Jonas Brothers dig '80s music
The Jonas Brothers Thursday night at Nokia Theatre. (Randy Eli Grothe/DMN)
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The Jonas Brothers Thursday night at Nokia Theatre. (Randy Eli Grothe/DMN)
When Eric Clapton played New York Monday with old Blind Faith-mate Steve Winwood, they took another crack at "Sleeping in the Ground" by Sam Myers, the late Dallas bluesman who sang with Anson Fundergburgh & the Rockets. Slowhand and Winwood originally cut "Sleeping" nearly 40 years ago. Here's my obit on Sam from 2006.
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A Barbie doll with a heart. (Courtesy of Dolly Records)
Phil prances over to the country music market. (Frank Micelotta)
OK, that is a cool CD title. (Courtesy of Capitol Nashville)
Edie Brickell has teamed up with her 35-year-old stepson, Harper Simon (Paul’s kid, the one mentioned in “Graceland” ) in the Heavy Circles -- a project that that defies expectations. On the Circles' just-released self-titled debut, Simon pushes Edie far beyond New Bohemia with his jagged guitar and aggressive production -- especially on the garage-rocky “Dynamite Child” and “Ready to Play,” which could pass for a Lou Reed rarity. Listen to song samples and the duo talking about their music here.
The thrill of Thriller. (Courtesy of Sony Legacy)
As it should be! Nobody, nobody, I mean NOBODY writes four CDs worth of material, divides them in styles and employs a house full of stellar musicians and vocalists. Oh, and there's not a bad song in the bunch. When Vince said making These Days took a year out of his life, all I have to say is....that was a year well spent!
Gotta give Mary J. her props. (Courtesy of Geffen Records)
The list appeared late this morning on South By Southwest's web site, a few days later than usual -- the lovely folks that run the nation's largest music-industry conference usually get the list of offical showcase music acts out by the first weekend in February -- but it's finally here. And it's quite interesting.
For the first time in my memory, Houston-area acts have claimed more slots than North Texas acts: 45 to 41. The majority of musicians from Space Town appear to be hip-hop acts, a phenomenon surely spurned by the still-strong chopped-and-screwed Houston rap style.
Of the local acts many are sage picks, including Calhoun, the Crash That Took Me, Fishboy, Glen Reynolds, Mom, Record Hop, Play-N-Skillz and a recently re-formed Centro-matic. Others are, well, odd (Ryan Cabrera? Lumba? C'mon). Post-emo act the New Frontiers made the cut, possibly thanks to its helping out down-on-its-luck acts such as Mississippi's the Colour Revolt (which made it again this year) in 2007. Also in: the hyper-artsy ambient electro-noise duo Tree Wave. Big local names: Bowling for Soup, Brave Combo, the Feds, the Drams and classic-rock wayback-machine torch bearers Kenny and the Kasuals.
On an international level, second-tier nationalities on the world's popular-culture rubicon appear to be championing their pop-music scenes to SXSW more than ever. Portugal, Argentina, Brazil, South Africa, New Zealand and the Netherlands all have multiple acts performing at showcases. Iran's got three (and it may be the last chance for bands from that country to come in quite a while if the political atmosphere continues to devolve in Tehran), and acts from as far away as mainland China (FM3), Slovenia (Volodja Balzalorsky), Latvia (Mona De Bo), Indonesia (the s.i.g.i.t.) and Uzbekistan (Navruz) have snagged spots.
Am I gonna see any of 'em? I doubt it. But judging from this list, SXSW's offerings have leapt to a new level of stylistic broadness in 2008. And I'm not sure that it's a good thing.
Easy, Tiger. (KRT)
The best:
To watch U2's 2002 performance, click here.
To watch Prince's peformance from last year, click here.
To watch the Rolling Stones from 2006, click here.
The worst:
To watch Janet Jackson and Justin Timberlake, click here. (remember what you're about to see)
To watch Aerosmith and 'N Sync from 2001, click here.
And finally, for Christina Aguilera and Phil Collins, click here.
• Story: The best and the worst of the Super Bowl halftime show
So, what does your best/worst list looks like?
Herbie's got his shades on. (Kwaku Alston)
Check out my story on Herbie Hancock, which should run Feb. 6 on the GuideLive cover.
Erykah Badu just released one of the more surreal videos we've seen in recent memory, "Honey'': As the camera floats around a vinyl record store, the singer comes alive on the cover of a dozen LPs, from Funkadelic's Maggot Brain to the Beatles' Let It Be. Later in the clip, a small army of Erykahs perform the song onstage ala "Hey Ya!'' the Outkast video featuring her ex-beau Andre 3000. You can watch the "Honey" video here.
Rest in peace, John Stewart. (Howard Bruensteiner)
If you don't already have this CD, get it! (Courtesy of Columbia Nashville)
Annie isn't happy with her record label. (Brandon Thibodeaux/Special to DMN)
Ninja Anderson? (Courtesy of Collectors' Choice Music)
Mario, Mike and Thor don't just hash about whose stock is going to soar in 2008, they tell you who deserves greatness this year. Listen to the artists' music and tell us what you think.
• Story: The next big names in Texas music
Listen to the critics' picks
• Ryan Bingham
• Fishboy
• Future Clouds & Radar
• Chris Holt and the Slack (or check them out here)
• Nikki McKibbin
• Jackson Taylor
• Jonathan Tyler
• Arthur Yoria (or check him out here)
• Zykos
Do you think the guys missed any Texas acts destined for greatness this year?
(Courtesy of Rounder Records)
He's defined Christmas 2007. (Julie Jacobson)
Music plays a huge role in the new film Juno, especially the witty folk songs of Moldy Peaches co-founder Kimya Dawson. Like the film itself, her music is sweet but off-kilter: She’s 35, but her voice and lyrics belong to a whimsical 12-year-old. Dawson has seven tunes on the Juno soundtrack CD -- you can also sample her tunes and videos here.
According to an Associated Press bulletin about 25 minutes ago, the great jazz pianist Oscar Peterson died of kidney failure on Sunday at age 82 at his home in Mississauga, Ontario, Canada. He was among the last century's finest North American pop pianists (if not the quickest) and during the course of a 60-plus-year career, he'd played with nearly all of the 20th century's great American jazz musicians, including Ella Fitzgerald, Duke Ellington, Count Basie and Dizzy Gillespie. He'd earned a Lifetime Grammy and the Order of Canada, our neighbors to the north's highest civil honor.
Swing, bop and boogie were defined by this man. What are your fondest memories of Oscar Peterson? Let us know and share them here.
Noel all the way to the bank. (Courtesy of Reprise/Warner Bros.)
Lots of TV series rely heavily on pop music, but few take it to the delightful extremes of The Gilmore Girls. The WB series – which ended its seven-year run in May and just came out as a 42-DVD box set – had a dizzying amount of music as it referenced everyone from Brian Eno to the Beta Band and featured recurring roles by Sebastian Bach, Carole King and Grant Lee Philips (as the town troubadour). There were also cameos by the Shins, Paul Anka and cult folkie Sam Phillips, who provided the show’s infectious background music: Never has the phrase “la la la” been the source of so many great 20-second pop ditties.
He hasn't been forgotten. (Courtesy photo)
One reader, Betty Dirosse, wrote something particularly powerful:
Oddly enough, on this past Sunday while decorating my Christmas tree I felt compelled to put on the "Netherlands" CD. Then I played it again immediately and wondered why I did. Only the following day did I learn that Dan Fogelberg had died on Sunday and wondered if somehow I was getting a message from the ether that he was leaving earth. Wish he could write the sequel to "Part of the Plan " from the other side and clue us all in.
Thanks so much for sharing.
Bucky's cool! (Kristin Barlowe)
Maroon 5: Seriously good workout music. (Damian Dovarganes)
Tell us your fave workout music.
(Courtesy of Warner Music Latina)
(Courtesy of Columbia Records)
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Will this CD ever arrive in stores? (Courtesy of J Records)
Juanes at the MTV Latin America 2007 Music Awards (Alfredo Estrella)
The charro suit fits, but... (Courtesy of Universal Music Latino)
Scandal, drama and betrayal....and no, this isn't Chapter 77 for "Trapped in the Closet." Apparently, in addition to losing a member of the 'Double Up' Tour (keep your head up Ne-Yo), he's also lost his long-time publicist, Regina Smith. Her statement read, in part....
“Friends and Colleagues – After careful consideration and counsel, I have decided to formally announce my resignation as publicist for R&B artist R. Kelly.
My resignation was effective as of August 28, 2007. Throughout the course of my 25 years as a publicist, I have prided myself on loyalty, respect and professionalism. It saddens me that I was not always shown those same courtesies during my 14 year tenure as Mr. Kelly’s publicist. Though I have a great appreciation for Mr. Kelly as an artist, there are some lines that should never be crossed professionally or personally. Mr. Kelly crossed a line that forever altered the scope of our relationship. ....
Continue reading "When a pub is fed up ... what's going on with the REAL R. Kelly show?" »
(Courtesy of www.conwaytwitty.com)
Country? Nah, we're really just slick pop singers. (Chapman Baehler)
Extreme (Courtesy of Billboard.com)
Call her Ms. Keys, please! (Courtesy of J Records)
(Courtesy of RockSTAR Music Corp.)
So much for my plan to post a CD review a day ...
... OK: to catch up a bit, here's some thought on a few recent releases that I've absorbed in between live shows, Cowboys and Mavs victories, trips to the gym and sleep:
Nicole Atkins, Neptune City (Red Ink/Columbia): I'm suspicious of any artist that Rolling Stone decides to anoint an Artist to Watch (and you should be, too), especially one that doesn't have a ton of pedigree. But this New Jersey native's quirky songwriting approaches -- alt-country, show tunes, lounge jazz and folk punk are just a few more evident influences -- combined with her winsome and fluttery voice (she reminds me of Suzanne Vega with vibrato chops) are novel and intriguing. Standout tracks: "Maybe Tonight" and "Love Surreal." I concur: keep and eye on Ms. Atkins. She's not Colbie Caillat, but she's got more than one good song in her.
Though I'd rarely seen them listed at local watering-hole gigs over the years, local "red-dirt rockin' heavy head blues" band Scarsboy may be about to win a national contest sponsired by Irish distiller Boru Vodka.
The showdown: the Defend the Bar Band contest, which aims to identify the best bar band in the country (and promote some clear potato-based liqeur from a country that really has no business making vodka). Scarsboy made the final four with this song and a very succinct bio, and if it wins it gets ten grand in gear and a Roadrunner Records recording contract.
Sure, it'd be cool for a local act to win this. But just so they know: the real best bar band in the area used to be Speedtrucker, and now it's this act.
Sara Watkins, Chris Thile and Sean Watkins say buh-bye. Boo-hoo! (Danny Clinch)
(Courtesy of Mute/Virgin Records)
Errr ... wrong blog? Naww, this is the right one ...
I took in the last hour of ZZ Top's shotgun show at Nokia Theatre last night, expecting fireworks, megawatts of flashing lights, vintage hot rods and women who know how to use their legs. I really saw only one of those things (the cars), and most of those were parked outside.
For a band that's known for milking the "everything's bigger in Texas" aesthetic for every ounce that it's worth, ZZ Top's DVD filming session at Nokia was disarmingly subdued. The stage setup was minimal though cool: dual asymmetrical tweed-colored amp stacks, an LED-curtain backdrop and big rig exhaust pipe-look mike stands that doubled as tube lights. The crowd was subdued, too, considering that they all knew they were being filmed; that the average age was in the 40s definitely had something to do with it. Guitarist Billy Gibbons appeared a tad frustrated with it, too: "Help me out here, just once," he pleaded just before playing "Gimme All Your Lovin'".
The two-hour set's second half had glitches as well as highlights, too. The bad: Mr. Gibbons let his verse chords ring during "Sharp Dressed Man," robbing the song of much of its drama; "Rough Boy" came off as half-conceived, especially since portions of the crowd decided to sit or leave; feedback and poor soundboard work ruined the set's closer, "Legs." The good: Mr. Gibbons' awesome slide playing during "Just Got Paid" and a terrific closing medley of "Tube Snake Boogie," "La Grange" and "Tush."
Bronx J.Lo, not Brooklyn Jenny! (Rex C. Curry/Special to DMN)
Those of you who attended the concert Tuesday night ... what did you think? Comment below.
The Pink: Left to right - Rick Wright, David Gilmour and Nick Mason (Courtesy of billboard.com)
She's bulletproof, baby! (Eric Thayer)
(Courtesy)
With Radiohead's online self-release of its new studio material, In Rainbows (one word: wow), and Madonna's abandonment of her traditional music label for a multi-album, multi-concert-tour, multi-merch, multi-baby-adoption (er, wait: I'm doublechecking ... OK, nix that last part) deal with Live Nation, the music biz continues its chaotic reformation.
I think of it differently. In my mind, this is the first time in recorded music history that the artists themselves have had a shot at defining, en masse, how their product is presented and offered for mass consumption. Think about it ...
I checked out System of a Down front man Serj Tankian's solo gig at the Granada Theater last night ... and was a little underwhelmed. Except for the encore.
The songs are as has been described in other sources; like System of a Down turned down to about 7 instead of 10, but with more direct political and personal content and less sheer and gratutitous goofiness. On-a-dime dynamics changes, intriguing pacing and Mr. Tankian's monophonic and wavy Armenian folk-inspired singing are all part of his deal by his lonesome. Mr. Tankian's stage presence was authoritative, but he rarely escaped from an stolid and statuesque -- dare I say operatic? I do! -- stage-front stance during the set's nine songs, and that was not offset by his relatively static but hyper-taut backing band, the F.C.C. (Primus' Larry LaLonde was his usual bashful and supportive self to Mr. Tankian's left). Also, Mr. Tankian's voice was not always on key, though with some of the leaps he had to make, that's somewhat understandable
Unless you're used to SoaD's whippy dynamics and Ritalin-like lyrical pathways, Mr. Tankian's songs are frequently difficult to follow unless you've ingested the content. Thing is, that was impossible; Elect the Dead came out today (though copies were available at the merch booth last night. Ah, the luxuries of owning your own imprint).
But the encore was notable. He did an obtuse cover of the Beatles' "Girl" that sounded like it was meant for an imaginary soundtrack to Maurice Sendak's Where the Wild Things Are if Tim Burton had directed it. And his swan song, a piano-only version of the new CD's title cut, wrapped the gig calmly just a hair past 10:15 p.m.
But the bonus happened after all of that. Mr. Tankian's already had five videos commissioned for songs on Elect the Dead (The first single, "Empty Walls," is already a top 10 mainstream rock hit and its superbly crafty kiddie-staffed video is No. 5 on iTunes' Rock Music Video download list). He had all five projected on the Granada's screens. About a third of the 750 or so that saw the show stayed behind to watch.
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Yeah, I'm a night owl. A major night owl. My usual bedtime? 2 a.m., later on nights that I see a show. Which these days are most.
So here's what I'm thinking; I'll post a random beddie-bye-time blog item as often I have the lucidity (most of the time) and the sobriety (almost always; I'm not a heavy drinker). Maybe getting some of these twisted music-biz thoughts of of my head will help with R.E.M. Sleep, that is ...
Today: Waffle House. Kid Rock gets arrested at one in Atlanta on Sunday for a brawl 'tween concerts defending a guest's honor. Then on Monday Night Football tonight, I hear Tony Kornheiser defending (sort of; he doesn't defend so much as snort out excuses) his 2005 quip about Jacksonville, Fla. being overrun by the cut-rate breakfast-eatery chain, for which he's been threatened with bodily scrambling by Jaguars fans.
Is Waffle House the new cool place to get banned from? Nawww. I know of many, many musicians for which Waffle House is a godsend since it offers up a decent, inexpensive and reliable meal after an ultra-late gig. The one near the hotel that I stayed at during South by Southwest in Austin in March was packed with bands every night -- and it was five miles from downtown. Plus: most locations maintain a jukebox with honest-to-goodness 45-rpm singles ready to spin. Now that's cool.
But get this: I recently received a promotional limited-edition bobblehead figurine of Bert Thornton, the Waffle House chef that concocted the chain's famed Bert's Chili 35 years ago. See, the chain commissions songs about its menu -- many are on those aforementioned jukeboxes -- and there's a new one about Bert by this guy. Thing is, I can't help but think that maybe the doll should have been an inflatable punching dummy ... or maybe a Whoopie cushion ... OK, bedtime. :)
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I cannot overemphasize how wonderfully uplifting Saturday's Carter Albrecht Memorial Concert was at the Granada Theater.
First: the mood was so social and familial, the event seemed more like a reunion than a remembrance. Famous-beyond-Dallas figures such as Old 97's front man Rhett Miller and the Drams signal caller Brent Best mingled freely with the attendees; even Carter's father, Kenneth, made rounds outside the theater. Everyone was approachable, and everyone I encountered was in at least controlled spirits.
That's not to say that there wasn't an undercurrent of mourning and solemnity. There was, but it was manifested most on stage instead of in public.
Cater Albrecht fans listen to Sorta at the sold-out concert. (Rex C. Curry / Special to DMN)
Two things impressed me the most about the event: Though many of the same video and audio tributes that appeared at his church memorial on Sept. 7 were played in between acts, those inside the theater stopped visiting to listen and watch when they were shown. Respect was paid properly by Dallasites usually known for talking over such diversions.
Also, that the event drew in so many of the city's music cognoscenti speaks to a side effect of Carter's passing that bodes tremendously well for the Carter Albrecht Music Foundation's mission to make Dallas a "destination" city for music. The indie-rock, alt-country and singer-songwriter scenes have coalesced to a degree that, in my mind, hasn't been experienced since the early-1990s halcyon days of Deep Ellum. A genuine sense of community existed at the Granada on Saturday night, and we can only hope it continues.
A side note: though Sorta has finished its album without Carter, the future of the band may be in jeopardy anyway. I overheard Ward Williams saying that he's contemplating a move to Nashville. Stay tuned ...
Sometimes having to leave a gig early to file a review really, really reeks.
Reader Cliff filled me in on what went down during Ryan Adams' second set, which I missed because of a deadline for this, on Friday at McFarlin Auditorium. Turns out Mr. Adams played a little superhero game:
Says Cliff: "Ryan comes out in a muscle shirt and "Batman-y" wrist straps and does some "Ode to Judas Priest" bit for a couple of songs including the great "Goodnight Hollywood Boulevard." Then he says, "I feel a little vulnerable now" and runs off stage to change into a different outfit. The band vamped with a horrendous joke and time chatting with the crowd." "
The gig was already stellar, and Mr. Adams' stream-of-consciousness interplay on stage had already won over the throng. Looks like he made some more fans during the second set, which Cliff called "just wonderful. Far less guitar noodling and time between songs…he really was outstanding."
Best-selling hip hop artist Kanye West will perform during the opening night of the LG Action Sports Championships on Nov. 9 at Reunion Arena in Dallas. The three-day national extreme-sports competition features BMX, inline-skating and skateboarding contests punctuated by performances by music artists each day. Ludacris and Cartel are other big-name acts scheduled to perform on Saturday and Sunday, respectively; Deftones headlined the opening night of last year’s inaugural event in 2006.
The Action Sports Championships is going head-to-head with the annual Texas Stampede pro rodeo contest and fundraiser at American Airlines Center; modern rock titan Daughtry is slated to perform on the same night that Mr. West will take Reunion’s stage, and other performers there include young country guns Josh Turner and Kellie Pickler on Sunday. Tickets for both events are on sale through Ticketmaster.
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From left: Maya Ford, Torry Castellano, Brett Anderson, Allison Robertson (Neil Zlozower)
Bassist Maya Ford is undoubtedly the Donnas' black sheep. She's always been that (want proof now? See this), and not chiefly because of the vanity-related reasons some might think. Her odd behavior and gothic-American Indian getup at last night's gig crassly and succinctly derailed the set on numerous occasions.
One instance: after the band ran satisfactorily through "Like an Animal," a cut off its new indie CD, Bitchin', Ms. Ford appeared as if she was about to bite the head off of her microphone. Instead, she beat singer and Christina Ricci lookalike Brett Anderson to her charged punch by asking the audience this in a craggy, drill-sargeant-on-smack tone: "Hey! Do you wanna get me high? Do you wanna help get me high? Tonight? C'mon?!"
There were no takers. She paused, then stepped back, and Ms. Anderson awkwardly took over by announcing the next song: "You Wanna Get Me High," off of the 2002 disc Spend the Night. A-ha.
This line didn't make the print review, but it would have run if there was space: she "sounded like Bobcat Goldthwaite as a pirate right after swallowing Bloom County’s Bill the Cat." Arrrr.
Now I understand that the gals have been a band since junior high school, and they're basically joined at the hip since they're still close friends. But to get any better, something's gotta be done about Miss Emo Tonto.
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This could be Nostradamus' predicted Third Antichrist. Scary. Well, actually it's Posh. Oh, never mind. (Courtesy)
Victoria's Secret, founded in the late 1970s as an alternative to uncomfortable department-store lingerie shopping, is America's largest undies dealer by the early 1990s. It goes into overdrive as it starts using supermodels in its catalog and advertising. Soon afterward, the Spice Girls, founded in 1994 as an alternative to the uncomfortably droll British pop music scene and featuring one Victoria Adams as Posh Spice, is the world's top pop act for two solid years.
Then, the Spice Girls go under, and Victoria's Secret goes on cruise control. The former Posh Spice marries this ball-kicking bloke named David Beckham, a.k.a. the best soccer player in the world and one of the globe's most recognizable sports figures, and has his kids. V.S. keeps the ship steady and refuses to allow celebrities to model its wares. Profits soar.
In 2007, the Spice Girls reunite, record two new songs and plan a world tour -- but not until after Poshy-poo has moved to L.A. so that her beau can help save American pro soccer. Then, today's announcement that Victoria's Secret will roll like Starbucks and be the U.S.'s lone retailer for Spice Girls: Greatest Hits, which will be released on Nov. 13, and that v2.0 of the whirly-girl pop act will make its TV debut during the 2007 Victoria's Secret Fashion Show on Dec. 4 on CBS.
I smell a conspiracy. I think Victoria Beckham is bent on world domination. Be very, very afraid. Or spicy, because resistance will be futile.
Billboard.com reports that seminal British punk band the Sex Pistols are finally acqiescing to the times and allowing Never Mind the Bullocks ... Here's the Sex Pistols to be available on iTunes beginning today.
Not that this is truly news. The band's surviving members (minus Sid Vicious, of course) re-recorded "Anarchy in the U.K." and "Pretty Vacant" for use in the upcoming Activision video game Guitar Hero III: Legends of Rock (the original masters were lost in a London fire many years ago), so it's not like the old farts had no clue what the internet was. It does -- especially cantankerous L.A. radio host John Lydon, known to most as Johnny Rotten -- and it's savvy enough to know how to market itself as critical cogs in rock history's annals.
But that move just isn't, well, punk. This is even less so: the reunited band will perform on The Tonight Show With Jay Leno on Oct. 30 and on The Late Late Show With Craig Ferguson (the Scottish host is himself a former punk rocker) on Halloween, six days after performing at a private Roxy show sponsored by Mr. Lydon's radio station, Activision and upstart cell-phone company Helio on Oct. 25. Never mind the bullocks, here's the greenbacks!
Retire? I can't retire! (Mark J. Terrill)
I just can't stop screaming! (Courtesy)
... ugh. HATE it when I get behind!:
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Saturday's Carter Albrecht Memorial Concert at the Granada Theater is turning out to be a doozy.
First selling point: Dallas' dreamiest alt-country sons, the Old 97's (yep, the comma's still in the name these days, folks) is headlining it. The Old 97's sold out House of Blues' Music Hall, which holds 600 more patrons than the 1,000-capacity Granada, back in May. Shaaa!
Second: Sorta -- the band that Mr. Albrecht was so intimately intertwined in when he was shot dead through a door on Labor Day -- will perform for the first time since his passing. And word on the street is that the nearly completed next Sorta CD is now actually completed. I'm still in awe that has come to pass already.
Third: all proceeds will benefit the Carter Albrecht Music Foundation, which now has at least one defined aim; to aid emerging and independent Dallas-area pop music talent in both obtaining and paying for studio time to make and distribute recordings. Sensational, I say.
Finally: the roster below the headliners is crazy strong: the Drams (or: Slobberbone, v2.0), Salim Nourallah (the city's best songwriter, and a kind man to boot), Stephen Collins of Deadman (post-alt morosity a la Gram Parsons; and boy, does a set by this guy fit here) and Chris Holt's super new project, the Slack.
Get yer 30-buck passes quick, folks. If you still can.
Don't look now, Dallasites, but your suburbs have spawned a major-label emo-pop phenomenon. At least that's the hope for Universal Motown Records Group, which signed Forever the Sickest Kids in April. The six sufficiently adorable mop-haired laddies -- and honorable, too: three are former students at Dallas Baptist University -- are headlining yet another of Plano Centre's semi-underground emo-pop concerts tonight. The band's already developed a sizable regional fan base through peer-to-peer file sharing, MySpace.com and other teenager-approved digital-word-of-mouth methodology as well as an EP, Television Off, Party On, launched in July.
Funny fact: Plano Centre's web site doesn't mention the show, during which six other bands, including fellow incubating boy-rock acts Ivoryline (53,500 MySpace friends, from Tyler, Texas), Karate High School (42,300 friends; from San Fran) and the Dollyrots (15,000, from L.A.) are on the underage undercard for FtSK (53,100 and climbing FAST). Curious, children? The show starts in about half an hour, and door tix should be $12.
It's no secret that Blackout is being blackballed by some. Image-conscious radio is showing neither love nor air time to Britney Spears and her upcoming CD's hit, "Gimme More." (Yes, it's a hit: it's No. 3 on the Billboard Hot 100 chart almost solely due to digital downloads).
Yet there's a second victim: J.Lo. "Do it Well," the first single off of Jennifer Lopez's three-day-old English-language album Brave, is also being shunned by dance and Top 40 radio.
This raises a couple of issues for me. First, this is proof that radio can break and maintain a major music artist but can't kill one, at least in the short term (and especially if said artist has a reputation beyond that of just a musician). I mean, sheesh; Bruce Springsteen's Magic sold 335,000 copies in its first week with no airplay except on satellite radio, and I bet it goes platinum by early 2008 if not before. Second, radio may be at least as fickle, bloated and holier-than-thou as the major labels are. If people want to hear a song that's obviously doing at least decently -- for whatever reason and through whatever medium -- wouldn't they want to play it? Aren't they missing out on potential listeners (and, therefore, ratings points and ad revenue)?
Don't get me wrong: "Gimme More" is a horrible track, and though I haven't heard J.Lo's single yet, I'm betting that it's humdrum. But a critical part of a working capitalist economic model, even in the digital age, is giving people what they want, and radio appears to not be doing that. At least this week.
Christy, Mike....No, I don't polka. Never have. Not sure I could jig with it. But I do salsa, baby! I'm a Cuban boy and I can salsa with the best of them. I can merengue dance, too! Put on some Celia Cruz or Hector Lavoe, then switch to vintage Juan Luis Guerra and I'm moving. HA!
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Dig the '70s-hued CD cover! (Courtesy)
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(Cartoon Network)
It started with Alvin and the Chipmunks waaay back in the late 1950s. It reached its peak with Gorillaz just a couple of years ago. But in this increasingly digital age, what's the future of the virtual band?
Pretty bright, it appears. The newest animated music act, Dethklok from Adult Swim's year-old animated black-comedy series, Metalocalypse, represents a fringe-frayed subgenre compared to the funk- and dub-rubbed electronic dance of the Grammy-winning Gorillaz (which, by the way, hasn't won as many as Alvin and co., whose creator, Ross Bagdasarian, won two in 1959 for sound engineering). But Dethklok's debut, The Dethalbum, sold 34,000 units in the U.S. last week and debuted at No. 21 on the Billboard 200 album chart today, making it one of the highest-charting death metal album ever in America.
That's right: a fake band is apparently more popular than most of the real ones of its ilk here (not that many death metal bands aren't already caricatures in many respects already, heh). But here's the scary part: there will be a Dethklok live tour, supposedly featuring Metalocalypse co-creator (and guitar shredder; he shows axe wielders everywhere how to play Metalocalypse's theme song here) Brendon Small and former Death/Dark Angel drummer (and Dallas native) Gene Hoglan. At least Gorillaz have given the duo some kooky ideas in that respect.
Neat-o music-broadcast bit of the day: HDNet documented Lindsey Buckingham's sold-out Jan. 27 concert at Bass Performance Hall in Fort Worth, and the hi-def channel will premiere the performance on Oct. 14 at 8 p.m.
For those that weren't there: "Lindsey Buckingham -- Live at the Bass Performance Hall" features Fleetwood Mac's mack daddy performing mostly acoustic versions of both his own and FM hits, including "Tusk," "Go Your Own Way" and "Big Love." Of course a few cuts are from his most recent solo foray, Under the Skin. But don't let that dissuade you from watching if you're fortunate to have HDNet and a 1080i flat-screen.
Since R.E.M. is debuting a new song, "Until the Day is Done," on CNN's Anderson Cooper 360 tonight at 9 p.m. (or so, since the show's an hour long), and since AC360 debuted an R.E.M. video for the single "Bad Day" back in 2002, Playlist figures that the metrosexual talking head must have a man-crush on Michael Stipe.
Some deets: the song is from a just-completed new R.E.M. album that will hit stores in 2008. It will also accompany a four-hour CNN documentary about the globe's environmental crises, "Planet in Peril," that's narrated by Mr. Cooper and that premieres on Oct. 23 at 8 p.m.
Random related thought: is Mr. Stipe still bummed that he lost the simmering alterna-softie sex symbol war with Bono back in the 1980s? I mean, shoot: Bono's been nominated for a freakin' Nobel Peace Prize, and Mr. Stipe's ... well ... just occasionally noble.
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Mike, she can try to "blackout" all the years of her life that she wants to. But let me tell you, a CD title just ain't gonna do it. If rehab, divorce, motherhood and MTV embarrassment didn't do it, a CD title sure isn't.
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I didn't get a chance to fit in any words about the Meat Puppets' opening gig in my review of Sonic Youth's concert at the House of Blues last night (which, by the way, is easily one of the three best concerts I've seen this year). It was as significant an event as Sonic Youth's appearance in Dallas -- which will be its last anywhere for a while as Thurston Moore kicks off a U.S. and European tour for his new solo effort, Trees Outside the Academy, in a couple of weeks.
Why? Because the band, now based in Austin and once one of cowpunk's more melodic and high-quality (albeit star-crossed) outfits, is no longer simply a vehicle for Curt Kirkwood's post-'Pups output. Founding brother Cris is back after kicking a years-long and near-fatal drug habit. He did it the hard way, too: spending more than a year in Arizona State Prison for felony assault, during which he was shot in the stomach by a U.S. Post Office security guard after attacking him with the officer's own baton.
The 'Pups sounded decent on Sunday night. Curt's guitar work is as novel as ever -- his sound is somewhere between Mark Knopfler and a psychedelic J. Mascis if he were raised in the Southwest instead of Massachusetts -- though he tends to be stuffy and morose on stage. Maybe he's offsetting Cris, because the skinny hard-luck brother both looked and flopped around like a giddy homeless Vietnam war vet, and his crunched-in face appears downright frightening when he wants it to (he feigned a trip about a third of the way through the band's 45-minute set, and JEEZ was he convincing). His bass work was marginal at best ... but that somehow added an air of endearing melancholy to Meat Puppets' otherwise straight-ahead set of plucky noise rock.
For the curious: Meat Puppets will be headlining its own appearance at House of Blues' Cambridge Room on Nov. 16; it booked the gig just yesterday. Or: pick up its comeback CD, Rise To Your Knees, which is actually quite good.
Call him Santeria Elvis (www.myspace.com/spyche)
P.S. For the Hispanic set, we'll call him Santeria Elvis.
Gary Goldberg, a photography professor at Midwewstern State University in Wichita Falls, has spent the past four years shooting and compiling casual outdoor portraits of Texas' regional country, folk and Americana musicians. He's been so engulfed by the project, he took developmental leave from his employer at one point to complete the project. The resulting exhibit, "Texas Singer-Songwriters: An Americana Portrait," looks to be a fascinating winner as it takes up the Irving Arts Center's Main Gallery for a month beginning Saturday.
He focused on 100 musicians and shot more than 10,000 images, but cut the final exhibit's subjects in half to 50. Accompanied by music snippets and biographical trivia bits written by Shelby Morrison, a curator at the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame and Museum, the exhibit is a treat for anyone fond of Texas' roots music.
The subjects range from the internationally revered (Willie Nelson, Delbert McClinton, Kinky Friedman) and freshly famous (Pat Green, Jack Ingram) to the barely emerging (Hayes Carll, Becca Dalrymple, Max Stalling) and criminally overlooked (Joe Ely, Jon Dee Graham, Butch Hancock). Yes, there are some glaring omissions (Where the heck is Bruce Robison if Kelly Willis is represented?), but taking in this exhibit is a fine way to famillarize oneself with the richness of this state's down-and-dirty musical aesthetic. The exhibit's up through Nov. 4, and admission is free.
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Those that missed my review of cathartic Long Island post-screamo outfit Brand New's show in March at the Ridglea Theater in Fort Worth should be ashamed. Its show at the 1,600-capacity Music Hall at House of Blues sold out late last weekend, six weeks before the Nov. 11 appearance, so you're scot out of luck now.
Granted, primary openers Thrice have gained a higher profile now that the follow-up to Vheissu is nigh, so its presence on the bill surely helped ticket sales. But that Brand New gig in Cowtown is still the best concert I've seen this year (that show sold out the 1,000-capacity Ridglea a few weeks in advance as well), and the fact that it has gained such a following with virtually no press or radio presence is a testament to the power of both word of mouth and the internet (uh, word of keyboard?)
Actually, three of the 'new guard' of hard rock's most endearing live bands are playing at House of Blues within five days of each other. In addition to Brand New's date, New Orleans-conceived post-popsters Mute Math will take it over on Nov. 10 (with Tyler-sourced all-in-the-family outfit Eisley as the opener), and the proggy collective Coheed and Cambria wil engulf it on Nov. 15, after releasing the last chapter of its four-album sci-fi concept story, No World For Tomorrow, on Oct. 23.
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A fledgling Ellum: Onstage appeared was pretty precocious when it conceived last March's under-attended North By Southwest music festival at Life in Deep Ellum. That venue, which has been re-organized and is now dubbed Live@Mokah (the church-initiated, soon-to-be autonomous community center has a coffeeshop called Mokah Coffee Bar), is thinking big again.
The Mokah Music Summit & Showcase (M2S2) has a better chance of immediate flight thanks to the involvement of the Carter Albrecht Music Foundation, though. Formed by Ken Albrecht as a way to continue the music scene-nurturing legacy of his slain son, local musican Carter Albrecht, the foundation will eventually be a major beneficiary of the event, which wants to serve as an annual summit on the state of Dallas indie music community.
Set to occur during three weekends in November, the event will have a local-band competition (top prizes include pro video and photo shoots as well as 10 hours of studio time at Crystal Clear Studios) as well as discussions among pros, musicians and fans on scene issues. The first two days (Nov. 9 and Nov. 16) will feature band-contest semifinals and open moderated forums for topic discussion. The final day (Nov. 30) will be the band-battle finals and a summit with topics determined from the previous days' talks.
The Albrecht connection should attract a few major local indie acts to the performance and appearance fold (and yours truly will serve as a judge for the band finals). At next month's inaugural version, a Carter Albrecht Award will be announced that'll be given out yearly. Now, the venue's looking for bands to compete (and so am I, actually; the more, the merrier!). Interested acts must have three original recorded songs posted somewhere online (MySpace, or elsewhere) or mail-able to M2S2's organizers; the submission rules are here, and deadline is Oct. 17.
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Lyle has left his mark. (Steve Hopson Photography)
Missed Friday, so I'll include an extra "behind the door" late this afternoon as well as one for good luck (and the fact that Sept. 25 had so many notable releases ... I'm not even gonna get to Matt Pond PA (oddly serene and beard-worthy), Bettye LaVette (oooh, good stripped-down soul), Dethklok (heavy as heck in a goofy Spinal Tap-meets-Danzig-by-way-of-Deicide kind of way), Raul Midon (meh), Small Sins ... ) Man. Anyone know where I can buy an extra day? Or maybe how I can listen to music while sleeping? I'm keeping these short, too ...
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Thom Yorke's never been accused of thinking conventionally, that's for sure. But even in this new age of music-biz decentralization, his method of releasing Radiohead's new studio album, In Rainbows, next week is kinda kooky.
First off, the music will be made public on Oct. 10, which is a Wednesday instead of the traditional Tuesday. OK; Mr. Yorke wants attention; we can't fault him for that.
On that day, the album's 10 tracks will be released on this web site as a DRM-free (no digital copyright tags, folks!) mp3 download. That's not all that unusual ... but this is: the band is going all Priceline on us by suggesting that purchasers name their own price for the tracks. The traditional CD won't hit stores until early 2008, since the band is still without a label after leaving EMI in 2005.
Then there's the special-edition "Discbox" of the album, which will include two CDs -- one of the album and another with seven additional songs as well as digital photos, artwork and lyrics -- as well as two vinyl discs of the aural content for lo-fi turntable freaks. It won't be available until "on or before Dec. 3," according to the band's web site -- meaning that most fans will buy the digital download to get the new music first, then shell out 40 pounds more (that's about $80 these days; yes, the British Pound pounds ya hard) for the Discbox. And no, that price isn't negotiable.
Finally (and this matter little to y'all civvies): no advance copies of In Rainbows are available. To anyone. Even Radiohead's publicist won't hear the new stuff until Oct. 10. At least the band tested a good chunk of the content live last year.
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So country singer Sara Evans' ugly, very public divorce from estranged husband Craig Schelske is now final. This statement just in from her Nashville publicist: "The parties have agreed that it is in their best interests and those of their children to amicably resolve all issues in their pending divorce. Each wishes the other well in all future endeavors. Both parties are fully committed to raising their children in a cooperative and positive way. Both parties are loving and caring parents. They request that everyone respect the family’s privacy. The parties will have no further comment regarding any allegations of fault or misconduct alleged by either party in these divorce proceedings." Meanwhile, Ms. Evans' Greatest Hits CD comes out Oct. 9. Gotta make nice-nice so folks will buy the new record.
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It turns out that Velvet Revolver performed not one Guns N' Roses cover (as stated in my less-than-kind review here) at its concert on Thursday at Smirnoff Music Center, but three. I mentioned "Patience"; the band threw out "Mr. Brownstone" and "It's So Easy" as well after I'd left at the end of VR's 2004 hit "Fall to Pieces" to file my review on deadline.
I ran with that because Slash told me on Wednesday that the band "only had room to fit in" two covers by Stone Temple Pilots (lead singer Scott Weiland's former charge) and one by GnR in its set. What he apparently meant was that VR has added those to the covers already in its song plan.
My bad for not clarifying that with Slash and taking that as gospel in my review. It's not my bad for not being enthusiastic about the show. I've seen VR four times live, including its 2005 Ozzfest turn at Smirnoff, which very nearly stole that festival's stage. As I told a reader earlier: "I won't give a band credit in print when it doesn't return with near the same energy or flow, especially on its own headlining tour and with better original songs in its pocket."
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Joni Mitchell, Shine (Hear Music): I'm going to resist talking about the hypocrisy of Ms. Mitchell, who'd retired from music for a while because of her perceptions about its corporate aims, signing to Starbucks' music label (and the fact that Paul McCartney was the first to release a CD on it is a signal that mayyybe the situation isn't as prickly as it seems on its face). But her reputation as a maverick isn't bolstered by this elegant but wonky and ground-down collection, which only resembles her folk-hero heyday in its high-minded and progressive lyrical content. Shine continues her forays into light jazz -- which I'll grant does showcase her graceful songwriting prowess better -- and its applications to other arts that she now pursues (namely, visual art and dance; "If," "If I Had a Heart" and a redux of "Big Yellow Taxi" all appeared in a ballet that she penned recently). But as presented, this jazz fits better in a coffeehouse (surprise!) than a new-age, SoHo-basement bungalow lounge; the horns, guitars, keys and Ms. Mitchell's wrinkled but meditative voice are all stirred into an underflavored mocha in need of an extra shot. Not that this album is bad -- it's far from it. But one has to concentrate way too intently to pick out Ms. Mitchell's complex melodies, nuanced singing and craftily placed fills (oh, the journey that the title tracks provides is reason enough to buy it as an online single). And you can't do that in a freakin' Starbucks.
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Down, Over the Under (ILG/Warner Music Group): When Pantera split way back when, the Abbott brothers stayed in one camp and the two others -- vocalist Phil Anselmo and bassist Rex Brown -- pretty much went waaay the other way. Both are New Orleans natives, and they'd already been stepping out of Pantera's scream-triggered rat-a-tat beatbox with Down, a manufacturer of gigantic and lumbering walls of classic-seared Southern sludge metal with members from two other New Orleans bands: Corrosion of Conformity and Crowbar. It was a side project for all involved until Katrina hit more than two years ago. Over the Under is the act's third product (and first post-devastation), and its the first that actually sounds cohesive and thought-out enough to seem like a full-time band created it. Compared with the first two Down discs, this one has enough well-planned layers (doom, stoner, Southern rock, even bits of grunge) and structured and consistent melodies to keep a listener intrigued. And the biggest surprise of all is Mr. Anselmo, who's sounding like a cross between Layne Staley, Chris Cornell and Ronnie Van Zant these days and screams very little. The playing is sloppy at times and the gloomy production clogs some songs' flow, but Over the Under is the calling card of a band now truly complete thanks to purpose borne from tragedy.
Thanks to three interviews today and a wish to nap before seeing two of the better hard rock bands in the country (High On Fire at the Granada and Burning Brides at Double Wide), I'm gonna delay today's Daily CD Review until tomorrow. One will be on Down's Down III - Over the Under; the other will likely be on Joni Mitchell's Shine.
A tease: both are worthy -- and believe it or not, for similar reasons.
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Acrassicauda, which claims to be the only Iraqi metal band in the world, is currently holed up in Syria (Hey! Maybe some of Saddam's WMDs did end up there!), unable to perform in its home country because of death threats by the country's religious factions. (Many apparently believe the band, which idolizes Slipknot, Slayer and Metallica, practices Satanism ... gee, I wonder where they got that idea?).
Anyway, the band is the subject of the feature documentary Heavy Metal In Baghdad, which premiered earlier this month at the Toronto International Film Festival. Now the film's producers, VICE Films, are trying to keep Acrassicauda from being sent back to 'Dad. The band's visas begin to expire on Oct. 10 (and by many accounts, Syria is quietly trying to rid itself of its Iraqi refugees), and VICE is trying to raise $20,000 to shuttle the band to a new country.
If you're so inclined -- and with the popularity of metal among American soldiers in Iraq, there should be plenty of interest and compulsion -- donations can be made here.
And since I'm sure that you're asking: Acrassicauda means "black scorpion" in Latin.
All three members of the eclectic Chicago-based garage rock act Oh My God suffered multiple bone fractures after a car jumped a median and hit its tour van in Ohio on Sept. 21. According to Lori Berk, the band's publicist, "The band hopes to resume playing in early 2008, depending on the results of the surgeries and recuperation."
Call me a masochist, but my first reaction to the news was, "I wonder if any of the band members yelled the band's name right before impact?"
OK. It's out. Let the co-worker and reader scolding begin ...
I'm gonna count the weekend as a day this week, since I've got two Sept. 18 releases with local interest to talk a bit about here. Tomorrow is new-release Tuesday, so I'll start with the obscene amount of Sept. 25 releases then. In the meantime ... :
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Yes, after all that live blogging, we made him write even more about it. Mwahaha.
• Review: Delays, glitches weaken Wall of Sound
What does a singer/songwriter/guitarist do when he loses his voice? He teams up with a talented friend whose pipes work just fine. Earlier this month Dallas troubaduor Colin Boyd was struck silent in the middle of a show (read the whole tale on his myspace page here). A six-night-a-week barroom and coffee house singer, he was ordered by his doctor to give it a rest. So on Saturday, he enlisted local songbird Tammy Lynn Roe for a gig at Highlands Cafe, who sounded lovely on several Boyd originals (though she couldn't figure out where to come in on one song). He handled guitar duties. I told him his plight makes a good story. He corrected me: It will make a good story when his voice comes back. He has already decided the six-night-a-week schedule is a thing of the past. The Colin Boyd Band's new album, Shine, is due out soon.
As Midlake plays a new song destined to be on its yet-to-be-recorded third album, I'll wrap up my blogging for the evening.
I'm staying for Explosions in the Sky, but you're going to have to catch my formal review in Monday's GuideLive to read my impressions on the current national standard bearers of instrumental shoegaze pop.
WoS still has problems with patron amenities, security (I saw one policeman on the grounds the entire evening, and the baseball field has trash strewn across it) and keeping performance times on schedule, but this is an event that needed to be held outdoors. Let's hope that the folks with the Fort Worth Cats allow Spune (who I'll be calling tomorrow to ask about the Midlake issue) to hold this here in 2008. La Grave Field really does work well, as long as this event doesn't draw more than three or four thousand. And it didn't appear to even reach four figures this year.
In some ways, the jazzy little Denton band that could is topping its performance at Austin City Limits six days ago. The band feels peppier and a little more deft than then, especially now as it plays its most well known song, "Roscoe."
But a couple of oddities are surely causing it consternation. Bassist Paul Alexander's tone is very thin, and hi instrument has little sustain, which signals an amplification issue. And to me, at least, the band is playing slightly too loud.
And we just got an explanation from lead singer Tim Smith for why it was late. "Sorry that we didn't go on earlier," he said. "We've got all sorts of issues happening."
And that's it; nice and nebulous, kind of like Midlake's soaring indie pop. Guitarist-keyboardist Eric Pulido added a thanks to Ghostland Observatory for swapping slots last minute, too. Yes, it was worth the wait.
Here's a curiousity. Ghostland Observatory isn't a good here as it was at Austin City Limits last weekend.
Don't get me wrong; its electro-funk is still good. Heck, it's great. But the lack of bodies here at WoS, the delays, the dubious sound system (the board op just turned the master volume down a good three decibels) and the shackled sense of drama here is reducing the act's effectiveness.
Ghostland's music is meant for large places: for massive throngs of sweaty, horny young stylin' adults to get their groove on to. Without that sense of sweep and insistence, this band loses a little poignancy.
Interesting tidbit that I learned about the band earlier; it's self-released it's recordings and charges more than the usual cost for wholesale purchases of its CDs. And the difference isn't peanuts, either; it's along the lines of three bucks per CD.
I still think that Ghostland is major-label worthy. But does the act revel in controlling its own destiny, or would it hand over its marketing and publicity reins to someone else?
Here's the verdict: Ghostland Observatory and Midlake have flipped time slots. Though frankly, it's basically as if we're back on time here, but the MC promised that Midlake would be playing after Ghostland.
Which begs the question: what's up with Midlake? It's here; I ran into guitarist Eric Pulido earlier, and its tour bus is on the premises. Is a member missing? We shall see ...
Well, now the main stages are 50 minutes behind schedule, thanks to Om and an extended turn by Pinback. And now, Midlake is taking its sweet time getting on stage. The sound was dialed in five minuetes ago, and the band jasn't made it onto the blue-bathed stage ...
What're they doing? Huddling up? Does one of them turn into a pumpkin at midnight? C'mon, guys ...
Wall of Sound has promise earliee today in terms of staying on time. Now, it's devolving into what it ended up being in 2006: late-running and somewhat contentious. Oy.
Oooh. This Massachusetts-by-way-of-NYC-and-North-Carolina duo is the first to use the video-display screens behind both main stages, and the vertically spliced visuals of animals and machines are tres cool. They accompany the Books' electro-gothic lullabies succinctly. Nick Zammuto and Paul de Jong's music is an acquired taste - it's not tremendously melodic, and it relies on a tapestry of voiceovers and seemingly random programmed effects and other aural flourishes.
But once past the experimental inderpinnings, it's haunting and pretty storybook stuff. One could picture the Books scoring a bevy of moody indie films, or perhaps contributing to more than its fair share of TV-show interlude scenes. It's currently playing a tune that interweaves a minstrel-esque acoustic lick with a swelling cello and a stampeding bass that makes me want to go skipping off into right field here. Aaaah.
I didn't expect this. Armistead Burwell Smith IV's indie pop outfit has always been among the genre's more obtuse and complicated listens, but live the band's rhythm section is solidifying the craziness that happens in the upper registers.
The effect is essentially transforming Pinback into a more thunderous and punchy dance band. Though if you wanted to dig on the interwoven harmonies and playground-free minor-chord workouts, they're there, too.
"Wheee!," Mr. Smith cries. Yep, he's at his playground, and he's one talented and gifted kid.
I gotta get me some of that. Whatever substances that these Denton spaz-rockers mainline before gigs, they must work really well.
I'm thinking Red Bull, spiked with herbal something or other. But I coulds be wrong ... heh.
The band looks like a trio of computer science majors who've skipped out on final exams to binge. They sound like Jimi Hendrix might have had he idolized T Rex and the Clash. Or: the B-52s without female representation and on so much speed that they swear that they're James Brown's indie-punk offspring.
It's set is sloppy, chaotic and almost masochistic in its looseness. But it's also energizing and attractive in a what-is-that-kooky-racket sort of way.
Om has performed for almost an hour on Stage One: the main-stage schedule is now almost a half-hour behind. Did Al Cisneros peeve Bobby Bare Jr. off so much that the latter has refused to perform now? p
Especially in indie-rock circles: why can't we all just get along?
No, wait. Mr. Bare, complete with his band's tenor sax and with daisy strings wrapped around his mike stand and amp stack, are doing a quick sound check.
Sounds like San Franciscoan Mr. Cisneros decided that the sound-check diss entitled him to an extra 25 minutes on stage. So why didn't the sound engineers just pull the plug on him, no matter how ornery and empowered he felt ...
Om. Yum. And Ow. Freaky stoner-pocketed stuff from this pair, who are the rhythm section for Sleep, one of the more trance-enhancing stoner rock outfits in the country.
Al Cisneros' Rickenbacker bass is so distorted and fuzzed out - on purpose, people! - that it's covering both the low and some of the high-end territory that's normally occupied by regular guitar. And drummer Chris Haikus is laying down beats so heavy that they threaten to pulverize the less-fortified eardrums of the country fans in the Stockyards about a mile north of here.
Mr. Cisneros is playing through two immense green speaker cabinets that would be entirely obscene if used by most other musicians. But here, his nasal vocal moans are totally indecipherable, flicked away as they are by his aggressive tone.
Om is significantly heavier than the Sword, and that's saying tons (pun quite intended, thank you). Criminy. Could Om be the heaviest act in America? It's the thickest music that I've heard live this year ... and this is coming from TWO MEN. Yes, the music is monotonous and relies on a very plebian 4/4 groove. But I feel 50 pounds heavier just standing here listening to it.
Whoa. And with attitude, too. "Could you not sound check during our set, please?," he snidely tells Bobby Bare Jr. and his band on the other main stage. It was not a kind request, either. Hey, now; aren't we all family here?
On Stage Two, the countrified pop of Brothers and Sisters is wafting out, and the only ones standing - even right at the front of the stage - are some folks playing Frisbee and a little pickup game of soccer.
The familial, music community-based feel of Wall of Sound is cool, to be sure. But it'll have to lose a lot of that to grow any bigger.
... "We're coming at you in mono tonight!," Noah Lit says. Yep: Oliver Future is at it without that left-hand P.A. speaker. Still sounds fine, since the small stage is, well, small and not very loud, so the band's own amps and speaker cabinets are filling things out.
These guys are kind of nerdy in an L.A. way. All are wearing black T-shirts - three are freakin' V-necks - and the bassist somehow felt the need to sport a red polo shirt to match his red bass. Guitarist Josh Lit's wearing a bowler hat that's too small for his head, too.
But man, this band's fun to hear play. It moved from Austin to L.A. in 2005, and hipster pop outlets out there are taking notice in Oliver Future's creepily melodic hyper-pop. It's first post-move release, "Pax Futura," has incredible potential, and frontman Noah Lit's got a whimsy in his pipes that simultaneously clashes with and soothes the band's crispy breakdowns and grooves.
One question, knowing that Oliver Future loves to play tiny holes-in-the-wall like the Cavern in Dallas and the Wreck Room and the Moon in Fort Worth: Why is it on the third stage? It should be on one of the two main stages here ...
I blogged too soon. Stage Three is now a half hour behind schedule because of a blown P.A. speaker. A replacement is en route. "Give us seven minutes," said a fest staffer. "We have Oliver Future coming up, and we want to do this right. So sit tight."
Some aren't; they're wandering away to mingle (lots of that going on here). But about 40 folks are parked on a knoll between the stage and the stadium's home plate wall, waiting socially.
Attendance is picking up, too, as the day begins to cool off and the bigger acts come closer to their set times. But it's not drastic; I'd say 800 or so are here. About 700 advance tickets were sold for Wall of Sound, and at 35 smackers at the gate, I'm thinking that there aren't gonna be a mass of walk-ups tonight ... especially since at this point, the event's more than half over.
Think of a combination of Chris Isaak and Johnny Cash, but with a disposition much more melancholy and shattered than either, and you'd have Abilene native Micah P. Hinson. "Somebody robbed my car the other day and stole all my stuff," he laments apologetically on stage.
He hasn't caught many breaks in life; he'd been a drug addict, been broke and served jail time by age 20. And his morose, minimalist music refects that; his songs come off as written as self-effacing cowboy dirges in a cramped mobile-home bedroom. It's an acquired taste, and somewhat unusual for Wall of Sound ... but the new dimension is oddly refreshing, even if Mr. Hinson's peeformance has the poise of a wilting sunflower.
... I and several dozen other concertgoers are extinguishing cigs on the outfield grass at La Grave Field. It hurts for me do it, as much as I worshipped baseball as a kid and as a player ... but hey, this is rock and ROLL! (and don't worry; I'm throwing away the butts in a proper receptacle).
Here's one thing that's evidently changed from last year; the bands are actually about five minutes ahead of schedule here, instead of grossly behind schedule as they were in 2006.
That means that fantastical Austin heritage-metal act the Sword took the stage at 5:25 p.m. It opened with a solitary song from last year's debut, "Age of Winters," and has lauched into a showcase of "all-new jams," said singer J.D. Cronise. (The band's got a new bassist, too, apparently). The fresh cuts have more dual-guitar interplay and blast just as monolithically as "Age of Winters"' national buzz-generating metal did. Sweeet.
Intrigiung. Chris Flemmons and Steven Hill's oddball mix of country, folk and indie has a certain down-home mysticism about it ... kind of as if Weezer spent a year in a West Virginia mining village with nothing but a synthesizer, a blown speaker and a supply of beef jerky for sustenance.
It's dynamic - as delicate as a sleeping sheep dog at times and as ferocious as an Arizona coyote at others - but it reverts to juvenile wheeziness too much for me. It's sound is just a bit too frayed and ratty, too. Maybe it's better recorded.
Cool setup: the local-music-happy Granada Theater's got a tent here complete with misters, seats, an automatic bubble machine and an air mattress. Owner Michael Schoder's already confessed to taking a nap on it earlier, having had to be here at 9 a.m. after presiding over Macon Greyson's CD-release show at his venue.
And actually, Wall of Sound's setup here isn't bad. For instance, shade can be had in the seats around the baseball diamond without a severe penalty regarding band volume or sightlines. But that third stage really should be more accessible both visually and aurally.
If Spune wants this event to grow like it envisions, two things have to happen: more concessions need to be made available, and word must spread better about it. It's got book higher-profile indie acts to attract more than the local-music cognocenti and a few college students.
Oooh. Fort Worth-based neo-wave act Black Tie Dynasty has a few equipment issues just now, forcing it to lose what momentum it'd built. Also: the wind is playing havoc on the strap-tied video backdrops behind the two primary stages; they're both swaying to and fro like a moored sailboat in a choppy harbor. Will they be used? We'll see.
The Paper Chase's drummer, Jason Garner, just threw up. "It's all for you!," the singer declared to the crowd. Let's hope that it was from outdoor overexertion and not from early-day overimbibing ... and not a sign of things to come here.
Quick note: one cool thing about local/regional fests such as this is that the band members wander in and out of the crowd all of the time. Heck, the artist's hospitality/warm-up tent is just over the four-foot-high right-center field wall.
I arrived at Spune Productions' third Wall of Sound Festival in Fort Worth about half an hour ago, and the crowd's sparse. Maybe 500 indie music fans are here, enjoying the cathartically funky-punky rock of Dallas' the Paper Chase.
Yeah, it's somewhat hot - right at about 90, I'd say - and there isn't a cloud around to spell the sun's wrath. But there's a light breeze blowing across the Fort Worth Cats' home baseball field, La Grave Field, which was opened in 2002 in between downtown and the Fort Worth Stockyards. It's a quaint and modern facility that feels like a Division 1 baseball facility in terms of size and amenities.
John Congleton's outfit is unusually heavy today; Bobby Weaver's bass is growling like an earthquake on Stage One, which is set up smack dab in center field. Stage 2 is right next to it in left-center: Tiny, sad-looking Stage 3 is outside of the stadium behind home plate (and there were maybe 10 people taking in Kissing Cousins out there).
Most hardcore local indie followers aren't exactly sun worshippers, of course, and these dog days are certainly keeping some away as Wall of Sound moves outdoors for the first time (I know of a few who won't be coming since it's hot). But a relatively varied lineup, ranting from indie crooner Ian Moore and stoner-metalers the Sword and Om to shoegazers Explosions in the Sky and electro-rock duo Ghostland Observatory, should draw more out than this. Right now, it's mostly band members, their friends and North Texas indie scenesters here now.
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Oh! You pretty thing (digital file)
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The other night I watched Less Than Zero again. I've got the DVD. It's one of my Top 10 fave movies of all time. For me, two of the film's songs epitomize the flick and the year in which it was made - 1987. The Bangles' cover of "Hazy Shade of Winter," which plays during the opening credits, encapsulates the late '80s and the deceptively glossy veneer at the surface of the story. Then there's LL Cool J's "Going Back to Cali," which cranks up while actors Andrew McCarthy and Jami Gertz are at a club. Ah the days when rap was fun, rhythmic and distinctive.
True, Mike, that's an unidentified rear end. Could be either male or female. That is part of the intrigue, of course. Either way, it's a, well, bitchin' CD cover.
I know, Mario; that's a fun-looking bum on Bitchin's purple-hazed cover. And it raises the same question that Get Lucky prompted from me and so many others way back in 1981: is that a male or a female stuffed into those tight leather pants? I know that I'm still undecided ...
Chad Kroeger of Nickelback tells Billboard.com that the band is in no hurry to follow 2005's mega-successful All the Right Reasons, which remains in the Top 10 of Billboard's album charts after 102 weeks. "We just finished up two years touring on this record, and we're all a little crispy," he says. Crispy, eh? Guess it's better than soggy. Read the entire story here.
Mike, I couldn't comment one iota on the Donnas' new CD. I have yet to hear one note of that band. But I'll tell you, that CD cover is SO cool. It reminds me of Loverboy's Get Lucky cover. I just dig it!
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Prolific and uber-cool (he was on the cover of Fader recently, hipsters) New Orleans rapper Lil Wayne's bringin' it to the people with this show. The End of Summer Blowout, featuring Mr. Wayne, his surrogate dad (Birdman, a.k.a. Cash Money Records CEO Bryan Williams) and Trae, is this Saturday at 8 p.m. at the Oil Palace in Tyler, which much more typically stages country, CCM and wrestling events.
So gas up the rim frame, peeps; you'll have a 125-mile drive due east ahead of you to see Weezy. One way. Though since Lil Wayne's fan club organized this concert, at least it's a reasonably safe bet that he'll show up. That, and he's got an upcoming project to start touting: Tha Carter III (out in early December).
I figured that Kanye West's Graduation woud outsell 50 Cent's Curtis during the first week of each's release by about 150,000 copies,a and that Graduation would top out at about 700,000. Mr. West's work simply appeals to a broader type of music fan, and the hype surrounding the showdown seemed to favor Mr. West slightly.
But boy howdy, I didn't expect these numbers. Billboard magazine reports that Graduation narrowly misses going platinum in a week, selling 957,000 copies -- both digital and physical, of course -- which obliterates this year's single-week sales mark set by Linkin Park's Minutes to Midnight. Fitty moved 691,000 units of Curtis, which is only 72 percent of Kanye's tally.
And there's an ironic-as-heck sidebar that gives 50 Cent more reason to "die tryin'," as promised in how vow to retire if Mr. West outsold him; the last album to sell more than a million units in its first week was his 2005 blockbuster, The Massacre. That's now quite the fitting title for this hop hop-titan showdown.
But I'm betting that the competition's not over. As the fall progresses, I believe that Curtis has a fair chance to overtake Graduation in sales, since major hard-core hip hop records tend to sell stronger for longer -- T.I., Akon and UGK have demonstrated that recently -- and as the novelty of the semi-experimental and, at times, plodding Graduation fades. In my opinion, it's Mr. West's weakest album. Hang in there, Fitty.
I'll be frank: ACL kicked my hiney. OK, not really; I survived fine, and had an immersive ball down Austin way. But alas, I'm behind on my CD-review-a-weekday promise ... by five. I won't quite catch up here, but I'll offer up a few more succinct impressions from four releases from last week. Then, starting tomorrow, the proposed routine will become routine. I hope.
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Get it, girl. (Courtesy)
She comes to town Oct. 14 to perform at SMU's McFarlin Auditorium. Ticketmaster is handling tix.
50 Cent threatened to retire if fellow rapper Kanye West sold more CDs than him during the first week of the rhymers new releases, Fiddy's Curtis and Kanye's Graduation. Well Kanye emerged victorious by almost 300,000 copies. So is Fiddy gonna hang it up or is he gonna pull a Garth Brooks, who's been "retired" for years but still performs and releases records? What do you think?
Also online
• Kanye West's album outperforms 50 Cent's
I don't know about you guys, but I'm SO looking forward to Annie Lennox's upcoming CD, Songs of Mass Destruction, which comes out Oct. 2. All I've heard is "Dark Road," which amazon.com has a video for on its website. But wow, the song is powerful. I've been into Annie since the Eurythmics did "Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This)." I've seen her in concert. The woman is the coolest combination of heightened drama and laidback soul. Love her!
