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.
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.
Monday, December 17, 2012
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.
Sunday, February 12, 2012
Ladies and Gentlemen, It's the Adele Show
By KARA SPRAGUE
What if they gave an Awards show and nobody gave an award?
That's almost what the 2012 Grammy Awards came to.
The broadcast lasted around 3 1/2 hours when, they really could have finished if off in about 10 minutes.
Hand Adele her trophies and give the Foo Fighters theirs. Dole out a couple others. Easy-peasy.
The Grammys have definitely been streamlined. Numerous categories were eliminated (snubbing genres like the blues) while others were shunted to the non-televised hinterlands.
Then there was the bizarre treatment of rock. A number of rock awards were in that non-broadcast portion, yet there was more than a little of it during the televised broadcast.
Rap was an even more non-existent presence.
But without a great deal of suspense for the awards themselves, the only real questions would be how the performances themselves would be.
The first question was how producers would respond to yesterday's tragic death of Whitney Houston.
Without much turnaround time, the television broadcast began just over 26 hours after Houston's death, the tribute was kept simple.
Host LL Cool J, when he came out, began the show with a prayer, keeping it brief and too the point. A nice classy gesture.
Every major awards show has its "those who have passed away" in the previous year. Houston's face was the last one shown in this year's montage.
That segued to Jennifer Hudson, who delivered a performance that was the antithesis of Christina Aguilera's performance at Etta James' recent funeral. No inappropriate clothing. No oversinging. Just pure class.
Hudson nailed "I Will Always Love You" striking a balance between Dolly Parton's classic original approach and Houston's beloved full-on version. It was one of the takeaway moments of the night.
The night's other tear-jerking takeaway moment came earlier with a tribute segment to a performer who is not gone yet.
Glen Campbell, diagnosed with Alzheimer's, released the final album of his career last year, with an accompanying farewell tour. The diagnosis cut short what was an interesting artistic resurgence for Campbell, who was putting out good releases not unlike what Johnny Cash was doing with the "American" albums.
The Band Perry kicked off the tribute with a solid version of "Gentle On My Mind." Blake Shelton followed with a slightly tentative, but ultimately agreeable take on "Southern Nights."
The man himself followed to sing the obvious song one would expect him to sing for his last major national performance -- "Rhinestone Cowboy." Any doubts about how Campbell might pull it off in his condition were erased. He nailed it, ending by singing "Rhinestone cowboy and cowgirl" as the audience gave him a deserved standing ovation in the most poignant moment of the night.
Another successful tribute came was delivered by Alicia Keys and Bonnie Raitt, who teamed up to perform Etta James' classic "Sunday Kind of Love," showing a canny move away from the obvious of covering "At Last."
The moving tributes were the takeaway moments from the broadcast on the positive side of the ledger.
The negative side was led by the dual appearances by Chris Brown, who won the Best R&B album for F.A.M.E. It was the first appearance at the awards for Breezy since he assaulted then-girlfriend Rihanna the night before the two were scheduled to perform together at the 2009 Grammys.
Seeing Brown applauded after performance of his new single "Turn Up The Music" primarily evoked nausea, given the amount of apologists he's had since the incident and given that he's been prone to homophobic asshattery.
Honestly, the performance itself was enough to disturb the stomach. He danced around a set stolen from a Q-Bert game while dressed in a letterman's jacket. He couldn't be bothered to actually sing, as his vocals were pre-recorded and autotuned. He can dance, but when did "best dancer" become a Grammy category?
One wonders if anyone noticed the irony that Brown lip-synching an autotuned track and won an award from the same organization that took away an award from Milli Vanilli for lip syncing.
As if his solo performance wasn't bad enough, he reappeared later, dressed like Run-DMC circa 1985, during a mini-dance music set with David Guetta, Deadmau5 and Foo Fighters. Dressing like a beloved hip-hop icon in an effort to distract folks from the fact that a number of people intensely dislike you? Talk about tricky.
Much more watchable, though more befuddling, was Nicki Minaj's performance of "Roman Holiday." It hearkened back to the days of "MTV World Premiers" when you'd sit down for a 10-minute long "director's cut" with three minutes of song and seven of acting, special effects and other filler.
Pre-taped sketch with a Pope-ish guy? Check. Robed choir? Check. Levitation? Check. Dancing and flames calling to mind the fictional Broadway show "Satan's Alley" from the movie "Staying Alive"? Check. Fake British accent lifted from Billie Jo Armstrong? Actual song? Actual Song? Actual so-oh, there it is. Check.
Still, Minaj is an entertaining, engaging performer and she at least made the bloated silliness (in the "Gaga Slot") watchable.
Minaj didn't leave with the Best New Artist trophy, which went to honorary yacht rockers Bon Iver, who were neither best nor new.
The Grammys circa 2012 were also a time to promote new singles. Brown and Minaj did it. So did Bruce Springsteen and the E Street band opened the broadcast with "We Take Care of Our Own," the track that wouldn't have sounded out of place on "Born In the U.S.A.". It also injected a rare bit of topicality into the proceedings.
Paul McCartney performed "My Valentine", one of two standards-style songs he wrote for his new album "Kisses on the Bottom", which is in the tradition of, well, Rod Stewart's continuous flogging of "The American Songbook."
McCartney, in better voice than he was on "Saturday Night Live" a year ago, fared better when he closed the show with energetic performances of his songs from the medley on side two of "Abbey Road", complete with a guitar jam including the likes of Springsteen, Joe Walsh and Dave Grohl.
The only thing missing as the cherry on top of this little classic rock sundae would have been if Adele had shown up at the end to sing "Her Majesty."
Not that Adele wasn't on camera enough as it was. It was her night, as she pulled off a 6-for-6 sweep in the categories she was nominated in. She also pulled off her ubiquitous hit "Rolling in the Deep," her first time time performing since throat surgery. Even if her voice wasn't at 100 percent peak, it and the song, were well enough to justify the plaudits and sales.
The Beach Boys made an appearance as well, though it was not the "historic reunion" the broadcast teasers claimed it was, not with Carl and Dennis Wilson having passed away in 1998 and 1983, respectively.
Maroon 5 opened the mini-set with "Surfer Girl", showing that for all of Adam Levine's skills, he's not Carl Wilson. Foster the People pulled off the look of the Beach Boys circa 1964-65 and picked things up with their take on "Wouldn't It Be Nice?"
The Beach Boys themselves did "Good Vibrations." With Carl gone, Brian Wilson took the high part with aplomb. He fared better than Mike Love, who moved like an animatronic robot version of Mike Love in some sort of Disney Hall of Beach Boys.
Still going far beyond the "step into the unknown origins", the Foo Fighters, while hardly the only purveyors of "real rock" left, continue to be one of its rock solid proponents.
The band solidly performed "Walk", the best track of its Grammy-winning "Wasting Light" album. The Foos, despite their best efforts, didn't click quite so well in the dance-electronic section, a segment that felt undercooked.
It was also a wee bit ironic that Grohl and Co. were in the dance-electronic mini set considering his acceptance speech (for "Walk" as best rock performance). Grohl said, " "It's not about being perfect, it's not about sounding absolutely correct, it's not about what goes on in a computer; it's about what goes on in here (heart) and it's about what goes on in here (head)."
In the Nice Timing Department, Grohl's passioned speech, the best of the night, was cut off..with the song playing coming from LMFAO, who sound imperfect and incorrect despite going through the computer.
Rihanna's performance on her own was reasonable enough, but when Coldplay joined her for "Princess of China", the overall effect was underwhelming to sleep-inducing, especially with the earnest Brits not at their best.
At least the producers kept the appearances of Rihanna and Brown spaced far enough apart to keep things from being more awkward.
On the other hand, it can't be a coincidence that a song by self-selling success story Civil Wars was all that separated Brown's Grammy acceptance speech from Taylor Swift performance of the song "Mean", which has the recurring lines, "Someday I'll be big enough so you can't hit me and all you're ever gonna be is mean."
Elsewhere through the show, there was Bruno Mars (energetic and trying to bring back the 'bands in matching suits' look), Katy Perry (apparently previewing her halftime show for Super Bowl VXX) and Kelly Clarkson and Jason Aldean doing "Don't You Wanna Stay" (with best 'Idol' alum Clarkson carrying the day when Aldean's mic cut out).
Also worth noting was Stevie Wonder's appearance to introduce McCartney, though it only served as a reminder that it has been far too long since Wonder's prodigious and once-prolific musical gifts have born fruit in terms of new material.
On the non-musical front, there was a pointless appearance from NCIS actress Pauley Perrette and New York Giants players Mario Manningham and Victor Cruz to present an award. Perrette's appearance was to remind us that the Grammys were on CBS, apparently while Manningham and Cruz, although they might be able to just autotune their way through it, have not, for know, shown a desire to join the music biz.
Speaking of the music biz, the one moment where more viewers were likely to nod off like they'd just eaten tryptophan-laden Thanksgiving dinner was the speech by NARAS president Neil Portnow. It was an odd mix of seeming lifts from United Way PSAs and finger wagging in which Portnow unintentionally came off like Mr. Mackey from "South Park," all but saying "The Internet is bad. Mmmkay?"
But for an awards show known for its misfires (such as unintentionally turning Jethro Tull into a punchline) and years of being notoriously out-of-touch, the Grammys Circa 2012 managed not to embarrass themselves.
The good performances outnumbered the missteps, even with the whiff of calculation ii Brown on twice, Swift's song after Brown, the Foo's appearance at a dancefest. It might have been quease-inducing to see so much Brown. It might have been a challenge to figure out the bombastic inscrutability of Nicki Minaj's performance, but at the end of the day, this was the night for Adele and the tributes that the various performers got right, particularly for Houston, Campbell and James.
What if they gave an Awards show and nobody gave an award?
That's almost what the 2012 Grammy Awards came to.
The broadcast lasted around 3 1/2 hours when, they really could have finished if off in about 10 minutes.
Hand Adele her trophies and give the Foo Fighters theirs. Dole out a couple others. Easy-peasy.
The Grammys have definitely been streamlined. Numerous categories were eliminated (snubbing genres like the blues) while others were shunted to the non-televised hinterlands.
Then there was the bizarre treatment of rock. A number of rock awards were in that non-broadcast portion, yet there was more than a little of it during the televised broadcast.
Rap was an even more non-existent presence.
But without a great deal of suspense for the awards themselves, the only real questions would be how the performances themselves would be.
The first question was how producers would respond to yesterday's tragic death of Whitney Houston.
Without much turnaround time, the television broadcast began just over 26 hours after Houston's death, the tribute was kept simple.
Host LL Cool J, when he came out, began the show with a prayer, keeping it brief and too the point. A nice classy gesture.
Every major awards show has its "those who have passed away" in the previous year. Houston's face was the last one shown in this year's montage.
That segued to Jennifer Hudson, who delivered a performance that was the antithesis of Christina Aguilera's performance at Etta James' recent funeral. No inappropriate clothing. No oversinging. Just pure class.
Hudson nailed "I Will Always Love You" striking a balance between Dolly Parton's classic original approach and Houston's beloved full-on version. It was one of the takeaway moments of the night.
The night's other tear-jerking takeaway moment came earlier with a tribute segment to a performer who is not gone yet.
Glen Campbell, diagnosed with Alzheimer's, released the final album of his career last year, with an accompanying farewell tour. The diagnosis cut short what was an interesting artistic resurgence for Campbell, who was putting out good releases not unlike what Johnny Cash was doing with the "American" albums.
The Band Perry kicked off the tribute with a solid version of "Gentle On My Mind." Blake Shelton followed with a slightly tentative, but ultimately agreeable take on "Southern Nights."
The man himself followed to sing the obvious song one would expect him to sing for his last major national performance -- "Rhinestone Cowboy." Any doubts about how Campbell might pull it off in his condition were erased. He nailed it, ending by singing "Rhinestone cowboy and cowgirl" as the audience gave him a deserved standing ovation in the most poignant moment of the night.
Another successful tribute came was delivered by Alicia Keys and Bonnie Raitt, who teamed up to perform Etta James' classic "Sunday Kind of Love," showing a canny move away from the obvious of covering "At Last."
The moving tributes were the takeaway moments from the broadcast on the positive side of the ledger.
The negative side was led by the dual appearances by Chris Brown, who won the Best R&B album for F.A.M.E. It was the first appearance at the awards for Breezy since he assaulted then-girlfriend Rihanna the night before the two were scheduled to perform together at the 2009 Grammys.
Seeing Brown applauded after performance of his new single "Turn Up The Music" primarily evoked nausea, given the amount of apologists he's had since the incident and given that he's been prone to homophobic asshattery.
Honestly, the performance itself was enough to disturb the stomach. He danced around a set stolen from a Q-Bert game while dressed in a letterman's jacket. He couldn't be bothered to actually sing, as his vocals were pre-recorded and autotuned. He can dance, but when did "best dancer" become a Grammy category?
One wonders if anyone noticed the irony that Brown lip-synching an autotuned track and won an award from the same organization that took away an award from Milli Vanilli for lip syncing.
As if his solo performance wasn't bad enough, he reappeared later, dressed like Run-DMC circa 1985, during a mini-dance music set with David Guetta, Deadmau5 and Foo Fighters. Dressing like a beloved hip-hop icon in an effort to distract folks from the fact that a number of people intensely dislike you? Talk about tricky.
Much more watchable, though more befuddling, was Nicki Minaj's performance of "Roman Holiday." It hearkened back to the days of "MTV World Premiers" when you'd sit down for a 10-minute long "director's cut" with three minutes of song and seven of acting, special effects and other filler.
Pre-taped sketch with a Pope-ish guy? Check. Robed choir? Check. Levitation? Check. Dancing and flames calling to mind the fictional Broadway show "Satan's Alley" from the movie "Staying Alive"? Check. Fake British accent lifted from Billie Jo Armstrong? Actual song? Actual Song? Actual so-oh, there it is. Check.
Still, Minaj is an entertaining, engaging performer and she at least made the bloated silliness (in the "Gaga Slot") watchable.
Minaj didn't leave with the Best New Artist trophy, which went to honorary yacht rockers Bon Iver, who were neither best nor new.
The Grammys circa 2012 were also a time to promote new singles. Brown and Minaj did it. So did Bruce Springsteen and the E Street band opened the broadcast with "We Take Care of Our Own," the track that wouldn't have sounded out of place on "Born In the U.S.A.". It also injected a rare bit of topicality into the proceedings.
Paul McCartney performed "My Valentine", one of two standards-style songs he wrote for his new album "Kisses on the Bottom", which is in the tradition of, well, Rod Stewart's continuous flogging of "The American Songbook."
McCartney, in better voice than he was on "Saturday Night Live" a year ago, fared better when he closed the show with energetic performances of his songs from the medley on side two of "Abbey Road", complete with a guitar jam including the likes of Springsteen, Joe Walsh and Dave Grohl.
The only thing missing as the cherry on top of this little classic rock sundae would have been if Adele had shown up at the end to sing "Her Majesty."
Not that Adele wasn't on camera enough as it was. It was her night, as she pulled off a 6-for-6 sweep in the categories she was nominated in. She also pulled off her ubiquitous hit "Rolling in the Deep," her first time time performing since throat surgery. Even if her voice wasn't at 100 percent peak, it and the song, were well enough to justify the plaudits and sales.
The Beach Boys made an appearance as well, though it was not the "historic reunion" the broadcast teasers claimed it was, not with Carl and Dennis Wilson having passed away in 1998 and 1983, respectively.
Maroon 5 opened the mini-set with "Surfer Girl", showing that for all of Adam Levine's skills, he's not Carl Wilson. Foster the People pulled off the look of the Beach Boys circa 1964-65 and picked things up with their take on "Wouldn't It Be Nice?"
The Beach Boys themselves did "Good Vibrations." With Carl gone, Brian Wilson took the high part with aplomb. He fared better than Mike Love, who moved like an animatronic robot version of Mike Love in some sort of Disney Hall of Beach Boys.
Still going far beyond the "step into the unknown origins", the Foo Fighters, while hardly the only purveyors of "real rock" left, continue to be one of its rock solid proponents.
The band solidly performed "Walk", the best track of its Grammy-winning "Wasting Light" album. The Foos, despite their best efforts, didn't click quite so well in the dance-electronic section, a segment that felt undercooked.
It was also a wee bit ironic that Grohl and Co. were in the dance-electronic mini set considering his acceptance speech (for "Walk" as best rock performance). Grohl said, " "It's not about being perfect, it's not about sounding absolutely correct, it's not about what goes on in a computer; it's about what goes on in here (heart) and it's about what goes on in here (head)."
In the Nice Timing Department, Grohl's passioned speech, the best of the night, was cut off..with the song playing coming from LMFAO, who sound imperfect and incorrect despite going through the computer.
Rihanna's performance on her own was reasonable enough, but when Coldplay joined her for "Princess of China", the overall effect was underwhelming to sleep-inducing, especially with the earnest Brits not at their best.
At least the producers kept the appearances of Rihanna and Brown spaced far enough apart to keep things from being more awkward.
On the other hand, it can't be a coincidence that a song by self-selling success story Civil Wars was all that separated Brown's Grammy acceptance speech from Taylor Swift performance of the song "Mean", which has the recurring lines, "Someday I'll be big enough so you can't hit me and all you're ever gonna be is mean."
Elsewhere through the show, there was Bruno Mars (energetic and trying to bring back the 'bands in matching suits' look), Katy Perry (apparently previewing her halftime show for Super Bowl VXX) and Kelly Clarkson and Jason Aldean doing "Don't You Wanna Stay" (with best 'Idol' alum Clarkson carrying the day when Aldean's mic cut out).
Also worth noting was Stevie Wonder's appearance to introduce McCartney, though it only served as a reminder that it has been far too long since Wonder's prodigious and once-prolific musical gifts have born fruit in terms of new material.
On the non-musical front, there was a pointless appearance from NCIS actress Pauley Perrette and New York Giants players Mario Manningham and Victor Cruz to present an award. Perrette's appearance was to remind us that the Grammys were on CBS, apparently while Manningham and Cruz, although they might be able to just autotune their way through it, have not, for know, shown a desire to join the music biz.
Speaking of the music biz, the one moment where more viewers were likely to nod off like they'd just eaten tryptophan-laden Thanksgiving dinner was the speech by NARAS president Neil Portnow. It was an odd mix of seeming lifts from United Way PSAs and finger wagging in which Portnow unintentionally came off like Mr. Mackey from "South Park," all but saying "The Internet is bad. Mmmkay?"
But for an awards show known for its misfires (such as unintentionally turning Jethro Tull into a punchline) and years of being notoriously out-of-touch, the Grammys Circa 2012 managed not to embarrass themselves.
The good performances outnumbered the missteps, even with the whiff of calculation ii Brown on twice, Swift's song after Brown, the Foo's appearance at a dancefest. It might have been quease-inducing to see so much Brown. It might have been a challenge to figure out the bombastic inscrutability of Nicki Minaj's performance, but at the end of the day, this was the night for Adele and the tributes that the various performers got right, particularly for Houston, Campbell and James.
Saturday, February 11, 2012
Whitney Houston 1963-2011
By Kara Sprague
11 Number Ones on the Billboard Chart, including seven in a row at one point.
12 more songs in the Top Ten.
48, 3:55 p.m. Central Time.
Those last numbers, sadly, are the ones that stick out tonight.
Whitney Houston, seemingly omnipresent on the charts for years, was found dead in her room at the Beverly Hilton today (Saturday, February 11).
Details are scant at this point, so it's unknown as to what the actual cause of death was.
Just listen to any one of those classic singles -- "Saving All My Love For You", "The Greatest Love of All", "I Wanna Dance With Somebody", "I Will Always Love You"....any of them. And the voice is THE thing that stands out.
Total command of multiple octaves. Seemingly total assurance at a young age. She wasn't even 22 when her first big chart hit -- 1984's "You Give Good Love" was released.
But sadly, what also stands out is that today's tragic news is not the surprise it should be when someone so famous passes away at so young an age.
Houston's last Top 10 single was her version of the "Star Spangled Banner" from the Super Bowl 11 years ago, with no Top 40 singles since as her personal life took center stage and her music faded into the background.
A generation ago, it was easier for a celebrity to have their personal lives kept somewhat out of the public eye.
Then the tabloids became more popular, to point where more traditional news outlets copied them. It got to the point where the line between "tabloid" and "traditional" weren't blurred so much as left obliterated entirely. Then came "reality" shows which allowed some celebrities to basically become their own tabloid reporters.
Houston's marriage to Bobby Brown, already tabloid fodder, was laid out for public display on a televised reality show on Bravo back in 2005.
The show lasted one season, but between moments on that show and the other tabloid reports of marriage woes and substance abuse, Houston became less famous for that golden voice and more for being something of a public trainwreck.
Those classic songs would still come up on the radio, but there was the poorly received tour (complete with reports that the once-golden voice was in rough shape), the odd "crack is wack" denial to Diane Sawyer.
Sadly, at some point, Houston had turned from guaranteed hitmaker to guaranteed punchline.
Substance abuse casualties are nothing new to the business. Hendrix, Morrison, Joplin all dead at 27. Judy Garland, like Houston, gone at 48.
It's unknown at this writing whether substance abuse played a part, directly or indirectly, in Houston's death. But seeing so many casualties before and given her history, it's the easy path to wonder if it did.
it's impossible to be as shocked to the same degree that one was when John Lennon was gunned down in cold blood or Buddy Holly perished in a plane crash.
It doesn't mean that one can't be shocked and saddened. One would have to be made of stone not to be moved by this loss, one that took away Cissy's daughter and Bobbi's mother.
Compounding the tragedy is that Houston sought treatment for her addictions last year. Reports were more positive about her. She was set to star in a remake of the '70s cult film "Sparkle."
Whatever the specific nature of her addictions was, she was apparently fighting them and working to stay clean.
But unlike so many inspirational stories on celluloid, Houston didn't get the third act happy ending. She didn't get the triumphant comeback with the strong voice.
And that's what makes today so painful. Not only are fans mourning what they know they lost, but they are also mourning what could have been, both in the last decade and the decades worth of quality music.
Just as with Amy Winehouse in 2011 and Michael Jackson in 2009, the mourning is mixed with the hope that somehow, someone else will avoid those pitfalls, so that we aren't lamenting another loss.
But while Houston is gone, there will always be the songs and that voice.
And that is the No. 1 thing to remember about her.
11 Number Ones on the Billboard Chart, including seven in a row at one point.
12 more songs in the Top Ten.
48, 3:55 p.m. Central Time.
Those last numbers, sadly, are the ones that stick out tonight.
Whitney Houston, seemingly omnipresent on the charts for years, was found dead in her room at the Beverly Hilton today (Saturday, February 11).
Details are scant at this point, so it's unknown as to what the actual cause of death was.
Just listen to any one of those classic singles -- "Saving All My Love For You", "The Greatest Love of All", "I Wanna Dance With Somebody", "I Will Always Love You"....any of them. And the voice is THE thing that stands out.
Total command of multiple octaves. Seemingly total assurance at a young age. She wasn't even 22 when her first big chart hit -- 1984's "You Give Good Love" was released.
But sadly, what also stands out is that today's tragic news is not the surprise it should be when someone so famous passes away at so young an age.
Houston's last Top 10 single was her version of the "Star Spangled Banner" from the Super Bowl 11 years ago, with no Top 40 singles since as her personal life took center stage and her music faded into the background.
A generation ago, it was easier for a celebrity to have their personal lives kept somewhat out of the public eye.
Then the tabloids became more popular, to point where more traditional news outlets copied them. It got to the point where the line between "tabloid" and "traditional" weren't blurred so much as left obliterated entirely. Then came "reality" shows which allowed some celebrities to basically become their own tabloid reporters.
Houston's marriage to Bobby Brown, already tabloid fodder, was laid out for public display on a televised reality show on Bravo back in 2005.
The show lasted one season, but between moments on that show and the other tabloid reports of marriage woes and substance abuse, Houston became less famous for that golden voice and more for being something of a public trainwreck.
Those classic songs would still come up on the radio, but there was the poorly received tour (complete with reports that the once-golden voice was in rough shape), the odd "crack is wack" denial to Diane Sawyer.
Sadly, at some point, Houston had turned from guaranteed hitmaker to guaranteed punchline.
Substance abuse casualties are nothing new to the business. Hendrix, Morrison, Joplin all dead at 27. Judy Garland, like Houston, gone at 48.
It's unknown at this writing whether substance abuse played a part, directly or indirectly, in Houston's death. But seeing so many casualties before and given her history, it's the easy path to wonder if it did.
it's impossible to be as shocked to the same degree that one was when John Lennon was gunned down in cold blood or Buddy Holly perished in a plane crash.
It doesn't mean that one can't be shocked and saddened. One would have to be made of stone not to be moved by this loss, one that took away Cissy's daughter and Bobbi's mother.
Compounding the tragedy is that Houston sought treatment for her addictions last year. Reports were more positive about her. She was set to star in a remake of the '70s cult film "Sparkle."
Whatever the specific nature of her addictions was, she was apparently fighting them and working to stay clean.
But unlike so many inspirational stories on celluloid, Houston didn't get the third act happy ending. She didn't get the triumphant comeback with the strong voice.
And that's what makes today so painful. Not only are fans mourning what they know they lost, but they are also mourning what could have been, both in the last decade and the decades worth of quality music.
Just as with Amy Winehouse in 2011 and Michael Jackson in 2009, the mourning is mixed with the hope that somehow, someone else will avoid those pitfalls, so that we aren't lamenting another loss.
But while Houston is gone, there will always be the songs and that voice.
And that is the No. 1 thing to remember about her.
Have You Heard The News of a Certain Avian Variety?
By KARA SPRAGUE
One day, historical scholars will divide America's cultural timeline into two categories -- pre-M.I.A flipping the bird at the 2012 Super Bowl halftime and post-M.I.A bird flip.
Apologies came quickly for the gesture, which came from one of the four guest stars during Madonna's halftime show.
She joined soul singer/"The Voice" coach Cee-Lo Green, the inexplicably popular LMFAO (without their onstage guy who looks like A.W.E.S.O.M-O) and guest star du jour Nicki Minaj, who's seemingly been asked to appear everywhere short of dropping a verse or two on a Rod Stewart "American Songbook" track.
During M.I.A's turn, she, in a blink-and-you-missed-it moment, flashed a middle finger as she lip-synced the suitably censored line "don't give a sh--."
Not everybody blinked and missed it, of course.
That wasn't going to happen since 2004, the year of Janet Jackson's infamous "wardrobe malfunction" that briefly revealed her nipple.
That glimpse of nipple caused a number of people to lose their minds. They reacted as if Jackson and Justin Timberlake had re-enacted Caligula onstage, complete with the horse.
There was much wailing and gnashing of teeth, complete with cries of "What will we tell the children?"
These folks reacted as if it was the downfall of civilization as we know it, that it would result in national disasters like volcanic eruptions destroying Seattle and Portland, earthquakes sliding Los Angeles into the ocean and Rick Santorum winning Republican Primaries.
Since Nipplegate, the National Football League reacted by booking older, more "reliable" acts for its Super Bowl halftimes. If you didn't have an album out, you need not apply (until 2011's appearance by the Black-Eyed Peas).
The results ranged from solidly entertaining (Prince and Bruce Springsteen), to somewhat sad (what was left of The Who) and outright painful (the aforementioned BEP, where Fergie's attempts to imitate Axl Rose's voice made it sound as if she was choking on a deli pickle.
The "Must Have an Album in the '70s" rule was waived again for Madonna, whose first album was released in 1983.
Booking Madonna was no surprise. She was hugely influential on decades of pop stars who've come along since. Not coincidentally, she has new album, "MDNA" due out in March.
The results would have been fairly unremarkable if not for the briefly-extended middle digit from M.I.A., who uncoincidentally has a new album of her own due out this summer.
Madonna had to weigh in on Birdgate.
She called Ryan Seacrest's radio show Friday and said she was not happy about it.
"I understand it's punk rock and everything, but to me, there was such a feeling of love and good energy, and positivity, it seemed negative," Madonna said. "It's one of those things. It's such a teenager irrelevant thing to do...there was such a feeling of love and unity there. What was the point? It was just out of place
I'm sure M.I.A. was crushed that the woman who gave us the "Sex" book, complete with softcore porn and the faux-lesbian kiss with Britney Spears at the 2003 MTV Video Music Awards considered her middle finger to be "negative", "teenager" and "irrelevant."
And what of Madonna's halftime show itself?
To start with, the NFL, in an effort to keep control and limit the chances of spontaneity or actual excitement, likely wanted the vocals pre-recorded.
The result is that by having Madonna lip-sync, they basically turned her into one of her own female impersonators.
Starting with an entrance that was Lady Gaga-esque, or perhaps Madonna's interpretation of Gaga's interpretation of Madonna, the performer appeared in a Gladiator-themed costume.
In one enjoyable bit of what passed for subversiveness, Madonna (whose name was seemingly changed to "Gay Icon Madonna" at one point) opened her set with "Vogue."
The song's origins in gay subculture, accented with handsome male dancers and circus performers, was a nice little tweak at the uber-hetero Super Bowl festivities.
The rest of the performance featured plenty of spectacle and those aforementioned guest stars. But since it was pre-recorded, the net result was that flash and substance briefly duked it out before substance tapped out.
All the dazzling choreography in the world couldn't mask the the artificial nature of lip-synching to vocals, especially those "enhanced" with studio trickery anyway.
Aside from the controversy briefly lasting through a news cycle over an extended middle finger, the NFL got pretty much what it wanted -- safe flash, all hat/no cattle.
Make no mistake, the NFL is all about image these days.
The league has been enacting rules changes, enough of them that the National Football League will contain as much football as Bacos contains bacon. Just slap an asterisk on the NFL, noting that it's "artificially football flavored." Or change the name to the National Flag Football League, complete with the marketing slogan, "As Watchable As the Pro Bowl."
Life will go on for the artists involved.
Cee-Lo is on a hit TV show and no doubt has more hits of his own on the horizon.
LMFAO will keep working to stave off the running down of its 15 minutes of fame. The future fate of their A.W.E.S.O.M-O, modern pop's version of Bez, remains unclear.
Madonna will release "MDNA" and tour, charging top dollar unapologetically. Her icon status remains.
M.I.A.'s album will come out as well and we'll see if she has another "Paper Planes" or "Galang" in her.
The rest of us can go back to our lives until next year's Super Bowl halftime where things will be normal. That's unless Drake drops trou during a Hall and Oates lip sync medley.
If that happens, I'll be glad I didn't buy land in Los Angeles.
One day, historical scholars will divide America's cultural timeline into two categories -- pre-M.I.A flipping the bird at the 2012 Super Bowl halftime and post-M.I.A bird flip.
Apologies came quickly for the gesture, which came from one of the four guest stars during Madonna's halftime show.
She joined soul singer/"The Voice" coach Cee-Lo Green, the inexplicably popular LMFAO (without their onstage guy who looks like A.W.E.S.O.M-O) and guest star du jour Nicki Minaj, who's seemingly been asked to appear everywhere short of dropping a verse or two on a Rod Stewart "American Songbook" track.
During M.I.A's turn, she, in a blink-and-you-missed-it moment, flashed a middle finger as she lip-synced the suitably censored line "don't give a sh--."
Not everybody blinked and missed it, of course.
That wasn't going to happen since 2004, the year of Janet Jackson's infamous "wardrobe malfunction" that briefly revealed her nipple.
That glimpse of nipple caused a number of people to lose their minds. They reacted as if Jackson and Justin Timberlake had re-enacted Caligula onstage, complete with the horse.
There was much wailing and gnashing of teeth, complete with cries of "What will we tell the children?"
These folks reacted as if it was the downfall of civilization as we know it, that it would result in national disasters like volcanic eruptions destroying Seattle and Portland, earthquakes sliding Los Angeles into the ocean and Rick Santorum winning Republican Primaries.
Since Nipplegate, the National Football League reacted by booking older, more "reliable" acts for its Super Bowl halftimes. If you didn't have an album out, you need not apply (until 2011's appearance by the Black-Eyed Peas).
The results ranged from solidly entertaining (Prince and Bruce Springsteen), to somewhat sad (what was left of The Who) and outright painful (the aforementioned BEP, where Fergie's attempts to imitate Axl Rose's voice made it sound as if she was choking on a deli pickle.
The "Must Have an Album in the '70s" rule was waived again for Madonna, whose first album was released in 1983.
Booking Madonna was no surprise. She was hugely influential on decades of pop stars who've come along since. Not coincidentally, she has new album, "MDNA" due out in March.
The results would have been fairly unremarkable if not for the briefly-extended middle digit from M.I.A., who uncoincidentally has a new album of her own due out this summer.
Madonna had to weigh in on Birdgate.
She called Ryan Seacrest's radio show Friday and said she was not happy about it.
"I understand it's punk rock and everything, but to me, there was such a feeling of love and good energy, and positivity, it seemed negative," Madonna said. "It's one of those things. It's such a teenager irrelevant thing to do...there was such a feeling of love and unity there. What was the point? It was just out of place
I'm sure M.I.A. was crushed that the woman who gave us the "Sex" book, complete with softcore porn and the faux-lesbian kiss with Britney Spears at the 2003 MTV Video Music Awards considered her middle finger to be "negative", "teenager" and "irrelevant."
And what of Madonna's halftime show itself?
To start with, the NFL, in an effort to keep control and limit the chances of spontaneity or actual excitement, likely wanted the vocals pre-recorded.
The result is that by having Madonna lip-sync, they basically turned her into one of her own female impersonators.
Starting with an entrance that was Lady Gaga-esque, or perhaps Madonna's interpretation of Gaga's interpretation of Madonna, the performer appeared in a Gladiator-themed costume.
In one enjoyable bit of what passed for subversiveness, Madonna (whose name was seemingly changed to "Gay Icon Madonna" at one point) opened her set with "Vogue."
The song's origins in gay subculture, accented with handsome male dancers and circus performers, was a nice little tweak at the uber-hetero Super Bowl festivities.
The rest of the performance featured plenty of spectacle and those aforementioned guest stars. But since it was pre-recorded, the net result was that flash and substance briefly duked it out before substance tapped out.
All the dazzling choreography in the world couldn't mask the the artificial nature of lip-synching to vocals, especially those "enhanced" with studio trickery anyway.
Aside from the controversy briefly lasting through a news cycle over an extended middle finger, the NFL got pretty much what it wanted -- safe flash, all hat/no cattle.
Make no mistake, the NFL is all about image these days.
The league has been enacting rules changes, enough of them that the National Football League will contain as much football as Bacos contains bacon. Just slap an asterisk on the NFL, noting that it's "artificially football flavored." Or change the name to the National Flag Football League, complete with the marketing slogan, "As Watchable As the Pro Bowl."
Life will go on for the artists involved.
Cee-Lo is on a hit TV show and no doubt has more hits of his own on the horizon.
LMFAO will keep working to stave off the running down of its 15 minutes of fame. The future fate of their A.W.E.S.O.M-O, modern pop's version of Bez, remains unclear.
Madonna will release "MDNA" and tour, charging top dollar unapologetically. Her icon status remains.
M.I.A.'s album will come out as well and we'll see if she has another "Paper Planes" or "Galang" in her.
The rest of us can go back to our lives until next year's Super Bowl halftime where things will be normal. That's unless Drake drops trou during a Hall and Oates lip sync medley.
If that happens, I'll be glad I didn't buy land in Los Angeles.
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