moe.ments of brilliance. moe.ments of boredom.
moe. is the little band that could. Many people predicted the group’s demise back in the mid ’90s when it was rotating drummers faster than Spinal Tap, and again when the boys lost their record deal with Sony a few years later.
But moe. continues to fuck the face of its loudest critics, selling out large shows, hosting sold-out festivals and pulling big-time gigs. Just last week moe. became the second group to play the brand-spanking new Highline Ballroom in New York’s increasingly glamorous Meatpacking District. The band played to five capacity crowds, and as usual, left their most ardent supporters satisfied and their critics stupified.
To give a little background on myself, I fall somewhere in the middle ground between fluffer and hater. My relationship with moe. began in 1995 when I saw an interesting post about the band on rec.music.phish and headed to a church in New Brunswick to check them out. I became hooked on their songs from the moment they started St. Augustine. Over the next few years I saw dozens of shows, and I loved them all. But something happened around that time, a weird situation when the band put an emphasis on jamming more then depending on the songs themselves. For many bands, I’d be happy as a pig in slop to see a 30-minute version of a song, but with moe., I just got bored. The band is full of capable musicians, but I’ve always felt many of their jams meander.
Let’s return to the present and talk about the show Ace and I caught last Thursday night at the Highline. It was moe.’s second night of five, and the place was buzzing with energy as the band started. Timmy Tucker opened the show, the song that most symbolizes my biggest issue with the band. Timmy is a fun tune, but after a 10-minute Chuck Garvey solo I’m a little impatient when Al Schnier starts a 10-minute solo of his own. Within 20 minutes I had remembered what I liked and disliked about this band.
Read on for more of Nate’s great pics and the rest of Scotty’s review…
