There are plenty of reasons to not like The Hold Steady. I’ve heard numerous friends have a similar experience to mine on first listening: turning off the album before it finished and in a confused stupor, ask “is that really what everyone is talking about?” It was Separation Sunday for me, and I actually even went as far as to give “Stevie Nix” a one-star in my iTunes. The classic-rock guitar riffs, the annoying singer who has a sing-talk style that seems like a gimmick that doesn’t even work on that level, and even the professional but anonymous rhythm section.
It was one of my all-time worst snap judgements in my music listening life (the other worst was walking out of The National because we were there to see opener Clap Your Hands Say Yeah! But in my defense, “Secret Meeting” is a pretty lame song and not the best introductory material). But in the time since that first attempt to appreciate Separation Sunday – the rediscovery of the band through Boys and Girls in America, the first live show, and the slow conversion of pretty much everyone I know to Hold-Steady-fans – there has always been a suspicion within me that something was wrong with the band or more likely, something wrong with liking the band. They almost seemed too perfect. There is Craig Finn’s lyrics, which are smart, funny, intriguing, dangerous and real. There is the professionalism of Tad Kubler and the rest of the band, which was so much more than competence, but straight chops at every instrument, something that so much in the independent music scene seriously lacked. There were the shows, which felt like going to church and the neighborhood bar at the same time. And the best thing about it: they never seemed to grow in popularity, always selling out small clubs but never growing to the point of losing their intimacy with their fans, or seemingly, with each other.
But in the last year, the chinks in the armor that I knew must exist, did indeed start to show. The departure of Franz Nicolay took something vibrant out of their live sets (thought the band refuses to admit it). He was an attention magnet, which was perfect to foil to the also captivating Finn. Without Nicolay, the assault that Finn unleashes through his singing can be overwhelming, even repetitive. Then there was the recent record, released in May, called Heaven Is Whenever.
I recently read an article in the A.V. Club that was advice about what The Hold Steady needs to do going forward. But without getting into the article, the initial stance is the same thing that I have heard from a number of critics/fans: it’s not bad, it’s just not as good as expected. The Hold Steady, for all their working class, bar band swagger have also carved out a niche as indie darlings, to the point where they are expected to produce art… consistently. This album has a few great numbers, but mostly offers forgettable tunes that don’t even serve as good filler. It is a record that has not come off my shelf since May, and that’s a shame, as the biggest fear is that they are reaching that aging state where nothing will ever really satisfy us fans again.
But if Saturday’s show left me with a dominant emotion, it was relief. It is one thing to make a record that is below expectations. It is another thing to not know it is flawed. Though I haven’t read anything about their feelings now that there is some ground between them and the album, look at the setlist and draw your own conclusions. This is supposed to be the Heaven is Whenever tour, at least that’s what my photo pass says. Yet only four songs from the record made the set.
Granted, this wasn’t a typical headlining gig. The band played the downtown San Diego fortress venue as the headliner for local radio station 94.9’s anniversary party. I know nothing about the station, but the other bands on the bill weren’t exactly seat fillers (New Politics, Company of Thieves) and it felt like people were either there for the headliners or just there to support the radio station.
But a little research shows this setlist to be a running trend with recent sets, with about half of the recent collection being ignored live. Which is fine by me, as the band completely chose the right songs to hold onto. This also meant we got seven Separation Sunday songs, including raging versions of “Chicago Seemed Tired Last Night” and “Cattle and the Creeping Things,” both of which never appeared in the four or so times I had previously taken them in live. Also in the set were “Positive Jam” and “The Swish” from Almost Killed Me, the first, and sometimes forgotten, record. Older tracks like these often are weeded out by the new ones, which is unfortunate if the new songs aren’t that great. But in honesty, The Hold Steady seems to know exactly who they are, where their strengths lie and what people want to hear, as their setlist could have been the tracklisting from a Best of The Hold Steady mix-tape. And one thing they have going for them is that they are the type of band who could never get all their good songs into one show or on one cd.
But while the music was spot-on, the most glaring issue with the famed live sets that The Hold Steady puts on is exactly that: the spectacle of it. The first time you see The Hold Steady, you will be caught off-guard and swept up in the masculine love-fest that erupts. The fifth time you see them, it all becomes sort of predictable. Not that it is not a blast, but I guess like any great thing, you begin to want more. For one, Finn rarely speaks to the crowd and when he does it is rehearsed segways and offer nothing in terms of connection to the audience. The transition from “Massive Nights” to “The Weekenders” was seamless, and at the end of “How A Resurrection Really Feels,” Finn makes sure you understand the song, by repeating “That’s how a resurrection really feels.” At some point he will also say “stay positive (your city here).” One of the joys of live concerts is that you are in the same room with artists creating art on the spot. When they keep their person so tight to vest, it defeats the purpose of appearing at all. You could argue that Finn wants to make the Hold Steady show about the Hold Steady music and he saves the rest for interviews, but it would be nice for a middle-ground to be found, and not simply a shuffling of bits and routines that seem redundant the more you see them.
But maybe Finn doesn’t want to reveal himself at these shows because the devoted fans are, well, they are kind of crazy. First off, it is 80% male at these shows, which is always a mild bummer. Secondly, the fans can cross the boundary from being “into it” to being too “into it.” Many know every word that Finn says and shout it with him, creating a weird performance art situation where you don’t know who is the entertainer and who is being entertained. They don’t just sing along; they act out the songs. There is lots of male hugging and people drink way too much. Look, I want everyone to have a good time, but sometimes the whole charade can be a little nuts. I was reminded about this through the all-black security team who worked the large club (the venue is in an area with a giant homeless population, which I never know San Diego really had. But this probably adds to the high numbers of security present that can feel as distracting as the audience). The security guy by the photo pit watched the weird-ass white people and went from ammusment to disgust to pity over the course of the night. But maybe the problem is in me more than the crowd. Maybe people should be like this and not as contained as I am at shows. But on this night, with these dudes, I got the feeling like I didn’t relate to the majority of the fans I ran into. How can such a large group of men from every age group all relate to the same tunes and all react so differently at a show?
So where I could simply write-off The Hold Steady as a band whose fans I don’t relate to or identify with, thus making it hard to appreciate music, I need to remember I didn’t get into music to make friends and relate to people. Whether or not I think the scene at their show is silly or scary or lame or fun, it is important to note but it shouldn’t affect what the quality of the art is perceived as. The only relationship that really matters is between the art and the viewer or listener. And The Hold Steady have a couple all-time great records in their back pocket. I don’t know why it appeals to bro-ish dudes so much, or why Titus Andronicus and Japandroids seem to be heirs to the dude-rock throne. I suppose the issues that all those bands deal with are particularly masculine, but the people who get a release at their shows are truly a mystery. Are they bottled-up and in need of loud, honest and direct music to let go? Is it the same reason why people go out dancing to forget their problems? But the more I think about it, I think it’s more my defect than theirs. Because whatever happens when these people lose themselves in the music and performance, it must work. Because they keep coming back again and again. And if there is a perfect music for letting go, it must be The Hold Steady
Set List
Hornets, Hornets
Hurricane J
Chips Ahoy!
Chicago Seemed Tired Last Night
Stuck Between Stations
Cattle and the Creeping Things
The Swish
The Sweet Part of the City
You Can Make Him Like You
Rock Problems
Constructive Summer
Massive Nights
The Weekenders
Stevie Nix
Multitude of Casualties
Sequestered in Memphis
Goin on a Hike
Little Hoodrat Friend
Southtown Girls
Stay Positive
———–
Positive Jam
Hot Soft Light
How a Resurrection Really Feels
