I’ve been saving money recently, though it’s certainly not like I’ve been trying. I’m still going to just as many shows and still buy what I want, but at the end of every month there’s more money in my account than there was at the beginning of the month. I couldn’t quite figure out why until I bought two plane tickets in one week. Then I realized the Wrens haven’t toured for a year and a half.
I’d never understood people who fly to see bands, until I found one worth doing it for. In an attempt to justify all the plane tickets I’ve bought, unless you fly it would be hard to see the Wrens more than once a year. Since I’ve known them (only five years, a fraction of their existence) they’ve never done anything I would consider a proper tour, just some weekend dates every once in awhile. They’ve taken most of the last two years off, theoretically to work on a new record, and I didn’t realize how much I had missed them until I decided to take the plunge and finally head to Austin for SXSW after finding out they would be there.
I’d already bought a ticket for that when this show, a benefit for Seattle radio station KEXP, was announced. I only thought about it one minute before e-mailing a friend to see if I could stay with him and buying another plane ticket (the good news being I probably only need one more flight to get a free ticket on American). Despite being a sold-out show, the floor of the Bowery Ballroom was still basically empty when I arrived fifteen minutes before show time. By the time the Wrens took the stage it had filled up and there was a palpable anticipation in the room.
Drummer Jerry MacDonald walked on stage holding three pieces of poster board in front of him. “Hello,” the first read, “We are the Wrens, it is nice to see you,” said the second. The first two he dropped to the floor while the third, which read “We (heart) KEXP,” he handed to me. And then we were on our way.
Despite all the talk of new songs and a new record, the set hadn’t really changed all that much since the last time I saw them. Not that it really matters, seeing the Wrens has always been much more about the energy on stage and in the room than it has been about hearing seldom-played tracks or new songs. There were a couple of new tunes, which bassist/keyboardist/lunatic Kevin Whelan insisted on calling “jams,” but they were all his. The band’s other singer, songwriter, and famed procrastinator Charles Bissell has apparently been too busy caring for a new baby (or Facebooking if you are to believe Magnet magazine’s “Wrens Watch”) to come up with anything new.
It wasn’t the most astounding Wrens show I’ve ever seen, it was even shorter than their usual sprint sets and there may have been some rust (perhaps imagined on my part), but it was still amazingly good to see them. It was totally worth the plane ticket and sets up the three times I will see them in Austin nicely. And even my least favorite Wrens show is still mind-blowing compared to 90% of the bands I see, and I see a lot of bands.
For instance I still don’t understand the rabidity surrounding Titus Andronicus. I was willing to chalk up their generic sounding and unremarkable Rathskellar set to bad sound and a more than capacity crowd. But even from my spot directly in front of the stage in the much better sounding Bowery, I just didn’t get it. Lead singer Patrick Stickles lurches around the stage, alternately pounding a keyboard and barking unintelligible lyrics into the microphone. I’ve heard the CD many times since being underwhelmed at the campus show, and despite it sounding like Bright Eyes after a night of drinking with Shane MacGown, I’ve found it rather likeable, but it didn’t help me enjoy their set tonight any more. Perhaps they are better heard and not seen.
On the other hand, show openers Glaswegians We Were Promised Jetpacks were quite charming. It would be hard to deny a band this earnest, especially when every time they opened their mouths delightful Scottish accents came out. Their youth (seriously they couldn’t have been much over the legal drinking age), and sincere awe over being part of this benefit (“we honestly don’t know why we are here”) made me not only like them, but also respect them. That sort of genuine truthfulness is rare in this age of cocky rock stars. If it fits in with my Wrens watching, I am hoping to see them again at SXSW.
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