He goes to the desert, points his rifle to the sky and says “God if I have to die, you will have to die”
Modest Mouse Two Night Stand Detroit 2018. Vol 1.
May of 2018 was an exciting time, the Redsox were in full swing, staring down the barrel of a historic season. Already giving the sense that this was going to be their year. The rock and roll schedule was shaping up to be just the same. I was free falling into a give no fucks attitude. Fiscal responsibility was for the weak, I’ve worked too hard for too long not to reap the fruits of my labor. Eat, drink and be merry for tomorrow we die. Masking the depression and despondency I dealt with privately, I was done with trying to be responsible, I was going to see all the shows and put on a fake smile and see how close to the edge I could take it. Thanks to hearty unsolicited credit limit increases, I was hell bent on living beyond my means in the name of rock and roll. I earned it. They say money can’t buy happiness, but it certainly buys concert tickets, and drugs, and libations.
So when Modest Mouse announced a two night stand at the State Theater I didn’t think twice about scoring tickets to both gigs. One of my favorite bands, it was a no brainer.
In my humble opinion Issac Brock is one of the top five lyricists of our generation. Lyrics that are clever, and resonate deep within my soul. Musically they are up there as well. Indie giants, that infuse punk, Americana, metal, into their signature sound. Their entire catalog has been a cornerstone to my very foundation, always being a comforting call back in good times and bad. Isaac seemed to find the beauty in misery and expresses it so well. Which is a skill I admire so much in any artistic outlet.
People will say it is always hit or miss seeing them live, depending on how fucked up Isaac is on a given night, the show could go either way. I really dig that however, being a gambling man, the crapshoot of what kind of performance you are going to get is excitement like no other. The humanization that accompanies a performer too far gone is also something I’ve always appreciated. When done correctly it really brings a sense of raw and authenticity to the stage. Of course, it can sound like shit, I’ve seen many shows where the performer can’t handle whatever drug of choice they’ve over indulged in, and it translates like shit. Isaac however has a sense of magic in his degeneracy that makes the show worthwhile every time. It’s very punk rock.
It wasn’t the first time I would be seeing them. Having caught them in Boston with Gene Ween in 15, and a co headlining jaunt with Emo predators Brand New, and another headlining gig previously. But the excitement never flails when they are on my itinerary, they had already solidified themselves as one of my favorite bands to see live. Regardless of which state of sobriety Issac is in.
Whenever a band books two nights in your city you are best served going to both nights. Unless it’s some monster corporate act selling out stadiums, you can almost guarantee it’s going to be two different sets, and you’ll find yourself bummed you missed out. Advice I am familiar with and didn’t listen to myself later that year when Nine Inch Nails booked two nights at The Fox, and I only got tickets for the second night. Instantly regretting it upon seeing the Setlist from the first night. And again in 19 on the Raconteurs Help Us Strangers tour when I just got tickets for the first night. Damned if you do, damned if you don’t. Lessons learned.
I recruited my long time concert buddy Julie to roll with one night one. She would always drive, allowing me to have no restraint in my trips to the bar. So I twisted up a few bones and slammed a couple tall boys on the way to her place. To lay a firm foundation for the gig.
By this point in time I had stopped caring about opening acts for the most part, opting to spend those stage slots bouncing between the outdoor smoking section and the bar. I quickly found Autum, my buddy’s friend that worked the bar, who had a predilection for pouring heavy handed long islands. Making haste to the porch with drinks in hand to fire up a bone. We smoked one down and I started chatting up every poor sap that would listen to whatever bullshit I was spewing in the name of guerilla comedy. Impromptu rants in an effort to get chuckles from whoever would listen. This would generally go pretty well. Never encroaching into overtly offensive hot takes, and stroking my ego from the response of bystanders while sharing whatever grass I was burning.
It was getting close to showtime so we went back in and I grabbed a couple more drinks, with a solid buzz in tow.
The Setlist was stellar, opening the show with Dramamine, it set the tone for what was bound to be a great time. We had decent view of the stage, and I was locked in as they plowed through, playing killer cuts, including Black Cadillacs, Shit in your cut, Satin in a coffin, This Devil’s Workday, all before rolling into a personal anthem of mine Cowboy Dan. It had been the first time I saw them play it live and I went nuts as the emotion coming from the stage was dark, ominous, and intense. They jammed on it hard as the crowd felt the intensity from the band, Issac channeling demons from within.
The show didn’t let up from there as they went into 3rd Planet, Wicked Campaign, Tiny Cities and The world at Large before exiting the stage. The crowd worked up into a frenzy. I was excited because it appeared as though Float On might not be played. Arguably their worst catalog cut, the set was near perfect and ruining it with that radio staple would put a bit of a damper on the show.
The band came back and busted out another deep cut by way of Talking Shit about a Pretty Sunset, another track that is high on my list of personal favorites, by God I thought, this may be the best set I’ve seen yet from these guys. They went into Parting of the Sensory and into Put of Gas before closing it out with a blistering take on The Whale Song.
Still trying to wrap my head around the night’s performance the buzz kicked up a notch from the adrenaline knowing I was going to run it back tomorrow. Wondering what kind of magic will be in store for the rubber match of the two game set.
We set sail for the suburbs and I closed down the night in my garage with a few more beers and some more reefer to cool down the racing adrenaline. I had the next day off and tommorrow night will be here in no time.
To be continued.