Last Saturday I was introduced to a Japanese accoustic band named Mono. They played the local Bluebird Theatre, and I was given a ticket by a friend. What an excellent little present, perfectly wrapped in surprise and scant expectation since I knew nothing about their sound before walking in the door.

Labeled post-rock by my friends*, Mono uses no vocals. I would have been carried away into the music, except for the strange Denver habit of choosing to hold complex personal conversations at concerts. (This may be true for other cities, but I seem to experience especially here). Good acoustic music builds from quiet to crescendo, something Mono does with a delicate, almost tinny, skill. Unfortuantely the quiet parts of songs are where people decide it’s an excellent time to discuss anything from their redecoration to what breed of dog they think is the ugliest. It’s something that’s been bugging me for a long time, and I usually attempt to avoid such Internet rants: but seriously, people, if you want to have these conversations in a public venue, why don’t you go to a coffee shop instead of paying upwards of $50 for a concert ticket?

I’ve found a new sound to brainstorm to, and I’ve happily ripped the cds into my iPod, where thankfully my earbuds will let me be alone with the music. Give Mono a listen, and if you get the chance, see them live. It’s impressive that they maintain such a complex sound in a live environment.

*I have no idea what that means, but Geoff’s comparison to Sigur Ros helped.