Tampa Calling

Could it win the Pearl Jam frontman an Oscar?

From Billboard.com:

There’s no dates or venues yet, but Radiohead has confirmed the cities for its North American summer tour. The first leg will come prior to the band’s summer European jaunt, which begins June 6 in Dublin, while the second leg will start after the European dates end July 8 in Berlin.

Tampa is listed along with Miami and Atlanta.

Help me out here, but to the best of my knowledge this show will mark Radiohead’s Tampa Bay debut, right?

Anyone care to submit an ultimate setlist?

Annual Wild Splash concert relocating from Clearwater to Tampa, reports TampaBay.com. Mayor of Scientology Town, U.S.A., apparently prefers freaks toting E-meters and the complete removal of downtown nightlife to “brief nudity.”

Although the concert drew big, exuberant crowds, some city officials were upset with the foul language they heard and the brief nudity they saw, mostly from flashers. Raucous behavior also was a problem with the Next Big Thing.

“I always had a problem with some of the impact of the concert, because of some of the incidents that occurred, so I’m not sorry to see that go,” Clearwater Mayor Frank Hibbard said today. “We want to have diversity in our entertainment, but at the same time we don’t want the negative impact it brought. I’m not going to lose any sleep over it.”

So, exactly what entertainment is left these days in downtown Clearwater? Other than, y’know, waiting outside the Fort Harrison for a glimpse of Tom-Kat and their lil,’ soon-to-be-indoctrinated, offspring Suri?

A rowdy roots-rock outfit led by one of the most expressive singers and gifted lyricists of his generation, the Springsteenian Craig Finn leads his band The Hold Steady through an impassioned reading of “Killer Parties” in this audience video clip from a packed Philly show last October, which finds jubilant concertgoers peacefully rejoicing alongside the musicians on stage.

The closing track off the band’s excellent 2004 debut album The Hold Steady Almost Killed Me, “Killer Parties” includes the now-legendary-around-these-parts line: “Ybor city is tres speedy but they throw such killer parties.”

The Hold Steady headlines Skatepark of Tampa’s 15th Anniversary Party Jan. 19 at Czar Bar in Ybor City.

Just got a press release — via the U.S. Mail!, on real paper — announcing the lineup for the Tampa Bay Blues Festival. It’s a roll-call of familiar names and a few surprises (as usual). No time for commentary right now, but here’s the facts:

Friday, April 11

12:30-2 p.m. — Billy Gibson
2:30-4 p.m. — Nick Moss and the Flip Tops
4:30-6 p.m. — Lucky Peterson
6:30-8 p.m. — James Hunter
8:30-10 p.m. — Robert Cray Band

Saturday, April 12

1-2 p.m. — Trombone Shorty
2:30-4 p.m. — Tutu Jones
4:30-6 p.m. — Tab Benoit
630-8 p.m. — Walter Trout
8:30-10 p.m. — Los Lonely Boys

Sunday, April 13

12:30-2 p.m. — Tad Robinson
2:30-4 p.m. — Chris Cain
4:30-6 p.m. — Janiva Magness
6:30-8 p.m. — Rod Piazza and the Might Flyers
8:30-10 p.m. — Robben Ford

As always, the Blues Fest takes place at Vinyo Park in St. Pete. Bluesheads out there — whaddya think of the lineup?

There was quite a bit of chatter in my living room about 15 minutes before the BCS Championship Game kicked off last night. Suddenly, the TV caught my attention: A swarthy John Waters look-alike — with spiked, shoe-polish black hair — was butchering the National Anthem.

I’ve seen a lot of games, and I’ve seen a lot of National Anthems. I’ve never seen a worse rendition in a big game with a huge national audience.

The perpetrator was named Clint Maedgen. He’s a New Orleans jack-of-all-trades type who fronts a wacky cabaret-style act called the Bingo Show!. He’s been a guest singer for the Preservation Hall Jazz Band for three years, and he does his own rock material. Even sings some gospel, but not well.

I get that the organizers of the bowl game, played at the Louisiana Superdome, wanted to present the “Star-Spangled Banner” with some local flair. Better than an American Idol retread. And to that end, they had a few fellas from the Preservation Hall band backing Maedgen up. But, despite being from the Crescent City, Maedgen’s singing is not representative of its music or culture. His voice is thin and reedy, with limited range, and lacks innate soulfulness.

The crucial moment in any National Anthem performance is that “the la-and of the freeeee” part, where the singer has to really reach to hit that long, high note. Some do so with easy aplomb, others with rousing passion that prompts a cheer from the crowd, some add silly frills that annoy me. Still others reach that spot and can’t hit the note, so they go into some melismatic spazz-out or overblown wail. That’s what our boy Clint did.

Hey, he scored a good gig, but was in over his head.

I can say from second-hand experience that singing the national anthem in a stadium is some really difficult stuff. Several years ago, a newly signed pop singer, her name long forgotten by me and just about anyone else, was tapped to sing the anthem at a Monday night Bucs game. I stood next to her as she sound-checked and close by as she performed to the packed Tampa Stadium.

Forget that the anthem’s clumsy melody makes it a horribly tough tune to sing — the slap-back echo was brutal. You know when you get that echo on the phone and can barely keep the conversation together? Imagine that times 10 and upping the stakes by a thousand. As I remember, the young woman did pretty well, and without fancy mini-monitors in her ears. She did look a little shook up afterward, though.

So I won’t beat up on poor Cliff anymore.

But before I sign off, let me turn you on to my favorite rendition of the National Anthem. That would be Marvin Gaye at the 1983 NBA All-Star Game. All he did was radically overhaul, and improve, the country’s patriotic signature song by reworking the melody into his inimitable style (without disrespecting the original) and performing it over an undulating mid-tempo funk beat from a lone drum machine.

He caressed the lyrics, infusing them with new meaning, new feeling. The crowd was mesmerized, and little pockets of cheers and squeals rang throughout the performance, followed by a thunderous ovation at the end.

And when he hit that “land of the free” part, he sailed right through it.

Clip of the Soul Rebels performing at Les Bon Temps Roule in New Orleans.

01/08 UPDATE: Soul Rebels to perform in Ybor City at WMNF’s Tropical Heatwave May 17.

It’s 2:30 p.m. in New Orleans and I’m chomping on a gloriously huge muffuletta, the perfect antidote for a monster night in the Crescent City. My brother Joel has relocated here, renting a duplex in Uptown with his buddy/bassist Tommy and Chandler, Tommy’s pal from their days at Loyola. I bought the tasty sandwich from one of the numerous family-run deli/grocery/liquor stores that are within short walking distance of my bro’s place.

The hangover I’m battling came from an evening that started yesterday around 10:30 p.m. at the nearby Maple Leaf. The venue regularly features the city’s best bands with Papa Grows Funk playing every Monday. It’s also the place where piano great James Booker performed weekly before his death in 1983.

The trio we caught at the Leaf was led by Booker’s old drummer, venerable New Orleans vet Johnny Vidacovich. Joining him were a keyboardist and sax man. The crowd was sparse and the three men on stage were out there — improvising with disregard for the groove (and the audience). The horn player proved most impressive, his Ornette Coleman-informed pyrotechnics drawing me to the lip of the stage. It was also pretty cool to see the keyboardist bust out a talking drum for a couple numbers.

After soaking up a bit of Avant-garde jazz we headed over to another Uptown nightlife fave, Les Bon Temps Roule, an excellent bar/restaurant/live music venue where the Soul Rebels bring their unstoppable brand of big brass, funk and hip-hop every Thursday. Unfortunately, by the time we got there, the back room where the stage is located was so packed all I could see of the band and their horns was the top of a tuba. The Soul Rebels sounded great, though, keeping asses shaking with numbers like a roaring reworking of Bobby McFerrin’s novelty hit “Don’t Worry, Be Happy.” The space eventually got too packed for comfort and we met with a couple girls and lounged in Les Bon Temp’s less crowded front room, where the jukebox blared a great rock mix ranging from The Clash to The Boss.

We finally called it a night around 3:30, pretty early considering the last time I visited Les Bon Temps was during Jazz Fest 2006. Big Sam’s Funky Nation played a similar style of Big Easy brass madness as the Soul Rebels, keeping everyone at the club dancing and “getting low” (every single person crouched down and rose at the band leader’s command) until 6 a.m., when Big Sam finally ran out of steam.

Incidentally, prior to driving with my brother to New Orleans on last Wednesday morning, we caught Crescenty City star Trombone Shorty usher in the New Year at WMNF’s big bash at the Coliseum in St. Petersburg. The 21-year-old trombonist/trumpeter/singer/rapper turned in a performance every bit as enthralling as the one he delivered last year at Heatwave.

Here’s my Creative Loafing cover story interview with The Dresden Dolls and my latest Bar Tab, The Big Bounce.