Music Against Brain Degeneration Revue

Thought I'd send in the set list for Robyn in Atlanta: [see above]

Clothes-polka dot shirt, light blue trousers

Robyn seemed relaxed and in a good mood. He made fun of our Airport: "Oh yeah, Atlanta, concourse B" he spoke in a robot voice to mimic the robotic voice you hear on the transport system at Hartsfield international. He changed a lyric during "Gene Hackman"- "I'll have a cold shower, I'll have a bottle of juice, and when I go outside, I'll have a good excuse" don't know if he's ever used this before or not.

He dedicated "Queen of Eyes" for Jefferson, meaning REM's now disgraced ex-manager, Jefferson Holt. Robyn spoke a fair amount, telling stories about the songs mainly, such as explaining who
Vera Lynn was in "The Yip Song" and about the scotty dogs. I thought he got a good reception from the I believe sell-out Atlanta crowd. I stayed for Sebadoh, and I liked Lou's songs. I left before the end of the Lips.

One of my favorite songs on "Jewels" is "I feel Beautiful" and I noticed today a lovely contrast in the section beginning "Yes, we're alive, at the same time, Like mayflies, like fireflies" both of which, especially the mayflies, have a very short life span-reflecting the idea that once you find your loved one, it seems you have such a short time to spend with them-followed by "I been waiting round Covent Garden for you for centuries, I been hanging round Festival pier for you, honey, for decades" this contrasts so nicely with the preceding idea-love is timeless-these ideas may seem trite as I spell them out, but the imagery Robyn uses brings them alive in a very untrite way. It just adds a bit more to one of the most uplifting and redemptive songs I've heard Mr. Hitchcock sing.

--Bibi



Robyn Hitchcock was his usual charming self, running through a solo set of oddly chosen nuggets spanning his career. I think he wore the same shirt he passed through Atlanta in 3 years ago, and his set doesn't seem to vary by night (down to the "Higsons" encore w/Sebadoh), which is too bad because he and Sebadoh are the only ones not hamstrung by backing tracks.

--Glen

Review from Flagpole magazine dated August 25, 1999
THE FIRST INTERNATIONAL MUSIC AGAINST BRAIN DEGENERATION RIVUE: THE FLAMING UPS, SEBADOH, ROBYN HITCHCOCK, CORNELIUS, IQU
Wednesday, August 11
The Masquerade
Amusement parks take their toll on me, so when i arrived at the Music Against brain Degeneration Revue after six hours at Six Flags, my brain, no doubt, had degenerated somewhat, and the hallucinatory imbalance I had intended to procure through chemical means was instead delivered through feats of engineering and hucksterism. (I seem to remember muttering. ‘You never got me down, Ray. You never got me down." a la Jake LaMotta.) The heat only aggravated matters, and the inside
of the Masquerade offered no respite, what with a packed house and overhead fans that didn't come on until late into the night.

Headphones were given out at the merchandise booth (M.A.B.D. being the self-declared "first headphones concert") with which one could tune in to the show, though to little effect (other than some delay if you stood at the opposite end of the hall from the stage). The presence of the headphones seemed more symbolic than useful. According to emcee/Flaming Lips" frontman Wayne Coyne, M.A.B.D. was conceived to utilize the 'Mozart effect.’ a scientific premise that hypothesizes that exposure to complex music enhances brain power. (Mere weeks into the M.A.B.D. tour, the Mozart effect was scientifically debunked, but oh well.)

K Records’ IQU (formerly ICU, pronounced "i-kew") provided the first opportunity to test the theory with a set that worked like a breakbeat soundtrack to a Laurie Anderson piece. With beats, guitar noise, two turntables and a theremin, it began to get extremely frantic and exciting, but 15 minutes into the set the threat of monotony set up camp.

If IQU failed to fulfill their promise, though they did at least seem to render the following act, Cornelius, redundant. Unlike many, I was not overly impressed with Cornelius' Fantasma In the late '90s. genre-hopping pop-noise has become about as common as Starbucks (and generally about as welcome); it was quite a surprise, then, to see that Cornelius (with band in tow) has traded in the postmodern sonic collage schtick for.. arena rock? Indeed, Cornelius and crew cranked out riffage (though not quite songs) that for all I know could have been ‘Achilles' Last Stand" while the screen behind them displayed footage of an array of fetishes: Michael Jackson, soccer, and. of course. Planet of the Apes. It was kitsch, to be sure, but high-grade kitsch, and when Cornelius played “Love Me Tender" on a theremin, in sync with the Elvis scene on the screen behind him. I wasn't the only one who chuckled.

Robyn Hitchcock took the stage next, armed solely with a guitar and — a first for the night — actual songs. The new songs, from Jewels for Sophia, were generally negligible, but the older selections, going back as far as "Queen of Eyes" from Underwater Moonlight, delighted the considerable number of Hitchcock fans in the audience. Hitchcock's comic/odd banter — familiar to anyone who's seen or heard Storefront Hitchcock — was revealed in songs like "The Yip! Song," and belied any dismissals of Hitchcock as a mere eccentric. Hitchcock was joined by Sebadoh for the last selection, a rousing take of “Listening to the Higson." (Bryan Helium was no doubt singing along.) It was the highlight of the nigh! for both acts.

When Sebadoh retook the stage, a guy near me shouted “Sebadoh are God!’, though I think he got the verb tense wrong “Sebadoh was God!" maybe, “Sebadoh is God!" no way. Plugging through a set of confessed “insecure indie-rock," the problems with Sebadoh's set can be summed up in four words: too much new stuff; or, more to the point: way too damn boring. By the time they slogged through ‘Flame.’ I began to understand why Jeff Clark takes such glee in ripping them. ‘Sebadoh was God!" maybe, but on this night there was barely a trace of glory to be found: it was like watching Unitas with the Chargers.

If Sebadoh is a band past its peak, then the Flaming Lips is a band firmly at its peak. Its semi-soundcheck run-through The Spiderbite Song’ managed to outshine anything previously heard that night. When they re-emerged moments later for a proper rock star entrance and charged through ‘Race for the Prize* (with footage of a young Leonard Bernstein interspersed with atomic explosions) hearts swelled on-stage and in the crowd.

The Lips played a few older songs (including an almost matter-of-factly presented “She Don't Use Jelly’), but by and large the set focused on The Soft Bulletin. If anyone needed a distinction between The Soft Bulletin and it's prog-rock roots (Coyne has stated that Yes was a heavy influence on the record), it was readily available tonight. The Lips played with a sloppiness and enthusiasm that their forebears never could have managed. While their forebears buried any hint of emotion, the Lips put their heart front and center, red and dripping.

In any case, you'd never see anyone laughing and dancing at a Pink Floyd concert, but the girl beside me did just that during “What Is The Light?" and on into the coda-like "The Observer," while the audience cheered and a loop of the final scenes from 2001 played behind Coyne & Co. By the time the Lips reached the set closing "The Gash," the music and goodwill were powerful enough to overrule the aches and pains of my body and I bounced along aerobically to the melody.

The Lips returned for an encore. but by that point l had emptied out onto North Ave., a bruise blackening beneath my left arm, the stink of the streets hanging in the air. As I stood there for a moment and watched the lights of Atlanta, a lyric wound its way through my brain like an earwig “With explosions wounds are open, eyes and noses, but the thought that went unspoken was understanding that you're broken ..Still the last volunteer battles on. battles on."

James Blount