Despite what Wikipedia would have you believe, the Thurston Moore solo catalog is fucking immense, and most of it is full-on noise apocalyptic, limited-edition cassette-only recordings of an iconoclast manchild, his mis-tuned guitars, and his atrophied amplifiers wilding the fuck out. I've been in attendance at a handful of Sonic Youth concerts over the years, but never one of Moore's by-his-lonesome love-ins, so I have no clue what those of you planning to queue up for tonight's show at the Varsity Theater are in for.
An educated guess: he'll lean heavy on the sensitive, avuncular abominable-scree tunes from his two Matador LPs, maybe throw in a selection from Psychic Hearts, tease with some ear-splitting improve or the introduction to "Sugar Kane" or something, because even though he's starting to sound his age, Moore's still an asshole at heart.
Regardless of what Mr. Kim Gordon has up his sleeve, Gimme Noise encourages you to beg, bribe, and otherwise con him into performing the following five songs.
Sandwiched between two polar-opposite bookends - the strum und drone of "Sensitive" and the armageddon orgasm "Lethal" - "Lonesome" elevates the phenomenon of squeaking from minor nuisance to full-on irritant, Moore's axe somehow tapping into and exploiting (seemingly in loop form) a wellspring of feedback that suggests the jaws of life rending the same crashed Honda Civic open over and over and over again, forever, in exactly the same way, without ever managing to save whoever is trapped inside. Likelihood of Moore playing this tonight: 2,000,000 to 1.
Remember when a Thurston Moore solo joint was capable of making you wish your ears didn't work, that you didn't understand American English? Yeah, us too, and songs like this are why - not because of the plodding, gnarly hook or the righteous 'tude in his delivery, but because lyrically dude really, like, reveled in going out there unedited with no sense of shame or embarrassment or anything. At least "Cindy" is more palatable than, say, "Ono Soul." Likelihood of Moore playing this tonight: 8 to 1.
Wherein you learn, in case you weren't quite aware - if you thought Moore could only really operate in the rhythm guitar or cyclone-texture guitar realms and nowhere else - that if he wants to, if he's really of mind to, Moore can play you under the table anytime, can rock circles around you, can shred on a metal-god level. Personally, I can take or leave most of Academy, the bulk of it, but this sucker is a keeper for sure. Likelihood of Moore playing this tonight: 60 to 1.
"Oh Sweet Lanolin," from Flipped Out Bride (Blossoming Noise, 2006)
A sweet, slow build from unadorned low-impact strum to what sounds like an aggrieved coop of chickens trying to claw their way out of Moore's amps. Twelve erudite minutes. I looked high and low for a YouTube link for this one, wasn't happening. Your loss. Likelihood of Moore playing this tonight: 4,000,000 to 1.
Do not pass go, do not collect $200, do not let Moore leave the building without spreading this tune's quivery, shivery dream-logic bliss everywhere like apple butter on warm vegan toast. Likelihood of Moore playing this tonight: 4 to 1.