Blonde Redhead + Buffalo DaughterCity: Portland, Oregon
Venue: Aladdin Theater
XMuch has been said about Blonde Redhead, and much of it is reductionist: "Italian twin brothers and a Japanese seductress." I can tell you what they sound like (dissonant, melodic, dark) or what they look like (the on-stage body language between Makino and guitarist Pace so intimate you feel filthy and excited watching, like a voyeur, like a criminal). I can describe the double guitar-no bass approach, or the minimalist drumming, or I can speculate about how Kim Gordon's approach to singing seems to have affected the band. But if ever music exemplified the futility of language, Blonde Redhead. Blonde Redhead, screaming and melting down like Yoko at the end of the last song. Blonde Redhead, transport to another world. Blonde Redhead, a world I couldn't see, but always hoped existed. Blonde Redhead didn't say a word to us from the stage. And she never told me exactly why she left. But now I know that you can't always make sense of what's just happened, words don't always work. And some things aren't meant for this world. For me, well --- I'll always think of her when I listen to Blonde Redhead, Stars of the Lid, Her Space Holiday, Wauvenfold. But if you ask me about her, I guess I won't have much to say.
I'm your only friend
Your love will sing for you.
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