By Kara Tucker
Picture this.
You're Brad Paisley. You have had a long, successful career with both critical and commercial acclaim. You recently turned 40, what better time to try to stretch your boundaries a bit?
After all, you're a skilled songwriter and guitarist, so why not attempt some new things, maybe deal with tougher topics.
You wore a T-shirt of one of your favorite bands, Alabama, and got called a racist on Twitter for it, because the shirt that depicted a Confederate battle flag.
You think "Am I a racist? Is that all it takes?"
Somewhere along the line, the term "post-racial" came out, a laughable term, definitely a premature one.
To this day, there exists racial distrust, not just in the South either, mind you. Granted, that part of the country has a portion of its citizenry that makes it an easy target, but there are racists as vile as any one else in the blue states and thoughtful, decent, intelligent human beings in the red.
Where to go if you're a Southern songwriter, though? Scratch that, a Southern white songwriter. Scratch that again, a Southern white male country songwriter.
How do you address pride in where you come from (Paisley's from West Virginia) while addressing that the part of that pride, if not yours specifically, comes from a dark part of this country's history.
That's where that flag imagery comes in. While it may have morphed in some people's minds to a version of regional pride, it is still very loaded imagery because it represents a pride at the expense of other people. Literally.
It was the symbol of those in the states who fought for the right to keep owning other people as slaves, as property. It continued to be used after the Civil War, through reconstruction into Jim Crow, into the defiance against civil rights for African-Americans in this country.
Try as they might, the apologists for it could never change the fact that most people see the Confederate imagery as an expression of white supremacist attitudes, of the United Confederate States.
Which brings us back to Paisley. He decided to tackle a post-racial America that's not post-racial at all. He's capable of nuance, even facing up to this impossible task. In reality, there's pretty much no way to tackle a topic with so many angles and centuries of history behind it in one song. A whole album? Maybe you get closer, but no way in one song.
Still, Paisley was more than capable of avoiding the trip that ensnares some songwriters, whose expression of Southern pride comes across as little more than unapologetic jingoistic buffoonery or bumper sticker level sloganeering.
He came up with a song with help from LL Cool J, who has managed career longevity in the hip hop field, no small feat for those of his generation even as his music career has taken more of a back seat to his acting in recent years.
The result of Paisley's endeavors with LL is "Accidental Racist", a song off his just-released album "Wheelhouse."
The moment the track hit the internet Monday, a rather substantial negative response quickly ensued. We've seen some quick negative feedback for others (as with the leak of Beyonce's egofest "Bow Down.") lately, but not at the level of reaction this track received.
Is the negativity deserved? The honest answer to that is that, yes, a fair amount of it is. The track ultimately falls apart as a well-intentioned failure.
Lets start with the music itself. The track feels like a Kid Rock 45 played at 33 speed at times. It fails to dig deep with a real hook in any real fashion. The whole thing comes off slick and rather lifeless, especially with the muffled "Sweet Home Alabama" snippet that kicks off the track. Not a good sign to remind folks of a far superior song.
That is a forgivable offense though, in comparison to what happens with the lyrics.
The sad part is that, even there, Paisley has occasional moments that hint at what could have been. At one point, he sings, "We're still picking up the pieces/Walking over eggshells/Fighting over yesterday/And caught between Southern pride and Southern blame."
Stating the situation, that's good. Paisley's character in the song goes on to talk about putting himself into the shoes of the black man working at Starbucks who took offense to his Skynyrd shirt with the flag logo.
Again, a willingness to see the issue through the other person's eyes. Considering the issue gets ignored altogether too often, this is promising?
Where does it go wrong? Hoo boy.
To start with, Paisley's getting a lot of blame because the track is his idea and it's on his album, but LL Cool J's contributions are highly problematic at best.Now, one could make the point that LL is not anyone's first choice to drop a socially conscious rhyme. He doesn't have the track record of Mos Def,Common, KRS-One, Chuck D and others in that department. But, he is skilled and savvy enough that he should have been up to the task, right? Sadly, no. No he wasn't.
The worst might be the jaw-dropping false equivalencies that he shouts out as the song plays out.
"If you forget my cold chains/I'll forget the iron chains.", he says. Because, you know, Mr. Smith's bling is just as scary as shackles used to make sure that people were kept as property.
Seriously, forget about the laziness of rhyming "chains" with "chains" and think about it. Did LL really mean to equate racists with people who hate racism? Because that's exactly what that lyric does.
That howler comes on the heels of "If you won't judge my do-rag, I won't judge your red flag" Translation: "If you don't complain about my fashion choice, I won't complain about you wearing a long-standing symbol of white supremacy." Again. Whiskey. Tango. Foxtrot.
It's enough to make one long for the mind-numbingly simplistic "Side by side on piano keyboard/Oh, Lord, why don't we" that Stevie Wonder and Paul McCartney gave us.
Not that Paisley escapes blameless on the lyrical front. He sings, "Our generation didn't start this nation/And we're still paying for the mistakes/That a bunch of folks made/Long before we came."
Somehow I doubt that Mr. Paisley, suddenly forgetting to check his privilege, is personally paying for the mistakes of his ancestors that much. Wait. Did he say "mistakes"?!?!?!?
Losing your car keys is a mistake. Using salt instead of sugar when making a cake from scratch is a mistake. Years of slavery and the years of racism, institutional and otherwise, that followed is a little more than a "mistake." Jim Crow deserves a little more than an "oops, our bad."
Granted, most of those who truly had to answer for such things are dead, but their deeds need greater heft from a word than "mistakes."
While the song sprang from real life, it still seems odd when Paisley acts unaware that the shirt he wears in the lyrical story (with Skynyrd subbing for Alabama) contains loaded imagery. ("What? Black people don't like the Confederate flag? Who knew?"). He's old enough to remember the fights that have gone on in our lifetimes to take down Confederate flags that flew in front of some state capitols.
Or maybe he's unaware of the irony of a West Virginian wearing Confederate imagery, but I digress.
With the sometimes awful, cringe-inducing turns this song takes, the biggest disappointment is that as well-intentioned, as open-minded as Paisley seems to be, he and LL try to wrap things up too neatly.
Even in 2013, almost 150 years after the Civil War ended, things aren't anywhere wrapped up or "post-racial" in this country. Even with all the progress, things are much trickier, thornier and open-ended than this song seems to suggest.
Yes, it would be nice if more folks would buy each other beers (or some other beverage), converse and start clearing the air, but that's going to take a lot more time, many more conversations and a heck of a lot more beverages.
The net result feels more like an excuse for absolution of white guilt than it was intended to. Hell, the first line of LL's rap is "Dear Mr. White Man,"
As the song runs through its home stretch, Paisley hints at the business unfinished, singing lines about trying to understand and wanting to make things right. But then LL Cool J comes back with lines like "Let bygones be bygones" and "The past is past, you feel me."
Actually, no, I'm not feeling you and neither are a lot of other people.
This song will go down as a punchline, a Chris Gaines-level career misfire. That's unfortunate, because the subject matter has many serious topics worthy of musical exploration. It just deserves better than the ham-fisted earnestness (at best) and clueless to its own offensiveness (at worst) on display here.
It's also a topic that shouldn't require "bravery" to take on. It shouldn't be seen as "radical" or "having cojones."
Brad Paisley does deserve credit for trying, but his own internal sense of quality control should have kicked in well before this saw the light of day. Hopefully more artists take on the challenge, including Paisley.
In the meantime, back to the drawing board.
And that's what's real and what's truth.
OF TWO MINDS -- Musings on music, sports and pop culture, even the world, from the minds of two women from New York by way of the city of Cleveland and small-town Nebraska, respectively. Deborah Sprague and Kara Tucker.
Tuesday, April 9, 2013
Monday, December 17, 2012
Nada Surf, Dec. 15, 2012, Bowery Ballroom, Manhattan
By Kara Sprague
2012, Nada Surf's 20th as a band, was a busy one.
They released their seventh album, "The Stars Are Indifferent To Astronomy" in January. The band toured the U.S., U.K. and the European Union in support of the album.
The band got a little time off after doing 25 shows in 35 days throughout Europe, it got a few weeks off. Back on the road, it wrapped up the year and its tour with an eight city, ten day swing through the Midwest and East Coast.
A pair of sold-out shows at the Bowery wrapped up the "Stars" tour this past weekend. It might have been a long, tiring year on the road, but the band showed it had plenty of energy to wrap up the tour with aplomb.
I'd seen Nada Surf twice before in Nebraska, in 2003 in support of "Let Go" and 2008 in support of "Lucky."
Both times, the band was in the same three-piece formation it had been in since prior to recording its 1996 full-length debut "High/Low": singer/guitarist Matthew Caws, bassist Daniel Lorca and drummer Ira Elliott.
In the period since "Lucky" band had added a not-so-secret weapon to its arsenal in Doug Gillard.
Gillard's lent his talents to a number of bands over the years, most notably Guided by Voices.
Coming on board to play guitar on "Stars", Gillard joined the band for the subsequent tour,
As good as those three-piece shows were, Gillard is a clear case of addition by addition. His stinging, strong clean and mean leads and solos, gave the songs additional punch and his recognizable tone.
There was plenty of opportunity for the additional punch, as the band played for a long time, 26 songs in all onstage.
"High/Low" was a blessing with a catch. It did provide the band with a radio/MTV hit in "Popular", but it also meant label pressure for a follow-up hit. When the band's label didn't like the second album, "Proximity Effect", the result was the band being stuck in purgatory before finally being able to release the album four years after the debut.
While the delay might have cost the band some external momentum, it didn't show up in the finished product.
In reality, the debut album had its definite high points, but was also an uneven affair.
Over the ensuing years, the band honed its chemistry and songcraft. Instead of being a fairly standard, if smarter, band of alt-rockers the debut might have suggested, they turned into one of the best power pop bands around. They kept enough punch to avoid becoming overly twee or precious and enough modernity to avoid sounding like slavish revivalists.
The songs and the chops were on display throughout the evening, starting with the two songs that kick off "Stars" -- "Clear Eye and Clouded Mind" and "Waiting For Something."
Lorca, with his bass slung low, and the rock-solid Elliott, a key weapon on drums, held down the rhythm.
The main 21-song portion of the set was made up of mostly of songs from the band's last four non-cover records,. The band waited until midway through the set to play three songs from "Proximity Effect" in a row "Hyperspace" (a good set and mix closer, actually), "Amateur" and "80 Windows."
That was definitely well-received by the supportive hometown crowd, but pretty much every song was. It wasn't too difficult to look around and see fans singing or mouthing along to the words. It was also a diverse fan base with fans young enough to be kids (or at least nieces and nephews) of the band (and this reviewer) and fans more of, well, my age.
Hooks and melody hold no age and that's what continued to shine throughout the night -- from "Concrete Bed" and "Whose Authority" early in the evening to "Inside of Love", a "Let Go" classic and "Teenage Dreams" off "Stars."
The one album not represented though the set was "High/Low", which changed with the encore.
A surging "Deeper Well" off that album kicked it off. "Popular" followed, coming off a bit too rushed, sacrificing the universal deadpan humor of the verses for a faster, just shy of auctioneer, delivery.
Things got better quickly with the tempo dialed back for "See These Bones" and "Always Love."
The encore wrapped up with an obvious end-of-the-night choice -- "Blankest Year" a song about when things get bad enough that one just says "Fuck it. I'm gonna have a party"...with the added benefit of providing the audience the opportunity to sing "Fuck iiiiiittt" at the appropriate spots.
Stretching out the catchy little number, the band was joined onstage by some dancing audience members of varying age and dancing skills.
It was the clear end of the night, one that began with Jennifer O'Connor's pleasant and entertaining opening set of indie singer-songwriter pop and folk. One that ended with 26 songs of often terrific power pop/rock that shows the band retaining freshness two days in.
It was the clear end of the night...except it wasn't.
Some 10 minutes or so after the house lights had been turned on and people started clearing out of the Bowery, Deb and I made our way to the merch table. I made a purchase there and soon heard music starting behind me.
I looked up and there was Caws, with an acoustic guitar, singing to the remaining fans as he stood on the stairs between the exit and the merch table.
His performances of "Blizzard of 77" and "The Future" were a nice little bonus, the cherry on top of a tasty musical sundae.
All in all, a winning sendoff to 2012 for a winning band.
2012, Nada Surf's 20th as a band, was a busy one.
They released their seventh album, "The Stars Are Indifferent To Astronomy" in January. The band toured the U.S., U.K. and the European Union in support of the album.
The band got a little time off after doing 25 shows in 35 days throughout Europe, it got a few weeks off. Back on the road, it wrapped up the year and its tour with an eight city, ten day swing through the Midwest and East Coast.
A pair of sold-out shows at the Bowery wrapped up the "Stars" tour this past weekend. It might have been a long, tiring year on the road, but the band showed it had plenty of energy to wrap up the tour with aplomb.
I'd seen Nada Surf twice before in Nebraska, in 2003 in support of "Let Go" and 2008 in support of "Lucky."
Both times, the band was in the same three-piece formation it had been in since prior to recording its 1996 full-length debut "High/Low": singer/guitarist Matthew Caws, bassist Daniel Lorca and drummer Ira Elliott.
In the period since "Lucky" band had added a not-so-secret weapon to its arsenal in Doug Gillard.
Gillard's lent his talents to a number of bands over the years, most notably Guided by Voices.
Coming on board to play guitar on "Stars", Gillard joined the band for the subsequent tour,
As good as those three-piece shows were, Gillard is a clear case of addition by addition. His stinging, strong clean and mean leads and solos, gave the songs additional punch and his recognizable tone.
There was plenty of opportunity for the additional punch, as the band played for a long time, 26 songs in all onstage.
"High/Low" was a blessing with a catch. It did provide the band with a radio/MTV hit in "Popular", but it also meant label pressure for a follow-up hit. When the band's label didn't like the second album, "Proximity Effect", the result was the band being stuck in purgatory before finally being able to release the album four years after the debut.
While the delay might have cost the band some external momentum, it didn't show up in the finished product.
In reality, the debut album had its definite high points, but was also an uneven affair.
Over the ensuing years, the band honed its chemistry and songcraft. Instead of being a fairly standard, if smarter, band of alt-rockers the debut might have suggested, they turned into one of the best power pop bands around. They kept enough punch to avoid becoming overly twee or precious and enough modernity to avoid sounding like slavish revivalists.
The songs and the chops were on display throughout the evening, starting with the two songs that kick off "Stars" -- "Clear Eye and Clouded Mind" and "Waiting For Something."
Lorca, with his bass slung low, and the rock-solid Elliott, a key weapon on drums, held down the rhythm.
The main 21-song portion of the set was made up of mostly of songs from the band's last four non-cover records,. The band waited until midway through the set to play three songs from "Proximity Effect" in a row "Hyperspace" (a good set and mix closer, actually), "Amateur" and "80 Windows."
That was definitely well-received by the supportive hometown crowd, but pretty much every song was. It wasn't too difficult to look around and see fans singing or mouthing along to the words. It was also a diverse fan base with fans young enough to be kids (or at least nieces and nephews) of the band (and this reviewer) and fans more of, well, my age.
Hooks and melody hold no age and that's what continued to shine throughout the night -- from "Concrete Bed" and "Whose Authority" early in the evening to "Inside of Love", a "Let Go" classic and "Teenage Dreams" off "Stars."
The one album not represented though the set was "High/Low", which changed with the encore.
A surging "Deeper Well" off that album kicked it off. "Popular" followed, coming off a bit too rushed, sacrificing the universal deadpan humor of the verses for a faster, just shy of auctioneer, delivery.
Things got better quickly with the tempo dialed back for "See These Bones" and "Always Love."
The encore wrapped up with an obvious end-of-the-night choice -- "Blankest Year" a song about when things get bad enough that one just says "Fuck it. I'm gonna have a party"...with the added benefit of providing the audience the opportunity to sing "Fuck iiiiiittt" at the appropriate spots.
Stretching out the catchy little number, the band was joined onstage by some dancing audience members of varying age and dancing skills.
It was the clear end of the night, one that began with Jennifer O'Connor's pleasant and entertaining opening set of indie singer-songwriter pop and folk. One that ended with 26 songs of often terrific power pop/rock that shows the band retaining freshness two days in.
It was the clear end of the night...except it wasn't.
Some 10 minutes or so after the house lights had been turned on and people started clearing out of the Bowery, Deb and I made our way to the merch table. I made a purchase there and soon heard music starting behind me.
I looked up and there was Caws, with an acoustic guitar, singing to the remaining fans as he stood on the stairs between the exit and the merch table.
His performances of "Blizzard of 77" and "The Future" were a nice little bonus, the cherry on top of a tasty musical sundae.
All in all, a winning sendoff to 2012 for a winning band.
Jason Isbell & The 400 Unit, Bowery Ballroom, Dec. 7, 2012
By Kara Sprague
Anyone who follow's musician Jason Isbell's Twitter page knows the man has a sense of humor.
That sense of humor extended to when it came time to name his tour in support of his newest album, "Live From Alabama" is his third wiith the 400 Unit after two studio releases,
It goes back to a song called "Outfit", a song filled with love and humor inspired by a conversation with his father. The song was one of the standouts Isbell wrote during his stint in the Drive-By Truckers. It remains a perennial in his sets as he goes further into his post-Truckers career.
If you go to an Isbell show, you're going to hear "Outfit" much more often than not.
Isbell, on his website, told the story of one of those shows.
“One particular night,” he explains, “there was one guy in the crowd, he was three quarters of the way back. I could hear him yelling, ‘Play “Outfit!”’ He eventually wiggled his way up right in front of me … he got really frustrated and he wouldn’t even wait until a song was over, every time I took a breath he would yell right in my face, ‘Play “Outfit!”’ I was about to play something else, and I look down and he’s about to cry. He said, ‘Man, stop fuckin’ around and play “Outfit!”’ We figured we’d call this tour the Stop Fucking Around and Play ‘Outfit’ Tour for that guy.”
That song, part of a good cross section of Isbell's career, made the setlist for the 400 Unit's show at the Bowery.
Isbell's one of the finest Southern rock musicians out there today, not in what some people expect from the term, which might conjure up visions of compilation albums with Confederate flag imagery and busty women in cowboy hats on the cover.
Rather, Isbell works well as a literate storyteller, skillfully creating characters and drawing details into his songs,
As evidenced by the Bowery show, Isbell and the 400 Unit are capable of delivering a tour of the South musically. Bases were covered, from Muscle Shoals and Memphis soul to Nashville country to New Orleans funk to muscular folk straight ahead juke joint rock and roll.
The tour was delivered through a set of 18 songs -- ten off Isbell's albums, five of his DBT contributions and a trio of covers.
The expanded palette served Isbell well, as it has since he parted ways with the Truckers.
Opening with the solid 1-2 punch of "Tour of Duty", the last song off Isbell's latest studio release ("Here We Rest") and DBT standard "Decoration Day", the band delivered a steady set that never dipped while offering its share of high points.
One was "Dress Blues", a song Isbell wrote for his pre-400 Unit solo debut "Sirens of the Ditch."
The song was dedicated to the man it was written for, Matthew Conley, a Marine corporal from Isbell's hometown who died in Iraq, just two days before he was scheduled to be shipped home and a week before his 22nd birthday.
The melancholy song gains its power by downplaying any political overtones for a sense of loss for someone taken too soon from a community small enough to feel that loss deeply.
Isbell's skills in reflective moments, as with "Dress Blues" and the first encore song, DBT's "Danko/Manuel" made his songs a nice change of pace from the often grittier material on those Truckers' records. They played wall off the Bowery set's rockers.
"Try", off "Sirens" surged with power. The anthemic DBT track "Never Gonna Change" showed Isbell and Co, capable of turning up the volume with aplomb.
Response to newer material was encouraging. Audience members responded pretty much as enthusiastically to songs like "Alabama Pines" and "Codeine" off "Here We Rest" as they did to classic Truckers material.
The covers showed off the versatility -- the southern soul of Candi Staton's "Heart on a String", an energetic take on the Meters' "Hey Pocky A-Way" (with drummer Chad Gamble on vocals) that would have brought a smile to Lowell George's face and a capable run through Neil Young's "Like a Hurricane" that closed the night.
And yes, they did play "Outfit."
Isbell told the story of the tour name, embellishing it with the occasional quip, While the story meant that some guy in the crowd was guaranteed to yell "Play Outfit!" between songs the rest of the night, the song was a highly welcome, if obvious, part of the set.
Communist Daughter, a Minnesota-based band, opened the show with a set combining agreeable folk and moments of New Pornographers-like poppiness. Even some of the band's moments clicked better than others, it served as a perfectly capable warm-up for the headliner.
As for Isbell, his songs deserve get heard by a wider audience, but the crowd that filled up most of the Bowery had to leave pretty satisfied.
Anyone who follow's musician Jason Isbell's Twitter page knows the man has a sense of humor.
That sense of humor extended to when it came time to name his tour in support of his newest album, "Live From Alabama" is his third wiith the 400 Unit after two studio releases,
It goes back to a song called "Outfit", a song filled with love and humor inspired by a conversation with his father. The song was one of the standouts Isbell wrote during his stint in the Drive-By Truckers. It remains a perennial in his sets as he goes further into his post-Truckers career.
If you go to an Isbell show, you're going to hear "Outfit" much more often than not.
Isbell, on his website, told the story of one of those shows.
“One particular night,” he explains, “there was one guy in the crowd, he was three quarters of the way back. I could hear him yelling, ‘Play “Outfit!”’ He eventually wiggled his way up right in front of me … he got really frustrated and he wouldn’t even wait until a song was over, every time I took a breath he would yell right in my face, ‘Play “Outfit!”’ I was about to play something else, and I look down and he’s about to cry. He said, ‘Man, stop fuckin’ around and play “Outfit!”’ We figured we’d call this tour the Stop Fucking Around and Play ‘Outfit’ Tour for that guy.”
That song, part of a good cross section of Isbell's career, made the setlist for the 400 Unit's show at the Bowery.
Isbell's one of the finest Southern rock musicians out there today, not in what some people expect from the term, which might conjure up visions of compilation albums with Confederate flag imagery and busty women in cowboy hats on the cover.
Rather, Isbell works well as a literate storyteller, skillfully creating characters and drawing details into his songs,
As evidenced by the Bowery show, Isbell and the 400 Unit are capable of delivering a tour of the South musically. Bases were covered, from Muscle Shoals and Memphis soul to Nashville country to New Orleans funk to muscular folk straight ahead juke joint rock and roll.
The tour was delivered through a set of 18 songs -- ten off Isbell's albums, five of his DBT contributions and a trio of covers.
The expanded palette served Isbell well, as it has since he parted ways with the Truckers.
Opening with the solid 1-2 punch of "Tour of Duty", the last song off Isbell's latest studio release ("Here We Rest") and DBT standard "Decoration Day", the band delivered a steady set that never dipped while offering its share of high points.
One was "Dress Blues", a song Isbell wrote for his pre-400 Unit solo debut "Sirens of the Ditch."
The song was dedicated to the man it was written for, Matthew Conley, a Marine corporal from Isbell's hometown who died in Iraq, just two days before he was scheduled to be shipped home and a week before his 22nd birthday.
The melancholy song gains its power by downplaying any political overtones for a sense of loss for someone taken too soon from a community small enough to feel that loss deeply.
Isbell's skills in reflective moments, as with "Dress Blues" and the first encore song, DBT's "Danko/Manuel" made his songs a nice change of pace from the often grittier material on those Truckers' records. They played wall off the Bowery set's rockers.
"Try", off "Sirens" surged with power. The anthemic DBT track "Never Gonna Change" showed Isbell and Co, capable of turning up the volume with aplomb.
Response to newer material was encouraging. Audience members responded pretty much as enthusiastically to songs like "Alabama Pines" and "Codeine" off "Here We Rest" as they did to classic Truckers material.
The covers showed off the versatility -- the southern soul of Candi Staton's "Heart on a String", an energetic take on the Meters' "Hey Pocky A-Way" (with drummer Chad Gamble on vocals) that would have brought a smile to Lowell George's face and a capable run through Neil Young's "Like a Hurricane" that closed the night.
And yes, they did play "Outfit."
Isbell told the story of the tour name, embellishing it with the occasional quip, While the story meant that some guy in the crowd was guaranteed to yell "Play Outfit!" between songs the rest of the night, the song was a highly welcome, if obvious, part of the set.
Communist Daughter, a Minnesota-based band, opened the show with a set combining agreeable folk and moments of New Pornographers-like poppiness. Even some of the band's moments clicked better than others, it served as a perfectly capable warm-up for the headliner.
As for Isbell, his songs deserve get heard by a wider audience, but the crowd that filled up most of the Bowery had to leave pretty satisfied.
Monday, December 3, 2012
Dinosaur Jr at Terminal 5, Manhattan, Dec. 1 2012
By Kara Sprague
Most of alternative rock radio long ago redefined itself as "active rock" with playlists full of semi-indistinguishable hard rock bands with names like Shiny Mud and Stonestorm (or something like that).
With that in mind, it would be understandable that there would be a market for nostalgia for the alt-rock of yesteryear on the concert trail.
That showed itself more in 2012. The Afghan Whigs reunited for a well-received tour, for one.
But outside of a couple of digitally-released covers (including a well-chosen, well-performed version of Frank Ocean's "Lovecrimes"), the band was touring behind nothing new. As lean, mean and tight as the 'Whigs were after over a decade apart, at this point there's only a vague open-ended hope of new material.
Less nostalgic, though not a reunion, were a few of Bob Mould's shows performed this past summer. Mould's too-short-lived band Sugar didn't get back together, but Mould celebrated the 20th anniversary of that band's seminal "Copper Blue" album by performing that album in its entirety at some shows.
Mould is no nostalgia act at this point, as his 2012 album "Silver Age" was loud, catchy, crunchy rock in the Sugar vein. It's easily his best album in years, standing alongside "Copper Blue" as his best post-Husker Du work.
That brings us to Dinosaur Jr., a band that combined elements of indie, stoner rock, classic rock, punk and more into its recorded output.
The band got the reunion part out of the way years ago, after the '90s departures of of bassist Lou Barlow (who went on to form another beloved indie band, Sebadoh) and drummer Murph.
The original trio that made up the band set aside any lingering acrimony for a series of well-received albums, 2007's "Beyond", 2009's "Farm" and 2012's "I Bet on Sky"
Dinosaur Jr. is currently touring behind the new album, but found time for a special look back with the help of a number of musical guest stars.
The result was nearly two-and-a-half hours that provided testimony to how vital the band still is and how fresh their classic work remains. And all the while, the guest stars added, not distracted from the proceedings while showing off different elements that informed the band's work.
The occasion for the special show at Terminal 5 was a celebration of the band's "You're Living All Over Me" album, the band's first album to show them as a force and an influence.
The concert was split into two halves -- the first was a performance of that album in order and nearly in its entirety. The second half was a series of other songs from the band's career along with some covers as the special guests appeared more frequently.
The one constant in the band's history is laconic guitar hero/anti-hero J Mascis, whose combination of the air of slackerish indifference combined with loud, listen-to-me guitar wankery defined a lot of the band's sound and sensibility. Not to mention that he was and remains the key songwriter. Even with Barlow much more established as a writer, Mascis carries the bulk of the writing credits post-reunion.
Mascis was his usual self, tossing out minimal stage banter, but plenty of shredworthy solos, fuzzy noise and general heroics.
Just two guest stars appeared in the album performance part of the set. Suzanne Thorpe, known for her work with Mercury Rev, played flute on the non-"Living" track "Thumb" and ex-Sonic Youth member Lee Ranaldo who took lead vocals on the second song of the night, "Little Fury Things."
The original album (and it's follow-up "Bug", for that matter) were often abrasive, edgy affairs whose production made them even edgier.
In a live setting, the songs from the album (minus only its cover of the Cure's "Just Like Heaven", sadly) gained depth. The band members, now all in their mid-to-late 40s, have enough years behind them to make up in power for the youthful edginess no longer there.
Barlow periodically thanked the packed crowd for "coming to our special show,"
At one point, Mascis said, "All right. Thanks a lot. That was side one."
Almost deadpan acknowledgements of the crowd aside, the band showed off a solid chemistry and its appreciation could be seen in the smiles that popped up, particularly on Barlow's and Murph's faces.
Barlow closed off the "Living" portion alone with "Poledo," which he not inaccurately described as the "awkward ending to amazing album" (though more because the song sounded like a dry run for some of the terrain he'd explore in Sebadoh).
With the Barlow-and-ukulele number out of the way, it was time to start bringing out the guest stars in earnest.
Frank Black of Dino's Boston-based compatriots (and masters of the earlier-in-the decade nostalgic cash grab faux-reunion tour) Pixies came out first.
He joined the band for a "Almost Fare", one of the songs off the new album before tearing into a ripping version of the Pixies "Tame" (it's not as if his old band sucked on that cash-grab tour, after all).
Opening act Kurt Vile was the next guest, giving Mascis a second guitarist to play off of in a wanktastic guitar showcase with Al Cisneros of Speed on bass and Kyle Spence of Harvey Milk sitting in on drums.
Barlow and Murph returned for "Don't Pretend You Didn't Know" and "Watch the Corner" before it was time for the next of the next big name alt-rock heroes to come on stage.
Johnny Marr, whose excellent guitar work helped make the Smiths the seminal band they were and has worked with all sorts of people in the 20-plus years since, came on stage, as did Kevin Drew of that Canadian musical conglomerate Broken Social Scene.
Drew took lead vocals on "The Wagon" (from 1991's "Green Mind") and a cover of the Smiths' "The Boy With The Thorn In His Side" that translated well enough, even if it was a departure from the jangling swooniness of the original.
The group followed by going deeper into its history to a cover of "Training Ground", a song from Deep Wound, the hardcore band Barlow and Mascis were in as teenager.
Guest stars were overlapping by this point, as Dale Crover of the Melvins handled the drums on the Smiths and Deep Wound covers, thus marking the only time those three bands have been in the same sentence.
One of the striking things about the evening was the fact that things were mostly free of glitches, outside of one instance where Barlow had to be brought back from offstage because he didn't realize he was singing lead vocal on a song. All involved generally deftly handled the changing faces.
The next contemporary to arrive was Don Fleming, who worked a bit with the band in its immediate post-Barlow days. Fleming delivered more hardcore, this time with lead vocals on a cover of DC hardcore band Iron Cross' "Crucified."
Following up two hardcore songs was the most intense guest star of the evening.
One of Kim Gordon's real strengths in Sonic Youth was her ability to pull of quiet cool and raging intensity, depending on the song,
Saturday's appearance from Gordon was all the latter, as she brought to life to "Don't." A song that seemed more of a listener endurance test in its recorded incarnation on "Bug" was much better in Gordon's hands.
With no concessions to age, Gordon ripped through the song with vocal cord-shredding fervor.
Even if the song did drag on a bit past its natural end point, it was one of the evening's highlights and a perfect way to end the main set.
It wasn't an end to the evening, however, as a rather interesting lineup took the stage. Mascis took his normal spot with guitar, but a whole bevy of new faces joined him. There was Tommy Stinson of the classic Replacements and the not-so-classic Axl Rose-hired backing band calls Guns N Roses these days on bass. On drums? Fred Armisen, known more for these as a performer on "Saturday Night Live" and "Portlandia" but who started out as a punk drummer. On vocals was rock veteran John Petkovic of Cobra Verde and the more recent Sweet Apples (a project with Mascis and others).
This was no alt-rock Asia, as the foursome delivered an energetic version of the Stooges' "TV Eye" with Petkovic bounding about the stage as usual.
With all of the guest star highlights, this was still a Dinosaur Jr. show after all and the original trio finished the night together with two classics from years gone by.
First, "Start Choppin", the "Where You Been" track that was one of the band's catchiest and one of the closest things to a hit they had. It retained its catchy punch.
To wrap things up, the band wisely went with "Freak Scene," arguably the band's high point on record.
The song so deftly captured either the messiness of a relationship between two people or within a music scene..or maybe both.
A line in the last verse goes, "Just don't let me fuck up will you?/Cause when I need a friend it's still you."
On a rare night with so much and so varied talent onstage, the band and its guests produced music that was never less than good and was quite stellar more often than not.
Rest assured, Dinosaur Jr. didn't fuck up and left the house with 3,300 friends who'd been highly entertained and filed out of Terminal 5 grateful for the opportunity to witness a historic night where the living history was very much alive.
Most of alternative rock radio long ago redefined itself as "active rock" with playlists full of semi-indistinguishable hard rock bands with names like Shiny Mud and Stonestorm (or something like that).
With that in mind, it would be understandable that there would be a market for nostalgia for the alt-rock of yesteryear on the concert trail.
That showed itself more in 2012. The Afghan Whigs reunited for a well-received tour, for one.
But outside of a couple of digitally-released covers (including a well-chosen, well-performed version of Frank Ocean's "Lovecrimes"), the band was touring behind nothing new. As lean, mean and tight as the 'Whigs were after over a decade apart, at this point there's only a vague open-ended hope of new material.
Less nostalgic, though not a reunion, were a few of Bob Mould's shows performed this past summer. Mould's too-short-lived band Sugar didn't get back together, but Mould celebrated the 20th anniversary of that band's seminal "Copper Blue" album by performing that album in its entirety at some shows.
Mould is no nostalgia act at this point, as his 2012 album "Silver Age" was loud, catchy, crunchy rock in the Sugar vein. It's easily his best album in years, standing alongside "Copper Blue" as his best post-Husker Du work.
That brings us to Dinosaur Jr., a band that combined elements of indie, stoner rock, classic rock, punk and more into its recorded output.
The band got the reunion part out of the way years ago, after the '90s departures of of bassist Lou Barlow (who went on to form another beloved indie band, Sebadoh) and drummer Murph.
The original trio that made up the band set aside any lingering acrimony for a series of well-received albums, 2007's "Beyond", 2009's "Farm" and 2012's "I Bet on Sky"
Dinosaur Jr. is currently touring behind the new album, but found time for a special look back with the help of a number of musical guest stars.
The result was nearly two-and-a-half hours that provided testimony to how vital the band still is and how fresh their classic work remains. And all the while, the guest stars added, not distracted from the proceedings while showing off different elements that informed the band's work.
The occasion for the special show at Terminal 5 was a celebration of the band's "You're Living All Over Me" album, the band's first album to show them as a force and an influence.
The concert was split into two halves -- the first was a performance of that album in order and nearly in its entirety. The second half was a series of other songs from the band's career along with some covers as the special guests appeared more frequently.
The one constant in the band's history is laconic guitar hero/anti-hero J Mascis, whose combination of the air of slackerish indifference combined with loud, listen-to-me guitar wankery defined a lot of the band's sound and sensibility. Not to mention that he was and remains the key songwriter. Even with Barlow much more established as a writer, Mascis carries the bulk of the writing credits post-reunion.
Mascis was his usual self, tossing out minimal stage banter, but plenty of shredworthy solos, fuzzy noise and general heroics.
Just two guest stars appeared in the album performance part of the set. Suzanne Thorpe, known for her work with Mercury Rev, played flute on the non-"Living" track "Thumb" and ex-Sonic Youth member Lee Ranaldo who took lead vocals on the second song of the night, "Little Fury Things."
The original album (and it's follow-up "Bug", for that matter) were often abrasive, edgy affairs whose production made them even edgier.
In a live setting, the songs from the album (minus only its cover of the Cure's "Just Like Heaven", sadly) gained depth. The band members, now all in their mid-to-late 40s, have enough years behind them to make up in power for the youthful edginess no longer there.
Barlow periodically thanked the packed crowd for "coming to our special show,"
At one point, Mascis said, "All right. Thanks a lot. That was side one."
Almost deadpan acknowledgements of the crowd aside, the band showed off a solid chemistry and its appreciation could be seen in the smiles that popped up, particularly on Barlow's and Murph's faces.
Barlow closed off the "Living" portion alone with "Poledo," which he not inaccurately described as the "awkward ending to amazing album" (though more because the song sounded like a dry run for some of the terrain he'd explore in Sebadoh).
With the Barlow-and-ukulele number out of the way, it was time to start bringing out the guest stars in earnest.
Frank Black of Dino's Boston-based compatriots (and masters of the earlier-in-the decade nostalgic cash grab faux-reunion tour) Pixies came out first.
He joined the band for a "Almost Fare", one of the songs off the new album before tearing into a ripping version of the Pixies "Tame" (it's not as if his old band sucked on that cash-grab tour, after all).
Opening act Kurt Vile was the next guest, giving Mascis a second guitarist to play off of in a wanktastic guitar showcase with Al Cisneros of Speed on bass and Kyle Spence of Harvey Milk sitting in on drums.
Barlow and Murph returned for "Don't Pretend You Didn't Know" and "Watch the Corner" before it was time for the next of the next big name alt-rock heroes to come on stage.
Johnny Marr, whose excellent guitar work helped make the Smiths the seminal band they were and has worked with all sorts of people in the 20-plus years since, came on stage, as did Kevin Drew of that Canadian musical conglomerate Broken Social Scene.
Drew took lead vocals on "The Wagon" (from 1991's "Green Mind") and a cover of the Smiths' "The Boy With The Thorn In His Side" that translated well enough, even if it was a departure from the jangling swooniness of the original.
The group followed by going deeper into its history to a cover of "Training Ground", a song from Deep Wound, the hardcore band Barlow and Mascis were in as teenager.
Guest stars were overlapping by this point, as Dale Crover of the Melvins handled the drums on the Smiths and Deep Wound covers, thus marking the only time those three bands have been in the same sentence.
One of the striking things about the evening was the fact that things were mostly free of glitches, outside of one instance where Barlow had to be brought back from offstage because he didn't realize he was singing lead vocal on a song. All involved generally deftly handled the changing faces.
The next contemporary to arrive was Don Fleming, who worked a bit with the band in its immediate post-Barlow days. Fleming delivered more hardcore, this time with lead vocals on a cover of DC hardcore band Iron Cross' "Crucified."
Following up two hardcore songs was the most intense guest star of the evening.
One of Kim Gordon's real strengths in Sonic Youth was her ability to pull of quiet cool and raging intensity, depending on the song,
Saturday's appearance from Gordon was all the latter, as she brought to life to "Don't." A song that seemed more of a listener endurance test in its recorded incarnation on "Bug" was much better in Gordon's hands.
With no concessions to age, Gordon ripped through the song with vocal cord-shredding fervor.
Even if the song did drag on a bit past its natural end point, it was one of the evening's highlights and a perfect way to end the main set.
It wasn't an end to the evening, however, as a rather interesting lineup took the stage. Mascis took his normal spot with guitar, but a whole bevy of new faces joined him. There was Tommy Stinson of the classic Replacements and the not-so-classic Axl Rose-hired backing band calls Guns N Roses these days on bass. On drums? Fred Armisen, known more for these as a performer on "Saturday Night Live" and "Portlandia" but who started out as a punk drummer. On vocals was rock veteran John Petkovic of Cobra Verde and the more recent Sweet Apples (a project with Mascis and others).
This was no alt-rock Asia, as the foursome delivered an energetic version of the Stooges' "TV Eye" with Petkovic bounding about the stage as usual.
With all of the guest star highlights, this was still a Dinosaur Jr. show after all and the original trio finished the night together with two classics from years gone by.
First, "Start Choppin", the "Where You Been" track that was one of the band's catchiest and one of the closest things to a hit they had. It retained its catchy punch.
To wrap things up, the band wisely went with "Freak Scene," arguably the band's high point on record.
The song so deftly captured either the messiness of a relationship between two people or within a music scene..or maybe both.
A line in the last verse goes, "Just don't let me fuck up will you?/Cause when I need a friend it's still you."
On a rare night with so much and so varied talent onstage, the band and its guests produced music that was never less than good and was quite stellar more often than not.
Rest assured, Dinosaur Jr. didn't fuck up and left the house with 3,300 friends who'd been highly entertained and filed out of Terminal 5 grateful for the opportunity to witness a historic night where the living history was very much alive.
Sunday, December 2, 2012
X With Reverend Horton Heat -- Irving Plaza, Manhattan, Nov. 30, 2012
Due to circumstances beyond my control, I was unable to see the show with THE seminal LA punk band along with the road-tested veterans Rev. Horton Heat and Co.
In lieu of that, enjoy Rock 'Em Sock Em Robots!
In lieu of that, enjoy Rock 'Em Sock Em Robots!
Saturday, October 20, 2012
Local H -- Bell House, Brooklyn, Oct. 18, 2012
By Kara Sprague
Some 20 years or go ago, one could be living in almost any large or even medium-to-small sized market and have a radio station playing some form of alternative music.
It emerged from what was called "College radio" in the '80s and produced its share of one-hit wonders. These are the acts who showed up on various compilations years later, the kind who'll be on the inevitable "Time-Life '90s collection" before long
Some of those acts fell off the radar and called it a day -- Belly, Semisonic, Spacehog, etc.
Some artists surfaced in more decidedly non-alternative settings. Letters to Cleo's Kay Hanley worked with Miley Cyrus. Semisonic's Dan Wilson picked up a Grammy for co-writing Adele's omnipresent "Someone Like You" and is now working with Engelbert Humperdinck (I am NOT making up the latter, either)..
But under the radar, some bands have not only kept doing, but have done their best material long after achieving "Buzz Bin" status. Nada Surf's moved past the uber-Weezerish hit "Popular" to produce years worth of good-to-great-to uniformly excellent mature power pop.
Then there's Local H. The Illinois-based rockers hit in 1996 with "Bound for the Floor", the track your less-knowledgeable friends probably refer to as "that Copacetic song." They were poised to build off the success of that track and the "As Good as Dead" album that spawned it with the excellent follow-up "Pack Up the Cats."
Unfortunately, that was the exact moment the band plunged down the rabbit hole of Major Label Hell, as the album got lost in the shuffle as their label was swallowed up by another.
After that, Local H disappeared from Major Label Land (a place more populated by metrosexual male singers and overly sexualized female singers of possibly legal age and autotuned bastardizations of hip-hop these days), it has soldiered on with a particularly strong run of music, especially beginning with 2003's "No Fun" EP.
The latest is the just-released "Hallelujah, I'm a Bum", another fine example of frontman Scott Lucas' abilty to craft a record around a common theme without concept-album filler. In this case, "Hallelujah" is an intelligent, pointed album on the state of politics in America circa 2012.
Thursday night's show was a triple bill that was more or less a double bill. Lucas, as he has on some other shows on the current tour, opened up sans drummer Brian St. Clair. Just Lucas, an acoustic guitar and a mixed set of tunes -- a cover of the Misfits' "Last Caress" (in the same manner as it appeared on one of the band's EPs, four songs from Lucas' rootsier Married Men and a couple Local H songs.
Even though the Bell House was, to put it mildly, filled less-than-capacity at this point, Lucas performed energetically, string breakage be damned. He was in fine voice and proved that he can do just as well without the heavy rock. Although he does very well in that setting. More on that later.
Next up was The Life and Times, the band that's been around off-and-on longer than singer/guitarist Allen Epley's previous band, the vastly underrated Shiner.
Epley felt the need to remark about the smattering of applause the band was getting a couple songs into the set. "Wow, hope you guys make more noise for Local H when they come on," he complained.
Perhaps he should have spent more time making sure the set began better, as the band opened with a rather meh "jam" in which one spends time waiting for the proper song to kick on and take off, only it never, ever does.
This is not to say Life and Times were bad. Far from it. The band is a tight unit and its performance picked up steam as it went on, even if it never quite won over the audience it had a chance to initially.
Plus, with Epley's voice often being a ringer for Ken Andrews and the band's musical flavoring offering more than a bit of Andrews' classic '90s band, Failure, it's not like it's not in one of my wheelhouses.
It certainly does this type of music better than, say, Andrews himself did with the band Year of the Rabbit. With Andrews more in the background side of the music industry these days, someone has to carry the torch.
But then, if there's a band that can still carry the torch for itself these days, it's Local H.
It's 2005 live album was sardonically titled "Local H Comes Alive." A more accurate, though less sardonic title might well be "Now That's a Rock and Roll Show, Goddammit!", because the band still brings the goods.
The goods delivery even takes place on a night in a club in Brooklyn with around 100 or so people, maybe up to half of the Bell House's Capacity.
While the crowd might have been small, it was full of people who clearly wanted to be there. In five boroughs with plenty of entertainment options -- musical and otherwise -- it was clear that the fans were ready to be entertained and that they were fans. Voices could be heard singing along not just with the familiar '90s favorites, but with the songs off "Hallelujah", released a month earlier.
The band's 21-song set touched on pretty much all the bases.While a few of the missing-in-setlist "No Fun" EPs tracks are among my all-time favorites from the band, with an available songlist as strong as Local H's, some good ones are bound not to be played on a given night.
It featured a healthy dose of the new record, a good thing when that record's as strong as "Hallelujah", arguably its best post-major release.
While the 40-something Lucas can still bounce around the stage like someone half his age, it doesn't hurt that he still has Brian St. Clair (Dave Grohl without the name recognition) more than capably manning the drum kit.
St. Clair supplied a heavy, dexterous attack that was heavy without being overly hammy.
The band ripped through three songs from the new album, "Waves", "Cold Manor" and "Here Come Old Laptop" before getting the obligatory, but not perfunctory rip through "Bound for the Floor" out of the way.
With the hit out of the way, it was time to mix up the setlist the rest of the night, starting with a stomping version of "They Saved Reagan's Brain", a catchy stomper that's one of the highlights on "Hallelujah."
It made a nice 1-2 punch with a cracking run through "The One With 'Kid', arguably the best song off the 'breakup' album "12 Angry Months,"
Clearly, the newer material (including "Feed a Fever", a song Christopher Walken's record producer Bruce Dickinson would be proud of) and hold its own with the band's more classic songs. Lucas has thrown in enough little different musical flavorings and lyrical ideas to keep things fresh while still unmistakably being Local H. It also doesn't hurt that Lucas, while never a slouch as a guitar player, has improved over the years as well.
With a healthy dose of the new album out of the way, the band was ready to tear through more of the older fan favorites -- "All Right, Oh Yeah" and the sardonic "All the Kids Are Right" (the shoulda-been-a-hit) off "Pack Up the Cats", "Fritz's Corner" off "As Good As Dead" and "Hands on the Bible" from the post-'Cats album "Here Comes the Zoo."
That led to the the callback track that closes "Hallelujah", "Waves Again." Definitely on the short list of highlights from the album, it closed the main set on a high note.
There would be no en masse chant of "encore", because it wasn't needed. Lucas left his guitar plugged in, noise still coming out as he walked off.
Sure enough, the two were back onstage soon enough, as the feedback stopped and the band started with "California Songs", the funny track of "Whatever Happened to PJ Soles" that shows off Lucas' knack for being amusing with straining too hard to be clever.
One more new song, "Look Who's Walking on Four Legs Again" followed. Then familiar stomp and feedback of "High-Fiving MF", the song that's closed more of the band's sets than any other, kicked in. The band rocked through it. The crowd didn't miss its sing-along cues and the evening was ready to close...
...Except the band had one more song up its sleeve, a cover of TV on the Radio's "Wolf Like Me" that Lucas and St. Clair ripped through with energy as if it were the first song of the night, not the 21st.
The size of the venue and the crowd were well below what a band like Local H deserves at this point in its career, one of the great Rock Injustices, to be sure.
But its testament to Local H's musicianship, song craft and midwestern work ethic that it didn't matter. In all the times, I've seen them, words like "perfunctory" or "half-assed" never had occasion to come up. When you have new songs this good and a back catalog so deep with quality material, it's hard to go wrong.
Though too many mainstream rock fans and what's left of major labels these days have their heads wedged deep in between their backsides in a case of possibly terminal cranial rectosis, that's on them.
Local H is one of the best rock bands they're missing. And if they weren't at the Bell House, shame on them, they missed a damn good rock show.
Some 20 years or go ago, one could be living in almost any large or even medium-to-small sized market and have a radio station playing some form of alternative music.
It emerged from what was called "College radio" in the '80s and produced its share of one-hit wonders. These are the acts who showed up on various compilations years later, the kind who'll be on the inevitable "Time-Life '90s collection" before long
Some of those acts fell off the radar and called it a day -- Belly, Semisonic, Spacehog, etc.
Some artists surfaced in more decidedly non-alternative settings. Letters to Cleo's Kay Hanley worked with Miley Cyrus. Semisonic's Dan Wilson picked up a Grammy for co-writing Adele's omnipresent "Someone Like You" and is now working with Engelbert Humperdinck (I am NOT making up the latter, either)..
But under the radar, some bands have not only kept doing, but have done their best material long after achieving "Buzz Bin" status. Nada Surf's moved past the uber-Weezerish hit "Popular" to produce years worth of good-to-great-to uniformly excellent mature power pop.
Then there's Local H. The Illinois-based rockers hit in 1996 with "Bound for the Floor", the track your less-knowledgeable friends probably refer to as "that Copacetic song." They were poised to build off the success of that track and the "As Good as Dead" album that spawned it with the excellent follow-up "Pack Up the Cats."
Unfortunately, that was the exact moment the band plunged down the rabbit hole of Major Label Hell, as the album got lost in the shuffle as their label was swallowed up by another.
After that, Local H disappeared from Major Label Land (a place more populated by metrosexual male singers and overly sexualized female singers of possibly legal age and autotuned bastardizations of hip-hop these days), it has soldiered on with a particularly strong run of music, especially beginning with 2003's "No Fun" EP.
The latest is the just-released "Hallelujah, I'm a Bum", another fine example of frontman Scott Lucas' abilty to craft a record around a common theme without concept-album filler. In this case, "Hallelujah" is an intelligent, pointed album on the state of politics in America circa 2012.
Thursday night's show was a triple bill that was more or less a double bill. Lucas, as he has on some other shows on the current tour, opened up sans drummer Brian St. Clair. Just Lucas, an acoustic guitar and a mixed set of tunes -- a cover of the Misfits' "Last Caress" (in the same manner as it appeared on one of the band's EPs, four songs from Lucas' rootsier Married Men and a couple Local H songs.
Even though the Bell House was, to put it mildly, filled less-than-capacity at this point, Lucas performed energetically, string breakage be damned. He was in fine voice and proved that he can do just as well without the heavy rock. Although he does very well in that setting. More on that later.
Next up was The Life and Times, the band that's been around off-and-on longer than singer/guitarist Allen Epley's previous band, the vastly underrated Shiner.
Epley felt the need to remark about the smattering of applause the band was getting a couple songs into the set. "Wow, hope you guys make more noise for Local H when they come on," he complained.
Perhaps he should have spent more time making sure the set began better, as the band opened with a rather meh "jam" in which one spends time waiting for the proper song to kick on and take off, only it never, ever does.
This is not to say Life and Times were bad. Far from it. The band is a tight unit and its performance picked up steam as it went on, even if it never quite won over the audience it had a chance to initially.
Plus, with Epley's voice often being a ringer for Ken Andrews and the band's musical flavoring offering more than a bit of Andrews' classic '90s band, Failure, it's not like it's not in one of my wheelhouses.
It certainly does this type of music better than, say, Andrews himself did with the band Year of the Rabbit. With Andrews more in the background side of the music industry these days, someone has to carry the torch.
But then, if there's a band that can still carry the torch for itself these days, it's Local H.
It's 2005 live album was sardonically titled "Local H Comes Alive." A more accurate, though less sardonic title might well be "Now That's a Rock and Roll Show, Goddammit!", because the band still brings the goods.
The goods delivery even takes place on a night in a club in Brooklyn with around 100 or so people, maybe up to half of the Bell House's Capacity.
While the crowd might have been small, it was full of people who clearly wanted to be there. In five boroughs with plenty of entertainment options -- musical and otherwise -- it was clear that the fans were ready to be entertained and that they were fans. Voices could be heard singing along not just with the familiar '90s favorites, but with the songs off "Hallelujah", released a month earlier.
The band's 21-song set touched on pretty much all the bases.While a few of the missing-in-setlist "No Fun" EPs tracks are among my all-time favorites from the band, with an available songlist as strong as Local H's, some good ones are bound not to be played on a given night.
It featured a healthy dose of the new record, a good thing when that record's as strong as "Hallelujah", arguably its best post-major release.
While the 40-something Lucas can still bounce around the stage like someone half his age, it doesn't hurt that he still has Brian St. Clair (Dave Grohl without the name recognition) more than capably manning the drum kit.
St. Clair supplied a heavy, dexterous attack that was heavy without being overly hammy.
The band ripped through three songs from the new album, "Waves", "Cold Manor" and "Here Come Old Laptop" before getting the obligatory, but not perfunctory rip through "Bound for the Floor" out of the way.
With the hit out of the way, it was time to mix up the setlist the rest of the night, starting with a stomping version of "They Saved Reagan's Brain", a catchy stomper that's one of the highlights on "Hallelujah."
It made a nice 1-2 punch with a cracking run through "The One With 'Kid', arguably the best song off the 'breakup' album "12 Angry Months,"
Clearly, the newer material (including "Feed a Fever", a song Christopher Walken's record producer Bruce Dickinson would be proud of) and hold its own with the band's more classic songs. Lucas has thrown in enough little different musical flavorings and lyrical ideas to keep things fresh while still unmistakably being Local H. It also doesn't hurt that Lucas, while never a slouch as a guitar player, has improved over the years as well.
With a healthy dose of the new album out of the way, the band was ready to tear through more of the older fan favorites -- "All Right, Oh Yeah" and the sardonic "All the Kids Are Right" (the shoulda-been-a-hit) off "Pack Up the Cats", "Fritz's Corner" off "As Good As Dead" and "Hands on the Bible" from the post-'Cats album "Here Comes the Zoo."
That led to the the callback track that closes "Hallelujah", "Waves Again." Definitely on the short list of highlights from the album, it closed the main set on a high note.
There would be no en masse chant of "encore", because it wasn't needed. Lucas left his guitar plugged in, noise still coming out as he walked off.
Sure enough, the two were back onstage soon enough, as the feedback stopped and the band started with "California Songs", the funny track of "Whatever Happened to PJ Soles" that shows off Lucas' knack for being amusing with straining too hard to be clever.
One more new song, "Look Who's Walking on Four Legs Again" followed. Then familiar stomp and feedback of "High-Fiving MF", the song that's closed more of the band's sets than any other, kicked in. The band rocked through it. The crowd didn't miss its sing-along cues and the evening was ready to close...
...Except the band had one more song up its sleeve, a cover of TV on the Radio's "Wolf Like Me" that Lucas and St. Clair ripped through with energy as if it were the first song of the night, not the 21st.
The size of the venue and the crowd were well below what a band like Local H deserves at this point in its career, one of the great Rock Injustices, to be sure.
But its testament to Local H's musicianship, song craft and midwestern work ethic that it didn't matter. In all the times, I've seen them, words like "perfunctory" or "half-assed" never had occasion to come up. When you have new songs this good and a back catalog so deep with quality material, it's hard to go wrong.
Though too many mainstream rock fans and what's left of major labels these days have their heads wedged deep in between their backsides in a case of possibly terminal cranial rectosis, that's on them.
Local H is one of the best rock bands they're missing. And if they weren't at the Bell House, shame on them, they missed a damn good rock show.
Monday, February 13, 2012
Coloring Within The Lines
By DEBORAH SPRAGUE
The folks behind the Grammy Awards like nothing better than a good, well-scripted story – and that’s exactly what the universe (helped along by the ever-predictable NARAS voters) delivered this past weekend. After several years of disjointed storylines – old standbys getting props, young turks performing and waiting for their shot at the gold – the fates converged and delivered a perfect storm of commercial success and unassailable artisanship.
And they called her Adele. And it was good.
Halfway through 2011, it was evident that the Brit singer’s second album, 21, was something special. You loved it. I loved it. Our moms loved it. Andy Rooney probably had it on his I-Tunes. The stage was set for Grammy domination, even before the specter of career-ending throat problems emerged from the shadows late in the year – giving the Grammy folks a chance to ponder her career mortality and offer a reward, either for a job (admittedly) remarkably well done, or as a parting gift.
By the time nominations were in, and it became clear that Adele stood a good chance of pulling off a sweep of epic proportions, it was equally clear that she’d dodged a bullet in terms of her health. Still, the viewing public was prepped to sit back and celebrate a six-for-six night on the part of the charming Cockney chick with the big voice – the script that stayed in place until 24 hours before showtime.
And then all hell broke loose.
Once an indispensable stitch in the fabric of Grammy weekend, from her double-digit wins through her presence at Clive Davis’s pre-awards hoedown, in the last few years, she’d become something of an afterthought. That all changed on Saturday afternoon, when Whitney’s sudden death prompted a rethink of the broadcast – ultimately retrofitted with a beautiful, poignant tribute keyed by one of Houston’s most high-profile acolytes, Jennifer Hudson – but not the party thrown by her mentor, which went on while her body went unclaimed a mere hundreds of feet away.
As for the broadcast itself? There was a sense that both Whitney and Adele loomed large. From host LL Cool J’s off-script prayer for the former – one of the most guilelessly moving moments in recent Grammy memory – to the happily-resolved ‘will she or won’t she?’ comeback performance by the win machine, the overall feeling was one of rooting for, rather than against, the big name.
And the big names delivered again and again throughout the show. Springsteen, with that powerful show-opening reprise of his everyman persona, Bruno Mars, with his glam-soul revue – replete with matching suits and vintage Motown choreography – just about all the big gestures seemed to connect.
There were exceptions, of course. Unrepentant domestic abuser Chris Brown’s mimicking of the old-school video game character Q Bert couldn’t distract viewers from his inability to lip-sync along with the backing tracks of whoever he hired to record the vocals for his latest sides, nor the repetitive nature of his sub-June Taylor dance moves. Brown’s one-time victim, Rihanna, didn’t fare much better. Note to RiRi: wig changes worked well as a focal point for Amadeus, not so much in a “live” performance at an awards show.
The spotlight on fakery – sweetened vocals, outright miming and so on – was most palpable when it was turned off altogether. The Foo Fighters delivered a stirring take on “Walk” – but then squandered the momentum by cozying up to Brown later in the show, while The Band Perry threatened to turn on the collective waterworks with their opening segment of a tribute to Glen Campbell, whose Alzheimer’s-induced farewell merited more attention that it received. (Campbell’s own goodbye performance of “Rhinestone Cowboy” opened the floodgates once and for all).
The older crowd got a lot more airtime than usual this year, thanks to the surfeit of tributes (Bonnie Raitt and Alicia Keys paying homage to the late Etta James) and a curious sense of obligation (two separate turns for Sir Paul McCartney). Admittedly, the momentum slowed a bit during these segments – the key demo is something like a half-century younger, after all – but the collective IQ boost was welcome.
As usual, the telecast was thrown off course by the self-serving rantings of NARAS head Neil Portnow, who opted to use his time on Sunday to inform us that the internet is evil – sounding like a cross between Abe Simpson and that redneck dad who blasted his daughter’s laptop with a shotgun in an effort to get her to eschew technology. But even he couldn’t dampen the mood.
No wardrobe malfunctions, no real need for a seven-second delay and no excess bare flesh – even Nicki Minaj kept her pants on while offending a fifth of the earth’s population with her art-damaged “blasphemy” – made for a decidedly non-envelope-pushing show, but one that tickled the pleasure center nevertheless.
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