Jun 21

It’s time I come clean. I’m addicted. Addicted to H. What can I say? It is more addictive that crack, meth or ganja. No, I’m not talking heroin, I’m talking Local H, the Chicago area post-grunge rock machine that keeps on ticking while others in the genre fade away.

Last night I got a chance to see the two-piece live in person at the Rock in my hometown, Maplewood, MN. The wife and I arrived at 9, just in time to see the second half of a set by Apple Valley act The Soviet Machines. A high school punk band slightly reminiscent of Green Day, they were surprisingly good, surprisingly entertaining and as my wife pointed out, really small and wearing really tight pants. “Oh, they’re so small I could put them in my pocket.”

After that another Minnesota band, Santiago’s own Seazon of the Fly, took the stage. They reminded me of a cross between Alice and Chains and the Melvins. I like those two bands, but for some reason I wasn’t captivated by the fly. But you gotta give a band from the small oasis in the bowels of Sherburne County credit for being original – they had some solid guitar work layered in their songs. Plus, as a marketing guy, I was impressed by their post-show marketing efforts – they had folks wandering through the crowd trying to sign up for their mailing list and gave away their CD after the show. Heck, they probably have a more polished web site than Local H.

But enough about the opening acts. I was there for the H. I needed the H. I hadn’t seen the H live this millennium, so I had high expectations.

And the H didn’t disappoint. The frontman (literally, guitar, bass and vocal pretty much makes you the frontman) with two first names, Scott Lucas, and the patron saint of drummers (and birds), Brian St. Clair, started the show off with a bang, pounding out The One With ‘Kid’ and Michelle in quick succession. Touring behind their exceptional new album, 12 Angry Months, the band played with ferocity. Closing in on two decades of music-making, Lucas showed why Local H is considered one of the best live bands in the business by ripping up aggressive Local H staples like Fritz’s Corner and Bound for the Floor (with a brief segue to Britney Spears’ Toxic), slowing down for songs like 12 AMs Simple Pleas, and going tripping on Buffalo Trace from 2004’s Whatever Happened to PJ Soles.

But Lucas wasn’t the only star of this show. St. Clair is a maniac behind the kit, as close to Animal as you’ll find. He’s a mesh of long, stringy, sweaty hair, flailing limbs and hard-hitting menace. His drums take a pounding night in and night out, as he mashes drumsticks into toothpicks. How he managed to survive the week-long residency at Chicago’s Beat Kitchen that coincided with the release of 12AM I’ll never know, but I’m glad he did because his all-out drum assault is a sight to behold. To call Scott lucky to have found someone capable of filling Joe Daniels’ shoes is an understatement.

After ripping through nearly 90 minutes of their own material, including nearly half of 12AM (Taxi-Cabs may be my new favorite live H song) they closed with a roaring cover of TV on the Radio’s Wolf Like Me, including an incredible closing drum flourish by Brian St. Clair. The complete setlist:

The One With KidLocal H Live at the Rock 6-20-08
Michelle
Lovey Dovey
California Songs
White Belt Boys
Simple Pleas
Hands on the Bible
Buffalo Trace
Taxi-Cabs
Half-Life
Cooler Heads
24 Hour Breakup Session
How’s the Weather Down There?
All the Kids are Right
Fritz’s Corner

Encore:
No Problem
Bound for the Floor (with Toxic in the middle)
Wolf Like Me

After the set, Lucas exited stage right and walked through the crowd to the merchandise booth to chat with his adoring fans. Which leads me to my soapbox: If the music industry wants a shining example of a band that gets it right, they should look to Local H. They’ve built up one of the most loyal (and possibly dysfunctional, but that’s for another soapbox) fan bases in the industry because they make music by themselves, for themselves and their fans. Name me another band that would (or even could) play their entire catalogue live in a 7 day span – and do it for $10 a show. They aren’t in it for the money, or the women or the booze (well, the money, women and booze are nice perks), but the music. It’s the old-fashioned rock ethic of hard work, long bus rides, small bars and loud music. It’s uncommonly good music for the common person. And it’s why I have the utmost respect for them – music is about the live experience and Local H does it better than most.

That’s my review. The best part of the concert experience: watching the crowd. Random concert anecdotes:

Elaine – Seriously, I had a Seinfeld flashback watching this chick strut her stuff on the dance floor. For her sake, I hope she was tripping on something, because she was quite possibly the worst dancer I’ve ever seen live and in person. If she wasn’t high, she must suffer from a the worst case of the white person’s lack of rhythm disease ever diagnosed. She’d move fast during the slow parts, slow during the fast parts and accent during the unaccented parts.

Mohawk – My wife was enthralled with the mohawk next to us. “He had the most perfect mohawk I’ve ever seen. It was perfect.” I think she spent more time watching the mohawk to see if it would fall (it didn’t) than watching the concert. I gotta admit, mohawk man, it was pretty impressive. Nice work.

Tall, older guy who randomly wandered into the mosh pit at the end of the set – So Local H is pounding through Wolf Like Me, the 10 person mosh pit is going strong and suddenly, out of nowhere, some tall guy in his 30s wanders into the pit, as if in a daze. Just sort of saunters on in with a “This is pretty neat. I have the munchies” look on his face. He’s not bouncing up and down or flailing his limbs like the regulars, just going for a leisurely stroll through the pit. Guys hit him and he bounces softly for 1 or 2 beats and then continues on at a leisurely pace, oblivious to the craziness around him.

The Barber – The dude next to me shouting “I love your haircut, Scott” repeatedly. Sure, that’s an odd thing to say once. But when you say it 60 times in rapid succession, sometimes saying “Fucking love it!” while shaking your head in wonderment, it gets a little creepy. Maybe it was some kind of inside joke that I don’t get, but it was odd to say the least.

A great show by a great band ended with my wife and I in complete agreement. “I’d like to just follow them across the country and watch all their shows.” Couldn’t have said it better myself.


1 Star2 Stars3 Stars4 Stars5 Stars (1 votes, average: 5.00 out of 5)
Loading...