September 11th is always a surprisingly tough day for me. While I don't spend the whole day thinking about what it felt like to be in New York City on that day thirteen years ago or what it felt like in the weeks, months, years that followed; it's surprising the way it kind of sneaks up on me. As Gentleman Jim and I drove into Manhattan last night, the conversation turned for a few minutes -- totally organically -- to our memories of that day; and a little bit of that sadness started to creep into my consciousness again.
After a beer and a few minutes of conversation with some people in the bar -- Gentleman Jim knows everybody everywhere -- we made our way upstairs just in time for the opening set by Cymbals Eat Guitars. The crowded Bowery stage left Joe D'Agostino and the band a little less room to move around than they had at Asbury Lanes, but the energy level was right up there with the show I saw a few weeks ago. I've had some time since then to really get into the band's new record, Lose. It's really grown into one of my favorite records in a while. The songs from the album, with their overall theme of loss (of people, youth, innocence), fit right into where my mind had been kind of wandering on its own for the last hour or so. I didn't really realize that until I wrote those words, but it made for a pretty special short set.The crowd started to push closer to the stage as we got ready for Bob Mould's set. With the gear from the opening band cleared, the stage went from cramped to spacious. Mould, bassist Jason Narducy, and drummer Jon Wurster took the stage and started things off with "Flip Your Wig." Mould and Narducy stalked around the stage with Narducy throwing in some high leg kicks. Wurster is always a force behind the drums, and I'm always struck by what a good time he appears to be having.
The set covered more Hüsker Dü ("Hate Paper Doll," "Hardly Getting Over It," "I Apologize") and Sugar ("Hoover Dam," "A Good Idea," "If I Can't Change Your Mind") in addition to Mould's solo work. The songs came one after the other with hardly any banter in between. I took a few pictures to accompany this post, but I mostly closed my eyes and let Bob Mould's signature guitar sound pummel me in the chest.
It's kind of weird, I guess, reaching some type of meditative state, clearing all of the thoughts and cobwebs out of your mind as you stand in the middle of a storm like that. It happened both times I saw My Bloody Valentine, and I felt it again last night. After the last song -- "Hey Mr. Grey" from this year's Beauty & Ruin -- I kind of felt myself letting out one of those deep breaths, relaxing my shoulders and neck.
As we drove home, we chatted about a wide range of topics (as Jim and I have been known to do). Maybe I complained a bit about how my kids don't always listen or how some of the stuff at their school annoys me. But, really, it was all happy stuff -- kids, family, the community where we live, music. It was like I'd kind of been nudged -- or more like knocked -- back on track. I'm grateful for that and for, I guess, a whole bunch of other stuff, too.
You can check out a few pictures from both sets up at Flickr. There's also another chance to see Bob Mould and Cymbals Eat Guitars on Saturday when they bring their tour back to New York for a show at Music Hall of Williamsburg.
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