I was under the impression that I was seeing Stanton Moore’s band at Terminal 5.Stanton Moore is the drummer for Galactic, and in his spare time plays with all kinds of people.I found out just before the show that I was actually seeing the Will Bernard Band, of which Stanton Moore is a part, along with John Medeski and Andy Hess.And the show was at the Highline Ballroom as opposed to Terminal 5.A friend of mine suggested the show as well as picked up the tickets, and I didn’t think to verify the situation.But I was suddenly seeing a better show, which was a nice surprise.
Each member in the band is generally renowned as a player of his particular instrument, which makes for an educational experience.I always come away from shows that like that hoping that I have absorbed a little bit of the knowledge that was dropped on me.For that reason I will see these gentlemen again.
It’s been confirmed that Phish is playing Fenway in Boston on May 31st. Check out the newly resurrected LiveMusicBlog.com for a pretty sweet video that includes Tweezer Reprise on a baseball organ.
On a related note, happy opening day!
let's go mets!
Sorry I’ve been neglecting my blogging doodies. Time is tight, as they say, and I promise I’ll fill you in on my past shows and upcoming shows soon.
On St. Patrick’s Day, the Bell House was offering a $2 Jameson happy hour and music by a Pogues cover band for $5. I went with some friends and my name was actually painted onto the front of the building. I’m going to quit talking about how much I love that place because I don’t want it to get crowded. I’ve been there a few times, but not once when it was uncomfortably packed, and I am dreading the thought of it going the way of Union Hall.
I don’t know much about the Pogues (or, consequently, the Fauxges), but I do know about $2 shots of Jameson and buttery Irish soda bread. I hung out for a while, drank $4 Dale’s Pale Ales, listened to some yelling and a number other than mine read in the 50/50 raffle. I was home and in bed by 11:30. It was none too shabby.
Next up: Stanton Moore next Thursday the 26th at Terminal 5
I bought this ticket well in advance, having seen him on Fabchannel (Fabchannel recently shut down, which is a painful loss. You can watch clips from some of the hundreds of concerts they had online at YouTube.).
The opener was the Sweet Divines, a group of young women I was excited to see. I had seen their name around, but hadn’t heard them outside of a video on YouTube, and I was elated when they started playing southern soul, with its distinctly driving rhythm and cajun blues infusion. It’s some of the best music to see live. They had a solid backing band and their voices were spectactular. But by the end of the show, they were “having such a good time” (woman behind me, italics hers) and it seemed like they were putting it on a bit. In that case you just tell yourself it’s a show, after all, and let it slide because they really did sound wonderful the entire time and it was an entertaining set.
Eli “Paperboy” Reed’s songs were in the same vein as the Sweet Divines, but louder and harder. Apparently his dad was a music critic, so he group up around a multitude of various genres and ultimately settled on soul as the style he’d stick with. He’s slightly awkward on stage and a couple of the guys in the band try a little too hard, but he has a supremely authentic sound, which is rare. His live show didn’t grab me like I hoped it would, probably because he falls into the “sound just like the album” bucket and I am relatively familiar with his repertoire. I also had my first unfortunate experience with the Bell House’s sound: Eli’s guitar – a major focal point of this particular band – was completely inaudible for the first 3 songs or so, which was a poor showing and distracting for everyone there.
Next up: Getting caught up with the Fauxges at the Bellhouse
Sorry about the delay here, kids. I spent the last eleven days on a Delaware sandwich between two thick slices of busy as all get-out.
Two weekends ago I saw the Marco Benevento trio at the Bell House. Marco is a highly skilled keyboardist that plays with any number of people, that evening being Marc Friedman and Brad Barr from The Slip. Andrew Barr, the third member of The Slip, was opening.
I haven’t enjoyed The Slip’s newer stuff all that much. They sound like a jazz-centric jamband trying to write rock songs, and they were much better when they embraced their jazz-centric jambandedness and turned this mother out. The real casualty of this war with mediocrity is the bassist, Marc Friedman. That man is one of the best bassists around and watching him used to be a class in improvisation. I don’t know what was discussed regarding the future of the band, but he simply doesn’t play like he used to.
Neither does this man. Things that make you go
Andrew Barr had thin strings – strands, really – tied to the guitar strings which made an eerie sound when he ran them through his fingers. It was nice to see something new and I thought he sounded quite pleasant.
Between sets, we were standing outside and a guy near us said, “I have chicken nuggets like, all the time.” I wrote it down.
The Marco Benevento trio was highly experimental, using a lot of effects and psychedelic visuals. Joe Russo – the other half of the Benevento Russo Duo – came out to help, as well as Andrew Barr. Brad Barr played beautifully and Marc Friedman was enjoyable, yet not as inspiring as he used to be, according to me earlier in this post. Marco can play pretty much whatever he wants, from what I can tell, and he has decided to go with an almost prog rock sound for his various bands. It’s fun to watch, and I know many a fan, but I wouldn’t go so far as to say it’s my personal jam.
Next up after that which was actually last Thursday: Eli “Paperboy” Reed @ the Bell House
Tim and I went to check out Marcy Playground at the Blender Theater. I had vowed never to buy from LiveNation or Ticketmaster again, but here I was buying from both. After briefly mingling with the pointy piece of poopy that is www.blendertheatre.com and deciding against paying a $9 fee on a $20 ticket at Live Nation, I went to the box office at the Fillmore on Irving, or whatever the shit it’s called. The ticket I paid for was $22. I asked what the extra $2 was for, and the abrasively indifferent woman in the cage told me “box office fee.” Surely when you order by phone there’s a fee, so, it’s only possible to get tickets for the actual price at the venue the day of the show. That is, unless the show is sold out, which is the case for many a show in New York. The moral of this story is fuck you, Live Nation. I hope the extra two dollars buys you salmonella at Rally’s.
The show started at 8, and there were 3 openers, so we got there at a little before 10…which was when Marcy Playground was to go on. So the first three bands had started and completely finished in under 2 hours. Unless they started early, which is lame. Marcy Playground went on at about 10, maybe a few minutes after, and could not have cared less. They played a few new songs, which sounded like old songs, and some old songs, which really aren’t that great to begin with. I do like the album MP3, but when I listen to it now I think the fondness of the album is more a fondness for those I listened to that album with. The Soundtrack of our Lives, as it were.
They played mechanically, acted stereotypically and failed miserably. They played “Sex and Candy” and tried to get a sing along going, which sort of gave me the RTs. There were not more than a handful of people there – all of them extremely loyal fans – and it was obvious even they didn’t want to hear that song. The set ended, they left the stage for about three minutes and came back on and asked if people wanted to hear some more. If you’ve read a few posts, you know how much I ABHOR planned encores, and this was just gross. At 11:00pm on the dot, they ended their senseless carrying on.
Four bands in 3 hours. That’s uncalled for.
Next up: The Marco Benevento Trio at the Bell House. Should be a good one.
I have now seen David Byrne four times in person: Saturday at Radio City, once at work, once at a restaurant on 9th Avenue and at Bonnaroo in 2004. The Bonnaroo show was in the afternoon, on one of the larger stages and with a small orchestra. David Byrne was designated a rendezvous point, so quite a few of us gathered towards the back, sat on the grass and discussed the chances of “Road to Nowhere.” We were all loopy and lucid, sharing gameplans and granola bars. Directly in front of us was a woman in her early- to mid-twenties, singing along to every song and dancing like we weren’t watching. She had, by all accounts, never been happier, and in a series of smiling spins she encompassed everything I love about music festivals. We sat and watched this woman dance to a stellar set by David Byrne, living vicariously through her ecstatic gyrations. Then the set ended and she walked away metaphorically. Every gentleman in the vicinity fell in love with her, and I found out later that at least three members of our group had taken a photograph of her without mentioning it. This is what I was thinking about as the lights went out.
this is one of the photographs
I had a vague knowledge of Brian Eno being widely regarded for something or other, but what I did not realize is that the something was an accompolished solo career and the other was the production of albums by the Talking Heads. David Byrne walked out onto the stage with his band, all dressed in white, and delivered the “menu for the evening” while all the tardy chumps were milling about in the lobby: songs by David Byrne and Brian Eno, both current and back in the day. Full setlist here.
The current songs of course came from their new collaborative album: “Everything That Happens Will Happen Today,” which you can listen to in its entirety here. By the end of the second song, David Byrne had already performed one of my favorite Talking Heads songs, “I Zimbra,” and introduced background singers and modern dancers, all of whom were heavily involved throughout the show. The video below, found over at Culture Bully, displays the creative thought and sincere effort put into the show by everyone involved, which invariably helps to produce such an outstanding show.
At the end of the third song I was wishing it was a standing show, and by the middle of “Crosseyed and Painless,” it was. People did not rise and start to shake because of obligation or peer pressure, but because they were physically unable to sit still. David Byrne’s song choices were impeccable (almost…) and the choreography was irresistable. They even rocked the running dance on “Life During Wartime.” The show was full of short moments – like perfect note placement in “One Fine Day” or isolated coordinated movements with the dancers – that in aggregate kindled a sort of religious experience.
David Byrne played some of the best Talking Heads tunes and his new songs were rather enjoyable. All in all I loved it, and I screamed that exact thing so loud that David Byrne may have heard me from the mezzanine. The one and only problem with the show is that he made the poor decision to end the show on a 3rd encore: the title track off his new album. Sure, that’s to be expected, but not immediately after Burning Down the House! In tutus! Dancing like the Rockettes! Please watch the video below and tell me how the fuck you don’t end on this.
I was hyperventilating at the end of that song…and then he came out for one more. Had he ended the show then, this may have been the best I’d ever seen, because it was pretty goddamned close anyway. Definitely the tops since starting this blog.
Next up: Marcy Playground tonight at the Blender theater.
Mary was getting back on Saturday after having been gone all week, and I didn’t want to drag her to Barbés so other people could invade our personal space in that bullshit back room. I spent the days prior doing bachelor things, like drinking at noon, watching basketball and leaving clothes on chairs, so come Friday I was desperate to keep the dream alive. I decided to take my chances on the Living Room.
The Living Room is a valuable resource for live music in general, and for this here blog in particular. Every night they have five or so bands in the main Living Room space, and a few upstairs in the lounge. The drinks are on the pricey side, but there’s no cover and drinks in Manhattan are generally on the pricey side anyway. And every band I’ve seen there has been decent, even if I wasn’t necessarily into the music. Case in point: Chris Velan.
He’s a singer-songwriter, with an acoustic guitar and a Musical Director credit on the film “Sierra Leone’s Refugee All-Stars.” He used a looping machine to provide some texture and wore a tie & vest to furnish a bit of fashion. He appears enthusiastic about achieving popular success, and I hope he makes it. I wouldn’t go out of my way to see Chris Velan again, but for a Friday evening at 8pm it was delightful. Video of him doing what I gather to be his thing below.
Next up: This Saturday, at Radio City, David Byrne attempts to wrest “Show of the Year” laurels from Beirut. Stay tuned.
I’ve grown obsessively fond of Daptone Records for the following reasons, which is neither a complete nor ordered list:
They make authentic soul music – which I happen to thoroughly enjoy – on vintage, analog equipment.
One of the founders and the brains behind the operation, Gabriel Roth AKA Bosco Mann, has to wear sunglasses because of problems with his eyes. That’s what we in the business call “cool as fuck.”
All of the Daptone bands I’ve seen have this smooth little back-and-forth dance that is highly contagious.
They’re based in Brooklyn (which, by the way, was just robbed).
The various Daptone bands – as well as Antibalas – share players often, which gives the impression of a large family of players that play together all over the damn place, which makes me think of the Funk Brothers.
They have a guy named “Binky Griptite.”
the name makes up for the questionable stage banter. photo courtesy of flea market funk.
The opener was the latest Daptone production, the Menahan Street Band. I’d seen them before, at what was allegedly their first show, and I was more excited to see them than Miss Sharon Jones. Their style is an instrumental mishmash of soul and afrobeat, and distinctly Daptone. As Mr. Griptite said, a soul sound was born on a street in Bushwick, and that sound is manifest in the Menahan Street Band. The influences are obvious, but their sound is unique. And they do a cover of the theme from Rocky, which you can’t beat with a tall white Russian. They’re one of my favorite bands currently touring and I’d like to make their acquaintance.
Next up was Charles Bradley, who wore an unfortunate James Brown-style wig. I think the tawdry woman beside me thought he was a James Brown impersonator, which was even more unfortunate.
Binky Griptite welcomed us to “The Dap-Kings on Broadway,” which was funny because it was true. Though at the risk of the joke I’d have preferred to have been somewhere besides the Nokia Theater. The venue isn’t that bad, actually, but the beers could be a buck or two cheaper (AND I DON’T WANT HEINEKEN) and Times Square can eat a large neon dick.
Sharon talked about how she always has backup singers when she comes to New York, which is both good to know and experience. Video of the first song she played with the backup singers below. The part where she asks the crowd to sing along in place of the singers…she thankfully didn’t do that on Friday.
Speaking of backup singers: at one point Sharon pulled some ladies up on stage to dance with her, and one of the women she snagged was Jennie Wasserman of The Sweet Divines. Sharon announced that she had “one of the Dansettes” on stage, whom you may remember from a previous comment.
It was great show, especially the Menahan Street Band. But I think I’ll wait a while to see Sharon Jones again. She does have some bits she does over and over again – like her interpretation of her ancestors’ dances – and the songs don’t change that much from show to show. Even so, it took me 6 or 7 times seeing her to have these impure thoughts, and I’m sure I’ll have a hankerin’ for some Dap-Kankerin’ at some point in the not-too-distant future.
I often detest dealing with live music in New York, primarily because one cannot just decide on a whim to go see a moderately popular band, for the show will have been sold out for decades. And if you do chance upon a golden ticket, the chocolate factory will be goddamn packed with assholes who are significantly shorter than you are.
Beirut is a noteable exception to my love/hate relationship with New York because I love everything about them. Mary first told me about Beirut a couple of years ago, shortly after Gulag Orkestar was released, and I’m reasonably confident I would not have known who they were had I not moved out here. I gave it a listen and it didn’t really grab me. Some time later I tried it again and set it down, only to find myself humming the melodies. I bought The Flying Club Cup and quickly became obsessed with the music and band’s exotic history: Zach Condon, only 22 now, allegedly lived in Europe in his teens and was exposed to Middle Eastern folk music, which heavily influenced his sound. He now writes records with sounds based on what he’s into at the time, like French or Mexican folk music. When I saw he was playing BAM, I peed a little and got a ticket. Check out the video below from the incredible site La Blogotheque: “Nantes,” his opener from the show.
At the end of “Nantes” he beckoned the crowd to stand and fill in the open area at the stage, which, surprisingly, many did immediately. It was like Method Man at a Wu-Tang show, only no one brought the ruckus. BAM is a classy joint, with comfy seats and gaudy trim. The sound is spectacular – on the 1st mezzanine, that is – and the ushers refuse to seat you until between songs. Well done, Brooklyn Academy of Music.
Toward the middle of the show, members of the Vassar College Orchestra positioned themselves on stage with their sweatshirts and their classical instruments. I’d say the median age of the group was just barely able to have a drink out in the lobby (because none were allowed in the theater). I had a moment during the first song with the orchestra: “A Sunday Smile.” You can find a video not nearly doing the experience justice below:
Come December when I go through my notes and determine best shows of the year, this will probably be up there. Zach Condon could be accused of simply reproducing his records on stage, a happily acknowledged pet peeve of mine, but the music is unique and stirring and his albums are the shit so I am easily able cast that concern aside for one show. I can’t recall a major slipup or point in the show where I was anything but fully engaged and utterly impressed.
I had heard of the opener, Kaki King, but didn’t know anything about her. It was just her and a[n extraordinarly busy and loud] drummer, and I definitely didn’t know her music was going to be instrumental. At times it was monotonous, similar to getting really stoned and coming up with a short lick that sounds pretty cool so you keep playing it over and over again. Her banter could use some work (“I just wanted to say ‘rectum’ on stage.”), but I’ll let it slide because she’s a mighty talented guitarist. Mary found it “strong and purposeful.” She started off slow and insignificant but built the short set into a powerful splash at the end, like a raindrop. Her video for the second-to-last song, “Playing With Pink Noise,” is below:
Next up: Mary’s sister Kelly got me a Ticketmaster gift certificate for Christmas, so I’m using it to check out Sharon Jones & the Dap-Kings this Friday the 13th at the Nokia Theater in Times Square, which is only slightly better than going to Camp Crystal Lake. At first I wasn’t going to do the show because it’s so expensive, which is probably why it’s not sold out yet. Unfortunately, we may be looking at even higher Ticketmaster prices in the future.
