There are few musical acts on this Earth who inspire my active scorn, rather than smug dismissal – The Decemberists being first and foremost on that list. To give credit where credit is due, to make a career writing songs about always having been picked last at dodgeball is an impressive feat, in the same way that shut-ins who cover the walls of their parents’ basement with pictures of anime characters show a staggering dedication to embodying moral blankness through the depraved poetry of their lives and actions.
To defend the band against charges of being the musical equivalent of a shitty cup of coffee in the worst “local writers” section of a terrible community bookstore in the dorkiest part of town, my long-suffering wife will stand as public defendant of one of her favorite bands.
P: I’ve heard that live performances by the band are often a collection of all sorts of genetic dead-ends, sandwiched by sweaty sweaters and social anxiety disorder; is it important for society to provide these “safe havens” for people who should otherwise not dance – in public or otherwise?
CP: Well if what you really want to discuss is a collection of socially awkward misfits all gathered together doing a collective chin stroke, we should be discussing one of your highly esteemed shitty metal bands like Agoraphobic Nosebleed, Discordance Axis, or even Today is the Day. But that’s not what I signed up for.
But The Decemberists live is, as cheesy as this sounds, one great party. And yes there are some sweaters and yes there are some dorks but everybody is very happy and enjoying themselves. And yes there is bad dancing, but what is so bad about that? Last time i checked you are the Captain Extraordinaire of bad dancing so don’t be calling your own out. You just can’t appreciate unchecked exuberance in a collective form.
P: Do you think The Decemberists write so many songs about the sea because deep down they realize they should be lost at sea, preferably in a burlap sack?
CP: I really do think your hatred of the Decemberists has more to do with your own self esteem issues and unresolved childhood hangups.
However, to misquote Fredric Jameson the sea is the site of the production of modernity. Really for someone who lives on an island you have very little appreciation for songs about water. What is so great about “The Mariner’s Revenge Song” or one of their other sea-themed ditties is that they are, at heart, great stories. They combine fear and pathos, humor and the macabre all in one pretty little package which even has an accordion accompaniment.
CP: With my little non-slip mat I can open my own pickle jars, thank you very much. I think the root is that you just have a problem with males (musicians or otherwise) who are in touch with their “feminine” side. This doesn’t bode well for our future children.
P: Ok, that’s reasonable. Next time you need something opened, killed, beaten, smashed or fixed, I’ll engage my feminine side and run around the house wailing like a chickadee because “The computer isn’t doing that thing I want it to!!!” rather than actually accomplishing something.
CP: It is more about letting the little feminine flower inside of you bud forth.
P: But I already took a crap today.