Category: Music

This was the first show I’ve been to at The Blind Pig that sold out. Considering the way Protomartyr has been steadily gaining popularity, fact that The Blind Pig is not a particularly large venue, and that this was on Friday night, this does not come as a surprise. But still, it was a great contrast to the show I went to only the night before. We got there at 9:20, 40 minutes before the first of the opening acts went on, but still, all the seats were taken and people had begun to congregate in the middle. The crowd was predominantly male and many were older than the typical college student–clearly this show had drawn individuals from outside the Ann Arbor bubble. But more on the crowd later.

Despite the crowd, my friend and I managed to squeeze to the front once the first opening band, Deadbeat Beat, got on stage. Deadbeat Beat, as their name might suggest, played songs with a strong, steady beat. They’ve got the kind of sound that just makes you want to groove in your own little bubble, to dance it out. They also have a lovably bumbling stage presence. However, outside of the occasional head-nod here and there and some respectful clapping, the crowd simply did not seem to feel it. Like I said, this was dancing music–loud, rocking and throbbing dancing music, but still only dancing music–and this was a crowd here to see Protomartyr, rising rock gods, not a jamming little band from Detroit. So the crowd listened, as more and more individuals poured in, as each passing second the space grew a little more cramped, tightening and constricting and packing the people, and they did not do much more than listen. By the beginning of the second opening act, Rebel Kind, most of the crowd had arrived.

Rebel Kind, a three-piece all-female ensemble, started softly, with Autumn playing the acoustic guitar and singing a song she wrote for a friend who was in NY, all alone on stage. After, the rest of the band joined here, but for that second song, they all played on a different instrument than their usual–it’s good to see bands comfortable with switching it up and musicians who are capable of playing more than one instrument–it suggests that the performers are well-rounded and talented. Much like Deadbeat Beat, Rebel Kind has a softer sound with a steady beat, and their music makes you want to shake and move. Still, the crowd was stubborn and stiff and although a few more had begun to loosen their necks and head-nod, many more stood and stared. While this problem is not idiosyncratic to this particular crowd and, in fact, is a problem with most crowds, the bigger the name of the main act, the worse the problem is. For many concert-goers, there exists no one but the biggest name on the ticket, and opening acts are hurdles to be overcome to reach the pinnacle of their nights. Only the most engaging and capable opening acts seem to be able to get through to these dead-eyed, closed-minded listeners–unfortunately, though their sound was solid and their performance good, neither Deadbeat Beat nor Rebel Kind accomplished this. Part of the blame can be pointed towards the difference between their sounds and Protomartyr’s, but part of the blame must be put on the lack of fight these two bands had–they performed fine, but they need to learn how to get the crowd on their side.

And then, finally, Protomartyr performed.

By this time, those in the front had been pushed by the eager crowd right against the stage and The Bling Pig was filled to capacity. And once on stage, Protomartyr didn’t waste any time, they jumped right in to it and started shredding on their instruments. It was loud. It was violent. It was rock. Everything was going fine.

But as I’ve already discussed, this was a crowd that didn’t know what to do with itself–and oh, it was a beast of crowd. Throughout the opening acts, they had been like dead men at the height of rigor mortis, and while I expected them to loosen up a little, I wasn’t entirely sure they wouldn’t just stand in holy terror, in reverence. And for the first song, they did little more than that–sure almost all of them began to bob their heads or tap their feet or even move their bodies a little, but there wasn’t any rollicking movement. But, something reached a breaking point in the second song, something snapped in this crowd, this packed, little crowd.

Directly behind the front row of people, a mass, a group, a clusterfuck of individuals began to run around–well, more aptly put, to run into people. They threw themselves at both each other and those on the outskirts of their bustling body. The very front-line of individuals–those who moments ago had been standing looking up at Protomartyr as if they were their martyrs, as if they were basking in their light, their sound–were suddenly like a rowboat entering stormy waters: they were thrown this way and that way, they were lurching forwards, onto the stage, onto the speakers, as the bodies behind them took turns slamming into and squeezing between them, they were battered, they were broken, they were profoundly annoyed. In between songs, this wretched running would cease, only to return with greater power and greater ferocity at the next crescendo. For certain unfortunate individuals, it was a long set.

I was in the front, but on the edge, against the wall, and I was mostly protected from this insanity. I cannot say whether those people were wrong to enjoy the music in that way, but I can say that the difference between these two types of people ruined the night for some. And to be honest, I’m not sure Protomartyr is the kind of music that this thrashing is meant for–to me, their sound lends itself to a more careful listening.

And let’s go back to Protomartyr. Now, if you don’t know, Protomartyr is the baby of Joe Casey, an old man by rock standards. As photographed above, he dresses like what he is: a middle-aged man. I appreciate this personal style and I think if he attempted to dress like one of his band-mates, it would seem phony. He does not have the energy of younger performer, as is clear from the way he stood at his microphone throughout the whole concert without prancing, without riling the crowd (of course, he didn’t need to do that). While his singing did not seem to suffer, he was also clearly inebriated. To be honest, while I can appreciate the music, Protomartyr’s performance had we-are-too-good-to-be-here written all over it. As is tradition, when they “finished” their set, they ran back stage, only to emerge a minute later for an encore. They played two more songs and in typical rockstar-snob fashion, they disappeared backstage for good. They didn’t stick around to greet fans or sign autographs or even to reap praise from their devoted followers–no, they said goodnight and left.

When shAAka took the stage, there was no one in the pit and nearly no one at The Blind Pig. It was 9:30 on a Thursday night and while the bar next door had a line snaking down two flights of stairs, The Blind Pig was currently deserted. Still, shAAka started with an explosion not a whimper. They are a local band and entirely UM students. However, unlike many student-bands, they’ve moved past the hey-man-let’s-get-together-and-jam stage and have started to come into their own sound. While in terms of originality they still have room to grow, they certainly have the rock part down and they can hit it hard. But they aren’t entirely a bang-as-loud-and-fast-as-we-can kind-of band–they have their softer, mellower moments and they can sweet-talk you as quickly and deftly as they can blare their guitars. Not too long after they took the stage, more patrons poured in and were drawn towards the stage. By the time shAAka’s set had ended, The Blind Pig had several dozen patrons.

This being the night that it was (Thirsty Thursday, that is), most of that night’s crowd were sporting M’s on the backs of their hands and were here to enjoy some music. While the back part of The Blind Pig had began to somewhat fill, the bar part was devoid of anyone–except for, perhaps, the occasional individual getting a pop.

We didn’t have to wait too long for amateur eyes to get on stage. Despite being the “headlining” act, they played second and the night had three more bands left. Now, listen, there was still not much of a crowd for reasons already stated–maybe 40 people, if I’m being generous–and it can be hard to play to a crowd so small, especially when you’re not a big name that everyone knows and loves, but instead just some band from Saline, Michigan–by all means, amateur eyes should have put on decent show, but not much more.

Instead, they killed it.

Their founder and vocalist is John Pederson, a former Michigan student and someone who clearly still has friends and connections in Ann Arbor. I was pleasantly surprised to find that within this meager crowd were individuals who obviously adored the amateur eyes and could sing along to every song. But even without them amateur eyes still would have put on an amazing show. For starters, John Pederson is clearly a guy currently doing what he loves and his gratitude for the audience simply being there and letting him continue to follow his passions was palpable. But it was more than even that–Pederson doesn’t just get into performing, he gets into the music, the crowd, the energy and he increases it exponentially. Many more times than I could count, Pederson jumped off the stage to hug someone or dance around or to hold his microphone out for someone to sing along. At one point, he managed to successfully crowd-surf, which is quite feat when an audience is that scattered and unpacked. And he wasn’t just everywhere off-stage; he was everywhere on-stage too. He was possibly the bounciest musician I’ve ever seen, always jumping and hopping from place to place. He’d twirl around with his microphone or sneak up behind the guitar player and hold the strings as the player strummed. He was burning like a sun in the furnace of a supernova.

Yet the show never lost its sense of intimacy. Part of this can be attributed to amateur eyes’ music, a style they call “honest rock.” With lyrics like “You’re going to find something you don’t like about yourself in me” and song titles like “how to convince yourself that you’re happier alone,” the music itself conveys a sense of opening up to the world and exposing your tender insides. Of course, also, like I already stated, the Pederson’s earnestness and desire to be one with the crowd kept the show feeling like we were all in this together. There were also moment like the one pictured above, where it was just Pederson playing an acoustic guitar and singing a new song that he wrote “after someone I cared about hurt me.” When the show finally, sadly ended, Pederson jumped off stage and to a stack of CDs against the wall, which he chucked into the crowd and then passed out each one individually to everyone there because, as he said, “nobody buys these anyway.”

If you ever have an opportunity to go to an amateur eyes show, take it. Even if you’re not big on their music (but how could you not be), you won’t regret it.

Next up was another student band, a rock-duo called Dead Legs. Their loudness and the way they go all in on their instruments made them a bit of a shock after amateur eyes. I give them credit for accomplishing the sound that I presume they are going for, but that isn’t the sound for me. I could appreciate their music as something to head-nod to, but partially because we weren’t feeling it and mostly because we had 9 AMs, we decided to leave towards the end of their set. Unfortunately, we missed Fallow Land and Air is the Arche, the latter of which we were really looking forward to. Overall, a really great show despite the lack of crowd.

When’s the last time you listened to something mind-blowing? And I mean, really mind-blowing, not just wow-these-warm-chocolate-chip-cookies-are-pretty-amazing. I’m talking about the kind mind-blowing that haunts, that buzzes in and out and in and out of your head again and again and again until suddenly daylight is creeping in through your blinds and you realize you just spent the entire night staring up at the dark with why does it shake the body the body the body echoing in that cavern you call a cranium.

Okay. Maybe not that bad.

But still, Protomartyr is something special. They are probably best described as post-rock, but even that label hardly fits. Listening to them is an experience involving a semi-ominous voice rising above your standard rock instruments to tell you things that you’ve probably thought, but not quite in this way. They aren’t the easiest to describe, honestly.

They will be joined by Rebel Kind and Deadbeat Beat.

When: Friday, January 29th. Doors open at 9:00pm.

Where: The Blind Pig

Cost: $12 adv./$14 day of