Live in L.A. Archives
South,
The Echo, May 15, 2008
Photos by Timothy Norris
Once upon a time, near the dawn of this decade, James Lavelle's Mo'Wax label ruled the record store import bins. Blackalicious, DJ Shadow, and UNKLE 12" singles in elaborate packaging fetched tidy sums for their three long, similar-sounding remixes.
Though it might be hard to place them as part of that scene now, South was indeed a member of the Mo'Wax family, with a debut album, Overused, produced by Lavelle himself. In 2006, on the unfortunately titled Adventures in the Underground Journey to the Stars, South stripped away most of the electronica elements and cast their lot with the trusty guitar/drums approach.
In theory, it should have worked wonders. In reality, they're eight years and five albums in, and playing to only a couple hundred people tonight. So something didn't go exactly right somewhere.
Tonight, live, I want to like them more. I do like them. And they've managed to bring out dozens of cute girls from two camps: Those who remember their song featured in The O.C. and the die-hards who remember them featured regularly in NME and Melody Maker. Last week at the Elbow show, Timothy Norris wondered, "Why aren't they bigger than they are?" The same could be asked about South, with whom Elbow once toured the U.S. when both had bigger buzz. I'd change it up to read, "Why aren't South at least as big as Elbow?"
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Metallica and Scars on Broadway Unload at Benefit for Silverlake Conservatory of Music
by LA Weekly
May 15, 2008 9:14 AM
Metallica / Scars on Broadway: Benefit for Silverlake Conservatory of Music
The Wiltern, May 14.
By Paul Rogers
Metallica, with Flea, at last night's benefit, simultaneously filling their diapers.
There’s an irony to a benefit show for a school that aims to make music more accessible charging $200 for tickets. Yet this fund-raiser for the nonprofit Silverlake Conservatory of Music succeeded as a graphic, almost shocking, reminder of the medium’s powers of catharsis and communion.
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The Duke Spirit, Ohhlas
Troubadour, May 10, 2008
By Timothy Norris
Liela Moss of The Duke Spirit at the Troubadour. The band's new album, Neptune is out now. More after the jump.
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Elbow, Air Traffic
Avalon, May 9, 2008
Photos and words by Timothy Norris
Shortly before Elbow took the stage Friday night for the final show of their latest North American tour, someone asked me, “Why aren’t Elbow bigger than they are?” I've got no good answer for that. Although I'm a relatively recent fan to their music (beginning with 2005’s Leaders of The Free World), there's little doubt that Elbow's music is anything but top notch on a number of levels.
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The Silver Daggers were on the bill to play at the Part Time Punks' Third Anniversary show Sunday night. This is what they did for 20 minutes instead (a few of them--not all members were present):
At least if you're going to do nothing, make it interesting- see: John Cage; Kevin Smith; Andy Kaufman. This was essentially a big "fuck you" to the audience (i.e. me), to which I might say "fuck you" right back, except I'm not really that angry. I'm just kind of irritated that I wasted two passes of deodorant on going out. Those in the 21+ set who pay to see shows on weekday nights generally have stuff to do the next day, like work, and are sacrificing sleep to hear good live music and/or have a good time. This was neither.
I get what they were trying to do, really I do--that's why I think it's lame. Silver Daggers used to be a good band... now they are officially the band that made my non-existent cock go limp for 6 hours.
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Tapes ‘n Tapes
The Troubadour, May 8, 2008
By Jonah Flicker
Photos by Timothy Norris
About halfway through the first night of Minnesota’s Tapes ‘n Tapes two-night stint at the Troubadour, somebody in the audience yelled out, “Another waltz!” Though this sounds like the snarky, modern-day equivalent of calling for “Freebird” at a Sebadoh show, it’s actually not an unreasonable request. After all, it seems like half of the incredibly catchy indie rock songs singer/guitarist Josh Grier and company churn out are in 6/8 time. But that’s not the only trick up their collective sleeve.
Click here for more photos of Timothy Norris' Tapes 'n Tapes and White Denim at the Troubadour.
Tapes’ latest album, Walk it Off, sounds like it was mastered through a Big Muff pedal, perhaps due to the recruitment of producer Dave Fridmann (Sleater Kinney’s The Woods, Flaming Lips). In a live setting, this effect was amplified, as guitar, bass, drums, and keys practically buried Grier’s engaging warble beneath layers of warm, fuzzy, crunchy distortion.
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Ben Harper, Jackson Browne
Claremont Folk Festival, Sycamore School
May 3, 2008
Photos and Text by Ryan Colditz
Nestled neatly inside the Inland Empire is Claremont, an unassuming, quaint city with a "small town" feel. But there's much more to Claremont than clean streets and a great record store (The remaining Rhino store). The Claremont Folk Festival, now in its 28th year, is an annual celebration of folk music and community spirit at its finest.
Held at Sycamore Elementary School, which prides itself on liberal education, encouraging students to think for themselves, and to be curious about the world around them. After a full day of folk and eco-friendly events, everyone joined on the grassy playground to watch Jackson Browne, Ben Harper and Taj Mahal perform under the stars.
(Jackson Browne. No really! It's Jackson Browne!)
The perfect fusion of folk rock, funk, jazz and soul filled the air throughout the 3-hour show. Jackson Browne opened the evening with a beautifully easy-going and eclectic set, which included several stories about himself and Ben Harper, as well as other tales he picked up along the way including one about a friend buying a guitar from Ben. Everyone on stage was friends with each other and as Ben said, "I have known each of these guys for all my life - most of my life - or for over 15 years." This show was not just about music, but encouraging a different philosophy on life, a genuine love for all that is good and envisioning a future that is peaceful and safe for everyone.
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Akron/Family, The Dodos,
Natural History Museum First Fridays
May 2, 2008
By Mark Mauer
For the past couple of years, one of the best venues in town to see excellent live music has been the Natural History Museum. The Submarines, Plaid, Deerhoof, Matmos and others have played sets in the NHM's "Large Mammal" over the past year or so with the backdrop of bears, wolves and walruses.
It pains me to say that I'm afraid that First Fridays have jumped the oarfish.
(Oarfish image from here. The NHM has an excellent specimen caught off of Catalina Island in 2006, but my camera broke before i could get a picture of it.)
Like some of the coolest things in LA, the First Fridays event got too popular, too crowded, and now it's more of a hassle than it is fun (See the mess that the movie showings at Hollywood Forever have turned into).
The Dodos meet the buffaloes.
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Stone Temple Pilots
Jimmy Kimmel Live, May 1
By Ryan Colditz
"One time a thing occurred to me
What's real, and what's for sale?
Blew a kiss and tried to take it home"
The opening lines of "Vasoline" during Stone Temple Pilots' first public show since 2002 on Jimmy Kimmel Live! put the entire experience in perspective. I have been told that STP is back. I see them on stage, playing songs that I have listened to thousands of times, and even play in video games. These are iconic songs of my generation. I've been looking forward to this show for a long time. We stood in front of the stage patiently waiting for our turn to be the chosen few, lucky enough to see STP reunite. Surely this was bound to be an amazing night. I could see it in my head, it was going to be awesome.
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She & Him
The Vista Theatre, 4/28/08
By Jonah Flicker
At 7pm, there was already a long line winding around the corner outside the Vista Theatre in Los Feliz, eager fans waiting to see She & Him perform. It soon became clear that there was some sort of delay, as 7:30 came and went and the doors remained closed. The only sensible course of action seemed to be cocktails, a surefire, age-old method of passing the time. Margaritas at the newly renovated El Chavo turned into fruity, neon-colored concoctions at Good Luck Bar, (The Tiki Ti was sadly closed). By 8:30, it seemed wise to leave the bar and secure a seat in the theater, but I’ll be damned if the line wasn’t even longer. Fortunately, the powers-that-be decided to open the floodgates shortly thereafter, and the crowd slowly trickled inside.
I had my doubts, but a concert at the Vista turns out to be a pretty good idea. The comfortable-for-a-movie-theater seating was filled with an extremely polite crowd and the smell of popcorn happens to be a very pleasant odor to enjoy music too. Lavender Diamond opened the show. Their beatific chamber-folk was surprisingly good, but I’m just not feeling singer Becky Starks’ little girl act. Her voice rings out true and clear when she sings, but, during her stage banter, her cutesy quirk felt put on and unnecessary.
(No photography allowed, so here's a clip of She & Him at SXSW a few weeks ago.)
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I can’t freakin' wait until Yeasayer come back to Los Angeles. I feel itchy knowing that last Friday's show at the Ukranian Culture Center on Melrose was their only L.A. engagement.
Yeasayer is one band that requires you to hold your impressions until you’ve seen their live performance. As interesting as the single “2080” is for the dooming lyrics and the ethereal use of chant-like synthesized vocals, it can seem a little Ren-fair. And that’s totally why many people like it; it’s the Peter-Gabriel-trying-to-perform-like-David-Byrne throwback. Also, during the song “Sunrise,” I just can’t stop thinking of Traffic’s “Low Spark of High Heeled Boys.” The music could easily slip into the realm of, well, dorky. Compared to their oft-likened kindred spirits TV On The Radio, “Final Path” makes Yeasayer seem like TVOTR’s extremely smart, pimply, Magic: The Gathering little cousin.
But Yeasayer were crowned Ukranian Kings Friday night in that crazy (and really cool) hall, for two reasons. 1) the keyboardist and lead singer, Chris Keating, is a gifted performer, and confident as hell. His face and body contort under the dense pressure of their music and lyrics, almost to the point where he looks pained. It’s hypnotizing. If he hadn't been as entrancing, the live show would've been completely different. And 2) I haven’t seen such an stupendous light display feat since I was 12 years old and went to the observatory to watch the Pink Floyd laserium show. Straight out of Big Brother and the Holding Company. When I saw A Place to Bury Strangers powering through their “Ocean” finale a few months ago, I didn’t want to bob my head or blink because I was afraid of missing something. During Yeasayer, I may as well have been dipped in carbon freeze.
Yeasayer. Go see them. Go to the ends of the earth if you need to. Their music would be perfect along the way.
Groovy. Photos by Rena Kosnett
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Nekromantix / FreakShow Deluxe
LA Convention Center
April 25, 2008
Could there be a less spooky place for the Nekromantix to play? Even late at night, walking through the parking structure of the Convention Center, through the huge empty hallways, there isn't a bit of menace to the place. You have to feel kind of bad for the band and all of the people who came out to see them in their Halloween-y best, only to end up in a room that probably recently served as the conference room for a convention of time-share salesmen.
While following the sound of some circus music, I did pass a row of the Coffin Girls just coming off of their fashion show. My camera was packed away, so, click the link if you want to see 'em for yourself.
Once in the ballroom, I made a beeline for the cordoned-off beer corner, which was inconveniently placed as far as possible from the stage, as if getting a beer too close to the stage could cause some terrible tragedy.
(View from the beer corner.)
Who knew the Nekromantix were a family show? yet quite a few kids milled around with their cool, punk/goth/rocker parents.
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Photos from the Calvin Harris show, Wednesday night, at the Henry Fonda Theater by Timothy Norris
More after the jump. All photos by Timothy Norris
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These days there’s every reason to be skeptical of a reunion concert. After the breakup we watch our heroes get older, buy their post-Great-Band solo projects with worried hearts and minds, certain that they have peaked and that nothing they do could capture the magic of the Grand Statement of Purpose they delivered when we were all young and in love.
photo courtesy of NME
And we’re usually right because that thing that was special about the band, say, for example, Jane’s Addiction, mostly exists in our head, in our memory of when they, like us, were younger, more beautiful and in better shape. They gave us their music, and we accepted it. It’s a memory of energy transfer, of constructing a conduit between musician and listener, and pouring music, beautiful music, through it.
Like the aging process itself, that conduit tends to shrink over time, and during reunion concerts only a smidgen of the former energy is able to squeeze through (okay, this metaphor is getting gross). It’s not the same. But last night at the El Rey, Jane’s Addiction totally tapped into whatever that was they once had, and shut us snobby-ass skeptics the hell up. Boom, like they’d been rehearsing for years, they kicked into “Stop” and the four original members, for the first time in 17 years, played their music together, and it was really great.
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Kanye West with Rihanna and N.E.R.D., April 21, Nokia Theatre L.A. Live
If you're going see Kanye West's second of two shows at the Nokia tonight, you should bone up on the narrative, because like all big ticket stage spectacles – Cats, Stomp, “Oh, Streetcar!” – there’s kinda sorta a half-assed storyline which ties all the stuff together. So: We’re on a deserted planet with a shipwrecked man, who we first see sprawled out on stage. A big computer screen drops from the ceiling. The Hal-like monotone voice of an omniscient narrator, Jane, greets us and explains something about the universe being in danger and there being only one hope. That hope is (who else?) Kanye West.
photos by Randall Roberts (sorry, Kanye's peeps didn't allow professional photographers to shoot, so you got me and a cell camera)
Yes, like Sun Ra, David Bowie, Kool Keith, Funkadelic, and Electric Light Orchestra before him, Kanye West is in outer space, the 21st century version of which is very high tech and features jumbo screen backdrops that project different settings (Mars-like surfaces, flying through galaxies, moving through robotic corridors, etc.). West as spaceman pumps through his jams in front of these settings, and between songs to add a little weirdness and indulge West in his fantasy of being Superhero of the Universe, Jane drops down from the ceiling and says things like “You’re the brightest star in the universe,” and “You’re our only hope.” She told us when the shooting stars were unable to continue powering the spaceship, and advised our hero to step it up a notch when necessary.
Not that he needed much prompting. It was just him, and he worked it. Except for a brief Lupe Fiasco appearance near the end, West was alone onstage the entire night, and were it not for a brief, awkward moment at the show’s close when he tried (but failed) to shine the house lights on his backing band (which he had hidden behind the projection screen) I would have left thinking that West had played to a backing track.
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Photos by Timothy Norris
Puppet show! Cool! Why don't more bands have interesting opening acts like this, I thought, as The Cinnamon Roll Gang set up shop behind a tall orange curtain between Patrick Park and Sara Lov's sets.
The answer to my question came pretty quickly. Painfully loud, I saw more people jam fingers in their ears than I've seen at any Atari Teenage Riot show, and the volume wasn't redeemed by anything resembling jokes, unless the screaming puppets were drowning out all the laughter.
Well into the third hour of the puppet show, or so it seemed, some guy at the bar began pelting the puppets with wadded up napkins. This had little effect on the puppets, who were in the middle of a fight scene that lasted as long as Rowdy Roddy Piper's marathon smackdown in John Carpenter's They Live.
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Photos by Rena Kosnett
Claiming that I just happened to catch a Portishead concert during my recent visit to the UK would fashion me a liar. The trip was pretty much planned AROUND the Portishead show in Edinburgh. I probably wouldn't have gone up to Scotland at all if not for the concert; so for that reason, I thank Geoff and Beth and their booking agent. Scotland was gorgeous and friendly and aside from one little incident involving a chemical plant and my camera, which, through no fault of my own, almost got me branded a terrorist, everything there is glorious. Even the policemen are foxy and nice.
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Stewart Copeland, Slash, Flea, Pete Yorn, Perry Farrell, Dave Navarro, Travis Barker, Steve Vai, Cypress Hill and more come out for Tom Morello at The Troubadour
Tom Morello’s Hotel Café jam sessions have been kick-yourself-for-missing-them spectacles boasting off-the-wall superstar musical line-ups (Flea, Alanis Morissette, Ben Harper, Mick Mars), but for the kickoff of his seven city “Justice Tour” last night at the Troubadour, he set out to outdo them all, and he did.
From left, Perry Farrell, Steve Vai (back), Slash, Flea and Stewart Copeland
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Photos by Timothy Norris.
Text by Ryan Colditz
Eddie Vedder is taking it solo. Pearl Jam has broken up and all that is left is Eddie Vedder. Just kidding. REALLY.
In fact, Pearl Jam are touring this summer with shows announced on the east coast and there are rumors of a return to L.A. in July or August. Until then, Ed put together a short theater tour to support the soundtrack he wrote for buddy Sean Penn's movie, Into the Wild. Vedder made his way through the LA area first with a show in Santa Barbara at Arlington Theater on Thursday, followed by a weekend stay in Los Angeles at the Wiltern Theater.
Not your typical Pearl Jam rock show, a majority of the set-list came from the movie soundtrack, while some Pearl Jam b-sides and classic rock covers mixed in to create an electrifying energy that built in intensity all night. It is clear many people did not get the memo about the concert format before buying their $70 ticket. Repeatedly hounded by ridiculous requests for songs like "Blood" and "I love you, Eddie!" screams (which usually resembled that of a drunk 40-year-old man), Vedder gave an outstanding performance despite the attention whores. On top of everything, friends joined him on stage to take the show to the next level including Ben Harper, Liam Finn and Jack Irons.
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Xiu Xiu
The Echo, April 11
It was good to see lots and lots of kids out at the Echo this past Friday night for Xiu Xiu’s LA appearance, the same kids that probably listen to way too much Indie 103 and have way too may band friends on MySpace. You see, Jamie Stewart’s long-running musical project traffics in jacked dance music, severely art-damaged indie rock, and deconstructed post-punk. In other words, the kids at tonight’s show are showing a bit of musical bravery and yearning for something outside the norm just by being here. Good for the kids.
The last time I saw Xiu Xiu perform, it was just Stewart and his cousin/bandmate Caralee McElroy up on stage, a backing of programmed beats supporting their guitars and minimal percussion. Tonight’s full band lineup was good, but felt a bit chaotic and untethered in comparison. Stewart seemed slightly annoyed by the soundman’s inability to match the settings they had worked out prior to the show as well, and he politely but pointedly asked for more whatever in the monitors, “like we had it at soundcheck,” more than once. The stage was full of various percussive instruments and cymbals from around the world, which McElroy and Stewart banged on in between flaring guitar chords and intimate accordion keystrokes. Charmingly misplaced synth swells washed out over quieter songs, while noisy numbers instigated tinnitus in the crowd packing the hot venue.
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The Gutter Twins, Great Northern
Avalon, April 2
It's raining in Los Angeles. Twice I slip on the slick Hollywood Walk of Fame in my terribly-unsuited-for-rain Chuck Taylors, trying to make my way to the Avalon. It's perfect though; it should be raining for a Gutter Twins show, even in L.A. It was raining when John Albert met up with Mark Lanegan and Greg Dulli for his article on them in last week's LA Weekly.
(Mark Lanegan gets expressive. Photos by Timothy Norris)
The crowd's in various stages of damp, drying with drinks stronger and warmer than the usual bottles of Corona. My friend Ryan is drinking whiskey, which is certainly
the appropriate choice for an evening watching the raspy voiced pair of Dulli and Lanegan. "Someday a real rain will come and wash all this scum off the streets," Dulli says between songs, quoting Taxi Driver.
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Black Keys, Jay Reatard
The Wiltern, April 1
By Jonah Flicker
We’ll get to the white-boy blues-rock in just a sec, but first we have a very serious matter to discuss: the awesomeness of Jay Reatard. I have had his most recent release, Blood Visions, playing on repeat for the past few months, and I arrived at tonight’s concert armed with the conviction that the opening act would upset the headliner. I was right. Jay and his band (guitar, bass, drums, done and done) goosed the Wiltern with their reincarnated-Ramones punk rock, a trio of Comic Book Guys completely unconcerned with cool – I mean, dude’s drummer looks like Bruce Vilanch.
The polish of his recorded sound may have been removed from the equation, but Jay’s prepubescent punk fury, augmented by V-shaped guitars, long hair, and tight jeans, more than made up for it. The barrage of songs literally left almost no room to breathe, as Reatard and company launched into one tune as soon as the previous one ended – but that’s the way it fucking should be. Stage banter is awkward, annoying, and overrated unless you’re really good at it. Jay is now signed to Matador, so expect to hear a lot more from him real soon.
All photos by Timothy Norris
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Neil Hamburger
Spaceland, March 30
Walking on stage cradling three drinks in his arms, Neil Hamburger makes his first impression on the audience by spilling them slowly onto his own tuxedo while setting up his notes on the monitors in front of him. Much of the booze in his glasses ends up soaked into his jacket and shoes over the next 45 minutes, while Hamburger unleashes his tirades against celebrities, alternative musicians, the audience, and Jesus Christ.
"WHY?!" he screams at the start of a joke, "Did Robert Redford stick his penis into a jar of Paul Newman's spaghetti sauce?" The punchlines are often less important than the set-ups. It's the question that gets the most laughs. After several months of semi-regular Sunday shows at Spaceland, the audience is familar with Hamburger's M.O.: Offensive jokes, told in a seemingly bad delivery (his timing is actually excellent), mixed with audience abuse and self-directed bitterness about life.
"Why did Academy Award nominated actor Heath Ledger call Mary-Kate Olsen as he was dying?" The mention of Ledger's name was one of the few things that the audience seemed to recoil from. A collective soft spot for Ledger was clearly present. "It's ok," Hamburger consoled them, "Heath Ledger is in hell now. Nothing we do can hurt him."
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Jim White
Amoeba, March 24
Jim White's songs depend on a good deal of atmosphere, and no doubt when he plays tonight (Tuesday) at the Silent Movie Theater, the ghosts of the venue's decades of mute comedies and tragedies will do wonders for his music. You should go see him play there if you can.
Monday night at Amoeba however, the room just isn't working in his favor. Some degree of harshness finds its way into White's voice that seldom appears on his records, and it sounds a little unsettling. Produced by Joe Pernice and Mike Deming of the Pernice Brothers (who also excel at catchy, whispery pop) White's new album, Transnormal Skiperoo, contains another dozen stories of sad people, small victories, bigger defeats and a good dose of philosophical musings.
If the translation of the songs to the stage isn't firing on all cylinders tonight, his stories still are. Between songs, White tells the story of a good friend of his, the son of a preacher, who married the daughter of another preacher, and despite all of that connection to a higher power, or because of it, he eventually lost his mind. On lithium and other brain candy, the two go to New York to see the Regis & Kathie Lee show. His friend had dated Gifford, whose last name had been Epstein and White had once kissed her. White said the conversation between his sick, drugged friend and Kathie Lee Gifford was one of the most surreal things he'd ever experienced. No doubt.
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The Church of Glitter. Photos by Rena Kosnett.
For the rest of this review, body glitter = sweat. Iowa’s mainframe zaftig-white-female hip hop star, Leslie Hall, cleaned house at the Echoplex Friday night with her traveling circus act Leslie and the Lys. It looked like a neon fringe and gold lamè factory exploded all over Echo Park.
More than a musician, Leslie Hall is a movement, because Leslie could not do what she does (and she does it so well) at any other time than the present. She exists now as the result of a culture in whiplash from several pop commodity crashes: Suzanne Somers, Jazzercise, heroine-chic, daytime talk shows, the celebutante, Tony Robbins, and, of course, the Bedazzler.
Leslie rapped about being a Midwest Diva (she insists guys like to please those corn-fed girls in their WalMart jeans), killing zombies, and her ass, which she introduced with: “I’d like to sing a song about my butt cheeks. So round, so ripe.” I got the feeling that she wanted to be more sexually explicit than she was, as her hands kept creeping down from rubbing her gold covered belly to rubbing her gold covered groin; but, the good Midwestern girl she is, Leslie restrained herself, as there were several very young kids decked out in glitter and purple leggings at the show, holding up “We Love You Leslie” cardboard signs.
Many more pictures after the jump.
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Snoop Goes Country! Snoop Dogg Live at Fox Studios, March 6
by Randall Roberts
March 7, 2008 9:54 AM
photos by Timothy Norris
Snoop Dogg gigged with an 18-piece backing band in a Fox Studio sound room last night for the Nissan Live series shown on Yahoo! Music, and now that I’ve pimped the corporate affiliates that made this evening of taping possible, let’s just say right off the bat: I have seen the future of Snoop, and it is good.
He played (I think) five new songs from his upcoming Ego Trippin’, did a little bit of “Nothin' But a G Thang,” and threw down a scorching, unbelievably tight version of “Drop It Like It’s Hot” (imagine that percussive track writ large, with a dozen and a half live players!). Snoop goes electric.
And, in retrospect, the move makes perfect sense.
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Foo Fighters
The Forum, with Against Me!, Serj Tankian
March 5, 2008
Photos and text by Timothy Norris
What can be said about the Foo Fighters that hasn’t already been said? OK, I guess I could say that there is some kid out there that can now say that his/her first show they ever saw was a sold out Foo Fighters show at the Forum. My first show was also at the Forum. That’s right, I’m from the neighborhood. Though unlike a few of the members of Foo Fighters, I must admit that at first look my first show was definitely not as cool as some of those guys had it.
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photos by Timothy Norris (note: these photos are from Sunday's show, but the band set up identically on Monday)
The Magnetic Fields closed a two-night stint at the Fonda last night with a beautiful acoustic set of gems from the group's founder and songwriter, Stephin Merritt. The ever-acerbic Merritt, whose lyrics are as precise and well-crafted as a Shaker cabinet, gathered his longtime Magnetic Fields companions - left to right, vocalist Shirley Simms (vocals), Claudia Gonson (piano, vocals), John Woo (acoustic guitar), Sam Davol (cello) and Merritt - to perform soft versions from a few of Merritt's many projects, including the Sixths and Gothic Archies. Author Daniel Handler (aka Lemony Snicket), a regular Magnetic Field, played accordion, and told a great story about losing his notebook that day at a Starbucks, only to have Merritt's mother enter the same Starbucks, find it and return it.
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Spirit Army like bubbles. Photos by Rena Kosnett
If you were concerned about local dynamic duo Dante Adrian and Jeff Ehrenberg vanishing from the music circuit because Starlite Desperation decided to call it quits, feel free to un-furrow your brow. Their first L.A. show since garnering new bassist Laena Myers-Ionita, as well a new band name, Spirit Army, the tag team ripped through tracks off their upcoming full length, Take It Personally, Friday night at Spaceland with the talent that sustained Starlite Desperation’s reputation as stellar performers through numerous years, numerous releases, and numerous record labels: Adrian’s vocals and Ehrenberg’s drumming.
Constant as the Northern star, shaggy brunette Adrian will always strain his surprisingly strong and fluid vocal chords to their breaking point, and curly redhead Ehrenberg will always keep a beat while hamming it up—standing, swirling, throwing his sticks in the air, flashing hysterical facial expressions.
The new Spirit Army material is solid garage pop that balances Adrian’s graceful, almost feminine voice with Ehrenberg’s power percussion. There are already a few standout tracks just as stellar as SD songs “What I Want” and “Let It Burn”—particularly, their opener “Spirit Army” as well as “My Favorite Place” are insta-parties, jam-packed full of power chord fire and brimstone.
Myers-Ionita is definitely a member of the “Los Angeles Bass Vixen” club, but it took her a while to warm up—it didn’t seem like she started out the set with the same amount of confidence as her counterparts. That may be due to Adrian and Ehrenberg having so much previous experience as a creative force, or because it was only Spirit Army's second show together; but after ten minutes she was belting backup vocals and facing the audience with more enthusiasm.
Oh, and Ehrenberg has a new stage trick: bubbles.
Take It Personally will be released this summer on Ehrenberg’s label, Infrasonic.
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Grizzly Bear and the Los Angeles Philharmonic at Walt Disney Concert Hall, March 1
by Randall Roberts
March 3, 2008 3:45 PM
Grizzly Bear and the Los Angeles Philharmonic
Walt Disney Concert Hall
Saturday, March 1
photos by Timothy Norris
You knew Saturday night was turning magical when a roustabout in the audience at Walt Disney Concert Hall let out a yelp of glee during the LA Philharmonic's octane-fueled performance of Igor Stravinsky's “Firebird” suite. It was right after one of the peaks – I think it was during the Infernal Dance part, when the brass section collides with the strings like a tanker-truck hitting a freight train. The bellow, much deserved, poked a hole through the classical propriety, and, emboldened, the orchestra simmered into the beautiful lullaby of the fifth section like a barely lit ember.
The Phil, under the guidance of assistant director Joana Carneiro, moved through Benjamin Britten's "Four Sea Interludes from Peter Grimes" and Luigi Boccherini's Ritirata notturna di Madrid (Luciano Berio's 1975 kinda-sorta remix) with joyful ease. The three pieces, chosen in conference with Brooklyn band Grizzly Bear, showcased dynamics, moved from gentility and grace to chaotic release. 18446/
Grizzly Bear took the stage after brief intermission, and the room, which during the orchestral part was bathed in neutral light, turned black, as if the shades were suddenly drawn. For the rest of the evening, Disney Hall shifted from burgundy to gold and green and back again, painted the four handsome men of Grizzly Bear -- Daniel Rossen (voice/guitar), Ed Droste (voice/keyboards/guitar), Chris Taylor (bass/clarinet/flute/effects) and Christopher Bear (percussion) -- with a glisten, made them seem like they were lit up from the inside.
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Kids of Widney High,
Amoeba Records, Feb. 28, 2008
By now, I hope that most people reading this know who the Kids of Widney High are, so I'll only briefly mention their story for those who might have forgotten. They're a group of disabled students (or former students) from a Los Angeles special education high school that write and perform their own songs with the backing of teachers, and session musicians on instruments. The group's songs are funny, clever, sometimes even touching. Playing live, they also usually repeat the chorus a good ten times or so, but the songs are so catchy, it's not a big deal, and it encourages a lot of singing along from the audience.
No one mentioned how long the Kids of Widney High have been writing and performing songs, but 2008 marks 20 years since the program started, and the Kids' debut album came out in early 1989. Twenty years! Though they're known everywhere, they really are a California institution at this point, they've appeared on Kevin & Bean Christmas tapes, acted in a Johnny Knoxville movie, and played more shows at the Smell and Mr.T's Bowl than the average Echo Park indie band.
Tonight, seven of the Kids including Cain, Pee-Wee, Daniel, Shelley, Elisa, traded off lead vocals on a dozen or so songs, starting with a cover of "Respect," with lyrics that fit their situation a little closer than Aretha's. Tanesa not only sang, but translated a lot of the lyrics into sign language for the crowd of a couple hundred people. How often do you see a band do that?
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Liars
El Rey, Feb 22, 2008
By Jonah Flicker
Liars are a constantly shifting band, taking a new tack on dark post-punk, experiments in early industrial music, and tribal minimalism with each new record they release. Their debut effort, They Threw Us All in a Trench and Stuck a Monument on Top (Mute, 2002), indicated yet another band entrenched in the then nascent dance-punk movement, albeit with heavy shades of Suicide and Pigface thankfully mucking up the formula. Since then, they’ve opted for a more abstract vision with an emphasis on drums, drums, and more drums. The band’s recent self-titled effort does have a few more urgent and tightly-would rockers than on their past few releases, but it’s proof that Liars are able to satisfy their bizarrely creative instincts while still managing to wrangle popular and critical success.
All photos by Timothy Norris. More after the jump.
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Girl In A Coma
Knitting Factory, Feb. 21
By Scott Schultz
Girl in a Coma’s Thursday night set at the Knitting Factory demonstrated the growth the band has made over the last year of touring. The San Antonio threesome has been on the road nonstop in support of their Joan Jett-released debut disc, Both Before I’m Gone, including an opening spot on Morrissey’s fall tour. His influence is all over the band’s current sound. The band, who is named after a Smith’s song, actually sounds a lot more like The Moz now than they did a year ago.
Nina Diaz, whose voice resembles a Tex-Mex Patsy Cline has added some Morrissey mannerisms such as the dramatic, sustained vocals and yodels and the homage to their mentor complements the band’s sound nicely. At 19, Diaz, with her Texas twang, has one of the more distinctive voices in the indie scene, a punk rock torch singer, who also plays a mean guitar. Her bandmates, older sister Phanie D. on drums and Jenn Alva on bass, make a solid rhythm section, but all eyes are on Nina when she’s on the mic or the guitar.
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The Hives, Donnas
Wiltern, Feb. 19
Photos by Timothy Norris
It's been eight years since the Hives started telling us they were going to take over the world. Back in those heady days of early 00's, rock bands were back out of the garage and into the spotlight big-time, scoring bonus points if they were from Sweden. In a way, you have to feel a little bad that the Hives' plan of domination didn't work out like they said it would. Here we are, still loving Swedish bands, but it's the more modest ones like the Shout Out Louds and Peter, Bjorn and John. They're in danger of becoming dinosaurs, like the Tyrannosaurus Hives of their '04 album.
The Hives took the Wiltern's stage in darkness under a huge, red neon sign, while the creepy instrumental "A Stroll Through Hive Manor Corridors" played. The neon was the sole flash of color in their black and white set-up, that covered their clothes, guitars, even Chris Dangerous' white-painted drumsticks.
The crowd came alive in no time, a bit of a surprise, since the Donnas, who opened the show, couldn't seem to get much energy flowing in the room, despite their
best efforts. Songs from the Hives' latest, "Try It Again," and "You Dress Up for Armageddon" sounded stronger in the Wiltern than they do on the Black and White Album.
It helps that Howlin' Pelle Almqvist's energy seems limitless. He crossed the stage from one end to the other every ten seconds. He climbed a stack of amplifiers, made his way into the crowd ("If anyone finds my button, please return it to the lost and found, ok?") and made some impressive leaps in the air from the drum kit.
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Siouxsie Sioux, The Music Box at the Fonda, February 15
by Randall Roberts
February 16, 2008 9:39 AM
Siouxsie Sioux
The Music Box at the Fonda
February 15, 2008
By Steve Baltin
The calendar may have read as the day after Valentine’s Day, but inside the Music Box it was pure Halloweeny. Siouxsie Sioux was in town, and a thousand of her disciples, clad in black (of course), leather, top hats, and other celebratory attire came out to worship at her altar.
photos by Timothy Norris
As the front woman for her Banshees, Sioux is the queen of new wave and goth. In her 90-minute set it was easy to spot where followers like Bjork (in her movements) and Shirley Manson (her look, demeanor) have borrowed from Sioux. And like any music royalty, be it Dylan, Aretha, or Morrissey, Sioux had to do little more than take the stage to receive complete devotion from her legions. Well aware, she made her proper diva entrance on cue, clad in a shiny metallic silver and black futuristic ensemble, a moment after her four-piece backing band.
However, Sioux, who recently spoke in an interview about being most concerned with the now , is backing that up. After three decades, she’s just released her first solo album, Mantaray, to illustrious reviews; she brought that same vigor and wisdom to the Music Box. Dancing and interacting with the crowd from the outset, Sioux relied heavily on material from the new album, including some of the night’s finest moments, like the kiss-off song “Here Comes the Day,” the dance-flavored “About to Happen,” the rhythmic grind of “If it Doesn’t Kill You,” and the avant garde German cabaret of “Drone Zone.” And while she dipped into her past, to the delight of the crowd, for songs like “Dear Prudence,” the night’s highlights, was an impassioned closing version of Mantaray’s lead single “Into a Swan,” a song in which she declares, “I’m on the verge of an awakening/A new kind of strength for me.”
Bellowing “I burst out – I’m transformed” with the snarl that’s been her trademark since rising from Sex Pistols fandom to icon in her own right, Sioux made every person in the building believe those words.
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Black Lips,
El Rey, February 14
By Jonah Flicker
Reports of Black Lips’ onstage antics have apparently been greatly exaggerated. The Atlanta quartet, which released Good Bad Not Evil on Vice Records this past fall, is renowned for committing alleged acts of debauchery at live shows including, but not limited to, vomiting, making out, getting naked and small explosions (not necessarily in that order). Tonight, being Valentine’s Day and all, I expected, at the very least, the appearance of a penis or two or some kind of awkward physical or emotional boundary crossing. But the illicit behavior was limited to one member spitting in the air and catching it in his own mouth and a cryptic comment about a dick in John Wayne’s ass.
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Grupo Fantasma
Echoplex, Feb. 14
A musical question -- when was the last time you saw dueling trombones? Personally, I've seen dueling pianos in Memphis, dueling trumpets in New Orleans, dueling guitars at every single God-awful metal show I've ever been to. Trombones -- not so much. So when the Austin-based Latin-funk ensemble Grupo Fantasma took the Echoplex stage last night with two trombones in tow, I was intrigued. As it turns out, the actual band only has one trombonist, Leo Gauna, the other was just sitting in for a few songs. The songs he played on, though, were wonderful, with mystery trombinist and Gauna alternating and intertwining solos and providing some great exchanges -- both playing with the competitiveness of musicians who really know their instrument and want to show it to the other guy.