Monday, July 28, 2003
Incidental Music
Friday’s concert was hot hot hottt. I got out of work a little early, changed into the party shirt and moshpit boots, and hightailed my lowriders over to L-13 for two quick pints and some stimulating conversation. Just as the party was getting started I excused myself and took Muni two stops east to the Civic Center, where I grabbed a sub sandwich and got into line for a decent shot at a decent spot once the doors opened. The Warfield is my definition of a big trippy olde-school theater; in contrast to its palatial interior and facade, it’s in a scuzzy part of town that makes for interesting street interactions to watch while you’re in line. (When a 7-11 moving into the neighborhood is evidence of gentrification, you know things aren’t good.) The line itself was full of goodhearted folk who shared their beers and desserts with me as we acquainted ourselves. Dave bicycled up to say hi on his way home from work; he’d be showing up later because he had a ticket for a reserved seat.
- Break for Kel’s dream about the show: a few days before the show, she dreamed that it was held at a small dingy bar where pretty much the only people there were us and our friends. The band played slow, ponderous dirges and took breaks to show short films “featuring our political views.” We stuck around but didn’t enjoy it much. So much for the dream. -
Returning to the *actual* show: we got ourselves a good spot in the line and were able to score a very prime spot on the floor - at the very front of the second riser level. This put us about 50 feet from the band, but at eye level with them, and no one in front of us to block our view; a four-foot dividing wall stood right in front of us for purposes of letting us lean on it. They were the best seats in the house, except we weren’t sitting down.
SCI is one of those rare bands that can cover Johnny Cash, the Talking Heads, BTO, and Paul Simon, all in one show, and actually produce highly credible and enjoyable versions of each one’s music that stand up to the originals. There was a good dollop of my favorite funky bluegrass stylings and everybody was euphorically friendly and cheerful. When the band came back for the encore, the drummer was so enthusiastic that he stood up at the drum kit, then stood up on his chair, then stood on his chair on one foot, all while furiously drumming - at first - and then flailing and falling, crashing into the kit like a drunken pelican. Hi-larious.
Captain Funk was in the audience. We recognized him by his knee-length silver-lame’ cape with the words “CAPTAIN FUNK” across the back in black. I figured he must have gotten a battlefield commission. I’m just Seargent Funk. You know - “Don’t call me sir, I funk for a living.”
The set list is in the expanded entry, for the dedicated and curious.
Set 1: Close Your Eyes, Big Sciota, High on a Mountaintop, Cedar Laurels, Rainbow Serpent (first time played), Boo Boo’s Picnic, Magic Carpet Ride > Come As You Are
Set 2: Joyful Sound > Impressions > Desert Dawn, Black Clouds, This Must Be the Place (Naive Melody) > Miss Brown’s Teahouse
Encore: Ring of Fire, San Jose (with You Can Call Me Al tease)
