E-Rockracy

Smooth Operator

2011-08-17T17:11:00.000-07:00

Sade/John Legend
Rose Garden Arena
August 15, 2011
Sometimes reality just won't do; that's where Sade comes in. There are rare living figures in music that have built such mystery around themselves, they're more a concept than a person (think: Prince). Sade Adu is one of those artists. Shattering the mythical aura this reclusive Nigerian-British chanteuse possesses, she and her eponymous band stepped onstage at the Rose Garden, delivering two hours of rhythmic soul-pop enhanced by seductive, otherworldly video projections.

Just now hitting the road in support of Sade's platinum 2010 album Soldier of Love, the group kicked things off with the record's punchy title track. Alluring, adorned in black and tiptoe-strutting across the stage, Adu was in fine voice and focused throughout. A technically locked-down, tightly orchestrated revue of her three-decade catalog, the show's strongest moments were revealed in favorites, from the subtle, elegant "Your Love is King" and the sax-driven "Smooth Operator" to passionate torch songs like "Is it a Crime" (a standing ovation-garnering highlight) and the pained yet resolute "Jezebel."

Belting it out and armed with dazzling staging and production, Adu gave ticketholders their money's worth. And in a move seemingly aimed at showing her at her most relaxed and "normal," a video was shown during the new song "Skin" depicting the singer with her hair down, frolicking through a field of flowers, relaxed, and smiling. It was an unexpectedly revealing glimpse that dispensed of the glamour and exposed another side to her.

On the downside, there were a few obscure songs performed that were more memorable for the glitzy special effects that accompanied them than the actual music. A valid criticism of Sade's catalog is that it tends to spring from a bit of a slow, monochromatic smooth jazz well, and the energy flagged at times. However, when the drums, horns, and keyboards surged, Adu soared skyward, as on the percolating "Paradise," and during "The Sweetest Taboo," when some fans made a point of rushing to the aisles and dancing.

Ethereal yet humanized, intimate yet distant, by the time Adu sent "No Ordinary Love" cascading over the audience, all in attendance had been transported to her sophisticated, timeless world.

Modern R&B hitmaker John Legend gamely filled the opening act slot with a crowd-pleasing yet unchallenging mix of piano-driven, Top 40-ready tunes that split the difference between Luther Vandross and Marvin Gaye, which sounds better than it actually was. Legend's a photogenic, lively young artist with class, but some growth is needed. He's got the horn section and the backing singers, but what he really needs is a little James Brown.

Neil Young Trunk Show

2010-03-28T13:35:00.001-07:00

The journey never ends for Neil Young. Captured cinematically just a few years ago in the formal Nashville recital Heart of Gold, the legendary rocker and that film's director Jonathan Demme return with Neil Young Trunk Show. The result is a rich, organic chronicle of the 2007-8 tour in support of Young's Chrome Dreams album. With multiple video angles and handheld cameras, Demme's spontaneous approach meshes perfectly with Young's free-floating, soft/loud, this-old-man-will-do-whatever-he-wants-to artistic imperative.

It's hard to think of another 60-something singer-guitarist granted as much reverence by his audience, and one that can summon as much electric fury. It was a smart idea, then, to capture the aging Young in this particular chapter in his career - increasingly grandfatherly and gentle one moment (the acoustic "Harvest" and "Oh Lonesome Me" are given poignant readings), then flattening the crowd the next with blazing steamrollers like "No Hidden Path" and "Like a Hurricane." Humble every second, yet never pandering, Young reveals himself throughout, apparently feeling every note he plays to the utmost. And as this concert movie goes on, the foundational themes of this singer-songwriter's body of work -- how a defiantly solitary man reconciles himself with the outside world, love, and spirituality -- come into progressively clearer focus.

Young and his band, including bassist Rick Rosas, guitarist Ben Keith, drummer Ralph Molina, and backup vocalist/wife Pegi, present a wholly convincing argument for artistic purity and old ways. With an eye toward both spectacle and heart, Demme captures his subject unpacking a Trunk Show complete with a live painter, vintage lighting, and, at center stage, those songs. It all boils down to the songs; Young serves no other master.

Bring on Your Wrecking Ball

2009-10-08T10:03:00.000-07:00

Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band
October 2-3
Giants Stadium
East Rutherford, NJ
"We are here tonight to uphold our solemn vow... to rock the house!!!" shouted Bruce Springsteen at Giants Stadium to a thundering ovation from the locals. This is a nightly declaration by the Boss, and the second and third shows of a five-night homecoming stand in New Jersey were no exception. What was exceptional about this run was the fact that these were the final Springsteen concerts at the soon-to-be-razed venue, not to mention the legend's decision to perform one of his classic albums in its entirety each night. This plan found the E Streeters substituting their usual ad-hoc set list with a structure that might have thrown lesser acts off-kilter. But this is the mighty E Street band, and their effortless balance of formal song sequences and capricious, Jersey bar band looseness made this pair of shows exhilarating successes.

The opening salvo of tunes on October 2 featured the brand-new Giants Stadium valentine "Wrecking Ball" ("Bring on your wrecking ball," Springsteen sang with defiance, a sentiment seemingly aimed at both the venue and his ageless self), the brassy "Tenth Avenue Freeze-Out" and the apparent beer/bathroom opportunity "Working on a Dream." Then, Springsteen and his cohorts dusted off Darkness on the Edge of Town, a thematically dead-serious song cycle that is a bit ambitious to tackle in a football stadium. While certain tracks from this LP, a favorite of die-hards, are rousing Boss concert staples ("Badlands," "The Promised Land," "Prove it All Night"), it was unclear whether melancholy deep cuts like "Factory" and "Racing in the Street" would play to the upper decks. But perhaps unsurprisingly, the group delivered the album with a vigor and sense of pride that made it work completely. From "Badlands" to the closing title track, the highlights included Springsteen's white-hot fretwork on "Adam Raised a Cain"; an affecting "Racing in the Street," which gave Roy Bittan's piano work a lovely showcase; a knockout take on the rarely-played "Streets of Fire"; and Nils Lofgren's dazzling spotlight moment during "Prove it All Night," which was less a guitar solo than an exercise in sonic arc welding. At the end of the album performance, the Boss proudly gathered up the specific members of the band that were responsible for putting it on wax, which was an appropriate moment of acknowledgement, especially for the late E Streeter Danny Federici.

Following Darkness came light in the form of the upbeat "Waitin' on a Sunny Day," which found Bruce jumping in the stands and enlisting a young girl to sing the chorus while her dad held her, to massive applause. It was a terrific move, and a significant one: Springsteen's chance to climb off the messiah pedestal his fans place him on and unite most directly with his audience. That interactivity continued with the nightly request segment of the show, where the Boss collects hand-made signs from the audience that beg for obscurities and covers. Tonight, hopefuls holding up their placards for "I'm Goin' Down," the sweetly romantic Tracks nugget "Be True" and Elvis' rollicking "Jailhouse Rock" were the lucky winners. And as is the norm for Springsteen, medicine is to be taken with the sugar, so the overdue reappearance of Magic's "Long Walk Home" (complete with an impassioned vocal by Steven Van Zandt) and an exultant rendition of "The Rising" set the expected equilibrium.

Speaking of balance, the powerful enthusiasm of the cross-generational New Jersey multitudes was just as weighty a factor at Giants Stadium as the Boss himself. Singing along to every song, waving and throwing their arms in unison, and generally suffering from mild hysteria, they somehow imparted an even more mythic status upon Springsteen than he already carries on a normal day. Witnessing that level of hero worship amid impeccable performances of standards like "Thunder Road" and the house-lights-on, everyone-go-crazy cue of "Born to Run" is that most rare of concert experiences, a reminder of the power, glory and promise of rock n' roll. To conclude Night 2, the "liberate ya, confiscate ya" tilt-a-whirl of "Rosalita" sent tens of thousands happily into the rainy Jersey night.

The third installment of Springsteen's fiver at Giants Stadium offered a complete performance of Born in the U.S.A., a populist favorite album from 1984 that catapulted the Boss into household name territory. While this may have looked like a coup for casual fans -- the chance to hear the Boss' biggest radio and MTV hits, such as the title song and "Dancin' in the Dark" -- in these parts, there are no casual fans. For the assembled faithful, it was all about hearing these tracks in sequence, as well as blue-moon live selections like "Cover Me" and "Downbound Train."

Despite this officially scheduled main event, Springsteen, the ultimate showman, still knows how to surprise. During "Hungry Heart," (which has devolved into rote, if lighthearted, audience karaoke) he leapt into the pit at midfield and bodysurfed all the way back to the stage without incident. It would have been a nice "remember-when" story for all these Jersey folk to tell their kids someday, if they didn't already have all their kids in tow.

That stunt pulled off, Springsteen and company delivered Born in the U.S.A. An impactful, if not quite as emotionally rewarding suite as the previous night's Darkness on the Edge of Town, this album performance was both bracing (the haunting "I'm On Fire" sat Bruce at the edge of the pit, while teenage girls in front of him fawned -- that's sex appeal at age 60, folks) and tentative ("Cover Me" sorely lacked the punch it has on record). Still, this Saturday night party got jumping with carefree rave-ups like "Darlington County" and "Glory Days."

With yet another record covered, it was time to cover someone else per audience request: the live rarity/Tom Waits-penned "Jersey Girl," a tender ballad that found every tongue in the stadium singing its "Sha la la la la la la" chorus. The early E Street R&B pressure cooker "Kitty's Back" followed, with the fireworks-punctuated Irish stomp of "American Land" not far behind. By the time the holy benediction of "Thunder Road" hit the warm autumn air, this night we were free, and Bruce's vow wasn't broken.

Bring on the wrecking ball.

Trapping Foxes

2009-09-03T10:21:00.001-07:00

Fleet Foxes/Blitzen Trapper
Crystal Ballroom
April 12

"The sun it rises..." goes an ethereal harmony from Fleet Foxes, and it couldn't have been more apt on this Easter Sunday. With heavenly voices and often forceful purpose, the Seattle longhairs faithfully recreated nearly all of their breakthrough, self-titled debut, along with music from their first EP. And while this concert fell just short of the religious experience it might have been, there was still plenty of spiritual uplift and exquisite folk-rock songwriting to marvel at.

For an act so road-tested and showered with international accolades (the esteemed Pitchfork's 2008 album of the year was theirs, and the tastemaking British, they love'em), Fleet Foxes are an almost frustratingly modest crew. Arrogance is never advisable, but a bit more confidence and showmanship, especially between songs, should be almost second-nature after over a year of touring the world and playing such high-profile gigs as "Saturday Night Live." Bandleader/top Fox Robin Pecknold sang and strummed to potent effect, and his four bandmates are well rehearsed, but the prolonged silences between songs as they geared up to play their next piece constantly killed momentum and left Pecknold, and by extension, the audience, feeling a bit awkward, like a couple on a first date that are struggling for a conversation item. This situation did find Pecknold openly mentioning at one point how vulnerable he felt, which was admirable in its candor, but thanking your opening band at two different points during the show and begging the audience for its patience with new songs is not expected or warranted behavior from an outfit that has the world fawning at them right now.

Gaps between songs aside, the quintet otherwise delivered a lush, frequently magical 75 minutes of music, churning out and harmonizing on the operatic "He Doesn't Know Why," their solemn, eccentric single "White Winter Hymnal," three promising new tunes, and several other numbers using such gravitas-instilling Biblical language as "my brother" and "your protector." Meanwhile, the climactic reading of "Mykonos" had an epic scope, and its skyward incantations were genuinely powerful. On this, the holiest of Christian holidays, Stumptown's indie rock disciples had their own sort of Easter service - a late-night revival administered by guys that looked suspiciously like JC himself but better yet, sang like angels.

Opening up the evening were the Portland's current favorite sons Blitzen Trapper, who, with a winning, well-paced set, nearly gave the Seattle headliners a run for their money. Here's a gang of individually unremarkable dudes that fast exceed the sum of their parts as soon as they play together. With three sets of keyboards onstage, inventive percussion instruments (water-bird whistle, anyone?) and an overall layered sound, the group dished out a sharp, infectious batch of post-hippie rock that was organic, surprising and at times in line with such power-pop outfits as Squeeze and The Knack, if those acts wore flannel and sprang from the Pacific Northwest. Armed with rockers, ballads and singalong choruses rooted in folk, blues and jammy psychedelia, Blitzen Trapper nonetheless kept the songs compact and the instrumentation neat. The Foxes still beat the Trapper on this night, but it was a close one.

Archive CD Review, 2002 - Guided by Voices, "Universal Truths and Cycles"

2009-08-27T09:46:00.000-07:00

Guided by Voices
Universal Truths
and Cycles
Matador

It's a fact of life – you have to overcome emotional barriers before you can move on. On Guided by Voices' last album, Isolation Drills, bandleader/indie rock poet laureate Bob Pollard, fresh from a failed marriage, relayed his inner turmoil with some of his most revealing and tender songs to date. Now that he's got that off his beer-soaked chest, it's time for this Dayton, Ohio-hailing troupe to return to what they do best: be America's top purveyors of immediate, completely alive rock 'n' roll.

Enter Universal Truths and Cycles, which handily reconciles GBV's lo-fi garage roots with the high-gloss approach they've adopted in recent years. There's the swaggering, noisy "Skin Parade," brief acoustic fugues ("Zap," "The Weeping Bogeyman"), and urgently melodic gems spiked with Pollard's famously obtuse wordplay ("Christian Animation Torch Carriers"). It's hard to pick out a clunker anywhere on this disc; "Cheyenne" annoys at first with Pollard's maudlin falsetto, but then it somehow grows on you.

Similarly, given the consistent quality of these 19 tracks, it's tough to single out highlights, but I submit the anthemic, staccato-riffing "Back to the Lake," the cascading "Storm Vibrations," the scrappy "Everywhere With Helicopter" and "Eureka Signs," a revved-up chunk of resplendence and grit.

For all their singularity, GBV isn't immune to betraying their influences. The folky "Factory of Raw Essentials" sounds like Pollard channeling Gordon Lightfoot, and "Wings of Thorn," with its percussive guitar strumming, could be sandwiched into every future pressing of the Who's Tommy and no one would notice. Nevertheless, as Cycles thrashes and jangles to a close, all that is great about this thing called rock seems gloriously distilled. Grade: A

Archive CD Review - Tool, "Aenima"

2009-08-27T09:21:00.000-07:00

Tool
Ænima
Zoo Entertainment
"Some say the end is near," bodes vocalist Maynard James Keenan during the title cut from Aenima, Tool's long-awaited new effort. The song is a disgusted meditation on all of the world's dysfunction and apparently, Keenan feels that society needs to be purged entirely. Never one to bask even remotely in any type of ignorant optimism, he dwells rather in the murky recesses of the damaged human psyche, especially his own. With delicate whispers that gradually escalate into unsettling primal howls, Keenan traverses Tool's jagged soundscape like a psychotic charioteer. The band launches a multi-layered aural attack, fraught with shifting cadences and temperament. Aenima, the Los Angeles quartet's follow-up to 1993's incendiary Undertow, marks an upward artistic progression for a group thematically submerged in a self-imposed and downward emotional spiral.

Picking up where they left off on Undertow, Tool kicks things into overdrive with the opening track, "Stinkfist." With its familiar musical structure (crunching guitar riffs, airtight rhythms, Keenan's Jeckyll/Hyde croonings), it conveys the fearsome, visceral tone found in previous tunes like "Sober." One of Aenima's prime moments comes on "Eulogy," as Keenan's twisted, imposing vocals are seemingly funneled through a distorted bullhorn. Although the lyrics are completely unintelligible, they nevertheless retain an unnerving beauty. Tool has a penchant for such idiosyncratic details. The disc is full of soundbites (a relentless
tapping on a window, a baby crying) and creepy voice-overs (a German man fervently orating is especially disturbing) that render it a transportative yet dreadful experience. Tool doesn't compromise its art, and fearlessly marries darkly incongruent elements into a turbulent sonic netherworld where no one escapes unscathed.

Aenima is the perfect soundtrack for a mental breakdown. You may want to turn it off mid-disc (running time is 77 minutes, the single CD maximum), to regain a balanced state of mind. That is by no means an insult to Tool, but rather a genuflection to the devastating impact of their music. After a short break, you'll be compelled to turn it back on, eager to resume your harrowing journey into madness.

Archive Chat: Henry Rollins, 2006

2009-08-18T13:20:00.000-07:00

GLOBE TREKKER
Henry Rollins sends a dispatch from his endless tour of duty

What keeps Henry Rollins busy? Let us count the ways. While the Rollins Band’s status is inactive, the 45-year-old continues to bring his spoken word shows to audiences at home and abroad. He still runs his publishing company, 2.13.61, and authors books, the latest being the brutal, often comic Roomanitarian. USO work finds him shaking hands and building soldier morale in such military hot zones as Iraq, Afghanistan, South Korea and Turkey. On the music side of things, his free-format radio show, “Harmony in My Head” has just returned to Los Angeles’ Indie 103.1 FM (listen Tuesday nights 8-10 p.m. or stream the show anytime at http://www.indie1031.fm). And he’s fast becoming the Roger Ebert for a new generation on the Independent Film Channel (IFC). The first season of "Henry's Film Corner" was essential viewing for filmgoers weary of Hollywood’s bullshit, which Rollins is all too happy to call out. The second season hits in 2006 with a weekly schedule, musical guests, and a new name, “The Henry Rollins Show.”

It would be easy to keep adding to this list of Rollins’ professions (voiceover work, acting…), but we’ll let the man speak for himself. The punk legend checked in from somewhere in Australia, where he’s doing spoken word sets as part of that country’s “Big Day Out” festival.

In a recent Washington Post interview, you said you’re working toward getting the Rollins Band going again. Would you be building a new band from scratch, or is Mother Superior still an option?

Nothing has been planned but I am interested in doing something musically. Not sure of the players as yet.

Since talking shows and other endeavors have primarily occupied you for the last couple of years, are you burning to get back onstage with a band? Is that aspect of your artistic expression still something you need to do, or is it more a “want to” do at this point?

I like the idea of playing music still but have been checking out other things lately. I still want to do some music at some point. I don't know what the environment would be like for a band and me at this point.

In your eyes, who and what are some of the lasting monuments of punk rock?

The Ramones, The Clash. They really made an impact on things. The what would perhaps be the perception of rock music now. Punk rock has made an indelible impression on that front. I have no idea where rock would be now without punk rock's intrusion.

To borrow a line from Roomanitarian, “Nothing can be recaptured. It can only be approximated and stood next to.” Though this thought diverges from the book’s context,it made me think of all the bands that reunite to tour – without naming names, there seems to be a bigger glut than ever, much of it ’80s and ’90s “alt-rock” bands. As a performer, what do you think this phenomenon boils down to? It’s too reductive to say it’s just about the money. Is there a need, an insecurity/“please love me again” element at play here?

I think it could be all kinds of reasons and combinations of reasons. I know I miss doing songs I used to do a long time ago with Black Flag. Those were really cool and I still love them. I think some bands may not feel done with it all yet and want to get out there again after a long absence, thinking they are really better than ever. I think ultimately it's a little sad, but then again I saw the Stooges play the other night and it was one of the best shows I have ever seen in my life. It was frightening.

You’ve described Roomanitarian as “an angry book,” but can you elaborate on your inspirations? There are clearly targets in these pages that you wanted to take out. You’re certainly taking Bush and conservative pundits to task, and, not only that, suggesting some imagery-rich comeuppance across the board.

Bush and all those pussies make for a target rich environment. A lot of the book comes from the emptiness I often feel. I don't know about what was inspiration for writing of that kind in that I don't really feel inspired when I write like that. Cursed is more the word. It is an elaboration on the wretchedness that runs me all over.

What are the lingering thoughts you’ve taken away from your time spent with soldiers overseas and at Walter Reed Army Medical Center?

That there are really no bigger truths to be known from any of it. The people at the top are almost as clueless as anyone else. People lose limbs really easily and they have the rest of their lives to wonder what it was all about anyway. The closer you get up on it, the smaller and sadder the whole thing becomes. Everyone's just running around being insane, the troops, the insurgents, it's all completely nuts. There is so much pain for the families and friends. It's too much sadness to make people go through in a life.

In terms of your talking dates, what countries and/or cities do you find it hardest to connect with the audience?

None really, believe it or not, it's been great all over. Russia was a little difficult with the language. Israel was amazing, places like Hungary were really great as well. Sometimes in the south of the U.S., there's some disconnect with the audience and myself perhaps but I could be wrong about that.

The new season of your IFC show is going to be weekly, with musical guests. Can you share a little bit of what viewers can expect in the first few episodes?

Honestly, we have just started working on the season. There will be interviews with guests to be determined, I will be going off on topics that are interesting to me, we will have music as you know. There will be some special segments, letters and other stuff we'll throw in as the year goes on. As far as the first band on and the first guests, I really don't know. We have taped Sleater-Kinney who were great, Ringside, John Doe, Frank Black, Ben Folds. Should be really cool.

You’re nonstop. But age bears down, and you must foresee some level of slowdown and/or priority shifts in say, the next 10, 15 years. What does Henry Rollins’ semi-retirement look like?

At some point, I would like to be extremely solitary and not have to talk to many people or get much mail. It becomes harder and harder to be around and amongst people for me. There will come a point to where I will be unable to do it. I am not one who hates people. Not remotely. They are, in many instances, painful to be around.

E-Rock Archives: A Chat with Luke Steele of The Sleepy Jackson, circa 2006

2009-08-18T13:13:00.001-07:00

Waking up with Luke Steele, the musical mastermind of The Sleepy Jackson

It’s 7 a.m. on a Monday morning, so what better time to be talking to a guy who works under the moniker the Sleepy Jackson. Aussie rock visionary Luke Steele is wide awake, but then again he’s in a different time zone — New York City, where he’s enjoying a view of the Big Apple skyline while promoting his ambitious new effort "Personality – One Was a Spider, One Was a Bird."

As the album’s title suggests, Steele’s psyche is no stranger to conflict, and neither is his band. The Sleepy Jackson’s history is a troubled one, blighted by alcohol, drugs, and more fired musicians than Guns N’ Roses. But a new dawn is breaking for Steele and company, a real sense of starting over. With its wall-of-sound production, confessional lyrics and kaleidoscopic pop beauty, "Personality" is a bold statement, and to hear Steele tell it, he and his mates are on a mission. “We’re ready to rock,” he says without a trace of irony. “It’s really stepped up to a right sharp level now, it’s quite serious. It’s really make or break time for the band.”

The lush "Personality," which betrays Steele’s love of ’70s vinyl classics such as Carole King’s "Tapestry" and ELO’s "Time," is the successor to the Sleepy Jackson’s 2003 debut "Lovers", an acclaimed, genre-defying fantasia that impressed even the most jaded critics and music fans. And while the disc was a rush for the listener, Steele and his players found their own thrills on tour, where indulgences are unavoidable. “It’s a war,” he admits. “You’re up against a lot of big guns, like lust and temptation.”

Those crazy nights on the road are the polar opposite of Steele’s isolated hometown of Perth, Australia, which provided the ideal back-to-business environment for recording his latest song suite. “It’s quite calm at night, there are no cars on the road,” he says. “Perth can make you feel like a professor. You can feel like what you’re doing is real significant and definitive and special.”

If Perth sounds like a place frozen in time, that would seem to suit Steele just fine. Like many an artist, he was probably born in the wrong era. In fact, his father, a policeman, introduced him to music at an impossibly young age. “Apparently I was conceived a Tom Petty show,” Steele laughs.

Archives Post #4: Trey Anastasio, Wiltern LG, December 7, 2005

2009-08-18T12:55:00.000-07:00

Trey Anastasio is clearly enjoying himself. If the toothy grin he flashes onstage these days doesn't say it all, the endearing, to-and-fro pogo dancing he busted out on this night is further evidence that this guy's loving the single life. Free of the constraints, expectations and the arena-sized audiences of his old band Phish, the singer-guitarist made a compelling case at the Wiltern LG that he will survive.

Anastasio's assured, three-hour concert didn't lack much, but what it did lack was the momentum-killing, 30-minute set break. In a move that seemed radical in today's clichéd jam band scene, this tour-closing performance was a brisk, one-set affair, a runaway train that raced, braked, and eventually hurtled into the Police. But more on that later.

Backed by his ace seven-member group 70 Volt Parade, bandleader Anastasio was clearly charged up and delighted to be breaking in two new recruits, New Orleans drummer Raymond Weber and saxophonist Russell Remington. With his vocals nicely padded by backup singers Jennifer Hartswick and Christina Durfee, the riff-and-squeal guitar maestro provided fresh thrills, nostalgic chills, and eye-popping spectacle. Credit the spectacle part to former Phish lighting wizard Chris Kuroda, whose kinetic, big venue-caliber lighting was lush and colorful, yet practically seizure-inducing in the tight quarters of the Wiltern.

Focused and steering clear of dead-end noodling that sometimes made Phish stink, Anastasio delivered solo material ("Air Said to Me" and "Come as Melody," high-impact rockers from his new CD Shine, book-ended the show) and some welcome Phish tunes, the latter done mostly solo acoustic. It was refreshing to see Trey playing an acoustic guitar; it's something even longtime Phish fans have rarely, if ever, seen him do. So when the crowd echoed the chorus of "Wolfmans Brother" or went all campfire sing-along on "Chalkdust Torture," it was both a knowing nod to the rich history of artist and audience as well as a loving, we'll-follow-you-anywhere, Trey sort of benediction.

And since Trey's earned all this musical capital, by God, he's going to use it. His stature was cemented at the end of the show by his ability to lure no less than Police drummer Stewart Copeland for a run through the pile-driving "Rubberneck Lions" (from Anastasio, Copeland and Les Claypool's now-defunct side project Oysterhead) and the Police's tension-and-release exercise "Cant Stand Losing You." Don't worry, Trey, you haven't lost us yet.

Archives Post #3: Built to Spill, Grandaddy, Flaming Lips Album Previews, Circa 2006

2009-08-18T12:52:00.000-07:00

BUILT TO SPILL
You in Reverse (Warner Bros.)
Five years between albums is an eternity in todays rock marketplace, but Boise, Idaho's Built to Spill is one of the few acts that can rely on an adoring, emotionally-attached fanbase to be loyally waiting for them, no longer how long the layoff. Issuing his bands' first CD since 2001's underrated "Ancient Melodies of the Future," melodic guitar dramatist Doug Martsch is back April 11 with a retooled Built to Spill, expanded from a trio to a quintet. Consider this a rebirth; besides the addition of new members Jim Roth and Brett Netson, it's the first album Built to Spill has self-produced. With it use of analog equipment and a loose, recorded-live approach, You in Reverse should prove to be the most organic-sounding Spill yet. An initial listen to the lead track, "Goin Against Your Mind," currently posted on the bands MySpace page, finds Martsch's plaintive voice and dazzling fretwork intact, but theres also a grittiness and a tendency to stretch out the jams. Patience will surely be rewarded.

GRANDADDY
Just Like the Fambly Cat (V2 Records)
All good things must come to an end. The recent announcement that this May 9 release will be the swan song of futuristic art-rockers Grandaddy was a serious blow to hipsters and music geeks everywhere. The Silicon Valley-based band never rose above cult status, but they earned truckloads of critical acclaim for frosty yet affecting efforts such as Sumday and The Sophtware Slump. Their warped meditations on life in the computer age continue on Just Like the Fambly Cat, which features 15 more tracks chronicling todays battle between the soul and technology. Song titles like "What Happened," "Summer It's Gone" and "Disconnecty" (sic) suggest the slow disintegration of an act that always sounded too fragile for this crazy world. Grandaddy mastermind Jason Lytle vows to continue his musical endeavors under a different name; until then, this program has been deleted.

THE FLAMING LIPS
At War With the Mystics (Warner Bros.)
The fearless freaks return, loud and proud. Wayne Coyne, Steven Drozd and Michael Ivins, three Oklahoma City eccentrics better known as the Flaming Lips, unleash At War with the Mystics on April 4. Though the white-suited Coyne and his band of psychedelic pranksters could have easily rested on their laurels after the tremendous success of the past few years, this is War, no complacent victory lap. Sound-wise, the Lips will still be cosmic and expansive on this effort, their first since 2002's Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots. But are you ready to rock? Early word has it that heavy guitar riffs and an overall intensity abound here, so this may not be such a Soft Bulletin. Track titles include "The Yeah Yeah Yeah Song" (described by Coyne as MC5-ish) "Mr. Ambulance Driver" (which first appeared on the "Wedding Crashers" soundtrack) and "The W.A.N.D." For serious fans, a special edition of this CD will also be available, complete with a bonus DVD that features additional tracks, videos and a 5.1 audio mix. Look for the band on tour this summer and beyond.

From the Archives: Steely Dan/Michael McDonald, Irvine Meadows July 19, 2006

2009-08-18T12:38:00.000-07:00

No static at all... That line from Steely Dan's hit FM, the finale of their fan-friendly, two-hour concert in Irvine, neatly sums up the carefree vibe of this night and the overall balmy texture of the band's deceptively dangerous, jazz-inflected pop-rock. Upon reflection, FM would really be the underlying theme of this laid-back summer tour/party, as both opener Michael McDonald -- a former member of this night's headliner as well as the Doobie Brothers -- have FM radio to thank for irrevocably imprinting their voices and classy music upon the gray matter of untold millions. Over and over again. For years. To this day, really, if you consider that recent payola paranoia has FM rock radio deejays eschewing any new music in favor of spinning familiar, impossibly worn-out tracks from 1970s acts like these guys.

It's hardly novel for dinosaur acts to trot out on the road in the summertime, sans any new material, and flog their classics for the money. But saying that this warm, humid Wednesday evening was nostalgia-for-the-money would be a disservice to curmudgeonly Steely principals Donald Fagen (a stiff yet affable presence) and the bespectacled Walter Becker (perched on a stool and not working too hard on this night). Their 18-song presentation was an exercise in one terrific, timeless song after another, and though the Dan have no new disc to promote (their last effort was 2003's coolly received Everything Must Go, a disappointment in comparison to their previous Grammy-winning comeback Two Against Nature), their repertoire is simply too classical to be written off as a live product being exploited cynically for cash.

Setting the festive mood with the swinging, propulsive rave-up "Bodhisattva," Fagen, Becker and their brassy 12-piece went on to serve up sharp, climactic renditions of tunes both familiar ("Hey Nineteen," "Josie") and obscure, such as "Time Out of Mind" and the shuffling Hollywood satire "Showbiz Kids" (the latter with McDonald, who sat in with his old Dan-mates for the last third of their set). "Dirty Work," one of their earliest ditties, was a deep cut surprise too.

Though attention to detail is crucial to do these songs justice, Fagen and Becker injected a loose feel to the set, with Fagen addressing the sweaty crowd humorously and Becker telling all they were a "great fucking audience" (thanks, Walt!). By the time they served up the first song of their encore, "My Old School," the entire venue had drank the Kool-Aid, and all were merrily singing that numbers apocalyptic line "California... tumbles into the sea..." At that point, dropping into the Pacific seemed an acceptable fate, as long as FM radio waves could be received, with no static at all.

Soulful silver fox McDonald, whose deep, unchanging vocal chords must be encased in amber, christened the night with an enjoyable set of his solo material (Sweet Freedom), golden oldie covers like I Heard it Through the Grapevine and, most memorably, cherry-picks from his Doobie Brothers tenure such as What a Fool Believes and the inevitable, message-to-his-brother chronicle Takin it to the Streets.

From the E-Rock Archives: Van Halen at the Rose Garden December 1, 2007

2009-08-18T12:36:00.000-07:00

In the saturated rock reunion climate today, there are precious few revelations left. The Police? Reunited. Pink Floyd? Reunited with Roger Waters, at least for one night. Led Zeppelin? Realigned for a one-off show and very likely a tour if a Rolling Stone cover story portends anything. Are there any surprises left?

Well, there is one. David Lee Roth's prodigal son-like return to the Van Halen microphone seemed all but unlikely, after several failed attempts over the years for he and Eddie Van Halen to finally realize the seemingly hopeless dream of many a rock fan. To be fair, perhaps the timing wasn't right until now; the obstacles Eddie's faced in recent years include divorce, rehab and even cancer. Also, anyone familiar with Roth realizes he's a notorious clown and let's face it, the bane of Eddie's existence on a personal and historical level. We all know that Van Halen did not get inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame this past January on the strength of the Sammy Hagar material. How perverse then, that this unlikely and overwhelmingly successful reunion that touched down in Portland this past Saturday came just a few months too late for the appropriate Van Halen personnel to receive the honor in person; they had to cede the formalities to Hagar and recently-ousted longtime bassist Michael Anthony.

But with a catalog this rich and the irresistible Diamond Dave back at center stage, who gives a damn about an awards ceremony, really? While a return of a Roth-fronted Van Halen has been one of most significant missing pillars in the house of recent rock history, the thunderous, triumphant evening at the Rose Garden this past Saturday night confirmed that the house is now stabilized.

Van Halens Eddie, Alex and Wolfgang (Eddie's son installed as bass player and set list architect in favor of Anthony) really made this a family-style affair, and it was undeniably touching at points to see Eddie kneeling/playing next to his son, both experiencing the ecstasy of playing beloved songs to a worshipful crowd. Though Anthony's inclusion would have made this reunion complete, the kid was alright, plucking his bass and harmonizing with his old man at least as well as the erstwhile bassist. Meanwhile, Alex attacked his kit with typical hyperactive force, complete with those signature drum fills and double-bass drum wallop. And what more can you say about Eddie? Trim, shirtless, doing scissor kicks, smiling, and clearly juiced by the deafening ovation of the crowd, his guitar work is just as accomplished and exhilarating as when his band dropped their debut album three decades ago.

And then there's Roth. It's surreal to see him onstage alongside Eddie and Alex again, and even he clearly recognizes the headiness of it all. With an above-the-shoulders physicality that should earn him the title of "Rock's Bobble Head," not to mention an open mouth, toothy grin firmly affixed to his face throughout, rock's famous joker was clearly having as much of a blast as the audience. Despite a short haircut that might not be god-given, a slightly stiffer back that nonetheless allowed plenty of fairly acrobatic leg kicks, he delivered on more cylinders than anyone might have expected. Even though Roth retains his slightly disappointing habit of omitting words and phrases from lyrics that are of biblical significance to fans, his enthusiasm and unbridled joy made up for it.

The quartet started slightly tentatively with a workmanlike "You Really Got Me," and didn't seem to hit stride until the surprising fourth number, the Women and Children First deep cut "Romeo Delight." It was at this point that Van Halen began to reveal the fist-pumping, serious fan-appeasing pleasures to come; while riff-laden anthems like "Unchained" and "Panama" got the expected attention, hearing relative obscurities and hidden catalog gems such as Diver Down's sentimental "Little Guitars," the wacky "Everybody Wants Some," "And the Cradle Will Rock" (complete with its squalling, death-from-above guitar intro), and the haunting "Little Dreamer" was what made this night an essential, long overdue pilgrimage for the faithful.

Throughout, the instrumentation was airtight, with Eddie's fingers still nimbly dancing around his fret board and Alex and Wolfgang ably holding down the bottom end. For his part, the strutting Roth was hugely entertaining and proved himself the most qualified captain of this ship (sorry, Gary Cherone). One of many highlights was when he stood solo at center stage and played "Ice Cream Man" on an acoustic, complete with a verbose story as to how the tune came to be. It was an intimate moment, but Roth didn't get much time alone, as the band fell in soon enough to perform the electric segment of the song. It was a rare space of calm and quiet, and if there's a criticism to be levied at this two-hour program, it's the sheer breathlessness of it all; given the history and storytelling potential with these guys, a brief song intro here or there, or a chat with the audience, would be a nice way to break up the proceedings. And hey, Eddie – do you talk at all?

The burning question now is, what is next for Eddie, Alex, Wolfgang and Dave? If Eddie finally broke down and did this tour to bring his life's work full circle and end it all on a high note, his legacy, always towering, is far more burnished than it was say, a year ago. But if they do press on and do a new album, they have their work cut out for them. However, given the musical force, familial love and glory-reclaimed elation on display at the Rose Garden, it's still not a good bet to count Van Halen out. Whatever they decide to do, the hopes of countless fans have been realized in one of the most surprising and needed rock reunions of recent years.

Broken, Beat and Scarred

2008-11-02T16:00:00.001-08:00

Metallica/Down/The Sword
Rose Garden Arena Portland, OR
November 1
"What don't KILL YA makes ya more strong!" sang frontman James Hetfield during Metallica's pummeling metal avalanche in Portland. Older, wiser and returning from the edge of near-implosion with their new song cycle Death Magnetic, the leonine singer, drummer Lars Ulrich, axeman Kirk Hammett and bassist Rob Trujillo summoned the thunder and rode the lightning for two merciless hours.
While deafening ovations and arena-wide, synchronized fist-pumping were the norm, you can mainly credit timeless, male adolescent angst and Metallica's mere presence for that. Metallica, three decades in, is a tad predictable, especially for longtime fans. The guitars? Thrashing and speedy. The drums? Precise and insistent. The amps? Loud. The bass player? Inaudible. The surprises of today's Metallica mainly reside in eye-popping stage effects (the dancing lasers and multi-hued flames were undeniably impressive) and their well-advised dusting off of deep cuts in concert.
After opening with the hell-bound speed-coaster of Death Magnetic's "That Was Just Your Life," the band leapt right into the spiraling grind of "The End of the Line." Clearly, finality is on Metallica's mind these days. With a resurrection like the one they experienced after their near-breakup and almost universally despised last record, St. Anger , it's no wonder.
With a building full of forgiving, cross-generational fans fueling them, the metal legends thrashed away at songs both dusty and shiny, giving the house a fairly representative sampling of their songbook. Shockingly, only a single song from consensus favorite album Master of Puppets was performed (the title cut), but their previous effort Ride The Lightning was mined repeatedly with the truly unexpected title track, the ominous "For Whom the Bell Tolls" and the vicious yet most welcome "Fight Fire with Fire," which boasted the evening's most spectacular flame effects.
Throughout, Hetfield was in strong voice and displayed remarkable energy, headbanging and stomping about the in-the-round stage. Ulrich was metronomic in his drumming, reliable yet less spectacular to watch than when he was a seemingly eight-armed younger man. Meanwhile, Hammett and Trujillo were on point, plucking and slashing through riff-bombs like "No Remorse," "Sad But True," the latest single "The Day That Never Comes" and, at the encore, the covers "Last Caress" and "Stone Cold Crazy." Three decades on, and a shoo-in for a Rock And Roll Hall of Fame induction next year, Metallica may be broken, beat and scarred, to paraphrase one of their new tunes, but they die hard.
Opening this major concussion of an evening was The Sword, a gang of longhairs that offered a fleet, hair-toss-worthy brand of thrash that recalled early Metallica. After The Sword was run through the Rose Garden, the quite intimidating Down, fronted by ex-Pantera singer Phil Anselmo, offered a slower, sludgier brand of metal that gradually won the crowd over, big time. It didn't hurt that Pantera's bass player was also onstage, nor that a tribute to the defunct band's late Dimebag Darrell was included. Perhaps the most striking thing about Down's set was Anselmo's very noticeable evolution from Pantera's drunk, belligerent junkie to what looked to be a clean-cut, thinner Glenn Danzig. The deep-voiced menace, while still a badass, now exudes a gracious, humble bearing towards his fans, bowing down to them and applauding them throughout the show. Who says metal is a dead-end road? If Anselmo has a new lease on life, there's hope for us all.

Come On Up for The Rising...

2008-10-06T18:47:00.001-07:00

I'll let this post speak for itself...Bruce Springsteen's voting rally speech from Philadelphia, October 5:

"I've spent 35 yrs writing about America, its people, and the meaning of the American Promise. The promise that was handed down to us, right here in this city from our founding fathers, with one instruction: Do your best to make these things real. Opportunity, equality, social and economic justice, a fair shake for all of our citizens, the American idea, as a positive influence, around the world for a more just and peaceful existence.

These are the things that give our lives hope, shape, and meaning. They are the ties that bind us together and give us faith in our contract with one another.

I've spent most of my creative life measuring the distance between that American promise and American reality. For many Americans, who are today losing their jobs, their homes, seeing their retirement funds disappear, who have no healthcare, or who have been abandoned in our inner cities, the distance between that promise, and that reality, has never been greater or more painful.

I believe Senator Obama has taken the measure of that distance in his own life and in his work. I think he understands in his heart the cost of that distance, in blood and suffering, in the lives of everyday Americans. I believe as president, he would work to restore that promise to so many of our fellow citizens who have justifiably lost faith in its meaning.

After the disastrous administration of the past eight years, we need somebody to lead us in an American reclamation project. In my job, I travel around the world, and I occasionally play big stadiums, just like Senator Obama. I've continued to find, whereever I go, that America remains a repository of peoples' hopes, possibilities, and desires, and that despite the terrible erosion to our standing around the world, accomplished by our recent administration, we remain for many, many people this house of dreams. One thousand George Bushes and one thousand Dick Cheneys will never be able to tear that house down.

They will, however, be leaving office -- that's the good news. The bad news is that they'll be leaving office dropping the national tragedies of Katrina, Iraq, and our financial crisis in our laps. Our sacred house of dreams has been abused, it's been looted, and it's been left in a terrible state of disrepair. It needs care; it needs saving, it needs defending against those who would sell it down the river for power or a quick buck. It needs a citizenry with strong arms, hearts, and minds. It needs someone with Senator Obama's understanding, temperateness, deliberativeness, maturity, compassion, toughness, and faith, to help us rebuild our house once again.

But most importantly, it needs you. And me. It needs us, to rebuild our house with the generosity that is at the heart of the American spirit. A house that is truer and big enough to contain the hopes and dreams of all of our fellow citizens. Because that is where our future lies. We will rise or we will fall as a people by our ability to accomplish this task. Now I don't know about you, but I know that I want my house back, I want my America back, and I want my country back.

So now is the time to stand with Barack Obama and Joe Biden, roll up our sleeves, and come on up for the rising."

Pastor of Muppets...

2008-09-13T16:05:00.000-07:00

Yeah, they're massive. Beyond famous, even. When the journalistic wiseasses of the Internet bastardize the title of one of your most beloved albums, "Master of Puppets" with the unassailably gut-busting, parodic and evocative "Pastor of Muppets" (let's face it, that slutty Miss Piggy could use some churchin' up!), you know you've more than made it. In the case of Metallica, making it/fame/success is something they've experienced to a soul-clobbering and financially obscene degree. Some might also say they have become disposable relics, that they jumped the shark upon the release of the early-90s megahit record known as "The Black Album," a juggernaut from which Metallica has never quite recovered.

Sad but true, the 90s and 2000s were not kind to Hetfield-Ulrich-Hammett and whomever was playing bass for them at the time. Moving backwards, "St. Anger" was a broad misfire, they sued Napster/ruined their fan-friendly image, the Load/Reload albums were catchy but uneven, and band that at one point would not even make a video for MTV went so far as contributing a song to a Mission: Impossible movie. Certainly, this wasn't "Alcoholica," the angry, beer-chugging band of hirsute, pimply faced burnouts with faded, holey jean jackets that fucking thrashed and burned through early efforts like "Kill'em All," "Ride the Lightning" and "Master of Puppets."

That said, aging and maturity chug toward us like a freight train, and even rockers in a state of suspended adolescence can't dodge them. Hetfield, Ulrich and Hammett now all have at least two children each (not to mention fine art and more cheddar than most third world countries), and have swallowed a gigantic plate of humble pie since they put out their universally despised last disc. But a funny thing has happened on the way to the Metallica's imminent demise: Rick Rubin and Metallica's back-to-their-roots misson statement "Death Magnetic."

While the cynical urge makes one want to brush off the Rubin/"Death Magnetic" maneuver as a calculated career move, you have to think titans that have been knocked off their lofty pedestal have something to mutha-fuggin' prove. Plus, Metallica is being generous suddenly. As a fan, it's hard to stay mad at Metallica or dismiss them, as a mere purchase of two reasonably-priced, excellent first section seats to one their upcoming in-the-round tour dates has earned this blogger two physical copies of the new album (direct to my mailbox, natch) and also a download of a free Metallica concert of my choice, even the show I attend. The angry 17-year-old kid that still headbangs in my soul is well, giddy about this.

The final, deeply contemplated verdict on the new album will be forthcoming on E-Rockracy once my mailbox is filled with fresh metal. (Nope, I haven't illegally downloaded it, Lars - I promise!) Until then, bang your head! And minister to those poor, lost Muppets...

My Evening Jacket

2008-05-24T08:35:00.000-07:00

My Morning Jacket is back, baby! Their recent appearance on Saturday Night Live demonstrated what fans already know - Jim James and co. are one of the best live bands working right now. "Evil Urges," their new album, releases June 10, followed by a tour of Europe and the States this summer and fall.

Most dates are billed as "An Evening with My Morning Jacket" so expect a combustible, flying V-guided journey through every part of their catalog, a crazy rainbow of lighting and James' increasingly falsetto-leaning vocal range (the title track of the new record sounds like Prince, actually...go figure). America's Radiohead? Well that's an odd nickname for these shaggy, Louisville, KY-bred band, but fair enough. They're pushing the envelope and evolving with every studio effort, and along with their unforgettable live shows, My Morning Jacket is deserving of the headlining status and larger venues they're booked into.

West Coast people, catch My Morning Jacket at the Greek Theatre in Los Angeles, McMennamin's Edgefield in Portland, and lucky Seattle-ites, the stately opera house McCaw Hall.

Here are the band's tour dates:

appearing at "Bonnaroo Music Festival"

Fri 06/13/08 Manchester, TN Bonnaroo Music Festival Grounds

My Morning Jacket

Mon 06/16/08 Toronto, ON Kool Haus

Tue 06/17/08 Montreal, QC Le National

Fri 06/20/08 New York, NY Radio City Music Hall

Wed 06/25/08 Sheffield, UK The Leadmill

Thu 06/26/08 Bristol, UK Carling Bristol Academy

Fri 06/27/08 Manchester, UK Manchester Academy

appearing at "Glastonbury Festival"

Sun 06/29/08 Pilton, UK Worthy Farm

My Morning Jacket

Tue 07/01/08 Hamburg, GER Grunspan

Wed 07/02/08 Cologne, GER Luxor

appearing at "Rock Werchter Festival"

Fri 07/04/08 Werchter, BEL Festival Grounds

appearing with Neil Young

Sun 07/06/08 Paddock Wood, UK Hop Farm Country Park

My Morning Jacket

Tue 07/08/08 Amsterdam, NET Melkweg

Wed 07/09/08 Paris, FRA Trabendo

Fri 07/11/08 Nottingham, UK Rescue Rooms

appearing at "Oxegen"

Sat 07/12/08 Naas, IRE Punchestown Racecourse

appearing at "T In The Park" / Hot Chip

Sun 07/13/08 Kinross, UK Balado

My Morning Jacket

Tue 07/15/08 London, UK The Forum

appearing at "Benicassim Festival"

Sat 07/19/08 Benicassim, SPA Benicassim Festival Grounds

appearing at "Pemberton Festival"

Sat 07/26/08 Pemberton, BC Festival Grounds

My Morning Jacket

Sat 08/16/08 Louisville, KY Louisville Waterfront Park

Mon 08/18/08 Kansas City, MO Uptown Theater

Tue 08/19/08 Council Bluffs, IA Harrah's Casino - Stir Concert Cove

Sat 08/23/08 Dallas, TX Palladium Ballroom

Sun 08/24/08 Austin, TX Stubb's Bar-B-Q

Wed 08/27/08 Atlanta, GA Fox Theatre

Fri 08/29/08 Miami Beach, FL Fillmore Miami Beach At Jackie Gleason Theater

Sat 08/30/08 Lake Buena Vista, FL House Of Blues

Sun 08/31/08 North Myrtle Beach, SC House Of Blues

Tue 09/02/08 Charlottesville, VA Charlottesville Pavilion

Wed 09/03/08 Washington, DC DAR Constitution Hall

Fri 09/05/08 Philadelphia, PA Festival Pier At Penn's Landing

Sat 09/06/08 Boston, MA Bank Of America Pavilion

Fri 09/19/08 Berkeley, CA Greek Theatre

Sun 09/21/08 Los Angeles, CA Greek Theatre

Tue 09/23/08 Tempe, AZ The Marquee

Wed 09/24/08 Las Vegas, NV The Joint

Thu 09/25/08 San Diego, CA SDSU Open Air Theatre

Sat 09/27/08 Troutdale, OR McMenamins Edgefield Amphitheater

Sun 09/28/08 Seattle, WA Marion Oliver McCaw Hall

Thu 10/02/08 Minneapolis, MN The Orpheum Theatre

Fri 10/03/08 Milwaukee, WI Riverside Theatre

Sat 10/04/08 Detroit, MI The Fillmore Detroit

Thu 10/09/08 Chicago, IL Chicago Theatre

Fri 10/10/08 Chicago, IL Chicago Theatre

Tom Waits Tour ON - Tour Dates

2008-05-05T10:49:00.000-07:00

Tom Waits is going on his "Glitter and Doom" tour - swinging through the South and Midwest. On a map, the tour stops form a constellation, according to Waits...

West Coast gets no love, but if you're in Arizona, Texas, Oklahoma, Missouri, Ohio, Tennessee, or Georgia you're in luck! Tickets are on sale now through Ticketmaster.

TOUR DATES:

6/17-18: Phoenix, Ariz. (Orpheum)
6/20: El Paso, Texas (Plaza Theatre)
6/22: Houston (Jones Hall)
6/23: Dallas (Palladium)
6/25: Tulsa, Ok. (Brady Theatre)
6/26: St. Louis (Fox Theatre)
6/28: Columbus, Ohio (Ohio Theatre)
6/29: Knoxville, Tenn. (Civic Theatre)
7/1: Jacksonville, Fla. (Moran Theatre)
7/2: Mobile, Ala. (Saenger Theatre)
7/3: Birmingham, Ala. (Alabama Theatre)
7/5: Atlanta (Fox Theatre)

Tom Waits to Tour?

2008-04-16T19:46:00.001-07:00

The rumor is, Tom Waits will tour this summer! No official word yet, but let's face it, it's gotta be how the ragged American bard makes his living these days. He seems to always cause a minor hysteria every time he's about to hit the road, as diehard fans make travel plans and jockey for tickets. Yeah, I'm one of those people...

Here's a great idea - Leonard Cohen is hitting the road, but so far, only Canadian and overseas dates so far for the legendary poet from the Great White North. Cohen and Waits should team up for a joint tour and make all modern singer-songwriters weep at their futility. This is a dream bill just waiting to happen.

Updates on the status of Tom Waits tour to come!

Pandora's Box

2008-04-13T08:22:00.000-07:00

As music increasingly goes from a tangible format (CDs, vinyl, and if you are as old as a caveman, audiocassettes and 8-tracks) to "hanging in the digital ether" (MP3s, streams), deciding which music service to use is daunting. Sure, anyone can dial up MySpace music pages and check out the latest music from their friends or favorite artists, but what if you need a stronger, more varied music fix?

I've used a popular streaming service at work that charges an annual membership, and since my job allows me to have headphones on most of the time, it's terrific to pick and choose, customize playlists, discover/rediscover classic albums and have complete control. Sometimes, however, you gotta surrender and just ride a random digital wave. The wildcarding Pandora, found at www.pandora.com, can offer unexpected pleasures. The site has the user create favorite artist "stations" and then it springs into action, playing not only music from your chosen act, but similar songs that are mapped to the same muscial "genome." A recent journey through a Frank Zappa station included audio stops at The Who, Cream and the Grateful Dead. Meanwhile, a Tom Waits station touched down on numbers from fellow American bard Bob Dylan. A Jeff Buckley station called up a welcome track from his "Live at Sine-e" EP.

Pandora seems to let you create an unlimited number of stations, and it's simple to create and delete them. The more stations you create, the better; throw it on random play and let the good times roll - it can be ear-opening, educating and extremely enjoyabl. Best thing about it? Using the site is free. Sure, there are payment options that give you more control (unlimited skips, for instance), but trying to contain Pandora's box is probably besides the point. Rock n' roll is about unpredictability and exhilaration; Pandora nicely epitomizes those qualities. It's a site well worth checking out.

Prove It All Night

2008-04-02T20:39:00.000-07:00

Some unusual things happened in Portland, Oregon on March 28. It snowed. Then the sun came out. Then it snowed again. And Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band played the Rose Garden. It was a Friday to remember.

Playing to a slightly less than capacity crown, and on the road in support of his rocking, serious-minded new album "Magic," Bruce and his band of brothers breathed fist-pumping energy into an incomparably great repertoire and blew away any apathetic shadow that might have loomed over the hearts of all assembled. Springsteen was in the house, and Portland was on its feet.

Though the well-paced, career-spanning setlist for the Rose Garden show followed roughly the same pattern as most shows of this second leg of the "Magic" trek (Born to Run's saxophone-heavy call to action "Night" as the opener, into "Radio Nowhere," etc.), it was clear that the framework Springsteen wanted consisted of the "Magic" material. Indeed, the new songs came off more powerfully than the obligatory favorites ("Born to Run," "Dancing in the Dark") and Bruce geek-appeasing deep cuts (a slightly tentative version of "For You").

Standing out among the recent material was the driving "Last to Die," both a no-nonsense elegy to the soldiers and foreign civilians dying daily overseas and an indictment of the leaders and politics whose mistakes have cost those lives. Several songs earlier, the haunting title cut of the new album found Bruce in stripped-down mode, with only fiddle player Soozie Tyrell accompanying him. With its sleight-of-hand message and words of resignation, "This is what will be," it proved one of the most telling and resonant moments of the 2 hour, 20-minute show.

Despite his seriousness and sense of artistic responsibility, the stage has never been a bully pulpit for Bruce; if anything, it's the ground floor for rock n' roll revival, and reverend Springsteen preached from the good songbook. The defiant "Prove It All Night" was a triumph, as were the joyous "She's the One" and the harmonica-seared, stomping-blues take on "Reason to Believe."

The entire performance was spectacular, with Bruce, Steven Van Zandt, Nils Lofgren, Gary Tallent, Clarence Clemons, Max Weinberg, Tyrell and Charlie Giordano (subbing for the cancer-stricken E-Streeter Danny Federici) anticipating each other's moves perfectly and giving their all to every number. While the show's cruising altitude was high throughout, two songs that were requested by audience signs jetted even higher into the stratosphere: the devastating slow-burner "Lost in the Flood" (in place of "The River" on the setlist) and the gorgeous, climactic "Jungleland," where Clemons' soaring and heart-rending sax solo alone was a testament to the incredible power of rock n' roll. By the time Bruce and the E Streeters closed with the uplifting Pete Seeger rave-up "American Land," the Rose Garden was pleasantly exhausted. Bruce? He was just getting started, it seemed.

Acceleration!!

2008-04-01T19:30:00.000-07:00

Just streamed the new R.E.M album "Accelerate" today with some trepidation; all the critical hype around Michael Stipe and co.'s supposed "comeback album" really made my skepticism hackles go up. Though I rated "Up" as one of the 10 finest albums of its release year, "Reveal" and their last outing, "Around the Sun" did leave even the most fervent R.E.M. fans at least a little cold. Maybe a lot cold.

However, I'm exceptionally pleased (and not a little shocked) to say that the strident, rhythmic and melodic "Accelerate," song for song, indeed represents the Athens, GA's band return to form. It's inevitable on such an occasion as this to toss around the word "comeback" like a tennis ball, but I'd go so far to say that this is their "All That You Can't Leave Behind," the record that put U2 back in critical and commercial favor after the techno miscalculation of "Pop."

While some might say R.E.M. is going "back-to-basics" (yawn), it's not spin-doctoring to say that they surveyed their strengths, and channeled them to striking, cohesive effect on these new songs. Sure, there are echoes of vintage R.E.M.: the political finger pointing of "Document" and "Green"; the emotional lyricism of "Murmur" and "Life's Rich Pageant; the loud Peter Buck power chords from "Monster." However, "Accelerate" finds synergy amid its ingredients, and Stipe, Buck and bassist Mike Mills have finally become whole again in the post Bill Berry-era.

R.E.M., an undeniably huge and influential American rock institution, hasn't just accelerated; they've outrun the diminishing expectations their last three records have forced upon them. It's the end of their critical woes as we know it...

Are You Ready to Rock?!

2008-03-31T19:27:00.000-07:00

Welcome to E-Rockcracy, the blog about all things rock n' roll! Whether you're a casual music fan or a certifiable music geek, this is the place for you - this is E-Rockcracy, after all. I'll be blogging my thoughts and opinions on the music world, and encourage any and all to weigh in and add to the discussion! It's an election year, so every voice should be heard!

Let's face it - in an era where the traditional music industry and CDs are in dramatic decline, digital music is on the rise, and independent artists are empowered by the Internet, rock's playing field has been leveled. Our new, constantly-plugged-in reality has empowered everyone from garage bands to indie rockers to old-guard rock legends. With such a glut of music out there, and our computers and iPods suddenly becoming what our older brothers and parents called "the stereo," it's high time for an intelligent, evenhanded discourse about the wide-ranging rock n' roll that moves us.

This is E-Rockcracy - are you ready to rock?!