First of all, do not call Thurston Moore's music "soft rock." Even if he takes the stage at The Goat Farm with a harp player (an actual harp, not a blues harmonica), a violinist, a backup acoustic guitarist, a drummer, and no bass, please make the distinction between an avant post-hardcore string ensemble and a soft-rock, pop band, and if you're having trouble identifying the difference, Mr. Moore will unleash a surprising barrage of squealing feedback from his guitar to assist you in your effort.
This, then, is my photo essay on last Wednesday's concert by Thurston Moore at Atlanta's exemplary Goat Farm art community. The concert was held in the Rodriguez Room, the same building where gloATL hold their dance events. The building is a two-story, gable-roofed, 60-by-140-foot rectangular brick structure that was first built in 1899 and enlarged in 1911. The interior is an open space
spanned by wooden roof trusses that have been darkened with smoke and
soot when the building was used as a
foundry. The building has been subsequently used for warehousing, machine-part spray painting and assembly, and as a welding shop.
Between 1899 and 1911, the building was flanked to the north and east by
one-story brick sheds used for rattling, grinding, finishing, and pattern
storage. These sheds were demolished
when the building was enlarged in 1911.
But already, I've gone off-track by a full century. But there must be something about the building - it was almost a sixth member of Mr. Moore's ensemble - that rendered the crowd one of the most attentive audiences I've ever been a part of at a rock concert. There were moments between songs that were so quiet you could hear, if not quite a pin dropping, the clinking of beer bottles at the bar. Part of it, to be sure, was Mr. Moore's mastery of the material he was presenting, but part of it was also the special ambiance of the venue.
Mr. Moore performed material from his excellent new solo album, Demolished Thoughts, as well as his previous solo efforts, Psychic Hearts and Trees Outside The Academy. The evening also included some free improvisation and a couple poetry recitations by Mr. Moore, and an arty, almost Warholian film by Rose, a so-called "bicoastal chick," projected behind him. In between songs, his banter reminisced about topics ranging from the technological possibilities of microphones in the 21st Century to the prodigious drinking abilities of the band Guided By Voices.
Mr. Moore and I share the same birthday - July 25; he was born in Coral Gables on my fourth birthday, although he grew up in Connecticut and will be forever associated with downtown Manhattan post-punk scene of the late 70s and 80s. I was living in Levittown, Long Island when he was born, and during the late 70s and 80s, while Mr. Moore was making the Lower East Side safe for art, I was a college student in Boston and, later, starting my own career in Atlanta, Georgia (of all places).
If I haven't mentioned it yet, the show was incredible - tasteful and thought-provoking, with some Velvet Underground drone and occasional explorations of free-form improvisation mixed in among the more structured songs of Mr. Moore's recent output. One wouldn't think that an acoustic guitar could make that much noise, but apparently, if you run the line from the microphone through the right pedals and then stomp on said peddles, as Mr. Moore does at about the 47:00-minute mark below, you can create enormous, block-busting bursts of sonic distortion that can melt the audience's faces. Here, then, is a video of the entire performance (listen for yourself, don't let me be the final arbiter), thanks to a YouTube upload by a certain Mister Lettuce.
If you want to see what pictures of the concert taken by professionals look like, check out this gallery posted by Prefix Magazine to Facebook, or this gallery posted at the Atlanta Music Guide website.
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