SHELLAC ATTACK

 

It's more than a little weird to think that up until last week, I hadn't been to a club show since October of 2019.  Thanks to our pal COVID-19, the last show I saw was Michale Graves at Holy Diver in Sacramento, CA, playing songs from the Misfits albums he sang on.  While it was fun at the time, it ultimately ended up leaving a pretty bad taste in my mouth for the last few years after finding out that he's a tiki torch waving dipshit.

Anyway, since moving from California to Nevada to Oregon, I've seen listings online for a number of shows that've piqued my interest, but nothing I would consider must see, that is until I saw that the goddamn mighty Shellac would be playing a string of West Coast dates, including three nights at Mississippi Studios in Portland.  If you're familiar with the band, you'll know that live shows are few and far between (if you're not familiar with the band, well, I just told you) and this was something I definitely could not miss.

After talking my wife into going with me and a little mix-up involving me purchasing tickets for the wrong day (which the kind folks at Etix helped me to rectify) I was able to secure spots for the September 2nd date.  I was both nervous and excited pretty much from the time I bought the tickets until we got to venue; over two years of not going to shows had caused me to develop some pretty hefty anxiety about the thought of going back, in spite having attended dozens of gigs over the years.

But all my anxiety melted away upon arriving at the venue.  Mississippi Studios is a small, intimate space that reminded me of the now-defunct Vaudeville Mews, a club in Des Moines, Iowa where I met my wife for the first time.  Not being familiar with the area, we arrived quite early in order to get our bearings and find parking, and were pleasantly surprised to find that the venue had a bar and restaurant with a large patio attached.  We quickly grabbed beers and some outdoor seating and settled in for some people (and more importantly dog) watching.  The weather was great, the beer was cold and everyone was extremely friendly; you can't ask for much more than that.

Once the doors to venue opened we made our way back inside and upstairs to find some seats, because we're old and out of shape and if I stand at shows for long periods of time, my back and knees get really pissed off at me.  Once again we settled in and eagerly awaited the start of the show.

Shortly after the opening act finished up, Shellac made their way to the stage.  The band wasted no time in unleashing a surgical assault of killer tunes, mainly pulling from 2014's Dude Incredible and their 1994 debut full length At Action Park, as well as tracks from their early seven inches.  As soon as they started playing, I in turn started smiling; whatever vestiges of my nervousness and anxiety were still lingering about had fully transformed into pure joy.  It was like my brain suddenly remembered the magic of live music and went into endorphin overload.

I'd tell you about the highlights of Shellac's set, but the truth is the whole damn thing was one giant highlight.  I know that might sound like hyperbole, but I mean, this was my first show back in over two years, seeing a band that I never thought I'd get to see and they were absolutely incredible from start to finish.  If I had to pick though, I'd say the epic/hilarious/disturbing "Wingwalker" and the apocalyptic set-closer "The End of Radio" were probably my favorite moments of the night, followed closely by renditions of "A Minute" "Compliant" "Riding Bikes," shit, if I'm not careful I'm going to name every fucking song, because the show was just that good.

Indeed, the trio of guitarist/vocalist Steve Albini, drummer Todd Trainer and bassist/vocalist Bob Weston played like a well-oiled machine (music journalism cliche red alert), powering through their set with precision, occasionally stopping for the between-song Q&A sessions they've become known for over the years; my favorite part of this was when someone asked where their merch was and Weston replied with "Back in Chicago."  The mood was jovial and the band seemed to be enjoying themselves, but as soon as they launched into a series of songs, it was all business; my wife said it best as we were walking out of the venue "They just came to play and have fun."

Speaking of Steve Albini, I'm typically not one to get star-struck, but seeing him perform in person felt a bit surreal, since I've built him up in my mind as a legend/cult figure over the course of almost thirty years; keep in mind that I was like eight years old when Albini's first band Big Black released the classic Songs About Fucking, so like most fans in my age group, my first exposure to the man was as the sharp-tongued producer of Nirvana's In Utero.  Just a year later Shellac's debut would come out and blow my teenage mind.  He'd probably hate being referred to as a legend/cult figure, but he's one of those artists that has repeatedly struck a chord with me over the years, much in the same way that Glenn Danzig, Henry Rollins and Ian MacKaye have.  Sorry Steve, but it was super cool to get to see you do your thing in person after all these years, so please pardon my gushing.

All in all, Shellac were simply amazing and I don't think I could've asked for a better return to going to shows.  Not only did I get to cross off a bucket list band, I got to rid myself of the anxiety I had built up over two years of not partaking in live music.  It wasn't just a great show for me, it was a testament to the healing power of music.