Nebula, Entrance Band, Kaura – Elbo Room 08/04/09

Whoa!

Too much shit is going on and all I want to do is rock!

After an epic weekend in Big Sur I just didn’t get enough of Entrance Band and this is their last stop in SF before the big new record drops. I ran into Paz (bass, a perfect circle, Zwan etc…) in a little gift store down on highway one and she informed me about this show with Nebula and, to my surprise, some old acquaintances Kaura. There’s a connection there, as there always is, but I’m not yet in the know.

I couldn’t get any delinquents to come along, which is a shame, but everyone in the city has got there thing and I guess there’s no time built into the schedule to witness near perfection. There’s that recording session, or that FIFA game, or that social network or whatever, but this is real. This is happening. It’ll affect you or it’ll influence you and it’ll surely leave a mark. But I get it. There’s a time for influence and a time to make it happen. One thing is certain: there’s not enough time for everything. But this is something I’m not willing to compromise on. Entrance at Elbo, are you kidding?

Kaura go first. This is a surprise. I know there’s a Paz connection in there somewhere. Is it the guitar player? He looks vaguely familial. Whatever, they fire right up and the wall of sound doesn’t let up until their penultimate song when the guitar player unleashes a magnum opus of arpeggiated LPness that would do Slash’s Sweet Child riff proud and it was the one highlight. It was rad. Totally. The rest of their set was not really my thing, to be quite honest. Typical songwriting conundrum where everyone is struggling to be heard and nothing is, and the fine vocals are the first to be washed away in a sea of sonic doom. It’s hard to make out a melody. It’s hard to get carried away by the emotion because there doesn’t seem to be one. The gear is perfect, the hair and the outfits, the concept with the “World” intstruments, the connections, the chops even, but something is sorely missing. Still, it’s pretty close. Nothing that a good producer couldn’t repair. This is exactly why live music is worthy. A bunch of kids with dreams and a lot of hard work. Maybe nothing comes out of it but fun and a lot of love, but that’s good enough. These are the times of your lives.

I went out for a smoke and came back up to an entirely different stage scene. All the overblown Marshall stacks gone. The huge drumkit gone. Paraphernalia, stripped away. In it’s place a simple kit, one Mesa Bass Cube and a Fender 2X12 of some kind. The stage looked naked but when Entrance hit the air was filled with lovely, earthshaking, coherently cacophonous, beautiful noise.

Paz’s bass tone was magic, round, powerful, magnetic and articulate. Guy’s Telecaster had that shimmery, extra delayed out glass and his vocals a tinge of slapback and those PA speakers at Elbo are pretty damn fantastic.

They started with “Crowded Train” which has a great bass riff and Paz shines right from the start. Her fingers dance, she gets into a trance, her recently washed locks hang in her face and she rocks as if she means it. You can tell when someone’s just going through the motions, when someones just trying to emulate a good practice on stage or when someone is really feeling it. Great musician’s are always feeling it because they love music. Sure, some nights are better than others. It’s a job. But there’s always a spark. If there’s not, you’re done. Put a fork in you.

Paz has it. Guy always has it. Derek looks like he’s just trying to keep up and he’s doing a fine job. His hair alone is worth the price of admission. And what about their outfits. Could they be any less rockstar? Kaura comes out with perfect rockstar attire and do a workmanlike job. Guy comes out with an old white t-shirt and white jeans and puts more rock into one hammer-on than a chorus of post Cobain posers and it’s what it is, and more because this kind of music transcends.

You might not be that into Guy’s caterwauling or his look or his style or his ethic or whatever, but you can’t deny their utter power. He’s a singer-song writer in every sense and you got to get into his thing. It’s there for all to see. Can’t wait until Sept. 1st when the album drops.

After the set I ran into Malcolm of Kaura back at the merch table and asked him about the connection with Entrance.

“Oh, she recorded with us on our first EP. She played violin on it. So this is great. It’s like a reunion. And then came A Perfect Circle and Zwan and now Entrance so it’s really great to see her back in her element again.”

“Cool, what do these guys, Nebula, sound like?”

“Total psychedelic stoner rock. They’re good. You should stay and check ‘em out.”

Thanks, I will. Nebula hit. Another power trio and I tried to justify the term “stoner rock”.  They weren’t exactly chilled out. They weren’t exactly splayed out on the couch playing video games. They weren’t inept and listless, but it was hard to tell if they had the munchies. I guess there’s a third way. You can move your fingers a little and turn the amps up and get them to do all the work, I guess that’s what stoner rock is. It’s loud enough. It’s got some requisite pomp. It’s accessible. It rocks, sort of. Maybe a really good laser show would put it over the top. I’m tired, time to hit the hot tub and fire one up and go to bed.

August 5, 2009 | Categories: Reviews | Leave A Comment »

Love for the Sake of Love – Sub/Mission

The following review demonstrates all the pitfalls of blogging straight out of one’s personal journal, but it is what it is…maybe I’ll be more discreet, next time.

“I was hanging out at Tartine, admiring all the pretty girls when I get a call from Fran who is

heading over to SubMission to set-up and so I wander over, say Hi to Chris and Kimi but the boys had already dropped off their stuff and I make my way to Beauty Bar and then Benders looking for them and I have a beer at Benders and watch the end of the Lakers game with the Magic, and they are good, and win in dramatic fashion thanks Kobe, and Fran calls me to tell me to grab the amp he’d left there downstairs and the guy behind the bar gives me a hard time and an attitude for leaving an amp here until I tell him I was just picking it up for my idiot friend and then he is really cool and just lets me grab it without any more stupid questions or remarks.

Watched the end of the game and ran the amp over to the place and helped them with their sound which was key, and they actually sounded good except there was nothing to be done about the crappy Yamaha monitor() but what the hell? Talked to Kimi and waited it out and I was getting texts from Emma and Christine and I had the word out to some my girls but it was monochromeblue Chistin who showed up, tasting like salt from the ocean, I think she really wanted me to taste her, which I did, and then we took a series of amazing pictures of the guys until she had to leave and didn’t even stay for their set because she’s such a morning person. Hmm.. It was nice to see her and she was really quite attractive and not nearly as whacked out as I remembered and she gave me a hard time for not being over my ex and how there was a third way, she said, just be patient with someone and it might happen naturally. Wow, I had to think about that and she knew she’d told me something really obvious but clearly not in my bailiwick and when she went she stood there and wanted me to kiss her and all I do is lick her neck again and say goodbye.

Francisco played, some drag queens did lip-sink, there was a really cool Sitar player that came out naked with her nipples on fire, Alexis with whom I talked later and she said she really wanted to get in touch with me about something so I gave her my card, and she had an amazing body which I could see all of and I really wish I’d taken more pictures because she was so cool it was damn near perfect and her little nymphs were funny riding around on in-line skates and capes as she played and she had an amazing attitude which came out later in some great photos.

Chris and Kimi played in their new joint, We are of Atlantis, and they rocked the 60s jams like Airplane and Janis. Kimi Recor, also of Lilofee, can belt it out, but I’ve heard her voice on more fragile material and prefer it. She’s got a lot of smoke and mirrors in those lungs and she should use ‘em.

Afterparty at Beauty Bar where Kimi played awesome 60 70s funk hits and it was a true blast. I took one of the best pictures I’ve ever taken, of Chris sitting at the bar looking badass. Francisco stole the girl I had my eye on, a tall brunette that stuck to him like fly on shit and that was that. He had no place to go because KT had one more night to go before she leaves for the Isle of Man. He was standing around looking forlorn and love (couch) starved.

I walked up Cumberland street and I was mad at the ex for not calling me or texting to confirm anything about today. I considered texting her a nasty thing about being nice, or something sarcastic, but when I saw her car parked in front of her house I couldn’t do anything but mope and pine and pick a red rose for the windshield wiper.

She thanked me for it first thing in the morning and she apologized for not calling. Fran said something really stupid too, but he apologized. It really goes a long way. We’re all dooshes, and it’s good to recognize that once in awhile, because we’re all awesome too…yet imperfect and working on it. Like these cool folks…”

June 9, 2009 | Categories: Reviews | Leave A Comment »

Club Shutter – Elbo Room 05/27/09

So I put some finishing touches on a new song, put on my super skinny new Levis and my black shirt and jacket

with a Jackscrew on the back and found him hanging around outside the Elbo Room scaring off a couple girls who’s names he got mixed up. He was really excited about his new record deal and was totally undaunted. The tall blond moved off in her stilettos and black eye makeup.

We moved over to some new girls, who were a little busy with their long cigarettes and some guys of their own and I just wanted a drink so I went inside and ordered a Laphroig . My other buddy, the drummer who also signed today got a Dark and Stormy and we sat at the bar and talked about recording techniques. Gothic characters surrounded us and looked bored and contemptible. They were having a neutral good time with nary a frown or a smile. Tears were painted on the pretty girl’s faces. Strains of Joy Division were wafting down the stairs from the club.

We exhausted the technical convo and went upstairs to a different scene all-together. It was difficult to see anything in that dark room full of darkly dressed living zombies. Seriously beautiful and disturbed people everywhere. They were slightly moving around to the music, in pairs, which seemed a little strange – and nice – and it made it a little easier not to bump into someone.

The music was all dark 80s Baritones like Joy Division, Sisters of Mercy and Bauhaus singing about death, as if they knew what they were talking about. The whole Factory Records catalogue is represented and more. There were a few striking blonds to change things up from all the black bangs and corsets. It seemed like a clique, like a strange high school inTransylvania.

I just stood there with my Scotch and listened to the great sound system and the great, dusty old tunes. It brought me back to my high school when KROQ in LA was still valiantly playing the edgy new stuff.

Here is what they say on their Myspace page, “A monthly social club for the dark and dark at heart that meets on the last Wednesday of the month. We like to drink and dance and we like to wear lots of black in a fashionable manner.” True dat.

I drunk dialled my ex and walked back up the lonely hill.

Pretty nice night if you handle the locals only kind of vibe, or if you can get past all the heartbreaking defenses and break into it.

Club Shutter turns 5 in late June. Look for an anniversary party.

May 28, 2009 | Categories: Reviews | Leave A Comment »

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Thee Oh Sees, Shannon & the Clams, Sonny & the Sunsets, The Mystery Lights – Amnesia 5/16/09

Thee Oh Sees, Shannon & the Clams, Sonny & the Sunsets, The Mystery Lights

The baby bird we found in Dolores park was fed and put to bed, I’d had a couple of Finlaggens (a very good buy in Islay single malt Scotch at Trader Joes), there wasn’t anything automatic to do any more with the gf gone, I still had a hangover from Monte Carlo night at City Hall the night before and I’d been hearing about Thee Oh Sees for a couple of weeks now. Anybody that I trusted was giving them the thumbs up and they were playing at Amnesia which is just down the street and an easy stumble home. The hill is a little daunting but it’s good exercise to start the process of burning it off.

I got dropped off in Theo the Geo, after honking at all the guys in the Castro and almost dying blazing down 18th ignoring all local traffic laws – I guess this is legal somewhere in the World – and walked by the place looking for a taco or two. Is that Patty Smith singing Gloria? Sure sounds like her, pretty impressive in fact, but it’s Gloria and I don’t think I can hear those six letters just one more time, plus I have a mean hunger and I need to soak up some of that Scotch, before I add some more.

There are no taquerias on Valencia between 18th and 20th. Take a note. Sounds like a good business plan, because I couldn’t see myself going into the bogus Burger Joint, I don’t care how hungry.

Fuggit. Maybe I just need a beer.

Out of cash, I snuck around the line and went straight to the ATM. Dude, I’m sorry. I go to enough of these shows and support a lot of local music. Some day I’ll be able to write it all off, but in the meantime getting a beer is more important that appeasing the doorman, and my guilt.

The Patty Smith band was still on, sans Patty, and one of the guitar players was taking over at the mic. I think they were the Mystery Lights, a very capable, high energy band of four, I think, all of which looked way too young to drink, or drive a car. They probably took the bus to get here and they were pretty awesome. They have a ways to go in the professionalism department, but they’ll get there and will surely impress. Most of the deficiencies, to be quite honest, come from the sound guys who almost invariably adds too much echo to the vocals. Guys, why add any? These tiny places have enough built in echo as it is.

And it turns out I was seated right next to an old friend at the bar. It’s nice to see old friends especially ones that are still so nice, and lovely and have every right to blow you off if they want because they’re there with their boyfriends. We talked about birds, and bands. Thee Oh Sees were her favorite. I told her about Entrance. Once, I accidentally flicked a cigarette butt at a pigeon right in front of her. Apparently, pigeons are her favorite bird because everyone else hates ‘em. She’s made whole art exhibitions based on pigeons. To her I was just another pigeon hater. I told her about Dolores. Not a pigeon, but a beautiful bird nonetheless. I actually love all birds, tiny dinosaurs, but not everybody knows that.

Ran into another friend, Conner, bass player from an old band of mine. He’s still in lots of different projects and he was talking to the bartender, who I had an eye on. I always have an eye on the bartender. What’s up with that? Is it something like mother’s milk? Ew, that’s kinda gross, sorry. We played in this band right here, The Ferocious Few, who are still together and starting to make some noise, but as a two piece because Francisco couldn’t handle all the noise and not having complete control. Typica Diva. Dammit if the music suffers.

Next up, Sonny and the Sunsets. I didn’t have to keep the toilet paper in my ears for these guys because they were relatively benign. Which is another way of saying that people were visibly bored after about fifteen minutes. The singer was workmanlike, but uninspired. What saved them, almost, were the brilliant guitar and bass tones. Some kind of acoustic blues guitar with a magnetic pickup (thank god, I hate those built in piezos) and the bass was something on the acoustic side of things too. Had a nice twang. Sometimes that’s enough. Add some more impressive vocals and you might have something there.

Shannon, of Shannon and the clams, was sick and she was afraid of puking on her apron. She still had the lungs, though, and the sixties crazy vibe, but again the fucked up echo on the vocals. Sometimes you only need to hear a word once. You don’t need to hear it echoed ten times, no matter how good it is. Add the guitarists echo and you have cacophony. Still, the last two songs were quite brilliant. I wish I had a notepad to jot down the names. Shannon’s got pipes. I’d like to hear her when she’s well.

I don’t have a huge anticipation of greatness when Thee Oh Sees take the stage, but it’s size-able enough and they’ll have to impress only slightly to get on my good side. It starts out fair enough, a bit more simply than I was prepared for, there wasn’t a bass, which I missed at first until the second guitar guy held down a lot of the low end because main guy, John Dwyer (?) was wrangling a highly played, highly timbered 12 string, but then the energy took over, driven in the main by the amazing drummer. Listen to that! It’s the drummer. Has anyone noticed that? It’s always someone. Sometimes the drummer is solid and workmanlike. Sometimes the Bass player just gets it done. Sometimes nobody steps it up. Thee Oh Sees all shine, but it’s the drummer, man, that kicks ‘em into gear. And he makes everyone else better. Dwyer gets into that infectious groove and runs with it. Everyone else runs with it too, including the entire front half of the room who are the biggest mosh scene I’ve ever seen at such an unlikely, almost folksy, event. It’s practically Apalachian, though there will be some dissent about that for sure, and everybody is dancing as if it’s a Black Flag concert, albeit a little more courteous. Good times. Good music. That’s what it’s all about.

I looked around after the short encore for my friends or for any new ones, but they’d all gone. The tall blonde I kept getting pushed into gave me a funny look, down her nose. The bartender ignored me. People were paring off and I was sheepishly alone, but feeling good. Music has the power to heal, is the apt cliche. I was pretty much healed.

I walked by her house just to compare it with last week and to measure the extent of that healing. I hoped she was having a good time wherever she was. I hoped she had at least as good a time as I had tonight. Still, the lights were off, I hoped that she was alone, and fast asleep. God only knows (God being a Pantheistic everything, not to be confused with any other God, thank you very much.)

P.S. There’s a great poem in the current New Yorker about love and everything and Spring and birds. Apt to music just as much as anything, btw. Cheers and good listening. Have a great spring.

May 16, 2009 | Categories: Reviews | 2 Comments »

Jonas Reinhardt, Bronze, Dzjenghis Khan, Magik Daggers – Amnesia 5/9/9

Magik Daggers were playing when I got there. There was a sequined-out singer that sounded a bit like Karen O, but there was no guitar so it was hard for me to comprehend.

That’s just the way I am. Guitar pierces through and soars in a way that keyboards can’t. Keys are often annoying. But I stuck toilet paper in my ears and they kind of grew on me.

Next up, the raucous power trio and aptly named, Dzjenghis Khan. They looked like troubled beer drinkers from the central valley, but they took a meticulously long time setting up and then they unfurled their hair and their buttrock powerchords and all the laptoppers headed for the exit, but these guys ruled. Cliche 70s style shredding guitar solos, shirtless head banging skull and crossbone belt buckled good times. And these three guys were on it! Made me almost forget I just lost my girlfriend and she was probably out with some other guy and laughing perversely. Almost. I downed a couple of Sudwerks, bobbed my head and got a look at the talent. There really wasn’t any.

Bronze was all set up in the back with their new 7″. There were two versions. The ten dollar clear vinyl and the $20 with the copper plate cover. It weighed a ton and was hand stamped with the word Bronze, even tho it was copper. I told them they should make the record out of bronze. Apparently other people had made the same suggestion because I got a rote response. Nice guys. Newbie record label types with a strange name. I kept lifting the record to see if it was real.

Bronze came next. There was some ambiguous visuals, some canned bass tracks, a guy in a suit singing something like Joy Division, and a dude in an avant garde getup and a gizmo with a knob.

It made a neat sound, but it was the same for every song. Reminded me a bit of Spectrum in that each song had this one sound. For Spectrum it was just a spacey phaser that cruised throughout. Dumb. This was a little more creative in that avant garde guy was actually playing it. They were pretty cool, though. I was in a really bad mood so it’s impossible to be fair. The fact that I don’t say they outright sucked is probably some sort of testament. Where the hell was my girlfriend?

Jonas Reinhardt finally set up all his keyboards.

There was a bunch of fog and wafting moody pad sounds and I headed for the door. I walked up my ex gfs street just to get a closer vibe. Her lights were on and I got it all out of my system. It took me about an hour to drag myself up the hill to my place on Twin Peaks. The streets were wet with the fog and tears of my nostalgia. But I went to bed and awoke with a renewed purpose. It’s time to meet some new people, see more bands, have good times, and maybe watch a little BSG on her couch. Why not?

May 12, 2009 | Categories: Reviews | Leave A Comment »

Spectrum, Entrance Band – Great American Music Hall – 05/07/09

Breaking up is a bitch.

You walk around in a foggy daze wondering where you’ve gone wrong in your life. It seems pointless. All the toil, all the tribulations, all the brackish detritus of wasted opportunites.

And then The Entrance Band plays and brings a wonderous tear to you eye…

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On the other hand, I’ve never been more bored watching Spectrum than the last time I was dead. I promised myself to stay for at least three songs but could only make it through 1 1/2. Not my thing. I saw yawns. I got in my white Hearse and went to Hemlock. Sorry guys, step it up.

May 8, 2009 | Categories: Reviews | Leave A Comment »

Headshear, Hotel Utah, 04/11/09

“What a Wonderful World” or “15 Steps, then a shear drop”? Sometimes it’s just a matter of inches. We’re all thrown up here on this World, like it or not, to fend for ourselves and are all subsequently struggling to figure out why and what for. Sometimes we think we’ve grasped the reason, in a rainbow or a flying bird or the light in someone’s eye, and the next day it’s all hell again. The wounded animal gets hungry or cornered and fears for it’s very life.

And then there’s good music that brings everything disparate together.

When you just can’t reconcile your beautiful humanity with the mechanistic qualities of mortal existence you need Headshear. That means you…grasshopper.

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Decide for yourself. Here’s the whole show captured in Binaural stereo.

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Like those middle year monochromatic King Crimson albums Discipline, Three of a Perfect Pair, and Beat, but without the vocals, Headshear dominate the barren prog landscape. Outstanding chops, ambitious composition and obvious dedication make this foursome something to behold. Their virtuosity is not often seen in a little club like this, but it’s magic when it happens. People tend to value mundane things like melody and witty lyrics from a cute lead singer. Headshear has none of that, so it’s not for everyone. But go see Heashear if you want to expand your head and get a broader perspective on the possibilities of music.

They play Thursday, May 7th (2009) at Kimos.

Go to Headshear on Myspace.

May 1, 2009 | Categories: Reviews | Leave A Comment »

Fleet Foxes, Fillmore, 04/14/09

Awesome!

I had an apple and considered getting a burger before the show, but I was recording this one and didn’t want to miss a thing.

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I’m more of a hard edged noise rock guitar solo kind of guy, but I know a good thing when I hear it and singer, Robin Pecknold, delivers. I’d listened to their album over and over and wondered where their vocal reverb chamber was coming from. It turns out to be inside Robin’s throat and augmented by the band’s perfect four part harmonies. I’m not usually a sucker for that kind of thing, thinking it’s mountain hippie blather, but it’s employed here for good, not evil.

It also doesn’t hurt that they have great songs, an impressively young looking guitar whiz for leads, an unabashedly and genuinely deferential stage presence, and that operatic vocal coherence that trumps everything. I don’t even know what he’s singing about. It doesn’t seem cliche. The four part harmonies take away somewhat from the ability to understand lyrics, but who cares? They’re brilliant!

Still, I wouldn’t mind a little more instrumental virtuosity. The kid had the skills. He looks bored most of the time. But when the tempo gets going and he’s able to rock out a little he’s in his element and has a good time. He should be able to do that more.

I was alone. My girlfriend works too much. The combination of these anthemic, elegiac tunes and the empty space by my side brought a tear to my eye. Nobody should miss such a thing for work. This is what life is all about. I wouldn’t have missed it for the World and I’m glad I didn’t.

But we all have our priorities and responsibilities. Mine is to life. And music. Nothing trumps it. It’s a universal language that goes deep.

Fleet Foxes goes deep.

April 15, 2009 | Categories: Reviews | Leave A Comment »

Monotonix, Triclops!, Lumerians Elbo Room, sat 03/28/09

I didn’t go.

I heard it was an awesome show. I decided to hang with my friends instead and go along with groupthink and that ended up in medicrocrity. The beginning of the evening was fun, watching a bunch of drunk girls dancing with each other at 500 Club. I tried to get the crew interested in this potentially amazing live show, a mere three blocks away, but they weren’t having it.

“I don’t like that loud shit”, was basically the response.

What did we do instead? drove all the way across town to Space Gallery to see a bunch of stupid laptop acts including a guy that used Atari sounds exclusively. With an MPC. Ooh! Aah! I’m so impressed. It was lame. Nice try.

So I thought we might be able to salvage the evening by hitting the Hemlock Tavern right next door. It’s usually a good venue, but sometimes on weekend nights they get these douchbags with label support that basically suck. This night it was the much written about Starfuckers. The only reason these people get written about is that they have publicity support. They’re lame. Trust me. This is not good music. They don’t have a good name. There’s nothing impressive or inspirational here. Maybe the local openers were good. Who knows. We got there too late.

Next time, I told my friend Matt, we’re doing it my way and going to Triclops! Now they’re on a European tour and won’t be back for awhile. And they’ll be jaded from that twatty Continent.

Long live American Rock N Roll!

March 31, 2009 | Categories: Reviews | Leave A Comment »

Schlong/Triclops!/Future Imperfect; El Rio, Mar. 14th

Triclops! I’m a fan of bands with Umlauts and/or Exclamation points and I’m a big fan of four piece rock bands that kick ass. I didn’t think I was such a big fan of extreme FX on vocals, but it works…

Like the Hemlock Tavern on Polk, only about half the miscreants at the El Rio are there for the music. The bar and the outside patio are sufficiently separated from the stage so that the beer swilling, conversation loving guitar-phobes can lubricate their own vocal cords and hear each other talking about the next big thing. In their efforts to see into the future, or wax nostalgically about the past, these people are missing out on the visceral present.

Of course you can hear Triclops! from the patio, indeed from miles away, and you can listen to their silly songs on Myspace, but you can’t truly experience them without being right up front and having them enter your earholes and eyeholes firsthand. It’s an undeniable maelstrom of jubilant intensity punctuated by flashes of blinding light emanating from the crowd surfing and vocally ambidextrous singer Johnny’s microphone and, in a new development, duct taped to the tops of his oft inverted kicks. I don’t know what he’s singing about (because I’m a guy and I generally don’t listen to vocals and anyway they’re heavily laden with pitch and formant shifting electronics for a ghastly pharmacopic effect, but with song names like “March of the half-babies” and “Iraqi Curator” I’m quite sure they’re brilliantly infantile. Johnny spends more time on the ground, spinning around on his head, or up in the air suspended on up-stretched hands than on the stage.

Christian on guitar, bassist Larry and drummer Phil take up enough stage space without him. Apparently, when local frontman extraordinaire Jello Biafra heard them for the first time he chased them down in a pink Cadillac Hearse and signed them right up on his rogue-ish Alternative Tentacles label.

These four don’t waste any time. They start right in on your lugubrious, Depression era senses and pick ‘em right up to the transcendent stratosphere where mind numbing self reflection or critique has no time to worm it’s way into your otherwise natural state of confident perfection.

As noise machines go this one is the Swiss watch of gear meshing harmony, confounding the boundaries between technical proficiency and unconscious spontaneity. Something like the mind bending efficiency of the perfect drug, but without the hangover.

Christian keeps up the overdriven riffage and the unyielding rhythm section locks into your skull with in-profligate intensity. Christian’s Orange head conked out just before the show, and there was a certain amount of foreplay like confusion, but nothing was lost with the makeshift Roland replacement. I’m sure Christian wasn’t too happy about the situation, but nobody else noticed. We were too busy getting pummeled.

March 22, 2009 | Categories: Reviews | Leave A Comment »

Al Di Meola, Yoshi’s SF, Feb. 8th.

Awesome! Four Stars.

Friday Night in San Francisco or Slendido Hotel. I wasn’t sure which style to expect. Turns out, we got both.

The food was good, but the place is a giant corporate monstrosity. The service seemed rushed and impersonal. We were herded from one place to another, like a Disneyland vacation.

We got very good seats though, in the second row, just ten feet from the stage which was littered with various acoustic and electric guitars and percussion instruments.

I ordered a Laghroig and she got a Sazerac.

Al came out, all in black and picked up the nylon stringed acoustic. He sat in front of a stack of sheet music and a single microphone. The sounds that came from his guitar varied from classical acoustic to fully electric with distortion and everything had a fusion feeling. One of his most used sounds used a layering of pads and a steel drum like attack. It sounded cool, but left me dry. the accordion player was fantastic. You could tell that Al had a special affinity for that instrument and a genuine appreciation for his talents.

They tore it up and everything was going just fine. He was just as amazing as I expected, but just after about the fifth song the room went completely dark and all the sound conked out. Some emergency lighting came on in a few seconds but it was clear the music was to be put on hold for a time. The musicians walked off the stage and there were a few announcements. they were working on it, and then it seemed the whole block was down, not just the club. I went to the bathroom and stretched and talked to our neighbors and everybody was perplexed. The club people looked genuinely worried and stressed.

And then something completely fabulous happened. Di Meola came out from behind the red curtain with his guitar in hand, followed by the rest of the band, and he announced, Well, we are going to play anyways. And this was followed by a huge round of applause.

They pulled all their chairs up to the front of the stage, all but the bass player who had been playing an unfortunate electric upright, and Al played just a few chords to see if we could hear. it was very quiet and it was not at all clear if it was going to work, but they were prepared to try and we all were prepared to remain quiet enough to hear.

The people in the front row offered the musician’s some nibbles off their plates and they passed around a beer another table offered up. It got laughs. There was still some ice in the room but it was breaking and melting.

Then they started to play and it broke my heart. You had to remain very quiet to hear everything but it was glorious. The accordion player barely pumped his bellows not to overpower the two quieter guitars on stage. He employed various improvisational techniques, like pumping the air through the bellows without any notes, kind of wash or a pad sound. He scraped the side of his instrument and wacked on it a few times for rhythm. The conga played banged on a wooden bongo. the drummer rattled some shakers and only once got up to vibrate a cymbal right at the end of a song for punctuation. It was a moment. Everyone was hanging on every note and every unrehearsed investigation.
When they got to Mediterranean Sundance the place became unglued. The accordion guy somehow traded lightning fast riffs and kept up with the melody. It was glorious and was greeted with a standing ovation. Al said at the end of it, I know Friday Night in San Francisco is a favorite around the World, but I will always remember this Sunday night in San Francisco.
Of course we gave him a standing ovation and he came out for two more, and made another short speech after that saying that San Francisco had always been very good to him, but this one will definitely go down in the books.

Transcendence.

March 7, 2009 | Categories: Reviews | Leave A Comment »