James Arden checks out the garage rockers latest album.
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Wordcounts. Rubbish, aren’t they? And always part of some tedious essay you’re supposed to be writing instead of doing something important like playing Wii Boxing or stalking fit acquaintances on Facebook. In fact, I estimate that my Facebook wordcount (status updates, wall posts, messages) far outstrips my university work-wordcount. This tells you how lazy I am. (68 words – shit)
Sadly, the wordcounts (the important ones, not the Facebook ones) seem to manifest themselves when they aren’t needed. Days can go by when you might think that you should have some work to do, that surely something should be pressing on your time, and that maybe your skill level on Wii suggests that you have too much of it on your hands. When you’ve spent two consecutive days writing out the lyrics to Michael Jackson’s Thriller album (*cough*), you notice a big wordcount-shaped gap in your life. You’re at university to work, right? However, those pesky wordcounts leap at you from all angles the minute anything remotely entertaining comes along. A gig, say. An amazing gig is even more likely. Thus, according to the wordcount logic, the night before one of my twice-termly essays was due in, Beirut played. (210 words – alright, refresh Facebook)
Naturally, Beirut won over essay. As I have said earlier, wordcounts are rubbish. In fact, such is my distain for wordcounts that I left the house for the gig, the evening before 2500 words of genius were due in, with only my 250 word bibliography typed up. Let me put it this way: Beirut are too good a band to ever pass up seeing for a wordcount.
The show was wonderful, and I mean truly wonderful. As the Oxford English Dictionary puts it; “full of wonder; such as to excite wonder or astonishment; marvellous”. (excellent, academic reference – 307 words) I was full of wonder as to how Romanian-French influenced folk-music could inspire such unbearable happiness when accordions are Satan’s instrument. How a bunch of sweaty blokes in jumpers could make me want to dance and sing along to a pretty shaky version of their impending single “Elephant Gun” and how all the cool kids seemed to feel the same way.
Ripping through a mix of songs from Gulag Orkestar, Lon Gisland EP and their latest album The Flying Club Cup, Beirut inspired the closest thing to euphoria that can be felt on a motorway just outside Leeds. Although it was a wonderful show, the performance itself was mixed; the ukulele gave way three-quarters through the set, frontman Zach Condon seemed slightly uncertain throughout and there was more than one false start. Like two uncertain teenagers kissing, bumping noses and clashing teeth, it was sweet, funny and entirely inconsistent. Which was why I loved it so much. And probably why I forgot about my essay for two shining hours.
And the wordcount? When I got home I bashed out the rest of it in a couple of hours. I have probably failed and I really don’t care. I am more than certain you would have made the same wise choice. (524 words – wonderful. Onto Wii Tennis)
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