I Was Barn on The 4th of July Part 5: The Walkmen.

I remember when I first heard The Walkmen. It was on that car commercial, years back. Where a bunch of post-college kids drive through adulthood to opening notes of “We’ve Been Had”. It was just a car commercial but something about the dreamy notes and dramatic vocals buried themselves my head until it became something of an obsession for me, a mission to find out just who that band was and to find out if every song they produced could yield such a magical affect. A quick googling provided the answer and within a few days, I had procured Everyone Who Pretended To Like Me Is Gone, an album that came to orchestrate my post-high school years with it’s bitter realism juxtaposed against a dreamy, overexposed background.

There’s a reason that so many bands these days sound heavily influenced by Everyone Who Pretended To Like Me Is Gone and The Walkmen’s subsequent efforts. It’s because they’re damn good.

I’d heard rumors before the 4^th that the “secret headliner” for Barn on the 4^th of July was going to be The Walkmen. The moment I confirmed it with Mr. Daytrotter himself, Sean Moeller, the excitement I already felt in anticipation for the Barnstormer reached a fever pitch, an anxious need to get to Iowa and get there as soon as I could, all the while listening only to Bows + Arrows, You + Me, and, of course, Everyone Who Pretended To Like Me Is Gone.

The Walkmen - We've Been Had

The Walkmen - The Rat

My adoration for The Walkmen goes far back, obviously, and is rooted deep in my heart, with front man Hamilton Leithauser being one of my first “indie rock crushes” back in the day. Something about Leithauser’s lyrics bore their way into me, relating to a part of myself that many musicians try to reach but few actually succeed in getting to. Much as there is a reason that so many “dream pop” bands sound like The Walkmen, there’s also a reason why “The Rat”, The Walkmen’s 2004 single off Bows + Arrows, is so revered. With it’s sloppy-sexy refrain of “When I used to go out, I would know everyone that I saw; Now I go out alone, if I go out at all”, Leithauser taps into the sadness of being a disillusioned twenty-something, much like The National do, but instead of having a baritone anchor like that of Matt Berninger, Leithauser’s frantic yelps as he asks “Can’t you see me, I’m poundin’ on your door?” perfectly encapsulate the manic-post college depression so many kids go through these days when they begin to realize drinking every night doesn’t always factor into adult life.

Taking the above anecdote about my introduction to The Walkmen into account, it’s no surprise that “We’ve Been Had” hit like a sucker punch when the band launched into it after their revelatory performance of “In The New Year”. As Leithauser shouted inimitably into the microphone with passion that far exceeded his seductively lackadaisical stage presence, it was almost like falling in love with The Walkmen all over again only I’d never fallen out of love with them, I’d just never been so lucky as to see them so intimately before. When “We’ve Been Had” faded into the self-deprecating and anthemic jolt of “The Rat”, the crowd was overcome with a palpable euphoria. Girls were dancing, men were singing, beers were being spilt with haphazard elation. Suddenly, the only thing that mattered was that we were all there, in a barn, in Maquoketa, Iowa, and The Walkmen were sharing the moment with us.

Seeing one of my favorite bands of the past five years share the stage with one of my favorite bands of the past ten years was easily the best moment of my professional life. It’s fun going to concerts all the time but after a while, it burns you out, especially being in a city like Chicago where something’s always going on. The whole beauty of the experience begins to lose a bit of it’s wonder. Nights like the 4^th of July, however, remind me what passion is and even now, more than a week later, I can still feel the excitement of stumbling through cornfields, making repeated beer runs, dancing with wonderful women, and flirting with wonderful men, all set to the backdrop of some of the best bands I’ve ever seen.

Barn on The 4th of July Part 4: Dawes

2009 saw some stellar releases from artists that I’d loved from anywhere from two years of my life to over ten but when it came time to order my top albums of the year, a band of newcomers took the top spot with a stellar debut that was evocative of something much grander than the member’s youth should be able to produce. Naturally, I’m talking about the darlings of Daytrotter, Dawes and their LP North Hills.

Everything about Dawes is not what it seems. Taylor and Griffin Goldsmith write songs that quote philosophers while preaching life lessons that make them seem nothing if not wise far beyond their almost painfully young years. They play like seasoned veterans with Wylie Gelber and Alex Casnoff providing more to the music than you would ever guess from hearing the record.

To say that seeing Dawes live makes their album seem fairly bland is quite possibly the biggest compliment that could be given to the quartet. North Hills has quickly risen to the ranks of one of my most played albums of the past five years, not just my favorite record of 2009, but despite its magnanimity, Dawes brings forth an energy live that I’ve yet to see any band duplicate. Yes, I’ve seen Dawes before and I’ll see Dawes again but despite that fact, the moment it was announced that they boys would be playing Barn on the 4^th of July, it was cemented that I was going. Seeing one of my favorite musical discoveries of my adult life play in a barn is something not be missed and Dawes, per usual, did not disappoint. It was truly Dawes’s crowd in Makoqueta, with everyone from 14 year old boys to 20-something hipsters to 60 year old men singing along to Taylor’s every word and taking them all to heart whilst doing so. When Taylor curses the western skyline, everyone in Maquoketa does too and when Griffin talks about how far he’s come, everyone in Maquoketa echoes in sentiments with bellowing devotion.

Dawes - How Far We've Come (Live at Daytrotter)

Peppering the set with new material off what is almost certain to become one of the best albums of 2011, Taylor, Griffin, Alex, and Wylie tore through the 4^th of July with their usual virile passion for the songs they’ve penned, a type of fervor for their art that is so rarely exhibited by musicians after having played the same songs almost every night for well over a year. It didn’t matter to them, however, that the songs were familiar. If anything, it was bolstering and welcomed. “Western Skyline” found new power with a chorus of people who knew each lyric, who all understand just how special Dawes is and who all know that one day soon, these California natives are going to hit it big, real big, and will be playing to the likes of sold out crowds at Lincoln Hall, so they treasure the time they get with Dawes because they all know, it’s just a matter of time before the rest of the world understands the sublimity of Dawes.

It was said by more than one person talking about their Barnstorming experience that the powerful “When My Time Comes”, one of North Hills strongest and most immediately accessible tracks, was the best song of the entire night – And that was said after The Walkmen blew everyone away. While Dawes did have my favorite set of the night, I must give The Walkmen the accolade of best song but even if no secret headliner existed and Dawes had closed out the night, I still would be saying I had the best weekend of my life. Great friends, great music, and great beer in a cornfield in Iowa. If life can get more special than that, I’ll gladly live in ignorance of whatever comes next because what Daytrotter has given us with the Barnstormer experience is more than enough to let me live the rest of my life out contented.

Dawes Daytrotter Session: May 6th, 2009

Dawes Daytrotter Session: July 8th, 2010

I'm Too Broke To Keep Dying This Way.

Well, I'm five days without a cigarette. I never really thought of myself as a hardcore smoker up until recently. I've been gingerly quitting for about a month now if for no reason than I am poor and cigarettes cost the same as one meal which can, on occasion, last an Amber three meals. If it comes down to a pack of Marlbros versus an order of Szechuan tofu... Well, the smarter gal would chose the tofu. The nicotine fiend that I've discovered residing within, however, well, her answer is different.

So I decided to quit smoking a few weeks back although I soon discovered that when I was drinking, I was bumming cigs left and right, so while "Sober Amber" was doing her darndest to live nicotine free, "Drunk Amber" was doing her best to thwart "Sober Amber"'s plans... Per usual. Remember that vow of celibacy? That lasted about 4 days after I made it and the guy I fucked up my year long "social experiment" with ended up promptly relegating me to the "friend zone"! Worth it? Well, uh, yeah, actually, it was but that's beside the point.

After realizing my drunk self's smoking habits, I decided to throw myself in, haphazardly and partially unwilling, to the cause of "no more smoking". If I were to give it a catchy campaign name, it'd probably be "Amber's Smokin' Hot! But Not Smokin' Cigs! 2010".

Now I'm five days without a cig, having smoked a few (or a few packs, probably) when I was in Iowa and Illinois because, to quote that Jeff Tweedy scamp, when you're back in your old neighborhood, the cigarettes taste so good. And also because there was a keg of Spotted Cow. And I was in a barn seeing favorite band of 2009 Dawes and favorite band of my 17 to 20 year old self The Walkmen! How cool is that shit?! Good times.

These days, however, nothing's good. My head? That constantly hurts. My back? Achey. Legs? Yeah, them too. My hands are shaky, my forehead's clammy and sweaty. I can't concentrate and I can't sleep. I have no energy. I'm constantly crabby. All I want to do is drink beer and sit outside and - You guessed it! Smoke cigarettes! But two of those three things I've been abstaining from as of late and sadly, sitting outside hasn't been one of them. But at least I have this to orchestrate the whole ordeal:

Andrew Jackson Jihad - Still Smokin'

Art via Natalie Dee this time 'round.

What A Hot Half Life I Half-Live... And Now You Get To Hear All About It!

Man, blogging is hard work. I believe it was previously mentioned that Amber Valentine has gone from Hot Half Showrunner to Editor in Chief of Radio Free Chicago. Does the fact that I no longer live in Chicago make me a phony? Probably. But regardless, since my takeover, RFC hasn't been "off air" for a day. Heck, the other day, we had three posts. Three! What kind of fuckery is that? Awesome fuckery. It's been strange, however, as I went from being able to write whatever the hell I want here to having to get back in the swing of coordinating and delegating.

But the point of this isn't how RFC has affected my day to day "wake up at noon and sit at the computer" existence. It's how this shift in behavior is going to affect The Hot Half Life, something I've given alot of thought to in recent days, since my return from Iowa (more on that later, promise).

The conclusion is that this blog will (obviously) be still geared on music and how it affects my life but will also begin to feature more personal jackassery from yours truly. Questions such as "Why do I live a 'hot half life'?", "Why am I constantly referring to myself as an idiot?", and "Why exactly doesn't a cutie gal like me have a boyfriend?" will all be answered. Finally! Oh, wait, am I the only one excited for this...? Well, the lack of readers isn't going to stop me now. It never has in the past!

So here's to a shiny, new, lamer Hot Half Life. What's to come? Anecdotes! Songs! Pictures! Songs! Moping! Songs! Idiocy! Songs! Pictures! And songs! And, you know, for actual "well written" things that don't "suck", there's always Radio Free Chicago.