Once, back in 1993 or thereabouts, young master gribley came into my office. “Wotcha!”, said I, or something to that effect. Time has blurred my precise memory of the conversation. “Yo La Tengo are playing. We should go and see them”, he said.
“Who are they?”
“A quiet little acoustic, folky band”
“OK”, I said, after mulling it over a little.
Later, we were ensconced in the Club de Wash (now, sadly, burned to the ground). Yo La Tengo came on stage carrying electric guitars, emitting a wailing feedback noise that would have put My Bloody Valentine to shame. They then played 30 minutes or so of electric, feedbank-drenched rock.
Since then I’ve been to see them at every chance I’ve had, including a fine open-air gig with Calexico at Somerset House a couple of years ago.
I noticed that the film Junebug is showing at Greenwich Picturehouse. The description of the film ends, ‘Bolstering its impeccable credentials is a score from Yo La Tengo.’ I may have to go and see it.