Key To Music Grades
A - You will never be whole without it
B - Highly recommended
C - Flawed, but still pretty good
D - It's your money, not mine
F - Why couldn't this have been burned in Fahrenheit 451?
B - Highly recommended
C - Flawed, but still pretty good
D - It's your money, not mine
F - Why couldn't this have been burned in Fahrenheit 451?
Sunday, October 31, 2010
I was treated to the music of Pink Floyd from Spider-Man, Nurse-Man, Karate-Man and Monster-Man for three or so hours. Not much really to say other than that they continue to provide me with reasons to see them every year for their spot-on renditions of Floyd classics and obscure gems. "Wot's...Uh The Deal" was a surprise inclusion as was "Careful With That Axe, Eugene" to open the show. I also think it was ballsy to exclude songs like "Comfortably Numb," "One Of These Days," etc. But that's how great Floyd's music is -- you actually don't need to hear everything in order for it to be a great show. I wanted to hear "Comfortably Numb," but I'm not all that upset I didn't hear it. All in all, great show again. Thanks guys.
Careful With That Axe, Eugene
In The Flesh
The Thin Ice
Another Brick In The Wall, Part 1
The Happiest Days Of Our Lives
Another Brick In The Wall, Part 2
Speak To Me/Breathe
Shine On You Crazy Diamond
Signs Of Life
Learning To Fly
Welcome To The Machine
Wot's...Uh, The Deal
Set The Controls For The Heart Of The Sun
Wish You Were Here
Any Colour You Like
Waiting For The Worms
Outside The Wall
Thursday, October 28, 2010
One of the newly minted releases from the collaborative efforts of artist-driven labels Ipecac Recordings and Rekords Rekords ("Starting A Revolution Against Shitty Rock!"), October 5th marked the day that Alain Johannes stopping being a sideman. Previously a founding member of Eleven with his late partner Natasha Shneider, from whom this album draws all of its real energy, as well as a member of Queens of the Stone Age, Chris Cornell's backing band and recently, anyone who's caught a Them Crooked Vultures show will recognize Alain as the fourth vulture -- yes, the guy not named Josh Homme who can also fucking shred. Initially intended as a limited distribution release a.k.a to his friends, Homme persuaded him to show his work to the world, and praise be to the Ginger Elvis for that.
The album is pretty raw and confessional, and unlike other bands who write on the verge of ambiguity and allude to various general topics such as pain, happiness, confusion, sorrow, loss, beauty, etc., this is pretty real and startling because of it. I mean, if you listen to this record, all 29 minutes of it, and don't find yourself considerably moved, I honestly don't know what to tell you. Actually, I do. But I'll leave it to you to imagine what verbal cruelty I've spared you from. As the cover shows, Alain plies his trade on a cigar box guitar, which he uses to employ a variety of guitar stylings, most often in complex harmonies. "Endless Eyes" is probably the most direct in regards to his late partner and features intense guitar playing and such lyrics as, "It's killing me that I must go on living." Tell me you don't want to buy this guy a beer. Also, lest I forgot, this guy can sing really well. If anyone's heard "Making A Cross" from the Desert Sessions, that is indeed him singing both verses, one in a fairly high register, one in a low register. Impressive eh? "Gentle Ghosts" is just sick. Due to my own guitar shortcomings, I find it difficult to imagine playing some of the lines on this one. "Make God Jealous" is equally awesome, a showcase of Alain's prodigious talent with the stringed instrument. "Spider" is Natasha's nickname and features some oddly phrased guitar lines. All in all, a very short listen, but very sad, very beautiful and very powerful. This is what happens when you play all the instruments and produce it and you aren't a megalomaniac. Trust me, it's so fucking good. B+
Sunday, October 24, 2010
While I haven't followed these guys from the beginning, I did have the benefit of enjoying them before they received massive exposure from playing award shows, Twilight soundtracks and as the opening act for such notable contemporary blowhards like U2, I was nonetheless disappointed by their concert, a mostly lifeless and mechanical rendering of their songs, and many popular singles at that. I suppose this is what comes at the price of filling up giant arenas and having legions of newly-minted mindless head-bobbers who want anthems and ballads and sing-alongs, elaborate stage wizardry and lights (which were cool, no complaints) and a general feel-good time. I was less than pleased at the unquestionably short 90 minute length of the show, the lack of an encore (unless two minutes before "Exogenesis" counts as an encore), and the enormous technical mistake, hereafter referred to as THE WTF MOMENT. Midway through Bellamy's warbling erratic wah wah sequence of the solo in "New Born," the sound suddenly got sucked out of the Coliseum. With a moment reflecting the sheer incredulity of his audience, Bellamy threw his hands up as if to say, ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?, and the band promptly left the stage for a few minutes. To their credit, in rather humorous fashion, the band began again right smack at the heart of the solo, a testament perhaps more to their pristine routine than anything else. What else? Bellamy, an absolutely phenomenal vocalist, composer, pianist and guitarist was pretty much absent from the keys, only playing two songs if I recall, a marked departure from what made this band so unique.
So was anything good? Yes, "Knights" was amazing. Maybe the band was happy they were ending the show, I don't know, but it was energetic and provided a glimpse of why this band used to be so dynamic. Ditto for "Stockholm Syndrome," "Hysteria," "Problematique," "Eurasia," and a few others. The interlude "jams" were also interesting, if not for the fact that I had heard them "spontaneously" played before as well, in addition to some brief minute covers of "House of the Rising Sun," "Star Spangled Banner," some Zeppelin, etc. All in all, a very disappointing show by a band I fear has become hideously enslaved by the fickle whims of a commercial consuming public, despite the fact that I still love most of their music. It's a shame such amazing talent gets wasted for people who have no true appreciation for what they are hearing and are more concerned with waving their hands, taking obnoxious pictures and video with their iPhones and feeling bedazzled by visual displays, which, ultimately, hide the fact that the band is bored and should never be allowed to play "Undisclosed Desires" ever. C
Here's what I thought was the setlist:
Map of the Problematique
Super Massive Black Hole
United States of Eurasia
Time Is Running Out
Plug In Baby
Exogenesis: Symphony Part 1 (Overture)
Knights of Cydonia
Thursday, October 14, 2010
What could I possibly write that could somehow add to what I've already said a few days ago? Um ... I had better seats? I liked seeing it twice? Pigs are really underrated? A-
Thursday, October 7, 2010
Monstrous inflatable marionettes, a flying pig with party slogans, a flock of children singing something about education and wearing shirts bearing the message "Fear builds walls," the crash and din of music interspersed with babies and bombs and erratic television crackles, and a wall, so imperceptibly constructed steadily over the course of the album's tense first half that I here and now must raucously applaud whomever created the set design and those in the stage crew who seamlessly metastasized such a wonderful visual spectacle for me -- and everyone else, too. Yet the "bricks" in the wall were not just to physically isolate the band from the rest of the audience, but also to function as an enormous video screen (enormous being too understated, really) to showcase the various themes surrounding the album: animations of scenes from the film, photos of deceased military members from all wars, visuals of planes dropping bombs shaped as crucifixes, crescents and stars (which has garnered some controversy; Google it), as well as Shell and Mercedes logos and some good old-fashioned dollar signs. For those expecting Mr. Waters to sing like he was thirty years younger, he does, actually, on the screen from some footage of "Mother" from the 1980 tour; the current version sings along with him. Basically, go see this if you can. I am. Again. In five days. Try to not buy seats on the extreme left or right sides of whatever venue, and comfort yourself to the fact that, while this is not Pink Floyd, it's the closest thing you're going to get to see them ever again anyway. A- (the minus is for lack of Gilmour, the standard for anything involving Floyd).
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
Originally recorded in 1979 in the best studio known to man -- a basement -- this collection of gems shows us the Brains on the up and up, still bearing some of their Pistols influence, especially H.R's trilled sneering on "Redbone In The City," and playing at a slightly subdued tempo. Hearing slowed-down earlier versions of their debut album isn't a problem though, because their debut album was superinsanelyfilthyfuckingfantasticawesome, and these versions simply give you more time to appreciate that. (Understanding H.R.'s lyrics is an added benefit as well.) For me, this album shows exactly why the Brains are the greatest hardcore punk band ever, not because this collection is the greatest compendium of punk music, but precisely because it is not. If this was all the Brains ever released, or if they released a few just like this, they'd probably have a decent niche following today. But as we know from their debut -- a manic display of searing musical riffage interspersed with reggae, the pinnacle and standard of hardcore punk -- that is clearly not the case. Aside from that, any fan of the Brains probably already has this, but for those who'd like to hear what they sounded like before everyone tried to sound like them, this is an excellent listen. Like at least 50 times on my part, much to the chagrin of my wife. A-
Sunday, April 25, 2010
Rumors of this guitar virtuoso's musical death have been greatly exaggerrated. No, she doesn't do that "tapping" thing on her new album and it wasn't prominent in the show, either, because she was too busy rocking the fucking out. Is this what everyone wants to hear and see? A musician stuck in the confines of her audience's desires, which is probably the equivalent of eating camembert cheese with boysenberries. Let her do what she wants.
That said, great show. It was a nice mix of rockers ("Falling Day," "Death Head," and a variety of acoustic instrumentals, those that got her attention in the first place and some new ones. I never tire of "Pink Noise." "Bone Chaos" was pretty searing as usual; it's one of those manic displays of guitar awesomeness that makes you stop whatever you're doing. Which reminds me of something: she doesn't have a bass player. The guy posing as one was toting (I had to google this) and electronic EVI synth; it's basically like an electronic trumpet that you can play pretty much everything on, including bass. The guy was pretty impressive. Her drummer, too, reminded me of Stewart Copeland for his loose and varied style.
For her encore, Kaki brought out the lap-steel and started looping several guitar parts for "Gay Sons" with an added bass and drum backbeat until it became a kind of dance tune. She then jumped into the audience and started dancing. It was pretty awesome. Then she let everyone know her and the band would be drinking beers at the merchandise table. Cue Bowery staff, who, in the spirit of every good aftermath to rock and roll shows, cough cough, told us to make our way to the door and get the fuck out. Gotta love the way things are now. On a side note to that, NYC music venues are sucking ass. Last time I was at the Bowery years ago, it was fucking righteous. It's turned into a clean, sterile vapid place. I believe the word they use in housing development is "gentrification." The same feel can be applied here.
Bone Chaos In The Castle
Life Being What It Is
Pull Me Out Alive
Playing With Pink Noise
All The Landslides Birds Have Seen Since The Beginning Of The World
Doing The Wrong Thing
Everything Has An End, Even Sadness
Spit It Back In My Mouth
You Don't Have To Be Afraid
Hallucinations From My Poisonous German Streets
Gays Sons Of Lesbian Mothers
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
A combination of their first two EPs, Minor Threat and In My Eyes, this album is like a series of uppercuts to the face -- for ten minutes. Straight edge punk at its finest. I shall waste no further words. Go on and get it, however way you wish. A
Monday, April 5, 2010
For those unaware of what this is, please read here briefly for an explanation.
Eric fucking Clapton is a wanking tired third-rate claptrap of a bluesplayer. If he could suck his own dick, he would slobber over it slowly like a worn blues lick he got caught in-between his teeth. He's overrated and if he had children, his most notable abortion would be SRV and his insistence that you hear the same 'ol blues, but faster! And then when he plays it fast-like and you ooh and you ahhh and you gimme some more moloko, he's plays the same damn thing again, but faster! OMFG. The only thing worse than this bastard's blistering blues is no blues, no soul, check-my-shades-bitch Satriani, who could probably lose a battle of emoticons texting with himself, just because he'd get confused on the origins of a smile or a wink or anything with a fucking soul.
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
Having recently listened to the newly released Valleys Of Neptune, I thought to myself, I need to review Electric Ladyland. Then, as testament to my prolonged absences here, I realized that I had already written it. Boink. So here's to all the picked-seconds of the world, I'm rubbing you Axis: Bold As Love. Like the opening to Electric, Axis begins with a waste of my time, the insipid avant-garde emptiness of "EXP." From there, it's a smattering of musical styles: the wah wah breeziness in "Up From The Skies" -- replete with tasty brush taps. Actually, let me interrupt myself. Mitch Mitchell gets his cake and he's probably eaten so much of it, he's had massive intestinal stoppage, but everyone still talks about Hendrix first and foremost, and I'd like to say, Mitch, you were awesome. There, I feel better. "Ain't No Telling" is a my favorite non-famous Hendrix track. If you haven't heard it -- seriously? "Castles Made Of Sand" is one of those songs that you play for people when you want them to hear what Hendrix was all about. "Little Wing" is, in my opinion, one of the few perfect songs ever written. Period. If you've ever wanted to hear an album end like it was a mad flower bursting into bloom, then listen to the last minute or so of "Bold As Love." This album is sonically exquisite. I have nothing but excess verbal superfluity in making an ass of myself otherwse. Enjoy. A
Monday, March 1, 2010
I apologize in advance if my return is short-lived. I'm fairly certain I've been writing to an empty auditorium recently and can only fondly remember the rather robust discussions this site used to have once upon a time. Now the site seems more of a running catalog of unrelated individualistic comments. R.I.P. Bob, Chuck, Cianan, Starr, and whoever I'm missing at the moment.
That said, Dan over at Layla's Classic Rock has unwittingly introduced me to Spirit recently. Three weeks after reading his post, I've now listened to their first four albums dozens of times with stupendous glee. And Sardonicus, friends, is a fucking doozy of an album, mostly attributable, dare I say it, to the drumming. Ed Cassidy is not a drumming god. I wouldn't know his bald head from any other bald head, but damn, he's got this jazzy looseness to him that I think acts as the thread of the album. He's got some nice fills on "Prelude - Nothing To Hide" and "Morning Will Come," to name a few. Randy California is no slouch, either -- if drumming is the thread, the guitar is the needle sewing up all the right spots, from the greasy fuzz slide on "Prelude," the explosive noodling in "Street Worm" or the artful stabbing notes in "Morning." Throw in some brass, piano and some really nice vocal harmonies ("Nature's Way") and you've got, if you're me, the best discovery of 2010, which is shaping up to be a shitter otherwise. Mad Hatter, over and out, pluterperfectly.