Over the last few years, I’ve suffered from a growing ambivalence to live Rock & Roll. It’s a surprising development of my thirties, and a moment that every music fan dreads – when that thrill is gone. This isn’t a latent conservationism bubbling from below. Age has taught me to demand more. The older I am, the more I want to be challenged, disturbed, twisted, and fucked with. I want music to be a mystery. I want to return changed. The sounds of my former lives remain exciting, as do their creators. I still faithfully trudge out to see The Ex, Shellac, MV & EE, anything Thalia Zedek touches, Yo la Tengo, and it breaks my heart to have missed those This Is Not This Heat shows at Cafe Oto last week. If the Gunn-Truscinski Duo ever return, I’ll be right up front. But as a rule, with the passing days, Rock & Roll (and its relations) is a less thrilling ride. New bands usually tread well established territory, and leave me in want. There is an exception – 75 Dollar Bill. In their short run, it feels like I’ve seen them 100 times. I’m never let down. Each show begins without prediction, and ends far inside the unknown. Continue reading “improbable currencies (on 75 dollar bill)”
improbable currencies (on 75 dollar bill)
The Hum Blog 