the performers that night was Ravi Fernandes, a costumed toddler whose participation later in the evening would be misunderstood by those who picked up the
Live at Jittery Joe’s
CD expecting just to hear Jeff Mangum. For the twenty or so people in the audience, many of them members of Dixie Blood Moustache, friends or housemates of Jeff, Ravi was not an obnoxious, crying baby, but another artist collaborating with Jeff in his own style, which just happened to be pre-verbal.
Jeff’s performance, which Lance documented in a dimly lit video included on the CD, was an important one. It represented the first public, hometown performance of material that would appear in slightly different forms on
In the
Aeroplane Over the Sea
. “Two-Headed Boy” and “Oh Comely” are much as would be laid down in Denver, and on “The King of Carrot Flowers Pts. Two & Three,” Jeff stops to note “this is where Scott plays his trumpet solo; he’s not here, he’ll be here tomorrow,” and later sings “this is the part of the song where I didn’t write any lyrics.”
Anyone looking to the Jittery Joe’s performance for clues to the meaning and evolution of
In the Aeroplane Over the Sea
should pay special attention to “Two-Headed Boy Pt. Two.” A few months before the album was recorded, Jeff was singing
Aeroplane
’s final song with slightly, yet significantly, different lyrics. The changes are telling, because they suggest that this song, one of the most beautiful on the record, is part of the Anne Frank cycle. The early “Sister please” becomes the euphonious, but nonsensical “Blister please” on the album. A sense of communion is lost when the pronouns are changed, from the original “God is a place we will wait for the rest of our lives” to a declarative “you will wait for the rest of your life.” One line on
Aeroplane
is particularly cryptic, its words deliberately omitted from the lyrics Jeff gave album designer Chris Bilheimer. But at Jittery Joe’s, Jeff doesn’t sing “rings of flowers ’round your eyes and I love you / for the rest of your life in your reeeeeeeeeee;” he sings that second line as “Nineteen forty and five” before opening his throat in a wordless cry.
For Lance Bangs, behind his camera, the Jittery Joe’s performance was revelatory, confirmation that he was right in thinking something extraordinary was happening in Athens. “That was definitely the moment when it seemed apparent that this wasn’t just a good band that was happening—it was like having Van Morrison at his peak of
Astral Weeks
goingon. An entire new poetic language of imagery that wasn’t contrived and didn’t rely on the same sort of whining or confessional singer–songwriter thing that had been happening at that point; here was something new that was emotional and direct.”
When Jeff sang the lyrics “I love you Jesus Christ / Jesus Christ I love you, yes I do,” Lance found it shocking. There’s a lot of Christianity in the South, but within the weirdo musical subculture represented by the people in that room, such a naked expression of faith was completely unexpected. And compelling. Lance couldn’t wait to see what Jeff would say or do next. “It kinda made it clear that he was writing expressively, but maybe wasn’t overly worried about what other people thought or crafting things to make it easy on his audience. Here was someone who was a bit more fucked up and challenging and visceral.”
Lance believed the Jittery Joe’s performance was too good to be heard by just a handful of friends. He starting dubbing cassette copies that he’d pass along to the creative types he encountered in his travels. Michael Stipe got a copy; so did Spike Jonze, and various record company people, filmmakers, photographers. “I felt so clearly that this was a John Lennon–caliber person, that people really needed to hear how special this was. People were really blown away and into it. They would ask about it and
Live at Jittery Joe’s
CD expecting just to hear Jeff Mangum. For the twenty or so people in the audience, many of them members of Dixie Blood Moustache, friends or housemates of Jeff, Ravi was not an obnoxious, crying baby, but another artist collaborating with Jeff in his own style, which just happened to be pre-verbal.
Jeff’s performance, which Lance documented in a dimly lit video included on the CD, was an important one. It represented the first public, hometown performance of material that would appear in slightly different forms on
In the
Aeroplane Over the Sea
. “Two-Headed Boy” and “Oh Comely” are much as would be laid down in Denver, and on “The King of Carrot Flowers Pts. Two & Three,” Jeff stops to note “this is where Scott plays his trumpet solo; he’s not here, he’ll be here tomorrow,” and later sings “this is the part of the song where I didn’t write any lyrics.”
Anyone looking to the Jittery Joe’s performance for clues to the meaning and evolution of
In the Aeroplane Over the Sea
should pay special attention to “Two-Headed Boy Pt. Two.” A few months before the album was recorded, Jeff was singing
Aeroplane
’s final song with slightly, yet significantly, different lyrics. The changes are telling, because they suggest that this song, one of the most beautiful on the record, is part of the Anne Frank cycle. The early “Sister please” becomes the euphonious, but nonsensical “Blister please” on the album. A sense of communion is lost when the pronouns are changed, from the original “God is a place we will wait for the rest of our lives” to a declarative “you will wait for the rest of your life.” One line on
Aeroplane
is particularly cryptic, its words deliberately omitted from the lyrics Jeff gave album designer Chris Bilheimer. But at Jittery Joe’s, Jeff doesn’t sing “rings of flowers ’round your eyes and I love you / for the rest of your life in your reeeeeeeeeee;” he sings that second line as “Nineteen forty and five” before opening his throat in a wordless cry.
For Lance Bangs, behind his camera, the Jittery Joe’s performance was revelatory, confirmation that he was right in thinking something extraordinary was happening in Athens. “That was definitely the moment when it seemed apparent that this wasn’t just a good band that was happening—it was like having Van Morrison at his peak of
Astral Weeks
goingon. An entire new poetic language of imagery that wasn’t contrived and didn’t rely on the same sort of whining or confessional singer–songwriter thing that had been happening at that point; here was something new that was emotional and direct.”
When Jeff sang the lyrics “I love you Jesus Christ / Jesus Christ I love you, yes I do,” Lance found it shocking. There’s a lot of Christianity in the South, but within the weirdo musical subculture represented by the people in that room, such a naked expression of faith was completely unexpected. And compelling. Lance couldn’t wait to see what Jeff would say or do next. “It kinda made it clear that he was writing expressively, but maybe wasn’t overly worried about what other people thought or crafting things to make it easy on his audience. Here was someone who was a bit more fucked up and challenging and visceral.”
Lance believed the Jittery Joe’s performance was too good to be heard by just a handful of friends. He starting dubbing cassette copies that he’d pass along to the creative types he encountered in his travels. Michael Stipe got a copy; so did Spike Jonze, and various record company people, filmmakers, photographers. “I felt so clearly that this was a John Lennon–caliber person, that people really needed to hear how special this was. People were really blown away and into it. They would ask about it and
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