Animal Collective @ Prospect Park

The Animal Collective show last night in Prospect Park was an ethereal experience, a true example of music powerful enough to keep the delicate balance; a glass shoe on the toe of an outstretched foot, feeling the breeze of 30 stories below tickle and move it delicately. The mood was never shattered, but overcoming the negativity inherent in those sort of massive corporate shows is not easy. Try to slip past it at the door, and hands are placed on you, even only for a second, just to make sure they are acknowledged.

"Ticketmaster, who IS the master of this section, has the right to search your bag. Oh you don't have a bag? Proceed then, but only with the our good auspices."

Hands then are removed, but I still feel them on me.

I don't mean to sound cynical, but those monster, corporate-sponsor, automaton-at-the-door, Budweiser-only, chicks-all-wearing-jean-shorts-and-sneakers shows are usually a deep pit, into which I reluctantly climb with the promise of a good summer-time day outside and maybe some good music, but at the bottom the inescapable stench of people's humanity as they swarm, chokes and depresses me. I am extremely happy to say, that with a couple of hiccups (including my having to find a nearby bartender willing to stash my camera bag so that I could gain admittance), what I got was an extremely nice summer day outside and in this case, a substantial musical experience. I was strangely aware of the statue of the Marquis de Lafayette as we entered the park. Later I would think about he and Mesmer at their Paris meetings, as the music was literally sending my mind into action involuntarily.

Clearly the best avant-garde band around, Animal Collective recreate their sound flawlwessly live, and the system at Prospect Park's Bandshell was amazing. I was coming in with an impressive headache, but I wasn't marred for a moment. Bleeps and blips have a way of boring into your lobes, but last night there was no noise at all, just beautiful music. After the show, we wandered over to the pub that graciously kept hold of my bag for me (Thanks Harry Boland's), and then had a great dinner across the street. The waitress there was wearing some beautiful jewelery that she made. Her name is Rory, and the brand she started is called Róisín. I woke up this morning feeling fine, still with disbelief at what a great show we had just seen in the park.

"My Girls" by Animal Collective download mp3 (from betterPropaganda)

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