Elvis Costello w/ Larkin Poe at The Broward Center for the Performing Arts: March 18, 2015

This originally appeared on ppcorn.com (FKA FDRMX) 5 years ago. It's probably my favorite concert review I've ever written and hands down the best last paragraph. This is still one of the best shows I've ever seen and where I became not just a huge Elvis fan, but a huge Larkin Poe fan.

As I’ve gotten older, I’ve usually found I actually have less in common musically with people my age. For the most part, as people age, their taste in music narrows, and in many ways just freezes completely, stuck in whatever period they can nostalgically hold on to as being better than “kids today.” That’s not to say I don’t like old and straight up retro music, because I obviously do, but I don’t just like that, and I don’t dismiss anything new outright.

Still, for years I’ve heard my contemporaries talk about seeing people like Paul McCartney live and how he shames young musicians by playing marathon length shows and demonstrating a complete mastery of his art. I’ve never had the chance to see McCartney live, but I’ve had a small taste of that seeing Dylan a couple of times. But that was just a small taste. Last night, I really came to understand what total mastery of the artform is when I saw Elvis Costello play, mostly by himself, for approximately two and a half hours at Ft. Lauderdale’s Broward Center for the Performing Arts.

Before I get to Costello, though, we have to talk about Larkin Poe. I’d seen them on the YouTube series Jam in the Van not too long ago and liked what I heard, so I was familiar with them already. Last night, however, it was just the two Lovell sisters, minus bass and drums, which is fine because these two sisters from Atlanta know their shit. Roots music, whether blues, gospel, country, bluegrass, folk, or whatever depends on a certain authenticity to be sure, but it also depends on a knowledge of its history that I don’t think more modern genres necessarily do. That knowledge has to be organic in order to really come across. I know nothing of their upbringing, but judging from their performance last night, I would not be surprised if they learned to play mandolin and lap steel on a wooden porch by watching their elders. There’s just something loose and natural about their style which came accross from the first song they played, “Wade in the Water” and in every original song they played as well, including a stripped down and more gothic version of “Jailbreak” off their first full length album, Kin.

Of course, as much as I was already loving Larkin Poe, they took me over the top with the last song of their opening set. “You’ll have to decide if this is a Cher song or a Nancy Sinatra song,” announced Rebecca Lovell, eliciting an immediate “Oh shit” of excited recognition from me that I’m sure everyone around me must have noticed as I stumbled for my cell phone. What followed was a completely fresh take on one of my favorite songs of all time, the often covered “Bang Bang (My Baby Shot Me Down).”

During the intermission, I met the ladies at the merch table where they signed their album for me and I mentioned that to me it was a Nancy song because her version was better than Cher’s original, but I should have added that the version I’d just heard was up there with Nancy’s because they brought something completely new to the table by making this story of a love gone as bad as possible into a true southern gothic tale and really all their own while not losing the original’s vision. There’s just a certain fire that they brought to out that came through with the lap steel.

Before the show and during intermission, on the stage was a giant TV playing Elvis Costello videos. So when Elvis just matter of factly walked on stage with little warning, he approached the mic and said “well, you’ve heard all the hits, so I guess you can just go home now” and then unceremoniously started playing “(The Angels Wanna Wear My) Red Shoes.” Right off what stood out in this solo performance was that there was no pretension about it. He was just going to play and that’s that. Also, he was going to be heard, and everyone there understood that.

I’ve always liked Elvis in a more distant way. I’ve never really dug deep into his catalog because, as he pointed out at one point last night, at this point there are over 500 songs. That’s intimidating to get into if you’re exploring. The good news is, as of last night, it’s clear to me that his mastery of the craft goes well beyond the songs I was already familiar with. I finally really understand what the big deal is.

How often have you been to a show where a performer tries to do something a little quieter than normal only to be drowned out by talking or inappropriate cheering (or worse, heckling) followed by angry shushing from the rest of the crowd? Sometimes the performer will practically have to plead with people to just shut up for one damn second because this could be special damn it!

I experienced the complete opposite of this several times during this show. The first one hit me in the face with it’s power. At the end of “Accidents Will Happen” he stepped back from the mic, played more quietly on the acoustic guitar and sang with no amplification for a few verses. And you could hear every bit of it. There was never a moment of transition to being quiet. It just happened and everyone just understood because he wasn’t asking. He was just doing it and he is Elvis so you’re going to listen, is the feeling I got. There was something very powerful about the way this happened and it happened several more times throughout the night.

For most of the show, Elvis Costello played one guitar or another, acoustic or electric and I was wowed by how underrated he is as a guitar player. He’s not just playing chords for the sake of rhythm, it’s much more complex than that. But his first journey over to the piano resulted in the most clear indication of two other things about Elvis: his songwriting and the overwhelming beauty of his voice. He really is a complete songwriter in the sense that every note, every pause, every flourish is there to support a lyric or an idea.

This is when he played “Shipbuilding,” a song I was familiar with, but never loved or even liked that much, to be honest. But, hearing it this way, just piano and vocals, stripped down, highlighted the complexity and emotion of the song and the performance showcased the power, range, control and genuine feeling that Elvis radiates with every note he sings. His vibrato particularly is amazing to hear live. He’s been accused of oversinging and I’m sure that’s true in a lot of his recorded work, but last night, there was nothing over about it. It was right on and I’m still impressed.

So, there were three encores. The first one was with Larkin Poe and felt like a good ole fashioned hootenanny with the lap steel, mandolin and harmonies. This set ended with the mandatory and uplifting “(What’s So Funny ‘Bout) Peace, Love and Understanding,” a song he didn’t write but did make famous. Like most people I was sure this was it, but suddenly, Elvis just appeared inside that giant TV and started playing again. At several points throughout the night people yelled out requests. I kept hearing calls for “I Want You,” which I would have loved to hear in a stripped down version like this, but that wasn’t to be.

The other most requested song was “Allison” and this is when it came. What hit me at this point, is that as much I had wanted to to hear this song, and as great as the song is, I can understand why he might have skipped it and it would have been ok. There just wasn’t much more to do with the song in the way that he did with some of the others he played earlier in the night. It was a good performance and I’m glad he played it, but I understand now why the first time someone had yelled it out the response was a sarcastic “I love a man with an imagination.”

The second encore ended with a song that I think perfectly distills everything that happened that night, “Radio Soul,” which is an early version of his hit “Radio, Radio.” In this early version, it’s a love song to radio, but it can more broadly be said to be about music and the lines “but everybody else is overwhelmed by indifference and the promise of an early bed but for myself I don’t work too much least not since I’ve been told I could sail away to the songs that play upon that radio soul,” could have closed the night. But, of course, they didn’t. There was one more encore, which started with Elvis on piano doing a somewhat creepy take on the standard “Side by Side,” before he called Larkin Poe back out for two more songs.

All around me everyone was impressed with how much music we had just heard. All told, Elvis played 32 songs for about 2 and a half hours. It’s the longest I’ve ever seen anyone play. The theater had senior citizens who volunteer as ushers and as I was walking out I overheard one of them saying to another “I kept thinking it was over but every time he just picked up that god damned guitar again.” So, in summary, at 61 years old, playing mostly acoustic songs by himself on stage, many of them ballads, some country and at least one standard, Elvis Costello is still pissing off old people. Punk’s not dead.

Rage, Rapture and Transcendence: Blondie, Garbage and Deap Vally in Orlando

This past Wednesday, August 9th at the Hard Rock Live in Orlando, my wife and I went to the Rage and Rapture show, featuring Blondie, Garbage and Deap Vally. It was somewhere near the end of Blondie’s set, during “Dreaming” that my brain sort of returned to me enough to interpret what I’d been feeling during the whole show that night. Here I was, seeing this band I grew up listening to but had never seen. This band that represents a whole scene in rock history that I hold in the highest regard and while they are older and far removed from CBGB’s in the 70s, what they delivered this night was still relevant, vital and filled with heart. It made me think of the concert experience, of music, of art, of life in general. It was transcendent.

On New Year's Eve, 1991, I went to my first concert, ever: Guns n Roses at Joe Robbie Stadium. On August 8th, 2017, I drove through hellish traffic to see the impossibly reunited (mostly) Guns N Roses at Marlins Park in Miami, arriving three songs into their set, but appropriately, just in time for “Welcome to the Jungle.” It was hot and muggy, with the smell of weed and cotton candy in the air. The circus atmosphere of the venue made sense. I outgrew GnR many years ago. I find Axl’s voice grating. But my wife never saw them and wanted to go so I support. And while I didn’t much care for the show, it was great to see her rocking out to the hits.

Sound at stadiums is shit, there’s no way around that. But I will say the band did sound like they were on point otherwise, at least technically. Even Axl, who’s voice can’t quite reach those annoying notes, so he comes off a bit more subdued. But still, there was a point where I realized Slash had played every single note in existence and while I was impressed with his technical ability, I was also bored with his choices (or lack thereof). Every song seemed to go on much longer than it needed to with solos and vamps that became interchangeable. To me it felt like they were just living up to the expectation of delivering the 30 song set list in an almost mechanical way, dressing it up in “Rock n Roll excess.” It was more about “look at us, all old but still rocking” than having any real passion for the music. Interestingly enough, the best song of the night was “Attitude” a Misfits cover, sung by Duff McKagan, which appeared on The Spaghetti Incident and was played short, sweet and aggressive, as it should be.

When it was all said and done, this show came across exactly like the cash grab that it was and nothing more. This is a group of guys that mostly put aside how much they hate each other because the money was too much to turn down. Maybe it’s the size of the venue and maybe people in the front row got a different vibe, but this was spectacle and not much else. So it was a stark, refreshing, contrast to see the Rage and Rapture tour the following night in a much more appropriate and intimate venue.

I was excited for all three bands that night, but if I’m being honest, I was most excited for Deap Vally. This is one of my favourite bands of the past few years, who put out my favorite album of 2016, Femejism, and aside from an in-store at Radio-Active Records, I had yet to catch them live. I was not disappointed in the least, even though their set was short. Opening up with “End of the World” from their first album, Sistrionix, they instantly got the (fellow) olds in the audience to pay attention. Just before they went on I had heard several people in the audience saying “oh, there’s some other band” with shades of disappointment. But they couldn’t deny the power of Lindsey Troy and Julie Edwards as they ripped through their set. At one point, I heard myself loudly “woohooing” when Lindsey introduced “Smile More,” and I’m sure I drew some looks near me. Soon, they all understood though. I was particularly blown away by Ms. Edwards’ skill on the drums as she beat out complex, hard and funky rhythms with apparent ease. After their set, they went out to the merch table to say hi and sign stuff so I ran out there. I’m sure I came off like a total fanboy, but you know what, good. They deserve ardent fans of all ages and genders and I am not ashamed of my excitement.

On the way back to the floor, holding my second copy of Femejism (now signed), the lights dimmed and Garbage exploded into their new song “No Horses,” an excellent apocalyptic song that is perfect for our times. I was stuck halfway to my wife who was still standing about 2 people back from the stage, as Shirley Manson and the boys destroyed us all. Back in the late 90s when Garbage first came out, I was pretty heavily into them, but I had never seen them live until this night and they blew me away. Shirley Manson’s stage presence is a beautiful ballet of performance and laid back honesty that I’m not sure I’ve ever seen in anyone else. When she sings “this is the apocalypse” you believe her. At one point she dedicated “Special” to a fan from Orlando they had come to know, who passed away, and her voice cracked a little. She talked about how much their fans means to them and it was clearly sincere and heartfelt. These candid moments would then lead to her performing a song with all of her essence like it was a theater piece, sometimes throwing hands over her head in ecstasy, sometimes down on her knees in pain, or dragging the mic stand around in a gloomy march and even, for part of “Only Happy When it Rains” standing perfectly still, hair in face, like a true goth queen as the world exploded around her.

I was happily surprised that they played “The World Is Not Enough,” their contribution to the history of great James Bond themes. The annihilation Garbage unleashed on us peaked with a devastating “Push It” that had everyone dancing and jumping. Throughout the night I kept trying to figure out how they were incorporating some of their more electronic beats and sounds, because it was seamless. Of course, Butch Vig was playing what seemed to be a fully electronic drum set, but none of it felt anything but organic. The sound at the Hard Rock Live is among the best I’ve ever heard. It’s loud and clear and just what a band made up of studio geeks needs.

The crowd seemed to be there mostly because of Garbage based on the energy level. Although, I doubt anyone could have resisted what the band was doing even if they weren’t there for them. By the time they got to the closer, “Vow” everyone was amped up and ready for more from Blondie. It’s probably the best handoff from one band to another I’ve ever seen. And here I have to shout out the roadies that spent next to no time resetting the stage between sets. Within maybe 10 or 15 minutes, they were done and we were back in business, not losing any momentum.

The screens filled with static and a loud buzzing was playing as Blondie opened with a ferocious “One Way or Another” and straight into “Hanging on the Telephone.” And there they were, these - as Shirley Manson had said during her set - “Icons of Rock,” and I was standing mere feet away from them. I’ll never be able to go back to CBGB in the 70s and this show wasn’t that, but I was struck instantly by how this band was still sounding so fucking good after all these years and how they had so much energy. Continuing my focus on drummers, Clem Burke has not lost a single beat and I was kind of out of breath just watching his aerobic display.

What mostly stood out to me during this set was how this was not a set by a band relying on their past glory. Their latest album Pollinator features songs written mostly by or with other artists such as Johnny Marr, Sia, Charli XCX and Dev Hynes. The new songs are good and relevant and the album is solid. But I have to say these songs really came alive when played live. They didn’t just stand up next to the classics, they brought their own vibe to the party as well and it was more than welcomed. In an unexpected twist, I saw several people singing along to the new songs. And not for nothing, but at Guns n Roses, mostly people just sat through songs from Chinese Democracy. But that’s to be expected. This band may not be all the original members, but the history of the band is one that is too complicated to be hung up on that. The core of the band, Debbie Harry, Chris Stein and Clem Burke have held in place and rather than having interchangeable hired hands come in, they’ve just expanded their core over the years. So, Leigh Foxx, Matt Katz-Bohen and Tommy Kessler are absolutely vital parts of this whole and it comes through in every note.

About halfway through, a raucous “Rapture” lead to a cover of Dylan’s “Rainy Day Women #12 and 35” that was unexpected but still had us all singing the “everybody must get stoned” chorus with glee. And then came what was probably the standout song of the night, from the new album, a cover of “Fragments” by an Unkindness. This song is rather grand in scope, going from ballad to driving plea and back, in an almost theatrical, progressive structure. It’s a song where the band as a whole can really shine due to the complexity and they didn’t just shine, they blew the roof off of the place with it. It’s a longish song but god damn it if I didn’t want it to continue. When the last note played, I was just standing there awestruck and I don’t think I was alone. This is good on the album, but live it was absolutely holy.

I was beyond happy that they played one of my favorite songs of all time by anyone, “Atomic.” And they didn’t just play it, they played the fuck out of it, with Ms. Harry smiling, jumping and dancing like a 20 year old. They could have just ended it there and I would have been happy. But then came “Heart of Glass” with just as much joy and energy as they started with. For the encore, they came back for “The Tide is High” and closed the show with a performance of “Dreaming” that was sincerely inspiring and moving. At one point Ms. Harry spoke as the band played, calling on us to dream and be creative not just as a means to achieving personal fulfillment, but a call for creativity as a method of protest in a time when it is sorely needed. She repeated the line “dreaming is free” over and over as the band played and I felt myself getting choked up. It's the simplest things that make a difference sometimes. And that’s where I was really struck with the contrasts of the show I’d seen the previous night and this one. Heroes can fall or sell out. They can refuse to let go when they should or quit while they’re ahead. They can be replaced or forgotten altogether. They can stop being relevant or they can transcend. They can fade away or radiate.

Shirley Manson spoke several times during her set, shouting out her tour mates and particularly pointing out that being a woman in rock is hard and takes a tough woman. She praised both Deap Vally and Debbie Harry for this and thereby glued the show together as, not so much a statement, but a celebration of women in rock and I can’t think of three bands that could better represent this at this moment. The progression is clear between the 3 and it’s fantastic that they can coexist simply as badass musicians, icons and heroes.

La Santa Cecilia at Gusman Concert Hall

When I first started this blog it was meant to be about how music affected me. How certain songs or just moments in songs triggered sometimes mysterious emotional responses in me. It came from the fact that since I was a kid, there were always songs that would make me cry hysterically even if I didn't have a clue what they were about. I since have learned there is actually a psychology theory on this and that it has to do with high levels of empathy in some people that makes them respond emotionally to art. Last night, seeing La Santa Cecilia at The University of Miami's Gusman Concert Hall, I had what is probably the most intense moment of empathic response I've had in decades.

The Gusman Concert Hall at UM's Frost School of Music is one of the best secret venues in Miami. Its intimate size and cozy acoustics make performances there feel very personal without being constrained. It's not a fancy venue where the lighting might transport you somewhere. This is all about the music and the performers being right there, literally within reach, with no barrier between you and them either literal or figurative. We were in the first row, but I can't see how the experience would be that much different for those in the last row. 

I first heard La Santa Cecilia a few years ago and I'm not sure now if it was their Tiny Desk Concert or if I heard them on the Alt Latino podcast, also from NPR. Either way, I instantly loved their sound. They blend multiple Latin sounds from Cumbia, Rancheras, Boleros and more, with Rock, Soul and R&B. And last night I realized there's also a lot of Jazz in there that somehow glues all the pieces together. It never feels forced in any way and the balance between all of these genres is so perfect that it never feels like an experiment or anything other than authentic. And on top of the great players in this band (more on them in a bit) is the voice of Marisol "La Marisoul" Hernandez, with a voice that is equal parts passion, power and pride and communicates joy and anguish with every note and syllable, sometimes simultaneously. 

From the opener "Sucede" off their 2016 release Buenaventura, which is nominated for Best Pop/Rock Album Latin Grammy this year, I was struck by how tight they were as a group and how connected they are to each other and what they are doing. Song after song, their intensity and joy was coming through in their playing. Alex Bendana's bass was the ever present groove that flowed through everything. It was his playing, during the intro to "Falling" that first made me notice the jazz in their sound although I instantly felt like I should have noticed it all along in all of it, including some of Marisol's melodies. And of course the entire band was in sync, from Andres Torres on drums and Miguel "Oso" Ramirez on percussion to Marco Sandoval on Electric Guitar, who played a scorching solo at one point that had everyone headbanging. Orale.

But the moment that hit me was all about Marisol and Jose "Pepe" Carlos - accordionist and requinto player and in many ways, I think the member of the band that most anchors them to their traditional Latin roots. Before they played this song, Marisol gave an impassioned speech on love, off mic and clearly heard, saying she believed in love and how important it is for everyone to show love in these times of so much hate. As she spoke, her voice was already wavering and I already felt the intensity building in my eyes. She didn't only mean every word, she was feeling it and projecting it. Then, with only Bendana's bass and Carlos on requinto, they went into "Como Dios Manda" and I could literally see the tears rolling down her cheek as she sang. It turns out that the emotion that comes through in her voice on those albums is beyond real. I have no idea if she was going through something or if that song has so much personal meaning to her or if this is just how she approaches her art - by throwing herself into the moment full on - or maybe all of those. The point is, for that moment, the intimacy of the room, the raw nakedness of her emotions, the beauty of the song itself and the message of the lyrics all combined and I was right there, connected to her somehow through this song. I felt myself losing control and then, half way through the song, she went off mic and Carlos disconnected from the amp and she sob-sang the rest of the song in a way I've never seen anybody do before. I didn't look around, because as far as I was concerned the room had disappeared and there was only the song, the performers and me, but there couldn't have been a dry eye in the house. They finished the song, she wiped her tears and I tried to collect myself as everyone stood. Absolutely beautiful.

They went on to play several more songs, including "Amar y Vivir,"(above, shot by Carlos) a beautiful, traditional bolero written by Consuelo Velazquez.  The rest was mostly upbeat and heavy on the cumbia, a genre I've really come to appreciate a lot in recent years. They ended with their version of "Strawberry Fields" which is probably my favorite cover of that song ever, bringing new interpretations with each verse in a way that fits the self-interruptions of Lennon's lyrics as well as the piecemeal style of George Martin's production on the original recording (music nerd moment). When they ended, everyone wanted more and I did what I've never done, screaming out my request for "En Fin." I didn't get that request fulfilled, but I'd be a real entitled dick if I felt disappointed because of it. After the show we met most of the band and they were beyond humble, gracious and friendly. I do wish I'd met Marisol so I could have thanked her for giving so much of herself in that moment and allowing us to feel that with her. It's a moment that will stay with me. 

Ghost at the Fillmore Miami

I like raw, intimate shows, but sometimes, when the theatrics are done right, it can be a lot of fun. Ghost is exactly the right balance for me. The whole show is better experienced than read about, so I'm keeping this light. This is a band that somehow manages to maintain mystique in the era of social media, Nobody knows who they are or what they really look like. Think early Kiss, but more so. They don't even use their names. It's just Papa Emeritus III and the Nameless Ghouls. So why mess with that? And that's not to say the music isn't fucking great, because it absolutely is. I think maybe in part because they are all checking their egos at the door by choosing anonymity. Hail Satan.

One thing that stood out, in terms of theatrics, that I want to mention, is how much attention to detail this band puts into their shows. After the opener, Marissa Nadler, left the stage and basic changes were made, the music over the PA changed from 70s and 80s hard rock to what I would call a choral suite (I'm not that well versed in classical and I'm ok with that, so fuck you, hypothetical snob reading this). As the music was playing, 3 men in all black suits came out, bowed at each other and the audience, solemnly and ceremoniously removed the tarps from over Ghost's set and instruments, bowed again, and left the stage. A few minutes later, one more guy came out, did the same ritualistic bow, then proceeded to test the drum kit. So, even the stage set up and roadies are part of setting the atmosphere of being in a church. A Church of Satan (Satan, satan)!!!

Anyway, here's a video of the opening song, "Square Hammer" that Carlos shot on his shitty iPhone for you to be frustrated by. Actually, it's pretty good, so watch it on a big screen and turn it up. Then ask yourself: Are you ready to swear, right here, right now, for the devil? I am. I have. . .

The Smashing Pumpkins and Liz Phair at The Broward Center

I have a weird relationship with Billy Corgan. He made some of the most brilliant, honest and emotional music of the 90s without falling into most of the era's genre traps. The Smashing Pumpkins always sounded like The Smashing Pumpkins, no matter where that took them. That much I can say without hesitation. Mellon Collie is still one of my all time favorite albums, no matter what anyone says. Past that, though, it gets strange. Some of the music he's put out in the 21st century I kinda like. Some, I hate. And then there's his eccentricities which, you know, he's a human being, so that's his thing. And maybe it's exactly these complications that prevent me from putting him on some pedestal even though some of his music has felt so extremely personal to me, that make me respect him regardless.

I say all this as a frame of reference that sort of brings together a running theme that I've brought up often on here about how the 90s were a weird time where I was depressed and experienced a musical cultural explosion from a distance. It's a thing that I think haunts me because I wish I could go back in time and see these bands then and be part of this thing that felt like it was meant specifically for me and was exactly what I needed. So, on Sunday night, I finally saw The Smashing Pumpkins live and I didn't go back in time, but I might have gotten something else - something more grounded - out of it. Honestly, I don't know. Let's see where this takes us. I imagine this will be a very stream of consciousness type post.

Let's begin with Liz Phair, who opened the show. She's an artist who I've always wanted to get into, to really love, but have never been able to. I can say that I am glad she exists and everything she represents about women in music, in rock, in life are things I've pretty much always been passionate about. Having daughters now, it's only heightened all of this because while they are far from ready for her lyrics, when the time comes, they need this point of view. At one point, she talked about how great she felt to see young women in music who were now not held to labels that she had to fight against. Anyway, at the show, seeing her with just an acoustic and sometimes electric guitar, I really got a new appreciation for her. I always felt her voice was lacking before. On Sunday, watching her naked confessions set to music, two things materialized: 1. She's a highly underrated guitar player. Seriously. Not flashy, but the more I fiddle around with guitars the more I have come to appreciate just the simple act of playing complex and maybe not even that complex chord changes in an actual musical way. The fullness of her playing was really something. And 2. her voice is just fine. She has a certain understated range that can seem a bit strained or oddly disaffected, but now I think that's kind of the point. I don't honestly know, but she made me think of Dylan and it wasn't the last time this thought would come up that night. All I know is I went a bit beyond just being glad for her existence and now I need to reevaluate her catalog. She ended the night with a cover of "Nothing Compares 2 U"  joined by some of the Pumpkins that was pretty faithful to Sinead O'Connor's version and was pretty moving. A fitting tribute.

So then Billy Corgan appeared in a suit and hat, looking like an old blues man, and played some songs alone and acoustic and I was a little confused. There was an air of a late career walking into the sunset thing going on that was somehow more poignant due to his voice being inconsistent. And I use that word intentionally. Corgan's voice has always been an acquired taste, that again, made me think of Dylan. I don't say it as a bad thing. I think he's always had a range where he can achieve things by shear fearlessness that I think more classically "good" singers don't even come close to. But, even at his "whiniest" it was always consistent and you felt like he was in control of it. On Sunday, there were moments were it felt like that wasn't the case. There were cracks and strains that felt like they were out of his hands and more a sign of age than anything else. The thing is, as the night progressed, and I thought more of Dylan's latter day growl (the new band) it just made sense for Corgan to assume this role for Gen X freaks and ghouls.

As the show went on and he played a good portion acoustically alone and with Jeff Schroeder, there were moments where I wished the full band would come out and the geek rock passion would be unleashed in overwhelming catharsis. But then there were moments, like when Liz Phair came out and harmonized with him on "Thirty-Three" that were quite moving. When this older Corgan sings "And for a moment I lose myself/Wrapped up in the pleasures of the world/I've journeyed here and there and back again/But in the same old haunts I still find my friends," it has a new weight to it and his friends, our friends, are the songs themselves. Much like they were for me back when I first heard them. So maybe it's a different type of catharsis: a subdued and mature one.

Once the whole band came out, we were told that the following would be the part of the show where they played most of one album. Our selection would be Siamese Dream, which I do love, but I was little disappointed it wouldn't be Mellon Collie. This section did include a slowed down "Rocket" that I liked but again, made me long for the past. Also, no "Cherub Rock" or "Hummer" means I call bullshit. Of course, that regretful nostalgia was replaced by something else when they played a few Adore era songs, complete with drum machine, even though Jimmy Chamberlain was there. I didn't care for those electronic type songs at the time, though honestly, a couple of them that night I think I may even appreciate a little more. But it still seems like a wasted opportunity to not rework them with live drums, especially considering every other song played was reworked into something else anyway. I'm not sure why these had to be the exceptions that were presented exactly as they were on the album.

But once that bit was over came what was, by far, the highlight of the night for me. I've mentioned before how to this day, no matter how much it's been played, "1979" still gives me chills. Well it still did, even though his voice was way off. It was a pretty straightforward performance of the song, but it was a moment of crowd energy taking it to another level. It was the only time the whole crowd was really all in, it seemed. For an artist with a vast and varied career, that's a big deal I think. There was a part of me that felt this was the moment that would erase a little bit of my 90s regret nostalgia syndrome. That was probably too much to ask, but in a way that did happen. But not how I thought. I think maybe seeing and experiencing that single moment where everyone was connected through this one song, even though most seemed very far removed from the freaks and ghouls, gave me a new picture of maturity and of what it means to be an outsider. It was a picture that relates to Billy's suit and hat and to the idea of being a real geek or not or a real punk or not or a real anything or not. I'm not sure it's as simple as "we grew up" or we aren't outsiders anymore, but something. Maybe that there really is no "us" and "them" and the drunks dancing to this just because it was a hit song have as much claim to it as those of us that were affected by this anthem on a deep level. Maybe it's not worth thinking too much about or trying to put into words because it's not about words. So I won't.

I was pleasantly surprised to hear them play "Lily (My One and Only)" from Mellon Collie, as it's always been a favorite. And while there were 3 more songs and an encore after this, this was really the final song of the night as far as I'm concerned. I mean, come on, it ends with "good bye," it's just perfect. Instead, the theme that was hinted on earlier was sort of brought back with a cover of "Knocking on Heaven's Door" that felt unnecessary and a bit obvious. It was fine, I guess, but man that song has just been played out for so long now that you almost wind up respecting the balls to cover it again. Almost. The one encore was The Rolling Stones' "Angie" which, again, is a song I like, but felt unnecessary. It's his show and all, but to me a good encore would have been something like "By Starlight" off Mellon Collie. Of course if I had my way the whole show would have just been that album start to finish.

So I don't know. I guess I'll always have a bit of that 90s regret nostalgia and it'll be different for certain bands from the era. I'll just have to deal with the fact that I missed the Pumpkins when it would have mattered most to me. But I do have to say, like it or not, I think Billy has found a really great way to transform these songs into something that is still relevant to him. And that's good, but he could use some editing, maybe (said the guy that just posted this rambling thing).

An Evening with Brandi Carlile at The Parker Playhouse

I only got into Brandi Carlile about 5 or 6 years ago, but instantly fell in love with her voice. One day, while listening to her catalog the first time through, I was listening to "Pride and Joy" and sort of got lost in a cross generational day dream that made the whole song very personal and emotional. I imagined the conversation in this song to be one where I was speaking to my dad at times, to my daughter at others and finally, in some future, my daughter speaking to me. My dad had passed about a year before my daughter came along, and I've mentioned before that when she did, it somehow made me feel more connection to my father. So, anyway, I got to hear Brandi play this song live last night, finally, among others at the Parker Playhouse and it was a really fantastic show.

It was to be an evening with Brandi Carlile, no band, just solo acoustic. The Parker Playhouse is small to midsized theater so there's not a bad seat in the house and the acoustics are perfect. At times I wished her mic was slightly louder, but I think that's because my ear is stuffed up. At one point she went off mic for "What Can I Say," which is now the third time I've seen an artist do that (BRMC and Elvis Costello where the others) and each time, it just totally blows me away. It's one thing when an artist can project well enough to do that in the right venue, but what makes it extra special is when they have the unspoken power to keep the audience perfectly quiet while doing so. There's something really magical about being completely silent with a large group of strangers, intently listening to and connecting with and through a naked performance like that. Glad someone posted this on YouTube. Thanks, hartsfelder, whoever you are.

I'd been wanting to see Brandi since I first heard her. When I first heard about the show I already had tickets to see Gary Clark, Jr. but this was honestly an easy decision for me. I'll catch Gary at some point. Throughout the night I was glad I was seeing her in this setting, while also wishing I could see her with her band as well. Maybe next time, but nothing is lost when she strips down some of the bigger songs like "Raise Hell" or "The Story." And, really, I'll always lean toward the intimate performances more. So seeing her with the band would be great, but I would want it to be a small venue as well. 

One of her encores really blew me away and almost deserves it's own post. She said she sings this song for her daughter as a lullaby, then proceeded to play The Pretenders' "I'll Stand By You." Holy fuck. Maybe because of the time that song came out and the emotional state I was in back then, it has always gotten to me, as it is. But the simple framing of her singing this to her daughter made me think of my daughters and put the song in a whole new perspective and I was seriously choked up. When she went to the higher octave on this, I wasn't sure I would be able to keep from sobbing. Thanks again to hartsfelder for capturing this.

A lot of labels can get applied to music and musicians. And many musicians seem to embrace these labels either because it helps to sell records or I don't know. Not the point. The point is that some musicians, like Brandi, are clearly about the music, the songs, and not the labels. Yes, at one point last night she referred to herself as a "lesbian folk singer" while telling a story about Justin Beiber at the Grammys, but it was done with a bit of sarcasm. So when she closed the night with "Amazing Grace," not only off mic, but in the dark it was a moment that shows why I'm a fan. It's all about the music, not her.

Silversun Pickups at Culture Room, January 8, 2016

Last Friday, on Bowie's birthday, no less, I went to see Silversun Pickups with Carlos. I had heard a few songs before, but this was his thing. I asked him to write a guest post. One thing he didn't mention was the opening band, Sweet Bronco, a local band that pretty much blew me away with a sound that brought to mind Joy Division among others but with more of a melodic sensibility. I will be keeping an eye on them. Oh, yeah and Silversun Pickups was great too. What I most like about them is the heavy bottom to everything. But let Carlos tell it. And when you're done, go check out his blogs Always Indigo and Cinesthesia.

About five or six years ago, I was flying from Los Angeles to Ft. Lauderdale when, bored out of my mind from the almost five-hour trip, I decided to listen to some music from the in-flight selections. Among the usual pop crap, I happened upon a band name which sounded intriguing: Silversun Pickups. I pressed play on their album Swoon (2009). "The Royal We" immediately grabbed me, reminding me somewhat of Smashing Pumpkins with its fierce interplay between soft and loud dynamics and lead vocalist’s Brian Aubert’s half-whispered, half-snarled delivery. This was good stuff - hard-hitting, yet surprisingly melodic alternative-shoegazing-emo rock... or something of the sort. I don’t care about labels. All I know is by the time "Panic Switch" ended I was a huge fan. Thanks, Virgin Atlantic!

I hadn’t been able to see Silversun Pickups live until last Friday night, when they lit up the joint at Culture Room in Ft. Lauderdale with a set that upset everyone’s – song reference here – circadian rhythm with its relentless energy. From the first song "Cradle (Better Nature)", off their 2015 release Better Nature, the band was firing on all cylinders. I was actually quite curious to see how they would translate their heavily-produced studio sound to a live environment – whether they would be drowned out by the distortion and electronic effects, or if they would go for something rawer and more stripped down. Amazingly, the answer was neither and both. While the group certainly lets loose in a live environment, it was very interesting to see how, more than anything, they are about control. That cinematic give and take between delicate and harsh never comes across as forced, with the band members complementing each other at just the right level. And that was evident throughout the night as they filled the venue with their intense wall of sound.

Aubert projected both swagger and vulnerability as he wowed the crowd with his precise shredding and impassioned vocal delivery on songs such as "Friendly Fires", his voice about to break on the verse “So who could ever break you down? / And what could ever freak you out?/ If you can carry this around / Then you will never break down.” Bassist Nikki Monninger is clearly a fan favorite, as the audience cheered her singing on the catchy "Circadian Rhythm (Last Dance)", her shy presence belying her strong sense of tempo – there’s no denying her playing is the glue that holds the band together. Behind the keyboards, Joe Lester expertly manipulated the atmospherics, and drummer Chris Guanlao rounded out the theatrics with an impossibly high cymbal that he would frequently crash with delight. By the time Silversun Pickups pummeled the audience with the one-two punch of "Latchkey Kids" and "Panic Switch", Gerry and I were already about to collapse from the strain of standing for more than two hours and, well, being in our forties and out of shape. But the adrenaline kept surging and we soldiered on as the group played six more songs. By the end of the night, we were (almost) young again.

Later I found out that the setlist had included one of my favorite songs, "Cannibal," but the band had replaced it in favor of a fan request, "Kissing Families". While I would’ve loved to hear "Cannibal" live, the fact that the group opted to play a song from their debut EP, Pikul, speaks volumes as to their craft and respect for their audience. During the chorus to "Nightlight", we had all kept screaming the line “We want it!” Well, we got it. And now that it’s over, I want to get it all over again.

St. Paul and The Broken Bones with Seratones at The Culture Room

Back in January, I said I might have set the bar too high for best concert of the year because the first show I saw this year, St. Paul & The Broken Bones at The Beacham in Orlando, was on a level I never really understood before. And, although at least one other show this year came close (Ana Tijoux), I would have probably ended the year still saying that show back in January was the best of the year. Except that last night, that certainty was, at the very least, brought into question. Very serious question, by (wait for it) St. Paul & The Broken Bones who turned The Culture Room in Ft. Lauderdale into some kind of sweaty soul church that I never wanted to leave.

Sertones brought it.

Opening for them last night was Sertones, who were also pretty damned good. This band from Louisiana play a certain flavor of Rock n Soul that brought to mind some of the psych and mod influenced bands of the 60s. Their groove is heavy with an almost punky feel but still firmly rooted in R&B and soul hooks. I had only heard two songs before the show, (the only 2 currently available on Spotify) but I was bobbing along to all of it. They really brought the party vibe with them and it stayed all night. As a matter of fact, singer AJ Haynes came out to join St. Paul on their "last" song, "Make it Rain." She is an electric performer in her own right. Watch this band, I will be.

Browan Lollar

From the opening notes of the instrumental intro, "Buy the Ticket" the crowd was informed that The Broken Bones meant business. And once Paul hit the stage, it was a done deal. Everyone was in his pocket instantly. This is not the sort of band you see in small venues for very long, even though that's probably where they really do best, so I can't emphasize enough how lucky I feel to have seen them twice in small venues. And last night, it was front row, baby!

Throughout the show, I sort of dangled in a strange place of overwhelming joy where I had a perma-smile and was on the verge of tears. At one point, when they played "Broken Bones and Pocket Change," which was a performance that I don't even have a word for because it I'm not sure you can emphasize the word SOUL enough, I may have even gotten a little lightheaded. It would be easy to put the glory for this all on Paul, and the man is a born performer and really did own everyone in that tiny club, but don't ever, ever, EVER discount what the Bones are doing. That band, as a unit, as individuals, as conduits for everything they play, is impeccable.

St. Paul Janeway preaching.

They played a lot of new songs last night that hint at a funkier direction on the album they mentioned they were going into the studio to start recording. They played a fucking mind melting cover of The Beatles' "I Want You." I cannot wait to hear the new album and although I immediately and desperately wanted to see them live again when it was over, I get the feeling they will be too big to play the venues I like. On the other hand, they've been playing large venues and still found pockets to play small as well, so maybe there's hope. I hope. But I also don't want to take their deserved success away in any way. 

I don't want to spend too much time talking about it, really. So let's just leave it here. That show back in January was my first time ever going to a show by myself and it's an experience I enjoyed and will do it again. But when I left that show, I really felt evangelized and like I needed loved ones to see what I had seen. Hear what I had heard. Feel what I had felt. So when I found out they were coming to Ft. Lauderdale, I knew I was going, but made damn sure to drag some loved ones to church with me. Watching my wife and friends be blown away by this band was a feeling of not so much "I told you so" satisfaction, as it was a "yes, now you understand." And, really, no matter how much I write about it or show you videos, you won't understand until you're in the room, sweating and shaking with them.

Broncho at The Culture Room: My Mind at CBGB's

Broncho!

I've always loved the whole late 70s New York, CBGB vibe. And for me, that whole thing sort of extends to bands and sounds that aren't even part of that era or scene specifically, but it's what I think of when I hear even somewhat scuzzy rock n roll that is also kinda poppy. So I sometimes lump in stuff that's more new wave or whatever into the same grouping. And then again, the thing about the CBGB bands of that era is that there really was no "sound" to it. They were all very different. Talking Heads sound nothing like Blondie who sound nothing like Television or the Ramones. And Lou Reed and Iggy Pop weren't even part of that. Yet, last night, I saw Broncho play at The Culture Room in Ft. Lauderdale and those are some of the things and bands I thought about.

It's cool to be bummed.

But before Broncho came out, local band Heavy Drag from Miami opened up and I was pleasantly surprised. They bill themselves as a bummer band and I can see what they mean by that with the heavy droning sound and all. Their sound seemed to me to be fusing Black Sabbath and The Velvet Underground, a combination that seems obvious and which I'm sure many bands have claimed, but Heavy Drag also amps up the psychedelic vibe which may be why  it works really well for them. I would have bought their album last night if it had been available on vinyl (because I'm a hipster) instead of cassette (because I'm not a superhipster). None the less, check them out on Spotify and elsewhere. Well worth it.

Speaking of being a hipster, we went to the show to see Broncho, who were opening for The Growlers. Nothing against The Growlers, but I guess they're just not my thing so we didn't plan on staying and didn't. This is not the first time we've gone just for the opener. And it probably won't be the last. And since we wound up discovering Heavy Drag, it was a bonus. 

Whoa-oh oh-oh, whoa-oh oh-oh.

I'd been listening to them since their second album, Just Enough Hip to Be a Woman, came out last year. but still wasn't sure what to expect, but the bottom line is Broncho was great. I always forget just how small The Culture Room is and how great the sound generally is which was already a plus. Last night, I would say if there was any weakness in Broncho's show it was that they maybe went too loud, sacrificing clarity for the undeniable power and energy that the extra volume gave them. But, honestly, I can't complain because I didn't need to understand a single word Ryan Lindsey was singing beyond the "Whoa-oh oh-oh, whoa-oh oh- oh" in "What," or the stuttering "doo doo doo, etc" of "Class Historian." And while on the album their sound comes across with a heavier dose of glam, new wave and groove, live it was much more raw and, well, "CBGB," which in this case ranges from Ramones and Blondie to Iggy and Transformer era Lou Reed. So much punk going on in their riffs that I hadn't noticed until last night. And yet, still with the heavy textured effects and walls of reverb. It's a pretty fucking great combination that they balance without getting completely muddy. It's rock n roll, baby!

It was clear we were the oldest people at the show, which on the one hand is a sign that we're cool motherfuckers and the other is a sign that, no fuck it, we're just cool motherfuckers. We can only hope the kids at the show noticed and that it somehow inspires them. It's rock n roll, baby!!

Rock n Roll!!

Raquel Sofia at Gusman Concert Hall: Household Name in the Making

My never ending search for intimate concert experiences may have reached a pinnacle last night at the University of Miami's Maurice Gusman Concert Hall as part of Festival Miami. This was a convergence of perfect venue and perfect timing to see an artist who is well on her way to become huge and uncontainable by a tiny theater like this. Already, Raquel Sofia was nominated for a Latin Grammy which if nothing else, means that the world is noticing her, as they should. I had been excited to see her, but last night she delivered way beyond what I was expecting. And by the way, she's a UM grad, so it was a homecoming for her which added to the whole thing.

To be honest, the venue was in some ways, maybe too restrained and fancy for me. As a matter of fact, when we walked in we got free cough drops which is, I guess, a way to keep the old people coughing in check. Not gonna lie, I wound up sucking down at least one of those delicious watermelon cough drops before the night was over. But I digress. . .

Raquel and her band took the stage and went right into one of my favorite songs off her first album, the jazzy title track, "Te Odio Los Sabados." And right off it was the first surprise of the night since I hadn't realized she played piano, too. Instantly the sound in the place blew me away and I was starting to think I needed to see every concert ever in this place with the perfect acoustics, no matter how fancy. But more than that, Raquel established a presence the second she filled that theater with her voice. She then explained that the last time she'd been on that stage it was for her senior recital and had apparently messed up her piano section, so she was nervous but anxious to redeem herself. Well, spoiler alert: she nailed it. 

She then went into "Lo Que Te Di" which is a reggae infused pop song that opens her album. Here's where redemption started for me. While I had been excited to see her, based mainly on her Tiny Desk concert and other live videos on YouTube, once I heard the whole album I have to admit I was a little worried that the concert would be much more poppy than I would be willing to deal with. There's nothing wrong with pop, necessarily. Hell, I like some pretty poppy shit at the end of the day. But on the album, some of the songs feel like they're constrained by a production designed for more mass appeal. The raw organic feel that I saw in her live videos comes through once in a while, but overall, it honestly sounds overproduced for me. But the thing is, live, it was exactly what I wanted to hear, but better. And it's not as simple as the fact that live instruments were being played. The energy and the interplay between her and the band was exactly right and made these songs really come to life.

At one point, she introduced a song by saying they weren't sure they were going to play it because of the lyrics. They then went into "Hombres Como Tu" with Raquel rocking out on bass, turning this into the punky jam it should be. It's probably the song that most stood out to me from her Tiny Desk because it was cheeky and infectious. The version she played this time had more power behind it and made me realize that this song about moving past what was ultimately a mostly physical and sexual relationship with a shitty guy is really a hell of a girl power anthem. I have no idea if she sets out to write these songs with the idea of female empowerment in mind or if that's just something that comes through because it's how she lives her life, but either way, it's good to hear, particularly in Spanish. And this song isn't just empowering, it flips the script on the concept of sexual objectification in a really fantastic and in your face way with the in barely self censored chorus "hombres como tu, sirven para dos cosas nadamas: meter y sacarte de mi altar" (men like you are only good for two things, and well, it loses it in translation, but you get the idea). The fact that I sing this, again when alone in the car, always and only, means she's doing something right. And while my daughters are way too young to really get into a song like this, and I'd probably freak the fuck out if they ever actually sang it in front of me, I'm glad it exists. 

I'd be a real asshole if I didn't mention her band. Taylor Byrd on guitar and Brian Lang on drums are also UM grads and she mentioned they'd been playing together for 10 years. She called them her best friends and while that alone wouldn't make them all work together so well, it does come through. But aside from the intangible element of friendship, both are excellent musicians in their own right. Throughout the night, Lang's drums kept everything together and at one point he jumped on congas and snare, a combination I'm not sure I'd ever seen before. A stand out moment, that highlighted Byrd's guitar was during "I Have the Feeling I've Been Here Before," a jazz tune I'd never heard before that Raquel mentioned they'd done at their senior recital. I actually felt like I might cry during this one because it was such a moment of quiet where the performance was in perfect balance. Raquel showed what I can only guess is the full range of her voice with this song. What I love is that her voice has a subtle raspy crack to it that brings an extra texture to something that most people would expect to be all velvet. I try to play guitar, but watching what Byrd was doing from so close it's clear I can't do that. I know it sounded simple, but my fingers feel cramped just thinking about it now. 

For the closing number, they brought out a string quartet and did a song that she says she wrote in the darkest time of her life, but which somehow also ends up being liberating, "Te Amo Idiota." The arrangement of the strings by Byrd added a triumphant drama to the whole thing that was undeniable and truly filled the hall. And Raquel, of course, nailed it once again. By the end of the show, it was beyond clear that this young woman is going to be a household name very soon and if she's not, your house sucks and you should move. I get the sense that once she is more established her albums are going to become much more exploratory and somehow rawer. She plays at least three instruments, writes all her songs and has a voice that balances raw and polished like few can. I can't stress enough how everyone needs to check her out.

We stuck around after the show and followed a small group of people that had asked about meeting her. Once she came out, Carlos and I considered leaving because it became apparent that she'd come out mainly because there were a few people waiting to see her that actually knew her. And it was a little weird that these two 40 year old men were waiting among the few young girls who didn't know her. It felt a little like an imposition and not because she made it feel that way, but it was just awkward. But at that point, I kind of wanted to say something to her about her girl power anthem which I think she received as intended. She was gracious and very nice about the whole thing and posed for a picture with us. Next time she comes down, we'll leave her alone. Maybe. 

Buddy Guy: Blues Legend

Last night Carlos and I saw Buddy Guy, who I think is at this point, the last surviving big name blues legend, at Hard Rock Live at The Seminole Hard Rock Hotel and Casino. We sat down to talk about it. From different computers and places. Ok, we chatted about it via IM. Here it is.

Gerry

We saw Buddy like 10 years ago at that blues festival, how much of that do you remember?

Carlos

I actually enjoyed that more than last night, mostly because of the venue. The fact that it was outdoors and he was the one to close the festival. Where we were sitting last night was just horrible. Having said that, I remember his energy and showmanship being exactly the same. The man does not seem to age!






Which is saying something because I think we both are generally not big on festivals and outdoor venues. But I honestly barely remember any details from the fest. I had just seen The Code Talkers and by the time I got to Buddy there was a large crowd. I do remember him jumping from song to song and doing the stuff with the guitar on his butt and the towel though. which could get cheesy, but he pulls it off





I think we were separated there, weren’t we? I remember standing on an elevated hill.






 Yeah, probably.  I don't think I've ever seen anyone else demonstrate complete mastery over their instrument the way he does. He is always in control of that thing.  Last night I was right off upset that we were sitting. There's something completely wrong about sitting politely for the blues.





He definitely pulls it off. The way he talks to the audience, makes jokes. It’s definitely something to see. I haven’t seen enough bluesmen in my time, but I agree with you he’s a badass. How did you feel about the song selection?




 It was good overall because he stuck to doing a lot of standard blues numbers. I would have liked to hear some more of that instead of the super extended solos between him and his other guitar player, Ric Jaz. Not that they weren't great, but maybe too many.






Yeah, that got a bit repetitive. I did like pianist Marty Sammon’s solos, though. Almost made me want to go back to taking piano lessons. Except I obviously suck.





Obviously. But sucky piano and sucky guitar is all we need for our band.

I really liked the acoustic bit where he played bits of classic rock and soul songs. If the show had been just that, I would have liked it much better. Have you heard the acoustic stuff he did with Junior Wells in the 90s? That stuff is awesome.





Yeah, the acoustic part was one of the highlights of the show. I haven’t heard the stuff with Junior Wells, I’ll have to look it up now. I really liked that moment when he went into the crowd, singing and playing as if it was that easy.





That  was the other highlight. I kind of wish we had been more motivated to follow him around the venue with all the old folks taking selfies. But I think the shitty crowd and lack of sight of the stage from our shitty seats had put us in a bit of a shitty mood. We weren't our usual rock n roll rebel selves.





Agree. Then again we’re old. It’s quite possible the crowd would’ve trampled us.  Even though they were older than us






Fucking old people always ruin concerts for us. As much as you hear people complain about "kids today" it's always people older than us that are constantly getting up to go to the bathroom or talking or sitting down when it's a fucking blues show and they should be standing! Stand up for the blues, motherfuckers!





That reminds me of Bob Dylan and how you had to tell those two old ladies behind us to shut the fuck up.






And that time we went to see Rodrigo and Gabriela and the old Brits were talking. Meanwhile, there's Buddy, 79 years young, being a badass and cutting loose.




When we walked out we were talking about how guys like Buddy, B.B. King, John Lee Hooker and others had eventually settled into a more “commercial” and polished way of playing, when perhaps their roots were more basic and raw. And I wish Buddy Guy had been a bit more like that, less “safe” if you will. What was that great point you made about the way they used to play vs the studio?




That rough style we like that everyone imitates wasn't necessarily on purpose. In a sense these guys were always playing this polished style in their heads. I remember seeing some documentary where I think it was Buddy himself or someone else that mentioned that when they didn't have a mic, they would take a mic from a taxi dispatch place. They'd just rip it out and then patch the wires back together to plug into the P.A. system at the show or even the studio. So that distorted vocal you sometimes hear in old Chicago blues songs is likely because of that. But of course, that's part of what everyone later picks up on when rock n roll rediscovers the blues in the 60s. And Jack White, The Black Keys and everyone has picked up on it too. It's that garage aesthetic, but it always out of necessity not intent.




It’s interesting how that evolution has come full circle. In any case, I was glad to have seen him. Hopefully next time he comes around, it’ll be at a less shitty venue than the Hard Rock. The Fillmore would be perfect. And with people who stand!





I'd say Revolution or Culture Room.  Or my living room.





  Living Room Blues?


  The new album from People Who Stand.