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Bottom of the Hill September 15, 2000 'What the fuck is wrong with him?!', hissed Squid repeatedly throughout this extremely long evening. Squid was distraught, and would like to issue this humble plea to all her indie-rock heroes: Please do not go from being a musical god, an acerbic wit, a gifted musician, and a spokesperson of genre to a rambling, unrehearsed, longwinded dork. If you do not know a song, do not start to play it three times, mumbling intermittently under your breath, stopping to vocalize every thought that comes into your head instead of playing music. This happened not once, not twice, but repeatedly, to the point where we are fairly certain that he spent more time on stage moralizing that playing. (The only useful comments were the plugs for Aquarius Records.) We watched an entirely packed Bottom of the Hill empty out within the first half hour of Chris’ performance. Squid remembers the first time she saw Chris at the Kennel Club, opening for Yo La Tengo. There were mistakes and declarations, hell, there were even sunflower seeds being spit on the audience, but the majority of the time, there was music, awesome, loud, improvisational fucking gorgeous noise. Squid would like to point out that there were plenty of people who thought the show was just fine and that she was totally overreacting. Squid’s reply: "Hmpf!" On a brighter note, the show kicked off with local hero Kyle Statham, aka Pablo Wong. A very quiet, beautiful set from this member of fuck, the highlight of which was the dancing girls. (!) |