Epic Weekend, Part 1: Tegan and Sara and FUN at Edgefield

I am so lucky. My dad has always been a huge concert-goer, and because of that I tend to reap some pretty incredible benefits. One of them is that sometimes he buys extra tickets and I get to coast in on his metaphorical coattails and rock out. That will happen three times this magical, ear-rending, epic weekend. The first show was last night, where Tegan and Sara opened for Fun..

Now, I was excited for both bands at this show. When I walked in, Tegan and Sara were a band I knew about and liked, but didn't know well enough to remember many lyrics or be able to identify what album which song came off of, etc. So we were standing around on the lawn drinking alcoholic beverages and schmoozing with my aunt, who is just as much of a music fanatic as we are, when there they were. (Truth be told I was actually in line for the ATM when they physically came on, ugh, but I heard wonderful sounds coming from the stage and hurried back.)

After about half a song something magical happened that has happened to me before. I will have the incredible opportunity to attend a concert which features a band I like, and seeing them live transforms something in my brain. My synapses light up. Something clicks. Words and chords get branded into my neurons. And then I'm hooked. That is what happened with Tegan and Sara.

Needless to say, you should go listen to their newest album, Heartthrob, which I've been playing on loop all day. Their voices are very distinct, their harmonies and layering are great, and they're running heavy keyboard and a dance beat under several of their tracks. It's catchy as hell. Good luck getting it out of your head.

We were a little sad to see Tegan and Sara go, especially because we wanted an encore from them. But Fun. was the main event, and they definitely put on a good show. 

The first time I saw Fun. was when they were opening for Panic! at the Disco in what looked like an old warehouse in Seattle. Fun. hadn't hit the radio heavily yet and "Some Nights" was still largely an unknown (pushing up my invisible hipster glasses here). I distinctly remember laughing with my friend about the name - I mean come on, how many bands can you think of that use a single word, and an adjective at that, as their name? - and then being thoroughly put in my place by a ragtag bunch of talented people dressed like Hoods from the 1950s. I was never so happy to the put in my place, because honestly, Fun. is fun.

They're a little bit bigger now, if you hadn't noticed.

I mean, come on, you know you've made it big when you have a confetti blizzard and your backdrop plays live footage of your band like in a stadium show. At first I was a little offput by their stardom; they were hot shit and they knew it. But as the night went on, it was clear that they hadn't lost what had put me in my place that night in Seattle. They're talented, they're tight, they play well together, they banter a little but not too much, and they're obviously having the time of their lives. That, I think, earns them their name all over again.

Thanks for coming to Portland, everybody. I'll see you Saturday night on the lawn for Death Cab for Cutie.

The Decemberists

Live and in concert at McMenamins Edgefield in Troutdale, Oregon!

Oh my goodness gracious sakes alive.

(If the above did not convey shock and awe, please insert it here.)

Not to knock them. Not at all. But they were so much better in concert than I ever could have dreamed they would be. Singer and frontman Colin Meloy was spot-on, the whole band sounded tight, Peter Buck appeared to play for a song (who, they told us, was actually a sprite that lives in the Troutdale woods, appearing to perform with musicians when they play music of an appropriate bent: "that's how REM found him," Colin said), and Jenny Conlee played the whole show, despite her ongoing battle with breast cancer. The sound quality: excellent. The set: brilliant, pulled from every album, varied, and wonderful. The energy: perfect.

It was the kind of show that induces a blissed-out buzz, a buzz that only leaves you when you're utterly exhausted and then leaves you exhausted for the next whole day.

There were a few perks in particular to this show. One of them was one of the most powerful messages I have ever seen conveyed on a stage. In talking about how grateful they were that Jenny could be there to perform with them, not only did Colin lead the entire crowd in a little healing magic/positive thought - we all put our hands in the air, said "ooooOOOO, aaaAAAAA, KAZAM!" and she looked down at herself shocked as though we'd cured her; "that'll do it, right?" said Colin - but he went on to explain their merch campaign. They've designed shirts and buttons (not available online) that read "Team Jenny" printed along the side of an accordion: all the proceeds go to Susan G. Komen for the Cure. As though that wasn't poignant enough, Colin went on: "We're going to play a song for Jenny, now. It's called This is Why We Fight." I had to work hard not to burst into tears. For those of you who aren't complete Decemberists fanatics, the lyrics to This is Why We Fight's chorus go: "This is why/why we fight/why we lie awake,/ this is why/why we fight:/so when we die/we will die/with our arms unbound!/This is why/this is why we fight/come hell." It also has an incredibly powerful music video to go with it.

My personal favorite perk of the evening, however, was that they fearlessly played their longest tracks: as part of encore number one (of three!) they played most, if not all, of The Tain, an eighteen-minute track! And, to top it off, as their second to last song of the night, they played my personal and all-time favorite, The Mariner's Revenge Song. Yes, folks. I danced the interpretive whale dance to the best of my ability and screamed like a dying sailor being eaten by a whale. In public. In my defense the latter part was by instruction. The whole crowd screamed and oh, what a sound we made. The video of the entire song (NOT MY DANCE, thank heaven), is pending on the YouTube. Their last song of the night, one of their very finest, was June Hymn, and though the drunk in front of us kept screaming at the most inopportune times during it, it was a beautiful performance nonetheless.

It also turns out that not only are The Decemberists basically King and court of Portlandia, they are some of the most creative people I have ever had the fortune to stumble across. Check out their website, their collaboration with The Impossible Project, The Impossible Project's homepage, and the site for Colin and his wife, Carson Ellis', novel Wildwood for details.

The (excellent) Openers:
Okkervil River
Point Juncture, WA