It's raining today. No sun. Shaking angly tree branches. Impenetrable sky rising up out of the ground. Hourless glide from late morning to dusk. I've been in bed all afternoon, admitting how sick I've gotten over the last week. Fucking autumn: always makes me think of Portland.
Portland used to be my girl. Well... Portland used to be the girl I wanted to be my girl. An indie rock princess, a Bob Dylan song, hair in the wind, tentative smile and the night coming. Rain jackets and the illimitable future. But that girl isn't all that great. Amend that: she is all that great, but far more trouble than she's worth. Also, she's not a fantasy - just, I was shocked to discover, a human being. It also turns out that Portland isn't quite what I imagined.
Apparently I got a little turned around in all those clouds and distorted power chords. Thought I had her but it wasn't her at all. So Portland of me to take the ideal for the reality. Portland is not that scarf-wearing girl. Portland is the young man who loves her, who seeks and entices her. He is the lonesome hopeful loser. That failure of a skyline, that God-sent river. So much to build on, but what are you building, Portland? You self-deprecating aesthete. You appreciator.
This band, The Shaky Hands, whose members may come from anywhere at all, calls Portland home. Fair enough - they couldn't fit their city better. Not quite artists, but lovers of art. Smart, creative even, but no geniuses. A little innocent, somehow - they like good bands but can't quite get those wings flapping. The Velvet Underground on "Wake the Breathing Light" (also: is "Oh No" the poor man's "Oh, Sweet Nothing" on purpose, or just by accident?), The Stones here and there and also a little Strokes ("You're the Light"). Toss in some Clap Your Hands Say Yeah. There's even a couple Radiohead moments ("Air Better Come"'s percussive beginning and mumbly middle).
But...what are The Shaky Hands about? Having fun. Making pretty and occasionally odd things. Not much else, outside of some alienated lyrics. All that said, they're a genuinely fun listen. You want adventure and weirdos? You want the vice and the trees and the day and the night? Portland is your town. But despite our claims of being THE FUTURE, Portland is a town of human beings. Decent ones, not great ones. A democratic town, a mountain and ocean and valley town. This music makes me want to get up out of this bed and shimmy down through the rain to the nearest windowless bar. Then on to the campaign rally. (See "Loosen Up", but really almost the entire album, if you're in the right mood). But it won't change my life or anyone else's. It won't even change rock and roll.
Shit, though, I can't keep knifing this album. It's just good. A little dark and murky. A little giddy. Some great lines (more bad ones though - that's the way with these flannel-wearing decent persons. Hit and miss and hit and miss and miss and miss): "Feeble hearts live long, you know. / But I'm feelin' strong!" or something like that. Cool, right? But lost in a fog of "I've had it good, I've had it bad"s. Straight PDX. We like the real shit, but we're too busy living high-quality lives to dwell on it. Last real successful band we produced was...Everclear?
Well, this band is ten times as good as Everclear, and I even like that first hit about the big black boots. The Shaky Hands are my hometown through and through, depressed and gleeful and adult, sensible in the fucked-up way and vice versa. You will like this album for a while.
See also
Please Explain The Name Of This Album To Me. Anyone.
