My semester finally ended, so I have a little over two weeks before I take two classes over the summer (one leading me overseas to London for five weeks, and I intend on having Rick Astley Rickroll me at least once while I’m there). As a result of temporary freedom, I finally have time to write new material that doesn’t regard lackluster coverage on environmental issues or corrupt journalists.
I have a lot of unfinished material that I’ve been keeping hold of until I had time to release it. Before finishing any of that, though, I went to a show on Wednesday. I’ve been looking forward to seeing Two Door Cinema Club since Brooklyn Vegan announced their gig at Bowert Ballroom on May 12th a few months ago. Their material from their debut release Tourist History has been on my iPod since I first stumbled upon them on Hypem, and their tunes have been my motivation to get my arse to the gym. But, I had a feeling I was going to be let down slightly.
Here was my main issue with their set. I understand that it was their very first tour, so their set wasn’t going to be a two-hour affair like the Patti Smith gig I went to at Bowery in December. The boys rocked out enthusiastically and were as lively as the Irish should be. However, like the problem that I had with The Killers when I saw them five years ago, TDCC had an extremely bland set list. Every song on the album was played, along with two other songs not on the record. 75% of the audience has heard of the “unknown” songs, Hands Off My Cash and Kids. There were no real surprises, and I’m a girl who really doesn’t like predictable shows. Hell, I even predicted the douchey frat boys being let loose from their Axe-smelling cages and wrecking havoc behind me (one of them, a Troll-ish character, kept smacking my straw hat and stroking my friend’s, a male’s, hair). Come on, I know you boys have covers of Poker Face and Phoenix’s Lasso. Couldn’t you have thrown that in for my sake? If I see them play at Webster Hall in the fall, I’m hoping at least one of those covers is included.
The fact that the uber-ginger lead singer, Alex Trimble, resembled an adult version of my cousin also made me feel slightly uncomfortable.
The Jonas Brothers don’t have the best reputation in the music business. Being known ore for their purity rings and excessive projects with Disney, the Brothers Three (Kevin, Joe and Nick) have not earned respect beyond the tweenage set. And even there it's complicated. If you’re thinking that the girls who have breakdowns at their concerts or at their meet and greets actually respect them for their “musical gifts,” you are mistaken. Together, the siblings write songs that are candy for the mind--the combination of cutesy lyrics, bubbly instrumentals and precious faces makes those of the prepubescent nature quickly addicted. When the sugar rush of the ears fades away, however, the Brothers will lose their appeal quickly and will have to find secondary careers. Just as so many boy bands before them.
Baby Jonas, Nick, is well ahead of his two older brothers in terms of landing a new gig. In between touring and filming the mediocrities that are Disney’s “JONAS” and “Camp Rock 2,” Baby Nick recruited a good chunk of Prince’s band in the 1990s, New Power Generation, and created Nick Jonas and the Administration. The end result of their debut album, Who I Am, is surprising. The under-aged star is not half-bad by his lonesome.
From the opening song, “Rose Garden,” through the rest of the 10-song album, Nick and his band take on a soulful sound that most 17-year-old artists do not have. He was quoted as saying that he wanted to model his side project after Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band, but his sound resembles a purer John Mayer with a slightly higher vocal range rather than The Boss.
There certainly are some rough patches here and there, which is expected from a still-evolving side project. Baby Jonas likes to throw around his falsetto, which can be controlled and smooth (see “State of Emergency”) or absolutely cringe-worthy (see “Tonight”). Baby Jonas also thinks that he can yell like Steven Tyler and succeed. So, it's too bad he falls flat on his ass with his attempt to do so in the opening of “Conspiracy Theory.”
However, what lacks in his vocal control is redeemed in his songwriting. “Olive & An Arrow” is one of the album’s more vulnerable songs, where lines such as “She’s got a heart of gold but/Every now and then/She’ll turn to gray” makes the listener really sympathize with Jonas’ apparent heartache. The tune itself reminds me of John Mayer’s “Come Back to Bed” in terms of sound, but I don’t necessarily mind that. “Stronger (Back on the Ground)” is meant to give a glimpse of how people can help the redemption process more so than anything else, and it doesn’t hurt that a random church choir comes in later on in the song to further punctuate the point. Finally, my personal favorite off the album is “Last Time Around,” which takes on a more southern rock feel. The song has a retro feel to it, the flow of the song is the smoothest off the record, and I don’t even mind the Steven Tyler yelp at the end of the song.
All in all, Nick Jonas’ first attempt at solo stardom turns out to be relatively OK. I imagined that this album was going to be being a huge train wreck, but instead it wound up being a minor car collision. Trust me, this is a good thing. If Baby Jonas continues on with this solo gig of his, I could imagine him being more famous for his singer-songwriter skills than his stint in the Jonas Brothers. Before that happens, though, the preteen girl fans have got to go.
The British bands we stumble upon, whether it be from radio or Last.fm, often sound eerily similar. Arctic Monkeys sound like a cleaner version of The Libertines; Coldplay is this generation’s U2; and Kaiser Chiefs, Razorlight and Kasabian all fall into the genre of post-pop. Combine all of these sounds together and they would probably create an extremely clean, harmonious sound. Even though the idea of this sounds great, it just proves that all of these bands don’t really stand out from one another. If the majority of bands from overseas don’t do so, are there any acts that break out of the mold? Fortunately, there is hope in a band called Bombay Bicycle Club.
The four former schoolmates from London (Jack Steadman as lead vocals, Jamie MacColl on guitar, Ed Nash on bass, and Suren De Saram on drums) have slowly been receiving recognition since releasing two successful EPs, and they now are ready to go global with their latest album, "I Had The Blues But I Shook Them Loose." Despite the band barely passing the legal drinking age in America, each song suggests a maturity that implies that they have learned a lot during their teachings, mainly in the area of social studies.
From the strong opening instrumental, “Emergency Contraception Blues,” and onwards, the band mostly succeeds in showcasing their strong lyrics and individual, passionate performances. Steadman’s quivery vocals give a deeper angst in each song that wouldn’t exist if the band had another singer. This is most true in “Autumn,” where his vocals match the somewhat painful lyrics about how difficult it is to be honest with those who need to hear the truth. His voice also is good when a songs calls for him to sound somewhat creepy, more specifically in “Dust On The Ground,” where he almost resembles a reincarnated Ian Curtis.
Steadman’s voice probably is the signature of the band, but the other players are just as talented. The slow, dramatic build-up of instrumentals in “Evening/Morning” resemble a slow-motion action scene that turns back into normal speed at the start of MacColl’s first instance of Muse-inspired guitar riffing. Nash’s terrific bass skills are highlighted in the summery-sounding “Always Like This,” while the Strokes-tinged “Magnet” has De Saram working in double-time to beautifully coordinate with MacColl and Nash’s synthesizing.
The one Achilles' heel the Club does have is performing mellower songs. The weakest song on the album, “Ghost,” is simply a bland song. The lyrics are slightly confusing, Steadman seems too timid and nervous, especially when uttering the f-bomb, and the guitar and drums aren’t that impressive. However, one mediocre song out of 12 isn’t so bad for a debut album.
As "I Had the Blues But I Shook them Loose" demonstrates, Bombay Bicycle Club won’t be going anywhere for a while. Currently chosen as one of the best albums of 2009 by Britain’s influential NME, perhaps this next year will let these four U.K. youngsters approach other ground, such as America. One thing is certain, though--the band will not be serving curry on my doorstop anytime soon.
I haven’t written a real entry in a long while. College and work and personal issues have bombarded me and left me with no real time to contemplate a lot. I’m finally writing again for two reasons:
I have finally been inspired. Took me long enough, Jeebus.
Many people have forced me to write again. I’m glad I have a bit of a fan base.
Usually I mention how I feel about shows. I know I’ve definitely been to a few great ones this year. I kid you not; the show I went to last night was absolute madness. It reminded me of why I started to love music in the first place, and why I secretly want to be a front [wo]man in a truly great band.
The main band in this truly triumphant night was The Airborne Toxic Event. Aside from having their one ‘major’ single/video “Sometime Around Midnight” looping on VH1 earlier this year, they’re not really widely known to the public. T.A.T.E. was highlighted in Rolling Stone in 2006 as one of the Top 25 bands on MySpace, and was one of the breakout acts at the CMJ Music Festival in 2006 and 2007. Nowadays they are known for being one of L.A.’s biggest rock acts, and their popularity is starting to become widespread. Their two shows at Webster Hall were sold out, so it’s obvious New York loves them. Luckily, my friend Chaz and I managed to get right up front and center, which will lead to many benefits during the night.
The first opening act, Red Cortez, instantly drew me into their work. Their overall sound reminds me strongly of an Americanized Razorlight with frontman Harley Prectel-Cortez having vocals resembling Arctic Monkeys’ Alex Turner. So, I guess they’re a better version of a lot of British rock bands. Their material is definitely worth checking out, but that wasn’t the most memorable part of their performance. At the end of their set, Harley takes off his All-Access pass and hands it to me, then does a writing gesture on his hand. I assume I was supposed to give him my number? I wouldn’t know. I didn’t have a pen on me, anyway. Flattering, though. I’m glad I’m lead singer material.
The Henry Clay People came on next, and they were just as great as Red Cortez. I knew I heard one of their songs around before, and I just realized this morning that one of their songs was featured on an episode of Gossip Girl. Go figure. They come on stage and they’re probably the nerdiest looking band I’ve seen in a while. However, the men can really rock out in their plaid. While their music was quality, they were really good due to the fact that they were just having a good time on stage. They also did a spectacular cover of Mott the Hoople’s “All The Young Dudes” with Red Cortez. Chaz called that someone would sing that song during the night, so I was amazed that that actually happened. Good taste, men, good taste.
Sometime around 9:15, The Airborne Toxic Event strutted on stage, and their confidence showed both in appearance and performance. The quintet, composed of vocalist Mikel Jollett, guitarist Steven Chen, bassist Noah Harmon, drummer with an impressive ‘stache Daren Taylor, and cutely dressed violinist/tambourinist Anna Bulbrook, had a set list that included all of their songs from their self-titled debut, along with some brand new untitled songs. As if I couldn’t love these guys more, it turned out that T.A.T.E. sounds a lot better live. Jollett’s vocals are extremely rich and unique, which some people may not like. Despite his youngish age (34), he is an old soul who seems to have been through a lot. Harmon’s bass skills are beyond skilled to the point where he could effortlessly play with a violin bow. As the sole female on stage all night, Bulbrook stood out with her ability to effortlessly play the violin while rocking out with the bad boys.
I didn’t think my night would get better than it was, but it did when Jollett sat a foot away from me to play acoustically. Literally, I was at the point where I could touch his guitar without moving my arm. He played two songs, an untitled new joint and “Wishing Well”, which was absolutely beautiful. The rest of their set list was done flawlessly, particularly my favorite song from them, “Papillon”. Their encore set was absolutely sick. They started with “Happiness Is Overrated” and ended with a long edition of “Missy”. However, sandwiched in between the two was a punk classic by the late Jim Carroll, “People Who Died”. Red Cortez and The Harry Clay People joined them on stage for this, and a riot ensued. Heineken and expensive Jameson was sprayed on band mates and into the crowd (I ended up smelling like cheap white trash when I got out of the venue and had to ride the subway back to my apartment) and Jollett jumped on the barricade right in front of me so he could get close to the audience. I’m happy to report that I did get to touch the sexiness that is he. Oh, also, the video is posted below, courtesy of Chaz.
Concerts like this don’t happen too often. Hell, quintessential New York nights like this don’t happen this often. I’m proud to say that I’ve had a true memorable musical night. I highly doubt that never again will I earn a backstage pass without trying or get drenched in expensive liquor for a long while. All that I know for sure is that this topped the night where I moshed with P. Diddy.
Sometimes I think to myself that, at the ripe age of twenty, I might be too old for intense concerts. In between Modey Lemon and the Arctic Monkeys sets, my surroundings at Highline Ballroom began to overwhelm me. I’m already accustomed to the amount of pushing and overcrowding within a rock crowd. For some reason, I couldn’t handle the teenagers last night. It’s a known fact that high schoolers are kind of annoying. The combination of someone’s lack of personal hygiene, another girl’s Rapunzel-like hair ending up in my mouth and the wave of those needing pictures of the roadies setting up the stage made me a bit enraged. I was oh-so close to losing it and moving towards the back of the venue. Just in the nick of time, Sean ‘Diddy’ Combs parted the crowd like the Red Sea.
Who would’ve thought that Diddy would redeem an entire concert for me? We’ll get to that part in a bit.
The opening band, Modey Lemon, set the mood for the Monkeys with their high-energy performance. Appearance wise, they were a bit mismatched. Singer/synthesizer Jason Kirker was wearing a sweater vest, while guitarist Paul Boyd resembled a 90’s grunger and drummer Paul Quattrone looked like he was soaked in blood. What lacked in their lack of coordinated outfits was forgotten with their strong garage-based set. They were naturals on stage, and they knew exactly where to position their fingers on their instruments with their eyes closed. While it wasn’t entirely necessary to have their final song become a 15-minute jam session, seeing how much effort they put into their craft is much appreciated.
Arctic Monkeys’ twenty-song set was full of instrumental highs and technical lows. They had some sound and guitar difficulties scattered throughout their 80-minute set. Lead man Alex Turner jokingly brushed off the troubles. Playing a good assortment of songs from past and present (their latest release, Humbug), surprisingly muscular Turner, guitarist Jamie Cook, bassist Nick O’Malley and drummer Matt Helders brought their ‘A’ game to the states. Crowd-pleasers such as ‘Brianstorm’ and ‘I Bet You Look Good on the Dancefloor’ made the floor shake, and lighters and cell-phone lights were brought out during slower tunes such as ‘My Propeller’. However, the rambunctious crowd reminded me of piglets running amuck in their pigpen. The crowd was a mess, and it made me a bit sick. I thought that they could possibly ruin this experience, the night I’ve been anticipating for at least a month, for me.
Cue to Diddy splitting the crowd with his sumo bodyguard with him. When he first appeared in the balcony with his posse, I expected him to stay put up there all night. However, I don’t know what provoked him to get into this crowd, but it was like he wanted to experience the music that night. He got in deep and plopped himself next to me. It didn’t hit me that I was touching arms with him until I looked over and literally saw his Proactiv-treated face right next to me. I had to embrace the moment. I moshed with him until I lost him during ‘Potion Approaching’.
With people lining up in front of the venue since the morning (luckily, the kids who got to Highline at 5 AM managed to score some last minute tickets), this show was the concert of the summer for some. While both Arctic Monkeys and Modey Lemon had extraordinary sets, the crowd was on the verge of ruining my experience. I can thank Mr. Combs for redeeming my night and making it an experience I’ll never forget.
There are two components in the music world that have begun to become very stale to me lately; post-rock and Brooklyn-based bands. While both have gained notice and some credibility, they also have become worn and weary to my ears. While post-rock bands such as The Album Leaf and Talk Talk now sound all the same, the majority of Brooklyn bands such as Dirty Projectors and The Antlers have been overplayed and over hyped all over the internet and within the five boroughs. However, there is hope for both genres, thanks to Stellastarr*. The band performed a great set at Highline Ballroom on July 16th, and proved that there are still bands in these specific genres that deserve the hype.
Opening for the quarter were The Postmarks and Wild Light, and the results were hit-and-slightly-mediocre. The Postmarks have been hyped as one of the acts to follow in 2009 by many credible sources such as Spin, Pitchfork, and Stereogum, and have even been featured in an episode in the popular Nick Jr. show, Yo Gabba Gabba! It comes as no surprise that this threesome didn’t disappoint. Performing an eight-song set, the band managed to get the small-but-growing hyped for the acts to follow using a combination of popish keyboards and strong, powerful guitars. As for the talented vocalist Tim Yehezkely, my friend summarized her sound as a “female Ian Curtis”.
While I personally enjoyed Wild Light for shallow reasons (their tight jeans were sexy! and oh, look at that guitarist’s sleeve tattoos!), their music was atypical pop rock. The band was clearly talented, seeing how three of the four switched off with playing the guitar, bass, and keyboards during their thirty-minute set. However, this did not redeem them from how much every song sounded the same, in terms of instrumentals and lyrics. This set taught me a lesson that sometimes hotness does not always equal quality work.
Stellastarr* recordings’ don’t do them justice. Their music comes alive from the moment the first guitar string is strummed. Consisting of vocalist Shawn Christensen, guitarist Michael Jurin, bassist Amanda Tannen, and drummer Arthur Kremer, the band outdid my wildest expectations of how I imagined them being live. The band performed a majority of their latest album, Civilized, and a handful of their greatest hits, including My Coco and closing with my personal favorite, Jenny, where Christensen also managed to belt the final verses while sprawled on the floor. Jurin was also on floor for a few songs, and it seemed it was practically second nature. Their actions seemed like they would get the crowd rowdy and excited, but the nature of the crowd seemed more relaxed that amped. There were the hardcore fans that belted every verse of every song and danced their arses off, but a good majority of the crowd stood there, bobbing their heads with beer in hand. I imagined the crowd being a little more rowdy, since this was their hometown show. Still, I’m glad I didn’t have to uppercut a touchy-feely drunkard.
Hometown shows are usually supposed to make nights to remember, where nothing could go wrong. Or…things go wrong, and fans are too overwhelmed to notice. In terms of this Stellastarr* show, I walked out impacted, and yet a bit disappointed. I blame Wild Lights’ tight pants and the crowd’s stubborn attitude towards dancing for this slighty ajar feeling in my heart. Stella didn’t disappoint, though. Instead, they rekindled and reignited my heart for them, and I desire more material stat.
It’s typically a fulfilling experience to go to a concert with artists you barely know. Not only do you get to test the waters of hearing near complete unknowns, but also you get an insight into what your friends are listening to these days. One of my best friends desperately wanted to go see Brooklynite singer-songwriter Chris Garneau for the longest time. Finally giving her the opportunity to go, I experience some strangeness that night.
The show, on July 9th at Greenwich Village venue Le Poisson Rouge, ended up being an indie-filled night, full of eccentric instruments, personalities, and musical selections. Opening acts Scary Mansion and The Lisps were radically different from most acts I’ve previously seen, but both were on opposite ends in regards to quality.
I had an inkling that Scary Mansion was going to be trouble after moniker Leah Hayes appeared on stage at 8, although every source reported that the show would start at 7. The set already started at a low peak, and things began to fall from there. Hayes walked on stage with a beer in her hand, which explained the delay. When she opened her mouth, she sounded like a indier spawn of Feist, but her voice and thunderstick doesn’t mix well with the alternative-tinged bass and drums. Also, the poor backup vocals seemed useless as her voice was usurped by the instrumentals. Hayes tried to interact with the bassist, but it looked like he wasn’t having any of it. Hayes looked like she was going to eventually stumble over herself and fall off stage, seeing how she was wobbling to an extreme. The crowd wasn’t thrilled during the set, and seemed relieved when the band finally ended.
Luckily, things changed for the better when The Lisps quickly came on stage about 15 minutes after the Scary Mansion set. Consisting of vocalist Sammy Tunis, guitarist and vocalist Cesar Alvarez, bassist Jeremy Hoevenaar, and drummer/object hitter Eric Farber, their set was like an indie old-time variety show. Their show was a bloody good time. Their songs and lyrics were varied and witty, their anecdotes were cute, and some of their instruments were quirky, ranging from tambourines to recycled film reels to melodicas to a huge wrecked tin box. The Lisps were a breath of fresh air that I haven’t really encountered in a while. They managed to win a new fan within 45 minutes.
Chris Garneau soon walked on stage, and I was shocked. The man was incredibly tiny and wore very tight pants. It was kind of cute. He came up and taped a keyboard to the already-grand piano already plopped on stage. In addition to the key-piano hybrid, cellos and an accordion sprinkled the stage. The various instruments reminded me of the Andrew Bird set-up when I saw him at Hiro Ballroom, but they also guaranteed an eclectic show. When Garneau opened his mouth, his voice was unlike anything that I’ve heard prior. I could call him a male Bjork, but he was more distinct than that. His voice has such rawness and emotion pouring with every word he sings that he cannot be compared with any other artist at the moment. The combination of his vocals and instrumentals made for a beautiful performance of his latest. In fact, the live performance proves that the material off El Radio is quite strong.
While the majority of the show was good, it's a shame to think that Chris Garneau and The Lisps don’t have as many fans as they should. The problem that I see with the music industry is that people aren’t willing to open their arms to new, truly different material. Unless if either or conform their genres to sound like music that is popular, both bands aren’t going to be able to reach a wider audience. While this is so, perhaps it’s not so bad that they remain with these intimate venues.
I have to admit, I’m not particularly a fan of reunion tours. Either the band in question is reuniting to obtain some of the fame and glimmer that they have once felt, or they want to cash in because their royalty payments are dwindling. In addition to both of these usual traits, the group often isn’t as strong as they used to be. With this in mind, I watched in horror as No Doubt took the stage on American Idol on May 6, 2009 and butchered one of their greatest hits, “Just a Girl”. While the band was relatively on par, lead songstress Gwen Stefani trebled the hell throughout the approximate four-minute song length and focused more on doing push ups and screaming to the fangirls who only know her for her mediocre solo work.
Despite the time I spent cringing about this performance, I decided to spend a quarter of a paycheck to see her at Nikon Jones Beach, along with opening acts Paramore and Janelle Monae.
Opening acts typically don't stand out for me, and this time was no exception. Jones Beach never had the best acoustics, particularly because the amphitheatre is outside. Perhaps they could be to blame for my distaste towards the first opener, Janelle Monae. Monae, introduced as Diddy’s newest protégé, was very out there. She was like a combination of a black Lady Gaga and Kanye West on 808’s and Heartbreaks. It seemed like she only performed three songs, one being a Michael Jackson tribute. It was confusing to see what sort of music she was aiming to make. She was futuristic, yet soulful. She was manically energetic, yet smooth. Along with dropping her mic stand about five times, her set was messy and left me confused.
I know Paramore more for the lead singer’s, Hayley Williams’s, bold hairstyles and personal dating life more than their music, but their music reminds me of the music that I listened to when I was thirteen. However, I outgrew the majority of my old taste and I just found Paramore annoying. Their fangirls are much more annoying, however. It felt like a third of the crowd solely paid to see Paramore’s 50-minute set, then went home after their mini-show was done.Their music was forgettable, and I felt like turning emo when they performed that Twilight song. Strangely enough, it sounded like Williams’ voice began to give in near the end of the set. She better rest up her vocals or she’ll wear herself out within a few years.
Luckily, the concert majorly redeemed itself when No Doubt went on stage at 9:33. Along with two touring members, the band showed us loyal fans why we loved them in the first place. Touring solely for inspiration for their new album, Stefani and Company performed their greatest and most beloved hits. Along with that, each member often got to illustrate his or her immense talents throughout the show, specifically drummer Adrian Young and touring members Stephen Bradley and Gabrial McNair. Of course, Stefani is the quintessential leader, both showing off her impressive vocals and interacting with the audience to the point where she brought up a lucky audience member and hugged him. The quality that I appreciate most about No Doubt is the fact that everyone in the band seems like good friends. While they started in 1986, they interact the same as they did back then. They have a goofy, playful aura to their personalities, and it reflects in their vast catalog.
I often go to concerts and shows for the main act, and I try to block out any bad acts, should they be bad. I have already gotten the bad taste of Paramore out of my mouth, and I’ll probably give Monae a second listen. Solely focusing on No Doubt’s show, it was one of the better performances I have seen within the past year.
When actors become ambitious and try to make it big in the music world, the majority of them become mockeries at the end of the day. The two main men who immediately come to mind are Eddie Murphy and Bruce Willis. Despite their immense amount of fame in the 80’s, they couldn’t bring that same legion of fans to the record stores. Most actors can’t because they’re not made to be musical artists. Then again, actors such as Murphy and Willis probably made the leap because their egos told them to do so. So, how would a critically acclaimed actor such as Jeff Daniels fare with his latest bluegrass show?
For those who don’t know Jeff Daniels by name, a brief biography would be best. Known for his breakout role in 1994’s “Dumb and Dumber”, he has been in a string of critical hits (“Pleasantville”, “The Squid and the Whale”, “The Hours”, “Good Night and Good Luck”), duds (“My Favorite Martian”, “Mama’s Boy”), and relatively lame kiddie flicks (“RV”, “101 Dalmatians”, “Fly Away Home”, “Because of Winn Dixie”). He showed off his singing chops in some of these movies, but not many knew of his second career as a twangy musician.
One wouldn’t expect bluegrass as decent background music for a classy place like City Winery, filled with wine bottles, kegs, and an abundance of cheese. Come to think of it, the setting does seem appropriate for a Midwestern good time. Surrounded by male tourists with long ponytails and families who traveled to Manhattan to see Jeff Daniels, my date and myself were served platters of exotic cheeses and salamis as Daniels awkwardly walked on stage with his guitar and fedora.
From the first word uttered by Daniels to the first strum of his guitar, I was pleasantly surprised as to how good of a showman he was. He began his first song with requesting that the audience get pictures out of the way, which led to him making silly faces for the crowds’ many flashes. Each song came with personal commentary, varying from how bad of a driver her daughter is to how he lost his wife at a gas station while driving a recreational vehicle cross country. His songs were relatable and poignant, doused with hints of sentiment and humor. His strongest song, “The Dirty Harry Blues”, stemmed from a ‘deadly’ encounter he had with the legendary Clint Eastwood during his stint in “Blood Work”. Any artist who sings about getting brutally killed by Dirty Harry should automatically be considered a badass.
For my first bluegrass show, it was certainly a unique night, despite me not really knowing whether this was a legitimate bluegrass concert. In terms of actors-turned-singers, Jeff Daniels ranks higher than most. However, he knows that he shouldn’t give up his day job to do permanent touring. Perhaps this is the best route to lead, since he might lose his anecdotal charm should he ever follow through with such.
There are certain acts that are clearly out of my musical league. As an avid lover of the embarrassing Guilty Pleasure, I appreciate lyrics that are even too cheesy for Hannah Montana fans to bear and instrumentals that are sub-par and oh-so catchy. While I do happen to listen to critically panned on an hourly basis, I also appreciate the unsung heroes of the music industry. You know the type: a person or group that isn’t afraid to express themselves wholeheartedly and tests the boundaries with their daring attempts at entering harmonious infamy. This is where Gregg Alexander enters the picture.
After two failed attempts at solo stardom earlier in the 1990s, Alexander decided in late 1998 that his luck might change with the creation of New Radicals, comprised of himself, vocalist Danielle Brisebois, and a string of other unaccredited band members. The first track released off Maybe You’ve Been Brainwashed, Too, “You Get What You Give” is mainly known to casual listeners as The Song That Enraged Marilyn Manson More Than It Should Have. Aside from that, “You Get What You Give” is an exceptional example of how a first single should sound. The first twenty-five seconds opens with a futuristic feel (due to the taint of synthesizer here and there) and a countdown from Alexander that throws the listener ten years into the future. The song holds a message of straying away from conforming to the ugliness of society, but is ironically hidden behind the joyful keyboarding and upbeat tempo.
The remaining eleven songs are just as innovative as “You Get What You Give”, but receive little-to-no credit for their brilliance. While the album eventually went platinum, most people only know the leading single and “Someday We’ll Know” and “Mother We Just Can’t Get Enough”, known most memorably for being on the Walk to Remember soundtrack. While both songs are supposed to resemble the ecstasy one is supposed to feel while being in a relationship, they are also the weakest links on a track list that is otherwise innovative and ingenious. A personal favorite, “Flowers” tells of a better love story, where the protagonist is trying to convince his love that their love is “as real as the flowers [she] smoke[s] to get high”. The Beatles-esque guitar strumming and simple piano composition brings the tune together and makes listeners imagine themselves in the same dreamy scenario almost resembling a very pleasant acid trip. Another song, “I Hope I Didn’t Just Give Away the Ending” is particularly haunting due to the internal conflict going on in Alexander’s head for the first two minutes, breaking free by telling himself to “SHUT UP!” and goes into a tale contaminated by cocaine addiction and desperate pleas to get away from living such a life involving making pornographic films to pay for drugs. Truly a terrible story, but it is executed perfectly and will probably be stuck in your head after a first listen. The album’s concluding ballad, “Crying Like a Church on Monday” is a perfect way to end this album of self-discovery and self-loathing. “Monday” is a hopeful plea to try to make life worth living.
Unfortunately, “Maybe You’ve Been Brainwashed, Too” was the only album created for New Radicals. A few days after attempting to release “Someday We’ll Know” as a second single, Gregg Alexander decided to disband the musical experiment, insisting that he didn’t want to live a life of touring and interviews anymore. Alexander may be a big-time producer for the likes of Santana and The Bangles now, but New Radicals’ single album should remain a model for budding bands that hope on making a significant impact on the music industry.
Ever since I picked up one of The Roots’ earlier albums, “Things Fall Apart,” in eleventh grade, I was determined to catch them perform live at least once in my life. The way the group (consisting of lead MC Black Thought, drummer ?uestlove, guitarist Captain Kirk Douglas, bassist Owen Biddle, keyboardist Kamal Gray and percussionist F. Knuckles) has managed to combine hip-hop with other forms of music, such as jazz, soul and rock, in their long careers is truly unique and unlike anything else in the hip-hop world today. After many failed attempts within the past four years to see them, I became a little hopeful when I heard they were hired to be the house band for Late Night with Jimmy Fallon. I imagined that The Roots would perform semi-regularly around the city during this new stint. Luckily, a few weeks after they announced their long-term TV gig, they also announced that they would be hosting a three-month, late night residency at Highline Ballroom for only ten dollars a ticket. How could I not take advantage of this opportunity?
When first walking into the Ballroom, The Roots’ personal DJ, DJ Birdbrain, is spinning old school hip-hop tunes with hints of new school technology. The music immediately put the bass speakers to work, and it got the diverse crowd dancing in no time. I managed to get up to the front of the stage, noticing behind me all sorts of people. Frat boys were to my left, overdressed party girls to my right, and hipsters, bohemians, hip-hop heads and bookworms were right behind me. Noticing that such a vast array of people could come together to experience one band was surreal, since it’s rare to see all these people in the same room. The lingering smell of overpriced booze and marijuana snuck into the venue were signs that a good show was coming my way.
The Roots casually strutted on stage at about 11 p.m. They looked ecstatic and grateful about the crowded venue, and lead MC Black Thought immediately thanked everybody for coming out and “partying” with them. The six-piece band began playing, and the crowd was taken on a trip.
The show, entitled The Jam, had two main purposes: to exhibit the talents of the band’s instrumentals, and showcase the band’s many friends. One of the special aspects of The Roots is that they refuse to sample other artists’ songs, so they have the additional challenge of being wholly creative. However, the band managed to show their true talents, playing such musical genres as neo-soul, funk, pure rock, smooth jazz, and the blues during their set. Their jam sessions would last for a good ten minutes, then would be connected to a new song by a simple guitar riff or drum solo. Within these jam sessions would be solos of epic proportions, as they highlighted the immense talents of Douglas, Biddle and ?uestlove. Douglas, in particular, set the stage on fire with his one-handed guitar solos and soulful showmanship, modeling such guitar legends as Jimi Hendrix and Muddy Waters.
Along with The Roots, their posse of friends and colleagues put on a great show, which made the event into a family affair. While most of the artists who performed with The Roots are fairly unknown, their musical contributions made the concert more like a family get-together than just an ordinary concert. Up-and-coming rapper Wale made friends with the audience as he passed around his camcorder to record audience reactions to his songs, while fellow rapper Truck North reminded me of a younger Biggie Smalls as he free-styled for about five minutes, a feat that is difficult for almost any rapper. Funk metal singer and guitarist Corey Glover brought down the house with his raw, soulful voice and emotion seeping out of his guitar. Legendary jazz singer Dee Dee Bridgewater also strutted out with a ferociousness that showed that an old timer like she could entertain a younger audience. Along with all of these singers and rappers was a Brooklyn-based African band Antibalas, who, with their saxophones and bongos, added an eclectic international flare to an already diverse show.
By the end of the night, The Roots and Company had played for two hours. Although the show ended at one in the morning, I could barely feel the passage of time because I was dancing the whole time. The Roots definitely know how to throw a great party, along with performing a great show. Should one dish out their money for this residency? Absolutely. Anyone with an open-minded appreciation to music shouldn’t, and have no real excuse to miss this residency. I know I’ll be taking advantage of this distinctive opportunity; I already bought my set of tickets for next month.
The Roots Present The Jam will be presented on April 1, 6, 14, 21, May 5, 13, 18, 26, June 2, 10, 16, and 23 at Highline Ballroom on West 16th Street between Ninth and Tenth Avenue. Tickets are ten dollars in advance and twelve dollars at the door. A limited number of tickets are sold the day of the show. Doors typically open at 11 PM, unless otherwise noted. Guest artists vary from show to show.
Kanye West is back in the industry spotlight a little more than a year after he released his critically praised album, Graduation. On November 25th, his new album, 808s and Heartbreaks, is being released nationwide. Finishing his saga of ‘college-based’ albums, West is ready to grow up and focus on different aspects of his soul. However, West probably was not expecting to grow up so quickly. Within the past year, West broke up with his long-term girlfriend, been arrested for assault, and, most tragically, lost his mother. Judging by the handful of track leaks within the past few weeks, West has clearly been affected.
Kanye’s first single, Love Lockdown, has set the tone for what appears to be more serious times for the artist. Probably being influenced by the end of his relationship, Kanye puts his heart on his sleeve for the first time in a single. Personal lyrics such as, “I know I said ‘I'm through’, but I've got love for you/But I'm not loving you the way I wanted to,” and “I'm in love with you, but the vibe is wrong/And that haunted me all the way home” show that Kanye West is in an extremely vulnerable position with his love, and he cannot control the inevitable. However, he tries to hide this fact by hiding his voice behind an auto-tuner and blaring taiko drums during the chorus. Still, it is apparent that Kanye became a changed man during this time of distress.
The rest of the recent song leaks prove that Kanye West has been hurt in more ways than one could imagine. In his supposed second single, Heartless, West is going in-depth into what could have gone wrong in his relationship. Declaring that she could be so ‘Dr. Evil’ and that they will remain enemies from this day forward, he also proves that he is livid about how he and his lover ended up in the long run. A similar statement is shown in Gold-Digger-esque Robocop, where he compares her to ‘the girl in Misery’ and turning his life ‘to Stephen King’s’.
Finally, the saddest song out of the bunch would be Coldest Winter. Having a close relationship with his mother up until her death, this is clearly the biggest heartbreak out of everything that he has been through within the past year. West has lost a huge influence on his life, and he doesn’t know how to cope without her. Stating how “Its 4 AM and I can’t sleep/Her love is all that I see”, the death is haunting him more than anything else. He has lost a part of him, and he is not sure when he’ll get out of this depression mainly brought about by her death.
Although all of the current leaks show a depressing time for the artist, Kanye West is expected to not disappoint. Kanye will continue to innovate and blow fans’ minds with his lyrical masterpieces. Although, if one should not exponentially appreciate Kanye’s vulnerability and distress, he has already promised to release another album in 2009.
