Postcard from Bloomington: Japonize Elephants perform at a tribute to Evan Farrell at Bluebird Nightclub on Jan. 20.
By Dina Maccabee
A lot of emotions have been pouring out during the last month over the loss of once-Oakland-based musician Evan Farrell. I'm not even sure if the details that have been circulating on the Internet about what happened on Dec. 21 - when the Oakland house where Farrell was staying caught fire - are correct. For me, and I think for everyone, there are bigger questions than how the blaze started - like what is death, anyway? And how do I sort out my empathy for Farrell and his family from my own selfish fears and anxieties about living a worthwhile life and, ultimately, ceasing to exist?
Evan Farrell. Photo by Jeremy Baron.
I played with Farrell in the Japonize Elephants, which why I made the trip to Bloomington, Ind., a week or so ago to participate in the Jan. 20 memorial for him. The Elephants started out in Bloomington - and Farrell had moved back a few years ago after playing with Rogue Wave, among others - so for most of the band, the trip represented an almost overwhelming mixture of grief and nostalgia, a chance to reconnect with old friends and places under heartbreaking circumstances. I had a different perspective as a newcomer eager to discover the birthplace of this fearlessly bizarre, creative, close-knit group, whom I started playing with about three years ago in the Bay Area, hoping to offer some support and comfort to Farrell's closest friends.
Evan Farrell. Photo by Jeremy Baron.
While no one knew quite what to do in the aftermath of Farrell's death, one thing that seemed obvious was to get together and play music. It felt a little wrong to be excited about playing an Elephants reunion show back in Bloomington, with band members arriving from California, Colorado, and New York - but without Farrell. You could say we were getting back together because he would have wanted us to. But, of course, really, we wanted to. How else to recapture some of the absurdity, spontaneity, mirth, and adrenaline that were Farrell's trademarks, on and off stage?
Evan Farrell in pink with Japonize Elephants.
It also felt a little wrong for the show, at the Bluebird, to be so fun. Each act - I believe all of whom had worked with Farrell at some point - was fantastic.
Golden Gram (Gram LeBron with Pat Spurgeon and Sylvain Carton) played a set of sweet, clever, and catchy folk songs that I absolutely loved. I hope to catch him doing this material in the Bay Area when he's not on the road. Drakkar Sauna, from Lawrence, Kansas, helped work it all out by sounding like They Might Be Giants crossed with Rube Waddell. "My heart has been replaced with stalks of wheat, now I'm the bread that no one eats," they sang. Or something close to that. I have no idea what their name means, but as a two-person band with guitars, a portable organ, a kick drum, and harmony vocals that grab you by the throat, they drove it all the way home. The Hollows, Kentucky Nightmare, Thousand Arrows, and Crooked County also played - parts of the show were a bit of a blur for me, but everyone rocked and belted with genuine emotion, and I danced to every band.
It was a great, great show that made us all feel strangely better, just for having gotten up there and making a bunch of noise. I guess the moral of that story is, music is therapy. For some of us, it might even be life. Or at least, a good reason to live.
Thank you, Evan!
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