Why I Saw The Rolling Stones on their Zip Code Tour (2015)

The Rolling Stones played Comerica Park in Detroit last Wednesday for the first time in 10 years. There's no denying the gravity of that fact. For some, that was reason enough to attend. For others, like me, it needed to be something. It needed to be a show worth seeing.       

In all fairness, I will concede that there is seemingly no good reason to see The Rolling Stones live in 2015. Or so I thought, until about a month ago.

See, I'm a big, big fan. As a throwback Millennial, I understand and honor the legacy — and perhaps most importantly, the historical significance — of a band like The Stones. I grew up with the catalog hits. All of them. From "Gimme Shelter" to "Wild Horses," I was conditioned with a solid awareness that The Rolling Stones were "a great band." And, while I acknowledge the awesome and overwhelming power of their position in modern music, I cannot accept this as a good enough reason to see them perform.

But something about The Stones changed for me, and at just the right time. Suddenly, they were no longer "the band that plays Sympathy for the Devil," or "Mick Jagger, Keith Richards, and others." They became for me what they've always been for the rest of you: The Rolling Stones, creators of an iconic and game-changing style of writing and performance. They became the artists behind "Torn and Frayed," "Salt of the Earth," "Monkey Man," "Ventilator Blues." In other words, I finally got it. So, we picked up some last-minute tickets, and off we went.

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As a great, big rock 'n' roll band still active 50 years from their debut, The Stones run the risk of becoming musty dusty museum relics, fit for nothing more than bragging rights. "Yeah, I saw The Rolling Stones before they all died." Aging is inevitable. Aging with dignity, in their world, is a choice. Sadly, as we all know, some monumental acts refuse to let go (The Who, anybody?). And so we witness the long and ugly death knell of The Decline.

I'm happy (and quite relieved) to say that, with The Stones, this is not yet the case. If you were at Comerica on Wednesday, you saw something raw, mysterious, and emotional. An ancient power, blasting through its likewise ancient arsenal with ferocity and verve. It was, in a way, a shocking event. It was exhibitionism if ever I saw it — a perfect complement to their gallery exhibition set to appear in London in April of 2016. Swan song or not, it was a fantastic show, and a loud-and-clear reminder that The Rolling Stones are alive and well and better than ever, and will not go gentle, etc., etc.

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I enjoyed the concert, and I'm glad I went. It wasn't a chance to see The Rolling Stones before they burn out; it was a chance to see a seasoned group of musicians who know exactly what the hell they're doing. And they do it well.

I'll end with a quick top 10 of my favorites. Enjoy!

1. Torn and Frayed

2. Gimme Shelter

3. Sweet Virginia

4. Loving Cup

5. 2000 Light Years from Home

6. Stray Cat Blues

7. Soul Survivor

8. Street Fighting Man

9. Miss You

10. Salt of the Earth    

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The Moondoggies

It may not be difficult to find an indie-folk band worth listening to today. It’s a lot less difficult if you’re willing to trudge through the cliches and lyrical buzzwords that now unfortunately overwhelm the genre.  But if you’re looking for music inherently melancholic, reinforced with a kind of compositional purity and substance lacking in the mood and mission of most groups (think Mumford and Sons), it can be a challenge. The payoff? Music that’s more than cheap melodies and recycled ballads — music more than music. 

     

via www.hardlyart.com

The Moondoggies, out of Everett, Washington, come together as what I like to call “that dreary force that will fill the silence.” You’ll read elsewhere that they fit the urban-folk rock genre, or something along the lines of rustic and “vintage,” in league with Fleet Foxes or Grizzly Bear — broad strokes of Americana with surges of Indie. But there’s something not as easily identifiable about the group. And that translates to something not so normal. Only really good bands can impart real feelings, powerfully and even oversaturated, through their music. For this reason, The Moondoggies will grow and change, fast.     

Jumping into Adios I’m a Ghost, you’ll notice two things: first, the exchange between the tempo and the shade; second, the way you feel about its content, which will likely be complicated. While the bleakness is both soothing and haunting, there are moments of rigid, almost contextually absurd brightness and, let’s say, rejuvenation. And it might take some time to be okay with that contrast.   

  

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Sorrow is a potent method to use for approaching absence and regrowth. That’s what this album is about — coming out of existing in the background. It’s about feeling that something isn’t quite right, and being okay with that. And the big picture of their music? An irrational hope that things are moving and changing, but a blunt understanding that in fact nothing is changing, or things are changing too slow to notice. It takes force and subtlety, at exactly the right moments, to pull that off.

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It might be worth listening to The Moondoggies, because they offer more than what you can usually take away from an all-around pretty good folk band. It’s poetry; effective and clear, but maybe not so loud.