Rams taint live October 15
So, back in March V and Hector and I did the unthinkable and trekked to NoVA for a concert. Specifically, we went to something called the “State Theater” (which I presume is just some retro-eastern-bloc-kitsch and is, in fact, a privately operated, for-profit venue) in a place called “Falls Church” (which is indistinguishable from the rest of NoVA, all strip malls and parking lots.) It was unseasonably cold and we were underdressed for the long line to get in. We walked in on the opener, Mixel Pixel and, basically unimpressed, proceeded to the balcony. Now, the State Theater was essentially a huge high school auditorium, at least by feel. We were in slightly lousy moods when we got there and the venue didn’t seem like it would facilitate a good time for us overall, but when Grand Buffet took the stage their energy and hilarity were infectious enough that we were all kind of grooving and giggling in our seats by the time the headlining “of Montreal” went on. The scene was electric, one of the best concerts I’ve ever seen, in all honesty, and so when we heard they were coming back through we were stoked. We would not miss it.
Woe unto thee who disregards this lesson: the people who run Ram’s Head Live worship some unholy abortion of a god. Rather than a blastingly-loud, psychedelic explosion, the scene we found reminded me of nothing more than little-loved or -remembered Disney Channel claptrap “Kids Incorporated.” You might throw a bit of the Peach Pit or the Bronze in there, but the net result is one of feeling like you’re on a movie set of what some asshole producer thinks a concert venue would be like. Fucking Sham’s Head Live.
First of all, it’s in this section of Baltimore beyond the stadiums (only parts of Baltimore I’ve ever really seen) around the Inner Harbor. This is ultra-gentrified Baltimore, you walk right past the ESPN Zone and the Houlihan’s and the Barnes and Noble. It’s right across from a McD’s, Rams Blood Live is. It was Sunday night, so (thankfully, I’d guess) it was dead around there, but it had the feel of visiting a theme park in the extreme off-season or something. You know how sometimes you can feel the energy in the air before a big event? This was the opposite of that. Anyway, again we walk in on the opener, MGMT this time, who are reasonable enough. We explore the place - I had been told already, but there’s really no preparing yourself for what happens when they just tack on a bar and a goddamned restaurant on the second floor. It’s laid out all wonky, the area in front of the stage is too small, everything is much too new and sterile, there are these weird huge flatscreen monitors all over the fucking place showing me what’s going on on stage. I will never fucking complain about the 9:30 or Black Cat ever again, jesus. This place is designed so that everyone can sit down and eat wing dings and things (right Bob?) and watch the show on the goddamned tv. It’s repellent. Anyway, Grand Buffet went on, and try as they might, the crowd just couldn’t feel it like last time - I still pretty much love those guys, they’re really excellent (and they love Sprite, so you know they’re down with youthful energy) but it wasn’t nearly as awesome as last time. They were spot-on when they described the joint as “kind of like a really rocking food court.”
Then Of Montreal made me want to rip my hair out. I swear to god for the first four songs you couldn’t hear Kevin’s guitar at all. It’s sort of an important element of their songs, see, actually pretty critical. The sound was fucked for the whole show, you could make out his vocals, the bass, and the keys. The drum machine was coming through pretty well, but even when he sat down at the fucking kit you couldn’t hear. The sound overall was about 1/4th as loud as it should have been. And, best part, no guitars! Even the lead guy’s was really fucking quiet - you could only get your guitar fix when the keyboard chick played hers (this is much less than an ideal situation, I’m telling you.) So, basically, we drove to Baltimore and wasted six or so hours of our life and 20+ dollars each (thanks to that sweet Ticketmaster fuck-you-in-the-ass charge) to watch two good acts try and fail miserably to breathe some legitimate life into a fundamentally dead, plastic, fake place. It was a depressing failure of a show, I just tell you so you’re aware, no shows at Ram’s Head Live, never, it will suck.