There's something wrong with me. You figure I'd get it right one of these days.

Show time: 7:30.
Driving Time: roughly 4 hours.
Time of Departure: 2:30.
Time of Arrival: 7:55.
Band missed: Beta Band.
Me: Dumb-ass.

I'm going to blame this whole concert snafu on the town of Arbuckle or College City – I'm not sure which one I was in, but I guarantee that I'm never going back there. My windshield wipers were shot, so we felt the need to pull over and alleviate the situation because of the random scattered showers over I-5.

Pete at Napa Autoparts had a kind, crisp timbre to his voice and found the blades in no time at all. He was very helpful. The wiper blades didn't fit on my car so, naturally, they sent grandpa out to help. He was very helpful; so helpful that he dismantled the whole wiper rig and brought it inside. They were all very helpful, repeatedly going into the back of the store to retrieve one after another faulty wiper blade. After a very helpful hour of waving my dick in the wind we were back on the road. What can I say? They meant well and I'll never set foot in there again.

We went as fast as my little car would go in order to make up some time. I had almost deluded myself into thinking that we'd make it on time until we reached the Shoreline exit off of 101. Of course the exit was backed up for over a mile and we crawled at a steady two miles an hour all the way to our parking spot. The venue is definitely a great place to see a show, but their parking situation sucks the mold off a dead man's scrotum.

We found our seats in time to catch the last two songs of The Beta Band's set. We were treated to a barrage of rhythmic pleasure. The singer/guitarist had switched duties and was sitting behind a second kit, filling in the wall of percussion. The sound was immense – the bass was flooring. I felt a definite camaraderie from the band as they crowded together in the front of the stage, and I could tell they were having a blast. My roommate Karl, who had actually made it to the show on time, told me that the whole set was amazing, rubbing it in only the way a friend could. I'm really upset that I missed their set, but luckily the Beta Band is planning on going out on their own tour soon, so my second chance will be forthcoming.

The bright side of the situation was that I caught all of Radiohead's show. I'm trying not to come off like a fan-boy, but it's hard not to say they were spectacular. Thom Yorke was on point, nailing all the vocal lines without a single sour note. Guitarist Jonny Greenwood was adequately pop-sloppy, missing notes with style. One of the things Radiohead's success has afforded them is a host of new musical gadgets. Jonny's affinity towards old synths and obscure electronic instruments had broadened the scope of tonality on their more recent songs and he brought most of the devices out for the tour. Phil Selway hit the skins in perfect time with the sampled beats, but I've never seen a more stiff-looking musician – back straight as a board the whole hour and a half. The most energetic member of the band was Colin Greenwood who would jump up and down while handling the bass and some keyboard duties.

Another thing that success has afforded them is roadies. Ahh, the life of the roadie… loading pianos and amplifiers, drinking cheap beer and sniffing glue… In between songs roadies would move a piano on-stage, switch everyone's guitars and fiddle with whatever needed fiddling. The last time I saw Radiohead they had to suffice with a Fender Rhodes instead of a piano, and in songs like "Karma Police," a piano is necessary. With the help of many hands, Radiohead accomplished what few bands can do – pull their shit off live. I'm always disappointed when a band has a great sounding album but can't capture that sound in a live setting (see The Poor Rich Ones scene report). It's dually impressive when a band like Radiohead, who's sonic command can't be touched, is able to not only capture the songs' essence live, but pull off their albums' sound perfectly without a hitch.

They opened the show with Kid A's "National Anthem," and kept the crowd standing the entire hour and a half set. The band was intent on stretching the audience's ears with their less pop based music, focusing on material from Kid A, and their latest, Amnesiac. Amnesiac introduced a less experimental number as "a little light relief," and strategically placed songs off of OK Computer and The Bends between expanses of their (overly?) intellectual material.

Yorke's awareness of his surroundings was unusual for a rock star. He dedicated "No Surprises" to Michael Moore, the head of the WTO, saying that his life was about to become much more difficult. He also dedicated "Packed Like Sardines in a Crushed Tin Box" to "everybody stuck in traffic every day of the week," which was rather appropriate given the aforementioned parking ordeal.

The show was stupefying, the lights silhouetting the songs with style. The only thing I could have done without was the encores. Do we really need three? How about one long set and one encore? Just a thought. Maybe they were just exercising their stranglehold over the audience. Musicians drunk with the power of an audience's admiration can be rather boorish.

I have to say that I'm not the biggest fan of their new stuff. Experimentation is great for the soul and the sure-fire best way to fight off stagnancy, but my time allotted for pleasurable music is relatively small and I'd rather be rocked than lectured. All the same, those lectures really transformed themselves into masterpieces live, and the show has prompted me to buy Amnesiac. In short, Radiohead played an amphitheater show and somehow did it with style.

-Maurice Spencer Teilmann

Synthesis
30.06.01