One of my favorite things about going to shows is reliving them afterward through bootlegs and YouTube videos. Here are some of my favorite moments from shows where it just baffles me that I was there and saw these moments live and in person.
Motorhead - "The Game" (April 1, 2001)
This is a horrible performance because Lemmy forgets all the lyrics, but it's fucking Motorhead! This was the first time I had ever seen a band perform live. I was nine years old at the time and Motorhead did kick my ass. It was one of the founding moments of my love of live music, strangely enough happening at a wrestling event!
Metallica - "Blackened" (November 16, 2004)
The first time I ever saw a band live at a real concert and what a way to open a show! "Blackened" is a total classic from my favorite Metallica album, ...And Justice for All. Hetfield's voice is trashed here, but it was still amazing for me to experience as my first real concert experience.
Heaven and Hell (May 2, 2007)
Back when this show happened, there were tons of videos from it on YouTube, but they've all since been removed. Thanks, Warner Music Group. Anyway, I mention it anyway because it was a very important show for me. For one thing, Black Sabbath was my first favorite band and I will always love them. Second, it was the reunion of Black Sabbath with Ronnie James Dio, which was a major event. Third, it was the second to last time Dio and Black Sabbath played in Houston before Dio died. So it was a pretty big deal and it disappoints me that I can't see videos of it on YouTube anymore.
Down (November 13, 2007)
Likewise, there's no videos from this one on YouTube anymore. I mention it because it was another important show for me. It was the first time I went to a show at a smaller venue than a stadium. I instantly realized how much more fun it was and I've had a stance against stadium shows ever since, unless the band is just absolutely too big to play anywhere else.
The Mars Volta - "Cygnus... Vismund Cygnus" (April 14, 2008)
This was a big one for me because it was the first time I got to see my favorite band live. I've seen them do better shows than this one, but nothing will match the experience of the first time seeing the Volta. In my opinion, they're the greatest live band on earth and I will follow them anywhere. I post this video because it may be the craziest I've ever seen Cedric and it was pretty significant at the time, being that Cedric flipped out at a guy with a Jon Theodore poster and cussed him out. "IF YOU MISS JON SO MUCH, WHY DON'T YOU GO TO CALIFORNIA AND SUCK HIS FUCKIN' DICK, BRO?"
Roger Waters - "Sheep" (May 4, 2008)
Pink Floyd was a band I loved even before Black Sabbath, even before I knew who Pink Floyd really were. They'll always be one of my favorites and one of the greatest bands of all time. Seeing Roger Waters doing their classics was insane and this was one of the greatest moments: when he busted out the pig. It's covered in pro-Obama, anti-Bush graffiti, which made me even happier to see.
Iron Maiden - "Hallowed Be Thy Name" (May 22, 2008)
This entire concert was crazy, doing all those classics that they never play for this tour only, and I almost posted a more obscure song like "Moonchild" or "Rime of the Ancient Mariner" just because they busted out those awesome deep cuts, but this is one of their greatest songs and the perfect way to close things out.
The Mars Volta - "Goliath" (September 26, 2008)
This was the second time I saw the Volta, after waiting all day at Austin City Limits for it. This is, in my opinion, one of the greatest jams they've ever done. I wish there was a real bootleg of it, but I still play this YouTube video all the time.
Morrissey - "How Soon is Now?" (April 11, 2009)
Morrissey is one of my heroes. During this song, he gave a speech about the meaning of the song and essentially warned against being like the person in the song. It really impacted me in a big way and I've lived my life with that in mind ever since.
I'll continue this article tomorrow with concerts throughout the rest of 2009 and in 2010.
Saturday, October 30, 2010
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
REPRINT SERIES: Ximena Sariñana at the House of Blues (5/27/10)
[Ed. Note: Reprints presented as always without edits.]
Ximena Sariñana is not a name that many know this side of the border, but she's quite famous in Mexico. She started her career at eight years old, acting and singing, and finally released her first album, Mediocre, in 2008. It caught the attention of many, including Rolling Stone, hit #10 on Billboard's Latin Pop Albums chart, got her nominated for two Latin Grammy's (Best New Artist and Best Alternative Song for album highlight "Normal"), and won a Grammy for Best Latin Rock/Alternative Album. In 2009, she caught many ears, including mine, when she started appearing on albums by her significant other, Omar Rodriguez-Lopez of the Mars Volta. They've released four critically acclaimed albums together and toured a few times. Now Ximena is making her away around the US on her own. Being a Mars Volta superfan, not to mention a fan of Ximena's record, I had to check out her live show when I found out she was coming through Houston.
Initially, it was a bit of a culture shock as I found myself in the vast minority of the audience at the House of Blues last night, being a young anglo kid from the suburbs. In fact, one woman even asked me who I was there for. When I replied that I was there to see Ximena, she seemed genuinely surprised I knew who she was. But by the time Ximena took the stage, I was quickly united with the rest of the audience in shared mesmerization.
At first I felt a slight pang of disappointment when Ximena walked up to the tiny Bronze Peacock Room stage by herself and stood in front of a simple keyboard set-up. I had gone in expecting a full band set-up as on her album, but what could have been a standard pop rock performance became an intimate singer-songwriter set instead. Ximena started off slow, playing it low and quit, with the excited, screaming audience that filled the Bronze Peacock Room wall-to-wall almost drowning her out, but quickly she escalated and began pouring her all in the music. Soon the audience quieted down, enchanted by Ximena's heart and soul crying out through her music. There were lighter moments, but she truly shined on the ballads.
The easy highlight of the set was a performance of the title track from her album Mediocre. She truly let loose on it, sending her voice soaring on the chorus to a round of applause. Towards the end of the song, she broke off and in the brief silence the audience rapturously congratulated her. Then with a gracious smile, she launched back into the song with full force, finishing it out with a bang.
At the end of almost every song, Ximena spoke a little bit. Though I couldn't understand most of what she said, there was one word I did pick up. "Gracias," which she repeated over and over. A simple, honest gesture as she seemed truly amazed by the turn-out and the love of the crowd. With all the energy we gave, she gave back one hundred percent, going through a set of all the songs on Mediocre and some that I assume will be on the new album she's recording right now. More than anything, I got a feel for her true talent as a songwriter from the stripped-down versions of her songs. Without the addition of a lot of backing instruments, in fact just a laptop, the melodies and heart shone through so much more than on the album.
When the show was over, Ximena humbly took to the merch table to sign autographs and take pictures with everyone that lined up. It was a great way to end the night, with another genuine show of appreciation towards her fans.
Ximena Sariñana is not a name that many know this side of the border, but she's quite famous in Mexico. She started her career at eight years old, acting and singing, and finally released her first album, Mediocre, in 2008. It caught the attention of many, including Rolling Stone, hit #10 on Billboard's Latin Pop Albums chart, got her nominated for two Latin Grammy's (Best New Artist and Best Alternative Song for album highlight "Normal"), and won a Grammy for Best Latin Rock/Alternative Album. In 2009, she caught many ears, including mine, when she started appearing on albums by her significant other, Omar Rodriguez-Lopez of the Mars Volta. They've released four critically acclaimed albums together and toured a few times. Now Ximena is making her away around the US on her own. Being a Mars Volta superfan, not to mention a fan of Ximena's record, I had to check out her live show when I found out she was coming through Houston.
Initially, it was a bit of a culture shock as I found myself in the vast minority of the audience at the House of Blues last night, being a young anglo kid from the suburbs. In fact, one woman even asked me who I was there for. When I replied that I was there to see Ximena, she seemed genuinely surprised I knew who she was. But by the time Ximena took the stage, I was quickly united with the rest of the audience in shared mesmerization.
At first I felt a slight pang of disappointment when Ximena walked up to the tiny Bronze Peacock Room stage by herself and stood in front of a simple keyboard set-up. I had gone in expecting a full band set-up as on her album, but what could have been a standard pop rock performance became an intimate singer-songwriter set instead. Ximena started off slow, playing it low and quit, with the excited, screaming audience that filled the Bronze Peacock Room wall-to-wall almost drowning her out, but quickly she escalated and began pouring her all in the music. Soon the audience quieted down, enchanted by Ximena's heart and soul crying out through her music. There were lighter moments, but she truly shined on the ballads.
The easy highlight of the set was a performance of the title track from her album Mediocre. She truly let loose on it, sending her voice soaring on the chorus to a round of applause. Towards the end of the song, she broke off and in the brief silence the audience rapturously congratulated her. Then with a gracious smile, she launched back into the song with full force, finishing it out with a bang.
At the end of almost every song, Ximena spoke a little bit. Though I couldn't understand most of what she said, there was one word I did pick up. "Gracias," which she repeated over and over. A simple, honest gesture as she seemed truly amazed by the turn-out and the love of the crowd. With all the energy we gave, she gave back one hundred percent, going through a set of all the songs on Mediocre and some that I assume will be on the new album she's recording right now. More than anything, I got a feel for her true talent as a songwriter from the stripped-down versions of her songs. Without the addition of a lot of backing instruments, in fact just a laptop, the melodies and heart shone through so much more than on the album.
When the show was over, Ximena humbly took to the merch table to sign autographs and take pictures with everyone that lined up. It was a great way to end the night, with another genuine show of appreciation towards her fans.
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
REPRINT SERIES: Hating on Blue October (5/17/10)
[Ed. Note: Yep, it's the infamous Blue October article. Presented without edits, it's a bit less harsh actually. Still, I think Furstenfeld fans will still have plenty to hate me for while reading this.]
When I heard Blue October was playing a hometown show here in Houston at Sam Houston Race Park, I laughed. When 94.5 The Buzz pushed, promoted, and prodded me about the show, I laughed. When my best friend's girlfriend played Blue October in the car, I laughed. When 29-95 sent me an e-mail with the question "who wants to see Blue October?" I laughed. After all, this is the same show that had been something of a running joke among me and my friends. But I am the sort of person that loves the whole meta-ironic hipster bullshit enough to actually jump on an opportunity like that. So of course, in between laughing, I threw my hat in the ring to go to the show. I didn't actually think I'd get to do it, but sure enough come Saturday I was strolling up to the race track to pick up my press pass.
The whole thing was a bit of a crazy experience for me. I've never been a member of the press before, not officially anyway. This was the legit sort of thing I had always heard about but had never been a part of before. When I arrived, my name was on a list and instead of a ticket, they handed me a green cloth sticker to put on my shirt to identify myself. Then, through much asking around, I found out about a secret security tunnel where I was loaded up in a golf cart and driven to the VIP area in front of the stage and told I had access to the holy grail of concert seating: the area between the barricade holding back the front row of fans and the stage itself. The place where the security stands. This was the scene behind me:
It's a bit breath-taking to say the least. I took it in stride of course because you always have to keep your cool when doing something amazingly cool. So I stood around, looking amazingly out of place among the photographers with my old torn skinny jeans, filthy old Chuck Taylors that have been through at least three near-death experiences with me, my ever-present hoodie that I will wear even in humid, awful Houston weather, and my complete lack of a real camera. This even earned me a questioning about whether I should even be allowed in that area since I wasn't actually shooting the show, to which I simply pulled out my trusty iPhone and reassured everyone that I was indeed taking pictures that night.
(picture of the Black and White Years)
So I did take pictures, snapping away right when the opening band hit the stage. The Black and White Years are a band from Austin that could probably more appropriately be called "the Reagan Years" given the music they play. These guys fit right in with the current wave of indie new wave bands resurrecting that 80's danceability the kids all love so much. They're a direct product of false nostalgia by a generation that has no identity of its own and wants the identity of a previous generation. So they're basically your average iPod commercial band these days. Being a bitter, cynical, hipster doofus, I wanted to hate them but they were rather fun. Yeasayer and Phoenix are two favorite recent bands of mine and the Black and White Years are like a less weird, less imaginative, less inventive, even more radio friendly version of those bands' sounds mixed together, so there's something shamefully enjoyable about them like fast food. Actually, to be completely honest, if you were to judge just off the two band bill on Saturday night, you might walk away thinking Austin still has a leg up on Houston for good music, even though that's not true at all. The Black and White Years are a general representation of what Austin's music scene has become nowadays, whereas Houston's hometown heroes are, let us admit it, the worst possible representation anyone could ever judge Houston's music scene by, which I assume is where the New York Times went horribly wrong recently.
Blue October are one of the most shamelessly commercial bullshit bands to ever come out of the entirety of Texas, but they try to maintain a sort of image about themselves, or at least frontman Justin Furstenfeld does. Take, for example, what you can see in this picture of the man. Black eyeliner and black fingernail polish to connect with a sub-section of kids that enjoy getting beaten up in high school. Scuffless, probably brand new Chuck Taylors because that's what punks wear and there's literally nothing more punk than post-grunge radio rock! Of course, I saved the best for last, the mohawk. The mohawk is a hairstyle that could not be any less rebellious today if it tried. The evolution of the mohawk traces back hundreds of years, but is perhaps most relevant in the last fifty years thanks to Travis Bickle and punks of the 1980's. Today, it doesn't so much represent them as it does Green Day fans.
The problem here, of course, is what you can't see. Picking up on the Green Day comparison, at least when they sold out, they did it in a way where it's fun to sing their songs while drunk on karaoke night (I defy you to deny singing along to "Boulevard of Broken Dreams" at some point in your life), whereas Blue October's particular brand is to be as absolutely dark as possible while still connecting emotionally with preteens. Justin Furstenfeld isn't a happy man and he'll be the first to remind you of that by constantly mentioning it at concerts, something also known as the sympathy vote.
What you can't see in the pictures are the band's bizarre attempts at being all things to all people. Their songs range from your typical post-grunge, Papa Roach-biting "curse and yell a lot because it's edgy and man I hate myself and want to die" tactic to some truly baffling dabbling in other genres. Normally I wouldn't be against a band experimenting, but it's sad to watch when a band is so clearly incapable of pulling off their own experiments. Occasionally, Blue October have decided to explore such genres as cash-grab adult contemporary influenced by Peter Gabriel, complete with violin gimmick, which works about as well you would think it would. At other times, Furstenfeld has chosen to start speaking in a British accent, which is very odd considering how insistent he is that Blue October is FROM HERE (also known as the hometown cheap pop). Then there's the "we have a sensitive side too" songs which are like the AC songs except slightly less vapid because they occasionally have a real sentiment behind them.
The nadir of the show was one such experiment where Furstenfeld dedicated the following song to his daughter, Blue. That's sweet and all, but the song was just punishingly awful. With a chorus of "up down, up down, up down, up down, yeah, cause it will get hard, remember, life's like a jump rope" it's the sort of thing you imagine that started as something Furstenfeld sang to his daughter in a tender father-daughter moment that has misguidededly taken on a life of its own as a real Blue October song.
But I could sit here and gripe all day and all night. This clearly isn't for me. I'm not the target demographic for music like this. The target demographic is the audience you saw above. Take a good long look at it. That's just what I could show with the limited capabilities of my iPhone's camera. That's just the front of the VIP section. Sam Houston Race Park was FULL. Filled to capacity. How many people were actually there, I can't say. I can, however, say that it explains why Blue October is a platinum-selling band when nobody even buys albums anymore. Something about them resonates with a great deal of people out there that are not me. So while Blue October is a running joke between me and my friends and I can write paragraph after paragraph about what a truly terrible band they are, they connect with enough people to populate a small country. You can make your arguments about what that says about those people or what it says about Justin Bieber fans or the people that keep the guys that make parody movies in business, but that gets into something entirely more philosophical and misanthropic than the point I'm trying to make. The point is that Blue October is doing something right because people like them for some reason. I don't know what that reason is and it's not for me to know because, like I said, I'm not the person they're trying to connect with. So kudos to them on possessing that certain something that captures the ear of the majority of people. Live and let live, eh?
When I heard Blue October was playing a hometown show here in Houston at Sam Houston Race Park, I laughed. When 94.5 The Buzz pushed, promoted, and prodded me about the show, I laughed. When my best friend's girlfriend played Blue October in the car, I laughed. When 29-95 sent me an e-mail with the question "who wants to see Blue October?" I laughed. After all, this is the same show that had been something of a running joke among me and my friends. But I am the sort of person that loves the whole meta-ironic hipster bullshit enough to actually jump on an opportunity like that. So of course, in between laughing, I threw my hat in the ring to go to the show. I didn't actually think I'd get to do it, but sure enough come Saturday I was strolling up to the race track to pick up my press pass.
The whole thing was a bit of a crazy experience for me. I've never been a member of the press before, not officially anyway. This was the legit sort of thing I had always heard about but had never been a part of before. When I arrived, my name was on a list and instead of a ticket, they handed me a green cloth sticker to put on my shirt to identify myself. Then, through much asking around, I found out about a secret security tunnel where I was loaded up in a golf cart and driven to the VIP area in front of the stage and told I had access to the holy grail of concert seating: the area between the barricade holding back the front row of fans and the stage itself. The place where the security stands. This was the scene behind me:
It's a bit breath-taking to say the least. I took it in stride of course because you always have to keep your cool when doing something amazingly cool. So I stood around, looking amazingly out of place among the photographers with my old torn skinny jeans, filthy old Chuck Taylors that have been through at least three near-death experiences with me, my ever-present hoodie that I will wear even in humid, awful Houston weather, and my complete lack of a real camera. This even earned me a questioning about whether I should even be allowed in that area since I wasn't actually shooting the show, to which I simply pulled out my trusty iPhone and reassured everyone that I was indeed taking pictures that night.
(picture of the Black and White Years)
So I did take pictures, snapping away right when the opening band hit the stage. The Black and White Years are a band from Austin that could probably more appropriately be called "the Reagan Years" given the music they play. These guys fit right in with the current wave of indie new wave bands resurrecting that 80's danceability the kids all love so much. They're a direct product of false nostalgia by a generation that has no identity of its own and wants the identity of a previous generation. So they're basically your average iPod commercial band these days. Being a bitter, cynical, hipster doofus, I wanted to hate them but they were rather fun. Yeasayer and Phoenix are two favorite recent bands of mine and the Black and White Years are like a less weird, less imaginative, less inventive, even more radio friendly version of those bands' sounds mixed together, so there's something shamefully enjoyable about them like fast food. Actually, to be completely honest, if you were to judge just off the two band bill on Saturday night, you might walk away thinking Austin still has a leg up on Houston for good music, even though that's not true at all. The Black and White Years are a general representation of what Austin's music scene has become nowadays, whereas Houston's hometown heroes are, let us admit it, the worst possible representation anyone could ever judge Houston's music scene by, which I assume is where the New York Times went horribly wrong recently.
Blue October are one of the most shamelessly commercial bullshit bands to ever come out of the entirety of Texas, but they try to maintain a sort of image about themselves, or at least frontman Justin Furstenfeld does. Take, for example, what you can see in this picture of the man. Black eyeliner and black fingernail polish to connect with a sub-section of kids that enjoy getting beaten up in high school. Scuffless, probably brand new Chuck Taylors because that's what punks wear and there's literally nothing more punk than post-grunge radio rock! Of course, I saved the best for last, the mohawk. The mohawk is a hairstyle that could not be any less rebellious today if it tried. The evolution of the mohawk traces back hundreds of years, but is perhaps most relevant in the last fifty years thanks to Travis Bickle and punks of the 1980's. Today, it doesn't so much represent them as it does Green Day fans.
The problem here, of course, is what you can't see. Picking up on the Green Day comparison, at least when they sold out, they did it in a way where it's fun to sing their songs while drunk on karaoke night (I defy you to deny singing along to "Boulevard of Broken Dreams" at some point in your life), whereas Blue October's particular brand is to be as absolutely dark as possible while still connecting emotionally with preteens. Justin Furstenfeld isn't a happy man and he'll be the first to remind you of that by constantly mentioning it at concerts, something also known as the sympathy vote.
What you can't see in the pictures are the band's bizarre attempts at being all things to all people. Their songs range from your typical post-grunge, Papa Roach-biting "curse and yell a lot because it's edgy and man I hate myself and want to die" tactic to some truly baffling dabbling in other genres. Normally I wouldn't be against a band experimenting, but it's sad to watch when a band is so clearly incapable of pulling off their own experiments. Occasionally, Blue October have decided to explore such genres as cash-grab adult contemporary influenced by Peter Gabriel, complete with violin gimmick, which works about as well you would think it would. At other times, Furstenfeld has chosen to start speaking in a British accent, which is very odd considering how insistent he is that Blue October is FROM HERE (also known as the hometown cheap pop). Then there's the "we have a sensitive side too" songs which are like the AC songs except slightly less vapid because they occasionally have a real sentiment behind them.
The nadir of the show was one such experiment where Furstenfeld dedicated the following song to his daughter, Blue. That's sweet and all, but the song was just punishingly awful. With a chorus of "up down, up down, up down, up down, yeah, cause it will get hard, remember, life's like a jump rope" it's the sort of thing you imagine that started as something Furstenfeld sang to his daughter in a tender father-daughter moment that has misguidededly taken on a life of its own as a real Blue October song.
But I could sit here and gripe all day and all night. This clearly isn't for me. I'm not the target demographic for music like this. The target demographic is the audience you saw above. Take a good long look at it. That's just what I could show with the limited capabilities of my iPhone's camera. That's just the front of the VIP section. Sam Houston Race Park was FULL. Filled to capacity. How many people were actually there, I can't say. I can, however, say that it explains why Blue October is a platinum-selling band when nobody even buys albums anymore. Something about them resonates with a great deal of people out there that are not me. So while Blue October is a running joke between me and my friends and I can write paragraph after paragraph about what a truly terrible band they are, they connect with enough people to populate a small country. You can make your arguments about what that says about those people or what it says about Justin Bieber fans or the people that keep the guys that make parody movies in business, but that gets into something entirely more philosophical and misanthropic than the point I'm trying to make. The point is that Blue October is doing something right because people like them for some reason. I don't know what that reason is and it's not for me to know because, like I said, I'm not the person they're trying to connect with. So kudos to them on possessing that certain something that captures the ear of the majority of people. Live and let live, eh?
Saturday, August 21, 2010
REPRINT SERIES: KTRU compilation release show (4/19/10)
[Ed. Note: Continuing in our coverage of the demise of KTRU, here's another reprint, this one from the KTRU Live Vol. 2 CD release at Avant Garden. Presented without edits as always.]
It seems like just last week I was at Rice University, enjoying the KTRU Outdoor Show. Probably because it was just last week. One week later, KTRU held another event, not quite on the scale of the Outdoor Show but eventful all the same. On Friday night, KTRU threw a party at Avant Garden for the release of the second volume of their KTRU Live series, featuring live on-air performances from some of Houston's best local bands. Three of those bands turned out at the release party to play their songs from the album and more.
Not quite Listenlisten, but Ben (vocals and guitar) and Shane (horns and banjo) showed up to play some Listenlisten songs acoustically. It had a slightly more laid back feel to it, but since Listenlisten isn't an upbeat electric band to begin with, only having half the band just gave a different, not a better or worse, look at some of their songs. They covered some of their best material, but it was a very short set so it was missing a lot of favorites. Still good to hear these guys anytime they play.
Now in this smokey coffeehouse environment soundtracked by folk music, it's hard not to be reminded of my dad's stories of the 1960's cafe scene with all those legendary folk singers playing to tiny audiences in much the same surroundings. That's exactly what the Literary Greats brought to mind. When the duo busted out the harmonica, I instantly got flashes of a young Bob Dylan and their harmonies seemed directly inspired by Crosby, Stills, and Nash. Maybe it was just the atmosphere, but there was something extremely cool about their entire performance. The only thing missing was the coffee.
That atmosphere sadly faded for the last band of the bill, Doggebi. Throwing out the structured folk music of Listenlisten and the Literary Greats, Doggebi jumped straight into highly experimental improvisational music consisting of a distorted flute and percussion instruments. It was a little bit uncomfortably out there and it went on entirely too long. In fact, it was the longest set of the night. It's music I respect, but there's not much to latch onto. I went through a phase of listening to music like this, but I find myself needing hooks in my music these days. Admittedly though, Doggebi are good at what they do and for the group that's into this sort of thing, it was probably their favorite band all night.
The Secret Prostitutes were supposed to play, but canceled so the night ended a bit early and abruptly. Those KTRU Live CDs were on sale and I of course bought one which has already been proven to be rewarding in itself. As for the show, it was a bit slight but still fun, especially for that long lost folk vibe that fascinates me to this day.
It seems like just last week I was at Rice University, enjoying the KTRU Outdoor Show. Probably because it was just last week. One week later, KTRU held another event, not quite on the scale of the Outdoor Show but eventful all the same. On Friday night, KTRU threw a party at Avant Garden for the release of the second volume of their KTRU Live series, featuring live on-air performances from some of Houston's best local bands. Three of those bands turned out at the release party to play their songs from the album and more.
Not quite Listenlisten, but Ben (vocals and guitar) and Shane (horns and banjo) showed up to play some Listenlisten songs acoustically. It had a slightly more laid back feel to it, but since Listenlisten isn't an upbeat electric band to begin with, only having half the band just gave a different, not a better or worse, look at some of their songs. They covered some of their best material, but it was a very short set so it was missing a lot of favorites. Still good to hear these guys anytime they play.
Now in this smokey coffeehouse environment soundtracked by folk music, it's hard not to be reminded of my dad's stories of the 1960's cafe scene with all those legendary folk singers playing to tiny audiences in much the same surroundings. That's exactly what the Literary Greats brought to mind. When the duo busted out the harmonica, I instantly got flashes of a young Bob Dylan and their harmonies seemed directly inspired by Crosby, Stills, and Nash. Maybe it was just the atmosphere, but there was something extremely cool about their entire performance. The only thing missing was the coffee.
That atmosphere sadly faded for the last band of the bill, Doggebi. Throwing out the structured folk music of Listenlisten and the Literary Greats, Doggebi jumped straight into highly experimental improvisational music consisting of a distorted flute and percussion instruments. It was a little bit uncomfortably out there and it went on entirely too long. In fact, it was the longest set of the night. It's music I respect, but there's not much to latch onto. I went through a phase of listening to music like this, but I find myself needing hooks in my music these days. Admittedly though, Doggebi are good at what they do and for the group that's into this sort of thing, it was probably their favorite band all night.
The Secret Prostitutes were supposed to play, but canceled so the night ended a bit early and abruptly. Those KTRU Live CDs were on sale and I of course bought one which has already been proven to be rewarding in itself. As for the show, it was a bit slight but still fun, especially for that long lost folk vibe that fascinates me to this day.
Friday, August 20, 2010
Roky Erickson and Okkervil River - True Love Cast Out All Evil (2010)
True Love Cast Out All Evil is Roky Erickson's first album to get any significant attention in a number of years, primarily because of Erickson's return to touring and the album being a collaboration with indie folk superstars Okkervil River. Unfortunately, it suffers from a lack of thinking outside the box. Erickson is old and respected enough to simply write boring folk music and not to get any flack for it, least of all from his starry-eyed collaborators. Will Sheff is a master of this sort of thing and probably saw that this wasn't turning out to be anything particularly special, but he's also an ardent fan of Erickson and probably wouldn't say it even if he didn't like the music on the album.
Make no mistake, this is a Roky Erickson album, not an Okkervil River album with Erickson singing. Erickson dominates the show and the only touches of Okkervil River you can hear are in the playing. They're clearly the same band that made Black Sheep Boy and The Stage Names, but they're playing sidemen to Erickson and they never try to force any of their sound into it. Erickson isn't a bad songwriter mind you, so the many acoustic songs on this album really only suffer for a lack of much to say. Look at the title. "True Love Cast Out All Evil" is such a basic, pedestrian thought and that is where the songs suffer. Erickson doesn't have much of a statement to make. He's making music because it's fun and he knows nothing else. There's nothing inherently wrong about that, but it means the album is far from experimental, revelatory, or even a significant comeback album.
As these sorts of albums go lately, this album skews less towards the direction Gil Scott-Heron took with his acclaimed recent "old guy struggles through life and makes a comeback album" I'm New Here, which was highly experimental and intelligent, and more towards the direction of Daniel Johnston's comeback last year Is and Always Was. It's a statement of simply still being here, making music, rather than any sort of relevance as an artist. It's enjoyable on a few levels though and there are highlights of course.
The opener, "Devotional Number One", and closer, "God is Everywhere", which incidentally owe quite a bit to Johnston's early work, are fantastic and if the whole album had continued in the pained, lo-fi direction of those songs it would've been significantly more interesting. Instead, the rest of the album's songs are overproduced and thereby made generic. The other highlight is rocker "John Lawman" which actually sounds like the Thirteenth Floor Elevators.
Overall, it's worth listening to at least once, but it's nothing that will actually count towards the legacy of either Erickson or Okkervil River much in the long run. It's a feel good late career comeback album that is ultimately nice but fairly forgettable. (C+)
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
My Fondest Memories of KTRU Rice Radio
It was announced yesterday that Rice University is selling KTRU and it's going to become a news/classical station. This is horrifying news for serious music listeners in Houston. For your casual listeners, the other big stations might be fine. For people that just want to put on Sunny 99.1 at work and veg out while doing reports or something, it works for them. But for those of us that are into more eclectic music, local music, or just want to hear something different, there's only one radio station and that's KTRU. There's a petition to save it, but this seems to be a done deal. With KTRU gone, there will be no outlet in Houston for "weird" music and that's a sad, sad thing for a city with the music scene and the history that Houston has. So with the apparent passing of KTRU, I would like to share some of my fondest memories of it.
For me, it really has been the only station worth listening to for a long time. I remember years ago putting it on early in the morning. I'm not an early bird, so I was tired and in a bad mood. The first song that came on, which was just ending, was the Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds classic "The Mercy Seat," one of my favorite songs of all time. As it ended, I heard something revelatory. The opening drums and acoustic guitar strums of a strange vaguely 80's but still modern sounding pop song. A deep, sighing voice quickly came in, singing lyrics that resonated with me more than most songs ever had before. "Driving in your car, I never, never want to go home, because I haven't got one anymore..." coupled with the upbeat refrain of, "If a double decker bus crashes into us, to die by your side is such a heavenly way to die. And if a ten ton truck kills the both of us, to die by your side, well the pleasure, the privilege is mine." That song, of course, was "There is a Light That Never Goes Out" by the Smiths. I had somehow spent my life up to that point never having heard their music. It struck deep. Soon after, I was an obsessive Smiths and Morrissey fan, living and dying by that man's poetry. It was a life changing moment hearing that song for the first time.
Years later, I was going through a rough patch in my life. My dad was in the hospital very ill with a fifty-fifty chance of survival. He pulled through thankfully, but at the time we weren't sure. I was working sixty hours a week, trying to make money, not knowing what was going to happen in my life. I was driving to visit my dad and there was a song on playing on KTRU. It was bizarre, a sort of electronic, hip-hop, indie rock mish-mash, something I had never really heard anything like before. Afterwards, the DJ came on and said that it was a song by Ghost Mountain off their then-new album Siamese Sailboats. Despite being obviously upset at the time, there was something that hit me about that song. It was so happy and uplifting, strangely catchy and appealing. I loved it. In short order, I became a big fan of Ghost Mountain, then I wanted to see them perform. I made my first trek to Mango's on Westheimer, which would lead me down a path of gradually discovering Houston's amazing music scene and eventually writing for this very website, another life changing moment thanks to KTRU.
There were others, of course, other great bands I discovered, other great moments soundtracked by the station, but those are the two biggest that stand out in my mind. KTRU has been on in all sorts of strange, wonderful, depressing, exciting, and bizarre moments in my life. Its presence has been so greatly appreciated and yet taken for granted up until now. Now losing it is like losing an old friend. Apparently it will still broadcast online, but there's nothing else like it to play in the car which was where most of my listening took place, so it's a bit of a disappointing consolation prize. I only wish there was something that could be done to change the minds of those behind the sale, but it looks like this is the death of worthwhile radio in Houston.
For me, it really has been the only station worth listening to for a long time. I remember years ago putting it on early in the morning. I'm not an early bird, so I was tired and in a bad mood. The first song that came on, which was just ending, was the Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds classic "The Mercy Seat," one of my favorite songs of all time. As it ended, I heard something revelatory. The opening drums and acoustic guitar strums of a strange vaguely 80's but still modern sounding pop song. A deep, sighing voice quickly came in, singing lyrics that resonated with me more than most songs ever had before. "Driving in your car, I never, never want to go home, because I haven't got one anymore..." coupled with the upbeat refrain of, "If a double decker bus crashes into us, to die by your side is such a heavenly way to die. And if a ten ton truck kills the both of us, to die by your side, well the pleasure, the privilege is mine." That song, of course, was "There is a Light That Never Goes Out" by the Smiths. I had somehow spent my life up to that point never having heard their music. It struck deep. Soon after, I was an obsessive Smiths and Morrissey fan, living and dying by that man's poetry. It was a life changing moment hearing that song for the first time.
Years later, I was going through a rough patch in my life. My dad was in the hospital very ill with a fifty-fifty chance of survival. He pulled through thankfully, but at the time we weren't sure. I was working sixty hours a week, trying to make money, not knowing what was going to happen in my life. I was driving to visit my dad and there was a song on playing on KTRU. It was bizarre, a sort of electronic, hip-hop, indie rock mish-mash, something I had never really heard anything like before. Afterwards, the DJ came on and said that it was a song by Ghost Mountain off their then-new album Siamese Sailboats. Despite being obviously upset at the time, there was something that hit me about that song. It was so happy and uplifting, strangely catchy and appealing. I loved it. In short order, I became a big fan of Ghost Mountain, then I wanted to see them perform. I made my first trek to Mango's on Westheimer, which would lead me down a path of gradually discovering Houston's amazing music scene and eventually writing for this very website, another life changing moment thanks to KTRU.
There were others, of course, other great bands I discovered, other great moments soundtracked by the station, but those are the two biggest that stand out in my mind. KTRU has been on in all sorts of strange, wonderful, depressing, exciting, and bizarre moments in my life. Its presence has been so greatly appreciated and yet taken for granted up until now. Now losing it is like losing an old friend. Apparently it will still broadcast online, but there's nothing else like it to play in the car which was where most of my listening took place, so it's a bit of a disappointing consolation prize. I only wish there was something that could be done to change the minds of those behind the sale, but it looks like this is the death of worthwhile radio in Houston.
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
REPRINT SERIES: KTRU Outdoor Show (4/12/10)
[Ed. Note: Posting this one, without edits as always, in remembrance of KTRU, which today it was announced has been sold and will be gutted and turned into a goddamn news/classical station (isn't that what NPR is for?). Go to these websites for more about that.
http://savektru.org/
http://www.petitionspot.com/petitions/KTRU]
For nineteen years now, KTRU Rice radio has held their annual Outdoor Show, a free festival of bands, local and otherwise, food, and free St. Arnold's beer. Given that I will never be smart (or rich) enough to go to Rice University, the Outdoor Show is a perfect opportunity to lounge around campus and pretend like I'm a student while enjoying all of the aforementioned amenities. In other words, I can have my cake and eat it too.
This year it rained so things were running a bit off-schedule. The first band made it to the stage at around 2:00 PM starting a rapid fire succession with a semi-tangible theme running between each band.
The first one, the Homemade Band, led by Rachel Buchman, was apparently for the kids. Playing a sort of classic rock 'n' roll throwback style, Buchman herself reminded me of one of my elementary school teachers and led the children attendees in renditions of mind-numbing kiddie songs. If only there was something on the level of "Bananaphone," recent Apples in Stereo, or, hell, Yo Gabba Gabba, here. Instead, these songs drilled phrases like literally just "cockadoodledoo" over and over again. I'm not sure I would've liked this as a kid.
Next up was the grown up parallel of the Homemade Band I suppose, Office Party. They lived their name, jamming on stage with full suits on like they really just left the office. It reminded me of the old Drew Carey Show episodes where the guys (and Joe Walsh for some reason) formed a bar band after work. They do sound a little bit like that with their classic rock influences, but with a somewhat new wave twist and a singer whose vocal melodies reminded me of Gerard Way. Sound weird? Well there's always the wild card at these sorts of things and that was Office Party, closing out their set with a cover of the classic "Poker Face," yet somehow it was less charming than when Faith No More did it last year.
After that, Wasp and Pear reminded me why I usually don't listen to KTRU non-stop. Much as I love the station, I can't take the droning electronic bands. Wasp and Pear might appeal to some, but I just can't take this sort of thing. Their entire set was one long noise epic which I mostly couldn't handle.
Continuing the experimental tilt of Wasp and Pear, Space City Gamelan did something a little more to my liking. Like their name suggests, they're a gamelan band. But beyond that, they make some very interesting, forward looking music, combining the tradition of the gamelon with beats that I could honestly hear in an electronic/hip-hop song. It's something old that feels new which fascinates me on the level of a musician and as a listener it's just pleasing to the ear.
As if in combination of the electronic and prototypical beats of the last two bands, next up was one of my personal favorites, Ghost Mountain. I actually discovered them through KTRU and that pretty much started everything in my listening to Houston's local scene. A typically awesome show, they ran through songs from the Summer Tapes EP and their full length Siamese Sailboats. They also played a new song that gave some insight into what they've been working on lately. No idea when that will come out, but it seems they're forging a great path ahead.
Ghost Mountain's bizarre form of hip hop infused electronic music gave way to a more traditional form of hip hop when Fat Tony stormed the stage. He performed a short but firey set that for a moment turned a weird music festival into a straight up party.
Finally there was the headliner, Rafter. KTRU has gotten a great deal of criticism over their choice here, but hear me out. Rafter's blend of indie pop isn't anything revolutionary, but it is fun and they actually proved their worth, at least to me. Yes, it's mainstream and the sort of the thing you'd hear in a soundtrack along with the Shins and the Freelance Whales, but I personally have no qualms enjoying that for what it is. It's fluffy, but the choruses are undeniable.
For all the blogger clamor lately, you'd have thought this year's Outdoor Show would be a massive failure, but I say they still pulled it off. While I wasn't a fan of everything and I was initially disappointed there wasn't a more exciting headliner, there were still some great performances by local artists and Rafter, while not quite as great as some of the headliners, was still a solid band with the potential for a bright future. Basically if you didn't have fun at the Outdoor Show this year, you probably weren't doing it right.
http://savektru.org/
http://www.petitionspot.com/petitions/KTRU]
For nineteen years now, KTRU Rice radio has held their annual Outdoor Show, a free festival of bands, local and otherwise, food, and free St. Arnold's beer. Given that I will never be smart (or rich) enough to go to Rice University, the Outdoor Show is a perfect opportunity to lounge around campus and pretend like I'm a student while enjoying all of the aforementioned amenities. In other words, I can have my cake and eat it too.
This year it rained so things were running a bit off-schedule. The first band made it to the stage at around 2:00 PM starting a rapid fire succession with a semi-tangible theme running between each band.
The first one, the Homemade Band, led by Rachel Buchman, was apparently for the kids. Playing a sort of classic rock 'n' roll throwback style, Buchman herself reminded me of one of my elementary school teachers and led the children attendees in renditions of mind-numbing kiddie songs. If only there was something on the level of "Bananaphone," recent Apples in Stereo, or, hell, Yo Gabba Gabba, here. Instead, these songs drilled phrases like literally just "cockadoodledoo" over and over again. I'm not sure I would've liked this as a kid.
Next up was the grown up parallel of the Homemade Band I suppose, Office Party. They lived their name, jamming on stage with full suits on like they really just left the office. It reminded me of the old Drew Carey Show episodes where the guys (and Joe Walsh for some reason) formed a bar band after work. They do sound a little bit like that with their classic rock influences, but with a somewhat new wave twist and a singer whose vocal melodies reminded me of Gerard Way. Sound weird? Well there's always the wild card at these sorts of things and that was Office Party, closing out their set with a cover of the classic "Poker Face," yet somehow it was less charming than when Faith No More did it last year.
After that, Wasp and Pear reminded me why I usually don't listen to KTRU non-stop. Much as I love the station, I can't take the droning electronic bands. Wasp and Pear might appeal to some, but I just can't take this sort of thing. Their entire set was one long noise epic which I mostly couldn't handle.
Continuing the experimental tilt of Wasp and Pear, Space City Gamelan did something a little more to my liking. Like their name suggests, they're a gamelan band. But beyond that, they make some very interesting, forward looking music, combining the tradition of the gamelon with beats that I could honestly hear in an electronic/hip-hop song. It's something old that feels new which fascinates me on the level of a musician and as a listener it's just pleasing to the ear.
As if in combination of the electronic and prototypical beats of the last two bands, next up was one of my personal favorites, Ghost Mountain. I actually discovered them through KTRU and that pretty much started everything in my listening to Houston's local scene. A typically awesome show, they ran through songs from the Summer Tapes EP and their full length Siamese Sailboats. They also played a new song that gave some insight into what they've been working on lately. No idea when that will come out, but it seems they're forging a great path ahead.
Ghost Mountain's bizarre form of hip hop infused electronic music gave way to a more traditional form of hip hop when Fat Tony stormed the stage. He performed a short but firey set that for a moment turned a weird music festival into a straight up party.
Finally there was the headliner, Rafter. KTRU has gotten a great deal of criticism over their choice here, but hear me out. Rafter's blend of indie pop isn't anything revolutionary, but it is fun and they actually proved their worth, at least to me. Yes, it's mainstream and the sort of the thing you'd hear in a soundtrack along with the Shins and the Freelance Whales, but I personally have no qualms enjoying that for what it is. It's fluffy, but the choruses are undeniable.
For all the blogger clamor lately, you'd have thought this year's Outdoor Show would be a massive failure, but I say they still pulled it off. While I wasn't a fan of everything and I was initially disappointed there wasn't a more exciting headliner, there were still some great performances by local artists and Rafter, while not quite as great as some of the headliners, was still a solid band with the potential for a bright future. Basically if you didn't have fun at the Outdoor Show this year, you probably weren't doing it right.
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