200506130725 At Gingko’s. My back is still seriously sore, but much better than Friday, when I could hardly walking. I took Stella for a middling-long walk yesterday, biked the bridges (Lake St. and Ford Parkway) and went to First Avenue for Spoon.

That was only the second time that I have ever gone to First Avenue. Years ago I went to Danceteria with Tomas. The place reminded me of the Red Carpet in St. Cloud of my college days. I don’t think that there were many people there as old as me. I am certainly old enough that I could be the parent of most people there. It was an “all ages show.” They were drinking something–I a guessing some sort of near beer.
Anyhow, I was interested, with The Current radio station as my tastemaker, if I would enjoy a really good band. Also, that show was so early was good.
I got there just so that I heard the warmup band. In my opinion, they didn’t do much. Toward the end of the set, the guitar player started to sort of cut loose, a bit, but then reined himself in to picking and strumming again.
I knew it was a bad sign when, at the end of their setup, a screen was lowered in front of the stage and a Pee Wee Herman video was shown, and it was way more interesting than the band. First Avenue has probably been showing Pee Wee videos between sets for forever.
Then it was Spoon’s turn. They did have a good, higher quality presence, But as far as the restraint, the lack of anything interesting happening in the music, they were about the same. must be some “anti” something. For a guitar lead, the lead guy, guitar and singer, would turn around and do some reverb stuff.
It occurred to me that I want some pop. Some melody, some fill, some motion, a gaddamn bridge for crissake. But no. I am not asking for Barry Manilow/Neil Diamond/The Carpenters/Abba, but well, maybe I am a little. Couldn’t hurt.
Bob Dylan is coming here on July 12. there was an article about him in the paper. About how weirder he’s getting. And if I have been going to see live bands play since 1971–which is pretty much what I figure–high dance sort of thing–and I feel blah about what’s going on, imagine what Bob must feel.
Yesterday, taking Stella for the longish walk, there were cumulus clouds in the sky, and the dapplings of sun and tree shade on the sidewalks, lawns, and streets. Very much reminded me of being a kid and walking down Broad Street to Tourdelette Park’s wading pool. Only then I didn’t have a dog, was probably barefoot.