In what proved to be an extra-special night of music, the road-tested acoustic gang of virtuosos known as Railroad Earth took a sold-out crowd at The Fillmore on an epic journey. They were helped out by an extra set of hands in the guise of one Mr. Phil Lesh, and together they took us into the outer regions of music and back again. This was one special concert, and I can't wait to catch them at this year's High Sierra Music Fest. Here's my write-up of the night over at Jambase:
If you're interested in hearing the entire show, a great audience recording is available for streaming/download over at archive.org. It was one to remember, to be sure.
The band opened with "Bird in a House," a lovely little ditty.
Sometime later, we were treated to an epic, loving reading of "Terrapin Station," helped out by his Phillness himself. This one is a must-hear:
For much of their almost 30-year career, Dinosaur Jr. has been a band that has defied categorization. Though it's tempting to place them in with the angsty post-punk scene that emerged in the mid-80s, these guys have a sonic palate that extends far beyond power chords. Thanks to the guitar work of virtuoso J Mascis, this band can switch from thrashing feedback-laced, abstract noise-rock to almost classic-rock sounding, Hendrix-like shredding jams at the drop of a dime.
This special night at the Fillmore featured a pre-show interview with Henry Rollins, followed by a full performance of the band's 1988 low-fi masteriece, Bug. Here's the writeup over at Jambase:
As you may know by now, legendary soul singer Etta James passed away today from lukemia-related illness. The woman had a voice of gold -- she was best known for singing the blues, but was also able to tackle any strand of American popular music and make it her own, with gusto. From rock & roll to R&B, blues, country, gospel, jazz, and pure pop and soul, she could do it all.
I had the privilege of seeing Etta perform live back in the summer of 2005 when I lived in New Orleans, working for Offbeat Magazine (pre-Katrina). She was lively, spry, and shocked us all with her blatant sexuality and filthy mouth. In short, it was a helluva concert.
Here's my writeup of this show, which was published in the August 2005 issue of Offbeat.
07-10-05, Etta James & the Roots Band, House of Blues:For 67, Etta James has still got enough classy sass and attitude to work her audience into a whooped-up frenzy. Shakin’ her ass and flickin’ her tongue like it was 1965, Etta was like the cocktail-party-lovin’ grandma that you’re embarrassed to have. With an electric, ebullient atmosphere flowing through the eclectic crowd of mixed ages and races, the Roots band started the show with an explosion of funky instrumentals. Etta soon strutted on stage with no introduction, and dove into her catalog of bluesy soul. Though she is no longer the big, boisterous woman she once was, (she’s now skinny and attractive), she has retained her trademark low, guttural moan of longing. And while her delivery has lost some of its forcefulness due to weight loss, she could still let her soul fly, accompanied all the while by her band's thick n’ chunky accompaniment.
Though she sat in a chair for most of the show, she nevertheless delivered the goods, getting up periodically to strut around and work the crowd with her confident, soulful sexuality. In a set that was sometimes gritty and other times smooth, Etta sang about love, heartbreak and yearning, mourning her way through “Blind Girl,” “At Last,” and “Damn Your Eyes,” and grunting and scatting through “Feel Like Moaning” and “Medley for Otis,” which included “Hard to Handle” and “Can’t Turn You Loose.” Her thick, throaty growl spread love and lust around the room, spurring couples everywhere to embrace and rub each other, especially for the encore “Sugar On the Floor,” a warm, sad blues in which Etta poured her soul out about being down and out, climaxing in an emotional euphoria which was the clear highlight of the night. It’s always a privilege to witness a true legend excel at their craft, and Etta went above and beyond on this night, injecting some real heartfelt soul into an otherwise typical Sunday evening.
Here's Etta spittin' the mean down-low soul in her 1967 hit "Tell Mama:"
Her moan was unmistakable, paving the way for the success of future singers like Janis Joplin and the like. Here she is performing “Something’s Got A Hold On Me” on the TV show The!!!! Beat in 1966.
Simply amazing. She had a real way of hitting that spot deep down inside you. R.I.P, Etta.
These seemingly random album covers share similar themes, though who knows what/if there's any real meaning behind them. Little Feat was always known for their irreverent/cartoony album art by illustrator Neon Park which often had nothing to do with the music therein (some say they severely detracted from the music). Lord knows what this illustration of George Washington and Marilyn Monroe out for a joyride about to get hit by lightning means. There's no denying, though, that it is brilliant in its randomness.
The Ry Cooder album features another joyride gone awry, this time in a '39 Buick convertible. Again, the cover art has little to do with the music inside, but it certainly tells a story which we can only guess the details of. There's a great little article on the making of this cover over at sleevage.com. And there you have it -- two fantastic albums featuring slide guitar virtuosos, brought together forever by vintage cars in a storm.
This fifth year of the Treasure Island Music Festival sported some of the most eclectic and forward-thinking music in the festival's history. And while there were some great acts whose sound just didn't fill the massive setting, there were plenty of highlights. Check them out over at Jambase:
Hey kids, remember After Dark? You know, that awesome screen saver program that we used on our old Macintoshes back during the dawn of the 90's? Of course you do. They were the ones who brought us the most iconic of all screen savers, The Flying Toasters:
This little piece of randomness tickled the public's fancy in just the right ways, helping After Dark software to skyrocket in popularity throughout the 90s. But few know that the idea to put wings on toasters did not originate with screen savers. Case in point, Jefferson Airplane's 1973 live album, Thirty Seconds Over Winterland(which proved to be their final album):
The similarities here were so blatant (down to the 1950's style toaster) that in 1994, Bay Area band Jefferson Airplane sued Bay Area company Berkeley Systems (the company that released After Dark) for stealing their iconic imagery, originally illustrated by Bruce Steinberg. The judge eventually dismissed the case due to the fact that the album art was not copyrighted by the time that Flying Toasters was released by Berkeley Systems in 1989.
In case you were wondering, After Dark screen savers are not currently available for use with your new MacBook. Berkeley Systems is long gone as a company, and it is unclear who holds the rights to Flying Toasters at this point. I'm sure I'm not the first to say that a re-release is sorely overdue....
Fusion Geeks unite! What is probably the greatest assemblage of pure musicianship on a tour in many, many years just passed through the West Coast, and I was there. That's right, a set of Frank Zappa music followed by a set of Return To Forever, the greatest Jazz Fusion band of their generation. The icing on the cake was that RTF was joined by Jean-Luc Ponty for this tour, the most rockingest jazz violin player to ever pick up the instrument.
Though everyone amazed, it was Stanley Clarke that stole the show with his mastery of the acoustic and electric basses. The man can really do whatever he wants -- he possesses complete precision and control of his musical universe. Here's my coverage of this momentous concert event over at Jambase:
Frank Gamble from RTF sat in with Dweezil Zappa and Co. for some guitar pyrotechnics on Zappa's "Willie the Pimp," and it was good:
Return To Forever then proceeded to take the stage and rip us all a new one with their instruments, which was also good. Here they blaze their way through "Señor Mouse:"
This week we feature two classic, provocative album covers. These two albums were released ten years apart, and not much needs to be said about how much sleazy rock music changed between 1971 and 1981 -- these crotchy albums say it all in a nutshell. In ten years we went from bulging denim to studded leather and chanis: the Stones paved the way for scandal and shock-rock (don't even get me started with their banned 1973 EP), and the Crüe ran it into the ground with their own shallow, over-the top brand, inventing Hair Metal in the process.
It's hard to imagine that Mötley Crüe didn't deliberately conceptualize their cover without thinking of the Sticky Fingers LP (photo by Andy Warhol, vinyl packaging complete with a working zipper which unzips to reveal Mick's skivvies), it's too similar to not be an homage. Whatever their motivation, these two bands were the leading beacons of Cock Rock for their respective generations, and these albums effectively exemplify this in an oh-not-so-subtle way.
In what proved to be an extra-special night of music, the road-tested acoustic gang of virtuosos known as Railroad Earth took a sold-out crowd at The Fillmore on an epic journey. They were helped out by an extra set of hands in the guise of one Mr. Phil Lesh, and together they took us into the outer regions of music and back again. This was one special concert, and I can't wait to catch them at this year's High Sierra Music Fest. Here's my write-up of the night over at Jambase:
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