smoke machine

Last night, I went out. 

I know, it was totally crazy.  But I wasn't going anywhere new; the Werkraum Warteck, which houses Druckwerk, has a show space on the ground floor called Sudhaus, which basically means brew house.  They still make beer, I had some, it was light, of course, but pretty good.  The Sudhaus is a nice space for seeing music; in the back there's a balcony with a bar, foosball, and a few tables, then the main area has the stage and lots of standing room (grooving room ha ha).  I went to see a rock band called The Besnard Lakes.  Here's a representational video of them from the Jimmy Fallon show:

I had heard of them, I think, through the SXSW information mill last month.  I'm sure if I were to attend their show at the Independent, in SF, which will happen in a month or so, I'd be somewhere in the middle back, I'd barely be able to see, and I'd have drunk, oxygen-deprived girls fainting all around me (like at the St Vincent show I went to at the Great American Music Hall back in February).  Last night I started at the front of the crowd, right below the stage, with machine-fog and drums dominating the perspective.  The drummer had a righteous beard, which must have helped his sound.  After moving around a bit, I ended up by one of the walls, still close to the stage, but with the sound more diffuse; it was close enough to feel involved, and far enough away to preserve the mystique of the band members (too close, and they look too human).  I'm a firm believer in maintaining some distance from the music.  Ironic, no?  At any rate, the show was great.  Just the right kind of music to be hearing for the first time: loud and melodic. 

Riding home on my bike was nothing short of magnificent.  Cold night air, no cars, going as fast as possible.