Ok, you waited for more than four years since my last review, and here it is, the definitive review of the 8/12/2003 show at the Electric Factory in Philadelphia. The Electric Factory has a history dating back about 35-40 years. My father will tell you stories of an unknown, Aftrican-American guitarist playing strange, phsycadelic rock for him and small audience. Upon completion, he said, "If applause were money, I'd be poor," giving everyone the finger. Yes, the wondrous Jimi Hendrix amongst many others played there. The New Electric Factory is at a bombed-out old factory building, holding roughy 3500 headbangers, and is now owned by Clear Channel entertainment. But, the revolutionary spirit is still there, right?
I arrived at the show sans ticket, which makes me think my neurosis has finally subsided. I'm pleased, and the only thing that worked better on that neurosis than the medication was actual exercise. I used to lose sleep wondering if I'd get tickets for concerts. I waited until the day of a sold out show to find a ticket, paying a mere $20 in face value to a guy near the front of the line. I guess that all you have to do is ask.
The opener was Sondre Lerche, a young singer-songwriter from Norway. (Where
in Norway? I dunno, just Norway). My first impression was Beck with a Les
Paul. His singing was purley Sinatra and his riffs all rockabilly. This
man was extremely cool, wearing jeans and a white undershirt. The fans loved
him and cheered quite a bit. Crooner. There, I said it. I hate that word,
crooner. Everyone is a damn crooner. I'm embarressed saying that word, for
some reason.
I feel so silly saying it, like B.M., or I-Love-You. Ick.
So, the guitar tech starts tuning. When he picked up the yellow Fender, about a dozen random people cheered, myself included -- the highlight of the night. The band eventually came out, followed by Liz. She was wearing a purple, zebra-striped, larged-necked one-shoulder top, a short demin skirt, shoes of some sort, bracelets on her left arm and studded anklets on her right leg. There was something shiny around her neck, and her hair was fairly long and whispy. Did I mention the short demin skirt?
The setlist went something like this, but I'll leave it to the others to provide the exact order:
6'1"
Rock Me
Polyester Bride
Help Me Mary
Divorce Song
Extraordinary
Favorite
Johnny Feelgood
Fuck and Run
Why Can't I
Supernova
Flower
No encore.
The sound was bad, simply too loud and the vocals too low.
Now for the rant. If satirical, obnoxious humor offends your or bunches your panties in any way, by all means, read on.
First of all, who the hell is Jason Mraz. The crowd was 99.9% Jason Mraz fans. If I had a nickel for every person that drove down from Gettysburg, Wilkes-Barre, or Waynesboro to see Jason Mraz, I could afford that Pabst Blue Ribbon I've been wanting. The fans were mainly girls under 18. One girl about six inches away took a likeing to me, but damn, I left my fake ID at home, the one that says I'm UNDER 18. The girl to my left kept asking if Liz's set was over. I said, honey, those strappy sandles are all wrong when you have to stand for five hours, straight. Go to Dave Matthews, get a lawn seat, bring a towel so your ass doesn't get wet, don't forget to bring smokes, and wager your entire high school experience on whether Dave's performance and the weather turn out to be the life-affirming event you expected. At a club show, expect to stand, with no personal space, for several hours. Pray that the artist makes you wait. Starve yourself before the show to build a bit of blood lust. Wear burlap in your trousers to toughen the skin.
The two obnoxious dudes near me, who were yelling lude proposals at Liz, were pulling a Laurel and Hardy, Kid and Play, John Cusack / Jeremy Piven 80's movie tag-team pickup on the girl to my right. Kids, please, for the love of God, lay off of the sugar cereal. And what the hell does EMO mean? I dunno, but I think guys were EMO. They did continously yell at Liz, "change guitars," which I thought was hysterical, as Liz changed guitars for every single song.
When the set finished with Flower, the entire audience erupted with cheers. Everyone loved it, which was nice. I headed up to the balcony bar to reflect, drink beer, and reflect. I bumped into a guy who had an autographed copy of "Liz Phair". I stammered something like, "Humu....Humu, humu...ooog-alley.... ooog-alley moog-alley!" He explained most articulately that I must go downstairs, buy a CD, get a wristband, then wait in line to meet Liz. I did so, and met Liz. I asked her if she remembered the show in State College, the last night of the 1999 college tour when she crashed David Mead's set and David Mead crashed her set with his band, half naked. I told her that was the greatest concert I've ever seen. She laughed and said, "Yeah, that's awesome!" Interestingly enough, I mentioned this to David Mead about two years ago and he said, "Yeah, that was crazy. I saw pictures of it on the internet."
Please, oh Lord, may I NEVER, ever, never ever, EVER meet Morrissey. May he be more elusive than the "Evil Eric" Garbage Pail Kid, and more rare than a Schwinn Paramount Pista. Meeting ones obsessions shouldn't be so easy. I was sure I'd never meet Liz. Oh well, here's to disappointment.
- -Ginz
Saw the Liz show last night at the Electric Factory in Philadelphia. It was a surreal experience. She came out on stage with what seemed to be a really fake smile, like she was forcing herself to smile. It was entirely surreal, because everything I knew the words to, no one else did. and what I didn't know the words to, a bunch of obnoxious 16 year olds did. I was the oldest person on the floor. I waited 6 years to see her, and I spent the night getting stepped on by a bunch of teens. The weird thing was, being in the front on the floor, we could see up her skirt. Ah well. Very impersonal performance, low energy. The bassist was the only one who seemed to be having a good time (I think her band would make some great cross-country truckers). Anyone else there with a differing opinion?
Alice
it really sucks that the philly show was my first liz show ever. the crowd was lame [besides myself and the other 5 liz fans in the audience], the sound wasnt that good, and liz didnt seem that into it. but why should she? after all, she's an indie rock icon who had to open for flashinthepan jason mraz. [its such an affront to all liz fans and I'm sure to liz herself.] at the front of the line to get in, there was a guy handing out promo cards for liz, asking if anyone was there to see her specifically. I told him I was and he said that if I could name all four CDs I'd get a poster. DUH. whatever, the poster's really cool and has now taken its rightful place above my bed, right next to the venus zine and the 12X12 record store promo flat.
I went with an old friend from high school and 4 of her friends from the Art Institute, all of whom were there to see Mraz. we ended up getting "seats" about 30 feet from the stage, back and to the right, directly behind two fucking frat boys who had something to prove -- they didnt BUDGE the entire show even though we were all about to be crushed into the back of them by the massive crowd. and the one with the hat, the motherfking bane of my existence, kept moving his fat head into my line of vision during the entire liz set. oh, and the KID next to us had it out for liz for some reason...he gave her the finger after the 1st song and screamed, "HOW MANY TIMES DID YOU HAVE TO FUCK JASON MRAZ TO GET ON THIS TOUR?" I turned around, ready to rip him a new one, when one of the art institute girls shoved him. he turned to me and said, "I'm sorry, I know you guys like her, but I think she fking sucks." and the art institute girl goes, "YEAH WELL YOU DONT HAVE TO ACT LIKE YOURE TWELVE YEARS OLD, ASSHOLE" and I could have kissed her right there. [to the kid's credit, when I was freaking out cos frat bastard #1 was ruining my view, he switched places with me so I could get a better view.]
I should really stop complaining -- I enjoyed myself overall. it was great to finally see liz play after 5 years of waiting. she looked and sounded fantastic [everyone I was with was like, "wow, she's really hot. I love her outfit!"] and totally blew everyone away with Flower. and I got to meet her in that FYE sponsored thing after her set was over. !!! the second I stepped up to the little table, my mouth went dry and all I could manage in the first 30 seconds was a creepy smile and, "Hi." I told her all the typical teenage fan stuff ["OMG I've been listening to you since high school and I cant believe I'm meeting you, cos you're so UP THERE, you're like my favorite singer of all time...blah blah blah."] I ended up giving her this note I had written before the show in case I did indeed meet her, that said how much fun her new album was and that the indiefuck critics should all go fuck themselves and she should -- I shit you not [I have no idea why I thought it was good to write this] -- KOKO: keep on keeping on. in any case, she seemed flattered and said she'd read it on the ride home. I like to think that it will touch her so deeply that she'll tape it above her bedroom mirror for everyone to see. right.
xoxostacy