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Kate and Lara went out to see Matt Keating at the 400 Bar in Minneapolis on September 26, 2008. The show seems to showcase a variety of local-ish bands, five by their count… six including the headliner.
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After getting an e-mail confirmation that I was “on the list” for this show, I arrived at the venue to disappointing news. Matt Keating didn’t have a list. Luckily, Joe, the handsome doorman, has the hots for my friend and let us in, ever so graciously (Thanks, Joe!).
I won’t hold this oversight against Mr. Keating and his associates, though (and I must tell you that I feel inclined to call him “Mr. Keating” as he sort of looks like a high school Earth Science teacher with his long hair, glasses, plain shirt and Levi’s) because he did not disappoint. But more on that later.
Five bands took the stage (5!) including: High on Stress, who didn’t sound stressed out at all, according to the handsome and gracious doorman (Thanks again, Joe!), Laarks, which featured members of the late, great Amateur Love, Mr. Keating (wait for it), Farewell Milwaukee—a delightful new band (formerly called Montreal) that my lovely and talented friend drums for (Hi, Brad!), and The Small Cities who, I’m sorry to say, I missed as I am old and needed to go to bed. Overall, it was a good night of instruments and voices collectively making pleasant sounds. But I’m not supposed to be writing about the overall so…
Matt. Matt Keating. Mr. Keating. I know I said he looks like an educator but he also sort of looks like Tom Petty (pointed out by my friend who the handsome and gracious doorman has the hots for—you’re the best, Joe!), which made a little more sense. Keating played rock that was for the people, by the people. Good old, guitar-driven, blue collar music that induces sexy hip-swaying and foot stomping on the wood floor. Honest, gritty and sweaty with nothing fancy or frilly. These are the songs my parents used to play while cleaning on Sunday afternoons; I would protest and insist we listen to whatever sad, adolescent crap I was obsessed with at the time but would secretly love the straight-up Americana.
Keating’s band was quite refreshing to watch, also. These people genuinely enjoy performing this music; it’s obvious. I have a feeling the bass player like likes her guitar as she looked to be in complete ecstasy while punching out the drones. I’m sure all the boys and girls who like girls were in love with her (especially since her boob was dangerously close to falling out the entire show). I feel safe saying the drummer was having the time of his life and will dreamily relive these shows while shaving every morning. He could easily be a fellow faculty member of Keating’s. Maybe the cool English teacher who students see around town trying to score some weed.
Go see them, okay? Wear some tight jeans, buy a beer and prepare yourself for something strangely familiar.
Matt Keating’s tour dates and latest release, Quixotic, are available at: myspace.com/mattkeating
>>>
After getting an e-mail confirmation that I was “on the list” for this show, I arrived at the venue to disappointing news. Matt Keating didn’t have a list. Luckily, Joe, the handsome doorman, has the hots for my friend and let us in, ever so graciously (Thanks, Joe!).
I won’t hold this oversight against Mr. Keating and his associates, though (and I must tell you that I feel inclined to call him “Mr. Keating” as he sort of looks like a high school Earth Science teacher with his long hair, glasses, plain shirt and Levi’s) because he did not disappoint. But more on that later.
Five bands took the stage (5!) including: High on Stress, who didn’t sound stressed out at all, according to the handsome and gracious doorman (Thanks again, Joe!), Laarks, which featured members of the late, great Amateur Love, Mr. Keating (wait for it), Farewell Milwaukee—a delightful new band (formerly called Montreal) that my lovely and talented friend drums for (Hi, Brad!), and The Small Cities who, I’m sorry to say, I missed as I am old and needed to go to bed. Overall, it was a good night of instruments and voices collectively making pleasant sounds. But I’m not supposed to be writing about the overall so…
Matt. Matt Keating. Mr. Keating. I know I said he looks like an educator but he also sort of looks like Tom Petty (pointed out by my friend who the handsome and gracious doorman has the hots for—you’re the best, Joe!), which made a little more sense. Keating played rock that was for the people, by the people. Good old, guitar-driven, blue collar music that induces sexy hip-swaying and foot stomping on the wood floor. Honest, gritty and sweaty with nothing fancy or frilly. These are the songs my parents used to play while cleaning on Sunday afternoons; I would protest and insist we listen to whatever sad, adolescent crap I was obsessed with at the time but would secretly love the straight-up Americana.
Keating’s band was quite refreshing to watch, also. These people genuinely enjoy performing this music; it’s obvious. I have a feeling the bass player like likes her guitar as she looked to be in complete ecstasy while punching out the drones. I’m sure all the boys and girls who like girls were in love with her (especially since her boob was dangerously close to falling out the entire show). I feel safe saying the drummer was having the time of his life and will dreamily relive these shows while shaving every morning. He could easily be a fellow faculty member of Keating’s. Maybe the cool English teacher who students see around town trying to score some weed.
Go see them, okay? Wear some tight jeans, buy a beer and prepare yourself for something strangely familiar.
Matt Keating’s tour dates and latest release, Quixotic, are available at: myspace.com/mattkeating
Matt Keating at the 400 Bar, Minneapolis (26 Sep 2008)
Photo by Kate
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