I hope everyone has a Ted Leo. Not the man or his music in actuality, but something that makes each and every person as happy as Ted Leo and the Pharmacists’ music makes me. Because his music makes me want to dance around the room, pound the downbeats with my hand, sing at the top of my lungs and share it with everyone I know.
During the summer of 2001 I had acquired a copy of his full length, The Tyranny of Distance, but I had never really given it enough listens to realize just how amazing the songs actually were. I’m sure that part of what contributed to my ignorance is the poor production quality of some parts of the record. The only way that I can describe it is like an over-exposed photograph, the drums just white everything out.
Anyhow, after a long summer in Chicago, I recognized that the Pharmacists were playing with a couple of other cool bands at Brownies the very weekend I returned to New York City.
One of my closest friends, Meg (who later cultivated a love for Ted that runs even deeper than my own. She actually ended up talking to him at a show, but out of pure nervousness her admiration for the musician turned into an awkward sarcasm which concluded with Ted Leo telling her that she was very intimidating) and I made our way downtown to an awfully crowded Brownies. She took off before his set, but I found myself surrounded by an array of friends (including Brian and a couple of other folks who worked where I interned) who I hadn’t seen for a couple of months.
Ted Leo and the Pharmacists won me over on this very night. They opened the evening with Ted playing a couple of Ted Leo songs alone with his electric guitar. And then in the midst of the amazing song “Timorous Me” the band emerged and rocked out. They performed before a full house, including Ted’s parents and brother. The crowd sang along, danced, and had endless fun as the band kept us yearning for more.
They performed every song that they knew as a band. And when they were done, the lead singer from one of the earlier bands got up on stage and begged for more. Out Ted came with an electric guitar and played a beautiful version of Springsteen’s “Dancing in the Dark.”
I almost cried...
Sometimes things come full circle naturally. The final weekend of my college career, I found myself staring at the Village Voice deciding which of two appealing Sunday night shows I wanted to attend. At the goading of Meg, and the realization that some things are just quintessentially New York (for me, at least), I decided to catch Ted Leo and the Pharmacists at North Six in Brooklyn.
It was my last show in New York City.
We hopped aboard the subway and acted in the goofy way that we often do. Meg reflected on some of her recent boy drama, I enumerated the things that needed to happen to make the evening ideal.
Now, Meg and I know each other’s idiosyncrasies and one of mine is that after spending a whole year studying skeletal anatomy, and having a near obsessive interest in the plasticity of the human form, I can’t help but notice people with really unique or over-developed cranial features. I had a professor who said that when you get really good at skeletal anatomy, you’ll find yourself staring at a person and defleshing them trying to figure out how their bones are arranged. Though it’s a totally gross habit, I find myself doing it sometimes when I am sitting on the subway. Unfortunately for Meg, I often feel the need to comment on these things out loud. She’s become used to it, but she never fails to remind me just how creepy the whole thing is.
After creeping her out yet again about a guy with a huge supraorbital torus (read: brow) we emerged from the subway in Williamsburg, Brooklyn, the land of attractive scenester types. Upon entering the venue, the first person I saw was Brian. The evening was already off to a nice start because I hadn’t seen him in quite a while and really wanted to before I left New York for good. I cried out, “Hey stranger!” He gave me a big hug and asked if I had come to see Ted Leo. “Wouldn’t miss it.”
Ted and the boys were great that night. His banter was more likable than ever. At one point, the drummer missed a big drum crash, but a planned “monsters of rock” guitar leap by Ted and the other guitarist took place anyway. After the song, Ted explained that they were “subverting the dominant rock leap norm.” I think four people laughed, Meg and I were two of those people.
During the final song, the mic stand fell over. But, Ted Leo is too rock and roll to care. When he needed to sing, he just picked up the mic and gyrated about the stage vocalizing like some 1970’s rock star, only sincere. When he needed to play guitar, he threw the mic down and danced around the stage, strumming like a madman.
One of my favorite NYC bands, one of my best friends, and a last meeting with one of my favorite people I’ve met over the years. It was the perfect last show. It was the kind of night that I wish could have lasted forever. Unfortunately, I had a genetics exam to study for.
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