Last week, I saw Godspeed You Black Emperor! at the Knitting Factory in New York. The event was a benefit for the Anthology Film Archives, so the concert opened with over an hour of short, experimental films by "neglected" Canadian filmmakers from the '70s. All of these black and white films were-- surprise!-- self- indulgent visual collages, offering slight variations on a vague theme. Maybe we could have appreciated them if we weren't so packed together, our asses stuck to the sticky floor, all of us sweaty and dehydrated. Maybe. But soon it didn't matter. The films ended, necks craned, and Godspeed took the stage.

Hours before, I'd asked my brother, "I wonder how long they can do this-- strings, building guitar, excerpted vocal-- before it gets old." Oops. They can do it as long as they want. Almost every song was new, and all of it was simultaneously unnerving and miraculous, like watching an animal go from birth to death in the span of one 10-minute song. And this fully-functioning organism, Godspeed, just kept bearing these mini-lives even after the fire trucks came and went, leaving only a fraction of the original crowd.

Live at the Blue Room is nothing like this, and the reason is simple: there are no jammed bodies, no sticky floors, no sweat. In other words, like any live album, there's nothing live about it. It's the paradox that explains why there are so few live albums in your collection (well, that and the obvious fact that live albums make up only a minuscule fraction of all released albums).

Let's face it. Musically speaking, most straightforward indie bands aren't amazing live acts. You're there for the raw energy and shared experience, which can't be captured on ½" analog tape. Even the Godspeed show wouldn't sound that amazing on tape, though at least it would have unreleased material. Unfortunately, besides Burning Airlines' "Voices in the Wire," there's no new material on Live at the Blue Room from the more popular acts (which also include the Dismemberment Plan, Edith Frost, Richard Buckner and Braid). And the songs that did make the cut don't sound remarkably different from the album versions. Certainly, the Plan's Travis Morrison occasionally changes his inflection and pacing on "What Do You Want Me to Say?" Sadly, it's not enough to warrant dropping $13 on this record.

Live at the Blue Room suffers and thrives because of its parameters: all of these songs were recorded over the last two years at the Blue Room, a theater in Chico, California that has become increasingly popular with touring indie acts since it opened in 1993. Naturally, there's neither continuity from track to track nor artistic consistency, but the album showcases a number of lesser-known bands that deserve attention. L.A. natives Tsar offer "Silver Shifter," a catchy, pop-punk mini-ballad. On "Shakedown Cruise," Aaron Stauffer of Gardener exhibits a wider, more rural sound than his other band, Seaweed. And the instrumental surf-pop of local band Antfarm proves that they're the Blue Room's best-kept secret.

While these bands hold their own, others simply get the >>| button. The Imps' "Artichoke Heart," for instance, sounds like Sebadoh's Jason Loewenstein covering the Cure's "Boys Don't Cry"-- no touch, all thrust. D.C.'s Most Secret Method is the poor man's Jawbox, and the Farewell Bend is just, well... poor. The album's final number, Fun World on Fire's 7+ minute-long "I Was the Technical Director for That" is everything that's wrong with post-rock (you know, mediocrity-via-repetition).

The production is also noticeably inconsistent. Sometimes there's audience noise, sometimes there isn't. Sometimes the between-song banter is funny and informative, sometimes it isn't. In two instances, the sloppy hands that pieced this album together let the track go a few seconds too long before stopping it, so that just as a band begins another song, the track ends and a new band's song begins. And this isn't the most annoying feature. The album's ninth and tenth songs were accidentally combined on track nine, so that every song thereafter is one track off.

Given the range of genre and popularity represented on Live at the Blue Room, it's no surprise that the record is hit-and-miss. So you have to ask yourself, "Do I want this album for average live songs from these excellent bands I know? Or do I want to hear bands I haven't heard, some of which sound promising?" Choose one or the other. Or both. Hell, mix the two. It doesn't matter. In the end, you'll find only half of the album worthwhile.

-Ryan Kearney