"Hey, pardon me, I'm giving you the west side story" - T.I., King Back
The Futureheads with French Kicks @ The Music Box
As the NBA Finals came to a close tonight, the World Champion Miami Heat were played out by Tom Petty. This is a kinder & gentler NBA where, despite Mark Cuban's manic mood swings, the players and coaches ended the season talking about love and faith and family and togetherness. I'm not sure I could stomach seeing Alonzo Mourning and Shaquille O'Neal clasping hands and singing Kumbayah but this is a basketball league your (white) grandmother could love. We've got David Hasselhoff in the stands and some classic rock guitar strumming during the commercials.
If it were my NBA, though, Flash and the gang would've rode out to The Futureheads. Frenetic guitar riffs and unpredictable compositions kept together by the long-worked at harmony of a band of young men. Brothers either by blood or choice. If we're going to forego the more natural rhythms of hip-hop and dance as the soundtrack to the Association then we, at least, need to rock out appropriately. As The Futureheads, showcased last night at the Henry Fonda, their music is about spirit, energy, us and them.
For all the pace and aggression in the way they play their songs, the band is...warm. They engage their audience as friends. While Barry Hyde is the lead singer, Ross is the master of ceremonies. They would probably never say this but it seems obvious to me that he is the leader of the group. He greets us. Thanks us for being there. Encourages us to sing and clap along because Jaff would really appreciate it. He lets us know it is alright to let go. It's okay. They may have brought us just to the edge of chaos with Hounds of Love and He Knows and Back to the Sea but The Futureheads are in control. We're free to let go.
There are no solos in a Futureheads show. As discussed in URB's great piece on them this month, it is part of their manifesto. Despite Ross & Jaff's strong guitar chops and Barry's kinetic performance, they are always as one. Their hour and fifteen minute set was filled with all their best work but it felt too short. Much like these NBA Playoffs, I wasn't happy that it was over. I wanted to savor it all the more. No need to skip to the end.
That photo by Media Eater is just for Anna.
Over The Hedge
Don't tell my bosses I'm going to see a film not made by the mouse.
I'm finally officially going to be in my new place, y'all. My sister has painted the walls. Furniture has been attained. The movers have been booked. The DirecTV is almost in place. Home sweet home.