Car Seat Headrest – Tickets – Soma – San Diego, CA – July 21st, 2018

Car Seat Headrest

Casbah presents

Car Seat Headrest

Naked Giants

Sat, July 21, 2018

Doors: 7:00 pm / Show: 8:00 pm


San Diego, CA


This event is all ages

Car Seat Headrest
Car Seat Headrest
Car Seat Headrest
Toledo always knew he would return to
Twin Fantasy.
He never did complete the work.
Not really.
could square his grand ambitions against his mechanical limitations.
Listen to his first attempt, recorded at
nineteen on a ch
eap laptop, and you’ll hear what Brian Eno fondly calls “the sound of failure”
extraordinary, and singularly compelling failure.
Will’s first love, rendered in the vivid teenage viscera of
stolen gin, bruised shins, and weird sex, was an even
t too momentous for the medium assigned to record
Even so, even awkward and amateurish,
Twin Fantasy
is deeply, truly adored.
Legions of reverent listeners
carve rituals out of it: sobbing over

Famous Prophets,” making out to ‘Cute Thing’, dancing t
heir asses off
as ‘Bodys’
climbs higher, higher.
The distortion hardly matters. You can hear him just fine.
You can hear
And you can
everything: his hope, his despair, his wild overjoy. He’s trusting you
of you
with the things he can’t say out loud. “
I pretended I was drunk when I came out to
my friends
,” he sings
and then, caught between truths, backtracks: “
I never came out to my friends. We
were all on Skype, and I laughed and changed the subject.”
You mig
ht be imagining an extended diary entry, an angsty transmission from a bygone LiveJournal set to
power chords and cranked to eleven.
You would be wrong.
Twin Fantasy
is not a monologue.
Twin Fantasy
is a conversation.
You know
, he sings,
that I’m mostly s
inging about you
This is Will’s greatest strength as
a songwriter: he spins his own story, but he’s always telling yours, too. Between nods to local details
Harper’s Ferry,
The Yellow Wallpaper
, the Monopoly board collecting dust in his back seat
leaves room
for the fragile stuff of your own life, your own loves. From the very beginning, alone in his bedroom, in his
last weeks of high school, he knew he was writing anthems. Someday, he hoped, you and I might sing these
words back to him.
“It was
never a finished work,” Toledo says, “and it wasn’t until last year that I figured out how to finish it.”
He has, now, the benefit of a bigger budget, a full band in fine form, and endless time to tinker.
to him, it took eight months of mixing j
ust to get the drums right. But this is no shallow second take,
sanitized in studio and scrubbed of feeling. This is the album he always wanted to make. It sounds the way
he always wanted it to sound.
It’s been hard, stepping into the shoes of his teenage
self, walking back to painful places. There are lyrics he
wouldn’t write again, an especially sad song he regards as an albatross. But even as he carries the weight of
that younger, wounded Toledo, he moves forward. He grows. He revises, gently, the songs
we love so
much. In the album’s final moments, in those “
apologies to future me’s and you’s
,” there is more
forgiveness than fury.
This, Toledo says, is the most vital difference between the old and the new: he no longer sees his own story
as a tragedy.
He’s not alone no mo
Venue Information:
3350 Sports Arena Blvd
San Diego, CA