First, the good news:

Soulwax have finally rescheduled their 2020 U.S. tour dates, which were postponed from winter to early fall due to production issues. Originally, I had been scheduled to hit both the Philadelphia and New York dates this past weekend, and was heartbroken when the announcement was made that their monumental stage set up would simply not be ready in time. I have submitted my PTO request for New York and Philly, Round Two, and if denied I may very well fly to Chicago or take an Amtrak to Boston for the new dates which fall on weekends. The last time I saw Soulwax was November 2, 2011, at the pre-renovation Webster Hall, and it was a night I’ll never forget. Tiga and Auto Body opened, and I got hammered with a South African couple who generously bought me overpriced Jack and Cokes all night. I was so drenched in sweat by the end of it I almost forgot my coat at the coat check – it didn’t even occur to me that I’d ever needed or brought one. I woke up half-deaf for my retail shift in the morning and it felt like a javelin had been lobbed between my eyes. Worth it.

This blog is about rock music, with a few notable exceptions. Soulwax, my gateway drug to electronic music, is the pivotal one. Perhaps it is unfair to classify them as “electronic” musicians at all: Soulwax began as an alternative rock band out of Ghent, Belgium, the brainchild of brothers David and Stephen Dewaele. The electronic gesturing began with the 2004 album Any Minute Now, and doubled down with Nite Versions in 2005, which was simply Any Minute Now remixed by the band and bookended with a few new compositions.

I became aware of Soulwax in 2008, during the tour supporting the release of Part of the Weekend Never Dies, both a documentary on the band’s mercilessly exacting tour circuit and selected live performances of Nite Versions in full. I was intrigued by this progression in itself: there was the rock band, then the rock band which became an electronic reinvention of itself, and at last it was those remixed versions of the songs which were brought to concert halls, embedded once more within all the signifiers of rock band.

It is the Live at Leeds of dance recordings, and my adoration was instant and all-consuming. Hearing PotWND for the first time was one of those clouds-parting, brain-reorganizing experiences where I felt the earth move under my feet and my neurons in the process of re-wiring themselves. I bought every album and listened to whole damn discography, start to finish, from alt-rock ancestry to electronic evolutionary endpoint. I considered spray-painting “SOULWAX IS GOD” on the walls of the Purchase College campus. I thought about tattooing it on my forehead. Soulwax smudged at the boundaries between rock and dance, bringing live drummers and bassists on tour, playing vintage analog synths with all the physical enthusiasm, sweat, and theatrics of a guitarist wringing solos off a fretboard. Audiences got dangerously into it: drugged out, fucked up, losing clothing, jumping up and down in a single coordinated mass and occasionally getting wheeled out on stretchers.

In other words, Soulwax is rock ‘n’ roll, brought back to its bacchanalian teenage fundamentals. You may observe below:

I would recommend watching the documentary in its entirety, which is equal parts fascinating, hilarious, and terrifying. It is also extremely 2008 (those pants! Those side-swept bangs! Those flip phones!). The above is the so-called Live at Leeds portion of the film, condensed into an uninterrupted set. You may wish to forward to around 47:30 for the climactic closing song, “NY Excuse.” Nancy Whang of LCD Soundsystem contributed vocals to the studio recording, and ironically she hates the song (wonder how she feels about the original “Funkytown,” from which the central groove is hijacked), but it happens to be my personal favorite, and not just because I’m a New Yorker who is running out of good excuses to live here. IS IT GOOD ENOUGH FOR WHAT YOU’RE PAYING? [sobbing as I cut my rent check]

Speaking of New York… the bad news! There are 76 confirmed cases of Coronavirus in the state as I write this. I consider myself a reasonable person, with rational, evidence-based anxieties: dying alone, collapsing sidewalk sheds and air conditioners falling out of windows, saying “you too” instead of “thank you” when the clerk at the lunch counter tells me to enjoy my meal. I don’t fear that a viral pandemic will take me or my loved ones out, though I do think there’s reason to believe more of us might eventually fall ill than not, and I have the great fortune of 1) commuting to work in a large, crowded city where they stack us on top of one another in little sardine tins, and 2) residing in a country without socialized medicine. Technically, I have bigger things to worry about than whether or not my stack of spring tours will be nuked or postponed, but this is my music blog, and that’s where my head is at. I was sounding the alarm weeks ago, and friends were brushing me off as a hysterical hand-wringer (which admittedly I am), but my fears for the effect on live music are coming to fruition. Given the looming specter of contagion, you’d figure that large, crowded gatherings of people would be the first to go, regardless of whether such precautions are scientifically warranted.

Already, BTS, Green Day, Avril Lavigne, and Marilyn Manson have pulled out of show dates in areas of outbreak. Wolf Parade called off their whole tour. SXSW is straight up canceled, full stop, which will prompt a domino effect for satellite tours that hinged on the event. The city of Austin and its workforce will be out hundreds of millions of revenue, and bands which paid out of pocket to play the festival will be forced to eat the costs.

I anticipate more of this as infections spread, and as insurance companies remove coverage related to the virus from their policies. I may not be an epidemiologist or an economist, but I am the grim variety of realist, and this is shaping up to be a very difficult spring for artists who rely on touring revenue to support themselves, especially right after the annual winter lull. Things will get worse before they get better. Show-goers: brace yourself for the inevitable disappointments – there will be many – and an industry in a state of suspended animation. We will come out the other side, god willing, with the good times correspondingly rescheduled.

You could tell me that Bowery Ballroom was an Ebola hotbed and I’d probably still be plastering myself to the front of the stage, provided the artists were willing to risk the same close quarters. I don’t blame touring bands – who are subject to draconian insurers, and pass through a months-long revolving door of crowded airports and concert halls – for electing to play it safe. It’s also vitally important for us to take any measures necessary to keep our elderly and/or immunocompromised safe from a potentially deadly infection. With that said, I would be terribly dismayed if the 2020 Threat of Viral Apocalypse strangled all the fun out of nightlife for the near future. What good is an apocalypse if you can’t dance to it?

On that note:

(HO-LEE SHEE-IT. See you in October, fellas. I hope.)

If you are healthy, able, and not under quarantine, it is right now, more than ever, that you should be out supporting your local bars, restaurants, bands, and venues who are going to take a serious financial hit in the midst of Corona-madness.

So go forth, party hard, wash your hands, and soldier on.

Until next Sunday,

-Bux