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The Trash Can Sinatras at the Knitting Factory, photo yanked from this fine website (thanks jdimaria!)
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So I got in Ben's car early Saturday morning, and we made our pilgrimage from Boston to New York City, to see the Trash Can Sinatras play a gig at The Knitting Factory that night. Last time we saw them, it was at the 9:30 Club in D.C., years--and yet only one album--ago. We met up with Kevin in Queens, and killed a couple of hours watching "Tenacious D" and somewhat prepping Karen, his sister, for her first TCS show. She was ready for the hypothetical post-performance Q&A session, where she would ask the Sinatras the meaning of that line from the first song on their first album ("Obscurity Knocks" from "Cake"): "oh, I like your poetry, but I hate your poems." What the hell did that mean, anyway?
Trash Can Sinatras were a huge part of our late-high-school and even early-college years, as Ben, Kevin, and I were rabid fans of the brilliant "Cake" and the equally impressive follow-up, "I've Seen Everything". Besides producing just about the best melodies we had ever heard, we rejoiced at every twisted cliché we could decipher from their thick Scottish-accented lyrics. They were our Van Halen, I guess.
Then the Trash Can Sinatras released "Happy Pocket" in 1996, which was big news in our little worlds. On it were great numbers such as "Twisted and Bent," "The Therapist," "How Can I Apply?" and "The Main Attraction." There were also a couple of slow stinkers on the album. Still, though, it's the Trash Can Sinatras, you know?! You probably don't.
In the four years since the release of "Happy Pocket", not much has been going on in the TCS world. One only needs to pop in on any of the dozen web sites devoted to the band to see that the fan base is extremely obsessive over and protective of the lads from Kilmarnock, yet disappointed at the dearth of new material. Only now, in the week since the performance, many on-line Trash Can fans are shouting their disappointment with the new material.
The Knitting Factory is small, cramped; smoky, but nobody's smoking. Barcelona, the opening band, is--like Kevin, Karen, Ben, and myself--from the D.C. area. Whoo! And they're adequate; highly proficient at making music using musical instruments, and projecting that sound through various forms of amplification, so as to more readily reverberate within the aural cavities of audience members. Put it this way: when the opening band keeps referencing the main act, it's a sure bet that everyone's just biding their time.
Frank, John, Stephen, Paul, Grant and Stevie came out on stage to wild applause. The Trash Can Sinatras opened with that "Sleeping Policeman" song I hate from "Happy Pocket"--the one that sounds like an old sea shanty. But it sounded good, because it was TCS. They followed that up with a new song. Lord knows what that one was. It was very slow, very minor, and probably the kind of song that would be cool in a haunting kind of way on about the 10th listen. The audience smiled and listened patiently. Then the Sinatras broke into another upbeat, older song, and we all went mental. Then a new one. And on and on.
It was a bipolar night, to say the least. The Trash Can Sinatras are amazing live. They improve on all the songs you thought were perfect, with a tremendous amount of energy and innovation. They did terrific versions of "Only Tongue Can Tell," "Easy Read," "I'm Immortal," "Hayfever," ""I've Seen Everything"," "Send For Henny," "The Main Attraction," "How Can I Apply?" and "The Safecracker." They also did about eight or nine shitty new numbers.
It's got to be hard to tour with new material when your old stuff is so beloved. But it's downright horrible when each of your new songs sound exactly like the same slow depressing ditty you played two songs ago. I've never seen a crowd so excited and overcome (in a Beatlemania kind of way) one minute, and so sedate the next. The playlist literally shifted every song from brilliant to sucky.
Then there was the always-absurd moment for the encore, when they returned to play one oldie to thunderous applause, and then two new downers. They left again. We clapped for another ten minutes, because the house lights were still off. Second encore? Good--they could end on "Obscurity Knocks" and "Twisted and Bent." No. House lights came on. Show's over.
Was it a good show? Hearing them play the favorites was wonderful. Hearing their new musical direction was very uninspiring. I'll buy the new album, if it's ever released domestically, but I don't see myself getting too into it.
Driving back to Boston at 5:00 the next morning, I was thinking about the Trash Can Sinatras now, and how I still love the poetry, but I hate the poems.
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