Concerts

Whitehorse, Crescent Ballroom, 11/27/12

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I don't understand why he's clinging on to the name. No offense, but it fucking blows, especially for a metal outfit. A white horse is something a wizard rides or a 12-year old girl dreams of. Why not a black horse? Or a dead horse?

Besides, fuck horses altogether. I once told my ex-roommate's ex-girlfriend that horses are stupid because any animal that passively lets you sit on it and tell it where to go can't be very intelligent. Animals that are generally considered smart like dogs, cats, pigs, dolphins, and even gorillas don't let you ride them. Unfortunately, this was the wrong thing to say to my ex-roommate's ex-girlfriend because it somehow became a screaming match. Why? Because she is a psychopath. In her fits of rage, she often broke mirrors, windows, chairs, and once stabbed a steak knife into the bathroom door where my ex-roommate was hiding. I was mostly joking anyway and I did read Cormac McCarthy's All The Pretty Horses recently and now have a healthy respect for horses, I guess, but still. Fuck horses.

But I'm getting way off track. The point is, I went to the folk pop country Whitehorse show at Crescent, but purposely didn't listen to any of their music beforehand so that it was as foreign and novel as when I saw the metal band and also to keep it so I don't know any Whitehorse songs and I also don't know any Whitehorse songs.

Here's what I knew about Whitehorse before this show: The duo are dating and possibly married. They are from Canada. They play folk music.

Here's what I knew after the show: Crescent Ballroom sometimes closes off half of their giant venue and hangs a giant curtain that looks exactly like the other half of the ballroom. But I was not fooled! I knew I couldn't walk over there and get delicious drinks, you tricksters!

The Other Whitehorse dress like the cutest couple on the planet, half-cowboy, half-retro '50s chic hipster. I wish I looked like an angel kissed my forehead wherever I went. Instead, I also wore my sludge metal Whitehorse t-shirt, which features a pony skull oozing with worms and centipedes, just to confuse the fuck out of everyone.

There were tables and people ordered dinner and most of the folks had white hair. I despise concerts like this. Why would I pay money to sit around? This isn't a movie or a play or something. I'd much rather dance and break bones and become exhilarated. No one seemed to be in the mood for being exhilarated.

Anyway, The Other Whitehorse opened with an acoustic duet and I thought, this is boring. But Luke (I think that's his name - I would Google it, but that would be cheating) then pulled out an electric guitar and it instantly charged me. They had plenty of interesting mics and drums and this loop machine that made their lack of other musicians feel full. It was definitely impressive.

Yet, when they both were playing their guitars, looking deep into each other's eyes, it looked like the couple was courting each other. It made me think of how romantic relationships like this work, when your passion is your job is your marriage is your whole life. I guess touring with your spouse is more convenient than random groupies. But what if you have a fight right before a show? How can you fake that sort of onstage love? Fuck me, I had a fight with my girlfriend right before attending this show. It wasn't anything important or anything, but it happens, I guess. I can't even imagine bickering in a tour bus and then facing a crowd of strangers and forcing being enamored with one another.

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Troy Farah is an independent journalist and documentary field producer. He has worked with VICE, Fusion, LA Weekly, Golf Digest, BNN, Tucson Weekly, and Phoenix New Times.
Contact: Troy Farah