[awkward video recap] Rich Aucoin @ the Middle East upstairs
If you haven't ever been to a RICH AUCOIN show, you should go to one. Or,
rather, participate in one. Because seeing the Halifax, Canada-based solo
electro artist live is less passively watching a show than diving
headfirst into an acid trip of a immersive live theater performance. A
caveat: it helps to get really fucked up pre-show. Beers are good, drugs
are probably better. Either way, you're going to have let your
inhibitions take the night off. What follows here is a poor attempt to
recreate what Aucoin's show at the Middle East this past Monday night
was like. To review it would be difficult, if not pointless (see: "it
helps to get really fucked up").
But
first, a shout out to openers STEPDAD (2011's 50 Bands 50
States pick for Michigan) who, as music editor Michael Marotta pointed
out, are really good. This song live is killer. So is this one. Rich
Aucoin dug them too, I saw him dancing a little stage left.
Onto
the main event. Aucoin, a sinewy, angular Canadian ginger in jean
shorts with kinetic energy to spare, drapes a white bed sheet onstage as
a makeshift projector screen. He sets up a mic stand and some minimal
sound machine equipment up in front. Lights dim. The power is go.
[Some
basic info on Aucoin's shtick: he projects weird ass YouTube vids,
clips from obscure movies, and the like onto aforementioned sheet and
sings with them/at them/at you/with you.]
First
he projects this, an obvious crowd favorite.
Everyone digs "Guy on a
Buffalo." Unless you're a terrorist or something. You're not, right?
Then
it's on to Animals Who Yell Like Human Beings. These are a personal
favorite.
Aucoin holds up the mic to the seal and goat yelling like men
so that we can all hear. Then he hold the mic out to us and we all yell
like men, too. We're all really good at yelling like men. Maybe even
better than the goat.
Finally, it's time for some words of encouragement to pump us all up before the show really gets going. This kid has some.
Holy
shit, are we pumped. We are so pumped we all want to go learn to ride a
bike. We don't need no training wheels let this mother fucker burn. But
first, we dance.
Oh
man, do we dance. Aucoin, is a hell of a showman. He moves through the
sweaty, jumping, gyrating crowd like a glad-handing politician, kissing
babies, and proffering the mic so we can take turns singing along.
Sometimes, he projects words onto the sheet so those of us who don't
know the words (me) can sing along too.
At
one point, he asked everyone to get down on one knee, put their hand on
the shoulder of the person to their right and sort of hump the floor
awkwardly. It feels a little too culty to me, at first, I'm not a team
player, but at this point I'm too far gone. I'm right there in it.
"Remember
those parachutes we used to play with in gym class?," he asks us. We
totally do! Out comes one of those primary color-blocked parachutes
--you know, the ones you used to grip the edges of in elementary school,
flapping it up and down so it caught air and playing "popcorn"? That's
what we do at the upstairs of the Middle East. We run and jump and play
popcorn underneath an enormous billowing parachute. I cannot believe
what I am doing but a self-check confirms that I am indeed doing it. And
it's awesome. It's kind of jubilant, is what it is.
Too
soon, it's over, and we're all beaming sweatily and sort of shyly at
each other. I see some bearded dudes patting each other on the back. We
bonded, is what we did. And we had Rich Aucoin to thank for that.
Where was he back in 5th grade gym class?
Go be in his show next time he's in town, is what I'm trying to say here.