Whitehorse, Crescent Ballroom, 11/27/12
Then I realized how this relationship works: every night of their tour, The Other Whitehorse is revisiting their vows, as they seem to be written into their songs anyway. Every night is a honeymoon night for The Other Whitehorse, spent between pristine hotel sheets and just as magic as their first time and all of this made me hate them. I'm sorry, that's my own broken humanness to this, but duh, I'm jealous. Anyone would be.
When they played the drums together, for example, it was this sickly sweet sort of festival of how well they get along and work together and never argue and it was too perfect. And worst of all, it sounded wonderful because The Other Whitehorse are both talented musicians. Luke is excellent at guitar, especially his bluesy solos that were scattered between songs. It was elaborate and detailed and so much more than some lame acoustic nothing-but-Spanish-guitars thing I was half-expecting.
The only (admittedly lame) thing to complain about was there was far too much storytelling. I can agree to some banter, but when you're interrupting songs and then starting them over, as The Other Whitehorse did at least twice, it gets a little old, especially when the banter is about cats and running marathons and whatever else.
In the end, I'm just a bitter, aging critic and I fit in at an acoustic coffeeshop rock rip-off as well as I do wearing glasses and trying to mosh at a sludge metal show. My scene is truly some IDM performance where I get fucked up on designer drugs and can't move the next day. But Whitehorse is a great band and their fans aren't wrong and I'm OK with that. The same goes for my girlfriend, who I maybe sometimes sort of fight with, but I still love her and I don't want it to be some sort of candy-coated love fest with endless honeymoons and all that. I just want what I have, something authentic and true and I'm grateful for it.
P.S Maybe to settle the whole name thing, the two bands should have a knife fight. Or, The Other Whitehorse, as they seem much younger, could change their name. Suggestions: Thesaurus, I Don't Know How To Google, Cute As A Button, Whitehorse II: The Revenge.
I wanted to tell the Sludge Whitehorse to rename themselves Puppy Bacon, Cervical Tumor, Septic Worms or Salmonella. They didn't take my suggestions and all of these names are still available, so get cracking! Someone should name their band at least one of these.
Last Night: Whitehorse, Lonna Kelly at Crescent Ballroom
The Crowd: A few white haired folks that may or may not be Canadian, but they certainly gave me the impression they had interesting conversations to share with me about granola and feminism.
Overheard: "I woke up in the tub, my pants around my ankles and I was caked in shit." (I swear I heard this. I fucking swear. And I hope he reads this and learns a lesson.)
Best T-Shirt: Mine. This isn't ego, this is just a fact. Plus, I had zero competition. Let me remind you, it was a white horse skull with centipedes crawling out the eyes. Fucking brutal.
Random Notebook Dump: Dear Crescent: The sangria you made tasted like Christmas. Love, my liver.