Crib Notes

by Joeff Davis 

Daniel Johnston performed Thursday night at the Variety Playhouse. He greeted the audience by telling a story of a dream he had about a man being sentenced to death for trying to commit suicide. “In the back of the courtroom the man was saying, ‘No, no, no,’” he said. “And that man was me.”

It seemed like a strange way to greet an audience, but it set the tone for his two sets of
depressingly uplifting and cathartic music.

“Basic purity” is how one audience member described it. But it felt terribly amateur at first. His guitar playing sounded simplistic and his singing (if you can call it that) painfully weird. But as the show progressed and his confidence grew, the lyrics he sang painted a stark truth. And the voice he sang in breathed a sincerity one rarely feels at concerts.

Johnston performed two sets. During the acoustic part of the show, he played a couple of songs alone on guitar before being joined by an acoustic guitarist. Throughout the set, his
tightly gripped fists shook at his waist as he spoke, read and sang his lyrics from a beat-up music stand. His songs were constantly punctuated by shouts of “We love you Danny!” from the audience, with members emotionally singing along.

“Where am I,” Johnston asked at one point. After being told he was in Atlanta by shouts from audience members, he replied: “Is that a state or a town?”

In the second half of the show, the opening band the Hymns joined him. The Hymns, a good looking band of hipsters who jumped around the stage with typical rock ‘n’ roll antics, formed a sharp contrast with Johnston who wore a stained gray t-shirt and black pants, and rarely opened his eyes to look at the audience.

“I love him because he has been through a lot and I can identify with that,” said one audience member during the break.

After returning for the encore, Johnston wished everybody a Merry Christmas and ended on a hopeful note singing “True Love Will Find You.”

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R.E.M. returned to its roots with supporting acts Modest Mouse and the Nationals to end its U.S. tour Saturday night at Lakewood Amphitheater.

Unfortunately, not much can be said about the underwhelming openers, a sentiment apparently shared by the attending masses. Modest Mouse performed with minimal enthusiasm for a modest crowd, a great many of whom didn’t bother finding their seats until R.E.M. began its set.

What followed, however, was an excellent show even for a casual fan (or someone familiar with the majority of R.E.M.’s hits, thanks to the group’s hourly inclusion on 99X since its primordium). Stipe and company had a commendable set list that managed well the fragile balance of crowd pleasers and new material. In contrast to Modest Mouse’s nearly agonizing show (featuring Issac Brock’s writhing ability to constantly appear mid-struggle in withholding escaping intensities), Stipe performed with the energy of a newcomer playing an arena for the first time, hamming it up to a highly receptive hometown crowd whilst rocking dance moves most often observed at MJQ on a Wednesday night.

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On Friday night, I had the chance to be reminded of all the reasons why I love Lizz Wright, who I profiled in this week’s issue in anticipation of last Friday’s performance at Center Stage. Wright, a Hahira native who attended Georgia State University and performed around town before moving on, is out touring on her third (and best) CD, The Orchard. But the performance also reminded me of the reasons why I believe the best is still yet to come for this 28-year-old marvel who often draws comparisons to Norah Jones (for better or worse).

Wright must be a delight to work with in the studio. It’s probably no coincidence that they now share the same producer, Craig Street, who seems to have a gift for matching vocalists with talented session musicians and songs to cover. And sure enough, The Orchard boasts some wonderful re-workings of everything from Ike & Tina Turner’s “I Idolize You” to Led Zeppelin’s “Thank You.” (Fans may also recall her brilliant reworking of the ’60s anthem, “Get Together,” actually titled “Everybody Get Together,” popularized by the Dave Clark Five.) Technically speaking, Wright is arguably as proficient as any alto out there, and that includes another to whom she’s compared, Cassandra Wilson. She can wring vibrato from the lowest, huskiest notes without every sounding flat or without resonance, and she almost never cheats on a note. She has an uncanny ability to fill her tones with the kind of warmth that make altos such a delight. And she almost never, ever tries to over-sell a song.

But in a weird way, this last strength in the studio seems to become a weakness when she performs live, because Wright tends to hold back in a way that leaves the audience wanting more. Now, take this as one cynic’s opinion; I’d argue a solid majority of the Center Stage audience would disagree with me. But from the moment she took the stage to her encore, Wright barely made an attempt to connect with her obviously appreciative audience, or to take a song to another level — beyond the studio version.

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R.E.M. bassist Mike Mills gave his honest assessment on Michael Stipe’s lyrics, and also talked about the band’s well-reviewed recent tour during a conversation with CL contributor, Ben Westhoff.

You’ve said before that you generally don’t ask Stipe about his lyrics. Do you sometimes feel like you don’t know exactly what he’s talking about?

There are occasions what I’m not exactly sure what he was thinking when he wrote the lyrics, but that doesn’t matter. The only important thing is that the songs give you a sense of passion, or some sort of image within your own mind. What Michael’s thinking is not always that important. And that’s not to diminish what his intent is with the lyrics in any way, I’m just saying that it’s the listener’s perception that’s most important.

THREE-HEADED MONSTER: Peter Buck (left to right), Michael Stipe and Mike Mills. R.E.M. performs w/Modest Mouse and the National this Sat., June 21. $35-$75. 6:30 p.m. Lakewood Amphitheatre, 2002 Lakewood Way. 404-443-5000. www.livenation.com.

Many songs on Accelerate seem fairly political. Does that make them easier to understand?

You know, I generally know what he’s talking about on almost every song. There may be one song per record where I don’t know where he’s coming from. But again it doesn’t matter, because as long as I get some sort of mental picture, it doesn’t have to be the same one he has. And, really, there’s only been one or two songs in the history of R.E.M. where I’ve ever actually felt like I needed to ask him what he was thinking. Usually I just take my own interpretation of it and I’m happy with that.

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HOT DIGGITY: A random Corndogorama flier spotted at Bonnaroo.

(Photo by Brooke Hatfield)

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Sunday

Overheard at Bonnaroo: “I should have done more mushrooms at prom.” — One of the perpetually stoned high school students camping next to me

Hygiene update: I smell better than a dead person, but worse than a chicken salad sandwich left out in the sun for an afternoon. I think my sweat and sunblock have formed an impenetrable layer that will protect me from both the sun and bullets. Apparently it is now de rigeur to bathe and shave one’s legs at Bonnaroo. I did not get the memo, so my legs are hairier than some of the men’s I’ve seen so far today. It can be hard to be this extreme.

The last day of a music festival is a tough one — the audience is too partied-out or sunburned or exhausted to embrace acts as fully as they could the day before. I definitely fell into that category, as I was still pretty beat from the night before (”KHAAAAAAAAAAAAAANYE!). Here’s what I saw:

Broken Social Scene
I was only able to catch a couple songs of their set, but I did hear this gem: “Put down the bong and vote for Obama / You know that you gotta / You know that you wanna.” (more…)

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Saturday

Overheard at Bonnaroo: “I never thought I would have to fight this hard to take a shit! I feel like an old black man in the ’70s!” — My moron neighbor who didn’t understand why his tent mates didn’t want him to poop next to their tent.

Important things I have slept through:

— A Weezer concert in 2000.
— A presentation in a womens’ studies class in 2001
— A tornado
— Pearl Jam, Sigur Ros and Chromeo at Bonnaroo 2008

Don’t hate me. I hate myself enough already. I blame Jack Johnson, whose laid-back tones led me to nap, thinking I would get up in a couple hours when Pearl Jam started. Then I woke up and it was 2:15 a.m., and well, there went that.

But don’t worry, I wasn’t the biggest asshole at Bonnaroo on Saturday night. Rightly or wrongly, that title went to Kanye West, who went on 8 hours late (his 8:15 p.m. set was rescheduled to 2:45 a.m. so that his “Glow in the Dark” tour would, you know, glow in the dark.) But more onn that in a bit. Here are some timelier musicians I saw on Saturday:

Sharon Jones and the Dap Kings: 100 Days, 100 Nights is a great album, but Sharon Jones and the Dap Kings are really in their element, live. Jones, who is a tiny lady in her early 50s, took off her shoes and earrings and did her idol and fellow Augusta native James Brown proud with her incredibly energetic antics onstage. She dances! She wails! And then they had to go and cover “What Have You Done For Me Lately.” Definitely one of the best shows I saw all weekend.

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Meet Matt.

When his Nana died, he got her Royal Air Force portrait tattooed on his arm.

His tattoo is so awesome that I am momentarily suspending the Douchebag tattoo of the day feature to highlight this pretty lady on her grandson’s arm.

(Photo taken Friday by Brooke Hatfield)
 

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Overheard at Bonnaroo: “Next time I see Ben, I’m going to punch him in the face.” — A disgruntled camper whose tent mate had apparently committed a punch-worthy offense.

Friday at Bonnaroo was glorious! I saw the best set I’ve seen so far! But then it started raining and poop mud emerged from every portable toilet. I saw several bands yesterday — and there were so many I wanted to see that I didn’t catch many full sets — so here are some wee tiny reviews:

Drive-By Truckers: Patterson Hood and Co. started Friday off right — their sound was strong, the crowd was really into it, and the band’s fierceness totally filled the enormous stage they played on.

Jose Gonzalez: His set was super-chill — he sat in a chair onstage, and many in the audience took a similar laid-back, lay-back-on-a-blanket mentality. And luckily for me, he closed with his cover of Massive Attack’s “Teardrop.”

Tegan and Sara: Although their set was plagued by technical issues — like several bands on Friday, actually — the banter between twins Tegan and Sara Quin won the audience over.

The Fiery Furnaces: Part of the beauty of Bonnaroo is that there is a diversity of venues. Huge acts like Pearl Jam and Willie Nelson obviously play huge stages, but several smaller stages offer a more intimate experience. The Fiery Furnaces played one of these smaller stages (after playing a much larger tent earlier in the day), and I thought their sound made an interesting transition in live performance. Live songs sounded rawer than the album versions, but still had a distinct proggy, experimental sound. Here’s the music video for their song “Tropical Iceland.”
Eleaor of the Fiery Furnaces

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Instead of going to see Jack Johnson tonight, I think I’m just going to watch the SNL video below and take a nap — Kanye had to go and reschedule his show for 2:45 a.m., and there’s no way I’m going to miss being his black Kate Moss tonight.

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VAMPIRE WEEKEND: From far away

Overheard at Bonnaroo: “Some guy in VIP was talking about how, like, he got to take free showers, and I was like ‘Well, I shower every four days anyway.’” — Girl behind me in line.

Day one of Bonnaroo started at 4 a.m. and ended at about 1 a.m., and the in-between times were filled with a healthy mix of music, sitting in a car and public urination.
Allow me to explain.

Once we actually got to Bonnaroo and got our tent set up (which only took about seven hours total — proof that God smiles on CL and all its endeavors), the first order of bidness was checking out the opening-day lineup. Superdrag was the first band I caught, which was strangely appropriate — between Metallica, Pearl Jam, Chris Rock and Janeane Garofalo, acts I liked in the 9th grade are making a big comeback at Bonnaroo this year.

I’m not as familiar with Superdrag’s new stuff, which they played a lot of (and which underwhelmed me, frankly), but anything off their 1996 release “Regretfully Yours” was absolute audio gold.

We skipped MGMT and most of Battles (who we heard the last part of while waiting in line, and it sounded awesome and I wish I could have been more adjacent to the stage) for two trips to the comedy tent, which was a hard decision, but one that paid off in two big ways:

1) The comedy tent was air-conditioned.

2) I saw a really drunk guy urinate on two rows of people in front of him. (more…)

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My life is hard.

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Maybe you have to be high or just extremely intoxicated to enjoy a Kenny Crucial performance. Unfortunately, I was neither of these things when I saw Mack Messiah at the Drunken Unicorn on Wednesday, May 21.

Despite his status as a local music icon, there was nothing profound or amazing about Crucial’s performance, and his attempts to be the intense rock star figure made him look insane, and not in a good, crazy rock and roll way. A heavy air of unease jostled everyone in the room. The typical hipsters were there, coolly sipping their PBR’s, only this time they were clutching them tightly with fear. Instead of dancing to the music they looked confused and uncomfortable, shifting from side to side, trying unsuccessfully to nod their heads to the Casio beat.

Looks of sheer disbelief and confusion spread throughout the room as Crucial resembled a deranged mole from the “Whac-a-Mole” game at Chuck E. Cheese … the one you’re supposed to bop with a mallet. Veins bulging and eyes wide, instead of popping out of a hole, he was popping up and down behind his music stand.

The music was not bad, and I actually enjoyed myself more when Crucial wasn’t screaming/singing. Their sound was a mutant hybrid of glam rock, psychedelic pop, and I would assume funk since one of the songs was titled “Funky Like Your Daddy.” It would have been fun and easy to dance to if everyone wasn’t so focused on Crucial, wondering what crazy thing he was going to do next. The saving grace of the performance was 18-year-old bass, keytar and omnicord player Monika Julien, who stood out even above the supposedly legendary Crucial. Julien met Crucial at the South by Southwest music conference in Austin. According to her, the two hit it off and soon began practicing together. Wednesday was the first time Julien had performed with Mack Messiah, but she has been a member of local experimental hardcore band When Rocky Beat the Russian for about a year now.

Fiercely hunched over while playing her omnichord, Julien was really into what she was doing and it was obvious through her prevailing sound and the modest smile on her face. Not modest at all, Crucial was really into what he was doing as well; however, he was obviously more into himself. Instead of a modest smile, he screamed at the audience and ended the show with his fists pumping in the air shouting, “Bow to me!”

Red faced and eyes full of rage, he no longer resembled the deranged but harmless Chuck E. Cheese mole. In fact, he suddenly looked more like the devil himself and after that little escapade, the band might best be served by calling itself Mack Lucifer.

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Today’s Air Loaf features CL’s Rodney Carmichael and WMLB-AM’s Max Arbes discussing this year’s music issue — dropping today!

Air Loaf is broadcast weekdays on 1690 WMLB-AM at approximately 8:10 a.m., 12:20 p.m. and 6:20 p.m.

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TIMES NEW VIKING: Who needs a keyboard stand when you’ve got a bucket of paint and a box of vinyl records? (All photos by Chad Radford.)

From the days of Pere Ubu and Devo on through Brainiac and Guided By Voices, middle Ohio has long been a fertile breeding ground for skewed hybrids of art-damaged punk and pop sounds.

Two trios from Columbus, Oh., Psychedelic Horseshit and Times New Viking passed through town last night to uphold the Buckeye state’s tradition at Eyedrum. After opening sets from Atlanta acts Tree Creature and Gold Painted Nails, as well as Sydney, Australia-based duo Naked On the Vague, Psychedelic Horseshit played a ramshackle set with drums and keyboards balanced on paint-splattered buckets.

On record, both Psychedelic Horseshit and Times New Viking shroud their respectively short, lobbed songwriting in a haze of lo-fi fuzz. At Eyedrum, the noise factor was an equalizer that served as a booster for both bands’ secretly catchy melodies.

Most notable was the transformation that came over TNV. The group’s recently released third full-length (and first for Matador Records), titled Rip It Off, sounds like it was recorded on a boom box. But when played live, the scratchy fidelity of each song melts away to reveal a wealth of rapid fire drumming and immediately catchy hooks.

The album is by no means a hard sell, but live the songs are propulsive, fun and much more compelling.

PSYCHEDELIC HORSESHIT

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(Ryan Androus)

Record sleeves aren’t just about packaging, but impact. When done right, they can propel a band to another level. Mark Naumann, who has run local DIY output Die Slaughterhaus Records since 2001, shares his top five DSH record sleeves.

Continue reading Real Life. 

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Thank you to everyone who participated in our first and last annual Gordon Lightfoot Singing Contest.

The response was overwhelming.

OK, maybe overwhelming isn’t the word. It was whelming. Six people participating — seven if you count the backing vocalist on the last call.

Click here to listen to five CL readers and two CL staffers singing the songs of Gordon Lightfoot.

I’m not sure who’s getting the tickets. I called three winners, but none have called me back yet. My great-grandfather used to tell me, “Andisheh, never trust a fan of Canadian folk-rock.” I finally know what he meant.

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It’s no huge secret that the best jazz is usually found in intimate settings.

The romantic ideal — finding a burning tenor player at 2 in the morning in a smoky, hole-in-the-wall jazz club, whose playing transcends mere notes and rhythms — may well be the best way to hear jazz, but the music has also flourished in concert halls, university venues and outdoor festivals. Plenty of inspired moments have been heard in these larger arenas, and pianist Benny Green and saxophonist James Moody have both been awe-inspiring when performing in a football stadium in Idaho.

The musicians were joined by singer Nnenna Freelon, trumpeter Terence Blanchard, bass player Derrick Hodge and drummer Kendrick Scott Friday at Symphony Hall for a tour celebrating 50 years of the Monterey Jazz Festival.

Unfortunately for the musicians, something seemed cold about the room, and none of them were quite able to piece together snippets of inspiration into a cohesive set.

The octogenarian Moody, with ample comic support from Green, launched into his puckish singing routine “Benny’s From Heaven,” to uproarious applause. And Hodge joined Freelon for a delicate and swinging duet on “Skylark,” but these moments were too few. Blanchard closed the concert with readings from his Grammy-winning rumination on New Orleans.

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YOUNG, BLACK AND WEIRD: Hollyweerd rocks the Drunken Unicorn.

(Photos by Hannibal M.)

“We on some black hipster shit in here!” announced Wil May, host for the hip-hop showcase “Perfect Attendance.” Yes, it’s true: Atlanta’s black hipsters are back and in full force. For the past several months, they’ve been organizing concerts and parties with the fervor of punk rock bands. Rarely a week goes by without a show featuring either Proton, Gripplyaz or Hollyweerd. Typically, all three were on the Perfect Attendance lineup.

Perfect Attendance was held at the Drunken Unicorn Friday, Feb. 8. It was presented by Fadia Kader’s Come Up Kids crew, and much of the two-hour showcase featured Jaspects as both lead performer and backing band. Several of the scene’s players were either performing or were in the audience, including Battery 5, Kid Kaos and others. Perfect Attendance was just the latest of dozens of events seeking to inflate the ATL hip-hop buzz to record levels, but it was as good an opportunity as any to see what the hype was all about.

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DJ KLEVER (LEFT) AND TITTSWORTH: Don’t stop believin’.

(photos copyright the Midnight Socialite)

After turning the Royal from a second-string contestant for celebrity photo-ops into a favored hangout for Atlanta’s ’80s babies, Sloppy Seconds has moved to MJQ, and will now happen there the second Saturday of every month. Last Saturday, Dec. 8, event svengali Caleb Gauge brought his star client, DJ Klever (whom he manages), and Washington, D.C.’s Tittsworth for the first installment. The two turntablists party rocked on four Serato-powered turntables, and flew from Journey’s “Don’t Stop Believin’” to Three 6 Mafia’s “Stay Fly.”

Freelance party photographer the Midnight Socialite, whom Rodney Carmichael spoke to for CL’s Oct. 4 issue, took a few photos of the party. Check out the flicks below, and then visit the Midnight Socialite’s website for an extended look at his work.

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