Wha? Heaven help me, I’m

Wha?

Heaven help me, I’m a stage pounder. I love to get there early and camp at the foot of the stage,
worshiping at the feet of my favorite musicians. Unfortunately tonight I camped a bit close to the
stage-left speakers. I feel the breeze rustling what’s left of my eardrums.

Everyone expects the opening band to suck. Okay, at least I do. Maybe that’s why it’s such a
pleasant surprise when they don’t. Ours hit
the stage looking very London Suede. Imagine my shock when the lead singer opened his mouth
and Jeff Buckley came ringing out. At first. Janie pointed out a succession of Thom Yorke and
Bono. To top it off, the poor guy looks like Perry Farrell. But Jimmy Gnecco can sing his little
leather-clad lungs out. Complimenting his soaring voice is a tight band including David Milone on
guitar, Anthony DeMarco on keyboards, Race playing a smashing bass, and the amazing Kirke
Jan on a drumkit that drove the band home. Ours’ only flaw is that they take themselves a bit too
seriously. Jimmy only smiles when he’s not burdened with a guitar–so he should chuck it more
often. Music is supposed to be fun. But overall a good band that’s going to be
great–soon. After the set I immediately bought their CD. I’ll listen to it when I can hear again.

After Ours, Powderfinger came out to
kick ass and take names. Australia’s number one band is obviously used to a larger venue and
more people, but they had fun nonetheless. Bernard seemed to get a kick out of all the screaming
in the audience. For all the screaming, the Portlanders were preternatuarally still. I was one of
about four people dancing. I’ve noticed that at a few concerts here in Portland–all voice and no
booty. Well, I’ve got booty, and I shook it. Things were going along swimmingly until about
four songs into the set, when suddenly things started sounding off. I didn’t think my hearing was
that damaged–and I was right. A closer listen revealed a bass that was almost a half-step down.
Ouch. Vocals and lead guitar were struggling to find notes, and the mood floundered. A few
songs later, Bernard wisely chatted with the audience while Collins got his damned guitar back
into focus. The band managed to recapture the audience most of the way, but there was no
raucous call for an encore at the end of the set. Make no mistake: Powderfinger is a fantastic
band–they just had a bit of sore luck tonight.

1 Responses to Wha? Heaven help me, I’m

  1. Anonymous says:

    u suck. jimmy doesnt look like perry farrell. none of ur entries make sense.