Bass Beats Treble

Top of the Pops!

2006-04-10T22:44:00.000-04:00

Memories of the April 9 Art Brut/Rogers Sisters/Robocop Kraus show at the Black Cat:

DIY or die! Start your own band or Art Brut will be very, very dissapointed during its next visit to D.C.

X-handed crowd screaming all of the lyrics even though the record hasn't been released domestically.

Hands raised, feet springing with boundless energy while chanting, "Popular culture no longer applies to me!"

Name-checking the legendary D.C. bands (Minor Threat, Fugazi, Nation of Ulysses) during the "Top of the Pops" section of "Bad Weekend."

Unabashed showmanship minus excellent musicianship = who cares it's too damn fun to matter!

Fake moustaches!!

An embarrassing tune about being a bad lover ("Rusted Guns of Milan").

Interrupting "Emily Kane" to inform us - gasp! that Emily Kane called and guess what: It's better to be in love with the idea of being in love than talking to the person about grown-up stuff like credit cards.

--
Sheets of glass flying out of Jennifer Rogers' amp - breaking all over the audience but never leaving a scratch.

A metal case of bass effects pedals and a noise grungier than a Brooklyn sewer

Lots of passion on stage but lack of interest in the crowd.

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Crazy cowboys shirts and contorted German dance moves.

Shaking a Sunday night D.C. crowd into a frenzy.

Lots of snappy, punky tracks by way of "The OC" with lots of new-wave keyboards.

Painted on mustaches and conversations about body hair!

Photos coming soon!!!!

Lez Do This!

2006-02-25T11:56:00.000-05:00

You can have the Beatles or any other band for that matter, I’ll take Led Zeppelin. Born a bit too early and to parents who cared less about arena rock, I missed my chance to see the ZOSO meisters. I caught a Robert Plant show during the “Now & Zen” tour back in high school; skipped the various Plant/Jimmy Page reunions. But the chance to see four women grab the Zep song book at a local venue I’ve never visited got me oddly excited. And that’s how I ended up at last night’s Lez Zeppelin show at the State Theatre in Falls Church, Va.

Moms and dads brought their youngins and dropped them off near the stage, which is totally appropriate because Zep is and always will be the ultimate “here’s your invitation to the wonders of hard rock band” for any middle-schooler. The seventh-grader in me stirs whenever I hear a heroic Page riff or Bonham smacking out a tiss-tiss-tiss-tiss pattern on the hi-hat. Everything about the group addressed the mysterious and scary time when your body and mind begin to peer behind the curtain of teen-agedom. The music thundered and clanged and roared, then slowed down for a mellow acoustic rest, kind of like those puberty-powered spurts and bouts of happiness and depression. Lyrics conjured tales of mythology and faraway kingdoms, appealing to the Dungeons and Dragons and Lord of the Ring lovers (and what 12-year-old boy didn’t get psyched for that?) And then there’s the sex – endless innuendo about lemon squeezing and juice running down legs and hooking up with all kinds of groovy chicks, Plant’s high-pitched squeals and rapturous orgasmic moans (“Whole Lotta Love” is the ultimate example), the words and sighs locking naughty parts with huffing and puffing drums, bass and white-hot guitar licks.

Now imagine the lyrics about meeting, humping and dumping various lasses being sung by a tall, luscious lead singer who specializes in making “do me” eyes at the girls and guys in the crowd and equally enjoys baring her bikini-model tummy and simulating sex with a raven-haired female guitarist? OK, stop daydreaming. Put your hands where I can see ‘em… Anyway, that’s the show. Note-for-note replications of the best Zep tracks, decent but hardly Plant-like vocals, shredding solos and rich tones, powerhouse drumming, mandolins, Theremins, violin bows, bongo, keyboards, the works. No light show or fancy backdrops, but when you’re standing in the front row (or anywhere in the theater), you really don’t need ‘em.

Songs that I can remember (not order, ‘cept for the first one):
Immigrant Song
Babe I’m Gonna Leave You
Dazed and Confused
Your Times Is Gonna Come
I Can’t Quit You Baby
The Ocean
Over the Hills and Far Away
Houses of the Holy
Kashmir
Black Dog
Rock ‘n’ Roll
Misty Mountain Hop
Going to California
Whole Lotta Love

[Gratuitous Tickemaster gripe: So here’s how I almost became a scalper at a Lez Zeppelin show: Two attempts to order tix from Ticketmaster.com failed on Friday morning. I sent a harried screed to Ticketmaster.com asking what the hell happened, and relaying that I only wanted one pair, not two, in case different credit cards were charged. The national Ticketmaster.com help center said it would be no help at all, and told me to contact the D.C. area office. So off went another e-mail. Finally I called that State Theatre and talked to a helpful guy named Brian; he said neither charge went through, and as of 2:30 p.m. there were only 76 tickets left. I scooted to the Hecht’s in Tysons and got one. If I had done that from the start, I would’ve saved a pantload of time and not spent at least an hour inviting people who could possibly take the four other tickets, bothering my wife and generally worrying about how cheesy I’d look trying to unload tickets, not to mention the variety of service charge fees that I’d have to eat. By the time I arrived, the show was sold out and no tickets were waiting at will call. I’ll have to check if Ticketmaster ever gets back to me.]

Yea, I Missed 'Em

2006-01-01T22:44:00.000-05:00

I scoured some best-of lists and now I'm willing to admit, shame free, all of the great discs/singles that I some how neglected during the past 12 months. In some ways I feel like a heel for missing-but-not-dissing these tracks. And yet it's getting soooo hard to stay connected to everything now that thousands of tunes are being released independently and online only. So far this decade has been mostly crap when it comes to politics and quality of life. But for musicians, the naughts will be remembered for the erosion of major-label domination and the freedom to create and find audiences directly through online communities.

All right, on with the what-I-missed list, based on Pitchfork, Spin and some of the blogs on my blogroll (like Cocaine Blunts). One of my New Year's resolutions will be to find these discs/tracks and to start chasing down the best of '06.

Fiery Furnaces: EP
The Decemberists: Picaresque
Various Artists: Run the Road
Art Brut: Bang Bang Rock'n'Roll
DangerDoom: The Mouse & The Mask
Ghostface with Raekwon: Kilos (single)
The Legendary KO: George Bush Doesn't Care About Black People (single)

And if you're wonderin' about my favorites of the past year, here goes:

Kanye West: Late Registration
Bloc Party: Silent Alarm
Sleater-Kinney: The Woods
LCD Soundsystem: LCD Soundsystem
M.I.A.: Arular
The White Stripes: Get Behind Me Satan
Gorillaz: Demon Days
Stephen Malkmus & Jicks: Face the Truth
Sonic Youth: Goo (Reissue)
Missy Elliott: Lose Control, Can't Stop (singles)
Amerie: 1 Thing (single)
Spoon: I Turn My Camera On (single)
Kaiser Chiefs: I Predict a Riot (single)
Damian Marley: Welcome to Jamrock (single)

The B-E-S-T

2005-12-30T14:16:00.000-05:00

Best-of lists. You can't escape 'em, even if you wanted to.

I'm gonna spare you from reading another one. Instead I'm going to check out some lists and ask myself, "Why the hell haven't you heard this song/CD/in-studio mix tape/whatever and when are you gonna wrap your ears around it?"

That's coming soon. For real.

Not So Wicked Awesome

2005-12-30T13:06:00.000-05:00

Caught one of the sold out and super-pricey productions of "Wicked" at the Kennedy Center on Christmas night. Nice that we had our own lil' area in the very back row of the orchestra section (individual seats rather than folding ones, that kinda thing). But... the krazy kool metallic eagle dealie at the top of the stage was blocked by the balcony, so we shoulda paid "obstructed view" pricing rather than the north of 100 smackers (plus all kinds of service charges and $15 parking fees).

The show? Terrific set design, wild-ass flying monkeys, fabulous singing by the Stephanie Block, the actress who plays greenie meanie Elphaba (turns out the wicked witch is just misunderstood, not a coal-hearted grumpus like you know from "The Wizard of Oz"). But the songs never achieved any level of memorable, hummable glory. During the intermission, I ran into a pal who was beaming with excitement. I poured water on his enthusiasm with my dour assessment of the songwriting, then took the conversation right out of Oz and into the Redskins' playoff chances. The second act fared better now that my expectations were much lower than the raving, insane, sold-out-in-mere-hours euphoria that I'd been prepped for.

Missed Ya

2005-12-11T22:22:00.000-05:00

I'm listening to NPR.org's stream of the Sly and Robbie set from their Dec. 6 show at the 9:30 Club. The echoing snare has far passed the limitations of my tiny Harmon/Kardon speakers. Hearing the show made me think of the concerts that I _didn't_ see in '05. Yeah, I'm including tours that never made it to the D.C. area.

There were too many missed shows to name 'em all. Especially lately - I've barely had a chance to skim the calendars of who's in town, let alone see a show. Oh, it's total crap, I know. Work, taking care of a house, gearing up for the holidays... all of it adds up to a lot of responsibilities that aren't at all forgiving to a heavy showgoing schedule. Boo hoo, woe is me. OK, I know.

So enough excuses. I already missed these once, no need to prolong the pain. Would love to see links to show reviews and pics, or even better, sound clips.

• MC Doom and Danger Mouse
• Franz Ferdinand
• Death from Above 1979
• Sinead O'Connor
• Echo and the Bunnymen
• Bloc Party at 9:30 Club
• Travis Morrison at Fort Reno
• Futureheads at Sonar
• Run for Cover (tribute and parody show at the Black Cat)
• U2 (mostly for the stage set)
• Kanye West at Patriot Center

Yes, that's 11. I'm sure there are way more, but that's all my memory's spitting up for now.

Revenge of the Right Ear

2005-11-23T02:35:00.000-05:00

Damn! I should've known that my ears would get back at me for all those punk concerts where my faced hovered right over the stage monitors with no earplugs! It's been years since I haven't done the ol' squeeze and insert with foam earplugs at the beginning of a show. But my right ear - always the sensitive one - now has some kind of growth in the ear canal. That's what the doc told me this morning. So next up is a stop at the ear, nose and throat dude to identify it and - gulp - possibly remove it. I was hoping for something simple, like a few drops to stop this clogged and burning feeling.

Of course I spent some time reading about ear surgery tonight and scaring the hell out of myself for no good reason. More details after I've got 'em.

UPDATE: Nothing major after all. The ear, nose and throat doc gave me some Cipro (yea, I'll be warding off all kinds of problems with that stuff) and the infection went away. The burning sensation heats up every few days, but it's brief and now I'm not worried. A second checkup went fine.

Hands off my PC!

2005-11-16T01:33:00.000-05:00

Oh, those sneaky bastards!! No, not the weasely club managers who stiff the bands. It's way worse than that. The combination of record labels' lockdown approach to copyright protection mingled with their ability to plant malicious software within music buyers' computers is beyond aggravating. I don't know all the technical hoo-haa, but there's something about a "rootkit" that is causing trouble and even spying on users' activities. Sony BMG has declared that it would discontinue the anti-piracy software, reports Pitchfork and The Boston Globe.

Anybody who finds this crap on their machine has the right to go ballistic. Luckily.... I haven't listened to any of the discs on the "infected" list, which names Neil Diamond, Our Lady Peace and Ricky Martin among others. Lord help those who actually purchased those CDs!!

NPR Loves It Live

2005-11-06T05:14:00.000-05:00

National Public Radio is all about the live concert streams. Recent additions to the "Live in Concert" page include Death Cab for Cutie and Son Volt.

I will be spending a lot o' time listening to the archives - Bloc Party and The Decemberists, especially. And the shows were recorded at the 9:30 Club, so I'm sure there'll be plenty of D.C.-related, between-song pleasantries. I'll be listening for chatter that goes a few levels beyond the usual banal political commentary.

Oh, crap. The iTunes shuffle mode just flipped on some Journey tunes. Let me correct that grave error immediately.

More Op Ceasefire Pix

2005-10-25T00:09:00.000-04:00

The organizers of Operation Ceasefire have posted a ton of photos sent by people who attended the event. Lots of pictures of the march, overhead photos from the scaffolding on the side of the stage and lots more.

It's a Family Affair, Pt. II

2005-10-18T00:54:00.000-04:00

A few more thoughts about Saturday's Fiery Furnaces show before I get to the pix: I love the gaggles of haunted theme park carousal organ more than the thrashy, faux-thrash action that erupts midway through some of the songs. Sure, the foursome can pound it out with fierce authority, but it's just not as interesting as the rest.

I was especially intrigued by Matthew's eye-lock on his sis, she of the long, psuedo-feathery locks. All that starin' was kinda oogy at times (I mean it's his sister, dammitt!). But it's all about the precision, I guess, with so many rollercoaster time changes to manage throughout a song. Occasionally he'd break out into a gleeful smile, then close his lips and go back to stare mode.

Eleanor had some sniffles, and at one point she asked the crowd for a tissue. Her brother suggested she go ahead and do a farmer blow to clear her nose, but she told him no way. He shot her a "just fuckin' do it!" look, as if she was sacrificing the quality of the show. I'm not taking much a risk by suggesting that he's got some type A personality stuff going on. That's OK with me - there's an element of control and perfectionism in his expressions, the way he fussed with his gear during soundcheck - and it's better than being relaxed and permissive.

Without further ado... the pix:

Some reviews/comments of the show:

Bonairente Canadiense
Sad Stars

It's a Family Affair

2005-10-17T01:33:00.000-04:00

As I admitted yesterday, I know next to nothing about Fiery Furnaces but bought a ticket to the Black Cat show based on just a couple of songs downloaded from audioblogs (and a good review a while back from my man JC). The storytelling and disregard for traditional pop song length and intriguing time changes fascinated me. The sibling stars – Eleanor and Matthew Friedberger – convinced me that they love thumping, sweaty rock anthems just as much as Rhodes keyboard jams and whimsical tales. I pictured them as little kids playing D&D and giving real beatdowns to anyone who teased them about it at school.

I’ll have more on their 80-minute set, but first a note about the openers:

Openers the Child Ballads gamely battled to keep the crowd’s attention despite a busted pickup on the lead singer’s acoustic guitar, rambling between-song chatter and the band’s disinterest/disengagement with their leader’s drunk or high or both stage presence. Stewart Lupton, who fronted Jonathan Fire*Eater out of New York, still has the ability to entrance an audience with his weathered, seen-it-all-and-still-alive-to-tell delivery. And I loved the purring Farfisa organ. But with his red eyelids pulled low like curtains over foggy windows, he seemed in desparate need of a nap. And his band needs some image repair: The bassist (with little to do) and drummer could’ve walked out of K Street gigs, changed into casual clothes and climbed on stage, clashing with the guitarist’s retro NYC leather-and-jeans combo. Lupton sported a faded flannel, a good fit with the music’s loose rock-n-blooze, kinda like a break-up letter that’s sat in a drawer and smudged with tears cried long ago.

Glad I Missed It...

2005-10-17T01:19:00.000-04:00

Lineup changes and poor ticket sales plagued last night's old-school show at the MCI Center, according to this account from WaPost. The promoter has to be wishing he priced all seats at $40 instead of three tiers that topped out above $100.

Did you go? Did it suck, or is this review wiggedy-wack?

Sumthin' New or Sumthin' True

2005-10-15T18:04:00.000-04:00

Only a few hours after I snap up a ticket to the Fiery Furnaces show at Black Cat, I get word of an all-star hip-hop, funk and R&B benefit show at MCI Center. It's for Katrina victims and timed to the Millions More Movement events in D.C. How many artists can cram into a single show? Here's a taste: LL Cool J, Public Enemy, Big Daddy Kane, Doug E. Fresh, Whodini, Kool Moe Dee and Poor Righteous Teachers. Also: Erykah Badu, New Edition, Lisa Lisa (now we're going waaaay back), Cameo, Chi-Lite, Club Nouveau and even more.

I love the artists but I ain't crying over it. What are they going to play, 15-minute sets? Plus, I've seen Kane, Whodini, Doug E., LL, P.E. and Whodini before (not in one night, though).

The FF show is like a live tryout. I don't own any of the band's discs, but I'm intrigued by the rootsy, sometimes campy storytelling, lengthy tracks and nearly hypnotic repetition of chorus and themes throughout the songs. I'm surprised the show isn't sold out - maybe the 8:30 doors are too early for people?

Or maybe they'll be pumpin' fists and noddin' heads to a medly of "I Get Raw," "I'm Gonna Knock You Out," "Rock Dis Funky Joint" and "The Freaks Come Out at Night," capped off with "Fight the Power." It's all good unless Brigitte Nielsen is in the building.

Will the real Beck Hansen please stand up?

2005-10-07T01:49:00.000-04:00

Wednesday night in the Northern Virginia suburbs. Let that soak into your mind for a second. Wait, you're bored already? Yeah, me too.

I expected that boredom to get zapped into oblivion during Beck's hump-day show at the Patriot Center. His last visit there during the "Midnight Vultures" upped his rep immensely. He surrounded himself with a wacky and elaborate set, sending out a waves of funky white boy energy. On this night, though, it was a different record, different band, different guy. Too bad for everyone who paid $40 + service charges + plus ridonkulously long waits for drinks in the "Patriot Pub" (damn college arena and it's no servin' the freshman rules!).

The story: We walked into the basketball arena at 9:30, intentionally skipping the openers. (Never heard of the first band - McRorie - and didn't like Whirlwind Heat when they opened for White Stripes back at the George Washington show). The stage was pushed much farther out on the floor than usual, and large sections of green and yellow seats waited for some companionship. Ugh - talk about a buzz kill. A half-empty arena on a Wednesday night sucks out all the anticipation of a good show.

After the first couple of songs, I wanted to kill the inept sound guy who was running the boards. With seven guys on stage, two of them banging away on drums and other percussion, you definitely felt the beats. But everything else was muddled, leaden and messy. Beck's new album thrives on nuance and quirky, give-me-some-big-ass-headphones effects. All of that was lost. Usually I just dismiss the slower, acoustic songs. But "Nobody's Fault But My Own" and other stripped-down tracks felt warm and personal, with a crispness missing from the rest of the night.

I was sitting a couple sections away from the stage, so I couldn't complain about the view. People in my section stood and danced. But it never felt like a Beck show is supposed to. Instead of throwing down some b-a-n-a-n-a-s moves, Beck let his breakdancin' crony handle the footwork. After the encore, "E-Pro," we found out why - Beck must have hurt his leg on stage or some time earlier, because he hobbled off stage like a weary, battered prize fighter heading to the locker room after a losing bout.

I'm being harsh, I realize. There was one great set piece that reminded me of the inspired, I'll-try-anything Beck of old. With his acoustic guitar, Beck played one of his slower songs. His band gathered around a kitchen table and picked up knives and spoons and beat out some raggedy, homemade percussion on the top and side of the table. I loved the simplicity and the spirit of the scene. It made me think of little kids who grab whatever tools they can find and play along to their favorite song. Beck sped up the moment by seguing into "Clap Hands," and the spoonmen played hotter and faster, bringing in water glasses, acorn squash and whatever else lay scattered at the table.

Redemption! Without those few minutes, the show would've been a big disappointment. Unimaginative images on two wide screens, a cheesy gigantic boombox lowered from the rafters during "Where It's At," a half-assin' it leading man, a mere 75 minutes of music.

Remind me to avoid the Patriot Center on a Wednesday. Gracias, gueros!

Songs I remember: Black Tamborine, Qué Onda Guero, Girl, Hell Yes, Sexx Laws, Devil's Haircut, Beercan, Nicotine & Gravy, Loser, Where It's At, Hotwax, Lost Cause, Nobody's Fault But My Own, E-Pro, Golden Age

I Think I Smell an Amp

2005-09-28T23:52:00.000-04:00

Let me pay homage to one of the most life-affirming sounds in rock these days: It's a colassal thump, a monstruous crunch. It's that half second when Jack White downstrokes precisely as Meg decks her crash cymbal and kicks the hell out of her bass drum. The noise is all primal fury and power; anger, love and hate.

I can't get enough. I still want more, even after 95 minutes of it at last night's Merri-
weather Post Pavilion show. I'd seen Jack and Meg once before at the George Washington University Smith Center. The gymnasium show had its benefits, mostly proximity to the stage, but the MPP concert beat it handily. I usually can't stand to be more than 10 feet away from the stage, but my mid-Pavilion seat was near the sound board. So instead of getting monitor noise, I was hearing the same ruckus as the mixing board engineer. I also had a great view of the stage set - a mysterious black and white paradise of palmetto trees and a glowing white apple. Not pure like the one Meg holds on the record, but with shading and a hint of dinginess. Not so of the polished red timpanis and ~~large xylophone~~ marimba, or the Steinway piano and keyboards. And Meg's drumset sparkled, too.

I always think of WS as a perfect band for fall weather, probably because of the images conjured in my mind by "Dead Leaves and the Dirty Ground." So the chill in the air felt right, not a nuisance. During the first songs, it felt like Jack was going through motions with some raw, almost half-assed vocals, especially during "Dirty Leaves." But he's a showman, from the skin-hugging red outfit to the "Boo! I'm the devil!" goatee and mustache. He shook off the vocal laziness and went with his strength - giving much love to his many guitars, rarely pausing between tracks and paying little attention to thousands of power-chord-adoring fans. His piano playing was game but seemed especially meager compared with his slide-guitar mastery. Throughout the show, I kept thinking of young Jack Black's mix tapes - Jimmy Page, Dolly Parton, Robert Johnson and probably 100 bluesmen I've never heard of.

With the kick drum, crash and electric guitar, the White Stripes strip away the excess and bullshit that suffocates lesser bands. It's primal and brutal and simple and beautiful, all at once.

The Shins played second after M. Ward (missed that one - too much traffic). The guys were funny and charming, and they proved to me that they're fully capable of translating their brainy, lushly recorded songs to an outdoor shed. They got a sit-down crowd standing after their second-to-last song, and I guess everyone expected them to play another fast one. But they slowed the tempo, only to stack it up again in a roiling, clanging finale. The curly-haired keyboardist/guitarist said the group was taking a break from recording its third album. The anticipation is going to be huge, and deservedly so.

Songs I can remember from last night (not in order):
Shins - Kissing the Lipless, So Says I, Saint Simon, Turn a Square, Caring is Creepy, Know Your Onion!

White Stripes - Blue Orchid, Dead Leaves and the Dirty Ground, Jolene, I Think I Smell a Rat, We're Going to be Friends, Hotel Yorba, My Doorbell, I Just Don't Know What to do with Myself, The Hardest Button to Button, Seven Nation Army, The Nurse, The Denial Twist, Passive Manipulation, Red Rain

Totally huge bonus!!! NPR is streaming the entire show from its site! Plus photo galleries of each band. Nice!

This Mall Ain't for Shopping

2005-09-26T00:40:00.000-04:00

In my ‘hood, conservative administrations = amazing benefit/protest shows. There’s always something to fight about in D.C., whether it’s the lack of representative voting rights, or threats to overturn pro-choice laws or ill-planned wars. The punk movement usually organizes the show, and even though yesterday’s Operation Ceasefire represented a range of genres, the energy and ideals shared the energy and DIY enthusiasm of a punk show.

I arrived after the main march wrapped up, but thousands of people and an equal number of signs crowded the Mall. The schedule coincided with the “must-see” acts on the lineup: the Coup, The Evens, Ted Leo + Pharmacists, Head-Roc and Thievery Corporation. Sweet Honey and the Rock appeared in between the Coup and Ted Leo. Even thought the activist, acoustic group isn’t a favorite, I felt like I should watch because of their D.C. roots and Grammy-winning acclaim. Scores of speakers stepped on stage in between bands to remind everyone that even though this was a concert, the main theme must not be forgotten: the war is unjust, outrageously expensive and a catalyst for even further hatred of the U.S. Actually, those were sub-themes to the core goal of the day: to bring back the troops.

I’ll leave the analysis of whether the event worked, or will even be acknow-
ledged by the admin-
istration, to the thousands of political bloggers out there. I’m going to share the images from my mental scrapbook, which I hope is better at recording the scenes than my digicam. Even after I worked my way to the very front of the dense crowd (which was not hard to do – unlike a club show where every inch is preciously guarded space), so many of my shots were explosions of hot reds and blurred streaks. The ones I’ve posted are the best of a very weak bunch. I tried every combination of settings I could think – playing with exposure settings and ISOs and color clarity. Aaagh! I’d occasionally bring myself back to reality and say there’s time for learning how to operate this thing later – shoot a bit and focus on the messages from the speakers who’d lost children or the war veterans who’ve seen firsthand what’s going wrong.

Here’s what will stay with me:

The Coup getting the crowd moving with live drumming, great singing and deep bass. Awesome acoustic freestyle from the lead singer in his “Revolutionary Rock” Army shirt, a la the Clash.

The performance namechecked the urban poor in this country, the very people left behind by the administration during Katrina.

The nasally, well-fed Jello Biafra dropping various political science and introing the bands. He made Ian MacKaye squirm with an intro (I can’t remember what he said but I kept thinking about how those guys were making music years ago, and that Ian still has the drive and creativity to keep writing songs with a message – and an audience).

I’m lame for not having the Evens disc, but I definitely want after an inspired set. Ian taught the crowd an anti-cop chorus, which it eagerly sang along, spewed with rage during “All These Governers” and tried to calm everyone’s nerves by explaining that this administration, like others before it, will eventually be gone.

He’s seen plenty, but this time around it feels like the damage will be much harder to undo. So it was a nice thought from hard-core’s wizened spiritual leader, but the skeptics like me still worry. The D.C. theme was in full effect by this point, with Machetres, Sweet Honey and the Evens already on stage, and with former D.C. resident Ted Leo and full-timers Head-Roc and Thievery Corporation yet to come.

Ted was too fired up initially, and a malfunction with his guitar multiplied his tension. At one point he threw down his guitar in frustration, then picked it up and started retuning. A few minutes later he regained his composure and explained that the day was extremely emotional for him.

Not surprising because he draws his intensity and lyrics from a fiery rebellion against political improprieties, and he was devastated last November when Bush won the election. He recovered – albeit with another quick electrical short out – during “Timorous Me,” which he equated to the feeling of celebration at an Irish wake. He dropped the guitar completely for a wild version of “The Ballad of the Sin Eater.” Blasts of heaving bass notes flooded the air as Ted recounted the tale of hatred for Americans during a trans-continental journey. This was his moment, shared with crowd during the chorus of “And you didn't think they could hate you, now did you? Ah, but they hate you, they hate you 'coz you're guilty.” Freed from the guitar, he gripped the mic with both hands and banged it against his forehead. I wondered if he intentionally wanted to spill his own blood on a day to honor those who had nobly given theirs for a misguided cause.

Head-Roc may have done the most to make a name for himself. His set was tight, the politics righteous and the beats hot and loud. He and Noyeek the Grizzly Bear prowled the stage and came correct with stinging lyrics about racism and America’s history of inequality. Like the other groups on this night, he found the right balance between moving butts and expanding minds.

Thievery Corporation played 65 minutes of exhilarating and globetrotting dance music. This was the set I was waiting for: I’ve never seen the band (even though it recently played three nights in a row at 9:30 Club) and its founders are not only heavily political in their lyrics, but they helped to organize the show.

Eight musicians built layers of amazing textures throughout the set - Brazilian rhythms, Latin beats and freaky psychedelia (“Marching the Hate Machines Into the Sun”). This was the closest the night came to evolving into a dance party minus the political overtones, but if you check the lyrics on “The Cosmic Game” you’ll know otherwise. The stage was packed - two percussionists, a bassist responsible for the immense musical foundation, two guys with horns and a guy who switched between sitar and electric guitar accompanied TC’s main men – Rob and Eric, who operated a turntable, keyboards and other gear on a sleek platform with angled arms. Definitely something Doc Ock would’ve had in his million-dollar laboratory.

I loved the guest stars – amazing female vocalists and light-
ning-quick rappers and skankin’ Caribbean rudeboys. “Warning Shots” sent the crowd into convulsions, pogoing and chanting “One/And in comes the two and three and/One!” over and over.

The set ended at 11:05 and I trudged back to the Metro. Obviously some of the crowd came just for the music, like at any cause-based concert. (It was easy to spot them; they were the ones talking or even mocking the speakers in between the bands.) Those who paid attention knew that an all-day show would satisfy their hunger for great music, but it wouldn’t solve any problems. Thankfully the artists recognized they were just the catalyst, and the thousands in the crowd were the army that would have to mobilize and fight.

It Is So Goddamn On!

2005-09-23T01:32:00.000-04:00

Yes, yes, ya'll! The Operation Ceasefire concert is this Saturday at 2 p.m. The entire line-up is loaded with D.C. groups and national acts scattered throughout the day. I tried to volunteer earlier in the week but never got a response from the opceasefire site. So I'll donate some $$$ and add my body and maybe a few others to the headcount. Lots of other major protests this weekend in D.C., too, if you're ass is motivated to protest all the soul-shattering nonsense our administration shovels our way on a daily basis.

Back to the music. Bands on my most-want-to-see list:
Machetres
The Coup
The Evens
Ted Leo + Pharmacists
Head Roc
Thievery Corporation
Le Tigre

The show lasts until 2 a.m.!!! Seriously, I've never heard of a concert going that long on the Washington Monument grounds. Don't miss this opportunity to make some real noise at the Monument... and during the rest of the weekend's actions. (Concert poster art by Mike Flugennock)

Rockabilly, St. Louis Style

2005-09-14T02:42:00.000-04:00

You can attribute my aforementioned wack-ass-itude to a lack of local shows worth my time and $$$. But I did catch a show in South St. Louis last weekend at a single-room bar/club called Frederick's Music Lounge. Simple set-up - bar in the back with some chairs, small floor and a stage near the window. Too smoky for my taste, but overall comfortable, inviting and more like a neighborhood hang than most anything you'd find in D.C.

The Trip Daddys played two sets of drag-strip, wheels-on-fire rockabilly. Heavy on the punk flavorings, too, thank you very much. My cousin bemoaned the lack of a shoulder-to-shoulder, sweat-drenched crowd. But the trio banged out a couple hours worth of originals and covers with enough energy to get the three-quarters-full club on its feet. Loved the grunge-under-the-fingernails cover of The Stooges "I Wanna Be Your Dog." One skinny dude launched into some major new-wave pogo/skinny-tie calisthenics during that one.

I'm heading to L.A. this weekend. Bark at me if you know any good shows to check out.

Silent Treatment

2005-09-14T02:15:00.000-04:00

There's neglect, and then there's my absolute wack-ass performance hosting this blog. I'm gone for weeks at a time, and the whole thing goes silent. Damn, I suck.

Aah, that feels better. Now on to the regular posts...

Thank you, Kanye

2005-09-03T11:43:00.000-04:00

Dear Kanye -

Thank you for relaying the disollusion of a nation by dissing the teleprompter and speaking your mind. Some people will write you off as a guy looking for publicity for your new CD any way you can get it. They'll say your accusations that the president does not caring about black people and assertions that the National Guard was sent there to shoot the refugees during a nationally televised charity concert was the wrong way to do it.

But your eyes, your posture, the tone in your voice felt genuine and urgent and angry. Like you, we are mourning the losses in the Gulf Coast and furious about the administration's lack of leadership and vision. I only hope your words act as a catalyst for change, rather than some Fox News-directed witchhunt into your motives.

I doubt Mike Myers will be casting you in "Austin Powers IV." That dude was freaked!

Last words: Good luck if the Secret Service knocks on your door.

Tales of a Former Pop Critic

2005-08-29T02:26:00.000-04:00

David Segal, the former pop music critic for The Washington Post, shares his quest for the ultimate live concert moments in today's WP magazine. Check the piece to see if any of your favorites make the list. There's also a small photo gallery of B&W pix of The Boss and Bono, along with Elvis Costello, Billie Joe Armstrong and ugh! - 'N Sync.

I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For

2005-08-29T02:17:00.000-04:00

Rarely will you ever see a U2 reference in this blog. But tonight it's legit. I've been hunting for reasonably priced tix for the Oct. 3 show in Boston as a present for my wife. Don't worry, she's going to one of the D.C. shows. This is just a birthday bonus. Hopping from eBay, Stubhub and other brokers' sites has made me dizzy - it's just overpriced ticket after the next. I'm talking markups of 600 percent or more!

Got any leads? Hook me up, por favor!!

Massive Music on the Mall

2005-08-12T02:05:00.000-04:00

The guys from Thievery Corporation are producing a concert event that coincides with anti-war protests in D.C. The event, dubbed "Operation Ceasefire," happens on September 14 at the Washington Monument.

This is an obvious must-see for reasons political and musical. In addition to Thievery Corporation, the lineup graces us with Ted Leo, the Coup, D.C.'s Head-Roc, Machetres, Le Tigre, Steve Earle and others. Jello Biafra and Wayne Kramer have some role at the show, too.

More details here.

I Heart Edie

2005-08-12T01:54:00.000-04:00

I've always loved the artwork for the "Edie (Ciao Baby)" single by the Cult. That silver skin, those gorgeous eyes peering skyward at who knows what. It's mysterious, tragic, captivating. I've got the single stacked somewhere at home. I wish they made frames for singles instead of just full-length albums. This one would be on display in a minute.

Why bring up Edie Sedgwick and this old Cult vinyl? Because tonight I saw the 2005 version of Edie S. at Fort Reno. OK, so it's a guy dressed up like Edie (the resemblance ain't really happenin') who sings, dances, shows us his jazz hands and tells funny stories that lead into songs about celebrities. Pumping pre-recorded electro-skank tracks from an Apple laptop, and backed by some synchonized footage on a pull-down screen, E.S. performed tracks like "Molly Ringwald," "Martin Sheen," "Arnold Schwarzenegger," "Robert Downey Jr." and a bunch more. He also dropped some wicked haikus about Luke Wilson, Ben Affleck, "March of the Penguins" and J. Lo. Great clips of Sigourney Weaver and "Aliens," "The Terminator," glamour shots of Lucy Liu and the aforementioned Robert Downey Jr. falling out of moving vehicles.

And best of all? The screensaver that launched the clips was that favorite image of mine, the painted face of Ms. Sedgwick.

Advance Tix Passwords

2005-08-11T01:12:00.000-04:00

You love the online ticket presales, right? But what happens you don't have the password? Check BlueBucs Ticket Blog. It's got more hook ups than a prom after-party.

Scrolling through today's front page, I found Foo Fighter/Weezer in Phoenix, Bauhaus in New York and Beck at the Patriot Center. That's the money concert for me. Oct. 5 show date; Aug. 11 on sale date. Password is rentalcar in case you're wonderin'. Tickets are $40 (damn!) through Ripoffmaster.

Liz! Liz! Liz!

2005-08-07T13:54:00.000-04:00

Imagine if Liz Phair started her career with the saccharine tracks from 2003’s legs-open, guitar-straddlin’ self-titled disc. That one would’ve been the first and last time we’d have heard from her. There would’ve been no frank and foul-mouthed musings about sex, relationships and dick-head, deadbeat guys that crossed her path. No frenzy to purchase the limited pressings of a foldout vinyl LP. And no solo acoustic tour like the one she’s performing now at small venues throughout the U.S.

Luck for us, she did begin as an indie guitar anti-ingenue who cursed and created a path for all of the Alanis’, Fionas’ and Merediths’ to follow. During her Aug. 5 set at the Birchmere in Alexandria, Liz mined all of her official discs (and her finest short shorts and taped-together tank top) for a 65-minute acoustic set. Friday’s show was my first at the Birchmere, and everything I’d heard about the venue’s reputation for bringing out the warm tones of six and twelve-string guitars was 100 percent accurate. Favorites like “Fuck and Run” and “Polyester Bride” re-solidified her reputation as a potent songwriter whose themes resonate with women and cause men to recognize the jackass inside while singing along. “Why Can’t I” and “Extraordinary” benefited from a stripped-down rendering; the lyrics still make me cringe. She showcased a couple of new songs. “Somebody’s Miracle,” the title track from her upcoming disc, sounds like it was commissioned by the producers of the next Hollywood feel-good chick flick. Yes, the sap will continue to flow on the new CD.

The tracks I remember (with help from JC):
Polyester Bride (opener), Fuck and Run (closer), Somebody’s Miracle, Uncle Alvarez, Supernova, Extraordinary, Why Can’t I, 6’1”, Never Said, Soap Star Joe, Mesmerizing, Divorce Song, May Queen, Baby Got Going, her version of Wild Thing, and a moving song written from the perspective of an alcoholic friend.

Check out the reviews of her recent shows from the New York Post and a feature story from The New York Times.

Last thing - The crowd groaned when the lights came up, meaning no encore and no need for the two electrics that had been propped on stage (including a sick hollow guitar). But Liz did spend a while signing autographs and taking pictures with fans. Another thing that never would've happened if she'd taken the high-gloss road instead of the gritty, confrontational approach at the beginning of her career.

Press Play

2005-08-07T13:11:00.000-04:00

Two weeks is a like a decade in blog time. But the past 14 days have been filled with sleepless nights, anxiety, shock, heart-shredding loss, tears and lots of time with close and distant family. Not exactly the ingredients for funky posts about live shows.

The recovery has started; the music can begin again.

Press Pause

2005-07-25T00:56:00.000-04:00

I'm taking a short break from posting because a member of the fam is very, very sick right now. Get better soon DPC!!!

Fort Reno Snaps July 18

2005-07-20T03:20:00.000-04:00

I'll let the pix do the talking. First up is Son of Nun, a politically minded rapper backed by a thumping percussion beat (3 musicians), keyboard and single-turntable DJ who dropped some trippy Portishead grooves along with straight-up scratches during the set.

Q and Not U faced the usual Fort Reno obstacles - mysterious feedback from parts unknown, drenching humidity, bugs in the eye and one fleeting power outage (just the keyboards, not a full-stage blowout that's been known to happen). But that didn't matter one bit - the final Fort Reno appearance exploded with surges of raw, locked-tight rhythms I've come to expect during the past seven years. A big crowd turned out and the front was jammed with hand-clappin', gyrating, please-play-another-song screaming fans. If you were there, this'll look awfully familiar...

No cheating on this one; it's just the way the camera moved and picked up the colors.

I admit - I played with the contrast adjustment on this last one. If you've got some pictures to share online, post to the comments area and point to your site.

Let the Farewell Shows Begin

2005-07-18T01:29:00.000-04:00

Farewell shows. The thought of 'em makes me cringe. Knowing you're hearing a favorite song live for the last time. Wondering if half the crowd shares your love for the songs, or if they're poseurs who want to tell everyone, "Oh yeah, I was there for the last show. It was awesome."

Those feelings will bubble up tomorrow night at Fort Reno, when Q and Not U wind down an inspired collaboration that lasted seven years and three albums. Chris Richards, Harris Klahr and John Davis announced the split earlier this month. No one can ever fault them for deciding now is the time to break it up. But there are so many reasons why the Q&NU split is as heartbreaking as a college rejection letter from your safety school.

The chemistry, the grooves, the emotion got better with each record.
You couldn't wait to see how they'd evolve on the fourth disc.
They brought the bad-ass synth, bass and drums stylee in a free-thinking, ass-shaking collection of songs before today's iPod darlings knew a high-hat from a high five.
In a post-Fugazi Fort Reno schedule, Q&NU's shows = clear your calendar!
Chris commands, demands and earns attention. He's sweating through shirt after shirt, jumping into the crowd with a shovel to dig ditches (for real!) and transmitting the scrappy, unpredictable DIY energy that makes everyone who loves D.C.'s independent music so grateful to be here.

So it's almost over. There's the Fort Reno show and two nights at the Black Cat, Sept. 22 and 23. I've promised some pics for a while, and here they are. These are a few shots from the '04 Q&NU show at Fort Reno.

John tells washingtonpost.com's Going Out Gurus blog about the split.

When Hip-Hop Grows Up

2005-07-18T00:50:00.000-04:00

What happens when the hip-hop performers who haven't become video stars struggle to find time to collaborate and record new tracks? I'm talking about the guys who drive hours to throw down at clubs while holding down day jobs and supporting their families.

D.C.'s Poem-Cees explored the concept during Saturday's performance of "Grown Folks" at the Hip-Hop Theater Festival at the Studio Theater. The roughly 45-minute play is still a work in progress. The core of a great show is already there, and Black Picasso, Naturalaw and DJ Stylus can flesh out hip-hop's emergence from non-commercial, street party soundtrack to mega-million corporate moneymaker and relate it the "growing up" of the artists who stay true to hip-hop's core, along with the conflicts that we all face trying to energize our creativity while facing endless hassles at work and home. The show features some hot solo joints, and a longer production could incorporate even more of the inventive wordplay that Poem-Cees are known for.

I just hope they can find the time to make it happen.

Rockaway Beach

2005-07-14T02:39:00.000-04:00

Just back from SBB, ya'll. That's South Bethany Beach to you non-Eastern Shore voyagers. Great place for families with young kids or teens whose hormones are surging like the waves at high tide. I don't fall into either camp. But I loved lounging in my big blue foldable recliner, toes buried in the sand and brain wrapped around "Fast Food Nation." Perfect weather - sunny, mid-to-high '80s and a calm breeze. Who can I speak to about replacing the murky, car-oil colored water with clear blue Gulf Coast surf? That would be too close to paradise.

(This is my digicam shot from the deck at Harpoon Hanna's in Fenwick Island - gotta watch the sunset with a frozen Toasted Almond.)

Listened to lots of XM on the way there and back (mostly Fred, Ethel and Lucy) with some iPod action thrown in - the hottest tracks from the new Missy Elliott (sick beats and guest appearances - hola Slick Rick), LCD Soundsystem (one of my newest favorites) and assorted cuts from Kaiser Chiefs, Maximo Park and others that may or may not have a career ahead of 'em. Also shared the recent Beck and White Stripes discs with friends who wanted recommendations on all that's new and good. Other musical moments: My wife quizzing me on Billy Squier songs (I'm horrible with '70s music trivia), researching the new Thievery Corporation disc and frantically typing questions into a Blackberry with hopes that the guys could answer by e-mail in between international tour dates. After all that effort, the publicist said they're not gonna do interviews (at least not with this free-lancer).

The Fort Reno recollections are coming soon. Promise.

Support the Fort

2005-07-07T03:18:00.000-04:00

Which Fort Reno shows are you checking out this summer? So far I've circled July 18 (Q and Not U), July 21 (Head-Roc) and July 28 (Travis Morrison Hellfighters) as prime dates. But the beauty of the shows is that you're likely to find some new sounds - maybe your next favorite group - during any Monday and Thursday night show. Check the full schedule for details and remember the simple, no bullshittin' rules of engagement - get rid of the alcoholic bevs and glass bottles before you step into the park. Did I mention that all shows are free? That's right - no charge. So save your money for T-shirts that support the cause (I hope they've got new ones for '05 - I still love my 2004 commemorative cicada T from '04) or for the ice cream man who swings by at the end of the shows.

I'll have more about Ft. Reno (including pics) real soon.

Live 8 TV Letdown

2005-07-06T15:01:00.000-04:00

I was waiting and waiting for some amazing revelation about why MTV's coverage of Live 8 disappointed nearly everyone who watched. But nothing revelatory has zipped across my synapses. You can find some good pix and a discussion about Viacom's failure to dedicate each of its main music channels to the event on the Philly Future blog. I regret not trying AOL's all-day coverage. We should've multi-channeled the hell out of this at my house. Instead it was only dual-channeled - XM on the main stereo from 9 a.m. Eastern until 8 p.m., MTV from noon until six and then a DVR grab of the ABC show from 8 p.m. to 10 p.m.

9:30 Doc Doesn't Know What Time It Is

2005-07-06T02:44:00.000-04:00

... And at the end of the night, as I pulled on to U St., I saw a sticker with the classic Black Flag bars stuck to the back bumper of a fancy white Cadillac. A strange ending to a strange night.

Oh, would you prefer that I start at the beginning? That odd juxtaposition was one of the most intriguing scenes from my Friday night at the 9:30. I went to check out the third (and last?) local screening of the documentary film about the original club. And to get a free commemorative T-shirt, which were all out of stock when I showed up (but I did get an IOU to pick up a shirt next time I'm at the club). There was no cover charge, so I wasn't upset about the shirt-less action.

The club's ad also promised a DJ set that would remind everybody of the old days. From my perch at the top bar, equipped only with a glass of ice water, a City Paper and a frighteningly fogged memory, I played a lame game of "Name that Tune" (I had time to kill - the film didn't start for another 75 minutes!). I recognized Patti Smith's "Gloria" but couldn't identify the next one, a wall-thumper with bursts of guitar and what sounded like little kids engaged in a sword fight - but with big spoons clanging together instead of sharp objects. I couldn't pull the follow-up tune, which droned like a Velvet Underground song but steered out of the city grime with a more upbeat vocalist. A Replacements track with a simple, beefy drum beat was next, but the name still hasn't materialized as I write this on Monday.

My drain-bramaged musical sensibilities coupled with an empty main floor made me wonder if I should've just stayed home. I didn't recognize any old timers from the club, which would've led to some great reminiscing. I soldiered on, recognizing the mammoth keyboard swells of Faith No More's big hit (another one that I couldn't name until days later), then finally ending my dry spell with the Pixies ("Planet of Sound" - they were too big for the club by the time this one came out), Sonic Youth ("Death Valley '69"), Rollins Band ("Ghostrider" with its wicked, relentless four-note death riff), Nirvana ("Smells Like Teen Spirit" - the DJ was thrashing like it was 1992).

The movie got rolling on a big screen above the stage, and the main floor hosted about 100 people (sitting or laying out), with lots of other people ringing the balconies. Overall, the doc left me flat. The novice directors depended too heavily on talking-head flashbacks, which were only mildly interesting, and never approached the excitement, volume and thrill of a night at the "dirty thirty." The source material was there - the amazing flyers that embodied the avante garde, groundbreaking spirit of the club - but instead of layering the fliers throughout, the filmmakers spent a few minutes explaining the impact and showing examples. The performance clips made me wish for an entire film of these flashbacks - Guy with huge hair during a Rites of Spring show, a bizarre Devo song intro complete with weird masks and costumes, Ian at his most righteous in Embrace.

The intersplicing of commentary from Ian and the club's founder (Dodi Disanto) as they described the emergence of punk matinees was a highlight. And I felt a few hairs raise when listening to a comment about having to wait in that long hallway before coming into the club, and how it created this amazing sense of anticipation for fans. I couldn't trigger the horrible stench of the club in my long-term memory, even during an extended section about the stink and the huge rats that marauded in the back alley. In addition to Ian, the directors talked to photographer Brian Liu, Mark Anderson from Positive Force, Chris Haskett, Peter Buck from R.E.M., some of the old 9:30 staff, the current owners, a couple of guys from Lucy Brown, a dude from Clutch and H.R. from Bad Brains.

During the finale, when interviewees discussed the closing of the old club, the movie stopped and skipped back to one of the earlier scenes. Everyone groaned, looked around, and then just shrugged as the DJ flipped on a song and fast-forwarded to the ending credits. That was not the kind of spontaneous excitement I was hoping for. I shuffled out, happy to relive the memories but wishing for more of a charge. A few of the exiting patrons looked too young to ever have a seen a show at the old, oddly configured Atlantis Building club. For the rest of us, including that Black Flag-loving Cadillac guy, we miss those nights on F Street.

9:30 Doc Airs Again

2005-07-01T15:20:00.000-04:00

I'm supposed be cleaning my house for a party on Saturday. But I might just bail out to catch the third area screening of the 9:30 Club documentary. You always remember your first downtown rock club, right? And for me, there was nothing cooler, trendier, mysterious and habit-forming than the original 9:30 Club on F St. in Northwest D.C. I'm guessing the film spends most of its run time on the Straight Edge and early punk scene. I missed all of that action - Bad Brains, the original lineup of Dischord bands and the nationally touring acts that found a home and an appreciative audience in the corridors of the club. But if the filmmakers snagged amazing live footage, it'll be worth seeing.

It's wishful thinking that the film will zip through my retina and whipsaw my the long-term memory into dislodging the excitement and anxiety I felt walking through the first floor entrance to the club and waiting in line to hear the rules about hand-stamping and zero tolerance for underage drinkers. Excitement because of the great bands who stopped in during the early '90s - groups like Superchunk, the Breeders, Unrest, Dinosaur Jr. And anxiety because of the ride from UMD at College Park down Rhode Island Ave. and through the middle of the city. The neighborhood was kinda rocky then, and I always wondered if my car would still be there when I walked out of another sweaty, ear-drum bursting show.

If the doc's directors can shake loose just a splash of those sensations, it's worth my trip. If you're in D.C. on July 1 and want to re-live your memories of the club, find a way to get to 815 V St. NW.

Live8 Reunion rumors

2005-06-30T15:10:00.000-04:00

I was never a Pink Floyd fan so the Live8 reunion means zippy for me. With just two days before this mega-mega-mega show, it's time to speculate, dream and wish for some ultimate reunions. The likelihood for any of these is basically nil, but that's the fun of it. Geldof's endless Rolodex and the fact that the reunions would help drum up money for charity makes anything plausible.

Here's the lineup:

The Smiths (oh I wish! - I'd even take just Morrissey and Marr)
Prince and the Revolution
Jackson Five
James Brown, Maceo Parker, Bootsy Collins
Pavement
Fugazi (not officially broken up but damn this is a long hiatus)
Stetsasonic

Which reunion ideas are you making you drool?

Bienvenidos

2005-06-27T03:10:00.000-04:00

Microphone check. Welcome to Bass Beats Treble. Stage lights on, amps on, let's do this.