Triumph at the Aragon (MBV part 4)
Some of you are wondering what happened to MBV part 3. Well, wouldn't you know it, someone posted a review of the show on another website which just so happens to perfectly encapsulate my own thoughts on the show. Just for kicks, I'll reprint it here, followed by some other random thoughts I had about the show (thus, part 4):
They had told me that it would be the loudest concert I’d ever attended. They foretold of amazing sonic onslaughts. They said that it would be unlike any other show I’d seen.
They were right.
My Bloody Valentine came to the Aragon Ballroom in Chicago last Saturday, and delivered a concert at a level of intensity I don’t expect to ever see again.
After being unable to satisfactorily follow up the legendary Loveless album, the group dissolved in the mid-90s amid Kevin Shields’ legendary perfectionism. Since then, lead singer Bilinda Butcher became a housewife, bass-playin’ Debbie Googe joined Snowpony and drove a cab, Colm O’Ciosoig played drums with Hope Sandoval, and Kevin Shields popped his head up only occasionally.
Shields produced a few songs on Primal Scream’s XTRMNTR and toured with the Scream when they came to North America. I had thought that was the closest I’d ever get to seeing My Bloody Valentine. Imagine how thrilled I was to hear that I’d get the chance to see them...and in Chicago! I had always regretted missing them the last time they came around, sixteen years ago.
Needless to say, I had high expectations. And each one was exceeded at the Aragon.
I’m happy to report that time has not compromised My Bloody Valentine’s marauding sounds one iota; it’s amazing to realize that for all the ungodly noise and sheets of sound, that it was only four people making all those sounds. Drums came at you like gunshots; snares pierced like buckshot through sheet-metal. The guitars sounded like baying hounds. Somehow, Kevin Shields is able to reproduce onstage all of the mysterious guitar sounds that he achieved in the studio.
And throughout, Shields and Bilinda Butcher stood nearly motionless on either side of the stage, peacefully blowing our minds with extreme sonic violence. Only Debbie Googe and baby-faced Colm O’Ciosoig looked like they were rocking; Kevin and Bilinda may as well have been reciting poems by Burns to a coffeehouse audience for all the excitement they outwardly showed. When they weren’t looking at the audience, they did indeed gaze down at their shoes. But they were smiling when they did it, probably just as thrilled as we were that they were there. The strobe lights deliberately obscured the band, intense and unrelenting, like the music.
They opened with “I Only Said”, and everyone immediately realized that this was going to be the loudest show we’d ever attended. I brought quality ear plugs, but even through them, I knew that only a small piece of foam was saving me from hearing damage. For four songs, I braved the full onslaught without the earplugs, and was shocked by the volume.
The crowning set piece was the stunning “You Made Me Realise.” For twenty-six minutes, they unleashed what’s known as The Holocaust upon the audience. In the studio version, they let a chord hang for about a minute; live, that chord is replaced with intense, unrelenting noise. Before the song started, I made a deal with the devil and decided to go this song without earplugs, fully aware that it would be long. For the duration of the song, I looked at the crowd. Many knew what to expect. There were people who chose to be taken by the moment, raising their hands heavenward. Some raised their fists to the sky, face scrunched up, just taking in the Noise. Others were peaceful, absorbing the scathing, undulating, phase-shifting distortion. About fifteen minutes in, I realized that this is what it must sound like being inside a jet engine running at full-roar. It was a noise so intense you felt it with your entire body. I honestly wondered if I would be able to leave the Aragon with hearing intact, but knew that if it had to be lost, a moment as unreal as “You Made Me Realise” would be one for the books.
The concert was an absolutely gargantuan, an unbelievable show. My wife gave the tickets to me as an early Christmas gift, and unfortunately had to pay triple face value. Ladies and gentlemen, I assure you we got every penny’s worth. I kept having to remind myself: against all odds, I am seeing My Bloody Valentine, something I never thought would ever happen.
They’re as amazing today as their legend suggests. It was an unmitigated triumph.
Although if you should ever find yourself at a My Bloody Valentine concert, you’d better bring your earplugs. I recommend Leight Sleepers, a fine brand that cuts the edge by 30 dBs or so. And be prepared for the most visceral show you’ve ever been to.
Set List:
1) I Only Said
2) When You Sleep
3) You Never Should
4) You're Still In a Dream
5) Cigarette In Your Bed
6) Come In Alone
7) Only Shallow
8) Thorn
9) Nothing Much To Lose
10) To Here Knows When
11) Slow
12) Soon
13) Feed Me With Your Kiss
14) You Made Me Realize
While I was there...
- The opening band Hopewell put on a good show; it was dark, mysterious, and made you want to hear more. The other guy who went with my wife and I said that one of the dudes of Hopewell was in Mercury Rev. Wherever he was from, they were really good. Definitely recommended.
- There was a security guard at the beginning of the show who hadn't been warned in advance about My Bloody Valentine's show; he didn't have any earplugs in. As soon as MBV started their first song, he put his fingers in his ears due to the pain, then covered his eyes because of the ultra-bright strobes, realized that his ears were in pain again, and couldn't figure out which to cover up, his eyes or his ears. Knucklehead. He came back two minutes later, trying to look like a badass, which was pretty tough to do after that display of cowardice to the mighty power of MBV.
- The swath of people-types was amazing. I actually saw one Bryan Ferry shirt in the crowd. You had tattoed alterna-types mixed in with yuppies, teenagers to sixty-year-olds, mountain-man beards, white-guy afros, shaved heads, and everything in between. My wife counted at least three pregnant ladies. And yes, both the Chicago Tribune's Greg Kot (loved it) and the Chicago Sun-Times' Jim DeRogatis (hated it) were there.
- I had a hunch that I might not have warned my wife about how unique of a show we were going to, so I sorta kinda gave her the gory details in the week before the show. She was none too pleased. And even though I warned her about the extreme volume, even she exclaimed at the start, "God, that's LOUD!!" She didn't think that the earplugs we'd bought were doing anything. Well, even though they cut the volume by 30dB or so, it's all relative when you're dealing with volumes of around 120 dB.
- It was hot in there; quite hot.
- My wife, who I thought would hate it, said that it was actually better than she thought it would be. She actually liked the parts of the concert that weren't pure noise, but thought that the strobe lights were a bit much.
- After the 26-minute sonic Holocaust at the end of the show, I thought for sure she'd either a) bolt halfway through it, or b) divorce me. I asked her plaintively after all was said and done, "Are we still married?" She scowled at me, but then said yes, she wasn't going to divorce me over that, thank God.
