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Hello! TNI Books (tnibooks.com)
has occupied this website for a brief period of time. It will be
over before you know it, and odds are good that if you've come here
in search of something interesting, you won't go away disappointed.
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Welcome to the
LITTLE ENGINES Issue Three Electronic Reading Tour!
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excerpts from Les Savy Fav: Cheerleaders
for the Apocalypse
interview and story by Mike Daily
Lifter Puller singer/guitarist Criag Finn,
now lyricist for The Brokerdealer, sums up everything he has to
say about Les Savy Fav in this anecdote:
"We played with them in Detroit at this
club called the Gold Dollar," Craig says. "The first band,
a local band, was playing to a pretty much empty room. As part of
their set, this band was auctioning off items from their living
room. They attempted to get the bidding going on a lamp. 'Do I hear
one dollar? Would anybody want to buy this lamp for one dollar
?'
No takers. Finally, Tim Harrington, frontman for Les Savy Fav, stands
up and gives him a dollar and takes the lamp
"Tim brought the lamp back to the Les
Savy Fav merch table and put a Les Savy Fav sticker on the lampshade.
Later that evening the club was full and the band was putting on
a typically amazing show. Tim pulls out the very same lamp and says,
'Who wants to buy a Les Savy Fav lamp for $10?' He sold it immediately
to a guy in the front row."
* * * *
lyrics: "hip hip for imperfection /
I want to make a mess / I've got a secret theory / that disarray
works best / and though it can't work often / oh my God when it
does / watch as the outburst softens / it's had its way with us
These lines really say a lot to me about
Les Savy Fav.
As the band races in their tour van from
San Francisco to Los Angeles to make a show that evening at the
Troubadour club, where I'll be seeing them for the first time, I
tell this to Seth, the guitarist in the band, by phone.
"Really, that's awesome," Seth
says. He relays it to the rest of the band: "He says that those
are lines that really say a lot to him about us."
"I could see that," Tim says.
* * * *
The wordplay of Tim's lyrics can be playful
but it can also be dark.
"Yeah, I feel that way too, I guess,"
He tells me. "I agree with that. Lyrically I like to do a sort
of cheerleading, the idea of sort of like a bleak cheer. The kind
of thing that you sing along and then all of a sudden you're like,
'Wait, what do those lyrics mean? Someone else might say,
'Well, it's heavy lyrics, it's got to be sung in a heavy manner.'
Or everything's got to be just so sincere. I'm much more
interested in this, sort of like the tension of, 'Oh, this sound
sounds one way - the mood, the tone is more subtle, more complicated,
so you have to do a cheerleading'
someone who would be like
Cheerleader for the Apocalypse. Like, cheerleading bad news."
He laughs. "Something you feel and you're like, 'Huh, that
makes me feel good and bad at the same time.'"
* * * *
That night at the Troubadour, Tim is in especially
fine fettle. He's wearing a gauzy scarf that he says belongs to
his mom. "Does your mom dress you?" a guy in the audience
says. Tim doesn't hear him. The music commences with authority and
he hoists the weighty mic stand overhead, singlehandedly balancing
it upside down before setting it back down and rushing the front
of the stage. Apocalypse now. He crouches to shout lines in audience
members' faces, which show surprise, exhilaration, wonder.
Respect.
The singer takes off his shirt and pats his
protruding belly. He veils his face with the scarf then simulates
a bra with it. The music is getting to him and he pours half a bottle
of red wine over his head, vocally going off like a fringe character
in a low-budget movie. He takes a big slug from the bottle and motions
to a guy near the front to open his mouth. The guy shakes his head,
no, smiling. Another volunteers and the wine is dribbled from mouth
to mouth, with some success. Tim balances an apple on his head and
stands at attention, then picks it off and chomps at it, pieces
crumbling from his mouth. He changes into a shirt that says NEW
YORK CITY, people cheering it. Was the prop an oblique reference
to The Big Apple? Out come flashlights. Tim steps offstage into
the crowd and collapses to the floor, still singing. Then he's back
on stage. He goes into the wings and returns with a blue blanket,
which he drapes over the shoulders of Seth like a cape.
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For a paper copy of this story, along with
other fine surprises, check out the newest issue of LITTLE ENGINES
at tnibooks.com.
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