
listener where he or she can use it for
inspiration for individual creativity.

Pretty good for a two-minute pop
and/or rock (or is that punk?) song.

i pre

    

PHOTOS BY LUKE SIMCOE