Walking Bicycles

   The Friday night I saw Walking Bicycles at The Hideout, is the same night they broadcasted the Angel Olsen interview on Sound Opinions on NPR. I guess its gonna stay with me the many nights I could have seen her. I think she even hit Whistler. Ehh, sob, right?  So I listen and take this in and get ready.  I must say it feels good to read about them...Walking Bicycles....its quite the relief that its not just in my fucking head. Its like a voice in my head suddenly now appearing as text on a Chicago Innerview piece, and then Brooklyn Vegan and Stereogum all talk about them. I read this in anticipation of this Hideout gig.  All is well. I don't stall, I shower on time. I go with my sister and her husband. She's going on the sheer trust of my enthusiasm. He's already sold but has not seen the band live yet. We park in that diagonal parking they got. We stroll to the entrance and there's the band chilling outside. I feel really at ease around them and so it feels cool to have them meet who I bring. The euphoria of that moment still reaches out to soften the headache that chills the hands from writing further.
  Anyway, so I'm all happy 'cause this is like the fucking green room meeting you. This is who I bring to see the Bicycles. My sister has met Jocelyn and Julius when seeing My Gold Mask. Has no fucking clue whats to come out of Jocelyn later on. I mean she's wearing glasses.....no tattoos, no pointy Vulcan ears. Nothing as obvious as lets say Jilly from We Are Hex. There is nothing in Jocelyn's smoking casually outside that is a tell as to how she brings it on stage. And she greets my sister warmly. Sister is in for a surprise in about 15 minutes. They go inside to get their drinks. I chill outside with my friends in the band.
   As we sat outside and talked. Jocelyn noticed a group of attractive high heeled women spill out of a car and head inside. Hell we all noticed them, they looked so out of place. They just didn't look like they came deliberately to see the show. Jocelyn was sure as hell they were not there to see her. You just know who your fans aren't. It was a curious thing to see. Why would you go inside Hideout, pay,...to not see the band? For a night that had Peter Murphy/Ringo Deathstarr play one end of town Mars Volta playing another, Walking Bicycles held a good crowd. They held their own on a competitive Friday night. They are an easy sell for me for friends that I know went to other shows that night. I would not bring them to see this as they long to see something else. I will not deprive them of their shows they long anticipated ........and I say that in my tenderest Michael Caine voice. I would feel like utter shite to see fucking downcast eyes on a bloody iphone.  Shit let me switch off me Michael Caine voice. There were other shows....big shows that played that night. Yeah, I'm thinking Peter Murphy/Ringo Deathstarr. Hell yeah I would have gone to that. Its about how and when to sell a band. This was an easy choice for me.
  Bicycles have the effortless subcultural coolness of an old muscle car an older relative once had. Alright....I am a full believer in the band. So I go straight for the muscle car reference. I was in a sad spot when I heard Welcome To The Future. This one song foreshadowed the Great Recession for me. Braced me for leaner times. Sometimes whatever music that finds you, its not for nothing that this happens, since much of it is produced in the face and in the wake of hard times. Their sounds strike as weathered, proven and streetwise like an early forgotten Siouxsie contemporary, or for me an older cousin with a cool car in a bad neighborhood.  For me they never disappoint live. I'm starting to become familiar with their set. There are songs I like and anticipate for the moment I can only hear live. Vitamin Z makes me wanna train parkour. Something about it imprints the image of someone rapidly descending down a winding staircase, indeed running with the sure grip and elegance of an animal. And for me it comes to the space between instruments. The engine is transparent enough to marvel at the individual components. I go on about the bass, yes. But it needs something to call and respond to and in comes the guitar. The drums dictate how fast the blood pumps. So/Badada, happily now are tracks that circulate regularly. Them being familiar fuels the crave to see them live. Now I anticipate their show on  11 August on a Free Monday.
  Jocelyn's slightly husky voice is just right, has a natural authority. You can hear her clearly over the audio tapestry of rolling jangly bass, deep, fast power drums and guitar weaving between all of it. Her voice, a howl from deep inside a cave. When I say early Siouxsie, its the bass that introduces that impression for me. And breaking it down further its about the raw aggressive punk sound they share. Yet they do not sound telegraphed. Having Deric as drummer is like having racing tires that grip well on mountain curves. His beats are fast and land heavy. There is something about how the whole engine works that allows this transparency. Fucking hell I'm sorry if this turned out really long.
Zig