14 posts tagged “live”
Random story of the day: I went to a rock bar in the Mission with Stuart and J.D. last night, and in between sets of Queens of the Stone Age and Sex Pistols that a dude picked from the digital jukebox, I chose Hall & Oates' "I Can't Go For That" and Stevie Wonder's "I Believe When I Fall In Love" as my tunes. And later, as I apparently didn't stick out as much as I thought, I then selected Interpol's "Obstacle 1" and Jay Z's "99 Problems."
I am tragic sometimes.
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Live - Datarock @ Mezzanine | SF
Here is my first beef with Norway's Datarock: dressing in frickin' red track suits means I think you're gonna delve into some grime or potentially a phat MC battle, not that you're gonna bust out an electro jam about girls with phantom penises or jump around on stage like a bunch of lunatics.
But, lucky for these blokes from across the pond,
they are adorable and talented to boot, and their ensemble eventually
won me over as my cynical ass stood in the crowd at Mezzanine Saturday
night for the Download afterparty. (more...)
Ah, the power of the 'bearded altbro'...do not underestimate this term, lovies.
I just want to point out right quick the irony from last Friday, from when I wrote, that I talked about seeing this man in concert but didn't think I would be able to since me and the ladies were going up to Echo Lake for the weekend. Well, where the hell do we pull off the freeway en route to Kimber but the Vallejo/Solano border where a Mickey Dee's was, and right as we pulled into the drive-thru I saw the lights of a ferris wheel from the Solano County Fair. Where I'm sure Mr. Sweat was running around in, with a hot dog and cotton candy. How incredibly tragic and mocking life was then.
(The weekend was full of amazingness and awesome, so all was not lost. But I was still bummed.)
I missed both husband's band on Wednesday and friend-of-a-friend's band Lazarus last night for the Mission Creek Festival, so I'm gonna try and make it up this weekend: Bloody Beetroots and maybe Joseph Arthur tonight, and then trying to hit Earlimart, Feist, or Gravy Train!!! tomorrow before ending the night at the Download afterparty for Datarock/Flosstradamus and then my friend Sean's superspecial warehouse party. Sunday I want to attend the Choose GOOD Block Party with my favorite Berkeley sunny indie kids the morning benders, but my mama is coming to hang out with me in the city, and she takes precendence. Duh.
Ratatatatatatatatat, I love you...can I have your bearded babies?
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Live - Ratatat @ Slim's | SF
Here is the thing about the music scene sometimes in San Francisco: it can be brutal getting into at-capacity shows. You could give away your prized Pucci moped, a burrito, and maybe a blowjob for free, and it still wouldn't have guaranteed admission into Ratatat's sold-out Slim's show last week. Six different people asked me for an extra ticket as we walked into the SOMA venue for some electroshredding, and all I have to say is this:
For all that is holy and right in the world, get
your Ratatat tickets now for the full September tour. It's gonna make
you change your pants, bang a stranger in the bathroom, and sweat until
it looks like you just emerged from a shower fully dressed. (more...)
One day I will see this band in person, all six, even if it fucking kills me and I have to take away Bobby's crack pipe. Or something.
I hung out with Miles at the station after the Tilly show on Tuesday, and we talked about how we could potentially see Keith Sweat on Friday at the Solano Country Fair (!!!! - no joke), but alas, I am going up with some friends to see the Kimber in Echo Lake and will not be back until Sunday. So tragic. I'm NEVER going to see him, ugh.
Anyway, the JET cover story is a pretty cool read and also lists all 21 of New Edition's singles: who can forget "Cool It Now" and "Can You Stand The Rain" and "Mr. Telephone Man?" I'm telling you, one day...greatness...
Tonight I am seeing a band who "look like a couple of bearded altbros from your local community who are decent dudes, and possibly have a long term girlfriend who they will not dump any time soon," aka "attractive bearded alt-men." More or less, I know Ratatat at Slim's is gonna own so hard - I've been listening to LP3 straight since I got it yesterday and I must say, the Indian influences on "Mumtaz Khan" are so fucking sublime I'm already on planning on showing up in my flats for maximal dance time.
I know I have been M.I.A. in the blogosphere, but there are some crazy things I'm going to soon and will be doing, so I am excited to share with everyone when I'm granted access. In the mean time, I'm going to continue to waste time on Hipster Runoff...best ever...
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Live - Tilly And The Wall, Loquat @ Great American Music Hall | SF
I love lots of things in life: small babies, free beer, hugs (sometimes all at the same time, it's true). I'm sort of a happy-go-lucky person that way; little things make me the utmost elated. Most people who meet me will discover this crazy dumb fun "I love everyone" attitude about me within the first ten minutes of initial encounter. It's internal programming that can't really be changed.
That being said, I thought Tilly and the Wall might be the band to encompass this joyous merriment part of my personality. I walked into the Great American Music Hall Tuesday night to shiny silver fabrics draped over the main stage balcony, and I spotted a disco ball stashed for later purposes. It also looked like everyone was dressed in sequins or had a headband on, so it seemed I was in store for a spectacle of some caliber. (more...)
I think I am just now recovering from the debauchery of this extravanganza...Vroo found out the real Lucha Libre wrestlers are gonna be in San Jose in July for a big arena show, but I don't know if there's gonna be Shamu and Chickens and little versions of both, and truth be told, that's kind of what I want...
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Live - Lucha VaVoom @ The Fillmore | SF
I read before going to the spectacle that is Lucha VaVoom that I was
going to be in store for masked wrestlers, burlesque dancing, and
little people. But nothing could have prepared me for the pure
derangement and entertainment value I was about to witness as I settled
into a front-row spot in the audience. Team Gay versus Team Mexico?
Girls with stigmata emblazoned with glitter on their palms? The Dirty
Sanchez and his balls? By the end of the night, I was still shaking
confetti out of my hair and wiping puke off my boots... (more...)
That shit is hard. There are so many things going against you: trying to get people to dance while they are interested in hitting the bottle; using someone else's iPod and records, and therefore someone else's music tastes; and, if you have no idea who your fellow party-goers are, it makes playing stuff like Twisted Sister, which you looooooove, either the best or worst idea ever.
Danielle and I went to an alter ego-themed party Saturday, and in between taking huge sips from our Slurpee and vodka jug, dancing to Notorious B.I.G. in the middle of a carpeted room, and pretending to be lesbian, we helmed control of the house iPod on loan, hooked up to the big DJ speakers. This was a party at her co-worker's abode, so I definitely was out of the loop in terms of being connected to people at the shindig, but that didn't stop me from playing some Hall & Oates...
"HOLY SHIT, I LOVE THIS SONG!!!!"
People literally poured in from all other areas of that house to groove in the living room. Initially, I didn't know if "I Can't Go For That" was going to generate any response; I really fucking love that song, but that doesn't mean people will dance. Danielle and I high-fived and continued to bust out the greatness, even playing "I Can't Go For That" a second time, much to the delight of our drunk crowd, and we jumped up and down. Secret weapon was discovered!
In cute news, yesterday I got to spend some quality time playing DVD 'The Price Is Right' with my family, including my dad, for Father's Day, and nothing beat seeing his face when he opened his card and found Journey tickets inside. I temporarily because the favorite child. September 27, greatness will be had!
Lastly, my BFD review went live earlier last week, and finally, my Wallpaper feature went live today...I will save WP for its own entry tomorrow, but know that I still laugh myself when I read it. That crazy Ricky Reed...
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Live - Live 105's BFD 2008 @ Shoreline Amphitheatre | SF
Admittedly, I had my reservations about the Live 105 event, which boasted to be "the summer's premiere music festival" on PSAs and promo around the Bay Area. I absolutely hate the large-stadium feel of the venue BFD was going to be in and prefer intimate ones, and the line-up seemed schizo, with artists ranging from Cypress Hill to MGMT to DJ AM, but hey - that's more or less my own record collection, so I was one to talk. Plus, given the insanity of last year's extravaganza, I was curious to know if the station could top even itself.
The BFD madness began the night before with a free pre-party at 330 Ritch hosting The Whigs, who have also been one of our On The Cover artists. A cool garage rock trio who sound like they borrowed The Vines' Craig Nichols, transplanted him into the Black Keys temporarily, and then renamed themselves while picking the axe simultaneously, The Whigs played hard and faithfully despite a thin turnout. "Right Hand On My Heart" is a example of the classic rock vehicle these guys can maneuver, but it's also tracks like "Sleep Sunshine," a beautiful slow tempo with drowsy lyrics and slider guitar that provides the band to branch out, and ultimately glow. I really look forward to seeing what else these Georgia boys can deliver.
After grabbing late-night donuts post-show and watching Designing Women at the shop with my friend Danielle, I passed out to wake up early the next morning and caravan down to Mountain View's Shoreline Amphitheatre with friends Kristin, Mario, and Mars' friend Jesse, all of us excited for different reasons: MSTRKRFT, Alkaline Trio, the local stage. We arrived right past The Whigs set time and promptly split up to explore, so I settled into Atreyu's set before realizing that even when I was 14, I didn't like this shit, but I appreciated the shredding they were doing on stage. I wandered a bit to soak up the adjustments to this year's festival in comparison to 2007's: there was no main stage area anymore, but rather a split stage set-up in the parking lot where when one band finished, the other could start up almost instantaneously. The new creation of the Subsonic tent, dedicated to electronic and dance music, was tucked neatly in the back and hosted both DJ and live acts. The main festival stage that faced seats and lawn areas was now turned into a meet-and-greet area.
After deciding against and then caving into $8 plastic bottled beer (you read that right), Kristin and I stopped in on San Francisco hot DJ Omar of popscene and Leisure fame, who got the crowd moving at 3:30 in anticipation of the acts scheduled later on. I then moseyed over to see MGMT, who I was definitely not prepared to take in. "Weekend Wars" sort of sounds like if David Bowie decided to reincarnate himself with a folk twist but couldn't let go of his synth roots, and then his music had a bunch of sex with the New York post-punk music. Topped off with these ridiculous outfits composed of one-pieces and straw hats, the Brooklyn band ripped through "Electric Feel," "Time To Pretend," and ended with "Kids," which found Oakland bad Hottub crashing the stage and having an orgy with the MGMT kids while the band tried to play. It was definitely one of the highlights of the day.
A short pretzel break later, and we were back in the Subsonic tent, after acquiring my friend Maria at the gates and Nick in the tent, and a margarita deemed 'the yard stick' at the booze tables. Lyrics Born thrust out a funk-inspired set full of speedy rhymes and a sassy back-up singer, and I got in the mood to dance as DJ Steve Aoki prepped his turntables. If you've ever peeked at Aoki's itinerary, this guy is all over the place, literally - one day in Japan, the next in L.A., the next at a private party. Maybe all the jetlag got to him, or the heat that day, but he reminded me of a 14 year-old who got left alone with his dad's record collection for two hours for the first time. He headbanged-danced like a cross between an angry three year-old and a slam dancer (thank you, Nick); he zipped right across the stage, left, right, and then up and down, touching every amp in between; he climbed up on the speakers and tousled his hair like he was out of his mind. Needless to say, I was more impressed he could still mix properly lest suffer from a brain hemorrhage. Plus, I knew he was doing something right when I spotted The Kooks' lead singer Luke Pritchard dancing on one of the speakers midway through!
Aoki picked up his stuff to let friend DJ AM helm the tables after him; I wrote in January about the sheer propensity the L.A.-based DJ had to innately know what the crowd wanted, and it seems like the guy is just like wine, it only gets better with age. Jay Z to Daft Punk, Weezer to The Presets, mid-90s dance anthems and current singles, AM knows what he's doing, and I decided if I ever had a half million dollars to blow, I will hire this guy to DJ my wedding. We squeezed amongst a throng of a now-packed tent to dance to his set, which didn't disappoint in any capacity. Breathless, we simmered down to watch Santogold as she took front and center after AM. Her two backup dancers, dressed to perfection in pressed white collared shirts and tailored black pants, provided the most entertainment. Prerecorded backing tracking backed Santogold, and from there the mediocrity hit plateau. I really wanted to like her, considering the hype surrounding her M.I.A. meets Gwen Stefani sound, but maybe the half hour set she was limited to didn't allow her true potential to follow, she just couldn't own the stage.
I ended up sitting with Maria talking about my love life outside of the tent for MSTRKRFT's set, but knowing I would see them at the Mezzanine after party later in the night justified my tales of woe taking precedence. It did amuse me that Usher's "Love In This Club" made an appearance during the duo's set, and ashamed me to realize that I knew the lyrics as well. I serenaded Maria with "I'll be like your medicine, you'll take every dose of me!" much to her bemusement.
After an In'N'Out stop, we trekked back to the City to catch Motor live at Mezzanine in San Francisco before MSTRKRFT took stage. The London pair has songs about not being human and gays in America and have a decidedly industrial feel to them I didn't anticipate, but appreciated. It seemed like the packed house at Mezzanine also appreciated them, because I was getting pushed left and right; as MSTRKRFT came on we decided to push our way through to the middle of the floor and dance like no tomorrow. Sadly, my comrades could not take the stuffy air around us four songs in, so we relocated to the back to watch. Hunger and fatigue began to settle in, and a quick drop in to indie club Leisure and a late-night diner ended my BFD experience. And while I can't say if this year tops last, I can say with certainty that sunscreen indeed never washes off.
By JENZ Jun 12, 2008 in NEWSHahaha - my editors thought the intro to my review today (below) was for their eyes only, and my response was "Oh shit, now it looks like I'm writing softcore porn for you guys now..."
In funny news, I hung out with my friend Ryan on Saturday night, and we watched "Harley Davidson and the Marlboro Man" (a piece of cinematic glory, for sure) - the opening credits play the below video's song and I almost choked on laughter:
So fucking sweet...
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Live - Jamie Lidell @ Bimbo's | SF
Jamie Lidell: who are you in your pressed gray suit with Rivers Cuomo
glasses, doing the hip boy soul bop dance routine and sassing out on
stage with that voice of yours? Seriously?
Lidell came at a good time for me. Last week, I found out a classmate of mine died; we were never close, but both being art majors, I would always see him in the labs at school, working on his gorgeous trademark large-format poster photographs. We were in a couple of art shows last year, and got supremely drunk at my house after a prestigious show at a fine arts museum we both exhibited at. The night of Lidell's show, friends and I popped in at a memorial ride for our fallen peer. A car at a notorious San Francisco intersection known for fatalities had hit him. After we paid our respects, we walked to a nearby dive bar to have chocolate martinis and beers to celebrate a guy we wish could be there to toast with us.
It's pretty safe to say I was distracted coming into Bimbo's Wednesday night for the show. With death so heavy on my mind for the past week, I had called everyone in my phone book to say how much I loved them, making sure everything was right with people I cared about because I didn't know when I was going to see them next. Standing on the ballroom floor of Bimbo's, it seemed so trivial to be at a show when someone I knew was now in the ground, and I never got to say goodbye.
Maybe that's why at last minute I decided to swing into the Lidell show; maybe I just needed to do things I don't usually do because I just can and should. It's the whole "life is short" adage, right? I generally never buy tickets to bands I know nothing about, or don't own albums of, or have not made previous intentions in my planner for. And I definitely don't invite two friends who rely on my word that a show is gonna be good to also come with, wishing on a thread that the outcome is going to promise fantastic. But hey! Life's a party, yeah?
It's exactly how I got lucky Wednesday. Lidell was in town to support Jim, a sanguine album full of sunny soul-inspired pops, spliced with a dash of modernism and wit, as well as big band throwbacks of classic 60s funk, swing, and downtempo grooves. The guy comes out on stage in an impeccable gray number compressed to perfection, flashing a grin to the audience before launching into a dance fit that included gigantic jolts of energy being balled up and throw into the audience as well as head-bashing sessions that almost caused his trademark specs to fly off his face. The backing band only fueled this playful sentiment: we had the trademark drummer in aviators and sweet sideburns; a guitarist with makeup reminiscent of this of Bjork; a sax guy armed with a partial vicoder who was adorned in a gold robe and (we speculated) no underwear; and the keys player, who was freakishly normal in comparison to the rest of the cast. Poor guy.
We were taken on a wave of the best-of best-of's merged with contemporary pop music for the hour and half Lidell graced the stage. A little Stevie, Otis, and Al Green made appearances, yes; the feature that makes him so endearing though is his earnest approach and precipitous adoration of the music he makes. Midway through, we're treated to an electronic jam session devoid of any audible lyrics, Lidell positioning himself behind a motherboard crowded with knobs and sliding keys. Later, we behold a deep croon session like "Game For Fools," appropriate for both a bedtime romp and a romantic temptation attempt, and pop splendor on pitch-perfect and soul "Another Day," part of me wondering if I stumbled into a Southern gospel Sunday. It's not a secret the Berlin-based musician knows how to belt it out, but it's in the way he projects and transforms his voice to adhere to the mood he is embarking on that makes the experience truly remarkable.
Please know this: it's not now that I associate Lidell's music with death, because of my life that happened pre-show; it's so much that the stunning celebration of life in general that Lidell's music encompasses is so bright and original, it's hard not to smile. It seems to swathe anyone with ears, and for that, I can't be any more happier.
Dear Kirk: I think you and Jamie would have gotten along quite well. Rest in peace and love, darling.
By JENZ
Jun 02, 2008 in
NEWS
Who knew electronica by some Aussies would cause a bitch fight? Touche...
I'm trying desperately to get tickets to see Beirut tonight, but I don't think it's gonna happen. I am a superjerk for waiting this long anyway. I also feel super bad that I have not been able to publicly love this band as much as I should/could have; I honestly think they are a beautiful slice of perfection, and lord knows I didn't shut up about The Flying Club Cup when it was in my player (it was my favorite album of 2007 - in front of Interpol and Radiohead, no less!). I did an interview with multi-instrumentalist Jason Polanski last October that never ran because it got buried under other articles I was doing, and I never did a review of their show that same month because I literally struggled for two weeks on how to write about something that was so special. Retarded, I know, but I honestly love 'em that much. Guys: I am sorry I am such a douchetard. If I end up making it in tonight, I promise I won't have writer's block and will shower you with words of adoration.
Jamie Lidell is also tonight; maybe the blackest-white-man will cheer me up instead...
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Live - The Presets @ Mezzanine | SF
Security guys were running inside to grab these
two screaming hos who were barefoot and holding their lucite heels,
with their strung-out hair flapping in the wind; one of them was
hollering "I just want to go home, fuck it! I JUST WANT TO GO HOME." I
waited patiently as security pulled out an alleged guy who hit one of
the hos to question him and get his side of the story (he denied any
involvement). I have to say I couldn't blame the guy - I don't support
violence, but these two bitches looked nuts.
I patted my favorite security guard on the knee on my way in to say
"Dude, I am sorry for this shit" before getting my dance on inside.
Here's the thing about The Presets - there are only two of them in the band. Two people, four hands, 20 fingers. It doesn't sound like a lot, but standing in the back of Mezzanine I swear to God there might as well been 19 of them on stage, all banging on a various instrument that made a pounding, monstrous, electrified blip of some sort. The amount of noise Julian Hamilton and Kim Moyes made was mammoth, completely enveloping me and the rest of the sold-out audience; I stood in the back by the coat check, I went to the bathroom, I traveled upstairs, and the sound still followed me like a good stalker. I was impressed.
The Australian duo was in town to show-off new record Apocalypso, a brilliant and sharp album full of bodyrock dance jams, industrial-influenced tunes, and solid electronic grooves. And show-off they did - a wave of insanity brushed over everyone's heads during "My People," a hard-hitting, deep anthem interposed with Hamilton's baritone licks, with an explosion of dance midway for the bridge. There was some mega-thrashing happening, and for a second I thought I was going to be hit in the face with someone's drink. This dance party was serious. More melodic tracks like "This Boy's In Love" make me fall in love myself on the spot - how is that possible? Anyone?
I have to hand it to Australia - you guys overcame the Brits being dicks by sending over ex-cons to your island by producing some of the best electronic music as of late. Keep on keepin' on: I think the Presets show was one of my top five of 2008 thus far.
(Oh - and when I was leaving the club, the two hos who claimed to be beaten down were still outside whining about they just wanted to go home, to seemingly no one. THEN GO HOME. Sheesh.)
The Presets North American Tour
05.29.08 - Minneapolis, MI (Triple Rock Club)
05.30.08 - Chicago, IL (The Abbey Pub)
05.31.08 - Toronto, ON (Lees Palace)
06.01.08 - Montreal, QC (Cabaret Music Hall)
06.02.08 - Boston, MA (Paradise)
06.04.08 - Brooklyn, NY (Music Hall of Williamsburg)
06.05.06 - New York, NY (Bowery Ballroom)
06.06.08 - Philadelphia, PA (Pure)
06.07.08 - Washington, D.C. (Rock N Roll Hotel)
By JENZ
May 28, 2008 in
NEWS
What a wonderfully weird and a weirdly wonderful show. I have more to say on this night, but it'll run for tomorrow's second half.
Also, in WTF news, I didn't know these two were married??
Hott. With two T's.
Linky for the show review here.
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Live - Destroyer @ The Independent | SF
Most material was centered off new full-length Trouble In Dreams,
a record we called a "surreal, poignant, and artfully-crafted album,"
and Wednesday night's show promised and delivered just that. Backed by
a supporting band, Bejar flipped between acoustics, straight rock, and
folk with the breeziness of ease. "Foam Hands" and "Introducing Angels"
were a quiet punch of love and angst rolled into a powerful ball, Bejar
standing still on stage with his eyes closed to nail the choruses for
both. "Shooting Rockets (From The Desk Of Night's Ape)" was a cinematic
glory if we had ever seen one; the overwrought and sharp guitar
overlaying the soft distortion and reverb gently in the distance was a
delight. Crowd and personal favorite "Plaza Trinidad" was punctuated by
sweet and tart piano with a jab of guitar intertwined, building for
mini-epics of crescendos and peaks. I so wanted to be sitting on the
venue floor listening to Destroyer on worn-in carpet and space pillows,
daydreaming off to my heart's content while being cooled with silk
fans, instead of standing in the balcony - but alas...
In between songs, Bejar talked about being Canadian, how particular meals sucked ("Man, fuck dinner" when he asked the audience if they'd eaten), and flashed awkward grins into the crowd of thanks and appreciation. Needless to say, we walked out of the show with smiles on our faces and happiness in our hearts. Thank you, Daniel.
Photos by JENZ.
By JENZ
May 27, 2008 in
NEWS
You know, contrary to popular belief, I am not a raging alcoholic. I was flipping through some of the clips I've done in the past few months and I realize I talk a lot about being drunk. I told Charlie this morning, "In my article [today], I admitted to being so wasted and stuffing a candle in my bra," to which I quickly added, "Not lit, thankfully."
Normal people don't do this. And I swear, on all accounts, I am actually fairly normal. Do I want it to be my "thing" to go to shows and get drunk and write about them? Who knows. I know people will contend their own opinion about me, my habits, and my lifestyle, but for the sake of education, here are some facts about me:
- I work a full-time, non-music related job during the week that requires me to function fairly highly. Most of these drunk stories happen during the weekend because I still hold some shred of responsibility to the clients I serve. Plus, I am actually still in school and like to do well in classes, too. And while I hope someday I will find a niche in the music industry to work in, right now I am indeed a working stiff and know that my job is the one that pays the bills - not these reviews (unless you're offering to...).
- I love music, and I love bars, and often music venues have said bars in them. And while I do very much enjoy beer and seeing live music, I know my limit. However, sometimes you just want to have the "Fuck it, I am getting hammered" mentality, and I don't think that's bad unless it's out of control. Drinking is an expensive habit.
- I don't have an average of how many times of which I go out to shows; sometimes it's once a week, sometimes it's none, sometimes it's four nights in a row of being out. But I also know I don't have to drink at every concert I'm at, especially if I have to go to work the next day - I work 8 AM Monday through Friday. And, actually, I have turned down a show because I felt like staying in - it's in the small minority, but I've done it. Sometimes I just want to sit in my underwear and play Guitar Hero (shocking, I know).
- The bottom line is this: I love going out, and it's a balance I am more than willing to try and master. And, suffice to say, alcohol fuels a lot of these stories because that's just what it does. Maybe my drinking level is higher than most, but hey - it's an entertaining read. Sometimes, the sober stories can't hold a candle to these booze-filled adventures.
I hold the candle in my bra. CANDLEINMYBRA!
Anyway, I don't really consider this as a defense moreso my reasoning. I think I am marginally funny in what I write, and that at the end you like reading about my drunken escapades, yeah? That whole living-vicariously-through-someone shit can be exhilirating...
That being said, here's today's booze story. Enjoy!
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Live - Does It Offend You, Yeah? + The Heavy | SF
The daytime found me switching apartments: after
schlepping my gigantic book and record collections up two flights of
stairs and eating some delicious Taco Bell fiesta potatoes, I was ready
to dance my tail off after moving for the majority of the day. I didn't
even shower and headed straight to Slim's to see Does It Offend You,
Yeah? after moving the last of my boxes.
Unfortunately for me, the band was in their last three songs. The sheer lunacy I was witnessing being behind a mosh pit and watching Morgan Quaintance screech out "With A Heavy Heart (I Regret To Inform You)" made me wish I had gotten up just an hour extra to begin moving: the throaty vocals and dirty bass line caused a huge raucous, while Horrors-inspired "Attack Of The 60 Ft. Lesbian Octopus" found everyone around me spazzing out. But it was closer "We Are Rockstars" I found myself in trouble: Quaintance pointed to a sign above the backstage door that said "No stage diving" and declared loudly "Fuck that sign!" before launching into "Rockstar." And while I admit the lyrics are a little on the simple side ("Where's your real friends now?/You have let them down/You're a download pal"), that yelp of a "Yeah!" at the end triggered the biggest explosion of dance in my pants I have not seen in a long time. Live, the band is even more smutty and seductive in their electronic arrangement, serving up hot jams on a knob-twiddling platter full of deep bass lines, sexy synth, and incredible rhythm. I'm pretty sure those 20 minutes were probably the best ones of my month.
After catching my breath, I ran home to take a proper shower; after all, I was due to be in the company of some Playboy bunnies. The magazine was sponsoring an event called Rock The Rabbit at Mezzanine, a new fusion partnership of music and boobs, as far as I could tell. When we stepped inside, I was assaulted by the bunny logo at every turn; candles, projection cutouts, postcards, T-shirts. Enlargements of past, various Playboy editions graced the walls, but to be honest, I was surprised not more nudity was around. I spotted two women in the iconic get-up of the corset and bunny ears, and wondered how much they had been hassled by the very drunk crowd to get them to "take it off."
But the spotlight was on U.K. outfit The Heavy, who was playing the event and who I am convinced are the soulful brothers of The Black Keys, complete with bluesy guitars, bass arrangements and a singer equipped with a voice to make the ladies do anything with him. It's a nervy band who aren't afraid to embrace funk and rock, soul and a tinge of R&B, for a bold statement in how to engage in some merrymaking and debauchery in the classiest way possible. Tracks like "That Kind Of Man" and "Coleen" find trumpets punctuating the dance party, announcing its presence in indie royalty, while "Girl" has this killer bass hook reminiscent to The Doors "Hello, I Love You." I started out with tapping my toes and slinking a drink back in my right hand, and by the end of The Heavy's set, I was double-fisting whiskey and ginger ales, had put my dancing shoes on, and was hugging and kissing everyone I knew in my general vicinity.
What the fuck, The Heavy? How did you get a hold on me?
Needless to say, we danced the rest of the night away, but not before I decided it was a fantastic idea to stuff some Playboy swag away for later. In my dress. I awoke the next morning with a candle in my bra and a headache in my skull to the highest extend. Fritos and bean dip cured my hangover before I faced the responsibility of Sunday, and before the memory of last night faded into epicness.
Does It Offend You, Yeah?
The Heavy
By JENZ
May 07, 2008 in
NEWS
I didn't include this in my review, but I gotta say - Sons & Daughters I think is the hottest band I have ever seen, no joke. All of them look like they stepped out of the pages of the Ford Modeling Agency ready to rock some linen ads, or something. It's really no fair how attractive they are. Plus, the bass player (first one on the left in the picture) was pregnant and still rocking the strings. Insane.
Original clippy here!
I'm getting back the proofs from a shoot I did last week - it's gonna be for a feature on this cool Oakland band who I think is gonna be following the Scissors For Lefty popularity train in feel-good, poptastic music. I'm really hoping four of the frames came out from the three rolls I shot. It's gonna be a big package tomorrow for the Trip, wish me luck that everything comes through!
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Live - Sons & Daughters @ Great American Music Hall | SF
Bethel is indeed an anomaly in her own right. At times her voice was
both harmonious and soulful, delivering a sweet croon over flawless
rhythms, served up by timekeeper drummer David Gow. Other times she was
channeling her inner banshee-meets-opera singer vocals, a perfect blend
of pitch and screaming, spirit and grit. And paired with the talents of
the rest of the band - Ailidh Lennon on slinky bass line duties and
Scott Patterson on ripped, dirty guitar and co-vocals - I was
completely taken aback as to why the show had not sold out.
"I'd just like to thank you for coming back out tonight," said Patterson halfway through their set at the Great American Music Hall. "We haven't been back to San Francisco in two years, we were afraid that people wouldn't come out at all."
Ah ha.
I think, though, with a little bit more exposure, more sold-out concerts will be in the band's future. As much as I want to contain the four-piece as my own little secret, I'd much rather spread the fast, furious, and oh-so-delicious love of these guys because I'm a giving person like that. I can't keep songs like "Darling" to myself, which showcased a pop element beat with a catchy guitar riff and Bethel's sweet singing backed up by a low croon interspliced from Patterson. And there is no way in hell I can keep tracks like "Rama Lama" and "Gift Complex" from anyone, the former finding Patterson more upfront and center with a baritone of a sex voice and Bethel sharply shrieking on perfect 1-2-3 over Lennon's Western-inspired bass. The latter ensnared Bethel in a tangle of fast rhymes and melodious hums to produce a beautiful and ridged combination. I was breathless at the end of the show just watching them play.
Indie, folk, rock, acoustic, country, soul, I don't care what label you give Sons and Daughters, so long as you give them a spin. Be prepared for greatness.
By JENZ
May 05, 2008 in
NEWS
