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Death Cab for Cutie to play secret show at Spaceland at 5 p.m. today
by Randall Roberts
April 29, 2008 4:17 PM
It's a KROQ show, so there's no chance of getting in at this point. But you never know. I'm on my way over there now, though with LA Weekly's recent move to the West Side, I'm hoping to get there by midnight. If the traffic gods are with me, I'll be there by 5:15.
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Photos by Rena Kosnett
Taking 4 late night buses from Camden down to Brockley, yelling at one stranger who sneezed into my hair, standing for 45 minutes in the rain with a sore throat, and staring helplessly at one of the worst public (drunken) fights I’ve ever seen, are all the unpleasantries I had to endure in order to get home after seeing Billy Childish play tonight. And I'd do it again..... well, I would pay £40 for a cab if I had to do it again, but I would definitely want to see Childish play a second time if given the opportunity.
I’ve been loving my trip to London, but the emphasis on pixilated music here has been drying my eardrums out; so bouncing around at this rough and tumble 60s garage rock palace in North Camden, the Boston Music Room’s Dirty Water Club, made me feel a little homesick. And when Childish and his new band, the Musicians of the British Empire, played the opening chords for The Who’s “A Quick One While He's Away,” I really teared up. Never mind that Childish was in the wrong key and had to start again. I actually enjoyed hearing the beginning exclamations “Bang, Bang, Bang, Bang” more than once.
Childish led his bass player Nurse Julie and his drummer Wolf Howard through garage rock classics (“Lie Detector”), as well as newer material (Nurse Julie sang a tune off their upcoming album that concerns her boyfriend’s adulterous mix tape making, aptly titled “He’s Making A Tape”), but what amazed me the most was Childish’s not one, but TWO a capella performances: Leadbetter’s version of “In The Pines” and Son House’s arrangement of “John the Revelator.” I was told, before making the trek up to Camden, that Childish’s live show has the tendency to disappoint—but I can’t imagine this to be true. After his 100 albums and perhaps as many artistic manifestos, Childish seems to be clearly at home while performing, heckling drunker members of the audience, muttering self-deprecating references to his guitar tuning, and offering a dose of dirty Thee Headcoats brand grit to offset the rest of London’s drum and bass campaign.
Los Angeles' Lily Marlene diggin Billy Childish at the Dirty Water Club
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On Wednesday morning, the subterranean temple that is the KCRW studio complex on the campus of Santa Monica College played host to a great six-song set by Grizzly Bear, of Brooklyn, New York. Broadcast live on Nic Harcourt's Morning Becomes Eclectic show, the set, which you can listen to on the station's fancy new online audio player, was beautiful.
A dozen or so lucky hangers-on and invitees (including former Defamer editor Mark Lisanti, enjoying his first full week away from the blogging ratrace) stood in the sound room and watched Grizzly Bear through a window like the foursome were subjects of some sort of sociology project; we observed their mannerisms, the way they moved around the room with their instruments, the way Ed Droste stood solidly, his back to the window, his mouth in front of the mic, crooning, “can't you feel the knife” during a haunting version of their amazing “Knife.” Daniel Rossen, who plays guitar but prefers not being called their “guitarist,” (read my interview with Rossen here), sang “Deep Blue Sea” the way he does it on Grizzly Bear's recent Friend EP: as a soft, emotional lament that pushes his falsetto around the register like a submarine through underwater canyons. The band is rounded out by Chris Taylor and Christopher Bear.
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If nothing else Obama's candidacy is at least inspiring people to make music. Alas, for the most part the songs haven't been very good. Will.i.am's mess of a song can't be saved by snippets of Scarlett Johansson, and the Daedalus track posted yesterday... Well, that's not going to sway any delegates.
So may I direct your attention to the MySpace page for Blacks in the White House www.myspace.com/blacksinthewhitehouse where you can buy "the most controversial song on MySpace for $3." But you can listen for free.
The track is "Blacks in the White House," the artist is Charle$ N.Charge - who is by the way a Fed - he works for the T.S.A. - and it's a damned good track. Give it a listen.
I'm sure there are plenty of Ron Paul songs out there too, but if there's funny pro-Hillary or Romney stuff out there that's better than what Rush plays, let me know. We like both kinds of music here: Country and Western.
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The analog pleasures of Radiohead's digital revolution
by Randall Roberts
(Photo by John Spinks)
There are a few different ways to get to Big Sur from Los Angeles, but in the big picture it doesn't matter which route you take, because regardless, you're leaving Los Angeles and going to Big Sur. You can take the I-5 superhighway, sure, but for a little Zen action, veer off to the Pacific Coast Highway. It's a slower cruise, less frantic, and it runs along the ocean through tiny, tony towns: the perfect route for when you need a reminder that, well, there are things in this world that you can actually feel, like a slap in the face or a sunburn, and the Web has yet to produce digital breeze or perfect seaside light. Follow PCH to the end of the earth, wend and wind by cliff and shore like the hero of an Audi commercial: sunroof open, beach and ocean on the left (replete with Frisbees and dogs and sparkling sunlight reflections), cliffs on the right, and smack-dab in the middle, a jumbo sound system in a late-model sedan and a 10-song burned CD, much ballyhooed but as yet virginal, awaiting its debut on the open road.
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Great news from the L.A. Phil just arrived. Anyone who was at the recent Songs of the City series at Walt Disney Concert Hall and heard Daniel Rossen's voice echo through the room will understand: Don't miss this show.
LOS ANGELES PHILHARMONIC AND INDIE ROCK BAND GRIZZLY BEAR CO-HEADLINE FOR ONE-NIGHT-ONLY PROGRAM SPANNING CLASSICAL TO CONTEMPORARY REPERTOIRE
SATURDAY, MARCH 1, 2008, AT 9PM
Media support provided by 89.9 KCRW
Brooklyn-based indie rock band Grizzly Bear debuts at Walt Disney Concert Hall on Saturday, March 1, at 9 p.m. The Los Angeles Philharmonic and Grizzly Bear perform for this co-headlining concert that pairs orchestral and experimental-rock repertoire for a cohesive program that aims to break boundaries between genres and generations. The orchestra does not perform together with Grizzly Bear.
The first half of the program features the Los Angeles Philharmonic performing orchestral pieces specifically chosen to reflect the music that inspired Grizzly Bear to pursue their own musical endeavors. The second half of the program features Grizzly Bear performing a full set that includes songs from their most recent release Yellow Road, hailed as one of 2007’s best records by Pitchfork Media, calling it “an impeccably crafted psychedelic folk record…its delicate instrumentation is otherworldly…” The Guardian states “It's like wandering through Brian Wilson's mind on a clear day in 1967. . . [it’s not] to dip into; instead you dive in and sink to the bottom, at once drenched in emotion and uplifted.”
Grizzly Bear members Daniel Rossen (songwriting/guitar), Ed Droste (songwriting/guitar), Chris Taylor (clarinet/production) and Christopher Bear (drums), employ traditional and electronic instruments, including piano, bass, whistles, banjo and laptops. Their musical explorations traverse a landscape of lush instrumentation, haunting melodies, and lo-fi authenticity. Stereogum named Grizzly Bear’s Wordless Music Concert at the New York Society for Ethical Culture its favorite show of 2007.
GRIZZLY BEAR have approached song writing as a craft to master. Over the course of three releases, Horn of Plenty and Yellow House, and their recently released Friend EP, they’ve achieved mastery. Grizzly Bear is remarkable not just for their attention to detail but for their concern for how a song feels: flush with heart and melancholy, their music is seductive and intimate. This is experimental mood music with love for classics and standards. Its unique sound has resonated with critics and fans across the globe. Their sophomore effort, Yellow House received “Top 10 Album Of the Year” honors from respected media outlets such as the New York Times, New Yorker and Pitchforkmedia in 2006. From its original incarnation as a one man band of acoustic guitar, field tapes and drum machine; to it’s current state as a full band complete with drums, two guitars, bass, woodwinds, effects pedals, cradled by four part harmonies, Grizzly Bear’s music has made the leap from charming lo-fi folk rock to breathtaking, experimental cinematic pop. The talent between the four members of Grizzly Bear is evident from their deft playing, which also makes for a brilliant and engrossing live act.
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If home is where you hang your hat then Silver Lake is rapidly turning into the world's largest hat rack. Over the past 12 months, it has become de rigueur in hipster courting rituals for male hipsters (homo habilus hipstericus) to trot out increasingly ridiculous pieces of vintage head-ware in an effort to woo the female species of hipster (homo habilus hipstripesicus). A trend once confined to the deepest recesses of the Cha Cha Lounge has spread like wildfire, consuming most of Hollywood and threatening as far west as the Fairfax district. As a native Angeleno dedicated to the preservation of a sane, safe city, I have decided to compile a guide designed to help ameliorate this obvious hipster identity crisis. If you or anyone you know has this problem, please take them to the nearest Lids as rapidly as possible.
The Fedora
Unless you're a chain-smoking, hard-as-nails 1940s gumshoe who can say the phrase "private dick" with a straight face, you probably shouldn't be wearing a fedora. I know half of you guys went to private school with people named Humphrey and/or Dashiell, but unless you've actually solved at least one mystery in your life then you are forbidden from fedora-ing. And, no figuring out to the plot to Mullholland Drive doesn't count as a mystery. Of course, there is also the fact that Will I Am wears fedoras. And nothing Will I Am does can ever be cool. Nothing.
The Derby
If I wanted to see a walking, talking, ball of hair in a derby hat, I'd just go watch an episode of The Addams Family.
The Che
Fight the revolution! One $3.00 organic fair trade cup of coffee at a time.
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Remembering Mike Webber of the Nip Drivers
By Jula Bell
Being an underground musician in L.A., I'm inundated with music. Everyone is up there rocking out, and trying their best to communicate with the audience in hopes of getting a response of respect and/or admiration. I have found that most musicians are either concerned with expressing themselves or just trying to make it big. Sometimes it's both. The desperation is so prevalent in so many bands that very often musical depth and insight are laid aside for what is perceived as an image. As a musician, this process always saddens me.
There are but a few singers of our time who have truly moved me emotionally. One of them was Mike Webber of the South Bay punk band, Nip Drivers. Mike, who died a year ago this month, was a brilliant artist and poet and one of the most unique performers that I have ever seen. His profound lyrics spewed out effortlessly and his singing style was all about reckless abandon. When he performed he would throw his guts on the floor, and delight in the mayhem of it all. He had his demons and drug battles, and his singing was almost like a sassy “fuck you” exorcism at times. He would do these spastic dance moves and run around naked or in dresses singing horrifying covers in falsetto. We all lapped it up. Mike did the best covers of pop hits, hands down. He always made them his own, and usually did it better than the original (which is really hard to do).
Best of all, he had fun doing it. He was also modest about his brilliance. I always thought of him to be a kind of a South Bay Darby Crash -- but less into nihilism and more into the irony of our existence. He always had incomparable wit, was well read, and was very current on socio-political events. Add a sense of utter ridiculousness and rockingness; and the result was a plethora of amazing albums.
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Thanks to the suggestion of my friend Nacho Genzon, I have been listening quite a bit lately to Fred Neil, the American singer-songwriter of the 60's & 70's most regarded for penning the tune “Everybody's Talkin',” popularized by the use of the Harry Nilsson version in Midnight Cowboy. And thanks to some unpleasant and unfortunate personal heartache, I can't seem to remove his comforting, mellow self-titled 1966 album from my turntable. Listening to the first track “The Dolphins,” is like getting a musical hug.
What caught my attention, though, after the 322nd time listening to this record, was the short liner-note biography on the back cover of the album, written by the fantastic music journalist Jerry Hopkins. It is one of the sweetest, most heartfelt, and most succinct album liner-note biographies I have ever had the pleasure to read. It is so nice, you don't even need to listen to the record to appreciate its tenderness (although, I recommend listening to the record). Here it is:
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Artists giving away their music for free, a chronology.
1906, Brant Rock, Massachusetts. Sailors off the coast of the Atlantic hear an eerie, otherworldly sound emanate from a box given to them by inventor Reginald Fessenden. On shore, Fessenden stands in front of a microphone attached to a synchronous rotary-spark transmitter, sings a hymn, "O Holy Night," and accompanies himself on violin. “Sweet hymns of joy in grateful chorus raise we,” croons Fessenden as the sailors listen, awestruck. “Let all within us praise His holy name.” As the signal fades and then vanishes, one particular seaman, Thomas Charles Webster, immediately fetches his violin and continues the song. The sailors rejoice. For free.
1921, Sugarland, Texas. Huddie “Leadbelly” Ledbetter, incarcerated for killing his cousin during a fight, pleads his case for early release to Governor Pat Morris Neff. During the proceedings, Leadbelly performs -- for no money -- a clemency song that he penned especially for the occasion. Soon thereafter, Neff frees Leadbelly. Thirty years later, the governor, on his deathbed, reminisces about his life. Between images of his first love and his final election, Leadbelly’s little melody drifts through Neff’s head, even though he didn’t pay a dime for it. Priceless.
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The Village Voice's Siren Music Festival took place over the weekend with performances from M.I.A., New York Dolls, Elvis Perkins, The Black Lips and a lot more. Click here to visit the Voice's music blog Sound of the City and read more about it. Or go straight to all the photos.
M.I.A. actually stops her set to put on lipstick. Seriously.
Photo by Rebecca Smeyne
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If you haven't watched it yet, this Feist video is the cutest thing I've ever seen. My new girl crush. And if you've already seen it, watch it again because it's so friggin adorable. I love how young white musicians are really into one shot choreographed music videos these days.
--Rena Kosnett
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Jack is Dead; Radio Listeners Rejoice
The Village Voice reports that their version of Jack FM, which is probably very close to our version of Jack FM on 93.1 is going away, headed back to the oldies station it had been before the switch.
The Voice's music blog says:
Jack, that insipid radio-format that's supposed to sound like someone's— the captain of your high school football team's? — iPod on shuffle, is not long for New York, Crain's New York Business reported today on its web site.
Is this station hated in LA too? I'm all for hating bad radio, but what's wrong with a Tom Petty/Cure/Prince set? Plus - no DJs. Mostly I'm just curious if there's a Jack-FM hate-party going on in LA that I wasn't invited to.
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Timothy Norris checked our Eskimohunter at Spaceland Monday. Both Eskimohunter and The Mere Mortals sported female bass players. Eskimohunter plays for free every Monday night through the end of the month. Click here or the photo above to see more of the show.
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This press release struck me as curious, mainly in the way it camouflages the fact that this new version of the "reunited" "Smashing Pumpkins" doesn't include guitarist James Iha nor bassist D'arcy Wretsky.
Then again, I'm not a fan. So what do I care?
I seem to be experiencing some vicarious fan outrage that I personally don't feel at all. Weird.
FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE
Smashing Pumpkins Add Stop to The Pearl
Influential rockers announce North American tour dates including a September 13 stop at The Palms
Las Vegas, Nev. – July 9, 2007 – Fresh off of the success of their latest single “Tarantula” from the most anticipated album to date Zeitgeist (July 10, 2007), underground rockers Smashing Pumpkins announce their North American tour dates including a stop at the intimate Pearl Concert Theater at the Palms Casino Resort in Las Vegas. The show will take place Thursday, September 13, 2007, at 8 p.m. following just days after the MTV Video Music Awards take the stage at the very same venue.
In 1993, the Smashing Pumpkins became a familiar name to underground and alternative rock fans throughout the work with the release of the haunting Siamese Dream. Although a previous release Gish (1991) created some buzz underground, it was the radio friendly singles on Siamese like “Cherub Rock,” “Today” and “Disarm” that placed the Pumpkins on the path to commercial success, with the band dragging their heels and holding on to as much indie power as possible along the way.
The band took time in its follow up release wanting to deliver to fans a two-disc set as previously promised. Keeping fans interested, they released Pisces Iscariot (1994) which was a collection of rarities and b-sides. Finally in 1995, Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness was released with singles like “Bullet with Butterfly Wings,” “1979,” “Zero” and “Tonight, Tonight” placing it at the top of every rock chart and eventually pushing the album to sell more than 4 million copies in the United States alone. The album was eventually certified platinum over eight times – a feat not many rock bands of their stature have accomplished.
Following line up changes and a farewell tour in 2000, the Smashing Pumpkins have reunited to much anticipation from fans and critics alike, and are releasing the latest album tomorrow, titled Zeitgeist. Judging by reaction to the first single “Tarantula,” fans will not be disappointed and will hear the familiar rock sounds synchronized with lead singer Billy Corgan’s haunting vocals.
Presented by Andrew Hewitt and Live Nation, tickets for Smashing Pumpkins are $60.50, plus any additional box office or service fees, and go on-sale Saturday, July 14, 2007, at 10 a.m. Please visit any Ticketmaster location, call 702-474-4000 or visit www.ticketmaster.com to purchase tickets. The Pearl Box Office is open from noon – 7 p.m. daily. Doors for Smashing Pumpkins will open at 7 p.m. and show time is 8 p.m. The Pearl is home to the Miller Lite concert series, for more information on upcoming concerts, please call 702-942-6888.
About Smashing Pumpkins:
The Smashing Pumpkins formed when Billy Corgan returned to his home town of Chicago in the late ‘80s and met guitarist James Iha. The two began working together – performing and recording with the help of a drum machine. At one of their performances Corgan met D’Arcy Wretzky who eventually became the groups bassist and later Jimmy Chamberlin joined the group as drummer. The band gained local popularity and a dedicated following. Personal struggles throughout the band and individually led not only to problems within the group, but was also the force behind many of the acclaimed lyrics and sounds heard on Siamese Dream.
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A reunited Squirrel Nut Zippers performed at Hootenanny in Irvine on July 7. For photos of more bands – and more girls – check out OC Weekly's slideshow.
(Photo by Erin DeWitt/OC Weekly)
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"You all know Josh Homme? Big tall blonde guy, singing with Queens? If he ever offers you a pill, don't take it. Or, trust me, just take half." Words of wisdom by Eddie Vedder at the end of the Pearl Jam set at Rock Werchter in Belgium summed up the progression, or digression of the evening depending on how you look at it.
I indeed slept in front of the gates to the festival, wound up in the front row, which by the time all the campers at the 4-day event stumbled out of their soggy tents, was 70,000 people strong. The lineup for the day included Kings of Leon (with appearance by Vedder, see video below), Kaiser Chiefs, Bloc Party, Arctic Monkeys, Queens of the Stone Age and Pearl Jam. If it wasn’t for so many good bands one after another, I’m not sure how else I could have survived being trapped by the crowd without food or water for 14 hours. But I did it, even with one friend sleeping on the barricade next to me half the day.
With each following band, a heightened energy grew and Queens of the Stone Age delivered the drop kick to the face everyone was begging for. The addition of bass player Michael Shuman to the mix has filled the void they’ve been missing since Nick Oliveri exited. This guy is straight bad-ass, complete with demonic backup screams and windmill head bangs. The Viking-man himself, Josh Homme, led the crowd through a twisted set capped off by ass-kickers like “Mexicola,” “Feel Good Hit of the Summer,” “Songs for the Dead,” and newbies “Battery Acid” and “Sick, Sick, Sick.” Always an intense performance by the desert ensemble, these guys really brought it, setting the stage for Pearl Jam, who would have to rely on crowd participation to match the energy of Queens.
Pearl Jam took the stage at 11p.m., to a hungry crowd who were biting and clawing to get to the front, literally. The bruises on my ribs and wrists are battle wounds from the entire pit constantly surging on me, with only a steel barricade to brace the impact. I did however have the joy of being stuck directly in front of lead guitarist Mike McCready, who’s always a ham for the crowd. Complete with a behind-the-head guitar solo during “Evenflow,” and a constant confetti of guitar picks for the fans, McCready kept the everyone occupied as Vedder struggled his way through the show, obviously feeling the effects of the day. His wine bottle that usually flows all night was empty the entire set from what I saw. I think that pill he popped had him taken care of for the night.
A rare live performance of “Smile” had bassist Jeff Ament switching instruments with guitarist Stone Gossard for the tune. One of the few slower songs of the evening, along with rarity "Dissident", sing-alongs dominated the set and kept everyone involved. The command and precision demonstrated by the guys was obvious as compared to the earlier bands of the day, but it just wasn’t the same as the small indoor shows we are used to in the states. Ed Ved also unleased a new song of his, “No More,” standing solo on stage in front of 70,000 people, who sang along to the chorus, “No More War.” Hopefully the White House could hear our plea.
At the end of the night we were sent home with a rousing version of The Who’s “Baba O’Riley,” complete with a guest spot by Homme. A peek at the set list showed six songs left out of rotation, explaining the short performance and validating just how much Vedder enjoyed himself the entire day, and I would expect nothing less.
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Set: Go, Animal, Brain Of J., World Wide Suicide, Once, Dissident, Do The Evolution, God’s Dice, Corduroy, Elderly Woman Behind The Counter In A Small Town, Why Go, Given To Fly, Even Flow, Life Wasted, Porch
1st Encore: No More, Smile, Better Man/(Save it for Later), Alive
2nd Encore: Baba O'Riley (with guest Josh Homme)
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Morrissey: Please stop working and get some rest. We need you healthy.
Love,
your fans
For Immediate Release:
July 3, 2007
Morrissey Postpones New Jersey Dates
Following last nights performance at the Wolf Trap in Vienna, Virginia Morrissey was seen by an ear, nose and throat specialist this morning in Washington, DC. The doctor confirmed that Morrissey was still suffering from a viral infection that had caused the postponement of several shows last week and that his throat had not healed. As a result he has ordered that Morrissey not sing again before the 7th of July at the earliest. Consequently in addition to tonight's show in Baltimore the scheduled concerts in Atlantic City at The Borgata on the 5th of July and Holmdel, New Jersey at PNC Arts Center on the 6th of July have been postponed. An announcement will be made as soon as possible as to whether it is possible to reschedule any of these shows and in the meantime ticket holders should maintain possession of their tickets. The tour is scheduled to recommence in Boston on the 7th of July at Bank Of America Pavillion.
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Just a hop, skip and a jump away from the hippiest place on earth, Amsterdam, myself and my fearless crew of touring friends invaded Nijmegen, Holland. This one-day festival, billed as "Pearl Jam in the Park," also featured Satellite Party (Perry Ferrell’s new band), Kings of Leon, and Incubus. Rain had dumped down for the past few days, but just hours before the start of the show the clouds parted, and mixed just right with the aromatic cloud formations that loomed above the crowd, created the most beautiful setting for a night of rock n’ roll.
The surprise of this night came from Satellite Party. I didn’t even know these guys were playing. Who wouldn’t like to hear some Jane's Addiction songs to start off the night. The new stuff wasn't too shabby either. Also very impressive were the Kings of Leon. They came out with a lot of energy, and the crowds ate them up. At the end of their set, Eddie Vedder joined them for "Slow Night, So Long," where he demonstrated his masterful skill of annihilating tambourines.
The previous two Pearl Jam shows I attended in Düsseldorf and Copenhagen were “Ten Club shows,” meaning the band’s fan club (Ten Club) offers members tickets to shows, allowing early entry to the venue, ensuring the best spots in the house. These shows draw many long time, devout Pearl Jam freaks, and it seems the band is more inclined to dig deeper into the vault rather than stick to the hits. However this was a festival show, so many people assumed it would be a radio-friendly set. They were very wrong.
"Release" opened the set, with 50,000 people screaming “release me” at the top of their lungs, letting the band know from the start that everyone was ready to see something special. It was indeed the start to yet another amazing night. Looking rested and relaxed, with a day off and a stop in Amsterdam under their belts, Vedder mentioned the spectacular cloudscape sunset happening in the distance and how they “could play all night.” The band was on top of their game, ripping through hell raisers like “Go,” “Whipping,” “Leash” and “Blood” with savage aggression and no hints of losing their edge. Countered with rare gems like “Nothingman” and an extended version of Daughter, with snippets of W.M.A. and "Another Brick in the Wall, Pt. II" added to the jam, the band did not disappoint even with a shorter than normal set. By the end of the night, after the closing set of Alive, Rockin' in the Free World (Neil Young), and Yellow Ledbetter, all there was left to do was go on a quest to find munchies and relive another night of musical bliss.
One more show remains for the European tour, Rock Werchter, in Belgium. I’ll be there. I don’t have a place to stay tonight, so I’ll be sleeping at the front gate. See you there.
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Prince William and Prince Harry honored the memory of their mother Princess Diana with a huge concert at Wembley Stadium in northwest London on Sunday before 63,000 people and tens of millions watching live around the globe. Was it cheery or cheesy? Cheesy, if you consider P. Diddy's rendition of "I'll Be Missing You" (At one point he screams, "If you miss Diana, make some nooooise!!!"). Cheery, if you watch Prince William spontaneously do the classic funky granddaddy shuffle at the very start of Nelly Furtado's "Maneater." No need to watch more than the first few seconds, but please refrain from peeing your pants:
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Prince
The Roosevelt Hotel Blossom Room
June 29 2007
At his concert Friday night, Prince joked that his L.A. friends had warned him: Ain't nothing goin' on in L.A.!
Stage banter aside, the truth is that we live in a remarkable place at a remarkable time — The Kid's decision to perform an early-summer residency here only proves it. The last week or so was insanely historic, even for L.A.: Paul McCartney doing an in-store at Amoeba Records (the world's greatest record store); the White Stripes gigging at the imaginary Icky Thump Records (formerly Tower on Sunset); and, of course, the Prince formerly known as the Artist holding court in the Roosevelt Hotel's Blossom Room (where the first Academy Awards ceremony was held in 1929). What a city. What a summer!
So in the midst of constant bad news about the world and the music business, I wanna grab this moment and say, This Happened — And It Was Good.
Granted, Prince's Roosevelt tryst has had a much less populist flavor than the McCartney and Stripes stunts: Prince tix start at $312.10, and the whole affair looks to be underwritten by the telecom industry. As you enter the hotel, you're forced to walk a red-carpet gauntlet — in case you happen to be Chris Rock, Jessica Biel, or one of the other beautiful ones in attendance Friday — and the overall vibe is excessively Hollywood. (You know what I mean: Too many men with too much money and too little respect for the sanctity of a woman's personal space. As part of the standing-room hoi polloi, I was pushed, blocked, and rather creepily brushed by an array of unattractive males apparently suffering from a collective delusion of importance. There were a few gentlemen in the crowd, though.)
But whatever. Prince seems to be the great equalizer of performers: Under his sway, fans — the wealthy, the grand, and the merely mortal — are eventually reduced to a single, huddled mass of sentimental, blissful idiots.
Eventually. One of the strangest things on Friday night was watching Prince forced to warm up the audience — who were chatting loudly in the back of the room for maybe the first half-hour of the show (which began at 12:30 am and lasted about 90 minutes). (This was not the case at his Las Vegas gig, which I reviewed in the spring.)
No doubt the audience was waiting for a hit: Prince and his band opened with a New Orleans-style "Down By the Riverside," which morphed into a 20-minute gospel-blues vamp on "Satisfied," off his last album 3121. His new lyrics were hilarious — about his "cock-eyed" woman (who asks for the pepper but looks at the salt!), and proved that comic timing is yet another weapon Prince carries on his Total Entertainer toolbelt. (And let's not forget that unearthly falsetto, which he used to impressive ends in the opener.)
The setlist was surprisingly similar to the Vegas show I caught, but this time I wasn't as bothered by the brass section — specifically, the way its sonic harshness can bleach the darkness and mystery from Prince's compositions. I still think "If I Was Your Girlfriend" suffers under the pomp and crash of the brass, but mostly the arrangements felt appropriate to the moment: This was meant to be a debauched house party more than a concert. It wasn't meant to be the Total Journey a Prince fan always longs for, and experiences through his best albums.
He's focusing on those best albums lately, too, apparently leaning away from most of his late-'90s output (The Gold Experience et al.). Even the newer songs he performed sounded vintage — like "Lolita," off 3121, which sounds like it could easily be something he pulled from the vault. That's good.
Funny thing, though: The songs bled into one another, and often echoed each other, as melodic and rhythmic motifs repeated — until we could hear a unified sonic landscape unfold around us. You could say we had entered Princeland; it certainly felt as if we were nestled in a knoll deep within his ouevre, where you could hear how the loveliest regions of his catalogue all connect. The bouncing "3121" became an update on "It's Gonna Be A Beautiful Night" (from Sign O' The Times), with a nod to "Hotel California"; while the whistles from "America" (off Around the World In A Day) were borrowed as a horn riff for "Musicology." When his winning backup singers broke into a wonder twin-powered cover of Janet Jackson's "What Have You Done For Me Lately," we were all reminded of Prince's shared Minneapolis DNA with Janet's producers, Jimmy Jam and Terry Lewis.
As Prince and Co. dug deeper into the hit-bag, the crowd loosened — "Kiss," the "Bang A Gong"-inspired "Cream" (heavy cowbell!), "U Got the Look," even a cover of Chakha Khan's "Sweet Thing" — seduced and invited the crowd to sing along (which everyone did, loudly and without shame). By the way, his new song, "Guitar" (off the forthcoming Planet Earth) also fits in nicely with those — goofy, funny, somewhat Bolanesque. Naturally, Prince closed with his abridged version of "Purple Rain" and, ever the showman, urged the audience to whoop along to that mournful "oo oo oo ooo..." refrain — which we did, again, even louder than before.
Despite midnight misanthropy and a bourgeois grudge against the wealthy, at that moment, I couldn't help but love my fellow man — even my fellow asshole. People may be terrible, but they can be beautfiul when they sing a kickass power ballad together.
Prince declined to perform an encore, but he sat in during his band's post-show jazz jam, held in an adjacent room (which began at 2:30 and went till about 4). This much smaller audience lounged on leather couches or stood around, while the band — featuring a husband-wife team on bass and drums — riffed on Monk's "Straight, No Chaser." I was wondering how Prince would adapt to a bebop situation; the answer was, he didn't. After he appeared on the small stage and strapped on his guitar, bebop became rock pretty fast as the band seemed momentarily to tear into a variation on Nirvana's "Smells Like Teen Spirit" — which was actually "Anotherloverholenyohead" (off the sublime Parade, an album sadly overshadowed by its monster hit, "Kiss"). Cutely enough, this version of the song employed the riff from "Rock Lobster" (or something very close to it). Prince's solo on this one was what a dude would call "sick," better than anything he'd done earlier in the night. I have never heard anyone produce a sound so thick and menacing — and yet elegant — from a guitar (including Mr. Jack White). Guitar-wise, Prince is the closest I will ever get to Jimi Hendrix, but he's much more sophisticated and versatile, even at his sludgiest. In short, this solo — as much a celebration of the act of the guitar solo as a solo in itself — was the single greatest guitar performance I've ever witnessed live.
Prince disappeared soon after "Anotherloverhole," and the band played "Caravan" for the stalwarts, the very drunk, and those who were sacked out on the couches. After the metal explosion we'd just witnessed, this served as a satisfying digestif. And then it was over. Walking out into the early morning, with a slightly brightening sky overhead, I felt a kind of music-satisfaction I hadn't felt in ages. The night was over, but the summer's just begun.
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The best thing I've heard in days. Thanks Nic Harcourt for playing this this morning during the few minutes I had to turn off Sandra Tsing Loh on KPCC and a commercial on Indie 103.
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The journey to the Wizard of Paul is a long and whining road to say the least. If it had been anyone else I would have bailed before I allowed the chick with the note pad and the blue Sharpie to brand the right top of my hand with a very stylish '281'.
I'm glad I toughed it out but my shoulders still hurt from holding my head up and my giant burnt nose looks like the prize winning tomato at the county fair.
My buddy Bruce and his pal Adam were in the low 250's so it was nice having someone I know not far away because I'm sort of antisocial and I'm terrible at meeting new people.
The line was like a giant game of Telephone being played by hippies and nieces. Whatever info that came from the front of the line had become transformed and mutated to the point of pure neurological pain by time it got to the other end. Rumors flailing around about when, how, why and what number of people would actually see the “cute one” kept the tension high. A sort of hierarchy was assembling amid the fairly new comers and the odd mutants toward the front that seemed to have endless free time sit on the sidewalk for three days. Kinda creepy.
The show attracted some of LA’s most notables---Melrose Larry Green and Dennis Woodruff. Woodruff drew a few hoots and hollers when he paraded down the street in his self-promoting, gas powered billboard of a car…the first time. He liked that small bit of attention so much that he came around for seconds but no one really paid any attention this time as he stuck his head out his window yelling: “I’M DENNIS WOODRUFF, I’M DENNIS WOODRUFF”! While K-EARTH 101 blasted sixties oldies, Melrose Larry got into a neat shouting match about the Vietnam War with guy sporting a Village People handlebar moustache. You really can’t buy this kind of entertainment.
Finally, we cows we’re herded into the legendary Amoeba record store and duly paced into rows between the CD and record racks. I was stationed in the used section by Tim and Jeff Buckley, The Buck Pets and the Buggles. (I’m going back for that Buck Pets CD).
Macca was so good that everybody seemed to forget that we weren’t allowed to move about and Amoeba has no public restrooms. I didn’t remember that I had to pee until I was deep under the Cahuenga Pass on the subway on my way home. That’s pretty good hang time for post concert euphoria in my book.
That was the most grueling gig I’ve ever endured and I’ve endured about two and a half billion gigs but the payoff cannot be measured. I hope the kid in front of me who sold his wristband to a slimy car salesman type for $250 has a severe ‘I’m-dumb-ass’ hang over for the next fifteen years---I’ll bet he does.
–Peter Fletcher
Photos by Mark Mauer
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Ok, I got in to see Paul at the free Amoeba in-store show. The crowd was a buzz wondering if he would play any Beatles songs or mostly stuff off the new album. Which we hear is good, but good eough to sleep on a sidewalk for three-days (which is what many people in the crowd did)? I wasn't sure. When he opened with a Beatles number—Drive My Car— the crowd flipped. He didn't disappoint, he gave them what they wanted, and so the crowd Na-na-na'ed to Hey Jude, pounded their fists in the air to Back in the USSR, bopped their heads to Get Back, and Blackbird and stood solemnly still holding lighters above their heads to Let It Be. At one point someone in the crowd yelled a request for Helter Skelter. "No, now, that's John's," said Sir Paul. "But, let's do one for John. One for John and Linda." He played one of his own, Here Today. The lyrics seemed to be more for John, And if I say I really knew you well/What would your answer be/If you were here today/Well knowing you/You'd probably laugh and say that we were worlds apart/If you were here today/But as for me/I still remember how it was before/And I am holding back the tears no more. And with that Paul got a little choked up and when he was done he let us all know that it was ok to cry. More in next week's LA Weekly. But I'd like to share with you some images from the front lines, the people who camped out since Monday (and before) to get a chance to hear "the cute one" play. Beatlemania was alive and well on Sunset Blvd.
Elsa Buckingham (#2) and Lisa Longuis (#1 in line) wore daisys in their hair because Paul has a new song on his new album that says, "She picks up daisys from a field/She loves to weave them in her hair/I know she knows it isn't real/She still hears music in the air/It's coming from inside her heart." They waited in line since Monday.
Sharon, Troy, And Alexander White, (#6, 7, 8), Sharon had been in line since Monday, she was later joined by her daughter Troy who was airlifted out of the Tahoe fires last night to be with her. Sharon's been a fan since 1973, and raised her kids on Beatles songs.
Audrey Paulson and Toni Johnson, were numbers 9 and 10, waiting since Monday. They are holding up a couple of the 400 signs Johnson made and passed out to other line livers, giving them all the cue to hold them up for the encore. Gratitude is another song of McCartney's new album Memory Almost Full. (which at some point was a message my digital camera gave me).
These kids are eating their dinner, Jack In The Box, in line. They also camped out since Monday and took turns going on food, and pooping runs. At one point Monday night a set of sprinklers went off near their sidewalk street camp and wet their sleeping bags leaving them to huddle in the cold. Omar Olivares (left) is in a Latino Beatles cover band called Los Cucaraches— they're playing on July 4th on the Queen Mary. They wear wigs and all. Olivares is "George Harrison." (myspace.com/loscucaraches)
This couple, Corinne Hofer and Mark Mendillo have been McCartney fans for "like, ever." In line since Monday.
Russian-born Ludmila was the last in the line. She showed up just a couple hours ago and had no idea what everyone was waiting for. One of those people who see a line and gets on it. When I told her it was to see Paul McCartney. Her face was blank. The Beatles? I added. Oh she said vaguely.
This is Jennifer Love Hewitt surrounded by professional autograph-getters. I shit you not. Poor thing was forced to wait on line like common VIPS and press, until she was rescued by a member of security. The said professional autograph getters, who wouldn't let me take their picture, told me John Larroquette was in line, so was a worn out Lucas Haas, Patricia Arquette didn't wait on line, she was ushered immediately inside.
This might be the first Beatle fan in America, Terry Nield, who now teaches art for Poly Tech High School in Sun Valley. She was a teenager in 1963 when her Aunt and Uncle in London sent her over this booklet featuring the Beatles and their first record. They were unheard of in the States yet, but were all the rage in the UK. She later joined the Beatlesaniacs, a group of fans known for restraint in their fanatiscm. Nield won two tickets to this show this morning on K-Earth's Lyric Psychosis Contest. I asked if she might freak out seeing Paul now she said, "We're too old now. But I did feel 14 again when I won the contest this morning!"
Theresa Flores is also a teacher, for 2nd grade at Montebello Unified. She was shaking, tissue in hand. She's been in love with Paul since she was 5 and saw him on the Ed Sullivan show and has been collecting Beatles memorabilia for the last 30 years.
Fans dancing in the aisles.
During the encore the 400 signs (or at least many of them) were unfurled for Paul, all showing him Gratitude.
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Cobransake's latest batch of photos from LACMA's late night party to clubs around L.A.
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Starbucks Coffee's own personal Beatle, Paul McCartney, plays a free in-store concert Wednesday night at Amoeba Records in Hollywood. (See Kate Sullivan's review of his new album here.) A few hundred people lined up alongside the store waiting for assurances that they'd make it in. Some started camping out as early as Monday, but as soon as they get their official Amoeba piece of cardboard, a number Sharpied onto their hand, and get their name inscirbed onto Amoeba's official list, there really wasn't much reason to stick around.
Jorge, above, got lucky #69.
From left: Shanna, Beatle Barb, Angela and June. Beatle Barb was on the phone with her friend, "Paul from London," whom she knows from the paulmccartney.com website.
Amoeba's David Gomez said about 600 people is the limit they can get in for the performance, a number previously tested by The Shins' in-store. Gomez said immediately following McCartney he's heading to Zanzibar where he's a regular Wednesday night DJ.
Peter Fletcher, none too happy about standing in the sun for hours, had a number in the 200's.
The rumor was that people had come from Japan and even Indiana just for the show. These two women might very well have been from Japan, a fact I could have confirmed if only I spoke Japanese.
Half a dozen Amoeba staff made their way through the line, getting down names and passing out numbers, which will be exchanged for wristbands, which will then grant them entry to Sir Paul's show, Wednesday at 7:30 p.m.
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DJ Shadow, Cut Chemist
Hollywood Bowl, June 25
By Carlie Armstrong
What began as an interestingly ethnic, slightly gimmicky evening at the Hollywood Bowl soon became a night of elaborate and masterful spinning by the likes of two giants of the mix-master realm: DJ Shadow and Cut Chemist.
African band Sierra Leone's Refugee All Stars and Brazilian James Brown enthusiast Carlinhos Brown brought their individual cultural flavors to open up the event, leaving most who were not yet inebriated with slight impatience. This was, after all, a crowd yearning to hear some scratched vinyl, and the Refugee All-Stars and Carlinhos Brown simply could not appease that desire with their quirky costumes and reggae-infused world music sets - though Brown thoroughly tried to up the energy with his James Brown impersonations and strange get-up: an indian head dress and gladiator sandals.
(Photos by Carlie Armstrong)
When Shadow and Chemist did appear, however, their entrance was well-heralded by the audience and quite mighty. But, there was one more obstacle before the music started, and before the two renowned spin-masters sauntered over to their respective turntables, a short infomercial-like film blared and flashed, proclaiming little known facts and history concerning the art of spinning and its metamorphosis through the years.
In traditional Shadow style, the presentation was edgy and more than a little unforgiving, giving him a chance to bite back at critics' questions on whether DJ-ing is as creative or skillful as traditional means of music making. Before the night was over, Cut Chemist and Shadow proved to any doubters the wealth of talent and ingenuity they possessed.
The film faded, and finally the DJs began their set, quickly reaching a barrage of succulent, sensual overkill. The lights descended through the audience on to the two performers, and their music was a fusion of far-east dance music with samples by the rock group Queen.
Most genres made their way onto the DJ's turntables through the evening, from cut-up chunks of The Foo Fighters ‘Everlong,’ to a short pseudo-song lamenting the plight of a lovesick jukebox. Shadow stuck, surprisingly, to more instrumental licks, sometimes incorporating old radio spots into his mishmash of music, but he consistently stayed away from most of his newer stuff - there wasn't a trace of Bay-area influence in sight.
The visuals were as diverse and intense as the music: a well-cut combination of 50’s advertisements, bellydancing, and a spinning record on the pupil of a giant eye. Chemist and Shadow kept the energy high by pausing to rouse the audience a few times mid-show, but they also took time out to momentarily feast at a small white table on center stage, where they devoured food that had been laid out for them.
DJ shows usually suffer from the mixer being unable to leave the decks, but these guys took their spinning and scratching prowess to a portable level, strapping themselves with mini-turntables, and gallivanting around the stage like true rock stars.
Upon returning to their natural, earlier positions DJ Shadow and Cut Chemist closed out the event with true style, spinning a few more songs from their joint imaginations, a new mix-up entitled "The Hard Sell" and then sending out a cautionary scrap of advice, telling the crowd that though they “had too much cocaine tonight, having more will not help you drive home!”
–Carlie Armstrong
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So, lately I'm liking a band called the Clorox Girls. They are very Ramonesy, in a respectable way.
There's kind of a cool Ramones event happening next weekend (Fri. June 29), by the way, at Hollywood Forever Cemetery...
RAMONES DOUBLE WORLD PREMIER
Check out the premiers of both "Too Tough to Die" and "Live at the US Festival 1982" on Friday, June 29th at 6 PM at The Hollywood Forever Cemetery in Los Angeles. "Too Tough to Die" captures highlights of The Ramones 30th Anniversary Concert from 2004 and included performances from Eddie Vedder, RHCP, X, Rollins and many more. The film also covers the bittersweet tribute ceremony unveiling the Johnny Ramone monument at Hollywood Forever Cemetery, also the resting place of DeeDee Ramone.
"Live at the US Festival 1982" features footage from the classic Southern California rock festival and was mixed from 24 tracks by honorary Ramones producer Ed Stasium.
In addition to the films, Arturo Vega will be presenting an amazing display of Ramones memorabilia and Monte Melnick will be on hand autographing his book "On the Road with The Ramones."
As always, the proceedings will be hosted by Linda Ramone and both Marky Ramone and Henry Rollins will be on hand to introduce the evening.
If you have never been to one of the events at the cemetery, please know you are allowed to bring food and drink. It's a proper nocturnal picnic so bring a blanket, spread the goodies and prepare for a lot of fun.
A $10.00 donation is requested to benefit Prostate Cancer Research.
Hollywood Forever Cemetery
6000 Santa Monica Blvd., Hollywood
PS: Some Friday cuteness.
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Live in L.A.: Ferraby Lionheart, Great Lake Swimmers, Marissa Nadler and Eleni Mandell
by Mark Mauer
June 22, 2007 1:06 PM
Ferraby Lionheart, Great Lake Swimmers, Eleni Mandell, Marissa Nadler
at Hotel Café, June 21, 2007
By John Payne
Music: Stream the upcoming album by Marissa Nadler.
An intriguingly balanced night of the newer various strands of, er, uh, well, acoustic rock or pop, I guess you’d have to refer to it. Post-post Americana in one shape or another figured heavily in these performances – lots of acoustic guitars, banjos, strap-on harmonicas and so forth, of course loads of irony-tinged but heartfelt, yearning sincerity, etc. – but the seemingly infinite possible varieties within the form was what was really on striking display.
Gentle but firm, Farabey Lionheart strikes you with the focused intelligence underlying his down-to-earth, laid-back persona and his engrossing story-songs. With eyes shut and a slight grimace, he delivered a lyrically involving and musically deep set drawn from his very fine recent EP and upcoming Nettwerk full-length. He’s a real musician, his acoustic guitar- and piano-accompanied pieces showing great technical craft and, interestingly, dual cues drawn from the burnished Dylanish strains of ‘60s folk and, almost perversely but not quite, what sounded like Elton John channeling Cole Porter; his love-and-loss-and-love-again-type subject matter was thus often given a rather bubbly and bouncy musical field of play, which gave his songs a resonant ambiguity and highly visual impact.
Great Lake Swimmers from Toronto followed with a satisfying set of material from their several alterna-folk-country albums. Singer-guitarist Tony Dekker led his well-tuned and dynamically deft ensemble with a refreshingly humble clear-headedness; his unfussily plaintive voice, a banjo and harmonium on one of their best songs, “Where in the World Are You,” provided that melancholy but mellow frame of mind you want on long drives toward the sunset, the warmth of the orangey glow slowly fading to gray.
Eleni Mandell’s nourish country-blues-cocktail whatever mix was initially a tad disappointing, seeming, I dunno, a bit 2003, but I decided I was being a jaded schmuck when shortly into her she set won me and a vocerifous crowd over with her familiar sassy smarts and nimbly adventurous musical view. Strumming a mini-acoustic and subtly shaking a loose-limbed, white-frocked tailfeather, Mandell drew from her catalogue of pithy but moving songs; she’s got an excellent combo backing her, including Kevin Fitzgerald on keenly polyrhthmic drums; Ryan Feves on nimble bass; and the super- inventive Jeremy Drake, on heavily tremeloed twang-axe, whose beautifully atypical counterpoints to the sound at large produced head-turning moments with alarming frequency. And that is very good thing.
Those who dearly departed before the unbilled Marissa Nadler’s set missed something really special. The young Rhode Island-based singer-guitarist specializes in a ghostly, gothic sort of world, an atmosphere that permeates her digital-reverbed songs of a life gone to dust. . . I just felt a cold wind blow through … Well, when she intoned “The summer of love is over,” it was unsettling, and when she sang – like a butterfly – “when they took your bones away…” it was downright chilling.
She plays mostly 12-string guitar, with alternate tunings to aid the hypnotic, droning effect, and hers is that more classical or European base for harmony, with Bachlike bass lines; she was given extraordinarily sensitive bass accompaniment by Jonah, who’s other day job is with the exceedingly heavy metal gods Earth. Meanwhile, as the ghost of Judee Sill hovered nearby, Nadler did some nice covers, including Leonard Cohen’s very fitting “Suzanne” and something by Townes Van Zandt. Nadler’s debut album, Songs III Bird on the Water, comes out in August – it is all the abovementioned and more, and you’re advised to seek it and savor.
– John Payne
All photos by John Payne