2022: concerts

I’ve already written about the impact of Covid on our lives here and here, so I won’t belabor the obvious. While we did get watch some pretty good live show simulacra (the Hives FTW, along with Robbie Fulks at-home confessionals) there’s no replacement for feeling that floor shake underneath you as concertgoers dance their asses off.

We did test the waters in 2021: Nicole Atkins at the Tractor was our first venture back to concertland, followed by Robbie Fulks at the Triple Door. Both were safe spaces with lots of care given to performers and audience alike: masks, distancing, caution. Nobody wanted to take risks that might take live music away – again.

2022 brought vaccine boosters along with our resolve to travel and see live music once more. We hit venues with gusto, as did many fellow music diehards. Seattle remained pretty cautious but, on the other end of the spectrum, London didn’t give a shit. Some of the shows we went to across the pond we tightly packed with lots of shout-singing fueled by more than a couple of pints. London crowds tested our resolve and, I am not afraid to admit, there were a few times we succumbed to claustrophobia and stepped away from the crowd.

Thankfully, we only caught the Covid once, likely at a show in LA. The consequences were mild and we made sure to stay quarantined until our at-home tests were in the clear. We’ve remained cautious ever since.

Complications aside, we made it to a bunch of great shows, starting off with the closest thing I’ll ever get to seeing XTC live. Terry Chambers, XTC’s drummer from their peak commercial period, formed what might be considered a tribute band and toured the world. He still had that big drum sound made famous by Making Plans for Nigel.

Having seen twenty shows in 2022 it’s surprisingly hard to call out top picks – they were all just wonderful. We indulged some old favorites, such as OMD, Joe Jackson, and Pat Benetar. OMD was in fine form, with Andy McCluskey doing his usual chicken dance and loving every minute of their reborn success. Jackson’s stage looked identical to the last one we saw him on but he delivered a set that made you quickly forget such trivialities. Benetar’s set list focused on deep cuts but her voice – much the same as it was forty years ago – made up for any unfamiliar tracks.

Newcomers Nati on of Language and Wet Leg amazed. We saw Goldfrapp celebrate the 29th anniversary of Felt Mountain in the grandest of London environments. Neko Case performed a sumptuous best-of set at Woodland Park Zoo, making for a delightful summer outing. Foals brought their usual energetic selves in support of their new release, Life Is Yours.

And we saw two favorite artists – Sparks and Everything Everything – in our favorite venue: London’s Roundhouse in Camden. We even got to see Everything Everything later in the year at Portland’s charming Wonder Ballroom. While the Roundhouse was great for feeling that fellow-fan vibe, the Wonder let us see the band up close – so we got the best of both worlds across two shows and two continents.

We caught the UK’s dreamy Roxy Music in LA (of all places), ably supported by St Vincent – although the audience was a bit unpleasant at times: nearly had a wee scuffle a few rows back, plus the usual chatty Kathy’s catching up on work stuff in the middle of a great song. On the other hand, Echo & the Bunnymen’s audience was great but their sick and/or drunk lead (Ian McCulloch) turned in another frustrating performance.

Wet Leg and Florence + the Machine made for a great double-bill in the amazingly refurbished Climate Pledge Arena. Fun fact: parking directly under the Arena gives you easy access to a semi-private entrance. We’d never had an easier time parking for a mega-event like that before so advance purchase is highly recommended.

We’d never seen either Peaches or Supergrass before. Peaches lived up to her theatrical reputation; her dirty, filthy, wonderous reputation. I’m not sure what stood out more: her full nude body suit or the massive condom she crawled into during one of her songs.

Supergrass, on the other hand, did not wear vagina hats. But they had the dubious honor of being our first postponed pandemic concert. We had planned to see them in April of 2020 but, alas, dates just kept pushing out. The band was great, as was the historic Wiltern Theatre where they performed. Tina and I got lucky with a last-minute VIP table directly in front of the stage – drinks and all.

In terms of musical healing, we got lucky seeing David Bowie’s pianist Mike Garson in an intimate LA jazz club: The Sun Rose. Garson championed Bowie’s music since his passing so it was a very personal show. He shared anecdotes from his decades in the business and pretty much played whatever the fuck he wanted. It was a great show made even greater by vocalist Judith Hill who accompanied Garson through most of the show. All from around five feet away from our table.

The spiritual times continued with our last show of the year: The Flaming Lips. If there was ever a band that embodied love and acceptance, it’d be the Lips. Wayne Coyne led the band through their extensive catalog while surrounded by unstoppable stagecraft. They make even the smallest venues feel immense, full of joy and feels. They closed the set with balloons spelling out what I think we were all feeling: Fuck Yeah Seattle.