The first opening band was Portland’s own Corrina Repp, a folky singer-songwriter with a pleasantly husky voice. I’d seen her once before, opening for the Decemberists… and speaking of which, the young lady accompanying her was none other than ex-Decemberist Rachel Blumberg. Not only was she rocking the drums as usual, but also simultaneously playing keyboards. She’s got mad skills, that Rachel. Unfortunately, the same could not be said for the second opening band, Heavenly States. I was expecting another Smog-like acoustic band, but these guys were very loud, high-energy power-pop. The energy - and a bad-ass violinist - were the only things going for them. They were pretty bad. The singer’s awkward stage patter didn’t help.

After a rather excessively long wait (technical troubles, I think), Bill and his band finally made their appearance. The squat hairy drummer, whom I believe is Jim White of Dirty Three, was wearing the same ink-stained shirt he was wearing the last time I saw Smog, last November. It looked like it hadn’t been washed since. There was also a tall skinny female bassist and an electric guitarist who was a dead ringer for Bill Gates. (Perhaps Mr. Gates has many talents we know not of.) Bill himself was wearing a cowboy shirt, unbuttoned enough to show some chest hair (hubba hubba) and jeans. He wore his acoustic guitar up by his chest, as usual.

The first part of the set was all songs from Smog’s latest, “A River Ain’t Too Much to Love.” I like this album, but I have to say that performed live, it’s not very exciting - all the songs are slow and have the same country strum. I was hoping they’d play “The Well” (one of the few non-strummy songs on the album), but no such luck. Jim White is an extremely bad-ass drummer - a little too bad-ass, as his pyrotechnics tended to drown out the simple song structures. Still, he was entertaining to watch. The Bill Gates guitarist is a good addition to the live band, adding little accents and harder sounds when the songs got more rocking…. which they did, as the second part of the setlist was all older songs, including revved-up versions of “Dress Sexy at My Funeral” and “Cold-Blooded Old Times” and the finale, a long jamming rendition of “Let’s Move to the Country.” “Blood Red Bird,” “Vessel in Vain,” and “Anniversary” were some of the other older songs on the setlist. I would’ve liked to hear some of his even older stuff, like “37 Push-Ups,” but I reckon Bill might have eschewed the “lo-fi” part of his back catalogue. Too bad.

Throughout the show, Bill favored us with a full array of his patented weird stage moves, doing little dances, hip-shimmying, going down on his knees, duck-walking, kicking the support on his guitar stand so it twirled around, pacing around the stage. All of these activities were performed with an extremely solemn demeanor, without acknowledging the audience, as if he was practicing rock star moves in his bedroom. He screwed up his face as if in pain while singing some lyrics, ignored some annoying hecklers, and eventually actually smiled a bit, both at the audience and his bandmates. He has a great smile.

The audience probably would have wanted a second encore, but there was a “disco” scheduled for midnight, so we didn’t get one. As we were walking out, my friends - who had been sitting in the back - excitedly pointed out Britt Daniel of Spoon, who was leaving the venue with a lady friend. And that’s all that happened.

I arrived too late to see the first band, Die Monitr Bats, so I never figured out whether that’s “die” as in “cease to live” or “die” as in the German feminine article. Never mind. The next act was Sarah Dougher, who’s one of those artists whose name I’d heard a lot, especially since I moved to Portland five years ago, but I’d never heard her music. She turned out to be a fairly competent folk-rock singer with a strong voice and a really cool guitar (an orange Epiphone hollow-body with a single cutaway, for you gearheads). She wasn’t really doing anything new, but she did it well, and told a cool story about Beth Ditto chewing out the British press for making fun of the size of Missy Elliott’s ass. So then it was time for the main attraction - the Decemberists, playing their last show in Portland before embarking on their fall tour. After a long wait, John Moen came onstage and began thundering out the intro to “The Infanta.” This is the first time I’ve gotten a good look at him, and without his indie-rock glasses, he looks kinda like a burlier version of Nels Cline. This is a good thing. The rest of the band soon followed, along with a four-person horn section (two saxes, two trumpets) and the rockitude began. The band was obviously in high spirits and the set was punctuated by a lot of goofing around, rambling monologues, and general shenanigans. Colin decried the pathetic state of healthcare coverage in the U.S., and a very excited Jenny interrupted his speech to announce that she’d gotten her stolen accordion back. Apparently they’d found a bunch of their nicked gear at Portland Music Company. Don’t shop there.

The setlist was a mix of songs from all of their albums, plus several covers. I had been thinking at the beginning of the show that I’d never heard “Angel, Won’t You Call Me?” (one of my favorite Decemberists songs) performed live, and to my delight, they played it - a “countrified” version, said Colin. Another highlight was Petra’s solo rendering of Fairport Convention’s “Tam Lin,” which she was very nervous about but pulled off splendidly. She did hippie-style dances during the instrumental breaks. Crutchy played the hammer dulcimer dramatically during “For My Own True Love” and everyone sang along with “16 Military Wives.” “I Was Meant for the Stage” culminated with the usual complete chaos, and then it got even more ridiculous as the band covered an ELO song and Colin jumped into the audience and sat down on the floor to tell everyone the tale of Jeff Lynne and his band with two cellos. (Meanwhile, Nate was playing his bass lying on his back.) The last song was the Outfield’s classic “Your Love,” sung by Crutchy in a falsetto. Colin came out to the edge of the stage, directly in front of me, to solo - I stepped back in alarm, thinking he was going to stagedive, but fortunately he didn’t. Eventually Nate was standing on top of his upright bass, Petra appeared to be trying to save her violin from being stepped on, and Colin had blood all over his fingers, presumably from his intense rocking out.

Apart from that, nobody was hurt and everyone went home happy, including me. In fact, I’ve seen the Decemberists six times now and this was definitely the best show of the lot. Since all proceeds from the show went to Beth Ditto, hopefully she now has a tidy lump of cash to pay for her surgery - or maybe one or two stitches, considering how expensive this stuff is. In conclusion, please support universal healthcare. The end.

As with other edge forms that push the limits of a particular form of expression, there is little agreement as to the boundaries of experimental music, even amongst its practitioners. On the one hand, some experimental music is an extension of traditional music, adding unconventional instruments, modifications to instruments, noises, and other novelties to orchestral compositions. At the other extreme, there are performances that most listeners would not characterize as music at all. - Wikipedia.org

There are all different kinds of experimental/avant-garde music, ranging from avant-jazz to musique concrete to avant-garde classical and even avant-folk (such as Six Organs of Admittance and other scions of the new “freak-folk” movement). Experimental music is one of the wellsprings that latter-day rock music draws from - for instance, Velvet Underground violist and producer John Cale got his start playing in the Theater of Eternal Music with avant composers La Monte Young and Tony Conrad. A lot of people dismiss this kind of music as “wanking” or “not music.” That’s their loss. Because, as hard on the ears and brain as it can be, the best experimental music is exciting, beautiful, mystical, mysterious, intense, unpredictable, cathartic, and utterly free from cliche - as much so as the best rock/pop music, and sometimes even more so. These sounds can produce states of mind that no rock band could ever elicit, sending you right into the stratosphere or down into the depths of the earth. It’s like drugs for your ears. There’s nothing else like it.

People who’ve grown up accustomed to highly-structured rock music - in other words, just about everyone in the western world - need to train their ears to listen to this stuff. Some types of experimental music are more accessible to the rock fan than others. I grew up on rock and pop - my first albums were by the Beatles (who were influenced by the tape loops and found sound of experimental music, by the way), but my mom is into avant-garde classical music, so I started my training early. Here are a few experimental albums that I enjoy, and which I think are reasonably accessible.

John Zorn - Naked City Crazed avant-jazz that switches styles every two seconds or so - ranging from very straight jazz to raging noise and screaming, with ridiculous blues, country, and rock interludes… plus the best James Bond theme cover ever. I bought this when I was just out of high school and I still love it. Yamatsuka Eye of the Boredoms provides the shrieks, and bad-ass jazz dudes Bill Frisell and Joey Baron, among others, provide the tunes.

Rhys Chatham - A Rhys Chatham Compendium Lee Ranaldo of Sonic Youth was deeply impressed by one of Chatham’s performances where Chatham played one chord for half an hour. Fortunately, this album is far more accessible and comes closer to “rock” than any of the other albums listed here. Most of the pieces here are edits from longer pieces and a bit unsatisfying, but the full-length, 20-minute “Die Donnergotter” is amazing.

Brise-Glace - When in Vanitas… Jim O’Rourke is known now as a producer and member of Sonic Youth, but back in the day he was one of the rising stars of the experimental scene. On this record, he and several pals, with Steve Albini producing, laid down some intense, almost industrial grooves; Jim then literally sliced the tape up with a razor and spliced it all back together, throwing some “found sound” into the mix. I love this record immensely.

Tony Conrad and Faust - Outside the Dream Syndicate The aforementioned Tony Conrad is a violinist who produces intense, prolonged squalls, layering two or three tones on top of each other, while Kraut-rockers Faust provide minimalist accompaniment. (Apparently Faust have no memory of their 3-day recording session with Conrad… too much dope, I guess.) It’s tough listening to essentially the same riff for half an hour at a time, but after a while it becomes hypnotic and you don’t want it to stop.

Arnold Dreyblatt - Nodal Excitation Dreyblatt invented his own instruments that involved banging or bowing single strings to provide a variety of harmonics. The tracks here sound like someone banging on metal cable, accompanied by miniature piano and hurdy-gurdy. As with Tony Conrad, you’ll either find this boring or hypnotic, or maybe both. You can listen to samples of Dreyblatt’s music on his website.

This is just a microscopic sample of all the experimental music that’s out there. There’s many more artists I want to check out - like free improv masters Derek Bailey and AMM, for instance, and noise pioneer Merzbow. Unfortunately, a lot of experimental stuff is hard to come by. A lot of record stores don’t even have an experimental section, and the albums tend to go out of print quickly. If any of these albums strike your fancy, check out Forced Exposure, which carries most of these titles.

The Decemberists - Picaresque I guess it goes without saying, but I’m going to say it anyway. Not quite as good as Her Majesty, but nevertheless chock-full of the pop goodness and hyper-literary lyrics we’ve come to expect from Portland’s finest.

Spoon - Gimme Fiction I really like the way they always sound like they’re about to rock, but they’re holding back. The resulting tension (and Britt Daniel’s voice) is what makes Spoon so sexy.

Bastro - Antlers Live 1991 I’d say this counts as “new” as it contains unreleased material. Furious instrumental math-rock pounds you between the eyes. Can anyone rock the drums harder than John McEntire? I think not.

Sam Prekop - Who’s Your New Professor? Speaking of sexy, nobody can croon like Sam. Joined by bad-ass rhythm section Josh Abrams and Chad Taylor, Sam has once again created a perfect seduction soundtrack.

Sufjan Stevens - Illinois OK, I was going to write him off because a) he’s trendy with the indie-rock kids and b) he dissed some of my favorite artists (Wilco, Jim O’Rourke, etc.). But this album is epic and fantastic. To hell with nay-saying.

Andrew Bird - Mysterious Production of Eggs Chicago’s most talented violinist/whistler sings about drilling holes in people’s heads and other tangled situations. Wit, charm, eclecticism, and, of course, whistling make for an unclassifiable delight.

Smog - A River Ain’t Too Much to Love I could listen to Bill Callahan sing about poop. Here he muses on sorrow, love, war, and redemption in his inimitable baritone - and he actually sounds a bit hopeful for once.

Son Volt - Okemah and the Melody of Riot Jay Farrar revives his rock persona for some more stolid roots-rock. No surprises here, except for some unusually political lyrics, but it’s good comfort food.

Iron & Wine - Woman King It’s just an EP, but whatever. Sam Beam has yet to disappoint me.

Hopefully the second half of 2005 will be as good as the first half. We shall see.