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.

IDLES, NYC 10/17/19 - I Was Done In On A Thursday

I guess it was about 6 months ago that I became obsessed with IDLES. I think I'd heard one or two songs before, but it wasn't until then that I really listened to the message. When I played Joy as an Act of Resistance for the first time I was moved in so many ways. The things they were singing were things I'd been feeling in stages for most of my fucking life and here I was at 46 years old before I really felt like another man really understood them the way I felt them. It wasn't one particular lyric, though if I had to boil it down it's obviously "The mask of masculinity, is a mask that's wearing me." But the entire feeling of the album made me feel heard and understood and like there was hope for the next generation after all. 

I've watched countless videos of their live shows and at some point while witnessing the beautiful madness I decided I must be a part of it. I’d never been in a real mosh pit, aside from that now almost laughable incident at Arctic Monkeys, 9 years ago. Again with those regrets I've spoken of before - things I wish I'd done when I was younger but I was too paralyzed by fear, depression, self-doubt and shyness. I've halfway denied that my increase in concert attendance over the last 10 years has been a midlife crisis, but in some ways I guess it has been. 

So, when I saw they were playing the last stop of a pretty short US tour at New York's Terminal 5, I started to figure out how I could justify going. And it quickly evolved into a trip where I would be alone in NYC for nearly 24 hours, with no room. Fly in, kill time, go to the show, kill more time, go home. Anyway, there's definitely something great about just being aimless and on your own in NYC. Still, it was a pretty long day before I even got to Terminal 5, so I was worried I'd be too tired to really enjoy it.

Anticipation.

I got there just a few minutes before doors opened, so the line was pretty long. Yet, somehow I got in, went to the floor and stood 2 people from the front. I was excited now. At one point, during opener Preoccupations, I really had to go to the bathroom and got worried because I didn't want to lose my spot. I actually asked the dude next to me to hold it, he said he'd try and off I went. Coming back I felt like a complete dick and also realized (or should have realized) that getting in and out of this crowd was going to be impossible once IDLES came out.  And when they did come out, and started with the ever building crescendo of Colossus, well, reality laughed it's ass off at my midlife crisis.

The crowd behind me, all however hundreds there were, started this slow, rhythmic wave of that was crushing everyone. It would come forward, then back, then to the sides, then forward, getting slowly more intense. I quickly put my phone away and raised my arms up over my head so I could actually use them. I instantly knew I was going to die if I stayed and that I basically had no choice. And then I went into instant denial figuring this would get easier when it got faster. 

Among the things I regret but not because I never did them is getting blackout drunk. There's a night I won't detail, where I remember grabbing a drink and then it’s just  hazy, out of body flashes of crying and panic all around me, and then waking up on the kitchen floor wearing nothing but wet shorts. Those flashes of haze, where the details are completely lost, are something I do remember vividly as being quite scary. Once the last part of "Colossus" started - the hardcore tag that was supposedly going to be easier - I started to feel like that haze thing was coming over me. But my terror was mine alone. The crowd was actually fine and there was no danger of anyone intentionally harming me in anyway. That much was clear, but made it no less terrifying.

Pic from the excellent piece at Pancakes and Whiskey.

As “Colossus” went right into “Never Fight a Man with a Perm” my mouth went instantly dry. I was trying to jump and scream along, thinking I just have to get more excited, which I did, but it was no use. Quickly, the spirit of denial that was trying to keep me there, gave up and said "fuck this dude, you’re not equipped for this, get out of here." Now I had to figure out how to swim against this fucking raging ocean current and get out before I passed out. 

It took the entirety of NFaMWaP, and into “Heel/Heal” during which the haze kept threatening, to finally get clear of the mosh. I have no fucking idea how I survived but I have a vague memory of singing along at several points, with what must have been a distant look of terror on my face, in between shouting “coming out!” to whoever would listen. At various stages, several people did about all anyone could have done in the midst of that chaos, yelling "let this guy out!" with concern and authority before fading back into the tumult. Thanks, kids, for helping an old man having a panic attack after biting off more than he could chew.

By the time I got to the bar where I planned on ordering about 5 gallons of water, I was completely drenched in sweat, only mostly my own. The pressure of hundreds of bodies pressed against me with full force and not having any control over it was still lingering in my insides and I have no idea how I stayed on my feet. It was like my internal organs had been moshed. But the thing is, I did stay on my feet. I came to mosh and I did. And no matter how it went, I can no longer say I never did it. And now I know. And now I'm free from. . . something.  And it somehow feels like this experience has served as a surrogate for just about every experience I regret not having when I was younger. I don't honestly know why that is, but it is and I'm grateful. And now, a few days later, while the feeling still lingers, I have to say I would try again, maybe stupidly, but still. I would have to get in much better shape before I did, but if IDLES come back again any time soon, I may try to be in the middle of it.

The rest of the show, I was on the outskirts because at that point even if I had wanted back in, there was no penetrating the edge of that mass of bodies. I kept noticing how even by the bars there would be ripples of the force coming through the crowd. 

The energy of that crowd was the direct result of a feedback loop between everyone there and the band as one fed the other which fed the other which fed the other, etc. "Goes and it goes and it goes." This was the thing I love about music made into a physical form where you could literally see the emotional energy radiating through the crowd and back to the stage as band members kept coming out and surfing over them. It's one thing to see that on video or even from a distance, but to actually feel that in the room is beautifully powerful. 

And to top it all off, it's not wasted power. Because at the heart of everything this band does is community, love and acceptance. Being in a crowd that large that is receptive and welcoming of these things was quite moving. Singing “Samaritans” and "Danny Nedelko" at the top of our lungs together after Joe Talbot spoke about the fucked up state of the world and how New York was built by immigrants and the idea of true community was particularly special. 

Once it was all over, walking out of Terminal 5, everyone was overwhelmed by how amazing it was. Many were saying it was the best show they’d ever been to and as I walked the streets of NYC, no matter how far from the venue I got, I kept hearing people singing out IDLES lyrics in the distance from different directions. The message was spreading.

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. 

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.

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!!

Throwback Thursday - Fiona Apple Live

This post originally appeared on my tumblr on Oct. 1 2012. Funny how at the time I rarely went to live shows.

Fiona Apple - The Live Experience

I don’t go to many shows, mainly because artists I like are either dead or do not play near me often enough or both. So when I do go, it’s going to be a big deal. Last night was no different. Fiona Apple is a performer that I felt was important to see live at least once, since she’s sort of an unstable talent, and I mean that in a good way. Her songs are raw emotion set to music and as great as her albums are, the live experience had to be better. I wasn’t wrong.

The Fillmore in Miami Beach is a great venue and really fit perfectly with Fiona’s general vibe. It’s small enough to be intimate, but big enough to be able to contain her orchestral explosions. I wish we’d had better seats, since there were moments where we got to hear the band jam while Fiona did some things on the stage floor for the first few rows. But, really, the band was so great, it’s a minor complaint. 

They kicked off with Fast as You Can, which was dynamic and a good way to let you know how great they were going to sound from then on. Following that with On The Bound and then some other cuts from the first two albums made sure everyone was comfortable.

Interesting, to me, was that when she got Extraordinary Machine and Idler Wheel material, the crowd of damaged girls, hipsters, young and old, and generally lovers of good music, was not only excited, but singing along. I didn’t think Extraordinary Machine was a popular album, but but the title track was actually one of the biggest crowd pleasers.

The old adage of leaving them wanting more is good way to describe what happened at the end. After a rousing cover of Conway Twitty’s It’s Only Make Believe, Fiona leaped across the stage never to return. The lights came up and the roadies started taking everything down. No Limp, no Criminal, no more. All in all, it felt a little short, but was more than made up for by the power of what we did hear. 

St. Paul and The Broken Bones and Humming House

Definition of Soul.

I went to see St. Paul and The Broken Bones in Orlando. Took the family up, but went to the show alone. Only my second time going to a concert alone, but it will not be the last. Look, let's not mess around, the full review will be at FDRMX, so go read that. This is more about showing than telling. This show will be in my list of maybe top 5 shows ever. It might be the best one, if I really think about it.

I was going to see southern soul from Alabama, but first we made a stop in Nashville. These guys were awesome. Had a chance to meet them later, and they were very cool.

They also covered Justin Timberlake later, but I didn't get that on video, which is disappointing because it was the best cover they did. At several points, I'm sure they were looking right at me and smiling because I was so fucking into their music, I must have stood out.

This last song they played made me think of Treme and how awesome the live music scenes in that show were. So much fun. I immediately wanted to see them again. And this was just the opener, who I'd never heard of before. By the time St. Paul and The Broken Bones came on, my phone was almost full.

I had chills the whole time they played. I don't think I've ever been more excited to see a band before. Not even The White Stripes or Black Keys. I think it's because I knew this was a smaller venue and that this was a much hungrier band than at the times I saw The Stripes or Keys. Plus the connection to classic soul artists that I was born too late to see had me ready to cry a couple of times. Just simply amazing. Quite possibly the best show I've ever seen.

I wish I could have captured some more, but like I said my phone was full and the battery was dying. It's all in my head though. And after all this was done, I joined Humming House and am now on tour with them.

My new best friends.