New Pornographers at Diesel

I’ve seen the New Pornographers more than any other band. Yes, even more than the Spinto Band. I’ve seen Carl solo, and Neko solo more than once. I’ve seen the New Pornos in a club the size of my kitchen, a club the size of a stadium, outdoors, indoors, for free as a journo, for free as a fan. I’ve traveled distances to see them. I’ve interviewed several members face-to-face. I’ve seen them with Neko, without Neko, with Dan, without Dan. I’ve seen the Fake Pornographers. I remember Kathryn’s first tour. It’s been almost five years and I still think of her as the new New Pornographer.

It’s not that they’re my favorite band of all time. I just like them. And they never disappoint. Not even at Diesel, which suffers from a view-obstructed interior more amenable to straddling stripper poles hosting Canadian indie-pop harmonies.

The New Pornographers are reliable, well behaved. The chocolate lab of rock ‘n’ roll. Smart, but not enough to irritate. Just ingratiate. An all-around good time. They make you feel loved, and a little less dirty than before you eased up against them.

If you don’t feel loved after a set that starts with “The Slow Descent Into Alcoholism” and wraps with “The Bleeding Heart Show,” then I am sorry, not even homemade pumpkin-oatmeal cookies can save your soul.

And, like always, Neko made me cry. “Challengers.”



There’s just something about this lady.

She murmurs, “The next time you say forever, I will punch you in your face,” and, “If I’m honest, you come to mind. But, baby, I’m not,” and you know she means the same thing Laura Marling means when she wistfully warns, “Lover please, do not fall to your knees, it’s not like I believe in everlasting love.” When you know she does.