I have two laptops. One that is my “travel” computer. It’s one of Lenovo’s Yoga Ideabooks, perfect for use on-the-go. It’s the very same version that thieves in Providence snatched after smashing the two side windows of Mary’s RAV4, the night before Mark’s celebration of life at Brown. My insurance money allowed me to buy another one.
On that laptop is a very long attempt at writing a review of Thursday night. I completed it on Friday afternoon after trekking to the JFK Presidential Library and Museum, as Mary and I had decided to spend an extra day in the city before boarding the train north for home, on Saturday. While she caught a catnap before we headed out to a romantic dinner in the city’s North End, I was banging out a review that I guess will never see the light of day.
It was Valentine’s and Mary and I were in Boston to see Car Seat Headrest (CSHR). Actually, I was the one who wanted to see the “next big thing” in indie rock, but being such a good sport, she decided to take me up on my offer of a second ticket and hit the rock show with me, even though she could care less about the indie music I’ve loved for forever: that’s the kind of girl that she is and has always been. I’m sure that quality is also why Mark loved his mom like he did.
Today is Sunday, three days after Thursday. We thoroughly enjoyed our time in an urban environment very different from where we live in Maine. Amtrak’s Downeaster made this trip especially enjoyable.
Back from Boston (from the Prudential Skywalk)
Our time in the big city was fun. I think the reason we had such a good time is because we left the car back in Brunswick. Being able to experience a city without the hassle of driving in city-style traffic lessens the stress. That and not having to find parking is a plus, too. Of course, it helps to be in an urban environment that has a stellar public transportation system. I know the locals love to bash the MBTA, but for someone like us who live in a small town with minimal public transportation options, being able to embark on public rail to crisscross the landscape of a major American city was a plus, and kind of fun, too.
Music remains one of a few things that have helped mitigate the pain and brokenness that I’ve been living since January 21, 2017 when Mark was killed. Car Seat Headrest is one of the many bands and artists that have spent time in my CD player, or on my turntable, permitting an alternative sense of reality that has somehow tempered my grief and loss.
During Mark’s final walk, during the fall of 2016, I’d finally gotten on the CSHR bandwagon. I’d been hearing them played a lot on some of the stations I stream, like KEXP from their hometown of Seattle, and WMBR (MIT). Something about Will Toledo’s lyrics, and then, learning a bit more about who he was as a budding rock star and where he’d come from captivated me. His history of lo-fi recording really struck a chord dating all the way back to the time in 1993 when I drove to Princeton, New Jersey, simply to see Guided by Voices, an influence present in Toledo’s music, especially the early recordings.
I’d emailed Mark about my CSHR fandom in the fall when he was out walking. I was especially smitten with their archived live show for KEXP from 2015, just after they’d signed with Matador and released Teens of Style.
I wrote at the time, “They have so many great songs. Will Toledo is one of those prolific songwriters who got his start making music in his bedroom and releasing it on Bandcamp at first.
The song ‘America’ made me think of your trip. Will’s writing from the perspective of seeing the country from life on the road, most likely in a tour van. The first line goes,.
‘You can drive across the whole thing in four days…if you want it,’ which again is the time when you’re driving. Still, there’s this sense of America being out there if you really want to see it, which you are doing on foot, literally!
Anyways that’s some of my ‘wisdom’ or at least thoughts, this morning.”
These were the kind of notes I sent him most mornings during the 100 days of his walking. Of course, if you know me, you know what happened on Day 101.
Mark wrote back about CSHR:
“Carseat Headrest sort of got me back into music. They’re good.”
From somewhere on Thursday night, during part of their set at Boston’s Royale, I sensed Mark’s presence, or perhaps I was just hearkening back to that exchange. Whatever the reason, songs they played that night elicited emotion and even tears at times.
Like happens these days almost every time I head out to a show, I end up being one of the older people in the crowd. On Thursday night, there were lots of younger types ahead of us in the long line waiting for the doors to open, and then, pogo-ing or moshing during Will and Co.’s set.
“Maybe we can adopt some of them,” I said to Mary.
On “Sober to Death,” which on this tour, with the opening band, Naked Giants, joining Will and his band—forming for all intents and purposes, an indie rock super group—they segue into Neil Young’s “Powerfinger,” and then at the end, incorporate refrains from Stevie Wonder’s “Don’t You Worry About a Thing.” It’s a powerfully evocative song, and in its current rendition, it’s a highlight of their live set. It likely means different things to different listeners, as music often proffers diverse interpretations dependent on who is listening to a song and where they are at when they hear it.
For me, Toledo’s pain-soaked outro,” don’t worry, you and me won’t be alone no more, don’t worry,” I can’t help but think that in fact, Mary and I will be “forever alone,” without Mark. Different than Toledo’s intent, but again, music offers what it needs to those who are listening. Here’s a bit more about this song, from a blog, written by a fan of the band.
Car Seat Headrest on VDay night/Royale in Boston (Bryan Lasky photo/Vanyaland
When I spent a couple of years in my early 30s DJ’ing at a college radio station, the students I rubbed elbows with were a lot like Toledo—young, smart, obsessed (and knowledgeable) about music. It’s probably not an accident that Toledo was a DJ at the VCU’s college radio station and had a band at the time. I’m still in touch with a few of those former Bowdoin students, who like Toledo, were DJs and had bands.
In the fall of 2017, I saw the War on Drugs in Portland at the State Theater. They were touring in support of their A Deeper Understanding record, the one that “broke” them to a much larger audience. The New Yorker asked if they’d become rock’s “torchbearer.” I recognized similarities between the two bands from seeing them live: both exuded a confidence that comes from both the joy of doing something you love, but also, believing what you are doing, matters. Also, both the War on Drugs and Car Seat Headrest are finding their place in rock’s pantheon without pandering or a nostalgic reworking of something from the genre’s heyday.
Will Toledo leading his band through a set at Seattle’s KEXP. (2015)
I do believe that this tour by Toledo and band represents that time just prior their entrée into a kind of rarified air—the kind that’s a mix of hype and acclaim—when longtime fans (the ones who remember Toledo’s lo-fi recordings) feel conflicted about others now being privy to their “little secret.” But if you are doing anything meaningful—whether as a writer, a musician, or some other type of artist—you want your work out there to a larger audience.
If you haven’t seen them and you still care about the future of rock and roll, then by all means, try to see them soon—because they are surely going to be one of the “next big things.” And btw, the current ideation of Toledo’s band is unbelievable!
[Toledo, dedicating songs to his “haters”]
[Naked Car Giant Seat Headrest-Indie Supergroup]