AVQ&A What was your favorite Madison show of 2009?

Welcome to AVQ&A, where we throw out a question for discussion among the staff and readers. Consider this a prompt to compare notes on your interface with pop culture, to reveal your embarrassing tastes and experiences, and to ponder how our diverse lives all led us to convene here together. This time we ask: What was your favorite Madison show-going experience of 2009, and why?

Jason Albert
Hands down, no contest, with a motherfucking bullet, The Hold Steady in July at the Majestic Theatre. Full disclosure: I like THS a lot. A lot, a lot. Probably more than it’s healthy for a grown-up person to like anything. It was my first THS show, and it lived up to every expectation: sold-out sausage party, louder than hell, and they played everything that matters. Basically it was the most fun I’ve ever had rubbing up against a roomful of sweaty, drunken men for two hours. No make of alcohol was left unexplored, and by the end of the night, the room looked like a Civil War battlefield. I’m guessing Craig Finn and the hoodrats would have been proud. Close, but still in a distant tie for second, were The Thermals in April, and The Antlers at September's Forward Music Fest (both at the High Noon Saloon). The Thermals, well, just because they’re awesome. The Antlers because the show was so completely unexpected. I thought (like a moron who didn’t bother to check out the album beforehand) it would be faceless, ho-hum lo-fi. Instead it was deeply personal and ethereal, and moved me as close to tears as watching people play instruments ever has. If THS was a speedball, The Antlers was a Vicodin mixed with a couple fingers of 10-year single-malt, and no metaphorical shoulders anywhere in sight to lean on.

Ben Munson
I went to see Japandroids at the High Noon in September with no prior knowledge of the band and left with a head full of dreams and a heart full of love. I like guitar players who jump on top of bass drums, drummers who play so hard they need to put cinder blocks in front of their kits to keep them from flying off the stage, and huge fucking choruses. And this show had them all in spades, not to mention that guitarist Brian King using the word "fuck" enough for it to be considered a third member of the band. I felt so refreshed and invigorated after the show it was like getting a colonic for my soul. If there was another show this year that rivaled Japandroids for fun times, it was Built To Spill at the Barrymore Theatre in September, but for completely differently reasons. Lead singer Doug Martsch's wooden stage presence perfectly matched the log-cabin aesthetic of his wooly beard, but when his mind-blowing guitar chops wrapped their arms around me, I was home. As if that wasn't enough, he gave me a free shirt for correctly guessing whose face was printed on his t-shirt (It was Kurt Vonnegut! Thanks, Back To School!)

Mike King
Bands are great 'n all, but crowds are what can really make or break a show. Case in point: before their name appeared crowded on the Crystal Corner Bar's teensy marquee in October, it's a safe bet that I hadn't uttered the words "Poster Children" in the 21st century. Sure, I dutifully spun Junior Citizen and Just Like You in the mid-’90s, like any other Midwesterner rooting for a flyover act to go national. But as with a lot of fine bands, I left them in adolescence. That’s apparently not the case for tons of Madisonians, because the Crystal was packed with graying rock nerds who seemed to know every word. Hardly a nostalgia trip, that night the Poster Children seemed absolutely vital—where had I been all these years? Even the band seemed a little caught off-guard by the enthusiasm, plowing through their set with dazed grins on their faces, and the makeshift stage floorboards quaking under their pogoing feet. Encores often seem like silly transactions, with the audience obligated to beg for more when they've actually had quite enough. Not at this gig: We wanted that encore. And then another. Hell, I would've gone for a third. In the cold light of day, I’m still not spinning their records, but I’m still thinking about that show. Which begs the question—why aren’t more rock shows at corner bars like this? What I wouldn't give to have seen Davila 666 blow the roof of this place instead of the quarter-full Majestic, or bellied up the bar during The Dutchess And The Duke instead of risking frostbite on the Terrace.

Scott Gordon
Like it or not, Mike's right that crowds can hijack the vibe of a show for good or ill. The best crowds I've been a part of all year were at The Weakerthans' and The Thermals' shows at the High Noon—a lot of those people knew the lyrics better than I did, and their genuine excitement fed right back out through the bands. I'm still baffled at how small the crowd was for Ghostface Killah at the Barrymore, and how few people followed Sunset Rubdown's lyrical instructions to move around at an excellent High Noon show. This year I've even seen two wonderfully danceable African-style bands have to literally remind the crowd, "It's OK to dance." That would be Extra Golden at The Annex, and Occidental Brothers Dance Band International at the Orpheum Stage Door during the Forward Music Festival. Speaking of Forward Fest, I was pretty disconcerted by how messy and overloaded with bands it was, but it still made for some extraordinary moments—seeing Low at the High Noon (and, like Jason, having The Antlers' set catch me entirely off-guard), and seeing Collections Of Colonies Of Bees in the Capitol Theater. I think we've also been treated to some great live hip-hop this year, including The Mighty Underdogs at the Majestic, Brother Ali at the Barrymore, and CunninLynguists at the High Noon Saloon. Finally, I never would've guessed that a reunited Meat Puppets would make songs like "Up On The Sun" sound even better than the original version at The Annex.

Bob Marshall
Well, as long as we’re on the whole subject of crowd participation, I think I have to start at the Memorial Union Rathskeller. Los Campesinos!’ February show transformed the college beer hall into a riotous basement-esque venue, with a perpetual wave of a mosh-pit belting out every lyric with faux-British accents. Diplo’s April show saw the venue morph into a dance club, with hands pumping in rhythm and dozens of people on stage while simultaneously attempting to protect the DJs' super expensive gear from the legions pushing forward. As for Foward Music Fest, my highlight was Sleeping In The Aviary’s organic, late-hours set to about 30 diehard fans. The crowd was rocking as furiously as the band, a pretty amazing feat for 1 a.m. Finally, you can say what you want about the sound or the fans annoying the bands, but seeing Deerhunter, Dan Deacon, and No Age sharing the Memorial Union Terrace stage on a beautiful summer night was a surreal experience.

Joel Shanahan
My favorite live artists are those that leave me slack-jawed and googly-eyed by using strong visuals that sync seamlessly with their music. For instance, nothing sets off the Butthole Surfers' "BBQ Pope" like a film collage of exploding heads, sliced eyebals, and penis surgery. However, the Surfers' bad acid trip at the Barrymore in October wasn't the only show feeding my yearnings for twisted eyesores. Killdozer's reunion at High Noon offered enough audience-baiting sleaze to achieve a similar effect—only without the help of projections. Bassist-vocalist Michael Gerald stumbled and kicked drunkenly across the stage in his cowboy boots, as his gravel-choked drawl whirled over the riffs of Bill Hobson and Paul Zagoras. Of course, a good performance doesn't always require great showmanship; J Mascis had the presence of a lawn ornament when Dinosaur Jr. hit the Majestic in October. Still, the room was washed in a rippling wave of the band’s M.O.; screeching guitar, fuzzy bass, and jaded vocals. Similarly, Emmylou Harris' haunting vibrato was hypnotizing during her all-too-short performance at Overture Hall in October. And last but not least, it was a pleasure to have New Orleans’ innovative electro-poppers Quintron And Miss Pussycat send me into a rare, sweaty dancing fit when they brought a psychedelic puppet show and arsenal of homemade instruments to the High Noon in April.