so you wanna be entertained?

Sleater-Kinney
@ Roseland Ballroom, June 23, 2005.

Set list: The Fox, Wilderness, One More Hour, Light Rail Coyote, Modern Love, Rollercoaster, What’s Mine Is Yours, Faraway, Jumpers, Let’s Call It Love, Steep Air, Sympathy, Entertain. 1st Encore: Oh!, I Want To See The Bright Lights Tonight, Step Aside, Words And Guitar. 2nd encore: Mother, Dig Me Out.

Trapped in a decade when many female indie pioneers such as Liz Phair and Tori Amos have traded in their feminism for flat-ironed hair, husbands, and babies, I have to admit I was slightly nervous when the sound of chirping birds filled Roseland Ballroom as Sleater-Kinney took the stage. Okay, so maybe the indie women have gone soft and sold out, but not Sleater-Kinney, right? Right!

True, the last time I saw them perform they were opening in enormous venues for beloved arena rockers, Pearl Jam. And yes, I even witnessed Corin rock out like it was 1991 as she joined Eddie Vedder in a chilling rendition of the Temple Of The Dog grunge classic, “Hunger Strike.” Still, Sleater-Kinney remains true to their riot grrrl roots, with their latest album, The Woods. Complete with tree ring album art and guitar solos long enough to span the entire length of the 1970s which inspired them, the album offers an autobiographical history of the band. Clearly, their sound has matured. No one’s sporting radical sharpie-scrawled slogans across their liberated midriffs, but guitarists/singers, Carrie Brownstein and Corin Tucker have stuck with their familiar formula of screaming, raw guitar riffs, and punk rock attitude, maintaining the riot grrrl credibility they have carried with them from the long gone days of short-lived careers with Excuse 17 and Heavens To Betsy (undeniably two of the best bands to ever come of the North Western movement).

Playing the entirety of their new album (give or take a few songs), Sleater-Kinney proved that they are both talented and interesting enough to keep adding to their loyal fan base even while they stray away from their older material. I probably wasn’t the only one vying for an old school anthem, like “I’m Not Waiting” to feed my hunger for teen angst nostalgia, but I also wasn’t the only one completely enthralled by the new songs which offer a women’s modern take on traditionally vintage male rock. Um, did I mention Janet Weiss played the cowbell?! The fact is, Sleater-Kinney could play it safe for years, indulging their fans in danceable favorites like “I wanna be your Joey Ramone," but the women of Sleater-Kinney just don’t seem satisfied with that sort of safety. Besides, any band who can keep cool while performing guilty pleasure covers (i.e. Boston’s “More Than A Feeling” and Danzig’s, “Mother”) is a band born to take chances.

let's have a ball.

Interpol/Pixies
@ Jones Beach, June 14, 2005.

Interpol set list: Next Exit, Slowhands, Say Hello To Angels, Narc, Not Even Jail, Leif Erikson, Evil, Take You On A Cruise, Obstacle 1, PDA.

Pixies set list: Is She Weird?, Subbacultcha, Dead, Wave of Mutilation, I Bleed, Broken Face, Monkey Gone to Heaven, #13 Baby, In Heaven, Where is my Mind?, La la love you, Nimrod's Son, Mr. Grieves, The Holiday Song, Vamos, Here Comes Your Man, Bone Machine, Stormy Weather, The Sad Punk, Something Against You, Isla De Encanta, Allison, Cactus, Gouge Away, Tame, Debaser, Hey, Gigantic, Encore: Caribou.

Okay, so I probably shouldn’t have shunned those extra squirts of bug spray. And I shouldn’t have assumed that the breeze off the water might create enough of a chill to make dragging around a sweaty cardigan sweater seem practical. And surely, I should have spent less time leisurely sipping vanilla vodka and cola in the parking lot and more time rocking out to the seemingly dance-worthy beats of Lcd Soundsystem.

Still, after making my way through the obnoxious barrage of gigantic Tommy Hilfiger logos and the masses of red and black clad preteens, I reached my seat just as Interpol had taken the stage, easing me gently into my summer concert life with a delicate yet heartfelt rendition of “Next Exit.” Honestly, they pretty immediately garnered my undivided attention based on coolness factor alone, failing to miss a single note while at least three band members simultaneously smoked cigarettes mid-song. But, it was more likely the hypnotic effect of the nostalgic but never overly sappy nature of the songs themselves that truly won me over. Having never before seen the band perform, I was thrilled to indulge in personal favorites such as, “Obstacle 1” and “Leif Erikson,” and though I may have rolled my eyes ever so slightly, I even secretly enjoyed “Slow Hands” and “Evil”. The thing is, when the opening band, primarily made up of a bunch of baby-faced scenesters possesses more stage presence than the headlining act, you realize Interpol is probably too good to be opening for anyone (even the Pixies!), and when they left the stage I’m sure I wasn’t the only one left feeling disappointed.

Allowing for just the right amount of anticipation to build, the Pixies finally appeared, boasting the sort of calm confidence that can only be acquired over time. But they only showed their years in terms of focus, playing straight through almost thirty songs, rarely stopping to chat or even breathe between songs. True, they lacked enthusiasm at first, but after just a few songs, their looks of boredom faded and Frank Black began delivering guttural screams with ease, Kim Deal gave a smile or two!, David Loverling led the band into the super cute, “La La Love You,” and guitarist, Joey Santiago, (if for one night only) dethroned Thurston Moore and became the reigning king of reverb. Mixing a heavy handful of well-known classics (i.e. “Monkey Gone To Heaven,” “Where Is My Mind,” “Here Comes Your Man,” “Gigantic”) with a few surprises (Kim Deal’s melodic version of “In heaven”), and downright hard rock breakdowns (during songs like “Tame” and “Something Against You”), the Pixies managed to appease their diverse audience of both diehard fans and more inexperienced ones, new to the captivating combination of “Caribou” and “Cactus” -like textures responsible for turning the Pixies into the rock icons they have become since their split in 1992. Let me assure you, even if the nosebleed seats were empty, the Pixies are still deserving of all the hype which surrounds them these days.

While nothing can quite compare to indulging in semi-sweet harmonies and crude bass lines while the sun sinks into the ocean, Jones Beach (excuse me, Tommy Hilfiger) Amphitheater is unfortunately just large and conveniently located enough to draw entirely too many ambiance-wreckers (i.e. girls in skin-tight camisoles dancing drunkenly and screaming “I love you” to the angelically indifferent Carlos D. and Frank Black). Still, I’d be a liar to suggest that the lack of seats combined with the familiarly sticky feel of city floorboards beneath my aching feet could have made this show any cooler.