Ben Gibbard.
Live At The 9:30 Club In Washington.
Score: Cool!
Ben Gibbard has, and probably always will be, the man who saved my life. The man who wrested my body from the dark grips of “alternative music,” think Linkin Park. Oh! How I suffered! One day I was searching around the internet, thinking about how my musical life had really gone down hill lately. I mean, yes, there was hip-hop (which I still enjoy), but there was also that genre of music that can only be described as the “Nickelback” genre. This genre is so grotesque that I am loath to even speak its name aloud, much like the students of Hogwarts are stricken with fear at the very mention of the Dark Lord Voldemort (fuck, man the movie and book come out soon). ANYWAY, my MP3 device was filled to bursting with His Dark Materials. The Materials being, Nickelback, Theory of a Deadman, and, oh Jesus, Default.
Are you shivering too? The hairs on my neck are standing at attention, like soldiers hearing their call to arms. UGH, ANYWAY, listen. I was searching around on the internet, thinking that I needed some new fucking flavor. I was typing nonsensical things into Yahoo (my search engine of choice at the time) when POW, this website stood out among all others. EPITONIC. I liked to say it, it was catchy and it rolled off of my tongue with such ease! “Click it.” A voice whispered. I did as I was instructed, who was whispering in my ear was not important, that they kept blowing lightly on the nape of my neck, was.
So I clicked Epitonic. *Click* Here has been clicked. I am on their homepage, it is so vast, as vast as the Pacific Ocean. How the FUCK am I supposed to choose which band to listen to? Well, if you are like me (and I very much doubt that you are) you pick the band with the coolest name. I went through tons of bands, some of which I still like to this day, but nothing really gripped me. I couldn’t connect. There was Three Mile Pilot, which I liked, but not enough to don the armor of indie rock until my body could bear it no more. Then I saw them.
Death Cab For Cutie. Exquisite. I downloaded the two or three tracks that were offered on the free. It was like the coming of the Apocalypse. This band, Death Cab For Cutie, had entered my world and brought with it a wave of destruction. Ben Gibbard had raised a war horn to his lips and crooned gently into it, vaporizing my beloved “alternative rockers” one by one with each concussion blast of his eerily angelic voice. The track was “Photobooth,” and I’ll never forget how it made me feel that fateful summer, like four years ago?! Fucking ridiculous. I still remember how fresh it was and how I felt so rejuvenated after hearing it. Like, here is something genuinely delicious to listen to, my ears agree that it is scrumptious. I would be ridiculed for years for listening to Death Cab for Cutie and Bright Eyes or, until it caught on. Which is just happening now! Those were bleak times indeed.
Years later, I still love Death Cab for Cutie, not as intensely as I did all those years ago. But something about their songs still resonate with me. I listen to Death Cab for Cutie when I am in the throes of (what could be loosely defined as) passion.
SO, this live show was recorded at a club, and as is the case with clubs, there are people. Annoying people. You have been warned! Also, the recording is a little spotty in some parts, but all in all an enjoyable listen, I really like his banter. A little nerdy. But at “music is for eating” that is what we are about.
Oh, and look at his fucking glasses. I love this man.
PS. The file is fucking huge.
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