How's this for a back-story for a band? Alaina Moore and Patrick Riley met while studying philosophy in Denver. The two agreed that upon graduating they would sell their collective possessions and leave their previous lives behind. They bought a small sailboat and set out to spend a year living abroad and traveling exclusively under sail.
For years this dream was carefully nurtured while preparations were made. They did not want their perception of the world to be shaped by spreadsheets, or facts gleaned from classrooms. They claim they wanted a life of experience unmediated by people and things.
Voyaging along the North Atlantic coastline for seven months at an average speed of five miles an hour lends itself to reordering one's priorities. On a sailboat, efficiency gives rise to minimalism. There were no schedules, no agendas, none of the many other concerns that come with modern life. Cell phones, television, household appliances, the conveniences of modern life were traded for simplicity and contentment, a return to evenings spent indulging in the profound silence of the remotest regions, a life of intimate participation with their environment.
The long way is the beautiful way. The hard way is the most rewarding.
Two years after completing their 2,500 nautical mile voyage, Moore and Riley sought out a new endeavor, and formed a band called Tennis. Last night, Tennis played at The Earl in Atlanta.
It was the first show I've seen there this year, and it was quite the occasion: Moore, originally from Atlanta, was playing her home town for the first time. One sister was in the audience, although her other sisters were still too young to attend a 21-and-over set at a nightclub. Moore took a couple opportunities to tease her little sister from the stage, saying it was the first time she's seen her (legally) with a beer in her hand, while she and Riley breezed through cuddly pop songs about the sheer loveliness of life.
Blair, a three-piece fronted by a young woman of the same name, opened the evening. Originally from New Orleans, it was her first time playing in Atlanta as well. Blair took the stage is green pants and a Nirvana t-shirt, and proceeded to play a short set of a kind of blues-influenced but sunny pop. Listen to her song Hello Halo for a sample of what that might sound like.
Blair were followed by Los Angeles' La Sera, the new side project of Katy Goodman, aka Kickball Katy of the Vivian Girls. Like Blair, La Sera admitted to having never played Atlanta before, and also did not quite play rock per se so much as a type of fuzzy Phil Spector-ish pop. That sound, Goodman's good looks, and her sense of irony are all on display in the video for her song Never Come Around, which you may enjoy once you get past the Dexter-themed creepiness and the occasional disemboweling.
La Sera was followed by Seattle's Say Hi (formerly Say Hi To Your Mom, but don't bring that up to them, it's a tired subject). Say Hi is the solo project of Eric Elbogen, although he was joined by a quite proficient bassist and drummer for last night's gig. It was almost 11 pm by the time La Sera left the stage, and Say Hi took a long, long time to set up and go through their sound check, a surprising attention to detail from a band that has been referred to as "the archangels of lo-fi" (Tennis' Alaina Moore more accurately described them as "next-level musicians" during her set). Although still rooted in pop, their music was quirkier and darker than that of any of the evening's other bands, as exemplified by the song Devils:
Say Hi will play Portland's Mississippi Studio later this month with Blair, but somebody really needs to stage a show with them and Portland's Menomena, a band more musically attuned to their approach than Blair or, for that matter, La Sera.
All of which finally brings us back to Tennis. They didn't take the stage until well after midnight, and immediately thanked everybody for staying up late with them. They played a full set of literally every song they knew, most, with names like Baltimore, South Carolina and Marathon, titled after ports and destinations from their sailing adventures.
'50s much? Before leaving the stage, they apologized that there'd be no encore because they didn't yet know any other songs.
The audience left politely.
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