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Independence Day Week -
Camping, Soap Box Derby, Deerhunter, Fiery Furnaces
July 2007

Degenerate EM had asked me out on a date Saturday to see music that passes for hip these days. And this is why I, the head music correspondent of Degenerate Press for 14 years, am officially resigning from that position - Deerhunter.
Note that it is not April 1.
Fuck it. I've seen some great shows and I've done my best to report on all of 'em with blunt honesty. But I'm getting too old for this shit, as they say. And so are you, most of my subscribers - jobs, babies, the burbs - you, like me, no longer rock and roll every night and party every day.

Deerhunter.

I have so little understanding of this music that I can't even make good jokes about it, much less an intelligent review. And I don't want to be some Jeff Clark-esque washed up crotchety jaded old critic passing judgment on that which I cannot comprehend. I'll stick to travel, movies, burlesque, society, and photography, but I'm passing the poison pen on to degenerate EM when it comes to music reviews.

Deerhunter. Fuck. I think I just solved the mystery behind why whales get lost and beach themselves. Kids these days. Get offa my lawn! Christ, how long does it take to tune up and do a sound check? Wait, this is the set?!? Eventually my tolerance was spent and I went outside to ogle women and had a fine time while Deerhunter continued through the rest of their racket.

But it was the Fiery Furnaces that we were really there to see, a female lead who sounds, and looks a bit, like Patti Smith. Her brother plays keyboards, backed by guitar, drums and percussion.

They made so many tune and tempo changes during each song so that it started to sound like Patti Smith fronting an out of control math rock band of circus musicians.

Christ. I wanted to continue my music reviews until Degenerate Press' 15th birthday, or next April Fool's, or at least my 40th birthday, but...

Deerhunter!

Fiery Furnaces got a little samey-same after a while. I get it - you can presto-change-o every 8 seconds!

It was kind of funny after the opposite end of the samey-same spectrum of Deerhunter - indiscernible echoing noise that barely varied from song to song.

I would've preferred finish my music reviewing career on a high note, stumbling onto something new and fantastic, or a reunion of one of my old faves, or at least raving about one of the few local acts currently in existence  that I actually like, but...

Deerhunter?

I gave up on the Fiery Furnaces after an hour or so and returned to the Earl's front patio to socialize and admire the female forms striding by. It was far more fun than struggling through the show in the back room.

My only fear about handing over the music department to EM is that she likes some really depressing music. I'm depressed enough, thank you very much, and prefer something... peppier. She likes fun music too but can enjoy what I consider to be interesting yet distinctly UNfun music.
Hell, she likes Morrissey...

And Deerhunter.

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