Last Wednesday during the Grandaddy show at the Crocodile, I could barely speak. If pre-pubescent girls react to boy bands by nearly wetting their panties, I react to Grandaddy with blundered speech.
I-I-I love Grandaddy!
Consisting of five guys who look like they reside in a shack, Grandaddy make pretty music, plain and simple. Music about birds and computers and lakes. Their two full-length records to date -- Under the Western Freeway and The Sophtware Slump (available May 16) -- are tight little nuggets of epic brilliance, like OK Computer recorded in the middle of the woods. Both are available on the V2 label, home to Mercury Rev, and it's easy to make comparisons between the two bands. But while Mercury Rev's Deserter Songs strove for an outlandish smartypants poetry, Grandaddy's records sound like five guys noodling around in a barn, who suddenly stumble across something beautiful.
Live, the five members of Grandaddy play eight instruments (two guitars, bass, drums, drum machine, and three keyboards) and they do it very, very well. The last time they came to town, nearly two years ago, there were maybe 10 people in the audience, but last Wednesday, there were close to 200. Evidently the word is out, or getting out, and Grandaddy didn't disappoint their new listeners. It was a perfect night, and a perfect show, for Grandaddy to come out of hiding.
