PEDRO THE LION
Danielle Durack
FRI, 26 JUL 2024 at 08:00PM PDT
Ages: 21 & Over
Doors Open: 08:00PM
OnSale: Fri, 5 Apr 2024 at 10:00AM PDT
Announcement: Tue, 2 Apr 2024 at 07:00AM PDT
Early
into
Santa
Cruz,
the
poignant
third
album
in
David
Bazan’
s
ongoing
musical
memoir
of
his
sometimes-uncanny
life,
he
discovers
the
Beatles.
He
is
the
new
kid
from
Arizona
in
a
new
school
in
the
famous
California
coastal
town
where
his
dad
has
accepted
another
post
at
a
Bible
college.
He
and
his
first
friend
there,
Matt,
are
sitting
on
the
carpet
in
Matt’
s
little
bedroom,
flipping
through
the
records
bequeathed
by
his
father
,
when
Bazan
spots
a
familiar
cover—The
White
Album,
known
only
from
a
church
documentary
that
warned
children
of
the
Satanic
secrets
of
“Revolution
9.”
Play
it
backwards,
the
propaganda
said,
and
it
would
of
fer
a
command:
“T
urn
me
on,
dead
man.”
So,
of
course,
the
kids
played
it
forward
and
were
fascinated
by
the
sound,
by
the
imagination,
by
the
act
of
consecrated
creativity
far
outside
of
Christian
rock.
Bazan
was
13.
“T
reading
water
on
the
open
ocean/Then
you
threw
me
out
a
life
ring,”
he
sings,
the
smile
obvious
just
through
the
sound
as
the
beat
picks
up
like
a
racing
pulse,
more
than
three
decades
later
.
“All
I
needed
was
a
little
help
from
a
friend.”
That
is
the
moment
where,
in
many
ways,
the
remarkable
songs
of
Pedro
the
Lion
begin
to
take
shape.
In
2019,
after
a
15-year
break
filled
with
solo
records
and
side-projects,
Bazan
returned
to
the
moniker
under
which
he
had
become
one
of
indie
rock’
s
most
identifiable
voices
and
incisive
songwriters,
Pedro
the
Lion.
He
sort
of
stumbled
into
2019’
s
Phoenix
,
a
char
ged
chronicle
of
his
childhood
there,
while
spending
the
night
with
his
grandparents
during
a
tour
stop.
But
he
soon
understood
that
unpacking
his
peripatetic
youth,
where
his
music
minister
father
shifted
around
the
country
like
a
Marine
moving
bases,
was
helpful,
healing,
and
maybe
even
interesting.
The
gripping
Havasu
followed
in
2022.
Bazan
was
onto
something,
untangling
all
the
ways
his
past
had
both
shaped
and
misshaped
his
present
inside
some
of
his
best
songs
ever
.
That
past
truly
begins
to
become
the
present
on
Santa
Cruz
,
the
most
fraught
and
frank
album
yet
in
a
planned
five-album
arc;
this
one
covers
a
little
less
than
a
decade,
from
just
after
he
turned
13
until
he
turns
toward
adulthood
around
21.
These
songs
ripple
with
the
anxiety
and
ener
gy
of
teenage
awakening—of
hearing
rock
’n’
roll,
of
understanding
that
independent
music
exists,
of
making
out
with
an
older
schoolmate
in
deepest
secret,
of
falling
in
love,
of
finally
starting
to
understand
that
in
order
to
be
yourself
you’re
going
to
need
to
be
something
other
than
your
parents’
vision
of
you.
It
is
the
rawest,
most
af
fecting
and
af
firming
album
Pedro
the
Lion
has
ever
made.
Santa
Cruz
begins
with
a
prayer
that
feels
like
a
dir
ge,
a
synth-led
funeral
march
to
another
town
where
Bazan
knows
no
one.
“If
I
lay
it
down/And
I
keep
my
eyes
on
you,”
he
moans,
steeling
himself
through
self-sacrifice.
“It’ll
all
work
out.”
But
when
he
arrives
in
Santa
Cruz
to
begin
eighth
grade,
the
self-flagellation
comes
quickly
,
Bazan
lecturing
himself
for
the
lameness
of
the
neon-green
backpack
he
picked
out
in
Phoenix
and
the
Christian
rock
that
is
his
lifeblood.
For
decades
now
,
Bazan
has
been
known
for
his
music’
s
deliberate
pace,
often
linked
to
slowcore.
Here,
however
,
he
renders
detailed
images
in
rapid-fire
waves,
his
voice
stapled
atop
the
quick
rhythm
like
never
before
in
order
to
capture
his
nerves
as
he
learns
there
might
be
life
outside
of
his
family’
s
Christian
fiefdom—apocrypha,
whispers
of
sex,
mere
games
of
ping-pong.
But
every
time
stability
seems
to
appear
during
these
1
1
songs,
the
family
is
of
f
to
another
job.
By
ninth
grade,
amid
the
metronomic
mile
markers
of
“T
all
Pines,”
they
are
headed
for
little
Pedro the Lion - Santa Cruz - Album Bio.pdf
Paradise,
where
there
are
dreams
of
drum
sets
and
clandestine
shirtless
make-out
sessions
when
his
parents
are
away
.
W
ith
the
stirring
“Don’
t
Cry
Now
,”
as
close
to
a
dance
track
as
Pedro
the
Lion
has
ever
made,
they’re
bound
for
Seattle,
where
Bazan
found
his
own
fledgling
music
scene,
deepening
friendships,
and
the
dawn
rays
of
what
would
become
his
future.
When
his
family
splits
for
California
yet
again,
he
stays
behind,
living
with
a
friend
just
so
he
can
graduate
from
the
place
where
he’
s
become
so
invested
in
drums,
guitars,
and
songs
that
he’
s
barely
maintained
his
grades.
The
day
after
he
graduates,
he
stuf
fs
everything
he
owns
into
plastic
garbage
bags
and
heads
south
with
his
mom,
returning
to
the
family
flock,
now
in
Modesto.
“Y
ou
sweetly
slept
in
the
passenger
seat/I
gripped
the
wheel,
messed
up
inside,”
he
sings
of
his
mother
during
“Parting,”
his
voice
a
true-to-life
admixture
of
love
and
longing,
of
devotion
and
doubt.
The
six-month
stay
in
Modesto,
though,
would
prove
to
be
among
the
most
transformative
moments
of
his
life,
the
slow-motion
catapult
that
sent
him
into
right
now
.
After
he
quits
selling
vacuum
cleaners
to
sad
women,
he
nabs
a
gig
at
a
guitar
store.
That’
s
where
he
hears
a
crisp
piece
of
lo-fi
wizardry
from
a
local
Modesto
band,
a
moment
that
feels
almost
like
a
Beatles-sized
revelation,
a
permission
slip
that
says
he
can,
in
fact,
make
music
on
a
scale
as
small
as
he
wants.
He
writes
the
first
Pedro
the
Lion
songs
there,
and,
in
the
cathartic
and
gor
geous
climax
of
“Modesto,”
vows
to
return
to
Seattle,
to
be
in
a
band,
to
fall
in
love,
to
be
himself.
Its
successor
,
“Spend
T
ime,”
feels
like
some
skeletal
and
celebratory
arena-rock
anthem,
with
incandescent
harmonies
and
sharp
harmonics
and
slicing
rif
fs.
Back
in
Seattle,
“back
in
his
room,
drumming
with
Paul,”
he
is
on
the
precipice
of
the
rest
of
his
life,
the
life
that
you
now
know
as
a
listener
.
When
Bazan
began
considering
the
times
and
the
songs
that
would
soon
become
Santa
Cruz
,
he
thought
about
fictionalizing
it
all.
He
could
break
with
the
narratives
of
Phoenix
and
Havasu
to
give
himself
and
everyone
else
in
the
story
some
critical
distance.
These
events
are
not
old
news,
after
all,
and
he
worried
about
untangling
the
active
threads
of
the
rather
recent
past
from
right
now
.
And
would
it
seem
like
he
was
scolding
his
parents,
two
people
trying
to
raise
kids
the
best
they
knew
how?
The
result
does
not
feel
like
blame.
It
feels
like
redemption,
like
finding
the
way
forward
for
yourself,
however
it
happens.
“Y
our
grief
is
not
a
burden,”
Bazan
beautifully
sings
in
one
of
the
final
verses.
“It’
s
ener
gy
.”
And
it’
s
currently
powering
one
of
the
most
real,
riveting,
and
powerful
song
cycles
in
memory
,
happening
right
now
.
Important Information:
* This event is 21 & over. Valid ID is required. Minors will not be permitted entry.
* Doors open at the listed event time.
* Event start time is generally one hour after doors open but is subject to change without notice.
* All tickets are nonrefundable with the exception of event cancellation.
* Support acts are subject to change.
This ticket is a revocable license and may be taken up and admission refused upon refunding the purchase price appearing hereon and is grounds for seizure and cancellation without compensation. Holder of this ticket (“Holder”) voluntarily assumes all risks and danger incidental to the event for which this ticket is issued whether occurring prior to, during, or after same, including, but not limited to, contracting, and/or spreading the COVID-19 virus, and agrees that the organization, venue, presenter, agents, participants, or artists are not responsible or liable for any injuries, sickness, or death resulting from such causes. Holder acknowledges that the COVID-19 pandemic remains a threat to individual and public health, COVID-19 is a highly contagious disease transmitted through human contact and respiratory droplets (including through the air and via common surfaces) and it is possible that Holder may contract COVID-19 while at the event for which this ticket is issued. Holder agrees by use of this ticket not to transmit or aid in transmitting any description, account, picture, or reproduction of the event to which this ticket is issued. Breach of the foregoing will automatically terminate this license. Holder agrees that the license comprised by this ticket may be removed and Holder may be ejected from the event for which this ticket is issued in the event that Holder violates any law, ordinance, or venue regulation. Holder grants permission to the organization sponsoring the event for which this ticket is issued to utilize Holder’s image or likeness in connection with any video or other transmission or reproduction of the event to which this ticket relates.
Event Venue
Neumos, 925 E Pike St,Seattle,WA,United States
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