December 2007 Archives
The Mae Shi jump start the night with some fresh blood. They'll be at the Smell in downtown Jan. 3rd, 2008.
The Adolescents get the pit rockin! The hardcore fans swallowed this set a little easier than the Germs set with the "actor" in the vocal slot. Frank Agnew, Jr. on guitar. (Uncle Frank Agnew is listed as the current guitarist, but the kid was young)
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20. Jens Lekman-Night Falls Over Kortedala [Secretly Canadian]
On first listen, Jens Lekman reminds you of Morrissey. Like the ex-Smith's frontman, the 26-year old Swede's got a rich baritone warble, a sly wit and a penchant for moony-eyed romanticism. But that's where the similarities stop. Lekman's the sort who'd write a song ("A Postcard to Nina") about posing as the boyfriend of his lesbian friend while on vacation in Berlin. If a girl from Berlin asked Morrissey to do something like that, he'd probably laugh at her, tell her she was fat and head to the local leather club.
You'd want Jens Lekman to date your sister. He's completely non-threatening, sharply-dressed and witty. The kind of guy chap who has no problem telling the media that he's in "love with being in love." This is probably because of Lekman is Swedish, and let's be honest, we'd all be pretty stoked too if we had six weeks of vacation, universal health care, good cheap vodka, and 6-foot tall blonde bombshells around every korner. But what separates Lekman from other sappy singer-songwriters is his sense of humanity. He doesn't blame his lesbian friend's father for his bigotry. Instead, he's a "sweet old man who just can't understand." With its nostalgic longing, "Friday Night at the Drive-In Bingo" reminds you of a Swedish version of The Talking Heads' "The Big Country." Yet rather than sneering "I wouldn't live there if you paid me," Lekman dreams of bringing some friends out to the country and turning the clock back to 1952. Sure it's a tad Vanilla, but give the guy a break, what's he supposed to do, complain about much he hates Ikea?
MP3: Jens Lekman-"Friday Night at the Drive-In Bingo"
19. Kanye West-Graduation [Roc-A-Fella]
I think Graduation is the 19th best record of the year but I still kind of hate it. This is partially because I am a "hater" (maybe), but also partially because anything by Kanye West is surprisingly easy to hate. Accordingly, there are any number of gripes that you might have with Graduation. "Drunk and Hot Girls" has by now probably been used in 43 fraternity date rapes. It features Chris Martin, which makes it 33 percent more boring. It features more synths than a Depeche Mode record, which makes it 66 percent more gay. And lyrically, Kanye's never been this simplistic. I mean "Let's get lost tonight/you could be my black Kate Moss tonight?" Really?
But over-ambition has always been West's trademark and Graduation is no different, containing as much brilliance as it is has hubris. Blessed with the ability to tap into the main vein of the zeitgeist, Kanye mixes and mashes everything everything from Young Jeezy and Lil Wayne to Daft Punk and Michael Jackson, to Steely Dan and Can, to Jay-Z and DJ Premier. If the hoary cliche reads that there's something for everyone, Graduation is the rare record that actually delivers. On the mic, Kanye is still never going to be anyone's favorite MC, but he's improved with time. Most importantly, he's learned how to minimize his flaws and maximize his strengths. Even if he's still arrogant enough to brag that you can't tell him nothing, at the very least, Graduation is good enough for him to have earned that right.
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25. Wu-Tang Clan-8 Diagrams [SRC/Loud]
8 Diagrams is east coast hardcore rap that doesn't sound like
There are no accessible monsters on here like “Criminology” or “Bring The Pain.” Then again, this isn’t another Cappadonna album or a return to Bobby Digital. 8 Diagrams doesn’t fit into a world of iPods and individual downloads. From the opening dialogue on “Campfire” to the heartfelt, albeit too long, closer “Life Changes,” it demands your full attention. Whereas the best example of Wu-Tang’s glory days is found on the new Ghostface album The Big Doe Rehab, the future of what Wu-Tang and all its members could be walks quietly throughout 8 Diagrams. That is if they ever stop bitching.-Zilla
24. Wooden Shjips-Wooden Shjips [Holy Mountain]
It takes a certain type of record to truly feel right in Los Angeles. Something shapeless, druggy and dumb. This is it. For about two weeks earlier this month, I drove around town bumping nothing but Wooden Shjips. It seemed to cause everything to move in slow motion, weird chanting and sinister organs and heavy traffic, extraordinarily stoned, this turned up loud. Hanging my head at the failed reality stars and all the iron and concrete until I was ready to scream, this album was the only thing capable of pacifying me. It allowed me to breathe and I'm not sure if it would or could make as much sense anywhere else. In their wild-eyed haze Wooden Shjips somehow captured the fuzzy neon drone and soft apocalypse of wintertime Los Angeles. I suppose I should send them a fruit basket or maybe just an eighth.
MP3: Wooden Shjips-"We Ask You To Ride"
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Joe Strummer Tribute,
Key Club, December 22
Words and photos by Aimee Candaleria
Three Bad Jacks pay tribute to Strummer.
This evening a packed house came to the Key Club in remembrance of Joe Strummer who passed away five years ago on this day. Had he not died, Strummer would have been 55 this year, and most likely still playing clubs and making records.
Joe Strummer's passion and energy was very much beyond his years, and even five years so, for many of us at tonight's tribute, we can still feel the great loss ofsuch an influential man no longer with us. As John Lennon may have been to those a bit older, for my generation, he was someone whose message was heard and understood by many people, races, and cultures - a message undiluted by his passing.
The crowd was a mix of generations that would have made Strummer proud: ‘ol school 70’s punks reliving the fierceness of their youth to an eclectic mix of teens and twenty-somethings who were there because it was a night for Joe and to celebrate what punk means to them. The bands' wide-ranging sound made a nice complement to the crowd's diversity.
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Ozomatli, Weapon of Choice
House of Blues, 12/20
I know it’s been said before but I’ll say it again: If heaven had to spit out a party band, it would be Ozomatli. They are the reigning kings of feel-good L.A. roots music. Aside from one lady in a black halter top and spike heels who was throwing up in the restroom, absolutely everyone was having a good time. Tre Hardson (formerly of Pharcyde) had an ear to ear grin and shiny nuclear glow that commanded the show from first note. Limbs flailing, smashing a tambourine, Hardson danced right on time with guitarist Raul Pacheco and fellow vocalists Justin Poree and Asdru Sierra.
Photos by Rena Kosnett. Click here for more from the show.
The dancing—that’s something I’ve always found impressive about Ozomatli. Not many acts out there are tough enough to warrant attention with hip-hop fans, yet simultaneously home-fried and sweet enough to incorporate a prominent brass section, swirl their guitars around in sync with little choreographed dance moves, and be totally smiley and ebullient. Besides the crowd’s vast multiethnic make-up (typical for Ozomatli shows), it was also clearly multigenerational. A common trope was the tattooed father drinking and dancing with his tattooed son and/or daughter. If I was queen of L.A. I would make the City's anti-gang force attend more Ozomatli concerts so they could harvest a few cues on bridging racial divides.
Photos by Rena Kosnett. Click here for more from the show.
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30. Jay-Z -American Gangster [Roc-A-Fella]
Is American Gangster that good or was Kingdom Come that mediocre? They're suprisingly surprisingly similar when you think about it--a handful of absolutely
great songs coupled with some average tracks (by Jay-Z standards). But it's undeniably more exciting to hear mediocre songs in the vein of Reasonable Doubt like "Say Hello" and "Sweet" compared to the US Weekly escapades of "Hollywood" and "I Made it" from "Kingdom Come."
Oh yeah, and Mr. Carter aka The GOAT (yeah, I said it) comes through to smash all contenders . Hip hop single of the year "Roc Boys" is only four joints away from quotable of the year "Ignorant Shit." Observe how Jay murders Nas on...Jay's own shit via "Success." And with the exception of the out of place Lil' Wayne appearance on "Hello Brooklyn 2.0," this movie-inspired soundtrack uses high-profile cameos (Beyonce, Kanye, Beans, Cassie, Bilal) like actors for specific roles. This is one of most focused major label hip hop albums of the year. And there's no sign of Chris Martin! L'chaim!-Zilla
29. Citay-Little Kingdom [Dead Oceans]
If I were Citay I'd go the jam band route. Fuck all this freak-folk, indie credibility shit. Didn't you guys get the memo? Hipsters don't like guitars anymore. Hipsters want two dancing gnomes clad in neon, one from Sri Lanka, the other from Austria, who make afro-pop influenced minimalist techno. But if the jam-band nation ever wrapped their ears around Citay's golden state psychedelia it would be over in five bong rips flat. Trust. There's a moment in the middle of "A Riot of Color," the third song on Little Kingdom, when frontman, Ezra Feinberg, uncorks a amber-colored guitar line eerily reminiscent of jam Buddha, Jerry Garcia. It's a song possessed by an other-worldly beauty, with a tangerine Led Zeppelin III-type acoustic foundation that lets Feinberg's Spaceman Spliff flights breathe. Citay are the kind of band that can only come from San Francisco. All bay area breeze, mellow sunshine and edge of the continent infinity. So c'mon hippies, I know there's a few of you out there reading this, put down your String Cheese records, prepare your finest bowl of sour diesel, throw on a set of headphones and turn Little Kingdom up--loud.
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Ryan Adams - Royce Hall, Jan. 30 & 31
Dave Alvin - McCabe's Jan. 18 & 19
Autechre - Echo, April 4
Bad Religion - House of Blues, April 4 & 5
Big Sandy, Deke Dickerson - Safari Sam's, Dec. 28
Black Heart Procession - Spaceland, Jan. 11
Black Mountain - Troubadour, Feb. 5
Built to Spill, Meat Puppets - Feb. 22 & 23 (all ages, 8 p.m.)
Circle Jerks - Henry Fonda, Jan. 4
The Cool Kids - Echo, Jan. 19
Nikka Costa - Roxy, Dec. 30
DJ Shadow, Cut Chemist - Wiltern Feb. 15 and House of Blues Anaheim Feb. 14
Dead Meadow - Echo, Feb. 5
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Do we need to count down backwards? For a change, why not start with the best and just work our way back to the merely excellent. Frankly, when you get past the top four or five we're probably just talking about fractions of fractions, and the incorrect predilections of taste by our comrades, you know?
1. Detour - Justice, Kinky, Shout Out Louds, Satellite Party, Raveonettes, Patton Oswalt, Bloc Party..., downtown, October 7
Of course it was #1. Last year's Detour may have had bigger marquee names, but this year featured just one excellent band after another, with a huge variety of sounds and styles, and the fun of wandering around downtown LA for hours on end.
Justice captured the biggest, most raucous crowd, harnessed the moment and delivered a massive dirty-techno throwdown. Read more here and see more pictures here and here.
2. White Stripes, Tower Records, June 20
Christmas has come early. Peppermint-striped cigarette girls hawking dildo-sized candy canes and other White Stripes mementos circled the crowd. The other Jack, Jack Black, introduced the duo.
Then Jack and Meg unleashed a performance ferocious enough to crumble the building to its foundation a good few months before its slated demolition (as was the gossip throughout the night).
(photos by Timothy Norris)
Click here for the rest of Ryan Ward's review and Timothy's Norris' pictures.
3. Morrissey - Hollywood Bowl, June 8
There were the concerts in Pasadena and the weird multi-night mess at the Palladium as well, but it was the show at the Bowl that seemed to come together best for Moz. He might have played LA more than Spoon this year.
Photo by Timothy Norris. Click here for more.
From Siran Babyan's review: "Wearing a white suit as if he were a killer shark sniffing meat-infested blood, Morrissey opened his third local date with a bang, ripping into “The Queen is Dead” while a backdrop of black-and-white James Dean (the king of all cool iconography) pictures watched over him. All the Smiths' pickin's were ripe, including the yodel-licious “The Boy With The Thorn In His Side,” where he sounds like he's climbing a mountain with the von Trapp family, and Johnny Marr's psychedelic opus “How Soon Is Now?,” which current skinsman Matthew Walker turned into a thunderous powwow. In fact, all the songs were given an extra razzle-dazzle 'em effect: sleazy horns here, more wah wah guitar there. Morrissey's also wise about the solo material he's faithful to, from perennial early classics “Everyday is Like Sunday” and “The Last of the Famous International Playboys” to newer cuts off his last two recent albums, including “Irish Blood, English Heart,” “The First of the Gang to Die” and “In the Future When All's Well,” which easily stand out as some of his best.
Many more after the jump.
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35. Wilco-Sky Blue Sky [Nonesuch]
When music critics scoff that Wilco are "dad-rock," they're absolutely right. Sort of. My dad only listens to sports radio and Israeli gypsy pop, a genre that sounds like a hybrid between Gogol Bordello and a cat slaughterhouse. Wilco are actually my mom's favorite band. She's got every one of their albums stretching all the way back to Uncle Tupelo. (This was my work, after I grew tired of hearing her proselytize the gospels of Dwight Yoakam and George Strait)
Then the other day, apropos to nothing, she told me that she still liked Sky Blue Sky, but found it a lot more boring than the rest of the band's work. I couldn't exactly argue. Ever since he stopped popping pills like Fat Elvis on Spring Break and got rid of the migraines, Jeff Tweedy's been in a sort of amiable anomie, penning lyrics about folded jeans, mowing the lawn and learning to do laundry. It's a little dull. Hell, my cat is napping to Sky Blue Sky as we speak. But despite the occasional banality, Tweedy and the dream-team backing band that is Wilco, 2007, are just too talented not to be able to redeem the lyrical malaise. Yeah, it lacks the ambition of Wilco's earlier material, but Sky Blue Sky remains an impeccably recorded, well-crafted album from one of the finest working bands of its generation. And I'm sure when I'm 50, it'll be a great album to mow the lawn to.
34. The Ponys-Turn the Lights Out [Matador]
Even the positive notices for Turn the Lights Out seemed begrudging. Chalk it up to the potential The Ponys flashed on their 2004 debut, Laced With Romance, which skated in in just the nick in time to get lumped into the dying days of the "garage-rock movement." But rather than please critics with a bunch of atonal guitar-freak outs that reflected their "inner rage," against the "system," the Ponys have kept it simple, still mining Television and Sonic Youth for inspiration, complete with heavy gnashing guitar riffs, a CBGB fast rhythm section and aloof punk-inflected vocals. On record, it might seem a little too polished and mannered for the experimentally inclined, but live their sludgy guitars and head-banger volume attack with such a flesh-melting intensity that you can't help but be floored. Plus, the album cover might be top 10 this year.
MP3: The Ponys "Double Vision"
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Michael Hurley has been kicking around since 1965, when he released for Folkways Recordings his First Songs LP. Those songs introduced his aesthetic, one that has remained consistent in the intervening forty years and 21 albums: simple, joyous numbers accompanied on guitar and, occasionally, mouth trumpet (he squeezes his lips and blows a melody). That it's taken so long for him to be fetishized by the hipsters is amazing; it should have happened a decade ago. But if you're a Cat Power fan, you've heard a few of Hurley's best; Chan Marshall has covered his “Swee dee dee” and “Werewolf,” and though Hurley's voice is less flattering by far than hers, his originals cut to the bone. He's kind of an odd duck, Hurley is, and you can hear it in his songs. "Slurf Song," from the great Have Moicy album he recorded with the Holy Modal Rounders, rejoices in the bounty and pleasures of food -- pototoes, "perch from Lake Champlain," spaghetti -- before taking a blind-siding scatological turn. "Open Up," from his 1972 album Armchair Boogie, is a grand celebration of sex: "Freefalling, though the abyss/That's where I wanna be," sings Hurley. Hear, hear!
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40. The Twilight Sad-Fourteen Autumns and Fifteen Winters [Fat Cat]
Take note Bloc Party. This is how you do histrionic, nostalgic and bombastic arena rock for indie kids without coming off like total fucking pussies. A Weekend in the City wasn't terrible, but it wasn't good either, and by the end of it I wanted to give Kele a handkerchief, pat him on the back and tell him to "grow a pair." (Oh c'mon, you know you wanted to too). Of course, A Twilight Sad has yet to cross over to the 16-year old Gossip Girl demographic, a fact that can largely be attributed to the minimal promotional budget of tiny British-indie Fat Cat Records, coupled with lead singer James Graham's Groundskeeper Willie-thick Scottish brogue. But if you can get past making jokes about "greased Scotsmen," and "North Kilt Town," few bands have their ability to reconcile the divide between massive anthemic balladry and intimate bedroom confessionals. As The Twilight Sad's grinding winter-white guitars and rowdy rhythm section blur with Graham's lonely claustrophobia, it's hard not to be convinced that by the end of their career, this band is going to be rolling in their retirement grease.
MP3: The Twilight Sad-"Walking For Two Hours" (Left-Click)
39. Madlib-The Beat Konducta Vol. 3-4 [Stones Throw]
Vol. 3 in the Beat Konducta series is another banger for the blunted set, one that largely flew under the radar, ignored in the frenzy to lavish praise on the Graduation of that other much more famous rapper/producer that dropped his album the week after Madlib Like its predecessor, last year’s nearly as strong Beat Konducta Vol. 1-2: Movie Scenes, Vol. 3 scores an imaginary film. Unlike the previous collection that focused on stitching together a bunch of ridiculously listenable funk and soul samples, this time Madlib toted his bong to India, crafting a seamless 29 minute mix of looped sitars and gritty dusty drums, patches of Bollywood dialogue, and Redman vocal samples. Oriental flutes and vinyl crackle. Order some Lamb Curry and Cheese Naan, roll a Grape Dutch and serve (No Marques Houston.)
MP3: Madlib-"Dancing Girls Theme" (Left-Click)
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45. Joe Buhdha Presents Klashnekoff: Lionheart: Tussle With the Beast [Low Life Records/Riddim Killa]
Exactly three British rappers have managed to "break" the American market in this decade, and by "break" I mean getting the American music press to hype them as the best thing since Earl Grey and raisin currants. Yeah, I like the Streets but he's so laughably bad as a rapper that it was only when I got past thinking of him as "hip-hop" that I was able to enjoy his records. Meanwhile, Dizzee Rascal's practically unlistenable, a strawman for the Grime movement that was as likely to take over America as the African Killer Bees. Lady Sovereign might be the best rapper of the bunch, but unfortunately she's 5'0 foot tall and looks like Napoleon Dynamite's girlfriend. XXL ain't giving her the cover anytime soon.
Klashnekoff probably isn't about to brace the face of American print mags either. Other British rappers have been grime, Klashnekoff is grimy. He raps like he's trying to sear flesh. His philosophy is "come in peace or leave in pieces." His stories about life in the Hackney ghettos in London are told with a thick, often indecipherable, British project slang but reveal a heavy creative debt to mid-90s New York hip-hop. Indeed, the leader of the Terra Firma crew cites the Wu as his main influence, flips a Nas-sample for a hook, shouts Pharoahe Monch out and even enlists Kool G Rap to shred a track. Behind the boards, Joe Buhdha admirably recalls early Mobb Deep, but in the end Klashnekoff is the star. If you've thought the British rap you've heard in the past was....well...a little too British, give Klashnekoff a chance. He's not just a great British rapper, he's a great rapper, period.
MP3: Klashenkoff-"The Revolution Will Not Be Televised on Channel U" (Left-Click)
44. Elvis Perkins-Ash Wednesday [XL}
Regardless of back story, Ash Wednesday is an outstanding record. Elvis Perkins’s powerful voice is capable of hitting Jeff Buckley’s heights; his graceful lyrics are blessed with poetic detail, filled with images of young Christmas brides' hair going gray under the spell of tragedy, and dreams “that have gone overslept.” The arrangements are pristine, melancholic pop, at times reminiscent of M. Ward, Destroyer, and Elliot Smith.
But when you factor in Perkins' tragic past, (his actor father, Anthony Perkins died of AID's in 1992 while his mother, photographer Berry Berenson died on 9/11), few albums made in recent memory sound this harrowing or painful and even fewer yield such a sense of catharsis. Listening to Ash Wednesday, one feels strangely cleansed, as though Perkins has soaked up and synthesized the word’s sins, to channel them into a work of stark beauty.
MP3: Elvis Perkins-"While You Were Sleeping" (Left-Click) http://www.mediafire.com/?3yztgthjfey
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50. Redman-Red Gone Wild [Def Jam]
Other than M.O.P., Redman is the only East Coast rapper able to conceptually re-make the same album since 1992 and get away with it. The only difference is that where Billy Danze and Fizzy Womack are concerned with curb-checking you if you wander into Brownsville, Reggie Noble wants to blow trees, molest chubby women, watch cartoons, babble about Brick City, and freestyle. And just like M.O.P, Redman is really really good when he sticks to the script. The only thing different with Red Gone Wild is that this time the Funk Doc put a weird Smurf-looking anime character on the cover, a decision no doubt made under the influence of some strong Super Skunk. Ultimately, it's Redman. He tells you he's gonna' be "breakin' you off wif da ultimate funk shit!" And he does. Let the weed do the rest. ---Zilla
49. Blockhead-Uncle Tony's Coloring Book [Ninja Tune]
Blockhead's a fitting name for the Manhattan-based producer born Tony Simon, who like his Charlie Brown referencing alias, gets no respect. Best known for his production work with Aesop Rock, Blockhead has released a steady string of great hip-hop instrumental albums over the four years that received the worst response possible: they've been ignored. But below the radar, Blockhead has evolved into one of the best producers in hip-hop, mainstream or otherwise. Not to mention his Party Fun Action Committee record is probably the funniest LP made this decade (really.)
On Uncle Tony's Coloring Book, Blockhead trades in the brooding, candles and seance vibe of his previous work, for a more upbeat, lush sound. Resuscitating 40s blue jazz notes, aching soul samples and acid rock guitar riffs and melding them to his crate digging aesthetic, Blockhead's third record might be his best yet. Now people need to stop being such blockheads and pay attention.
Download:
MP3: Blockhead-"Grape Nuts and Chalk Sauce" (Left-Click)
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10. Sea Wolf-Leaves in the River
At times, Leaves In the River reads a little predictably quirky, but Alex Church's pop heart salvages this from being the effort of another accordian-toting, maritime metaphor-using copycat. The sound might not be the most original (I can't wait for Colin Meloy's "Shark N---s (Biters)" skit on the next Decemberists record), but when Church connects, as like on Starbucks-gypsy stomp of "Winter Windows" or Indie 103.1 staple, "You're a Wolf," it's almost impossible to resist.
Watch "You're A Wolf"
9. Le Switch-Hello Today
As Duke has repeatedly pointed out, Aaron Kyle's brand of tipsy saloon-rock grows on you like a fungus. At first, you're kind of like, 'hey a fungus, maybe I should get rid of that.' Then you realize that Aaron's a pretty big dude and maybe you shouldn't be so quick to go to the doctor. And the next thing you know, you're including him on your "Best Of" lists and not even because you're trying to avoid a brawl, (therein violating your personal rule about never feuding with bands named after weapons), but more importantly, because of the fact that Kyle is a deceptively proficient songwriter.
MP3: Le Switch-"Living In Another World" (Left-Click)
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Bjork at the Nokia Theater, December 12
By Randall Roberts
Last night’s Bjork show at the Dystopia – er, I mean Nokia -- Theatre downtown didn’t really start to make sense to me until afterward, when some friends and I ended up at the Pacific Dining Car – “an elegant place to hide” -- on 6th Street downtown, for some Swiss eggs, which were exquisitely creamy, and martinis, made with gin and two olives. The place, if you’ve never been there, is big, with many rooms and many tables, and has the vibe of a pre-WWII-era rail car (think Strangers on a Train). Eating and sipping and laughing, it felt as though we were celebrating a journey we had all taken together, returning home via railcar after a visit to the future, where we saw a performance featuring an elegantly odd lady dressed in sparkly future fashion. This apparition appeared with her 10-piece Lucia Pamela-style all female brass band, and four men playing crazy techno-delic instruments. It was as though we were celebrating the presentation of a collection of ideas, and colors, and, above all, sounds, unimaginable where we were from, like we were witnessing some some weird ritual. Even down to her name: Bjork.
Dressed in an outfit that my grandpa would have laughed about from now till sundown – some fluffy shiny winged-thing – and wearing a golden headband that sprayed sparkles every time she shook her head (like pixies sneezing?), Bjork the future lady appeared only after her brass band, dressed in baggy red clown-type get-ups (red flags sprouted from their backbones and floated above their heads), marched in procession onto stage and introduced Her with much blurting and bleeting. (Three trombones! Two French horns! A tuba! And partridge in a pair tree!). The crowd, a collection of many different Caucasion varieties, from Nordic to Teutonic to American, British and French, spanned generations. Wood nymphs, New Agers, Renaissance Fairies, empowered former grrls, some womyn, even a few hipster grandmas, lavished the fair maiden with appreciation, all joined by a shared understanding of the power of beauty. Many testosterone-deprived men mumbled along, half drowning in Nokia’s collected estrogen, and cheered just as loudly as the females when Bjork began with “Anchor Song.” “I live by the ocean,” she sang, “And during the night … I dive into it …. Down to the bottom.” And so we traveled with her, down, down, down.
Photos by Timothy Norris
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Animal Collective-Strawberry Jam
Sounds Like Bad Acid Trip
At arcade in New Jersey
Let Panda roam solo.
Arcade Fire-Neon Bible
Right now in heaven
Toole Composes Lengthy Indictment
Against Neon Bible.
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It seems that just about everybody, at one time or another, hated Ike Turner (hell, even the Black Panthers once beat his ass onstage at the Oakland Civic Auditorium). Now dead at age 76, it seems pretty unlikely that the pop revisionists are gonna pull their heads out of their asses and set the record straight on who Ike Turner really was: an unparalleled, creative giant who elevated early 50s R&B primitivism to a sophisticated, soulful altitude few others could reach. Sure, he was a hot head, a hard head, a coke head, but Turner was also one of the key historic figures in American music, one whose achievements, both on the bandstand and in the recording studio, were quite unfairly diminished by a certain shrieking sister's pointed--and shrewdly self-serving -- character assassination.
From his start as a talent scout for Memphis tastemaker Sam Phillips' soon-to-be-Sun Phillips Recording Service, Turner was responsible for a string of killer-diller blues disks by the likes of Howlin' Wolf and Junior Parker and when he planted himself on the piano bench at those sessions, the results assumed a luminous, driving quality that always characterized the Turner musicality. There's also the little matter of the Ike-A&R'd Jackie Brenston "Rocket 88" and it's nominal designation as the first ever rock & roll record -- Turner had established himself as One for the Ages before anyone really knew who the hell he was.
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David Bazan
Spaceland, December 11, 2007
By Jonah Flicker
The most revealing moment of the man formerly known as Pedro the Lion’s intimate set at Spaceland came just before the end. During one of David Bazan’s question and answer periods, a longtime staple of his live show, someone requested that he play “Selling Advertising,” a song off his recent Fewer Moving Parts EP. He proceeded to calmly explain to the crowd that the song is meant to be a “fuck you” to Pitchfork’s editor-in-chief, Ryan Schreiber. Being a former Pitchfork contributor myself, I was tickled to hear him reveal the specific target of this scathing song. The moment was pure Bazan, and one of the many reasons why he’s maintained such a loyal following, from his many Pedro albums for Jade Tree to his current solo stint with Barsuk.
The beardos and indie-rock wallflowers in the audience nodded along attentively to every mournful power chord, every recounting of drinking to forget pain, and every moment of self doubt regarding his Christian faith. The latter is a key component of Bazan’s oeuvre (and one that he’s taken a drubbing for over the years), as is his slightly gravelly and powerfully emotive voice. His charmingly semi-nervous stage presence sprang up in between songs. But during his soaring indie anthems, comprised of peaks and valleys of emotion and dynamics, Bazan, armed only with an electric guitar and teeny-tiny tube amp, filled the room with quiet confidence. This was one of those rare occasions where a musician who you’re used to seeing with a full band goes it alone and you don’t miss drums and bass for a second.
In between Pedro the Lion songs like “Options” and brand-new tunes that will hopefully appear on his forthcoming album, Bazan took the time to answer questions about his favorite veggies (asparagus and spinach) and whether he plays Guitar Hero (he has too much shit to do to be bothered), as well as attempting to mediate between the striking writers and network executives. Well, on this last point, he actually threatened to kick the balls of any exec in the crowd. There didn’t seem to be much of a chance of that happening. But Bazan’s candid remarks and painfully intimate narratives, buttressed by his tuneful voice and ridiculous knack for melody, are what make his music so endearing.
--Jonah Flicker
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Even if you are a jewel thief, it is never wise to mess with a man whose name is Sgt. Larvell Jones.
5. Jay-Z ft. Nas-"Success"
These two. Thing is, this song shouldn't be this high on my Best Of list. Say these guys hadn't spent a decade trying to fuck each other's baby mama's, Sean Carter and Nasir Jones probably would've recorded at least a half-dozen songs better than "Success." But at least they finally managed to get it right. Granted, neither Jay nor Nas turns in their best performance, but just hearing two of the best rappers of their generation go at it on the same track is something special in its own right--particularly when backed by seraphic church organs angling towards the sky and slow regal drums. It doesn't matter that Jay-Z's does a lazy flip of an old Eminem verse. It doesn't matter that Nas tells people for the 34th time that he has the blood of a king (Hopefully, this one). It's still a success.
4. Ghostface Killah ft. Method Man and Raekwon-"Yolanda's House"
It's probably cliche by now to point out how much of Ghost's brilliance stems from his attention to detail. In theory, "Yolanda's House" has no right to be this great. Starks has written dozens of heist stories over the years, but somehow he's able to make each one unique, letting it breathe in its own distinct world of blood, smoke and banana nutraments.
On "Yolanda's House," Ironman's on the run from the cops again. His watch is cracked, his Nikes are scuffed, his body is scratched from fleeing through bushes and backyards . He's tired, out of breath, stoned. The sirens wail behind him. His heart bulges out of his chest, paranoid thoughts dart through his dazed mind. He thinks about quitting slanging, but knows he can't. He needs the money. Out of options, he yells to God to strike him if he doesn't like him. But of course, God likes him. It's Ghostface after all. He's the honest man living outside the law.
Miraculously, he ducks into a safe house, explains his situation, and convinces a sympathetic woman to cook him fries, fish sticks and biscuits, all while still applying her lipstick. Satiated, belly fat, he slices open a blunt and stuffs it full of weed. They smoke. One thing leads to another, Ghost is about get some "head wop" and more, when suddenly, the hiss and static of walkie talkies bleeds through the thin project walls. The cops are rumbling up the stairwell. Frantically, Ghost ducks into the next room, hiding behind a wall, spying Method Man, about to fuck the fish-stick cooker's sister. Raw. And all this happens in just one minute.
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Barack Obama at Gibson Amphitheater
Tool at Nokia Theatre.
By Ryan Colditz
I saw a show no one else will ever see. Senator Barack Obama opening for Tool.
Barack Obama made a visit to Universal Amphitheater Monday night, greeted by a largely young crowd, rowdy and anxious to see the man who has plans for what to do with this country. While many important issues were discussed throughout the evening, Obama got the crowd roaring when his shout out to USC nearly started a war of its own with rival UCLA. What better way for the Bruins to get past a tough loss than to ralley for a man who has a plan to get us all back to the top. The supporters who gathered from all across the nation were just as inspiring as the speech given, as the crowd grew more and more engaged and passionate with every word. What I heard throughout the night was one example after another about how the USA can once again become a world power. A place other countries look for strength and leadership. For most, this event would have been a enough to digest for one night, but not me. The night was young and I had to get moving. Fast. I was off to see Tool.
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Led Zeppelin/A Tribute to Ahmet Ertegun
O2 Arena, London, December 10
By Steve Baltin
As was the case for so many people, Led Zeppelin began my ascent into rock ‘n’ roll worship. Being a kid in the late ‘70s trying to impress my older friends and the perfect girl, my first album purchase was The Song Remains the Same. With that I would forever worship at the altar of the Mighty Zep.
Hence, when the news came down that Robert Plant, Jimmy Page, John Paul Jones, and Bonham’s son Jason would reunite for one show under the name Led Zeppelin, I, like over a million other people, cast my luck in an online lottery to try and recapture that youth. Months later I was on my way to a London so rife with Zeppelin mania that cabs were painted with the band’s name and album cover of the new greatest hits, Mothership.
Opening and Good Times, Bad Times, London, 12/10
And though Zeppelin is unassailably the most mythical band in rock history, the 20,000 people from 50 different countries -- some who’d spent life savings, one who sold a truck to pay for the trip, and another who paid $170,000 for a pair of tickets through a charity auction -- who descended on London to see the legendary band’s first full show in 28 years were there more because of their own mythology with the band. In fact, all that mattered was Zeppelin was playing, not how they played.
Nearly three decades removed their previous full show and with all of them, save Jason, being in or near their 60s, no one really expected the Led Zeppelin that shattered attendance records around the world in the ‘70. Well, except maybe Led Zeppelin. Plant has said repeatedly prior to the gig, an homage to late Atlantic Records founder Ahmet Ertegun, the point was to do one more great show after reunions like Live Aid, which they felt were sub par.
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KROQ’s Almost Acoustic Christmas, Gibson Amphitheater, 12/8
by Randall Roberts
December 11, 2007 12:00 PM
KROQ’s Almost Acoustic Christmas, Gibson Amphitheater, December 8,
featuring Linkin Park, Bad Religion, Serj Tankian, Angels & Airwaves, Avenged Sevenfold, Rise Against and Paramore
By Mikael Wood
Get this: People still love Linkin Park.
Sure, the band’s latest album, Minutes to Midnight, debuted at number one back in May. And, yeah, their Projekt Revolution tour did brisk business this summer.
Photos by Timothy Norris
But speaking as someone who admires much about Minutes — a Rick Rubin-assisted effort as defined by art-pop texture as radio-rock bombast — I’d sort of developed the sense lately that though they’d obviously managed to outlive the nü-metal boom that launched them toward superstardom, the Linkin lugs no longer inspired the full-on adoration they once commanded from arena stages around the world.
I was wrong. Headlining the first night of KROQ’s Almost Acoustic Christmas at the Gibson Amphitheatre last Saturday night, Linkin Park whipped the crowd into a frenzy that actually redeemed a cliché like “whipped the crowd into a frenzy.” And they didn’t do it by relying solely on old hits such as “Numb” and “Somewhere I Belong” (though those certainly didn’t hurt); they also drew huge cheers with relatively cerebral Minutes material, including “Leave Out All the Rest” and “Hands Held High,” the latter of which featured a cute kids choir. Grouse all you want about their predilection for sentimental whine-and-cheese, but the band seemed to give a shit about their performance—not at all a given on the year-end radio-show scene.
Serj Tankian:
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The film that ended the Cold War.
9. Hi-Tek Ft. Talib Kweli & Dion-"Time"
"People get caught up in a time and what that song represents to them at the time they hear it. Nothing I'm gonna do after that is going to match up to that time period, because they can't get that back. So I have to realize that when I make music, that time is never gonna be back to them-Talib Kweli
In 2001, I saw Talib Kweli five times and each performance he seemed grow closer and closer to greatness. There was a fierce hunger in his eyes then, he was young and eager, rapping in breathless machine-gun bursts as though he was trying to break out of the underground one syllable at a time. He had a restless quality to him, moving with intensity and focus, as though he if he stopped paying attention for a single moment, one of his thoughts would escape from him and never return.
But then something happened. Quality came out and it was solid but uninspiring. A step back not forward. Time lunged forward. By the time Beautiful Struggle came out, it it felt like how I imagine hipsters will feel in five years when realize that they spent two wears in the late 00's rocking mustaches and stove-pipe hats. It didn't help that the album was terrible. Every track seemed to come with a corny, and massive R&B hook. Not even touching the fact, that Beautiful Struggle single "I Try" was pretty much the exact same song as "Get By." Kweli was played out like keg stands and gravity bong rips. Things things that I used to fuck with regularly but never expected to include in my post-collegiate life.
Then I heard, "Time," easily the best track off of Hi-Tek's recently released Hi-Teknology album. Instantly, I fell back a half-dozen years, with the requisite flood of memories: old mix tapes made, Reflection Eternal as the soundtrack at some drunken party spilling into a gray morning, stoned nocturnal car rides through the lazy hills of northeast LA. Hi-Tek's beat is godlike, a celestial burst of stoned soul, Kweli's raps meld perfectly, with the sort of duo only great duos have. These two need each other, like Pete Rock and CL Smooth or Premier and Guru. In the meantime, Talib Kweli might never mean as much to me as he did six years ago, but you know what, I'm okay with liking him again. It's time.
8. Bishop Lamont ft. Phat Kat & Elzhi-"Goatit"
Download:
MP3: Bishop Lamont ft. Phat Kat & Elzhi-"Goatit"
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Above: Avenged Sevenfold
Above and below: Paramore cracks it open!
Above and below: Serj Tankian
Rise Against rocked it! Gave props to Naked Raygun Show.
Below: Avenged Sevenfold
Below: Bad Religion
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The dates are the festival official, April 25-27, but little else is.
And are there any bands from the 80s and 90s left to reunite/headline for Cocahella anyway? Apparently we're now dipping into side-project bands re-grouping as headliners, as the Breeders are being talked about to play the Polo Fields next year.
A new album, called Mountain Battles, will be out April 8, according to their MySpace page. Kim & Kelly are both in the band. And it'll be on 4AD. It's like the past dozen years never even happened.
On a vaguely related note, former Coachella-reuniters Bauhaus (class of '05) completed a new album, called Going Away White only to announce a split almost immediately. The album will see the light of night March 4th. The three members of the band who aren't Peter Murphy are on the line-up for the Joe Strummer Tribute show at the Key Club Dec. 22. So watch this space for the "Love & Rockets Reunite at Coachella" news in the coming months.
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Naked Raygun
Knitting Factory, Dec. 7
"Anyone ever tell you you look like Steve Albini?"
"We were just talking about Albini! Did you know that he re-recorded Cheap Trick's album In Color back in '99 or something - when he was working with them on a new album?"
"No! That's my favorite Cheap Trick album!"
"Do you have the shirt with the black and white flag of Chicago on the front?"
"No man. That was this year's Riot Fest shirt. You had to be there to get that."
These are some of the very Midwest-centric conversation snippets overheard at the other big reunion show that happened Friday night, a land where Cheap Trick still walk the earth as gods, Pegboy is big enough to get its own tribute album (on sale tonight at the merch booth), and talk of old punk shows in Chicago are divided between having taken place at the Exit's old location on Wells or their "new" location, since 1994, on North Avenue.
Naked Raygun never got to play the new Exit. After six albums, they broke up in late 90 or 91, still very much a local cult. But after their out of print Homestead albums got re-issued on Touch & Go, the label it seems like they should have always been on in the first place, their tuneful brand of punk seems to have filtered through to at least a few hundred punk kids willing to overlook the fact that this music is as old as they are.
It's surprising how many young kids fill the mosh pit at the Knit tonight. Some are dressed in absolutely ridiculous costumes, like a Halloween get-up of Sid Vicious or another deluded child with shaved head, white shirt and thin red suspenders. But a lot more just bounce around on the floor and balcony singing along with every song, just as familiar with the Regan-era lyrics as Jeff Pezzati is at the mic, if not more so.
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Fans started lining up early to get to their seats! Some arrived at 5. Skaters stopped in to check out the chicks. And lots of limos. Group of girls made the trek from the O.C. with their parents (all six of them) for the show.
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Lollapalooza in a Living Room
Nightwatchman and Friends
Hotel Cafe, Dec. 6
Photos and Text by Scott Amateur
Tom Morello, A.K.A. The Nightwatchman hosted the second of three consecutive Thursday Night benefit shows at the Hotel Café. The proceeds of the performances benefit his non-profit organization Axis of Justice. For what Morello calls “the people's price of only ten dollars,” the audience got to witness a concert so amazing they will bore their grandchildren talking about it in 50 years.
Morello began the show with a set of combative folk music as The Nightwatchman that hearkens back to Woody Guthrie's defiant lyrics admonishing the hypocrisy of the Bush/Cheney regime. He encouraged the audience to stop by the Axis of Justice table in the lobby to pick up pamphlets for some of their upcoming events and to make donations to the organization. Axis of Justice was also raffling posters signed by all of the evening’s performers.
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Mental Note: Avoid guys with the nickname "Mad Dog."
14. Redman-"Blow Treez"
Why did we have to wait until 2007 for Redman, the man who taught a generation of impressionable youths how to roll a blunt, to sample Bob Marley, the greatest blunt roller of them all? Flipping the halcyon palm-tree sway of "Sun is Shining" from 1978's Kaya, Reggie Noble enlists Method Man and whoever the fuck Ready Roc is to create the stoner anthem of the year. It's a bit reductive to tell you to bump this from a booming system stoned on an impossibly sunny spring day, but hey, sometimes that's just the way things were intended.
13. Kanye West-"Everything I Am"
Let's talk, Common. I can live with the Gap ads. I can even handle the weirdness of the B.F.F. relationship with Ari Gold, but something's gone terribly awry when you pass up a beat like this It's simple but soulful, twinkling piano keys, somber Southern Baptist wails, and soft trembling drums. Stir some Premier scratches directly into its heart and you get arguably the best beat on Graduation. Kanye does it justice too, rattling off a litany of his flaws, spazzing out at Awards shows, not being as black as one of the dudes in Blackstreet (?). It reads a little calculating but plays as one of the few humanizing touches that manage to make Graduation endearing in spite of its arena-sized ego.
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If you are the kind of person that actually pays attention to this kind of thing, then
here's a full list of this year's Grammy nominees .
Yes, Amy Winehouse got a ton of nominations, if she can hold it together until the awards area announced. Kanye West got eight, and we can only hope he gets shut out just to watch him freak. Feist got some too, and if she wins, she'd better thank Apple.
The always daring and edgy "Best Alternative Album" field included Arcade Fire, Lily Allen, Bjork, The Shins and The White Stripes
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This list has very little to do with Back to the Future II. However, I am writing it from the inside of a Delorean.
19. Pete Rock ft. Styles P & Sheek Louch-"914"
Released by Nature Sounds in January as the single from Pete Rock' s still shelved New York's Finest record, "914" has inevitably become a hit among rich kids in Westchester County, stoked that Yonkers and Scarsdale share an area code. Despite capable verses from Styles P and Sheek Louch (or as they're commonly known in Black Hebrew Circles: A Side of Lox), Rock owns the track without saying a word, with a beat full of filthy drums, muffled horns, and the grimy New York