June 2008 Archives
As we reported on Friday, the beloved Arthur Magazine issued a panicked email late last week announcing its need to raise $20,000 by July 1 to pay its creditors and keep the enterprise afloat. Well, according to their site, the tally as of Monday morning is at $20,929.00. We're trying to get a hold of Arthur editor Jay Babcock to find out more info, and will let you know what's up when we hear back. For now, enjoy a video from Arthur cover models Sparks.
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This Weekend: The Mae Shi, Fleet Foxes, T.A.M.I. Show at Cinespia
by Randall Roberts
June 27, 2008 2:54 PM
Tonight at Sugar in Silverlake, the Mae Shi play at the Spectrum art opening (see below).
The Fleet Foxes, of Seattle, bring their harmonies to the Echo on Saturday and Spaceland on Sunday. Also check out my interview with singer Robin Pecknold in this week's print edition.
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Photos and text by Timothy Norris
Or as it's known among some in the know: The 2008 Cuervo Black US Air Guitar Tour, Presented By TouchTunes.
Fans are lined up early. It only happens once a year in Los Angeles and US Air Guitar is back at the Troubadour.
Contestants get the run down and then chose numbers out of the hat for their time slot. Last years winner, Rockness Monster, gets to choose his position. He chose 19 of 20.
Damn right the chops are real!
Holy Shit! The Caplickster brings the fire, and makes the final round.
Prinz Of Belle Air flying high in the final round.
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The estimable Arthur Magazine, the free-thinking the LA -based music and culture publication that returned from the dead last fall, sent out a call for help yesterday, via its editor/owner/publishter Jay Babcock. It read, in part:
One year ago I ran up my credit cards and borrowed money from friends and family in order to buy out my ex-partner in Arthur. Since then I have maxed out my personal and business credit cards to service that debt and to start up publication of Arthur again. We have worked very hard with very little resources: some of us could afford to work pro bono, others could afford to work at well below market, still others couldn’t afford to work for Arthur but did it anyway.Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)
Tonight at the Troubadour: US Air Guitar Championships Regionals
by Randall Roberts
June 26, 2008 2:32 PM
You wannabes think it's so easy: take off your pants, put on an AC/DC song, smoke some dope and then just start wailing on an Angus Young solo. Silly amateur. You have no fucking idea what you're doing. You strum, and you finger, and you grimace. But you have no style. You know who has style? Angus Motherfucking Young of AC/DC.
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Robert Plant/Alison Krauss, Sharon Little,
the Greek Theater, June 24.
By John Payne
Photos by Timothy Norris
It wasn’t all that strange when Led Zep’s iconic hip-swiveler Robert Plant chose to do the duo thing with bluegrass-country diva Alison Krauss. Their musical connections make easy sense, first of all – Plant’s Celtic roots and Krauss’ in Appalachian music were long ago tightly intertwined, and obviously form the basis for much American popular song. And Plant’s a notorious student of roots Americana, which formed the building blocks of Led Zep and much of his solo material. The way I hear it, Plant is the one who sought out a meeting with Krauss, with the idea of collaboration. Whatever the case, it was an inspired and, as it turns out, quite resonant notion, as their recent duo album, Raising Sand, and performance at the Greek Theater demonstrated.
Backed by a five-piece band that included several legends of the Americana scene, including guitarists Buddy Miller and T-Bone Burnett, Plant and Krauss paced their set slowly, deliberately, with a pervasive emphasis on a ‘50s twangy moodiness on several tunes, heightened by drummer Jay Bellerose’s alternately low-boiling and explosive percussive work. The vocal duets on the first song, “Rich Woman,” from Raising Sand, hinted that Plant’s voice would dominate Krauss’ – a puzzling thought, since Plant is a very thin-toned singer – but subsequent songs and solo turns by Krauss showed that she can more than hold her own in the vocal stakes, and is, technically at least, certainly far superior to Plant.
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Starbucks Learns Bitter Lesson About Music. (Coffee Also Still Bitter)
by Mark Mauer
June 25, 2008 11:04 AM
Sonic Youth Powerless to Blend Over-Priced Coffee with Lame CD Compilations for the Masses
Yet another supposed savior of the recorded music business has spectacularly failed, not that it was ever a very good bet to begin with. Starbucks, which had ramped up their Hear Music imprint to sell CDs, sign big name artists, and even even let customers custom-burn CDs in stores - along with their custom-burned coffee beans (man, that joke never gets old), will ditch music sales by September, according to CNet.
The idea was that there was a mythical "disenfranchised consumer" who didn't know where to buy CDs anymore, Tom Corson of RCA told the New York Times in March.
Well, to be sure you'd be hard pressed in most towns with a Starbucks to find a place that sold a decent selection of CDs, but it turned out that the people inside Starbucks really just wanted a foamy, whip-cream topped, caramel-infused coffee milkshake. A new Alanis Morissette CD or yet another lame compilation of "Blues Rock", eh, not so much. I guess there just aren't enough surviving Beatles for Starbucks in-house label, Hear Music, to sign to keep it afloat.
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The troubled major label drops another shoe on a Tuesday, according to The Velvet Rope. More cuts tomorrow at Virgin and Caroline Capitol, says the music biz forum's (unverified) source. (via The Daily Swarm)
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If you don't already know by now, Beck has a new album coming out on July 8 called Modern Guilt. In a carefully crafted rollout, the little one with the big hats has dropped a few songs at a time to calm the obsessives. Three have found their way to iLike. They're streams, but they sound okay.
The best of the them, or at least the biggest departure, is "Chemtrails," which draws from the well of both the Beach Boys and Love to create this weird, harmonic, psychedelic pop (not that Beck hasn't found inspiration there before). Produced by Danger Mouse, it bodes well.
Oh, and in case you haven't heard it before, here's Ricardo Villalobos' awesome remix of Beck's "Cellphone's Dead," from The Information.
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The Weekend Report: Widespread Panic, The Orpheum, Friday, June 20
by LA Weekly
June 23, 2008 7:51 AM
Widespread Panic, the Orpheum Theatre, June 20
By Jeff Weiss
(photos by Timothy Norris)
Sometimes, I think music critics hate jam bands for the jokes. After all, on that endless litany of items capable of inspiring comedic rancor, nothing is easier to mock than hippies, save for maybe George Bush, nu-Metal and/or Coldplay. It doesn’t exactly help matters either when the moment that you park in the lot next door to the Orpheum, you’re treated to the spectacle of a group of the heady set inhaling enough nitrous oxide to keep the dentists of Southern California in stock for the next six months.
Click here for more of Timothy Norris' photos from the show.
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Nico the Beast's "No Beast So Fierce" And The Power of the Plain White Tee
by Jeff Weiss
June 20, 2008 4:00 PM
Odds are on any given day you can catch Nico the Beast rocking plain white tees. They're his uniform of choice. Not because he's trying to sell some D-boy image to get that Plies money.* but rather because they symbolize what Nico reps: a sort of basic no-frills, rock-ribbed fundamental rap. Or in sports terms, think him as the classic, blue-collar lunch-pail, PJ Brown-type, always hustling (no Rick Ross), willing to put his head down, take charges, board hard and lock-down scorers.
A few people sniped at Nico for dissing Lil Wayne on his "Dey Know" freestyle a few weeks back. I understood where the sentiment was coming from. It's easy to label any attack on the rapper du jour as being sour grapes, considering the salvo came from an independent rapper very much on the grind. Yet the diss seemed logical to me, the natural polarization that exists between two opposites. Indeed, few people on earth are more diametrically opposed than Nico and Weezy, the former's knuckle-nosed, blue-collar sobriety, the very antithesis of Wayne's self-aggrandizing swagger and candy-colored flash. Unlike the man who boasted he's so high that he's eating stars, Nico's a drug-eschewing, happily married father of two young daughters, a family man with an almost tribal sense of loyalty that he's unafraid to flash on wax ("Sunshine," "Loving You a Lifetime," "Be A Man.")
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Weekend Music: Wolf Eyes, Megapuss, RZA, Bostich + Fussible, and More
by Randall Roberts
June 20, 2008 1:37 PM
FRIDAY, JUNE 21
Devendra wears his mega-dick and plays in Megapuss. Crazy.
If you don't know by now, Megapuss is the side project Devendra Banhart (sorry, but if he's ballsy enough to put those glasses on in front of paparazzi, we're kind of compelled to use the photo). He's playing a secret show tonight at the Not To Be Reproduced gallery in Hollywood. For information on location, check their website, or call 323-472-7000. Oh, and set time is expected to be around 9PM. The band's debut is finished, and due to hit later in the year.
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BIRTH! and Jellowaste on Hollywood Blvd. 6/19/08
By Liz Ohanesian
photos by Liz Ohanesian
At just after 10 p.m. last night, the first wave of summer tourists were still filtering through Hollywood and Highland, stopping every few steps to take a picture with Spiderman or the twin Marilyn Monroes, pausing occasionally to offer polite applause for a drummer or saxophone player.
BIRTH! and Jellowaste, two L.A.-based one-man bands, set up in the middle of the hubbub, plugging a laptop and air of amps into Jellowaste’s car battery. There were no microphones this time, as experience had taught them that in this setting and with that setup, mics will distort until ears begin to bleed. Instead, they shouted over electronic jolts that overpowered the poor souls attempting to walk from the subway exit to the bus stop.
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That's some nice 80s style, cold war, nuclear apocalypse, punk rock, Repo Man, Reagan hatin', flyer work right there.
And Saccharine Trust to boot! It's like SST never went away!
Of course Very Be Careful doesn't sound much like an early 80s LA punk band, but they're well worth seeing:
Tonight at Cafe Mariposa with Level 99
And one that's already come and gone:
which was part of this little gem:
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10 Possible Things That May Have “Happened To That Boy” Judging from the Clipse & Birdman Song of the Same Title
by Jeff Weiss
June 19, 2008 4:00 PM
10. After noticing a spare copy of Pigeon Racer Digest: the Thinking Person's Journal of Racing Pigeons in the Hot Boys' trailer,* "that boy" decided to join the American Racing Pigeon Union and make a go of it in the wide world of ornithology.
9. Decided to leave Magnolia because hanging out with Baby during his "bird-calling" phase soon became unbearable. Like it was the funny and cool the first few dozen times but soon it got really old. Like Austin Powers jokes old. Eventually, this also led to B.G.'s decision to leave Cash Money.
Who Else Would Be Willing To Employ The Sporty Thievez?
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Rilo Kiley, with Benji Hughes and Lavender Diamond, the Greek Theatre, June 18, 2008
By Chris Martins
Photos by Timothy Norris
Rilo Kiley can be a touchy band for discerning denizens of this city. The oft-exaggerated Hollywood ties (“a band full of child actors!”), the early jump to a successful indie label specifically associated with another city’s scene (Omaha’s Saddle Creek, of course), the subsequent leap to Warner Brothers (“sellouts!”), and the nervous conjecture -- stemming from so many solo projects and the not-so-secret former love affair of the band’s founding pair -- that the group is forcing it somehow. All told, it paints a confusing portrait. Are they a local band? Were they ever? After five weeks on the road touring 2007’s exceptional Under The Blacklight, Rilo Kiley came home to The Greek.
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Music Sales Sink to 1985 Levels. Did 1985 Really Suck or Something?
by Mark Mauer
June 18, 2008 3:00 PM
Sure, the papers are full of stories of gas prices shooting up and housing prices plummeting, but those are new phenomena compared to the steady declines in the fortunes of the record industry. The latest sales numbers show a decrease of 11% over last year - and that includes legal digital downloads.
1.86 billion albums (calculated at 10 songs per album), sold last year, which is the lowest number since 1985. Why that year? CDs were still new - and relatively expensive - and were just starting to catch on with consumers. LPs were on the way out and while the portability of cassettes was great, the quality and durability was pretty awful.
So where's all that extra money going? Video game sales for 2007 were $42 billion compared to $11.5 billion for music sales.
And what was rocking the Top 40 station of 1985 (back when there were actual Top 40 stations, and Casey Kasem ruled the world with an iron fist)?
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If you're a fan of Montreal art pop band Islands, who floored us twice this spring at various festivals, you may want to take a half day today, or at least take a long lunch in Santa Monica. The band, who are touring in support of their newly released Arm's Way, are playing at 1 p.m. today at the Apple Store at the Third Street Promenade (a rare instance of rock action on the west side). Which, you know, would be cool and everything, we guess -- though, really, a little odd to see a band in the hyper-clean Apple atmosphere. The Counting Crows did a similar gig at The Grove a few months back. We didn't go. It's hard for us to imagine anyone really letting loose at an Apple Store. Since we're in Hollywood this morning, a journey west will have to wait.
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Tom Waits, Orpheum Theater, Phoenix, Arizona, June 17.
By Peter Gilstrap
And so it was that Tom waits came to Phoenix after a three-decade absence on the first night of the American leg of his Glitter and Doom tour, an expedition that will take him to such exotic ports o’ call as El Paso, Tulsa, and Mobile. But, for L.A.-based fans, the Valley of the Sun was as close as Waits was going to get.
Hard to say how many Angelenos were in attendance at the stately Orpheum Theater, but the sold-out crowd of vocal, rambunctious devotees got their money’s worth. Taking a stage decorated with a variety of junkyard civil defense horns, Waits, clad in a bowler hat and dark suit, launched into a stark, bumpy version of “Lucinda,” raising plumes of dust with each stamp of his oversized boots that would have done Herman Munster proud.
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Tonight at Cinefamily at the Silent Movie Theatre: Dublab Goes Dark
by Randall Roberts
June 17, 2008 2:20 PM
This should be fantastic tonight: installment five of Dublab After Dark, an ongoing visual extension of the aurally amazing Dublab collective. They explain what will happen tonight better than we could: "The web radio super station your ears love also loves your eyes. This fifth in dublab’s screening series is bursting at the spectacular seams with unseen music videos, documentaries, comedy clips, out-there animation, short films and eye melting magic! The Labrats have lined up a soundtrack DJ session for the intermission and some other super surprises. So turn off grainy, old youtube and come experience this wide array action in all its awesome, sensory-bursting glory."
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Lil Wayne at the House of Blues, June 16, 2008
All photos by Timothy Norris
How did this little dude with a mouthful of gold and a head full of rhymes become the biggest music industry story of the year? With his cartoon good looks -- glistening gold teeth too big for his mouth, dreadlocks too long for his frame, pants too droopy for his ass and those little bullet-hole eyes too tiny for the face (and perpetually hidden behind sunglasses) -- Dwayne Michael Carter Jr. has the posture of a superhero and the frame of a juiced-up Sammy Davis Jr. He stands up there and you think one of two things: either, 'What, is this guy kidding?' or, "I'm pretty sure he's getting ready to suicide bomb us." He's an extreme figure, and the skin that's equal parts pigment and ink literally paints him as a circus freak.
Last night Lil Wayne dropped in on the House of Blues to give a buzzing, packed-to-the-rafters crowd a serious talking to. The lecture topic? Getting paid, getting nookie, getting fucked (up) and getting even. And if this really were the blues, Wayne would be more John Lee Hooker than Muddy Waters, someone whose menace simmers rather than explodes, someone whose stories are haunting and whose eyes burn through stone. On this night, Wayne tore through snippets from his entire oeuvre (dude's got the attention span of a gnat ) while a posse of 50 stood behind him and nodded.
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After 30 Years, The Runaways' Cherie Currie Buries the Hatchet with Kim Fowley
by Lina Lecaro
June 17, 2008 1:28 AM
Documented in both the Rodney Bingenheimer bio-pic Mayor of the Sunset Strip and former Runaways bassist Vicky Tischler-Blue’s rock doc about the seminal LA punkettes called Edgeplay (not to mention countless print interviews over the years) the feud between the man who helped create them, Kim Fowley and front-person Cherie Currie has included accusations of abuse, exploitation and downright evil doings.
So when the two unexpectedly came face to face last Friday at a bash in the Hollywood Hills right before our eyes, we almost ran for cover and waited for the (Cherry) bomb to drop. Shockingly, there was no need, as Currie warmly reached out to the statuesque, face-paint-sporting songwriter/Svengali with a hug “for the first time in decades,” and apologized to him for her past rancor, blaming it on her years as “a drunk.” Fowley glanced our way as to make sure we recognized the significance of the moment, but there was no need. We’ve interviewed both over the years and were very much aware of their treacherous relationship.
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Bonnaroo Crowd Says F*ck You Mister West and Your Awesome Awesomeness
by Mark Mauer
June 16, 2008 4:51 PM
For the dirt on Kayne's five in the morning show and why that didn't go down too well with the kids, let's check in with Sean Maloney at the Nashville Scene.
Early word in the press tent was that Kanye West disappointed the 'Roo crew with an untimely, five-o-clock-in-the-fucking-morning set. Rumors were rampant: The patchouli-and-devil-stick contingent were pretty sure that Kanye had conspired to cut Phil Lesh's set short, and the pinkos were convinced that he was chilling with Obama. But more likely than not it just took a while to set up that crazy stage.Whatever the reason, he played almost two-and-half hours after his already rescheduled slot, and the kids were pissed. But he's Kanye, and he gets to do whatever he wants.
Get the whole Bonnaroo recap here.
Raconteurs at Bonnaroo:
Photo by Mark Austin. Read on for more.
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Crystal Antlers, Pity Party and Imaad Wasif at Little Radio's Summercamp
by Mark Mauer
June 16, 2008 4:19 PM
All photos by Timothy Norris
Little Radio kicked off their first Summercamp Saturday of 2008 with a pool party, DJs, plenty of Colt 45 and live set by these guys:
Crystal Antlers
Imaad Wasif
The PIty Party:
And loads of pool frolicking...
Many more photos bikinis, dudes and debauchery here. And read on for details on next week's Little Radio show.
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The Weekend Report: The Petrojvic Blasting Company at the Hollywood Farmers Market
by Randall Roberts
June 16, 2008 8:21 AM
Ah, music. It arrives from out of the mist, or from Hell below, or from passing cars bumping the beats, or from Muzak kicking Phil Collins' "In the Air" at Ralph's. It just keeps coming, and to limit our appreciation of the live scene in LA only to the clubs would be to ignore the plethora of street musicians kicking so much indie-rock ass. To wit, yesterday as I was walking up Selma toward the Sunday morning farmers market at Ivar and Cahuenga, I heard the sound of a kick drum. Now, usually the only sound you can hear is that of the bongos from the dreadlocked dude who's there every week. As I approached, a trombone, the unsung hero of the brass family, made itself known, and it soon coupled with a well-played accordion (meaning the player was both fingering the bottons as he depressed they keys). This was something different, courtesy of Joshen Petrojvic (right) and Jatosh, who doubled on the kick and snare drums (with his feet). Check out their site, Albania Mania, pronto, and sorry for the quality of this. I shot it on my BlackBerry.
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Sunset Junction Schedule: Black Keys, Broken Social Scene, Antibalas, !!!
by Mark Mauer
June 13, 2008 5:41 PM
Ahh, Sunset Junction. Leather daddies and 100 degree heat. Crappy carnival rides and an ever-increasing admission price that pisses off the locals. Still it's usually prettygood music. Here's this year's line-up:
They've posted the schedule at their site and it's got some good stuff.
Entrance, Langhorn Slim, Menomena, Health, Henry Clay People...
The big guns on the soul side: Isaac Hayes, Jeffrey Osborne, Billy Paul and Stefanie Mills.
And on the rock side: Cold War Kids, Antibalas, Kinky, !!!, Black Keys. Nice.
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New EMI VP to bank on the awesome power of Rush to revitalize the music industry in the 21st century
Once upon a time the people who ran record labels were quite simply music freaks. They were producers like Ahmet Ertegun at Atlantic, tastemakers like Tony Wilson at Factory, or musicians like Ian McKaye at Dischord.
The list of things that have gone wrong with the music industry is a mile long, and it didn't start or end with downloading.
But just take a look at this blog post from Cory Ondrejka, co-creator of Second Life, who has been hired as EMI's senior vice-president of digital strategy. (This is an actual screen grab of his blog which is at http://ondrejka.blogspot.com)
Where the hell do we start with what's wrong here....
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Weiss Muxtapes #7 and #8: I Can't Live Without My (Internet) Radio
by Jeff Weiss
June 13, 2008 12:29 AM
Have you ever read this blog and wondered to yourself, hmm...this Jeff Weiss fellow has some self-righteous and ill-founded opinions, is it possible that he may be in the wrong medium? One would hope. Yet despite my repeated attempts to turn these misguided ideals into a viable run for the GOP nominee for President, John McCain's sallow sun-spot scarred skin and rock-ribbed Roosevelt Republicanism robbed me of a spot at the head of the ticket. Instead, I will be forced to utilize my personality flaws the best remaining way possible: talk radio.
Accordingly, I will be the special guest this afternoon on Little Radio's most entertaining show, Sinking with Sylvia and Todd. (sorry Bronson and Drunkard, when you guys invite me on your shows, then maybe you'll receive a similar distinction). Seeing as though Sinking has never played a hip-hop song in its entire existence (probably), I have decided to use my guest appearance to exclusively spin rap music, and turn off their inevitably indie-centric listenership. (I mean this isn't Shade 45.) The show runs from 12-2:00 pst and can be heard by clicking here.
If you can't tune in, I've compiled a pair of Muxtapes with songs that I may play this afternoon. There is newer stuff that didn't make the tapes, mainly because I've already posted them on previous installments. And yes, if you were wondering, "I Got A Man" is included. Obviously. Track-listings after the jump.
Passion of the Weiss Muxtape #7- "I Can't Live Without My Internet Radio" Part 1
Passion of the Weiss Muxtape #8-"I Can't Live Without My Internet Radio" Part 2
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Islands are playing the Henry Fonda next Tuesday. As your faithful attorney, I recommend that you attend. Their recent Arm's Way is one of the year's finest records and they put on a fantastic show. Plus, the last time I saw them play in LA, for their encore they decided to light Roman Candles on Wilshire Blvd.
Are you referring to that Pitchfork review? [the interview took place the day after the review ran]. It seemed unnecessarily harsh and just off-base.
Yeah, it seemed a little vindictive. The Internet is a great leveler and it’s supposed to be a place where everyone can weigh in but what I don’t like about Pitchfork is that it’s this hegemonic, monolithic take on music criticism. But whatever, half those guys are like Harvard business school graduates. They’re not musicians, they have no real understanding of what we’re doing.
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"Ready Steve? Andy? Mick? All right fellas, LET'S GO!"
If there was ever a band that deserved to revel in some heady nostalgia-glow, it's the Sweet. Tons of great songs, style, and at least one tune that will last as long as music itself.
Apparently there are two groups called The Sweet on tour (I think Gallagher used to do the same thing). Original bassist Steve Priest helms the version playing tonight, who was with the band from their inception until they split in '81. Here's why you should try your damnest to get tickets:
Fox on the Run
Sweet Willie
Love Is Like Oxygen
Co-Co
And yes, yes, yes of course this one which will outlive us all:
Sweet singer Brian Connolly died in 1997 and Mick Tucker died in 2002. So this isn't exactly the original foursome together, but it's a chance to hear a couple album's worth of great songs, which is a fine way to spend a Thursday night.
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By Ryan Leach
Nick Sanderson, former drummer of Clock DVA and the Gun Club, passed away on Monday (June 9) of lung cancer. He was 47.
(Photo: Sanderson with Kid Congo Powers)
Born in England, Sanderson’s initial break came with his membership to Sheffield-based industrial band Clock DVA in 1983. Along with bassist Dean Dennis, Sanderson formed the rhythm section heard on the group’s major label debut, Advantage. After leaving Clock DVA in 1984, Sanderson (and Dennis) found work through (now-defunct) Statik Records, backing up ex-Gun Club figurehead Jeffrey Lee Pierce. Already a few months into a fledgling solo career, Pierce struck up an instant friendship with Sanderson; the two were huge history buffs and no strangers to enormous bar tabs. After a painfully long tour of the United States in the summer of 1985 (“It was Reagan’s time in America,” I remember Sanderson telling me in a phone interview, “and it was absolutely dreadful.”), Jeffrey Pierce decided to reform the Gun Club.
The Gun Club, "A House is not a Home" with Nick Sanderson
More after the jump.
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Sevens the Key Number Here. Think About It. Seven Doors. Seven-Eleven. Seven Little Chipmunks Twirling on a Ranch, Eatin' Lots of Sunflowers on my Uncle's Ranch. Seven. (Pt. 1)
by Jeff Weiss
June 11, 2008 4:00 PM
I really don't do the Meme thing, but seeing as though it's the illustrious Alfred Soto doing the asking, how can I possibly I say no? Per the Lord.
“List seven songs you are into right now. No matter what the genre, whether they have words, or even if they’re not any good, but they must be songs you’re really enjoying now, shaping your spring. Post these instructions in your blog along with your 7 songs. Then tag 7 other people to see what they’re listening to.”
The Kills-"The Tape Song"
That fucking drum machine. And that sultry, purred whisper at the start. The hisses targeted towards you: "ya' got to." I still don't know what I've got to do. Jump off a cliff on a uni-cycle? Go wind-surfing with John Kerry? Whatever it is is fine, I'm not going to argue. Tape ain't going to fix it. It ain't maternalistic advice VV is offering. There is no salve. No broken bones to patch. Like Warren Zevon once averred: your shit's fucked up.
Then "Tape Song" explodes into chorus with raw, flesh-eating violence. VV howls "you need to go steal ahead." It sounds like she's telling you to go steal a head. Presumably, for her, because she seems totally fucking crazy. It's one of her finest qualities. "Time doesn't give a shit about you...honey," she sneers with contempt cradled inside her sneer. This is The Kills' version of blues, played by a duo who confused Siouxsie Sioux for Robert Johnson. Music free of inhibition. Whiskey-warped, hair-pulling, dirty noise. Why is this on my songs of Spring you ask? Not because I've seen Boomerang or Bound one too many times, but because it's my favorite song on one of the year's best albums, one released the first week of Spring in perfect time to remind us that just as everything was about to go light, there remained a need for the dark.
My Morning Jacket-"Touch Me I'm Going To Scream, Part II
In April, I attended the EMP conference in Seattle. I didn't mention it on the blog because I figured y'all weren't concerned with hearing about a bunch of stodgy (and some not-so stodgy) speeches from music critics and academics and moreover, I didn't have all that much to relay because I ended up meeting someone up there and decided to blow off 75 percent of the conference. It happens.
Since I avoid talking about my personal life on here lest I turn into this girl, I'll refrain from saying much more beyond the fact that at a time when my already stellar sense of cynicism seemed to be keeping pace with the price of a barrel of oil, the weekend restored a cautious sense of hope. Leaving town, suddenly all alone in a strange city, the memory that lingers is walking through downtown Seattle on a wet, gray afternoon with this song on an sad, ecstatic loop. James' heavenly wail drizzling down, the moody keyboards washing over the mess of rain and tall buildings, "Touch Me Pt. 2" floating along in its damaged ethereal haze. Out of the thousands of songs in my iPod, at that moment, I couldn't have imagined another one being more perfect.
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Billy Bragg,
El Rey, June 10, 2008
Photos by Timothy Norris
When Billy Bragg takes the stage in front of the surprisingly packed crowd at the El Rey, he seems ready for business and launches into a couple early gems: "This Guitar Says Sorry," with a slashingly brutal Bo Diddley rhythm and its devastating couplet, "The time that it takes to make a baby, Can be the time it takes to make a cup of tea."
He follows it up with "The Warmest Room" from 1986's Talking With the Taxman About Poetry. Bragg's alone on stage in a light blue shirt with a sliver guitar and a couple of amps. No drums, no band, nothing adorning the stage. His voice sounds strong, with no less passion or anger than when he started singing it more than twenty years ago. That's got to be a hard thing to do when you've watched the paths the politicians have guided us down over the past decade.
But it's clear Bragg's optimistic, excited and energized by the crowd, his new work and maybe even what might happen in America later this year.
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Everloving Records, On a Roll with Don Cavalli and Herman Dune, Delivers New Inara George & Van Dyke Parks Record
by Randall Roberts
June 10, 2008 1:41 PM
With the first tones of Don Cavalli’s Cryland, put out on the mighty Everloving Records out of Los Feliz, arrive questions. Among them: Was this CD made in 2008 or 1948? Is this Cavalli guy black or white? Is he from the north or south? Hell, is he even American? It’s a mystery, this music. It’s pretty clear that he listened to a lot of Slim Harpo in his life, and some Mississippi John Hurt. There’s blues, some pre-rock & roll action, some dance numbers. And the cover, by French designer So Me, who’s best known for his work with Kanye West, Justice and the Ed Banger crew, is an illustration in bold primary colors. It jumps off the page.
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Beck at the Echo, June 9.
Photos and text by Jeff Miller
At this point, it's a foregone conclusion: when a Beck tour's on the horizon, he'll invariably test out his band at some small club on the Eastside, braying through new material and old-school classics while taking his lucky (but pretending-to-be-disinterested) audience on an unexpected sonic exploration or two. A few months ago, it happened at a career-spanning, obscurity-revelling experimentathon at the Echoplex, but last night at the Echo was all about Beck getting back to basics, casting aside the obscure instruments (Mellotron!) and picking up a guitar to '90s-rock his way into the not-quite-packed audience's heart.
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Hey, if you're near a train station and feel like doing a little jerk-dancing after work, hop on down to the Central Courtyard at Hollywood & Highland and see a free show by Brooklyn's Santogold. Her breakout performance at this year's Coachella was as funky as it was fun, and we can't get enough of her backing dancers. Her big first single, "L.E.S. Artistes," is only the tip of the iceberg. It's gonna be a Santo-summer. And, as a reminder, might we refresh you on the original NYC post-disco diva, Grace Jones?
Santogold?
Or Grace Jones?
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James,
Spaceland, June 6, 2008
By Siran Babayan
Well, dye my eyes and call me a reborn James fan. Apparently the Manchester folky pop band has had a more profound impact on some of the people here at Spaceland than they did on me back when I casually listened to them in college. Hours before James (reunited in the past year after a 2001 breakup) took the stage for a surprise semi-acoustic show announced only a day earlier on KCRW, I overhear two women in the restroom talking about another woman who “raised her kids on James.” And sitting next to me during the entirety of the evening, a very sweet, doting and drunk girl from Newhall tells me she’s not only been following the band around since 1991, but named her daughter Madison James. She also ran her fingers through my hair and spat water clear across the club half-way through the show after simultaneously drinking and coughing. (How do the words on “Sit Down” go?: “Those who find themselves ridiculous/Sit down next me.”) “They saved my life,” she says repeatedly. I can see why.
Looking like a less sinister Anton LaVey, newly bald and goatee-d singer Tim Booth cast a spell on the capacity crowd with a set (half from the Brian Eno-produced Laid, the other from the forthcoming new album, Hey Ma) that was uplifting, life-affirming and spiritual. I wouldn’t want to get near this guy while he’s dancing, though. Booth, still skinner than the mike stand with belted pants barely hanging on, likes to sway and then shake himself into convulsions; think Davey Jones-meets-Dead-Head-on-acid-trip. “Look at me Tim!” drunk girl yells.
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Photos by Rena Kosnett.
Los Angeles' own country heroes, I See Hawks In L.A., celebrated the release of their 4th album, Hallowed Ground, at the Echo. The Chapin Sisters proclaimed their love for I See Hawks by singing a few numbers with the quartet before the guests of honor wrastled the mic. The first number that vocalist Rob Waller sang, "Yolo Country Airport," had the opening lyrics: "Well I'm drunk, I'm stoned, and I'm tired." Of course I immediately thought, "Me too!" That's the nice thing about I See Hawks--they make you feel right at home. Couples were swirling around the floor, grinning from ear to ear and two-stepping their hearts out. And their senior superfans were right up front, singing along to all the lyrics of the NEW songs! Awesome. If anyone lives in Los Angeles, is a fan of country music, and hasn't yet discovered I See Hawks In L.A., now is the time. They are a county treasure, keeping up the spirit of Gram Parsons and Dillard & Clark.
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Target Video screens a 2-hour compilation video at MOCA's Geffen Contemporary, as part of the CineMOCA festival.
Photos by Rena Kosnett.
Blood brothers: Germs drummer Don Bolles and the night's music programmer, Henry Rollins.
The turn-out for the Target Video screening was solid, mostly 30 and 40 somethings fanning the flame of the old mohawk spirit, but there were younger curious people as well, many of whom, when asked, had never heard of Target Video. The Gun Club portions of the screening were what really captured my attention, as Jeffrey Lee Pierce's haunting wail has always occupied a chamber in my heart; but I couldn't shake the distraction of the odd setting. On one end there was a film playing highlighting 1980s punk kids and their battle to tape up homemade flyers, and on the other end was an Infiniti for sale.
And an Infiniti salesman.
Talkin' shop.
Not to mention $8 Heinekens, and $6 hot dogs. And the chips? I think they were $2.50. Punk rock.
A confusing mixture of endorsements. Hypocritical? Perhaps. Oxymoronic? Maybe. But it definitely sucked all of what was left of the revolutionary appeal of those Target videos right out. Why hold a screening to pay