Above photo depicts neither Peter, Bjorn nor John.
But they were sure having a good time at the show.
Peter Bjorn & John
Le National- May 5th 2007
Mr. fingers
I imagine, in my lack of talent, that it must be difficult to write a hit song and have to sing it over and over again. It must be like that feeling of self-betrayal one gets when they tell the same winning story, the story everybody laughs at, the story only they tell right, the story which, once told too many times, begins to lose value and makes you feel shame. Sadly, this same contemptuous spiral exists in music. Songs get overplayed. Songs get tarnished the more they are spread. They die in the heart when that friend you secretly hate or distant relative comes up and says, “hey have you heard that new song that goes:dooo dooo dooo doooo do do do do doooooo do do do do do do doooooo dooo do do do doooo do do do do do doooooo” and then you and your friends are friends no longer. Or maybe it was the song you listened to over and over again while you were curled up in your room smoking cigarettes out the window, the song that no one knew, the song that might, just maybe might, lift you from your ruin and help you to give people a second chance. It was the song you kept only to yourself and played only for a few friends, and then the next day at school the guy who threw you into a locker and stole your would-be lover is playing it out of his cute fucking car and the next thing you know, you not only hate all these people again, but you hate the band, the song, and much worse, now yourself. These are the unwritten perils of music. Case in point Peanut Butter & Jam’s “Young Folks,” a track which has dominated airwaves since its 2006 release. I didn’t want to like this show. I wanted to say bad things about it. It was shallow. I admit it. Negative. Meh. I decided not to review the performance. What difference would it make anyways? This is a record about love, sung with all the tension and vigour this treacherous word brings, and there’s something admittedly sweet about the temporary blindness that comes with this debilitating narcotic, something cute about not caring about what the “folks” say. So I won’t say anything about the band. I will only say this one thing: harmonizing on stage is a difficult thing to do, unless your name is Peter, Bjorn, or John. The other single thing I will say is this: Young Folks is certainly not the strongest work from this Swedish trio, though it is one of the most energetic in its tension between the male and female vocals. I have one fond memory of the PBJ show. She was a big brown woman with a big brown ass, with big brown scissors and a lot of class. She was dancing in the balcony with her friends and I realized then that if I were ever in a band, I would know I was making good music if I could make someone in a crowd of hoodies, stripes, and head-bobbers groove the way this gal grooved.
Stripes 23
Sweater Vests 19