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INTERPOL.
Things have been busy here. As expected. Sixty days in a row and I've just recently stopped searching the radio for the weather forecast in the seven minutes I have in the car from my bed to the winery. Something that would have set the pace of play. Something I could have sung to myself over the hum of the crushing equipment. Something that would have had the crescendo of a Philip Glass composition with the fits and starts of a tractor dropping thousand pound bins of grape clusters on the concrete. Diesel fuel and grape must are the vigneron's bacon and eggs breakfast. Where were the anthems that defined the vintage? In Italy 2005, we had the Euro Pop-Rock of Zero Assoluto, Baustelle, Biagio Antonacci, Franki Hi-Nrg Mc, Negramaro and the loathed or loved Jovanotti interspersed with a steady play of Oasis' then released album, Don't Believe the Truth. "The Importance of Being Idle" during harvest was something we all looked forward to. Last year at Copain's Custom Crush facility, there was a spicy Mexican tune that played repeatedly, like sports or news on the 'ones.' A catchy jingle that must have been a wedding party favorite. And it became our favorite because we could set our pump-overs to it. This year. There is dearth. Filled with Classic Rock on stations named after Napa and Sonoma neighbors, Bob and Alice, repeating their play lists morning, noon and night. When you are working ten or fourteen hour days, you don't need to hear Benny and the Jets nine or fifteen times. God Bless Elton, but c'mon, the flight landed circa 1973. Which happens to be the year of my birth and the title of a new song released by the love-lorn, Yves Gangloff-looking, James Blunt. Yes, James, it is harvest. "Here we go again." Spice it up a little. Uncork the Condrieu. However, there is one band, but I can't site them as my defining band or song of Harvest '07, because they have been a favorite and a regular on the iPod for years now. INTERPOL. The International Criminal Police Organization, better known by its telegraphic address Interpol, is an organization facilitating international police cooperation established in 1923. Interpol. Skinny guys in skinny pants slinging vintage guitars and vintage attitudes. (New York magazine defining the last NYC band standing.) New Yorkers, like myself, Interpol sings with ethereal sophistication. They have depth, but are always focused. Brooding, but open and accessible. They have a sweet intensity to their melodies. Vigor and viscosity; never piss and vinegar. We can only hope to craft wines with such attributes. A lyric from Obstacle 2 friends don't waste wine when there's words to sell On Saturday, October 20th, these guys sold it like pros. All business from the start of the set to the finish. At the Bill Graham Civic Auditorium in San Francisco, a space more conducive to conceal inmates with a view of the gymnasium, the music from the boys in the bespoke, mod-style suits boomed. At most live shows, you are attacked from the floor up, with a lot of bass that helps pump the blood through your aorta, causing chest convulsions and a panic attack. Interpol comes at you from the top down. Circling, never suffocating. And they never stopped. Communication to the camera phone blue light crowd was limited to "thank you," "good to be back in San Francisco," "thank you, good night." It was a good night, at a great show with a ruthlessly professional rock and roll band. Buy your tickets now, expect the OC crowd to be in full effect and sip on your watered-down sixteen ounce beers while the band plays on.
Post - October'07 Back to home...
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