When I saw that Elvis Costello was going to be performing in Northern California the same time I was making my quasi-annual pilgrimage to the homeland, I knew I wasn’t going to pass that opportunity up. Especially as he was on his “Spectacular Spinning Songbook” tour, a unique vaudevillian experience where Costello played the carnival barker and let the audience choose the set list.
I’ve seen Costello play twice now, in Oregon in 2002 and San Francisco in 2012, and each time it’s been one of the best concert experiences of my life. The man puts 110 percent into each and every performance, and is a true showman. For my money he’s got one of the richest songbooks in popular music, from the angry young man “My Aim Is True” era to the stately chamber pop of “Imperial Bedroom” to the twisted rage-rock of “Brutal Youth” to the bittersweet country rock of "National Ransom."
And at San Francisco’s historic Warfield theatre the other night, Costello traveled through it all. The “spinning songbook” is a gimmick he briefly used back in the 1980s and has revived for his new tour, a “Wheel of Fortune” style device that audience members are invited to spin, and wherever it stops, Costello plays a tune. Costello adopts the huckster persona of “Napoleon Dynamite” (which predates the kitschy movie by years, thanks) and the stage includes such oddities as a “society lounge” bar and a go-go dancer cage eager fans are invited to enter. It all rides the line between cheesy and cool but Costello delivers it firmly tongue-in-cheek. Even the go-go dancing cage worked, and we got to see some truly terrible white folks' dancing from some of the audience members, but everyone was having a blast. The Imposters were in great form too, especially the invaluable Steve Nieve on keyboards (and occasionally, a great theremin).
Costello and the Imposters were on fire from the start, blasting out with a mini-set that included a roaring “Lipstick Vogue” and a sprawling “Watching The Detectives” before the wheel-spinning began. Selections on the wheel included individual songs and “theme” picks like “Time” or “Roses” that would launch a few grouped songs. Having ordinary folk come up and interact with Costello made the concert have a nifty community feeling, and the wheel made the concert a nice mix of classics and rarities and some great covers. A dynamic version of “Episode of Blonde” saw Elvis wandering the entire audience as he sang, even coming up onto the balcony not 10 feet away from me.
The concert really had me once again appreciating Costello’s vast resume of songs – “Everyday I Write The Book,” a haunting “Deep Dark Truthful Mirror,” fierce takes on “Mystery Dance” and “Radio Radio.” It also opened my eyes to how good Costello can be at covers, and his deep appreciation of other artists. Few musicians have such eclectic tastes from country to opera to pop, and this night Costello took on the Rolling Stones (a wonderful, singalong “Out of Time”), Chuck Berry (“No Particular Place To Go”), an utterly joyful Beatles “Please Please Me” and a song that particularly appealed to this Bay Area crowd, the Grateful Dead’s “Ramble On Rose.” By the time it wrapped up after 2 ½ hours with a boisterous “(What’s So Funny About) Peace, Love and Understanding,” we were all converted to the Church of the Spectacular Singing Songbook.
It was a great show – the only flaws being that my balcony seat kind of obscured the colourful wheel and that people around me couldn’t stop fiddling with their damn iPhones during the show (hey, I love my iPhone too, but I’m able to stop playing with it sometimes). Oh, and after the show I had to walk across town through San Francisco's seediest neighborhood The Tenderloin at nearly midnight, but hey, I survived!
Some bands will always take you to a certain time in your life. For me, Urge Overkill is the sound of 1993.
Urge were a bit of the odd man out in the mid 1990s, the era of grunge. I loved the whole grunge thing, but Urge's vibe were more old-school 70s arena rock - taking a tip from bands like Cheap Trick and Kiss, but with songs also steeped in the Husker Du/Replacements style of gritty punkpop. The band dressed like hipster dandies and never wore flannel. They even had a logo, for crying out loud - how un-grunge!
But I loved Urge Overkill, particularly the one-two punch of their great power pop albums "Saturation" and "Exit The Dragon," their last gasp before the band broke up in the mid 1990s. Their biggest popular hit was their cover on Neil Diamond's "Girl, You'll Be A Woman Soon" from the movie Pulp Fiction, a great song but not really representative of the Urge's full talents. At their best, Urge were hard-rocking, witty, and slick in a groovy kind of way.
Because no bands ever break up forever any more, a reunited Urge Overkill came to the Kings Arms in New Zealand this week for their first show in decades - whippet-thin frontman Nash Kato looking barely aged a day since the 1990s, with his sunglasses and floppy hair. Eddie "King" Roeser and Kato traded off vocals and guitar licks in a fun hour or so set. Pal Bob and I went to check it out.
I remember listening to "Saturation" incessantly in 1993, living in this wee tiny trailer with cinderblock bookcases. At 22 or so, at a point when you have no idea where you're going to end up in life, Urge's "Positive Bleeding" was a kind of anthem for me -- "I live my life with no control of my destiny / I can bleed when I want to bleed."
There was a heap of 1990s nostalgia going on for the Urge's reunion show down here. Sometimes muddy sound and a smallish crowd didn't dim the band's terrific energy. Highlights includes a great show-opening turn on "Positive Bleeding," plus welcome takes on "Saturation" album cuts "Bottle of Fur" and "Heaven 90210," two of my favorites. Urge also dipped into their fun new "comeback" album "Rock 'N' Roll Submarine" a few times, which maintains the feel of their 1990s work very well. "Girl, You'll Be A Woman Soon" was hauled out for the encore with a raggedy loose version, while the pounding "Sister Havana" wrapped things up. Urge put on a tight, good-natured show, looking happy to hit New Zealand on their second life. Glad to see you guys too, and thanks for making me feel like it was 1993 all over again for an hour or so.
A band with rousing accordion riffs, a thundering horn section and the occasional lusty tuba solo isn't the sort of act you'd think might sell out one of Auckland's top hip concert venues. But Beirut's sound defies the expected for modern pop music. Zachary Condon, the 27-year-old face behind Beirut, looks about 16 and yet channels that old-world gypsy vibe with a timeless, epic sound that sounds unearthed from sometime in the last century.
Beirut came to New Zealand for a series of great shows this week. The six-piece act are kind of world music magpies, drawing on gypsy dance, Mexican parades, French ennui and more to create a swirling sound anchored by Condon's soulful, world-weary voice and a cascading series of horns. At the Powerstation Monday night, they managed to be both epic and intimate. (Here's a few reviews by my work cohorts at the Herald and Volume magazine far superior to my own scratchings.)
I wonder if for much of the crowd Beirut affected them like they do me -- in the iPhone/Twitter age it somehow evokes an older time, a sense of legacy which often seems lacking in our live-updates-all-the-time world. Condon's lyrics often touch on the foggy border between now and then, a constant pining for an imagined ideal past. Beirut walks a fine line - their appropriation of the past and old-fashioned instruments, and Condon's youth, might make them appear too overtly hipster precious in their approach. But there's an underlying sincerity in their mournful odes and ballads.
When "Postcards From Italy" surged up -- a song I listened to a lot during the depressing days of last fall -- I felt a kind of cathartic joy, at sad sounding music that also is full of nostalgic love. Live, Beirut transformed many of their slower songs into jaunty waltzes -- the wistful "Santa Fe," the tender "Goshen." But they also unleashed the joy that music can bring - a grand voice, an accordion gurgling, a ukulele twang, or the kick of a line of horns blaring (Beirut makes the best consistent use of horns in pop music by any band since Earth, Wind and Fire). When all three horn players blasted their trumpets, horns and tubas at the same time, it's ecstatic. The rollicking folk-pop show closer, "Gulag Orkestar," was a dizzy blast, complete with tuba solo - how many rock concerts have had a tuba solo be a crowd-pleasing wrap-up?
What is P-Funk? It's a style of music, a state of mind, a sprawlingly ridiculous cosmology all shepherded by the fried brain of one George Clinton, who brought his outrageous Parliament Funkadelic gang to Auckland for a show last night at the Powerstation that was a non-stop three-hour celebration of funk, rock and the joy of letting your freak flag fly a bit.
Clinton's tangled musical legacy includes the bands Funkadelic (more rock than funk alone), Parliament (who are a free-wheeling party band) and a whole slew of spin-offs and side projects like funk star Bootsy Collins. I've been a fan of Parliament for a while -- a band guaranteed to cheer you up no matter how low you feel -- while I've only recently delved into Funkadelic's catalogue, an eclectic, beautiful and gritty mishmash of genres and sounds. I wasn't going to miss a chance to see Clinton's mad revue on a rare trip down under.
Admittedly seeing the P-Funk show is more of a nostalgia act today than I'm sure the P-Funk circus was at its peak -- Clinton is nearly 70 now and served more as the "grand conductor" and a genial stage presence rather than really funking out himself; his croaky voice these days sounded a lot more like Captain Beefheart. But the ever-shifting band itself -- by my count nearly 20 people, some old P-Funk hands, some new -- kept a tight hand, with the invaluable rhythm section keeping songs going no matter how far afield they went. Near-naked ladies and men danced and sang, joints were freely passed about, and pretty much everyone on stage took a turn singing a song. A three-hour-plus show bounced and rambled all over the place without a single real break, sometimes the groove only moments from falling apart entirely. The band masterfully tugged and pulled to keep the audience's energy up till well after midnight.
The P-Funk "hits" came out -- "Atomic Dog," "Cosmic Slop," "Bop Gun," "One Nation Under A Groove," a delightful "Give Up The Funk," and blended in with other more obscure Clinton tunes. It's the kind of show where Clinton's granddaughter came on stage in the middle of the jam "Flashlight" to deliver an impromptu risque rap, and it all kind of works.
The best moments were sheer transcendence -- A sprawling 15-minute or so take on "Maggot Brain" really got me. The song in a sense is just one massively anguished guitar solo but Michael Hampton's loving take on it was great. "Maggot Brain" is the kind of song that you either ride along with or find indulgent, but for the space my head was in Saturday night, I found it gorgeous and glittering. Last night's show nicely showed how Clinton's sound can spin from hard-rock crunch to dance-floor anthems at the drop of a hat.
At its best P-Funk is a music of ecstasy, a celebration of being alive for however long we've got. Clinton is one of the few musicians who can be said to have honestly created a genre all his own. Part hard rock, part R&B sway, part pantomime buffoonery and part magic, it's a sound that's well worth seeing live at least once to get the full experience. Now I just need a couple more naps to recover.
OK, so this week was pretty much a disaster I'd like to forget. The terrible earthquake, more dismaying family sickness news, lots of quake-related stress at work of course, and to top it all off my car got broken into in our own driveway last night; $300 worth of damage for the sake of about $2 in change.
About the only thing that saves this week from a total write-off is a cathartic, phenomenal show last night by post-punk pioneers Gang Of Four at the Powerstation. Ninety minutes, two encores of high-octane, lacerating guitar and bass and a frontman who seemed to be channeling David Byrne and Iggy Pop's illegitimate child. Some nights, you need to be in a row full of people jumping up and down and singing "To hell with poverty / we'll get drunk on cheap wine." Gang Of Four, to my mind, are an unfairly overlooked pivotal late '70s act who combined punk and funk to make political rock you can't help but dance to. Bands from Red Hot Chili Peppers to Franz Ferdinand and LCD Soundsystem owe them big. Their debut, 1979's "Entertainment!," is one of the signature postpunk albums, all coiled angst, bass that twangs away like a gong, shrieking, staccato guitar and chant/sung lyrics. Frontman Jon King and guitarist Andy Gill are the two founding members who lead the group today, and it's their drive that feeds the push-pull of grinding rock with highly political subjects -- "At Home He's A Tourist," "Natural's Not In It," and "I Love A Man In Uniform," one of the most sneeringly witty anti-war songs ever written. This is the band Rage Against The Machine always tried to be (and failed to quite live up to, but that's just my opinion).
Gang Of Four's songs are often accused of being chilly, with gloomy lyrics like "this heaven / gives me migraine" or the awesomely snide "Love'll get you like a case of anthrax / And that's something I don't want to catch." But live, King threw sweat, gymnastics (a headstand!) and microphone-stand twirling energy into the Gang's songs, adding a whole new dimension to their work. King was fantastic, swirling, shaking and gyrating like a man 20 years younger. At one point he sat out for a song played by Gill and I worried he was having a mild heart attack downstage. Meanwhile, Andy Gill had approximately one facial expression for the whole show but let all his emotions out with his scorching guitar work, which places its focus on bursts of tone rather than showy solos.
For a group that's got a rather serious reputation, I was pleased at just how much joyful fun Gang Of Four are live. Bass man Thomas McNeice, looking like a Lenny Kravitz impersonator with his swaying dreadlocks, was terrific at playing all the classic songs, sending out resonating bursts of corded sound that stabbed right through the audience. Gang Of Four played most of Entertainment! plus a selection of their other tunes and some from their really solid comeback new album Content. We had the seething blast-furnace fury of "Anthrax", "To Hell With Poverty" became a raucous mosh pit singalong, and "I Love A Man In Uniform" was an encore delight, while "Damaged Goods" closed out the set. Good show, mates.
Here's Gang Of Four on David Letterman recently performing their new single "You'll Never Pay For The Farm." Jon King in full effect!
I like my job just fine, but sometimes the hours are a bit unsociable. This last week I had a bunch of 5am starts, which leaves you a wee bit befuddled by the end of it all. So what better way to wind up a week than with some dirty shirt, sweaty rock 'n' roll and the Jon Spencer Blues Explosion? On an extraordinarily hot, sweaty Auckland Friday night, a couple hundred of us crammed into the Kings Arms to perspire away the work week blues.
The Blues Explosion have been kicking about for around 20 years now, with a high-octane, borderline kitschy blend of garage rock blues-punk, with frontman Jon Spencer channeling a kind of mad cross between Elvis Presley and Iggy Pop. You can trace a direct influence from the Blues Explosion to the White Stripes, The Strokes, Black Keys and many other popular garage-noise bands, although the Blues Explosion have never quite become household names. But they are awesome fun -- I first heard their classic album "Now I Got Worry" back in the mid-90s living near Memphis, and if I ever just want to bliss out with hard-driving rock 'n' roll, I go with the Blues Explosion.
Last night's show was cathartic fun from the word go, as Spencer took the stage in leather pants and at least to me looking curiously like a weathered version of Morrissey. With guitarman Judah Bauer and pounding drummer Russell Simins the trio blasted through 90 minutes or so of all their shoulda-bit hits like "Bellbottoms," "Wail," "Chicken Dog," "Greyhound" and more. Spencer kept hollering out his mantra, "Blues Explosion!" and on this sticky night, no song seemed more appropriate than "Sweat" -- "That's the sweat of the Blues Explosion," he sang, as rivers of the stuff flew off his mop of black hair. Yeah, by the end of the encore we were all pretty ripe and in need of deodorant -- but it was one of those great music moments as little shaved-head guys built like fire hydrants bounced around with high-heel wearing petite bar chicks and one extraordinarily smelly guy who looked like a missing Fabulous Furry Freak Brother.
There ain't nothing particularly deep about it, but boy was it fun. When Jon Spencer put down the guitar to engage in a feedback-lacked theremin solo, I knew I was in something approaching rock 'n' roll paradise and all thoughts of work and normal daily life fled my head. If you can rock a theremin you've got it going on. Long live the blues explosion.
I was an avid fan of pornography last night. The New Pornographers, that is, the Canadian indie-pop collective who played an excellent show at the Kings Arms in Auckland last night.
That band name is a bit of a joke -- there's not much immoral about this band, who for five albums have been exploring the pleasures of hook-filled, harmony-laden energetic pop. The main players are leader Carl "AC" Newman, Neko Case, Dan Bejar and Kathryn Calder, all of whom have had considerable success on their own. If you put Squeeze, Big Star, Cheap Trick, ELO and The Beatles in a blender you might get something like this all-star alt-rock grouping.
It was a hot, humid Auckland spring night, with sweat dripping off everyone. The Kings Arms is a right tiny, intimate place so I was less than 10 feet away from Case the entire time. The show had a freewheeling, relaxed vibe. Between the heat and probable jetlag by the seven-member band it took a few songs for the momentum to really get going and the sound was muddy for a few tunes. (The bass player actually missed getting onstage for the first song, which the band only noticed at the end of the song!) There were a couple of false starts, but there was an energetic good cheer despite the hitches. Throughout the night Newman and Case bantered snarkily with the audience. But like a steamroller, the band kept locking into these fantastic harmonic grooves where the combination of voices and their wall of sound approach blew the crowd away.
The set featured a heaping helping of songs from their most successful album, 2005's near-masterpiece "Twin Cinema". Newman led the show and did a great job crunching on guitar chords and trading off lead vocals with Case. It was a real pleasure for me to finally see siren Case, who's built the most successful solo career of the group. Her voice is justly famed and to hear her wailing out just a few feet away was awesome.
The Pornographers ramped through many of their best tunes such as "Use It," "The Bleeding Heart Show" and "Challengers." I've always liked how Newman's songwriting combines pop accessibility with twisting, strange lyrics, and as a live show the songs hit sweet spot after sweet spot. Nothing quite like the harmonies Newman, Case and Calder could conjure together. (And I'd think it's quite hard to reproduce live a note-perfect whistling chorus like they did in "The Crash Years" from their latest album "Together.") Sadly missing from this tour was glam-pop singer Bejar, who crafts some of the band's most addictive songs, but Newman did an excellent job filling in on Bejar's sneery vocals on songs like a crowd-pleasing encore of "Jackie Dressed in Cobras."
Here's one of my favorite of their tunes, "The Bleeding Heart Show."
There's a reason Paul Weller was dubbed 'The Modfather' of British pop. From his early days with the short sharp punk attacks of The Jam to leading the way for "Britpop" in the early 1990s to his modern soulful experimentation, Weller has been at the vanguard of British music, combining his idols The Who and the Kinks with his own fierce music and bittersweet passions.
He's never been huge in the US, but Weller's albums consistently top the charts in England; the whole country and its thick, living history and class culture are his muse. For my money, Weller's as vital as he's ever been -- this year's album "Wake Up The Nation" is a barnstormer, one of the best of 2010.
He made it to Auckland this weekend in a series of three sold-out shows at the Powerstation, his first appearance in New Zealand ever. From the moment he took the stage, clad in black and chatty in his thick accent, Weller did a fine job surveying his 40-year-career, mixing the old Jam and Style Council classics with his superb more recent work. (This guy apparently thinks Weller should have played nothing but Jam tracks, but I disagree -- the man's got a rich and diverse catalog, why not explore it?)
I actually really discovered Weller with his solo albums, particularly 1993's rich, soulful "Wild Wood," and only came to the Jam belatedly some time later. As he's aged Weller has weathered and seasoned like a fine old oak, into a peerless singer/songwriter who evokes a timeless mood tinged with that old punk anger. The best comparison I can make is to another old angry young punk, Elvis Costello, who's lasted far longer than anyone might have guessed by constantly changing his approach.
Weller showed off all his sides during the show -- highlights included a storming, psychedelic jam through "Pieces of Dreams" from his latest album, or the sweeping, eclectic "Trees," which crams together several different songs into one powerful mix. The "Stanley Road" classic torch song "You Do Something To Me" got a loving take, while "Echoes Round The Sun" (written with Noel Gallagher) was a feedback-laced gem. The old Jam classics could be counted upon to get the crowd raving, such as a bouncy bass-driven "Start!" (smashed together with the brand new "Fast Car/Slow Traffic" in a sterling medley) and a massive fist-pumping singalong take on "Eton Rifles," or The Style Council's poppy "Shout To The Top."
Over nearly two hours and two encores, Weller swerved from piano-led balladry to crunchy guitar anthems without missing a beat. It's good to see The Modfather is still full of plenty of steam and I can't wait to see what he does next.
Florence Welch, I love you. Seeing Florence + The Machine live at Auckland's Trusts Stadium was a marvelous show by one of the most promising young new musicians out there.
One of my favorite albums of 2009 was Florence + The Machine's debut "Lungs," which showcases Welch's remarkable magpie talent. It's a disc that draws back on '80s alterna-pop, run together with a modern gloss and strong vivid storytelling imagery.
She's boiled together the essence of several great women singers such as Kate Bush, Cat Power, Siouxsie and Fiona Apple, although her voice reminds me the most of vintage Sinead O'Connor with that mix of power and honesty. She can bellow the hell out of a note, but she can also manage whispers, snarls and coos, which to me is a sign of her strength. And the killer part? She's only 23.
Clearly, she's struck a nerve -- the audience at Trusts Stadium was full of young women singing along to every word of her doomy love songs and waving their hands in the air. Florence proved a marvelous live performer who was by turns art-school dramatic, sweet and charming and a howling banshee. And from this bloke's pespective, sexy as all get out dancing on stage barefoot in a swirling black dress. There's something about Florence's best songs like "Hurricane Drunk" or "My Boy Builds Coffins" - they sound like diary entries, full of raw passion and feeling, but she doesn't quite cross the line into being too overwrought and sentimental. There's a sincere intensity to the best of her work which puts shame to the "American Idol" school of singing where you wring the life out of every single note.
Highlights of seeing Florence live included a stunning entrance with "The Drumming Song," where Florence methodically beat a single drum to start the show; a great snarling take on her "Rabbit Heart," and a gorgeous shimmering backdrop of glowing stars to "Cosmic Love." She also previewed a great rousing song from her in-the-works second album, "Strangeness and Charm," which if anything shows her songwriting is just getting better. And I ain't a fan of this whole "Twilight" thing, but her contribution to the "Eclipse" soundtrack, "Heavy In My Arms," was a gloomy brooding delight.
She was clearly having a hell of a time, chatting up the audience at the end and reluctant to end the show. I'm eager to see where she goes next.
So last night was alt-rock legends The Pixies' very first tour in New Zealand, like, ever, on the road on their never-ending reunion tour, this time playing their 1989 classic album "Doolittle" straight through, beginning to end. They pretty much sold out the massive 12,000-seat Vector Arena, filled to the brim with former hipsters-now parents like myself (fun game -- count the balding 30-something blokes with shaved heads! Pretend they're all clones!). NZ has been waiting a LONG time for Pixie love -- I know several people that were practically buzzing out of their seats all week in anticipation. And it was awesome good fun, with Frank Black, Kim Deal and co. slashing out the riffs, yelps and screams like it was 1990 all over again.
It was a bit of deja vu for Avril and I as we were (probably) one of the few there who'd actually seen the Pixies live since they reformed in 2004 -- we caught them on one of their very first gigs almost exactly six years ago back in Oregon. So we didn't have the shock of novelty going for us, but it was quite interesting to contrast seeing them at a 1,200-seat club vs at a cavernous 12,000 capacity arena. We definitely had better views at Eugene, where the band was a bit looser (Joey Santiago doing an impressively fun series of impromptu guitar solos), but Auckland's show was a prime spectacle -- there was something quite awesome about seeing so many thousands of people so totally into the definitive "cult" band, singing along to grotesque and weird anthems like "Debaser," "Gouge Away" and "Hey." They were smoothly professional with just enough of a gritty edge to not seem like a total cash-in reunion tour, and the two encores were awesome, with fantastic versions of "Into The White" and "U-Mass." I'm just too darned old for the front row, but I actually like sitting a bit back from the stage and seeing the sweep of hundreds of heads bobbing, hands waving. Kim Deal was the definition of rock-chick cool, Frank Black screamed so much I thought his throat would explode, and we all thrashed away.
We also had the fun of people watching -- as usual there were a fair percentage of goofs who seemed to just show up to spend $100 on tickets, get as drunk as humanly possible on $8 beers, then get thrown out (the guy who got tossed out during the second song was tied for 'Winner of the Night' with the other guy who tried to vault a fence into the pit and did an amazingly epic face-plant on the concrete floor instead).
Anyway, it was totally cool to see the Pixies once again -- the last time Peter was just a 10-week-old shrimp, today he's a bouncy 6-year-old! -- and to see them earning the cash and the acclaim that they deserved back in the day. "Doolittle," at 21 years old, still sounds strange and spacey and surreally menacing, as fresh as anything from 2010. Gouge away, my friends, gouge away...
One of my favorite bands of the 1990s was Pavement, that Stockton, California quirk-rock band who combined surrealism with grunge-rock chops and indie low-fi weirdness. So it was pretty damned awesome to be in the crowd last night to see the reunited band do their first show in 10 years, kicking off a worldwide tour down here in Auckland with an awesome opening set by also-reunited local alt-rock icons The 3Ds. I came to Pavement a bit later in their heyday -- my favorite album has always been their emotional fourth one, "Brighten The Corners," which I played in extremely heavy rotation in my own chaotic personal summer of 1997 -- but I made up for it later by grabbing up all their discs (and also Stephen Malkmus' own excellent later solo work). Since they broke up in 1999, I'd kind of imagined I'd never see them live. But no band stays dead forever these days unless it's The Smiths.
Only 1600 or so of us could fit in to see Pavement at the full Town Hall, and it was a great teaser for what folks at mega-festivals like Coachella will see later this year. Despite a decade off, they're in awesome form, with frontman Stephen Malkmus seemingly ageless, a steam-of-consciousness poet in a preppy's body. Over a two-hour set with an encore they played all their "hits" -- catchy alt-rock anthems that were on high rotation in college radio back in the glorious '90s -- "Cut Your Hair," "Gold Soundz," "Shady Lane," "Range Life."
While there was a slight bit of rust after the decade hiatus (frontman Malkmus also had a cold, so his voice got a bit strained by night's end), the band was clearly having a blast, with wacked-out backup vocalist/instrumentalist Bob Nastanovich providing tons of energy. Pavement stretched out in excellent jams on songs like "Stop Breathing," alternating nicely between Malkmus' laid-back vocals and crunchy guitar freakouts. While sometimes I felt like the sound didn't help the clarity of Malkmus' vocals (for me, the words -- strange, nonsensical and yet universal lyrical wordplay like "You've been chosen as an extra / in the movie adaptation / of the sequel to your life" -- have always been key to Pavement), it generally came off as a polished band getting back in the game, rather than one of these all-for-the-money sad reunion gigs. (*Set list here.)
Long live Pavement -- the rest of the world will soon get to see what New Zealand saw last night. It's nice to be first sometimes!
(*So I'm not exactly 'un-retired' from blogging, but after a two-month break, I can see the way to perhaps throw up a post every once in a while when I'm particularly inspired, such as wanting to write about how awesome Pavement was. I don't want to feel constrained by "rules," man, like I was letting myself be before, so I can't promise punctuality. But if you're interested, check in every once in a while for the 'all-new, all-sporadic Spatula Forum.' Cheers!)
** Very nice show photo inelegantly borrowed from blogger Piero who was there too.
One of my favorite bands I've discovered in the last couple of years is the decidedly oddball Of Montreal. A lot of bands like to say they're "unique" and don't fit in one genre, but Of Montreal actually doesn't. "Techno-glam disco punk rock" might be the best quick summary -- frontman Kevin Barnes is like a cross between Ziggy Stardust Bowie, Prince, Kraftwerk and George Clinton. The band made their first New Zealand appearance last night, and it was a delightful circus. It was the first show I've ever seen that featured an encore performed by a man in a tiger mask roaring and a man in a dinosaur mask wearing a Superman costume doing drum solos.
Yeah. That kind of show.
Of Montreal didn't get going till nearly 11:30 (thank god I had a day off), and there were two opening bands beforehand, notably the Kiwi act Ruby Suns, who had a great heavy drum world-fusion thing going. Before Of Montreal took the stage, the tiger-man came out to rev up the crowd, and it was clear the party was on. For the next 90 minutes or so, Barnes & co. had a synth-pop and fuzz-guitar blast romping through their tunes - complete with animal masks!
Of Monreal's 2006 disc "Hissing Fauna, Are You The Destroyer?" is one of my favorite albums of this decade, "the sound of a nervous breakdown with a beat you can dance to" as I once wrote. Last year's "Skeletal Lamping" is nearly as good, full of slick and sweaty sex-obssessed funk jams that owe a lot to Prince. Barnes and co. are famous for an elaborate stage show, and they didn't disappoint -- the show exploded into life with "And I've Seen A Bloody Shadow," a lusty confessional song that featured the band's burly roadie, a dead ringer for Freddie Mercury, coming on stage in a Catholic cassock to "bless" the band, then tearing off his cassock and skullcap to reveal devil horns and muscles like the Hulk, all while the band blasted away. Strange costumes kept coming and going all night. It's the kind of theatrics that come close to pretension, but there's a kind of goofy lightheartedness to Of Montreal's masks and mock stage fights that make it work.
The Kings Arms is a pretty tiny venue so I wasn't sure how the band's stageshow would come off -- although it was obviously pretty cramped for space and a lot of the bigger elements I've seen in live videos couldn't come off, it still worked well and it was great to see the band so close.
I was really glad to hear so much off "Hissing Fauna," such as the mournful 80s-pop anthem "Heimsdalgate Like a Promethean Curse" (have I mentioned yet that Barnes favors really odd titles?), the several-songs-in-one romp "Bunny Ain't No Kind Of Rider" and "Gronlandic Edit" (hearing the marvelous high note harmonies in that songs live was terrific). The densely produced songs come off well live, with the excellent band swerving between synth-based dance beats and fuzzed-out walls of guitar that sound like a Sonic Youth solo. Barnes was a sly and intensely androgynous frontman, rarely "leaving character" but his rock and roll circus married hooky pop with endearing showmanship.
For a fairly accurate sample of the band's weirdly addictive coolness (and to get an idea if they're your cup of tea or not), here's the video for "Grondlandic Edit." Do not watch whilst on acid.
I have to admit, I was a little nervous about seeing Ryan Adams and the Cardinals again. He's either really good or not so good live, known for his temper, coming on the heels of a good-if-not-quite-amazing new album, and oh, he just decided to quit the music biz apparently. The last time I saw him 18 months ago, he was infuriatingly great, doing some wonderful tunes despite apparently trying to sabotage them.
But no worries, because last night's gig was an excellent counterpart to his dark and brooding 2007 show in Auckland. Ryan's mood was fantastic, I'd go so far as to say giddy, with that whole 'last show in a long tour' relief. Compared to the last show when I think he looked up and muttered two sentences to the crowd, tonight he was engagingly goofy, telling jokes, singing impromptu "band themes" for his mates, and even dealing well with a handful of really obnoxious hecklers. I don't know if there really is a Good Ryan/Bad Ryan, but we definitely had Good Ryan last night.
Adams' psychedelic heart-on-his-sleeve country-rock was in fine form, bouncing between ballads and rockers. Highlights for me include beautiful show opener "I See Monsters," a tremendously urgent take on "Rescue Blues," the excellent new tune "Born Into A Light" and a real gem for any Ryan fan -- a soaring, epic take on his superb cover of Oasis' "Wonderwall" (which beats the socks off the original, I have to say). I don't know if this really is their final show downunder for a while or not, but the Cardinals were in excellent form -- particular kudos to lead guitar Neal Gasal and the groovy pedal steel of Jon Graboff.
Auckland's been having a heat wave and it was a bloody sweatlodge inside the Powerstation. The punters were quite into it, which was nice except when the occasional yahoo acted out (great quote from Ryan when gently chastising one arm-waver: "This isn't Fugazi, you know"). Whatever dark place Ryan was in last time, though, it did make a difference to some of his songs -- there was a searing passion then to a song like "Goodnight Rose," which was like an anguished cry from the heart, whereas last night it was a bouncier, less stinging jam. You can't really judge a guy's life from watching him play on stage a couple hours, but I had to wonder about the whole suffering equals art thing. Who writes the best songs, Good Ryan or Bad Ryan? But still, it was great to see him happier yesterday.
And that alleged retirement? Well, the incredibly prolific Ryan deserves a break, to be sure, but I hope he doesn't stay quit forever.
*Photos are from the Wellington gig the night before courtesy of Flickr user aloemonkey.
I bow before the altar of Neil Young. Yes indeedy, he is the hope, the way and the light. He took last night's Big Day Out 2009 in Auckland to a whole new level of awesomeness, and showed why he's a legend.
Big Day Out might not have been quite the same for me as last year -- it was more of a novelty then, I saw a few less acts this year, and faithful wife wasn't able to go with me. But I finally ticked off an item on my bucket list and saw Neil Young live, and also several other great bands including TV On The Radio,My Morning Jacket and Arctic Monkeys. (I also learned my new cellphone's camera really really sucks, so the photo at right is from the Stuff website. )
But in the end, though, it was all about Neil, who rocked my face off so hard that I was picking my eyebrows off the field afterwards. Neil's easily in my top five musicians of all time list and frankly, he may not make it down to New Zealand again for a long time if ever. Seeing Neil Young thrash through 90 minutes of his biggest hits had me thinking "rock god" without an ounce of irony. Simply astounding, and hard to believe this guy is nearly my dad's age! If you closed your eye you'd think he was 30, not 60-something -- the freshness of his sound and voice is something even Dylan can't lay claim to these days. He had a cool professionalism (very little bantering) but a genial sense of love for what he does, still thrashing away like a kid in his garage after nearly 50 years of doing this rock stuff.
This was a set of pretty much nothing but hits -- "Powderfinger," "My My, Hey Hey," "Cortez The Killer," "Love To Burn," "Everybody Knows This Is Nowhere," "Heart of Gold." Now, I've always leaned more to grunge godfather crunchy Crazy Horse electric guitar Neil over sensitive acoustic Neil, but I dig 'em both. Still, I was happy as a clam this night was mostly Neil blasting away, stomping his way through his guitar solos like an old god made flesh. The mid-show acoustic interlude was great too -- the burst of cheers from the crowd when Neil strapped on the harmonica and acoustic was deafening. However, folks were so into it that during "Heart of Gold" and "Old Man" I mostly heard the guy behind me bellowing off-key over Neil! Neil plunged through his epic catalogue with many fine stops, but a true highlight for me was the rambling romp through "Cowgirl In The Sand," where I felt the guitar scribblings echo right along my nervous system. Fantastic.
Then came "Rockin' In The Free World," and I burst into a pillar of flames. "Free World" is one of the first Neil songs I ever heard, from 1990's "Freedom" album, and one of my all-time favorite anthems -- and it seems highly appropriate, to hear a song about the first age of Bush as the second Bush era comes to a rusty halt in just a few days. Young took "World" to a full-on blast furnace assault, with the audience yelling along to the chorus, stop-and-start feedback chords. It was quite possibly one of the best songs I've ever heard live, and when it was followed up a few minutes later by Young doing a surprise encore, guitar-string snapping cover of The Beatles' "A Day In the Life" -- well, between those two songs you get what the NZ Herald critic called "the most wonderful ending to a Big Day Out. Ever." I can't argue with that. Sheer bliss.
So what else did I see besides Neil? A rundown:
TV On The Radio: Sadly, a bit of a disappointment, but only a bit of one. I truly love their records, but their epic dense sound simply didn't quite translate to a hot field as well as it might, feeling sort of sludgy and taking time to warm up. But once they got going, the band delivered on some of their promise, particularly turning tracks "Wolf Like Me" and "Staring At The Sun" into bellowing freak-outs. Unfortunately by the time they really got going it was the end of their set! I'd really like to see them stretch out sometime in a more intimate club venue, as this felt more like a teaser. Grade: B Best song: "Wolf Like Me" My Morning Jacket: I have never been a huge fan of "jam bands" like the Dead and Phish, so it's taken me a while to get into these guys, who're often called stuff like "psychedelic space rock." I've heard a couple of albums but now consider me a full convert -- I'm loving their eclectic, guitar-drenched sound, which moves from country-rock to Prince-like jams. Singer Jim James has got a golden voice (if you saw the movie "I'm Not There," that's them on stage during the Richard Gere sequence). This hour-long set was just a taste of what the band can do (they did a four-hour epic not long ago) but I'm definitely tracking down more of their work. Grade: A- Best song: I'm not familiar with every track they sang (yet), but I really loved the take on "Golden" from "It Still Moves" and a really funky Devo-meets-Parliament number from their latest disc.
Arctic Monkeys: These spunky Sheffield pop-punksters have put out two really nifty albums, with singer Alex Turner sounding a bit like a fusion between Blur and the Ramones. Their set was most excellent, although it suffered some from being stuck before Neil Young on the main stage -- the band thrashed through a bunch of their hits and premiered some new material from their next album. Some of their songs run the risk of sounding a bit too alike, but they're definitely one of the most impressive young British bands going these days -- considering they look all of 15, I'm eager to see where they go next. I loved an unexpected cover of Nick Cave's "Red Right Hand" with Turner putting a bratty spin on the gothic gloom. Grade: B+ Best song: "I Bet You Look Good On The Dance Floor," their first big hit, is a terrific crowd pleaser. I did my best to pogo-dance in the mob.
I also caught bits and pieces of a few other acts I hadn't seen -- the electro-diva disco of Sneaky Sound System was quite fun, while the raucously cheesy metal-rock of Australia's The Living End was really a blast (reminded me a bit of Bad Religion). I would've liked to catch a bit of the Prodigy but they clashed with Neil's set and frankly, after that, I was spent as they say and anything else would've been an anticlimax. Neil!
OK, I know it's only a week into the new year, but last night's show is going to be hard to top. Picture Neil Finn, leader of Crowded House, jamming on stage with folks from The Smiths, Radiohead and Wilco and more. That was 7 Worlds Collide, an all-star three-night concert going on at Auckland's Powerstation and one of the biggest music events to hit this little island in years.
It's a benefit for the charity OxFam and a sequel to a similar 2001 event organized by Finn, who it's safe to say is New Zealand's most famous musician. The gang of stars are working on an album of new material and debuting their work and a whole slew of their own classic material over three nights of shows. I snuck in for Tuesday's event.
This was just about as much musical talent as I've ever seen on one stage at once -- Neil Finn, son Liam Finn, Jeff Tweedy and several other members of Wilco; Ed O'Brien and Phil Selway of Radiohead; the legendary guitarist Johnny Marr, co-founder of the Smiths; kiwi singers Bic Runga and Don McGlashan and many more. As a fan of Crowded House, Wilco, Radiohead and the Smiths, it was pretty much a dream show at a very intimate venue where you're rarely more than 20 feet from the stage.
The night was like an awesome sandwich with awesome salad on the side, smothered in awesome sauce. There was so much cool stuff to process that it's all a bit of a blur. That said, highlights were multiple:
* Neil. The man. The New Zealand Paul McCartney, who's written so damned many classic pop tunes they're spilling out of his ears. I've never seen him live, and the ringmaster of events here was in perfect form, bouncing between vocals, guitar and piano. Particular greats included him opening with "Distant Sun," and awesome sing-along takes on Crowded House classics "Weather With You" and "Four Seasons in One Day." Also great to hear one of his underrated solo tracks, "She Will Have Her Way."
• Johnny Marr singing and playing throughout the night, but especially on an utterly lovely "Please Please Please (Let Me Get What I Want)", quite likely the nearest we'll ever get to hearing a Smiths reunion. (Overheard on way to toilet at break: "Who is the guy who sang the Morrissey song?" Argh.) There's nothing quite like hearing Marr's distinctive chiming guitar live.
* Wilco are of course one of my top bands playing these days, and I was psyched to see them again less than a year after their last show down here. They played favorites like "Jesus Etc.," "War On War" and "The Late Greats" and one of my all-time Wilco classics, their take on Woody Guthrie's "California Stars" complete with Don McGlashan on a honking euphonium. Marvelous, and Mr. Tweedy in a very good humour throughout (even tossing in a dash of an a capella take on "I'm A Wheel.")
• Neil Finn tackling a full-throttle cover of Radiohead's "Bodysnatchers," bellowing away Thom Yorke's electro-rock vocals in wonderful style, with Radiohead's Ed O'Brien on fire on guitar.
• Guitarist O'Brien and drummer Phil Selway of Radiohead were fantastic -- O'Brien (who's like eleven feet tall) provided wonderfully spooky, very Radioheady guitar accompaniment to several tracks with Wilco and others, and Selway got behind the mic to sing a nifty new song he'd written, "Family Madness."
* The lovely violinist Lisa Germano (who's played with John Mellencamp and has had a very underrated solo career) added awesome textures to "Jesus Etc." and several other tunes.
* I named Neil's son Liam Finn's debut album "I'll Be Lightning" as one of my tops of 2008, so I was really pleased to see him here -- and the kid nearly stole the show at several points, really throwing himself into takes on his "Gather To The Chapel" and "Second Chance" (which featured a fantastic guitar duel with Johnny Marr), and joining Wilco on several numbers.
• Kiwi icon Don McGlashan was extremely cool, adding eccentric instruments like ukelele and euphonium to several songs and providing very classy vocals (a highlight being a duet with Finn on "Throw Your Arms Around Me"). Kiwi singer Bic Runga was great too with a countryfied "Change of Heart" cover.
• Of course this entire assemblage has been working on new songs for their forthcoming album, and premiered several tracks, including a new Wilco song (I think called "You Never Know") and Marr singing a track written by Tweedy. Awesome stuff. Tunstall and Runga premiered a nifty little "murder ballad" they'd written as well.
• I wasn't familiar with Scottish singer KT Tunstall but she was a real find, bubbly with enthusiasm and doing several great tracks.
• The encore was totally awesome, of course, featuring what I counted as up to 13 musicians on stage at one point -- all-star takes on Radiohead's "Fake Plastic Trees" (with a giddy Tunstall tackling vocals -- Tweedy had apparently sung it the previous night which would've been something to hear), Neil Finn and the rest of the gang tearing through The Smiths' "There Is A Light (That Never Goes Out)" and a full-band blast on the chestnut "Something In The Air" (which I know best from a Tom Petty cover).
I wish I'd brought my camera (I have borrowed the pics above from another attendee's Flickr page, and appreciate getting to see his pics). The only regret that I have is that for some reason I nearly didn't buy a ticket to go 7 Worlds Collide at all. I must be insane, I realised last night as the last stinging chords of Johnny Marr's guitar echoed in my brain. What an event.
Update: Totally grand YouTube footage of "There Is A Light That Never Goes Out" from the night I attended. Huge thanks to Youtuber lordez185 for the footage!
...John Darnielle is the rockingest hyper-wordy acoustic-guitar geek in the music biz. The Mountain Goats frontman and his two-man band put on a fantastic show at the Kings Arms last night in Auckland, short but intense and often very funny. I've been a fan of the Goats (basically Darnielle and occasional collaborators) for several years now. He's one of the best songwriters in the business and I've long wanted to see him live. There's few singers that can manage the fragile intensity of Darnielle's songs -- Auckland crowds are usually a bit rowdy at gigs but the audience was hushed and reverent as John spun his tales of beat-down outcasts, lost loves and confused minds. They even handed back John's guitar pick when it fell!
John was in very good cheer, on the second-to-last date of a globetrotting tour, telling amusing monologues about Norwegian death metal and songwriting in Alaska. He started the set solo with his acoustic guitar (which he still managed to "shred" on as he pounded away at it), then during a terrific "In The Craters of the Moon," his nattily-dressed bass player Peter Hughes and drummer Jon Wurster joined him onstage, exploding the acoustic tune into a full-on band set. One thing I really loved about John is how un-self-conscious this former psychiatric nurse was on stage -- he doesn't exactly cut a rock-star figure, with his bowl haircut and glasses, but his sheer joy in his craft is contagious. He pulled goofy faces and banged away at that acoustic guitar like he wanted to be Hendrix.
It was marvelous to see the audience at the Kings Arms were such fans, and slightly surreal in the encore to have cheery group sing-alongs to two of the Goats' darkest tunes, "No Children" and "This Year" (which feature oddly uplifting choruses along the lines of "I hope you die / I hope we both die" or "I am going to make it through this year / if it kills me.") It's very hard to translate on the page how Darnielle's intense wheedling voice can make words like these seem life affirming, but somehow they do. After the last couple of weeks, it was pretty damned cathartic to sing along with the Mountain Goats.
If I had one caveat, it's that it was kind of a short show, just over 90 minutes maybe, but then again, it was a work night and the wife and I were both worn out and eager to hit the hay by midnight. It was a highly enjoyable show, so quality wins over quantity this time. Props also to a very good opening set by Kiwi band SideKickNick, who put on some quirky and energetic power pop. (I've seen a few wretched opening acts lately, so when I see one I dig it makes the whole night a little better.)
For a wee little country in the middle of an ocean, we do get a lot of the big acts down here. All the venerable rock dinosaurs are coming through in 2008-09 it seems -- in addition to Neil Young at Big Day Out, whom I'm way down for, we're also seeing folks like Stevie Wonder, Leonard Cohen, Billy Joel and the surviving members of The Who (should that be the "Wh"?) I was really, really tempted to see Mr. Townshend and Mr. Daltrey when they come this way in March, but when ticket prices START at $150 for the nosebleed seats, I decided I'd be better off just popping my DVD of "The Kids Are Alright" back on again. Nostalgia is one thing, but yeesh, $250 for a decent seat is a bit much.
• On the other hand, my homey Ryan Adams is coming back to New Zealand in February, and while I had kind of mixed feelings about his last gig, in the end I remember the really good bits far more than the annoying ones and I'd like to see what he does again. I'm enjoying his latest Cardinology (which starts very strong, runs out of steam a bit in the end though). And he's playing at the Powerstation which is a great place to catch a gig, even if he doesn't turn the lights on again this time.
• Chuck Klosterman writes my favorite opening lines of the week, and I don't even really care about Guns 'n' RosesChinese Democracy: "Reviewing Chinese Democracy is not like reviewing music. It's more like reviewing a unicorn." A great little essay piece from a critic who shames me.
• Very cool late birthday present of the week: Johnny Cash At Folsom Prison Legacy 3-disc special edition set, which includes two entire shows from the Man in Black's fateful prison concert, and a DVD documentary which I haven't even cracked open yet. Just hearing the entire show is quite a trip, though -- it's been built up as one of those mythic musical moments, and yeah, a fair amount of it was artifice and stagecraft, but still -- there's something there, in the joyous howl of the inmates' voices and Cash's cool calm control as he sings 'em a few numbers. One of the great high-wire balancing acts in music history and an absolutely fantastic reissue box package by Sony/Legacy, too.
Ahh, summer (er, in New Zealand) is near and that means summer concerts! Why, it's been months since I've gone to a gig, since my three-show-run in March of Cat Power, Iron & Wine and Wilco. But tunes lurk ahead -- the Mountain Goats have FINALLY rescheduled the show they were supposed to do down here earlier this year, for right before Christmas, and yep, the wife and I are going. Their latest, "Heretic Pride," is one of my favorites of the year and the club they're playing in is supposed to be nicely intimate.
Also today we got a look at the lineup for NZ's biggest music event of the year, the Big Day Out 2009. It's hard to top last year's stellar lineup -- Spoon, Arcade Fire, Billy Bragg, Bjork, LCD Soundsystem all in one go? With ticket prices in the three-digit range you've got to get a decent amount of value for your money, to put up with the crowds and heat and so forth.
This year's lineup for the January festival gets a big plus with me with headliner Neil Young, one of my top 5 artists and one I've never seen live. He's coming with Crazy Horse so expect the loudness, and, at 62, I'm thinking I may not get too many more chances to see Neil live. So big incentive for tickets there.
Also on the bill is TV On The Radio, the art-rock Brooklyn combo whose new album "Dear Science" is way cool and I'll be writing more about soon. Another plus. But after that my interest level drops a bit -- My Morning Jacket and Prodigy would be quite interesting to see, but not enough to draw me out on their own. And I've quite enjoyed the newbie punk-pop Arctic Monkeys, although I'm not really a fan of being shoved around by people 20 years younger than me in mosh pits anymore. The rest of the bands either I'm not familiar with or don't much care about -- the Ting Tings, Black Seeds, The Datsuns and many more.
So I've got two "must-sees" and a handful of "like to see's." Does that merit a ticket? Not sure yet. But it's Neil, man. Neil. They usually announce a few more bands (I'd really dig it if the rumoured Beck would come), so I can hold off on the spending for now at least.
Monday, March 24, 2008
Concert review: Wilco, Auckland, Easter Sunday
Ah, Wilco, Wilco, Wilco. If there's a better live American rock band right now I can't think what it is. Their first "real show" in Auckland (previous appearances have all been at festivals) was a 2 1/2-hour stunner, packed with classics and rarities by one of the tightest bands on the road. Can't think of a better way to finish up an excellent long Easter weekend.
I've been a fan of Jeff Tweedy and co. since the Uncle Tupelo days, and what's fascinating to me about Wilco is how they started off as a rather run-of-the-mill alt-country band like the Jayhawks or Old 97s, but have blown up into so much more. Over the last 13 years they've swerved from country balladry to psych-rock weirdness to hard rock bashing to excursions into krautrock and experimental soundscapes. They've been called the "American Radiohead" but I think that's a rather lazy description for a band that's uniquely Americana, twisting the old cowboy tunes into an often-surreal journey through the states of the mind and heart. Their songs are caked with road dust.
I've been on a mad great run of shows in the past month (Sonic Youth, Cat Power, Iron & Wine and this), but this is right at the top of concert experiences – I sat in the front row right behind the open pit, Tweedy directly in my sight line about 30 feet away, sound was excellent and not TOO loud, and the band was in top form. I loved how a great part of the set was derived from their 2002 masterpiece-to-date, "Yankee Hotel Foxtrot." Particular highlights included the slowly building opener "Sunken Treasure," a dazzling "Via Chicago," and a particular favorite of mine, the Woody Guthrie-penned "California Stars." I also loved the 10-minute-plus take on "Spiders (Kidsmoke)" during the first encore, which chugged along and kept exploding into cathartic release. Tweedy was in great, genial form, cracking jokes in the audience and repeatedly expressing his love for Kiwiland (at one point accepting a male audience member's offer to marry him "if that's what it takes to emigrate").
Tweedy and sturdy bassist John Stirratt are the only remaining members of Wilco's original incarnation, but the newer members are what make the band so dazzing live - particularly drummer Glenn Kotche, and lead guitarist Nels Cline, who's just astounding. Nels could shift from pedal-steel country laments to blues riffs to utterly spacey, experimental textures at the drop of a hat. He's amazingly versatile and one of the best guitarists I've seen (and the guy is in his 50s!). The spooky underwater-rock drifts of "Yankee Hotel Foxtrot" would seem hard to duplicate live, but Cline's anchor of sound brought tunes like "Jesus, Etc." and "A Shot In The Arm" to dazzling life. Put 'em all together, and these six guys put on one of the best rock shows I've seen in a while, probably since I saw Arcade Fire earlier this year, except this was far more intimate and lengthy.
If Wilco comes to your town, check them out. They're worth the trip. Here's a nice vid of the gang performing the jazzy "Impossible Germany" last year – excellent guitar showcase for Nels!
Saturday, March 15, 2008
Concert review: Iron & Wine, Auckland, March 14
March concert madness continued last night with the debut performance of Iron And Wine in New Zealand. Iron and Wine is led by Sam Beam -- kind of Nick Drake as if he were influenced by William Faulkner with a dash of Nick Cave and the Grateful Dead -- and he specializes in a hushed, gorgeous alt-folk blend that's often spellbinding. (You might have heard Iron and Wine's great cover of The Shins' "Such Great Heights" on the "Garden State" soundtrack.) Iron and Wine's latest, "The Shepherd's Dog", opens up from the mostly acoustic feel of their earlier work, incorporating multiple rhythms and drawing on elements of world music.
On this tour, Beam's crystalline vocals are backed up by a full band, including sister Sarah Beam on backup vocals. The band's MVP was the stunning steel and pedal guitar work by Calexico's Paul Niehaus -- his otherworldly tones leant a haunted wild-west vibe to it all. The show opened with the fantastic "Trapeze Swinger," in which Beam distills what feels like the whole history of man and God and devil and the fall into seven or so minutes of beautiful music. Beam's music is quiet, late-night meditation fare, but his lyrics are wonderfully dark and twisted, drawing on epic imagery of death, love and myth. Songs start with lyrics like "Papa died Sunday and I understood / All dead white boys say, 'God is good'" or deal with cheery topics like the Bible's Jezebel awaiting her death at the teeth of wild dogs. His lyrics, such as those for "The Trapeze Singer," read like hippie-Gothic poetry.
Unfortunately, the kinda rowdy Friday night pub crowd wasn't quite the best venue for Iron & Wine's hushed and intricate tunes. Beam is genial but very focused, looking like a liberal town college professor up there in his beard and sweater vest. The show is all about the music rather than banter, so sometimes I think there was a little disconnect with the crowd. I think the show might have played a bit better in a seated venue where drunk 20-somethings weren't jostling their mates. But heck, I just kept moving away from the annoying folk and grooved to the music.
Nevertheless, it was a swell concert, and here's a great live take on the show opener, "The Trapeze Swinger," from 2007:
