Die! Die! Die! Live Recordings + Bootleg (The Earl - Atlanta 3/24/08)

On March 14 with little warning a tornado struck Atlanta, cutting a 6-mile path of destruction through the city, my city. I’ve had a few days to think about the storm, and I think the reason it was so upsetting was that I had always believed tall skyscrapers disrupted wind in a way that would make tornadoes impossible. I felt safe. Then the sky moved and tore down the neighborhood next to mine.

Last night I went to East Atlanta a neighborhood that lost power during the storm and suffered heavy damage from downed trees. I went to a wind battered Earl as a way to insert some fantasy in my week. The opening acts played their sets, and three innocuous guys in sweaters and spectacles started dragging their equipment to the front of the stage.

I went to grab a drink. When I returned, I saw the band had stripped to t-shirts and managed to look pretty tough. Of course, I was still under the impression that this particular band, Die! Die! Die!, that had traveled all the way from New Zealand to play 10 shows in 3 days at SXSW and then driven all the way to Atlanta, were merely trying to look tough. I was so accustom to the idea that musicians try to seem like something they are not, I didn’t realize or see the true and very real passion, anger, and commitment in front of me.

The first tree-cracking blast of the bass jolted me as Andrew Wilson flung his body off the stage into the slim Monday crowd. Hipsters scattered to avoid the unpredictable singer who occasionally clipped an audience member with an elbow while falling to writhe on the ground. He was so enraptured in pushing out the words of the song that they came in convulsions and shutters.

While Michael Prain was chained to his kit, Lachlan Anderson brought his bass out to bump his favorite girls. After the bass’ neck came dangerously close to grazing a good piece of my face, I realized something. This was not safe! Die! Die! Die! was not pretending. They weren’t pretending to make music that cut a 6-mile path of destruction. They were just doing it while each well placed note was making their bodies seize involuntarily. I was mysteriously thrilled, maybe a little calm. Life isn’t safe! It never will be, and pretending that it’s anything else is idiotic and dangerous. A lot more dangerous than getting knocked in the head by a bass guitar.

Every song was an attack. Every note was a solid point. Finally, after the last note came from Andrew and he quietly put down his Jaguar that had its strap duck taped on both ends, the 40 or so people at the Earl that night cheered. We clapped because we saw something worth seeing. We cheered because it wasn’t hipsters jerking themselves off. We roared because we genuinely wanted the band back on stage but knew they weren’t coming out.

Ultimately the band is something of a force of faith. You either know the pain they’re channeling and redirecting or not, but from this new fans perspective all those people out their who “just don’t get it” can fucking Die! Die! Die!

The Entire Show Courtesy of The Earl

1. Promises Promises
2. Britomart Sunset
3. Maybe: Definitely
4. Sideways Here We Come
5. A.T.T.I.T.U.D.
6. Out Of The Blue
7. Blue Skies
8. Throw A Fit