Note: Unfortunately, camera issues marred our pictures from the show, so these are stock photos instead. Apologies. – Ed.

Let me just put this on the table and then back it up with some facts: Shearwater are the best “new” (to the indie-mainstream) band in the world right now. Like Spoon’s Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga last year, Shearwater answered their newfound media attention with an album that completely surpassed all expectations, one that will probably go down in the books as the best album of the year (of course, I’m talking about Rook here). Jonathan Meiburg is perfect: he has a knack for weaving intricate and often delicate music into an ether of pure energy, cycling seamlessly from crystalline falsetto and string arrangements to caustic guitar tones and barbarian howls, holding the creative reigns of an extremely talented set of musicians and pushing the possibilities to the extremes; perfect.

To see Shearwater live, as I did once again this past week, is to see the amazing qualities of the band all Gestalt-ed into one grand performance. I was initially worried that, playing outdoor at the Mohawk, the performance would not live up to the one the band gave a couple months ago at The Parish, where they presented Rook in its entirety, hiring on a harpist and various string players to fill in the gaps left by the core members. Unfortunately, this largely proved to be true: the sound quality at the Mohawk wasn’t stellar (it seemed that the right channel was faltering mid-way through the show, and the e-piano was mixed insultingly high), and many of the intricacies of the past show that I was hoping to relive were lost somewhere in summer night.

With distorted highs and inaudible calms, the dynamic range of songs like “On The Death of The Waters” (i.e., most of Rook) was much less stunning, but still strong. On the upside, the band did play to perfection what is still one of my favorite Shearwater songs, “Seventy-Four, Seventy-Five”. Under the staccato of a pounding piano and the wail of a trumpet the band roared through the powerful track off Palo Santo, lighting up the entire stage, shitty sound-system and all. With few exceptions, the louder songs prevailed, though only because they were most likely to be properly heard, and the softer didn’t, only because they couldn’t quite compete with poor sound, the wail of sirens, and the rest of the intrusive city ambiance.

I’d never miss a chance to see Shearwater, and even in the worst situations (at least sound-wise) the band still easily impress, adapting to their environment and showing their flexibility in moving from studious composers to seasoned outdoor rockers. That being said, I’d prefer to see Shearwater in a venue more suited to highlight the band’s gorgeous intricacies. Alas, bad sound or no, Shearwater are damn near perfect.

Continue reading Live Review: Shearwater (September 4th :: The Mohawk :: Austin, Texas)

It’s Sunday at Big Diction. Here’s what we’ve been up to today on a new piece we call “Around The Office” (in pictures).

Gap Fat Spring Catalog

So You’re Going To Be A Mommy

We’ve been cleaning a bit of house recently here at the Dic, and we came across some things that had been earmarked for BD Salutes, but then buried under stacks and stacks of pornography. But our love of baseball, smoking and sticking it to the man mandated that these bits of news not go unrecognized.

First, and most recent, Cleveland Indians second baseman Asdrubal Cabrera completed just the 14th unassisted triple play in Major League history Monday night. Pretty ballsy, right? Wrong. Upon reviewing the video, we’ve decided to downgrade this from a full-fledged Salute to a more modest Tip of the Cap. Seriously, this video was the biggest letdown since the Mir spacestation didn’t crash into Taco Bell’s huge Pacific target.

Indiana: 60% farmland, 40% Charlie Weis

With summer right around the corner, it’s time to start making your summer road tripping plans! The problem is: your plans are terrible. No one wants to see the world’s largest ball of yarn, do they? No one wants to go to Branson unless they’re a member of AARP. Well I’m here to help all you road ninjas; and to keep you from sawing logs at the wheel, I’m reviewing the five most boring states to drive through so you can get to your precious antique shops in as few pieces as possible! Snoring in at number five on our list is the peanut butter state, Indiana!

The first thing that you’ll notice when you enter Indiana is a welcome sign. On this sign is the nebulous slogan “Crossroads of America.” Now really, it must take more work to come up with a slogan this boring. I can just see some chump hard at work at the Indiana Bureau of Creativity coming to his boss saying “Sir, I have come up with a motto well befitting our great state: The Crossroads of America!” His boss should have said “Jenkins you imbecile, that’s not a motto, it’s rubbish!” I would call this out with such descriptors as a “let down” or “pathetic,” but I don’t want to give the impression that I hold any expectations for Indiana.

Continue reading Feature: Top 5 Most Boring States to Drive Through Pt. 1 - Indiana

“I just peed in here!”

Are you really in need of a break? Gravity’s got your back (or ass). Earthward acceleration at 9.81 m/s² comes to a big pillowy halt:

Couch

Recliner

Ball Pit

Bean Bag Chair

Leaf Pile

The Floor