Grandaddy Celebrate 25 Years Of Putting Emotions First
Wednesday night was an amazing show, but it wasn't my show. Other than one song a local band covers (which I didn't know was a cover until a few weeks ago), I knew nothing about the music being played, so it was one of those nights when I almost felt like I was living a lie. Okay, maybe that's not quite the way to put it, but as I watched the rest of the audience passionately singing along to every word of every song from the headliner, I couldn't help but wish I could join in. They were all having a religious experience, and I was just standing there, watching it all unfold.
Indie-rock meets alt-country act Greg Freeman was first up on the First Avenue stage as the sole opener for Wednesday night's show. His set was cool, calm, and collected, but was also full of passion and soul. The sound that Greg and his band were producing was a mix of Wheatus meets "She Don't Use Jelly" by The Flaming Lips, with an almost Pedro the Lion kind of sensitivity. I know, that's a pretty wild yet specific description, but it's the best way I can describe what was happening throughout Greg's set. I really liked the fact that this musician was able to make his sound, which is definitely not my normal cup of tea, feel accessible and relatable with the passion that he and the other highly talented musicians were performing with. The room was definitely still filling up as Greg powered through his forty-five-minute set, but that didn't stop him. I'm pretty sure that he could have been playing to an empty room and still given me the same feeling, and that's the sign of a performer who is doing this because they love it. That was more than enough for me to fall head over heels for Greg Freeman.
Like I mentioned, Grandaddy isn't my band. I've known about them for years now, but I've just never been able to really get into them. Their sound is reminiscent of a lo-fi, first-wave emo style. It's tender, soft, and slow, which, during their heyday in the early 2000s, was just not what I was into. That being said, I am not blind to this group's influence. Since their start in 1992, Grandaddy has inspired a bunch of the bands I listen to daily. They were the kind of band that wasn't afraid to put emotions at the forefront of their sound, and I think that's something that a lot of bands still struggle with today. Grandaddy makes that feel easy, and they put that in the spotlight on Wednesday night.
Wednesday night's show was part of a celebration of 25 years of their iconic album 'The Sophtware Slump.' Released in May 2000, this album quickly became the soundtrack for so many people because it was light but heavy at the same time. It really seemed to showcase the band's stunning emotional side, and seeing that play out on stage right in front of me was truly dreamlike. As mentioned, I wasn't one of the many people who were completely lost in every passing word. Okay, I was lost in it, but not in the same way. I was lost in the beauty and talent of the set rather than the attached emotions that had been created after years of listening to the band. Like many nights where I see a band I don't really know much about, I found myself a bit torn throughout their set. Did I want to watch the band perform? Or did I just want to watch the audience react? Either way, I was eating up every second of the show until the final note was left hanging in the air.
After talking to my boyfriend a bit more about this band (he's one of those super fans I keep on mentioning), I realize just how much attention to detail this band puts into everything when it comes to their sound. Some elements of their music feel foreign while sounding familiar, and I think that speaks to what my boyfriend was saying. Throughout Grandaddy's time on the First Avenue stage on Wednesday, I felt like I was feeling textures, not just music. Their sound was like a lush velvet landscape cut by ridges of angsty glass, followed by valleys of tear-filled ponds. Dramatic, I know, but when you really dig into Grandaddy's sound and music, it's a little dramatic. I've talked about how I've been able to feel bands in the past —not just hear them —but Grandaddy seemed to take that to a new level without even trying. Every time I would turn my attention to frontman Jason Lytle, it would look like he was almost whispering into the microphone, yet the sound and passion he was producing felt heavier than any breakdown I had ever heard at a metalcore show. It was almost confusing to watch, but again, it was nothing short of brilliant and beautiful.
Wednesday night was not my night to have a super life-changing event, but I could visibly see that that's exactly how this show hit for some in the audience. Sure, being able to write about how a show or a band changed my life is great, but sometimes it's just as fun to feel that happening to someone else. This world continues to get darker and scarier with every passing moment, but for a couple of hours on Wednesday night at First Avenue, there was peace, calm, love, and beauty.