I Can Still See Where I Am – Dada at The Note

I remarked earlier in the year that four bands were really important to me in the early 90s as I graduated from high school and went off to college: R.E.M., Matthew Sweet (all right, three bands and a solo artist), Toad the Wet Sprocket, and dada. While I have managed to see the first three live numerous times, for various reasons the closest I got to dada was being able to catch a three-song set that they played at the Tower Records near my house, back when there was a Tower Records near my house. (Since they played “Surround,” one of my all-time favorite tracks, I considered myself lucky.) But when the band announced that they would be playing in West Chester on the day before my birthday as part of their tour to commemorate the 20th anniversary of their debut album Puzzle, I decided that I had to take the plunge and cross “See a full dada show live” off of my Lifetime To Do List.

So I figured out how to get from work out to West Chester via public transit and eventually found my way to The Note, a a bar with a stage and a decent amount of standing room as well as a balcony with couches and chairs. One virtue of not drinking is that I spent no time at the bar and was able to get right up the stage. From there, there was nothing to do but wait. The bar clearly knew its target audience – or at least it knew I was coming. Once upon a time, I would title whichever mixtape had my favorite songs Daves Rich Pageant; now I have a 25-song playlist on my iPod with the same name. Within half an hour of my arrival at The Note, the sound people had played three songs from Daves Rich Pageant among the mix of 90s alt-rock selections. I had come to this show in part because as a 17-year-old, I had been unable to. I was already starting to feel a little bit like the place had been waiting for me.

The opening artist, Anna Rose, was definitely talented, and her opening song “Behold a Pale Horse” still sticks in my memory. Lots of the audience was still trickling in or hanging out at the bar, but those in the audience who were listening seemed to like what they were hearing. At around 10, dada took the stage. I was standing pretty close to dead center so I had a great view of drummer Phil Leavitt as he began to play, followed by bassist Joie Calio and finally guitarist Michael Gurley. As their opening jam took shape, I was pretty sure that they were getting ready to open with “Posters,” but they weren’t in any rush to get there. And that was just fine. I can’t really describe the start of the show and do it justice, but I can share this YouTube video of the band doing a similar intro in Atlanta earlier in the tour:

I’ve said a lot of times that recorded music is one of the greatest cultural bargains we have. I could buy the tracks that were played that night for around the same price as my ticket, and listen to them over and over again. In fact, I have. But to be a few feet away from the band as they made the music happen is an entirely different experience, and before Gurley sang a word I was already chalking that bus ride up as time well spent. I wish I could describe the joy I felt when Gurley, and the crowd, sang the opening line to “Posters.” I’ve said before that being a fan of something forms a bond with other fans; at that moment I was at home in a room full of strangers.

The band segued from “Posters” right into “Dim,” the single that got me to purchase Puzzle in the first place. As they reached the end, I thought to myself that if for some reason the band had to walk off the stage at that moment, I would still be a a satisfied ticket-buyer. Fortunately, they played until around midnight, which surprised me a little bit. When I had checked the setlists for the band’s other shows, they had run to around 14 or 15 songs. What I hadn’t taken into account is how much the band was willing to depart from the studio versions of songs in the course of the live performance. Not only did they insert interludes into several songs, but when Gurley wanted to adjust his pedals or check on something in the sound mix, Leavitt and Calio would just start to jam, and Gurley would join in as he completed his fine-tuning.

When I was younger, I didn’t give nearly enough credit to the actual playing of music. In my head, the musicians had to have the skill to follow the songwriter’s script, but I did not appreciate that the act of interpreting a song and bringing it to life in the moment is a fantastically creative act in and of itself. Fortunately, I had already become wiser in my old age, but if I hadn’t, watching dada play would have kicked the light bulb on for sure. It doesn’t hurt that the members of dada write great songs, of course, but even when they’re doing other material, such as the cover of “California Dreamin'” that they have performed a lot on this tour, you know that they’re a great band.

At a couple of points during the show, Leavitt thanked the audience for the years we have spent following the band. For myself, I can certainly say it’s been my pleasure. And hopefully I won’t wait 20 years before I see them again.

About Dave Thomer

Born and raised in Philadelphia. Studied philosophy at Fordham University in the Bronx, where I made many great friends and met my wonderful wife. We moved back to Philadelphia, where I studied philosophy some more and became a teacher. Online and off, I'm looking for ways that we can be better citizens and build stronger communities.

January 2, 2014 @ 11:42 pm

Culture and Media

dada the band, live music