Songwriters: Chris Taylor, Edward Droste
Original Release: Veckatimest
Year: 2009
Definitive Version: Late Night with Jimmy Fallon, 2009
As I’ve mentioned, I don’t
watch TV. Don’t get me wrong: I’m not an anti-TV snob or anything like that. It
just currently doesn’t fit into my life.
I had cable, including HBO,
until I moved to Chicago in 2005. Laurie didn’t have cable, and I usually was
in front of my computer, which lends itself more to music or the radio (and now
the Steve Dahl Podcast Network), so I didn’t watch much, and I soon learned
that I didn’t miss TV. With more stuff than ever online, it’s not even really
an issue any more.
But every once in a while,
usually when Laurie is gone, I might turn on the TV to veg out a bit. Typically,
I put on a movie, but in June 2009, I flipped around the broadcast channels and
stopped when I hit Late Night. Unlike when it was Dave vs. Jay, I didn’t have a
horse in the recent late-night wars, so I didn’t care either way, and I can’t
say I had much interest one way or the other in Jimmy Fallon.
But as soon as I turned to
his show, Grizzly Bear started into this song, and it was hypnotic. The way the
stage was set up with the lighting and the sound of this song drew me in; it
sounded like a perfect late-night song.
But moreso, it reminded me
of one of me and Laurie’s favorite bars—Sylvie’s. Sylvie’s is a quintessential
Chicago neighborhood bar for the most part, except that several years ago,
Sylvie bought the space next door and expanded, so now it has two rooms—one for
live music and one for drinking and darts.
Laurie always liked going
there and knew Sylvie somewhat, so that became the place we’d go to play darts
when we had such a hankering. Sylvie always kept two sets of darts—the real
cheapy ones with the bright-colored solid-plastic fins—behind the bar for those
who didn’t have their own. (Sylvie’s is a serious darts bar, as all the
trophies on the wall attest, but Laurie and I aren’t serious darts players.)
For $2, plus leaving behind
your driver’s license, you can rent the darts for as long as you set your mind
to it. We’d play several games, usually a best-of-five, of 301 and maybe some
cricket after we finished with the 301, all the while listening to the live
music in the next room and drinking cheap beer—Old Style for me.
The bands usually were
rockabilly and almost always never very good. If you were good, you played
someplace better, like Shuba’s or the Double Door. But one night, the
late-night post-headliner act was a trance band that played superspacey
guitar-based instrumental music. It was completely out of character from the
previous band and the usual acts, and they sounded great. It actually fit the
vibe of the dart room, with its brighter overhead fluorescent lighting and stark,
two-table furnishings. We never heard a band like that at Sylvie’s since.
So when I stumbled across
Grizzly Bear that night, I immediately was struck by the sensibility of the
music. It harkened very much to that night at Sylvie’s, even though, of course,
Grizzly Bear is a far more straightforward rock band. The next day, I went to
the all-knowing Internet to help me determine who it was that I stumbled across
the night before.
I didn’t buy Veckatimist—the
recordings didn’t match the sound of the live versions I heard—but I became a
fan anyway. In fact, I have tickets to see Grizzly Bear in September, when Laurie and I surely will be the oldest and least hipstery people in the audience, and I
will buy their new album when it comes out that month.
And all because I happened
to turn on the TV one night.
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