Emo Diaries: The Appleseed Cast

The Appleseed Cast is pretty weird for an emo band. The first album, The End of the Ring Wars, aside, most of the material strays widely from the accepted turn-of-the-millennium formula for emo exemplified by Saves the Day or Alkaline Trio. Instead, these guys take their cues from U2 and Godspeed! You Black Emperor (but in a good, wholesome emo way... I actually don't really like those two bands). That's an awkward way of saying that the Appleseed Cast uses a lot of drone in long songs that typically have the vocals deep in the background.

I saw Appleseed Cast in DC recently at a show that was cut short because there was an after-party for a Ladytron show starting at 11pm. Whatever. The show itself was definitely enjoyable, but it made me think a lot more about the band. These guys just seem beaten. And not only because they were battling illnesses and were almost run over by a tornado recently, but through their songs and performances too. The vibe they give is different from most emo bands - there's a strong sense of doom in a very unironic way. Instead of writing catchy, easy songs for teenage kids, these guys went the opposite direction and paid the price for it. Here they are, coming up on 15 years of existence, and still being booted off stage by some English electro pricks.

It might be the Kansas thing that throws me off. But there's something much more authentically emo about these guys. No flash, no theatre, just pain and resignation. Nobody will be singing the lyrics at these guys' shows, there will certainly be no "whoa-oaa" moments, and if there's anything even remotely like a breakdown, it's hidden under eighteen layers of reverb. Yet their music still speaks, and powerfully so.

Great moments in post-punk/hardcore/whatever

Milo's creepy rapist laugh doesn't appear in this live version... which is unfortunate.



Ian MacKaye has my ideal life story.



Still can't believe I missed the two Rancid shows at Black Cat in 06.

Pit Stereotypes

• The Cute Girl: You don't have any business being in the pit, but you survive because every guy follows his instinct to protect you. Always safe from bodily harm of a violent nature, but a prime target for sexual advances.
• The Jock: You definitely don't care about the band but only about running into other people at maximum speed. Distorted guitars are an excuse for knocking down some geeks.
• The Needless Stage Diver: Dude, you're 275 pounds - don't jump from there, we won't be able to catch you. Ouch, you totally smacked me in the head with your shoe. So don't blame me if I take it off of your foot and toss it at the other side of the stage.
• The Guy With Glasses: Okay, so ethics demand that I try to make some space for you while you scour the ground for your glasses which are already probably smashed beyond all recognition, but that doesn't mean that I have to like it.
• The Fat Girl: So you're probably smashed up against the front of the stage and really like the band, but just because you push backwards doesn't mean that I'm going to respect your personal space any more than anyone else.
  
• The Supertwins: Yes, if you interlock your arms and spin around, you'll gain enough momentum to clear the pit. Good job. I'll be looking out for an opportunity at a kidney shot later.
  
• The Skinny Kid: I admire your moxie, but I'm only going to lift you off of your back a few times before I give up.
• The Indignant Edge-Guarder: The pit grows and shrinks at its own pace. You are not entitled to your spot even if you're standing completely still.
• The Legit Punk: I could really feel the Knox Gelatin when your spike poked under my eyelid and I think your bracelet might have pierced my skin that one time. I'm definitely too scared to run into you on purpose.
• The Bouncer: Dude... nobody's bleeding yet... everything's fine.
• The Eight Year Old: You'll be a scene legend someday, but I heard you kids still have a soft spot in your skull or something, so please stay out of my way.
  

Michael Jackson's fashion is pure fascism

Okay, so I'm probably the very last person to notice this, but Michael Jackson's style is a page taken straight from Pinochet's playbook. Take an objective look - epaulets, armbands, sashes - they're all military-inspired at best and dictator-inspired at worst:

This is a picture of Mike around the time of his trial in 2005 wearing his typical armband - whose fascist connotations I don't think I really even have to get into - and the Order of Vienna medal. Other medals that he supposedly wears are antiques from WWI, WWII, and the Civil War.



Here's a performance from Super Bowl XXVII which explicitly evokes military imagery. The outfit he's wearing is pretty similar to the one he - well, the statute of him - is wearing on the cover of HIStory.

I mean, it could be a totally innocuous fashion sensibility, a method of promoting an album or two. Dude isn't the first musical act to evoke military and fascism in their image, but he is the only one, to my knowledge, to achieve such massive popularity, to not reference it somewhat ironically in his music, and to use it consistently over the course of his career (and even now, with his career over). If I really wanted to go into it, I'd reference the fascist efficiency of his tunes or the subliminal appeal of fascism and how he incorporated it into pop music. Or you could just say the he's clearly afflicted with major mental illnesses and grandeur is just one symptom among many. But it's late and I'm lazy... so I'll just suggest these things for now.

Crystal Castles Show

We almost ditched this show because of the massive line out the door, around the corner under the Blue Line tracks into an alley. The five of us dealt with the randoms standing around for a free show. Things given away aren't always valued. People know the band they paid $100 to see.

Anyway, in line at about 8:30 and and began judging the first band at 11. An apparently normal guitarist and drummer emitted digitized sounds passed through some modulator, I think. But it's just a guess. Not a fan.

Crystal Castles took a long time to come onto stage. Egregiously and disappointingly long, but I guess an electro group has to maintain a mystique. Couples doing their crazy couples at indie shows dance that you might have seen before. But trust me when I say that at an electro show your typical Wilco-style public humping takes on an entirely different tenor. The club's cramped design led to excessive sweating and the audio board crowded the stage in a totally awkward position. Generally inferior to Black Cat, which might be the most perfect small venue.

The black clothes, black hair, and heavy black eye shadow maintans Crystal Castles' mystique. Alice Glass, vamping and diving from the stage's edge compensated physical energy for vocal energy. Energetically dispassionate, the distance of Ethan Kath (on synth) highlighted his disinterest with crowd interaction, engrossed in the keyboard, lights, and blindfold-like hoodie.

Fun for a free show, but a compelled payment might have changed my impression. A 30 minute show befits this type of band.