Though not heavily attended, the crowd of mostly die-hard fans were packed tight under the red and white striped tent at Jannus Landing on Fri., Oct. 24. The Faint lead singer Todd Fink was wearing what looked to be a Calvin Klein designed lab coat with WWII aviator goggles. That turned out to be fitting. The Nebraskan quintet creates a music experiment that sits on the cusp of dance party and indie noise-rock — stylish, but never letting you get too comfortable. It works.
After a lively opening number, The Faint went into “Glass Danse” followed by “Take Me to the Hospital,” a song not found on any album, but with enough deep bass and chopped beats to get all those under the tent shaking ass. One fan was overheard saying, “These indie rock kids better have their Chucks tied tight, or they’re going to get funked right out of em.’” Pretty spot on, I thought. Mixing songs from its newest album, Fasciinatiion, along with older tracks — “Forever Growing Centipedes,” “Posed to Death,” “Psycho” — The Faint kept the energy elevated. A short, but solid set left most of the hipsters craving more.
I immediately go into fanboy mode when a new Dylan “Bootleg Series” entry such as Tell Tale Signs (or album proper) drops. Then, after devouring the fresh product, I start rifling through my piles of genuine bootlegs because, like any Dylan junkie, once you’ve tasted the forbidden fruit, you just can’t get enough.
I’ve compiled a list and decided to write about some of my favorite Dylan rare and unreleased cuts. In part, to justify all the hours/money I’ve spent over the years, especially my college years, gathering all these gems. Not sure how often these entries will pop up, probably a couple per month. Most likely on slow music news day, like today. Here ya go:
“If You See Her, Say Hello” (live; alternate lyrics) 4/18/1976, from the bootleg Acoustic Thunder
This is the meanest I have ever heard Dylan. Recorded at the Lakeland Civic Center during the messy end of the famed Rolling Thunder Revue Tour, it finds a feisty Bobcat performing solo with acoustic guitar and harmonica, recasting a once gentle, Blood on the Tracks goodbye-to-his wife number as a vicious screed. Almost every line is rewritten and laced with deadly venom.
“If you see her, say hello, she might be in North San Juan,” Dylan snarls on the opening line. “She left here in a hurry, I don’t know what she was on.”
His bitterness, with borderlines on hatred, grows with each verse.
“If you’re making love to her, watch it from the rear, you never know when I’ll be back or liable to appear,” he threatens. “For it’s as natural to dream of peace as it is for rules to break, and right now I ain’t got much to lose, so you better stay away.”
The most crushing lines arrive at the end: “My head can’t understand no more what my heart don’t tolerate/Well, she’ll be back someday, of that there is no doubt/And when that moment comes, Lord, give me the strength to keep her out.”
A far cry from the original performance/lyrics. Gripping stuff. If you can stomach it.
It was with mixed emotions that I pulled the new Rolling Stone magazine from my mailbox on Thursday. On one hand, it pleased me to see Barack Obama’s smiling face on the cover. On the other, it saddened me to see the mag, the one I have read more often than any other during my lifetime, had shrunk. The larger format had stood for four decades. I have a hard time throwing away periodicals and have boxes of the large format RS’s dating back to last decade tucked away in my closet. On slow nights, I still peruse them.
“The adoption of a standard format could boost single-copy sales and reduce production costs for advertising inserts such as scent strips and tear-out postcards,” reports the AP (which also offers comparative pics of the old and new formats). “The magazine says any cost savings, though, will be offset by the inclusion of more pages and the shift to thicker, glossier paper.”
Rolling Stone boss man and founder devoted a page to explaining the move.
Neil Diamond mocked Father Time and dazzled tonight at the St. Pete Times Forum in Tampa. The 67-year-old crooner threw himself into every self-penned lyric, turning decades-old chestnuts into in-the-moment jolts of emotion that rocked a crowd of 13,000-plus — myself included.
Yeah, he had a band that numbered more than a dozen but they augmented rather than cushioned Diamond, who was in astonishingly strong voice throughout the 90-minute set. Sure, some of his songs are as sentimental as a greeting card salutation — but they’re his words, as in he wrote ‘em, a rarity among crooners — and he sings each one with the passion of a true believer, closing his eyes, flailing his arms, making you believe. It might be histrionics, it might, but if so, Diamond is one of the greatest actors alive.
The Jewish Elvis crushed with time-tested gems like “Cherry, Cherry,” “I Am…I Said” and “Sweet Caroline,” the latter of which inspired a sing along/love-in that surely was worth the price of admission for thousands. But Diamond also stirred the crowd with newer material like the song “Hell Yeah,” from his Rick Rubin-produced 2004 album 12 Songs. A showman, an ace songwriter, Diamond may have never been hip, but the man sure knows how to show folks a good time. It’s something he has been doing for four decades, and damn, you can never have enough of that. Especially these days.
Few songs inspire sing-alongs like Neil Diamond’s 1969 classic “Sweet Caroline.” And I have every intention of gleefully crooning along with thousands of others when he performs the pop gem tonight at the St. Pete Times Forum.Yeah, I’m a big Diamond fan and super stoked about tonight! (By the way, look for my review to be posted here shortly after the show wraps.)
Smirk if you must, but “Sweet Caroline,” like the national anthem, never gets old. During our college years, my friends and I would routinely get wasted at O’Brien’s Pub on N. Dale Mabry in Tampa. On the weekends, there was usually a cover band on stage, or just a dude with a guitar, and “Sweet Caroline” always got requested and played. To a person, everyone in the room would raise their glasses and belt out the lyrics at the top of their lungs. Especially after a couple rounds of Irish Car Bombs. Good times. Damn, good times.
This scene posted below from the 1996 Ted Demme film Beautiful Girls — one of my all-time faves, by the way — perfectly captures the blissful feeling of singing “Sweet Caroline” with friends at a pub after a round of shots.
The next seven days promise a shit-ton of killer concerts starting tonight with former Guns ‘N Roses guitarist Buckethead at The Garage and Los Lonely Boys at Jannus Landing. I’m super stoked about going to see Neil Diamond at the St. Pete Times Forum tomorrow.
I have always liked the Jewish Elvis and his recent Rick Rubin-produced albums have only increased my appreciation of the man. Something tells me St. Pete Times Pop Music Critic Sean Daly and I will be singing along up in the press box and, if I’ve had too much to drink and he lets me, embracing when it comes time for “Sweet Caroline.”
Anyway, the next seven days also find The Faint, Tampa’s own Jarvik 7, Ben Kweller, City of Ships and many more quality acts playing our local venues.
London-born, San Francisco-based Sylvie Simmons is a famous rock journalist/critic best known for her work in MOJO magazine, regularly contributing to The Guardian and interviewing everyone from Jagger to Beck to Ozzy to Cash. Simmons, who published the acclaimed short story collection Too Weird for Ziggy in 2004, is also a big fan of Tampa’s own Ronny Elliott and has seen him perform at Skipper’s Smokehouse. When I sat down to have dinner with them before Elliott’s gig she made fun of me for ordering a Newcastle. “That’s what the old people in North England drink,” she scolded.
I was honored to be criticized by Sylvie Simmons.
Simmons’ latest endeavor is launching a Million Ukulele March. Which might be the coolest thing she has done — ever. And that’s saying quite a bit considering this is a woman pictured below interviewing Tom Waits! Because, really, who thinks of something like a virtual ukulele rally? Click here to join her uke brigade on MySpace and to hear Simmons perform the “Million Ukulele March” theme song (or go to the homepage linked to above). Here are the words if ya wanna sing along.
“The Million Uke March” (Key of F)
(Sylvie Simmons)
Raise your ukes for Obama
Pluck ‘em for the USA
And while you are strumming
A new day is coming
To wash the Republi-cons away
We all know McCain ain’t Mc Able
To organise a party in a bar
If you want your country back
You gotta vote for Barrack
Obama for America
Yes you and your mama
Go and vote for Obama
Obama for America!
Considering the sunshine theme of the nickname, the songs should speak to the big yellow ball in the sky, warmth, heat, light, etc. Like Sal, I also agree the tunes should be known by most folks. With that criteria in mind, which I totally ripped from my pal Sal, here are my picks:
Top 10: Songs to be played at The Trop
1. Heatwave, Martha Reeves & The Vandellas
2. Sunshine of Your Love, Cream
3. The Heat Is On, Glenn Frey
4. Good Day Sunshine, The Beatles
5. Hot in the City, Billy Idol
6. Skies on Fire, AC/DC (it’s new but it’s still vintage AC/DC, which means it sounds like half their past hits)
Oh, the wonderfully weird stuff that lands in my mailbox. In the book Time Flies When You’re in a Coma, author Mike Daly harvest heavy metal-mocking laughs from actual lyrics – which, as anyone who has ever listened to Judas Priest, Iron Maiden, etc. already knows – are some of the hilariously worst ever committed to record.
The book, about he size of a double-CD, and destine for my coffee table, is divided into “meditations,” “Zen questions,” “daily affirmations” and “words of wisdom.”
AC/DC, at its best, makes you feel like championing fun: be it via booze, blow, high-speed driving or three-way fucking. On Black Ice, the Aussie outfit reclaims its status as king of good times. The band is back swinging — heavy and hard — in a way that percolates the pelvic region and vaporizes inhibitions.
The disc erupts on Track 1 with the refreshingly ferocious “Rock ‘N Roll Train,” which, with its killer Angus Young guitar riff, assured Brian Johnson-doing-Bon-Scott-shriek and sing along chorus, would sit well next to the best of Highway to Hell or Back in Black cuts — no small feat, for sure.
Much more for the better than the worse, the band follows the same time-honored, terrifically predictable formula for the rest of the record. There is one exception, toward the end of the full-length. Angus busts out some savage slide playing on “Stormy May Day” that’s straight from the Jimmy Page playbook.
Unoriginal? Yeah. Maybe. So? What fool decided it necessary to complicate a style of music named after screwing? AC/DC may be the smartest rock band of all time — they figured out what moves people and stuck with it. And that, like fucking, is what life is all about. 4 (out of 5) stars.
Alt-country queen Lucinda Williams lost her way for a while there. More specifically, she misplaced her mojo, her sass, her joy. After climaxing with the1998 commercial breakthrough Car Wheels on A Gravel Road, Williams detoured down a path of sorrow until dead-ending into the rote despair of last year’s West. The Louisiana-native finds her feisty muse on the satisfying libido-at-large Little Honey (Lost Highway) its very title a wonderfully base reference to man sugar.
The album, though, is by no means a honky-tonk take on the tacky Madonna game of menopause horniness – Williams is too damn wise for that high-risk routine. The record is as much about finding a good-time guy, and true love, whatever that is, as it is about being left in the dust by another modern-day drifter.
For too many albums, the singer/songwriter groaned and warbled about being alone over melting steel guitars rather than plugging in and rocking a barn-burning kiss-off like “Changed the Locks,” from her highly underrated self-titled 1988 album. On Little Honey, Williams strikes the fierce balance that made that disc, 1992’s Sweet Old World and 1998’s Car Wheels a holy trinity of alt-country releases.
Credit Dolly Parton for being one of the few humans alive who can bridge the gap between Democrats and Republicans, grandmothers and daughters, good ol’ boys and gay boys. All were in attendance Monday night at Ruth Eckerd Hall in Clearwater. Parton performed her hits and the same timeworn comedy routines she’s done for decades. The stories— like the one about her admiring the town whore and saying she wanted to grow up to be what her momma deemed “trash” — often lasted longer than the actual songs.
The diverse crowd, though, gobbled it up like it was cotton candy, laughing at every one of Parton’s Poconos-worthy routines. The iconic 62-year-old Country Queen — decked out in a sequined dress that kept her most famous attributes at chin-level throughout the evening — poked fun at her boobs, wig and fruit fly status, even bringing up a strapping young man in nothing much more than tight-fitting overalls. “Eat your heart out girls,” Parton cracked, “and some of you guys.”
I’m usually irked at this kind of shit, especially since my advance piece for the show already went to print for the edition that hits newsstands Wednesday.
It was a long, rough weekend and I have the scars to prove it. It all started last Friday with a four-beer lunch at The Bungalow in SoHo, followed by a trip to the Courtney Campbell Causeway where I joined coworkers (and a cheap ass) for too many mojitos (and a $260 tab!) at Oyster Catchers. Next came too many beers at Whiskey’s Joe’s. Finally, wine was consumed back at my apartment because, y’know, what’s a good night of imbibing if you don’t hit at least three of the major liquid food groups?
Those wounds I refer to in the first sentence? They’re on my forehead. Scraped my big head against the bottom of a pool while trying to do a handstand. Twice. Yeah, I took a dip late Saturday after Creative Loafing’s terrifically hedonistic Beer Fest, held in downtown St. Pete at Jannus Landing.That’s CL publisher Sharry Smith standing next to me. She didn’t join us for the swim. Thank gawd. There are some things your boss just really shouldn’t witness — no matter how cool she is about the off-the-clock shenanigans of her “alternative newspaper” employees.
It’s an awesomely balmy Friday afternoon. I’m seated on the patio of new SoHo hotspot The Bungalow (pictured). I’m sipping on a Bud, noshing on a killer B.L.T and some deliciously crunchy fries.
A Buffett saloon song I dig called “Bama Breeze.” just gave way to the reggae classic “Rivers of Babylon.” Screw the office or my apartment, this is the way to blog.
Tampa Bay’s awesomely stuck-in-the-1960s community radio station WMNF has been honoring flower power titans like The Beatles, Dylan and The Doors for years by having local bands cover their songs at the Skipperdome.
The latest artists to get the interpretation treatment is superior singer/songwriter Joni Mitchell.
Here’s the info. The wonderfully estrogen-intensive lineup appears after the jump.
WMNF Presents: You Turn me on I’m a Radio: a Tribute to Joni Mitchell
WHEN: Saturday, November 1st, 6pm-Midnight
WHAT: 14 bands/solo performers do their versions of Joni Mitchell songs
WHERE: Skipper’s Smokehouse, 910 Skipper Road (at Nebraska), Tampa
One of the world’s most important record labels celebrates its 50th anniversary with the 10-disc box Motown: The Complete No. 1’s, due Dec. 9., reports Billboard.com. It’s probably more Motown than most need but if you can swing it, I highly recommend splurging.
In July, I gratefully received the 10-disc, Time Life Motown Collection (my review ran here). The box sits on a special shelf in my living room and has enjoyed regular play ever since I brought it home. Because there’s nothing like some Stevie Wonder, Four Tops, Supremes, Miracles or Temptations to lift your spirits after a shitty day — and, boy, there have been too damn many of those lately. Anyway, today’s pressing question is: “What are the 10 greatest Motown songs of all time?” Here’s my tally.
Top 10 Motown Songs
1. What’s Going On, Marvin Gaye
2. The Tracks of My Tears, The Miracles
3. Superstition, Stevie Wonder
4. Papa Was a Rollin’ Stone, The Temptations
5. Ain’t No Mountain High Enough, Marvin Gaye & Tammi Terrell
6. Nowhere to Run, Martha & The Vandellas
7. Standing in the Shadows of Love, The Four Tops
8. Reflections, Diana Ross & The Supremes
9. Super Freak (Part 1), Rick James
10. What Becomes of the Brokenhearted, Jimmy Ruffin
Madonna and Guy Ritchie are done. I can think of quite a few reasons why the British film director should’ve left the fading pop star long, long ago. Here are 10.The Material Girl performs Nov. 26 at Dolphin Stadium, Miami. Read Leilani’s blurb in Upcoming Concerts.
Top 10 Reasons Why Guy Ritchie Should Leave Madonna
Alt-country queen Lucinda Williams has finally regained her mojo on Little Honey, the singer/songwriter’s sunniest and hardest rocking disc since her 1998 masterpiece Car Wheels on a Gravel Road. Little Honey, which I blogged about here, came out today on Lost Highway and I just received my review copy via this afternoon’s mail so I haven’t had time to properly digest it — but expect a full, glowing review in the near future.
The album includes 12 mostly killer originals including the Amy Winehouse ode (kinda) “Little Rock Star,” the rollicking opener “Real Love,” the sex-crazed “Honey Bee” and the tear-inducing “If Wishes Were Horses.” The wild card in the bunch is the closing cover. Williams and her ace Buick 6 band rip through the AC/DC classic “It’s a Long way to the Top (If You Wanna Rock ‘n’ Roll),” making a great album even better.
“It’s a Long Way to the Top” (live), Lucinda Williams
She still can’t sing. But that’s not why we started lusting after her in the first place. And lust, naughty lust, has been the linchpin of Spears‘ success ever since she Lolita-d it up in that schoolgirl outfit.
Like most hetro men, I’ve had a guilt-causing thing for Spears since Day 1. It went away during her head-shaving-wackiness phase. But, now, good gawd, it has struck again.
Spears brings sexy back — big time — in the video for her new single “Womanizer.” Yeah, those old feeling for her have returned, full force, and it’s scary. After that less than flattering shot of her exposed hoo-ha you’d think I’d be over her. But I’m not. It’s sad. The girl turns me on: kids, craziness, free-roaming crotch and all.
By the way, the song is pretty catchy. Nothing special, but catchy. Like a good commercial jingle.
“Womanizer,” Britney Spears (10/17 Update: Embedding disabled. Here’s the link.)
Live Nation presents
An Evening with David Byrne
Songs of David Byrne & Brian Eno
Friday, December 12, 2008 at 8pm
$66, $46 and $36
On Sale Saturday, October 18 at 10am at Ticketmaster outlets, www.tampatheatre.org, www.ticketmaster.com, 813-287-8844. Tampa Theatre Box Office Ticketmaster hours are Mon-Fri 10am-5pm).
More than a decade after its conception, Guns N’ Roses‘ Chinese Democracy will finally see the light of day before year’s end, sources close to the situation confirm to Billboard. As first reported here, the set will be a Best Buy exclusive and will be available Sunday, Nov. 23, rather than the usual Tuesday.
To be honest, the tracks I’ve heard leaked online aren’t that impressive. But, like millions others, I am curious to hear what Axl has cooked up over the past decade. Shit, I’ve been reading rumors about that damn Chinese Democracy thing all through my 20s. What a waste, eh?
Also included is the Matt Butcher/Will Quinlan/Win Win Winter/Ronny Elliott gig at New World Brewery on Saturday (see poster). Unfortunately, I fucked up and listed it as being on Friday in the print edition. Sorry, folks.
I’m not the biggest Flaming Lips fan in the world. Or even here at Creative Loafing, where my coworkes Joe Bardi, Leilani Polk and Eric Snider all outrank me in the affection for the fun loving space rockers category.
But frontman Wayne Coyne has always struck me as a cool dude. And after reading this feature in the New York Times, which ran in the Home & Garden section, I’ve decided he has the raddest pad in rock ‘n’ roll.
Mr. Coyne’s main residence is a two-story, red-brick structure with a stone gargoyle on the roof. But he has also, over the years, acquired the three houses behind it, one of which has been painted purple and converted into storage space, while the others have been turned into guesthouses. The vacant lots on either side of the main house belong to him as well. In Flaming Lips circles, the ever-expanding property is known simply as the compound.
“It’s our firewall,” Mr. Coyne said, standing under a pecan tree in the fenced-in courtyard surrounded by the houses. “It staves off the crack dealers.”
I’ve always felt the same way about The Eagles as The Dude. Too slick, too souless, too predictable. Other than Joe Walsh, I pretty much despise all of ‘em, especially that blowhard Don Henley.
However, I realize there are a couple people on the planet, and in Tampa Bay, who absolutely fucking love the Eagles and will be jazzed about learning the band is playing the St. Pete Times Forum Jan. 29. So much so, they’ll be willing to shell out such high prices for tickets that the amount isn’t even on the goddamn press release, which I have included in its entirety after the jump.
Is Mastodon, which I witnessed rock the State Theatre last year, fixing to pull a Metallica circa 1991? That’s what Rolling Stone is reporting, sorta, in the new issue. The Atlanta metal band’s upcoming album is being produced by Brendan O’Brien (Bruce Springsteen, Pearl Jam). “We wanted to make something a little broader,” says drummer Brann Dailor. “A classic-rock-sounding record.”
The reason for the more mellow (by metal standards) vibe? Guitarist/vocalist Brent Hinds’ head injury resulting from a boozy brawl following the MTV VMAs in September 2007.
O’Brien brought a relaxed vibe to the studio and helped flesh out the album’s classic-rock heart. “Quintessence” adds spacey washes of synthesizers and vocal harmonies to the brawny riffs and piercing guitar lines. The thrashing “Divinations” comes on like Master of Puppets-era Metallica, only with soaring vocals and a bright chorus, and “Oblivion” inserts a bluesy guitar solo into a sinister, multitempo, prog-metal epic.
Editor’s note: This review is by William McKeen, Professor and Chair, University of Florida Department of Journalism. He is also the author of Rock and Roll Is Here to Stay, Highway 61 and Bob Dylan: A Bio-Bibliography. McKeen discusses his latest book, Outlaw Journalist: The Life and Times of Hunter S. Thompson, in this CL cover story.
Bootlegging started because of Bob Dylan. During his post-motorcycle-accident seclusion in 1966-67, he recorded home demos and sent them to his music publisher, hoping other artists would record the songs and bring some income into the growing Dylan household.
But bootleggers got hold of the tapes and The Great White Wonder was such widely available contraband that Rolling Stone reviewed it. Dylan eventually gave in, releasing The Basement Tapes in 1975, and seven volumes of “official bootlegs” in the years since. These collections mostly featured live performances, but in Tell Tale Signs, the eighth volume in the series, Dylan re-examines his AARP years.
The eighth entry in Bob Dylan’s acclaimed “bootleg series,” the double disc Tell Tale Signs,which I wrote about here, dropped today and it has me thoroughly charmed. Covering mostly the singer/songwriter’s 1989-2005 comeback years, the collection is rich with alternate versions and outtakes from albums like Oh Mercy and Time Out of Mind.
There are still numerous gems stashed away in the vaults, though, many of which are in my geeky Dylan real bootleg collection. I plan to go through my treasure chest tonight and have a list of Top 25 Rare and Unreleased Dylan Performances posted here by Friday. Feel free to hit me up with any suggestions.
“Sign on the Cross,” Bob Dylan and the Band (unreleased)
It’s hard to take a breath these days without thinking about money, money, money. The stimulus package didn’t do shit and the stock market still sucks donkey dick. The national debt is off the chart, literally. And it seems everyone in Tampa Bay knows someone who recently received a pink slip.
Here’s to hoping everyone reading this has several pimp-rolls of cash stashed away somewhere. It could come in very handy, very soon. But, on a lighter note, here are some sonic odes to the mighty greenback.
1. Money, Pink Floyd
2. Lawyers, Guns And Money, Warren Zevon
3. Money Changes Everything, Cyndi Lauper
4. Mo’ Money Mo’ Problems, Notorious B.I.G.
5. It’s Money That Matters, Randy Newman
6. Easy Money, Rickie Lee Jones
7. Money, Money, Money, ABBA
8. Money for Nothing, Dire Straits
9. What Do You Do For Money Honey, AC/DC
10. Pay Me My Money Down, Bruce Springsteen
For the past 13 years, No Depression magazine has been the leading authority on all things alt-country. Alas, four months ago, the publication closed its presses.
Because, y’know, the economy is in the shitter and the masses apparently have a 200-word attention span these days (see new one-page-news-section of Tampa Tribune).
On a positive note, No Depression has remerged as an online only publication. Check it out.
Perhaps you’ve already heard that Bruce Springsteen will be performing during halftime at Super Bowl XLIII, y’know, the one taking place in Tampa on Feb. 1, 2009.
How about ON THE FIELD at Raymond James Stadium for the Super Bowl XLIII Pregame and Halftime shows?? We are looking for approximately 600 men and women to be a part of our Pregame and Halftime Stage Crews for the massive production. The crews will assist in moving on to the field and assembling the modular rolling units that make up the stages and lighting rigs for the show. No previous staging experience or special skills are necessary. Just the desire to be a part of Super Bowl and Tampa HISTORY!
Both shows take place this evening. I’ve seen all the bands play before except Maroon 5, my least fave of the bunch. Counting Crows (pictured) blew me away at the Tampa Bay Performing Arts Center way back in 1997 (Fiona Apple opened) and I haven’t seen ‘em since.
Against Me! rocked at Warped Tour this summer. Decisions. Plus, I live in Tampa. That’s a factor, too. Another solid option is Building the State at New World Brewery which also goes down tonight. Well, check back later today and should have my mind made up. What gig would you attend?
It’s looking as if Chinese Democracy might, might, actually be relesed before the world ends. The bigger question: at this point, does anyone even care?
“If The World” — a version of which leaked earlier this year — will appear in the upcoming Leonardo DiCaprio/Russell Crowe movie Body of Lies, in theaters October 10th. The track features the guitar work of Gn’R guitarist Robin Finck, as well as Buckethead, who left the band in 2004. The song plays during the closing credits of the movie, but it won’t appear on the soundtrack album. It will be the second official release of a Chinese Democracy track, as “Shackler’s Revenge” is included in the new Rock Band 2 game.
Last week singer/songwriter/punk hero Ted Leo was chillin’ at his place in Rhode Island when I gave him a buzz to discuss his new EP Rapid Response and current tour, which brings him to Jannus Landing Friday on a bill with Against Me! (which I interviewed here).
“The song is generally just about the idea that you never thought you’d need to be afraid of the people who are ostensibly there to protect you, ostensibly there to serve you,” Leo said in regards to his new politically-charged track “Paranoia: Not Enough,” which he wrote after hearing about the police brutality that took place at the Republican National Convention. ” Throughout the past eight years, there’s an ever-spreading influence of the executive branch, steamrolling opposition and gaining all these powers via national emergency and wartime law. Now, they’re able to spy on citizens, and it all filters down to what happened at the RNC, the lawmen feeling empowered, detaining innocent people and beating quite a few up.”
I like Perry, though. Just not enough to shell out $49.99 for a 12-inch miniature of her. Maybe a life-sized likeness would be worth 50 bucks … but I digress. It has been a long day, a long week, and my brain is in the gutter. Then again, my brain is pretty much always in the gutter.
Posted after the jump is the official video for “Dreamin’ of You,” an outtake from Oh Mercy that’s the set’s first single. I’m a huge Dylan fan and will be spending the rest of the day soaking up this stuff — most of which hasn’t been previously leaked, at least not to my knowledge, and my Dylan boots collection is larger than I care to admit. OK, now track 2, Dylan’s doing a solo, acoustic guitar and harmonica version of “Most of the Time,” a Dylan favorite of mine. Gorgeous. Gotta go.
Tampa singer/songwriter Matt Hires has signed to F-Stop Music, a new imprint label under Atlantic Records that will issue his debut EP Live From Hotel Cafe on Oct. 7. Hires CD release party will take place Wed., Oct. 8, New World Brewery, Ybor City.
An expressive vocalist with impressive range and a gifted lyricist, Hires offers a winning split between folk and strum pop, offering songs that are smart, touching and grabby.
Hipsters, run for the hills. AC/DC is scheduled to rattle the St. Pete Times Forum, Tampa, on Sun., Dec. 21 — and it will take a major disaster to keep me from attending. The highly underrated hard rock titans are masters of heavy riffs and swinging rhythms that make you wanna shake your ass, an anomaly in the metal world. The lyrics? Deliciously horny double entendres that speak to the sexual beast that’s been at the core of rock ‘n’ roll since its inception.
AC/DC are hitting the road in support of its full-length Black Ice. The disc drops Oct. 20 and features the savage stomp “Rock ‘N’ Roll Train,” which I blogged about here. The band performed at the St. Pete Times Forum back when it was called the Ice Palace on March 21, 2001. After the tour wrapped, they went on a hiatus that lasted until this year. AC/DC singer Brian Johnson lives in Sarasota so the audience will likely be peppered with family and friends, which should all but guarantee a first-rate performance from the charismatic frontman (who also happens to be a nice guy, I hung with him a couple times when I lived in Sarasota).
Skipper’s Smokehouse’s 28th anniversary weekend celebration wrapped Sunday (Sept. 28) with rousing sets by some of Tampa Bay’s top rock acts. Hat Trick Heroes’ skilled-beyond-their-years teenage members closed the evening with a performance that offered a proverbial rattling of the venue’s famed oaks. The power trio brought the audience to the lip of the stage with Santino Rumore’s (pictured) precision guitar attacks, older brother Micheal’s full-throttle vocals/propulsive bass work and Christian Peters’ no-quarter drum bashing.
The tight threesome offered an unrelenting set marked by finely crafted, cock-strutting originals such as “Chasing My Tail” — which recently won the band a CL Best of the Bay for Best Hard Rock single. The band also delivered crushing covers of Led Zeppelin’s “Dazed and Confused” and The Doors’ “The End” before exiting the stage to boisterous cheers around 9:30. Michael’s cold kept him quiet in the hours leading up to his performance, but once on stage, the 18-year-old unleashed a rock ’n’ roar that made the young women huddled underneath him howl.
The Best of the Bay winner for Best New Band, Tailgunner Joe and the Earls of Slander, also proved grippingly potent with their expert blend of punk and roots rock — prompting one concertgoer to favorably compare the young local act to The Raconteurs. The Tampa-based quartet’s set largely consisted of cuts from their excellent, at times topical but never preachy, six-song EP The Red Scare, which in addition to smart originals includes a rollicking cover The Romantics’ 1979 smash “What I Like About You.” The audience ate it up in concert.
Skipper’s Smokehouse wraps up its 28th Anniversary weekend with a local band showcase that we — CL — had a hand in choosing, which means, y’know, we highly recommend it. Here’s the skinny:
Local Music Extravagonzo: Hat Trick Heroes w/Tailgunner Joe and the Earls of Slander/Katherine Kelly & Sons of Hippies/Basic Rock Outfit/Sarge and the Aeromen, 5 p.m., Sun. Sept. 28, Skipper’s Smokehouse, Tampa, $10.
I’ve been feeling like shit the past few days. Hunkered down at my apartment Friday and my parents’ place Saturday. Last night, I waited until everyone went to bed (my cousin and his wife were visiting from Pennsylvania) and then spent $1.99 of my folks’ hard-earned money on Cool Hand Luke (thanks ma and pa).
I laughed. I sniffled. I cheered the rugged individualism, the rebellion, the killer grin Luke flashed — even with a slug through his neck. Love that movie. On Saturday, in honor of the actor’s passing, I posted a list of my 10 favorite Newman flicks here at the Daily Loaf, along with clips of each selection.
Here’s a look at my new Bar Tab logo and a snippet from my latest column. Were you one of the approximately 1,000 people who partied it up at CL’s Best of the Bay Awards Show at Tampa Theatre? Then perhaps you recall the flask I chugged on stage. Good times. From my current Bar Tab, which is now found in Bad Habits:
The original plan was for me to enter the stage with a whiskey bottle filled with iced tea — and, once at the podium, chug, chug, chug. But I balked. Didn’t want to be accused of engaging in any bullshit. Instead, I stumbled to the podium and grasped it with both hands as if to steady myself. It was, at least in part, acting — I think. I asked the audience to give me a moment and then flashed my flask. The longer I held it to my lips the louder the crowd roared — or at least that’s the sound I heard inside my mind. By the time I wiped my mouth on my sport coat sleeve, I was definitely loaded.
It’s Thursday. Time to get stoked for the weekend. Here’s what we have for ya in the latest issue of CL (pictured). Plus, this just in, Anberlin at Vinyl Fever tonight at 8 p.m.
Clay Aiken has finally confirmed what the whole world has suspected ever since he crooned his way through American Idolin 2003. I think even my 80something-year-old Italian grandma saw this one coming. From People.com:
Following the Aug. 8 birth of his son Parker, singer Clay Aiken is following through on a promise he made to himself as a new dad: to publicly acknowledge that he’s gay.
“It was the first decision I made as a father,” Aiken, 29, tells the upcoming issue of PEOPLE, on newsstands Friday. “I cannot raise a child to lie or to hide things. I wasn’t raised that way, and I’m not going to raise a child to do that.”
Aiken is a “proud Southern Baptist.” It will be interesting to see how all his Right Wing pals take to his, y’know, gayness.
Seven-word description: Frisky folk rock for the indie set.
Should appeal to fans of:Benji Hughes, Beck, Bob Dylan
Who’s the guy who sings and plays harmonica like Dylan? Guitarist/singer Eric Earley. He wrote all the songs for Furr, Blitzen Trapper’s debut full-length for Sub Pop.
The Rock and Roll Hall of Fame nominees has been announced. I know, to many people out there, the RR HOF has all the relevance of a dinosaur exhibit. To others, it’s still fun to debate who deserves entrance. Here’s the list of nine. Five make it.
On his best-known material outside the film world, Randy Newman managed to largely cloak biting satire in hummable melodies and sing along choruses resulting in first-class bait and switches, the finest being “I Love L.A.” The song is a fixture at Los Angeles sports arenas despite including such lines as “Look at that bum over there, man/ He’s down on his knees.”
On Harps and Angels, Newman’s first proper album in nearly a decade, the acerbic singer/songwriter makes no effort to placate casual listeners, keeping the focus on the mostly misanthropic lyrics, which are more spoken than sung. Laidback, New Orleans piano and minimal orchestration accompany the singer. Newman, the fellow responsible for the atheist anthem “God’s Song,” starts the disc by second guessing his non-belief in the humorous title track.
People who suffer from acute anxiety are often stalked in dreamland by a faceless marauder. The victim awakens breathing hard, clutching sheets wet with their own cold perspiration. Metallica brilliantly chronicles these perils in “All Nightmare Long,” the 8-minute linchpin of the metal gods’ spectacular comeback album Death Magentic.
It’s similar in theme to “Enter Sandman,” from the band’s 1991 self-titled commercial breakthrough; however, “All Nightmare Long’s” sonic thrust recalls the heavy artillery majesty found on the band’s 1980s thrash classics Kill ‘Em All, Ride the Lightning and Master of Puppets. On “All Nightmare Long,” a slow, foreboding intro hastily gives way to a bunker-busting assault of thwack, thwack, thwack. Then James Hetfield’s beastly growl surfaces, sounding as authoritative and dangerous as it did decades ago. Unlike the majority of today’s metal frontmen, Hetfield makes his declarations decipherable, with the pulverizing rhythm pausing as he drills home a decisive chorus like: “Feel us breathe upon your face/Feel us shift, every move we trace/Hunt you down without mercy/ Hunt you down all nightmare long.”
Anyone seriously interested in the music of the late Frank Zappa is aware of his widow, Gail Zappa.
With unprecedented tenacity, she guards the rights to her husband’s official recordings.
Gail also lords over his meticulously recorded and videotaped live shows, plus the sheet music that would allow internationally respected Zappa tribute bands like Tampa Bay’s Bogus Pomp to better honor the great guitarist/composer’s work. In a rare interview, Gail discussed the rationale behind her rigid ways with the Los Angeles Times:
It’s Friday and I’m still recovering from our Best of the Bay soiree. Yeah, the hangovers hurt more than they used to — and the recovery time is twice what it was in my early 20s.
Anyway, time to prep for the weekend.What show will you be attending? Soulfound? Black Kids? The Dark Romantics? Brad Paisley? How about the Shackeltons (pictured) tonight at the Skipperdome? Or John Prine? Here’s what’s shaking:
“Pete proceeded to waltz over to the other side of the bar and do his panties routine. It was very popular on Thursday night. Pete would grab a cotton thong and wear it like a surgical mask with the woo-hoo cover over his nose and the straps tucked behind his ears. There wasn’t really much else to the act, but it earned rave reviews.”
I run down my favorite songs inspired by the wretched Bush administration in the music feature running Wed., Sept. 24. It feels like the right thing to do considering everyone from Norah Jones to Young Jeezy has taken a whack at Dubya. No matter how much you agree with the message, though, a bad tune is still a bad tune.
It’s a quiet day in the office. Half the crew is at home, Sal is passed out at his desk and the rest of us are seriously fuzzy-headed. The hangovers, though, were well worth it.
Attendees collected hardware, enjoyed live music performances by some of the region’s top acts (pictured after the jump), the jokes of host Brendan McLaughlin and the spectacle of me draining half a flask of Canadian Mist on stage. Yeah, I’m feeling that one today. And the after party, where my coworker Lyndsay Tubbs danced with “The Senator.” The unofficial, after after party took place at The Hub, and we’re not even going to discuss the debauchery and silliness that went down there.
Here’s a list of all the music winners (scroll down to “staff picks,” music starts with Best New Band”). Click here for readers’ poll winners and here for more Best of the Bay coverage.
We’re all giddy over here at Creative Loafing Headquarters, prepping for our Best of the Bay Awards Show: The Loafies, which takes place tonight at Tampa Theatre. The festivities kick off with a red carpet shindig at 7 p.m. The awards presentation starts at 8 p.m. The Best of the Bay issue — which includes all of the editors’ picks and readers’ poll winners — will be available at the after party, 10 p.m., 514 Franklin Street, corner of Tampa and Franklin (in a space we rented above Indigo Coffee). Tickets are $10 and can be purchased at the door. They include two free drinks at the after party, which is open to all ticket holders.
The Best of the Bay show includes music performances by Have Gun, Will Travel, Damon Fowler Group, Daylight District and Basic Rock Outfit. In between hunkering down in the green room, I’ll be getting on stage to present the award for Best Dive Bar, induct a newcomer to the Best of the Bay Hall of Fame and introduce a special performance by Have Gun, Will Travel. The band will be joined by a pair of local luminaries on a show stopping, folk classic. Brendan McLaughlin, of ABC Action News, hosts the event. Be there. We had it at Tampa Theatre for the first time last year and it was a blast.
After leading his punk band Against Me! to a banner year marked by the acclaimed album New Wave, its smash single “Thrash Unreal” and mad gigging that included headlining Warped Tour, Tom Gabel (pictured, photo by me) has decided to dial it down a bit. His upcoming seven-song solo EP, Heart Burns, will be released on CD, digitally and on vinyl by Sire Records Oct. 28.
Remember that obnoxious 1990s Van Halen hit “Right Now”? You know, the one with the annoying hook and horrible lyrics? The one with the equally grating video (see below)? Yeah, well, presidential hopeful John McCain’s team (I doubt McCain would know Eddie Van Halen from Eddie Haskell) used the song at a rally in Ohio. Co-writer Sammy Hagar’s reaction? He got a chub.
“I got goosebumps from it — my fur went up,” says the band’s ex-frontman, Sammy Hagar, who co-wrote and sang the song — and said he’d be “just as happy” if Obama played it. “I was honored that a potential president of the United States used those words in a positive sense, like, ‘We gotta act now!’ ”
OK, I lied. The King has not returned from the grave to endorse the senator from Illinois. But it seems every other artist selling records has pledged support for Barack Obama.
The list is varied and impressive.
We’re talking everyone from bluegrass legend Ralph Stanley (and McCain thought he had the 80-year-old vote wrapped up) to coke rapper Young Jeezy. I’m glad to see all these popular musicians getting behind the “change” candidate but, really, does an endorsement from Pete Wentz, or even Bob Dylan, mean shit?
“The polls always bear it out: It’s nice when musicians get involved, but they don’t sway elections,” commented Bill Maher at a Democratic National Convention bash thrown by Rolling Stone magazine. “Puff Daddy said, ‘Vote or die’ — and Puff Daddy might actually kill you – but people still didn’t vote.”
I hate to be such a cynic, but I think Maher has a point. That said, I hope to be proved wrong.
On her 2006 solo debut Rabbit Fur Coat, Rilo Kiley frontwoman Jenny Lewis glided through an Appalachian dream world and convinced us to follow. On her new disc, Acid Tongue, the singer/songwriter periodically stomps her boots while exploring similar terrain. The journey just got a lot more interesting.
Acid Tongue includes plenty of quirky meditations on lost love that recall her previous adventure: the indie folk title track; the strings-laden torch song “Trying My Best to Love You;” the white soul album closer “Sing a Song For Them.” But then there’s the guitar fury of the nearly 9-minute “The Next Messiah,” the heavy blues blowout “Fernando”and the twang rocker “Carpetbaggers,” a duet with Elvis Costello.
These well-placed jolts give Acid Tongue greater balance — a component that’s lacking on Rabbit Fur Coat. Lewis shows that her delicately seductive vocals are more versatile than her debut suggested. But in doing so, she never loses the innocent charm that wooed listeners the first time around.
Acid Tongue, will be released via Warner Bros. on Sept. 23 but has been available for streaming via Lewis’ MySpace site since Sept. 9.
AC/DC’s new single, Rock ’n’ Roll Train, is the band’s best stuff in more than a decade. It’s vintage, hard and heavy blooze with a charmingly simple lyric about the joys of R&R decadence. A potent Angus Young guitar solo kicks in right around the 2:30 mark, giving the cut a rough edge that makes it sound like a killer outtake from, say, High Voltage.
Critics will bitch that it’s AC/DC doing the same three-chord shtick but that’s as silly as dissing Chuck Berry or Bo Diddley. If the formula works, why fuck with it?
I’m still pissed at the boys for going to bed with Wal-Mart but am eagerly waiting for the band to announce a Tampa tour date. I’ve seen Brian Johnson front some pick up bands when I lived in Sarasota but have yet to witness the ferocity of a full-out AC/DC show. This needs to be corrected.
In my current Bar Tab column, my father and I are confronted by a self-proclaimed “Florida cracker” named Steve. We were at Woody’s Waterfront on St. Pete Beach. Here’s a snippet:
I returned from the restroom to find Pops being chatted up by a red-faced fellow who looked and sounded like he’d been guzzling beer since he rolled out of the local shelter. He had on a pair of imitation Oakley sunglasses, a UF cap, a “Latitudes and Attitudes” T-shirt, khaki shorts and well-worn flip-flops. He smoked generic cigs. A weathered knapsack occupied the stool next to him.
Just when you thought it was safe to close your account and concentrate on stalking your “friends” via Facebook, MySpace announces it’ll be launching a music store later this month.
The store will differ from iTunes and Amazon’s MP3 store by allowing users to share music through their MySpace pages, build communal playlists and buy merchandise and gig tickets.
It of course would be much more interesting, especially in gossip circles, if our disbanding were the result of a Yoko Ono, severe drug/alcohol abuse, numerous inter-band fist fights, the piling up of lawsuits from the mothers of our illegitimate children, or one of us getting snatched up by David Bowie, or getting sucked into a video game ala Tron. The reality is, the truth is not always that exciting, the reasons not always so satisfying. But when folks in the band feel in their heart and head it’s time to stop, it’s time to stop and move on to something else. Lucky for us, we get to go out on top. Disagree? Buy the new record, punk.
I live in an apartment with no central air. Not a smart move if you live in, say, Florida. I know. But the lease lasts until March and my supply of “fuck you” money isn’t where it should be. So I call a hot, one-bedroom apartment home.
During the summer, not only is it miserable in here, my sweltering apartment, but my electric bill is double — cuts into my beer money and everything. When I do turn on the wall unit, it sounds like the roar of an ancient helicopter, one that’s never gonna make it off the helipad. People come over from MacDinton’s to see what the hell is happening.
It’s embarrassing.
There are eight apartments in my near-century-old building. All of them have central air except mine. I’m considering sleeping in the cool of the hallway. My fellow upstairs neighbors are females. They tell me we have a mouse. Or mice. The rodents don’t hang in my apartment, I explain, it’s too fucking hot.
For the past 21 years, Jeff Stewart has been delighting WMNF listeners with his impeccable taste and knowledge of classic rhythm and blues music. His Rhythm Vault program has played a significant role in many listeners’ lives and last year Creative Loafing honored Stewart with a Best of the Bay Award:
WMNF host Jeff Stewart’s long-running Friday program (it used to be on Wednesdays) features hefty helpings of classic R&B and soul ranging from the obvious to those obscure gems that force listeners to scour iTunes searching the stuff out. Stewart also gooses his broadcasts with the occasional blues or reggae side and a tune like “Love is a Losing Game,” by Amy Winehouse, that rare contemporary hitmaker who can hold her own alongside the titans of yesteryear. Stewart’s enthusiasm, exquisite taste and vast knowledge make The Rhythm Vault as good a reason as any to head home early and curl up next to the radio or download the broadcast online.
Here’s the Sept. 4 email sent out by WMNF Program Director Randy Wynne, which includes info for those interested in filling Stewart’s time spot:
“Thank you, mom, for my beer,” Tommy Simms (pictured far left) announced from the stage as he raised his cup. The 20something old Clearwater resident’s band, Win Win Winter, had just started an outstanding 40-minute set that took place Fri., Sept. 5, at State Theatre in St. Petersburg as part of this publication’s CL in Concert series. The crowd of about 200 largely included Simms’ fans, friends and family. Tommy’s younger 21-year-old sister, Juliet Simms, and her nationally signed (Sony/Epic) pop punk band, Automatic Loveletter, closed the show with Tommy sitting in on guitar.
Win Win Winter’s performance, which kicked off around 10:15 p.m., met high expectations as the band displayed its mastery of styles ranging from angular indie rock to bouncy keyboard-laden numbers to rustic ballads marked by the lap steel playing of Nate Oliver (pictured far right), who also sat in with Automatic Loveletter and is a member of ace alt-country outfit Have, Gun Will Travel (more on them, and other local music breaking news items, after the jump).
My current Bar Tab finds me staying close to home, in a new setting called the SoHo Tavern. I highly recommend the place, especially if you’re seeking an alternative to the young and craziness of nearby MacDinton’s. Oh, yeah, and then there’s the part about getting naked, in front of strangers, while tripping for the first time. Here’s a snippet:
“Yeah, I went camping at a nudist resort for the first time,” she said. “I thought it would be blah but it really was pretty cool.”
“Did you get naked?”
“Yeah. Everybody at the pool was naked. We got in to play volleyball and all these guys were telling me to take my top off. I figured they were just dirty old men. But then my friend told me it was a rule at the resort: You had to be nude in the pool. So I took it off.”
Hometown pop punk heroine Juliet Simms (pictured) and her band Automatic Loveletter headline a killer lineup tonight at the State Theatre in St. Petersburg. Yeah, Simms is young, pretty and dressed to impress the Hot Topic set, but she also has a powerful, expressive voice and pens thoughtful lyrics that reach beyond high school hallways. Click here for my write-up and more info.
Tonight is also Rebekah Pulley’sCD release show at Skipper’s Smokehouse in Tampa. Newly nationally signed blues man Damon Fowlerplays the same venue Saturday. On Wednesday, Chris Isaak drops by Ruth Eckerd Hall to do some heavy crooning. Read about these acts and more in Music Week.
Mark your calendars: Tampa alt-rock quartet The Beauvilles unveil their full-length debut Whispering Sin with a gig Thurs., Sept. 11 at Crowbar, Ybor City. I sat down recently with frontman Shawn Kyle Beauville for this week’s music feature, “The Beauvilles go over to the dark side.” And apologies to Beauville guitarist Christopher Tolan, who was misidentified in the original version of the story. The error has been corrected.
Mitch Hedberg, who died of an overdose in 2005, ranks as one of the last true originals of comedy. There really wasn’t a precedent for his slyly delivered, zany observational bits. One of my faves is, “I like rice. Rice is great when you’re hungry and you want 2,000 of something.”
Hedberg issued only two albums, via Comedy Central, during his lifetime. On Sept. 9, the label will release Do You Believe in Gosh? From MitchHedberg.net:
Pearl Jam bassist Jeff Ament’s first solo album, Tone, will be released Sept. 16 via the band’s Ten Club and select indie retailers, reports Billboard.com. The songs on the disc are culled from a batch of 35 that Ament says were never submitted for use by Pearl Jam. Which could be true. Or they’re just the duds that Eddie Vedder vetoed.
This might be a disc to boycott. The Stone Temple Pilots singer (and former Velvet Revolver frontman) will drop a second solo album, titled Happy, Nov. 18 via his own Softdrive label, reports Billboard.com.
The singer will perhaps think twice before blanking on a show again if an entire market the size of Tampa Bay passes. An email to his self-owned record company explaining why you won’t be buying the CD should sweeten the satisfaction level. Here it is: contact@softdriverecords.com.
The rest of the RS list, though, is shoddy. Doesn’t even include “Smooth Criminal.” Anyway, what’s your favorite song by the recently-turned-50-year-old Freak of Pop?
Wilco’s Jeff Tweedy takes lead vocals and the harmonious Fleet Foxes boys join in on the chorus for this gorgeous reading of the Bob Dylan-penned, Band classic “I Shall Be Released,” which was performed on stage, Aug. 21, in Spokane, Wash. (thanks Pitchfork). For the final verse, Tweedy might have pushed himself too far in attempting Richard Manuel’s richly distinctive falsetto. It’s a sweet gesture, though, one done out of respect, judging by Tweedy’s humble expression.
This will be a big, long booze-filled holiday weekend for many — including your teenage sons and daughters who recently left home to go attend classes and party their asses off at places like USF, FSU and UF. Good for them, I say. The absurdity of these young adults not being allowed to legally imbibe is finally on the table again. University and college presidents have signed a proposal that basically states that it’s utter horseshit for the drinking age to be 21. I opined on the subject in my latest Bar Tab. Here’s a snippett:
In my experience, students are going to drink whether or not they’re of legal age. These people are old enough to vote, purchase a home and die for their country in combat. They shouldn’t be treated like criminals because they want to enjoy a few libations after passing an exam that required a couple all-night study sessions. Hell, they shouldn’t be criminalized if they want to get knee-walking drunk every Saturday night. Opponents slam this argument for the same wrongheaded reasons that propelled the Dry Movement a century ago.
Win Win Winter’s EP A Brief History Of… sounds better every time I give it a listen, which has been quite often lately. It’s a brilliantly diverse disc that ranges from cocksure dance rock (”Baker Ave”) to acoustic, steel guitar-kissed melancholy (”Doves and Uppercuts”). Splitting the difference is the mid-tempo, highly emotive mood rocker “New Accents.”
On Wednesday, news arrived that Win Win Winter has finished its debut full-length. The band titled it Viole. The disc “should be out in time for the holiday season on 24 Hour Service Station,” reads the press release.
Be sure to catch Win Win Winter perform Sept. 5 at the State Theatre. Frontman Tommy Simms will be joining forces with his sister Juliet Simms, lead singer of the just-back-from-Warped-Tour emo band Automatic Loveletter, which has an EP out on Sony/Epic. Here’s the info:
It’s Thursday afternoon. Time to make plans for the holiday weekend, which for many should start in a few hours. Clearwater garage rock foursome Très Bien kicks things off with a gig at Crowbar and Rod Stewart plays the Ford Amphitheatre tonight, as well. The latter hasn’t cut a solid record since the mid-1970s but the show has my parents excited nonetheless. Here’s to hoping the once formidable rocker turns in a performance that will transport Mom and Dad back to the good old days, before they had four children and all the other perils of middle age to worry about on a daily basis.
Kenny Chesney (more yawning) performs at the Ford on Friday and then on Saturday My Morning Jacket — one of the hottest bands on the planet — plays a road-trip worthy gig in Orlando that will be attended by my esteemed coworker Leilani. Flaming Lips-channeling Gainesville act Morningbell will be at New World Brewery on Sunday. Read about all these upcoming shows and more in Music Week.
Speaking of New World, highly recommended Tallahassee indie pop band Soft Targets headline a three-band show at the rustic Ybor City venue on Friday. Read my advance piece here.
Jerry Wexler, the music titan who produced Aretha Franklin’s finest recordings and signed Led Zeppelin, died August 15 at his home on Siesta Key in Sarasota. I didn’t see the news online until returning from a late night of revelry. Nonetheless, I felt compelled to write, immediately, and posted this entry here Aug. 16. The piece has since been rejiggered a bit, tweaked and augmented with quotes from the interview I did with Wexler in 2003. Here’s a snippet:
Bob Dylan’s controversial gospel album, 1979’s Slow Train Coming, has always moved me deeply. Despite explicit born-again-Christian rhetoric that I don’t subscribe to, there’s a me-against-the-world passion in the singer’s voice that transcends dogma. Not only did Wexler produce it, but he also witnessed Dylan’s proselytizing firsthand. “I said, ‘Bob, forget about me, you’re talking to a confirmed, 62-year-old, card-carrying Jewish atheist,’” Wexler said. “[Dylan and I] only had good times.”
That’s right, the shock jock will release The Imus Ranch Record through the venerable New West Records on Sept. 16. Confusion struck the moment I opened the package. At first glance, as in when I spotted the name “Imus” on the jewel case, I foresaw a field day slamming it. But then I read the artist/song-list … and then listened … and now I’m in a pickle.
Granted, the album features several misses, but more hits than is typical for this kind of ad hoc compilation. To complicate matters more, Imus the Blowhard also played a creative role in this rather inspired collection. “The compilation was produced by Imus along with Kyle Lehning (Randy Travis, George Jones) and Tracy Gershon (well known A & R executive),” reads the press release. “Imus selected each song and matched it to a specific artist.”
I’m so tired of Madonna. Is there anything pop’s greatest sexpot won’t do for a little cheap publicity? Her latest stunt finds her comparing John McCain to Adolf Hitler. Really, is that the best you can do, Madonna, to drum up interest for your “Sticky and Sweet” tour?
Madonna lumped the presumptive Republican presidential nominee into a video montage that includes Adolf Hitler and Robert Mugabe…
McCain’s image is in a video (for the aptly named song “Get Stupid”) that shows him, Hitler and Mugabe juxtaposed with shots of global warming and environmental and social destruction. When the song ends, more peaceful images of John Lennon, Al Gore, Mahatma Gandhi and Barack Obama are shown.
Makes me long for the good old days when Madonna got photographed being balled by Vanilla Ice or made out with pop tarts half her age in order to keep her name in the headlines. At 50, she could actually make a statement by showing off her naughty bits. Here’s to hoping her next stunt involves Playboy, or some straight-to-video soft core. Anything but politics, or “causes.” Stick to what ya know, Madonna.
My Sarasota-based coworker Amanda Schurr and her friend Eddie stopped by my place last night after visiting the Ford Amphitheatre to see Black Rebel Motorcycle Club, which Amanda wrote about here. They had no interest in watching headliner Stone Temple Pilots and split as soon as BRMC’s set ended.
We were sitting on my back patio, catching up (Amanda and Eddie were friends of mine when I called Sarasota home in 2002-2003), and draining the Tecates they brought over. About an hour into their stay, my downstairs neighbor came home looking thoroughly pissed. “I just got back from the Stone Temple Pilots show,” she said. “They fucking canceled.”
Needless to say, Amanda and Eddie were glad they fled the Ford Amp early.
STP’s PR people are blaming the no-show on the weather. But we all know that’s bullshit. Here’s to hoping lead singer and former heroin addict Scott Weiland, pictured above looking aloof with cig dangling from his mouth, isn’t on a dangerous bender. I don’t feel like being snarky about this one. The guy has bipolar disorder and his brother died of an overdose. I’m not a huge fan of Weiland’s music but refuse to kick a man when he might be down. On the other hand, I understand the outrage expressed by “disapointed 10+ year fan,” who wrote:
shocking he was a no show. amp cut off alcohol sales at 9pm and vast majority of HCSO was waiting along the gates since venue didnt have the balls to make a formal announcement (at least not by the time I left 10:30pm) .. opening act sucked and the 3 tour buses that were backstage when I arrived were gone. I understand having officers nearby but the situation couldve been handled in a more timely fashion.
UPDATE: Here’s the official word from from Ford Amp regarding refunds:
The Stone Temple Pilots performance originally scheduled for Friday 8/22/08 at the Ford Amphitheatre in Tampa has been postponed. Those holding tickets for this performance will have them honored if a new date is announced. Those requesting refunds can receive them through their point of purchase. For any questions, contact Customer Support at 1-800-431-3462 Monday-Saturday 10am-5pm EDT, or by email at ticketsupport@livenation.com.
The Hold Steady, to my ears, are basically a straightforward, neoclassic rock band that’s managed to endear itself to the fickle indie set. Will there be any fallout from Hold Steady guitarist Tab Kubler dissing indie gods Radiohead and then praising Oasis, the bane of stateside hipsters? Or is it just silly blog fodder?
“I like [Radiohead] as a rock band, all the buttons and sequencing and stuff like that I don’t really care for,” reads the Kubler quote in NME.com. “I’m a fan of rock music and what they’re doing now I don’t think is very good.”
I spent last week hanging with my fam, particularly my lil’ sis Elizabeth, who is pictured with me and “Fins” co-songwriter/novelist Tom Corcoran at The Dubliner, Thurs., Aug. 14. We arrived at the SoHo pub following Hunter S. Thomspon biographer William McKeen’s book signing (Corcoran and Thompson were buddies; co-wrote an unsold screenplay together). The evening made it into my current Bar Tab, as did our Wednesday activities, which included watching Damon Fowler perform at Green Iguana Ybor City. Here’s a snippet of “Sibling pride”:
It takes much booze to get me dancing — especially when no one else in the whole damn room is dancing, which was the case — but by that point I’d been consuming alcohol for about 12 hours. All concerns and anxieties about appearing foolish had been sufficiently drowned. My sister laughed as I failed to properly execute a twirl. Damon grinned from the stage. Good times.
When the news hit that Jack White and Alicia Keys (pictured) were teaming for the new James Bond theme song, “Another Way to Die,” which I blogged about here, everyone at CL headquarters decided it will either be absolute brilliance or an utter turd. Perhaps sensing trepidation from his fan base, White has offered a statement regarding the super pairing:
“After a couple of years of wanting to collaborate with Alicia Keys, it took James Bond himself to finally make it happen. Alicia put some electric energy into her breath that cemented itself into the magnetic tape. Very inspiring to watch. It gave me a new voice, and I wasn’t myself anymore. I drummed for her voice and she mimicked the guitar tones, then we joined our voices and screamed and moaned about these characters in the film and their isolation, having no one to trust, not even themselves. Maybe we became them for a few minutes.
The Memphis Horns were there to help us out, along with some of Nashville’s finest. Might be the first analogue Bond theme in twenty years, I don’t know. We wanted to push soul into those tapes, and join the family of Barry, Bassey, Connery and Craig.”
OK, I’m stoked. Here’s to hoping it lives up to the skyscraper-high expectations.
The Hanks perform tonight at New World, Black Rebel Motorcycle Club opens for Stone Temple Pilots at the Ford Amphitheatre Friday and Saturday marks the revival of the lauded In the Raw series at State Theatre.
Which gig will you be attending?
Big thanks to my coworkers for punching out the Music Section while I was on vacation.
Fans of Bloc Party will want to be at the indie disco-rocker’s websitetomorrow today (Thurs., Aug. 21). That’s when the band “will digitally release their third album, Intimacy,” reports CMJ. “A physical release will be available on October 28 via Atlantic Records, and will reportedly feature different tracks. Fans that pre-order the physical album will receive the digital release per gratis.”
John Rich, half of the cornball country duo Big & Rich (”Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy”), has decided to campaign for John McCain. I cringe at the thought of the White House being occupied by another fear-and-war-mongering WASP who is hopelessly out of touch with the middle class, and anyone too young for an AARP card.
But if that’s your man, fine.
Some of my best friends are Republicans. But country clown John Rich crossed the line when he told McCain supporters that the Man in Black was on their side.
Fortunately, Roseanne Cash quickly and eloquently defended her deceased father’s right not to be pulled into a political campaign posthumously. Because, really, that’s just wrong. Right up there with singing a song as utterly retarded as “Save a Horse (Ride a Cowboy).”
“It is appalling to me that people still want to invoke my father’s name, five years after his death, to ascribe beliefs, ideals, values and loyalties to him that cannot possibly be determined, and to try to further their own agendas by doing so,” Cash said in a statement on her Web site.
The statement was released after country star John Rich invoked the name of Johnny Cash at a recent Florida rally for presidential candidate John McCain. According to media reports, Rich told the crowd, “Somebody’s got to walk the line in the country. They’ve got to walk it unapologetically. And I’m sure Johnny Cash would have been a John McCain supporter if he was still around.”
Rich then sang Johnny Cash’s “I Walk the Line.”
“I knew my father pretty well, at least better than some of those who entitle themselves to his legacy and his supposed ideals,” Rosanne Cash said in the statement, “and even I would not presume to say publicly what I ‘know’ he thought or felt. This is especially dangerous in the case of political affiliation.
Donkey
CSS
Sub Pop
“If you are my friend you can sharpen my things with your teeth,” chirps CSS frontwoman Lovefoxxx on the dirty synth dance number “Let’s Reggae All Night.” Is the lyric gibberish? A sly sexual innuendo? Who knows. Ultimately, it’s one of those lines that’s impossible to define but grabs your attention nonetheless. Donkey is full of ’em. (“Kiss you in the photo booth/Duct tape you to my roof,” goes the chorus to “Believe/Achieve.”) That’s what keeps São Paulo, Brazil, quintet CSS afloat in the flooded field of retro electro-pop, a genre reliant on incessant, lo-fi plastic rhythms that purposely recall early MTV-era post punk. CSS became critic’s darlings two summers ago with its full-length debut Cansei de Ser Sexy (Portuguese for “Tired of Being Sexy”). Donkey plays like a formulaic sequel, but, y’know, with a fresh batch of memorable lines. 3 stars
The Queen of Alt-Country will issue a new album, Little Honey, on Oct. 14 on Lost Highway Records, reports CMT.com. The disc features a duet with Elvis Costello (”Jailhouse Tears”) and other guest appearances.
I’m a fan of Lucinda but her last release, West, struck me as too dreary for its own good. Here’s to hoping the new album finds the singer/songwriter in a less dismal mood.
The past several days have been a blur of extreme fun. Well, except for the other night/early morning when I came home and read about the death of Jerry Wexler. He was one of the coolest men I have ever met. Anyway, here’s an excerpt from my Bar Tab column that’s in the current issue of CL.
I’m on a bender, folks, leading up to a weeklong vacation that will include the consumption of several rivers of booze. Having to meet deadline is about the only thing that keeps my debauchery in check. Cut the leash and I’m a complete monster. Finding people to party on Sundays isn’t as easy as it once was, though. Like Hank Junior says, all my rowdy friends have settled down. Yeah, I’m talking to you, Buck, you pussy.
“I’m at a birthday party,” he says over a cacophony of piercing toddler voices.
I had to call him twice before he answered.
“You miserable fuck,” I holler. “You guys attend more kiddie birthday parties than is acceptable.”
Atlantic Records partner and famed producer Jerry Wexler, pictured right with Dusty Springfield, helmed many of my favorite albums. He also provided me with a cherished memory and one of my proudest journalistic accomplishments — two things for which I will always be grateful.
I knew death had been looming for years but when I saw the news online late last night it saddened me greatly. Still does. It’s not like Wexler and I were ever friends but the hours we spent together, which I recall vividly, and the kindness he showed me, made me feel like we had connected in way that rarely occurs during an interview.
Wexler died Friday at the age of 91. He was at his home on Siesta Key, a place I visited in 2003. The music titan had agreed to let me interview him for a profile that would run in the St. Petersburg Times, one of the newspapers I was freelancing for at the time, which was early in my career. My body shook with equal parts anxiety and excitement as I made the drive from my apartment in downtown Sarasota to his place in an upscale gated community on the nearby barrier island. A manservant who spoke broken English greeted me at the front door and led me to the living room where the great man sat. Wexler studied me closely — perhaps put off that The Times had sent a correspondent in his early 20s to interview him.
Before I turned on the tape recorder, he wanted to ask me questions, which included my birthplace and my writing experience. The conversation quickly turned to my favorite music and I rattled off the stars Wexler had produced — Ray Charles, Aretha Franklin, Bob Dylan and other artists he had not worked with such as Hank Williams Sr., who I knew that he respected. Wexler mentioned his affection for Williams’ signature tune “Lost Highway.” I concurred and then, with my voice noticeably nervous, mentioned it always struck me odd that although the song sounds autobiographical it was one of the few Williams didn’t write. “Um, yeah, I think a guy named Leon Payne wrote it,” I muttered, hoping to God my memory hadn’t failed me. Wexler grinned and from that moment on the interview went amazingly smooth.
I peppered Wexler with prepared and impromptu questions; listened attentively to his long, detailed, illuminating answers. The interview lasted a stretch of about three hours. I found Wexler to be one of the most intelligent people I had ever encountered, a master raconteur who had intimate stories about everyone from Professor Longhair, Dr. John, Doug Sahm and Willie Nelson to Charles, Aretha, Dylan, Solomon Burke, Dusty, Duane Allman and Led Zeppelin.
After the interview wrapped, I stuck around while the photog snapped pictures. Wexler clearly did not enjoy the experience and used the occasion to rattle off hilarious, politically incorrect jokes that had me howling while the photog politely cringed. After the photog left, Wexler led me to an adjacent room lined with CDs. He handed me copies of The Genius of Ray Charles, Doug Sahm and Friends, Aretha’s I Never Loved a Man (The Way I Love You) and a handsome double disc reissue of Dusty in Memphis that included liner notes by Wexler.
He also signed a copy of his highly recommended autobiography, Rhythm & the Blues: A Life in American Music, which he had sent me prior to the interview along with countless other fascinating documents such as a short story he had penned/published and clips the impresario had written while working as a journalist for Billboard magazine; stuff that predated his joining Atlantic Records in 1953. He signed my book: “For Wade — respect and affection — Jerry Wexler.”
My Wexler piece ran as “The Man from Atlantic” on the cover of the Times’ Floridian section, Sun., Aug. 3, 2003. It paid $600, the most money I had ever earned for a single piece. I was ecstatic — would have gladly accepted the assignment if the editors had offered me gas money to meet with Wexler, or nothing at all.
Wexler invited me to keep in contact, and I did, calling him if I was preparing to interview someone he had worked with, like soul great Solomon Burke. Speaking off the record, Wexler would give me priceless nuggets to try and work into the story. Unfortunately, most weren’t fit for “family newspapers.”
On staff at the Bradenton Herald in June of 2004, it came through the wires that Ray Charles had passed. I immediately picked up the phone and dialed Wexler. He answered on the second ring. “I just got off the phone with Rolling Stone and before that, the L.A. Times,” he said in his gruff but grandfatherly way. “But, I liked that piece you did on me, Wade, so I guess I’ll make time for you. What kind of quote do you need?”
Yeah, as you might have guessed, I’m a big fan of the Gonzo god. I’m also a big fan of William McKeen’s new biography Outlaw Journalist: The Life and Times of Hunter S. Thompson. Here’s an excerpt from my interview with McKeen:
McKeen’s bio smartly focuses on Thompson’s singular writing style, his mastery of invective and the lengths he went to make sense of a world gone wrong. McKeen adroitly dismantles the Raoul Duke persona exploited by uppity doodler Garry Trudeau, as well as Hollywood and Thompson himself. The book addresses the Gonzo journalist’s acts of brutality and self-destruction but keeps the emphasis on the writer and his ability to demonstrate the “power of language when used well.”
My favorite redneck, Hank Williams III, has a new disc ready to drop. It’s titled Damn Right Rebel Proud and if it’s half as good as his previous release, Straight to Hell, it’ll likely prove to be the most interesting country album of the year. It’s scheduled to come out Oct. 21. The first single is the trucker tune “Long Hauls & Close Calls.” A video has been shot. So, y’know, if you’re a fan, start looking for it on YouTube.
I had the pleasure of hanging with Hank III after a State Theatre gig in 2001. Let’s just put it this way, the hard-living honky tonk punk lived up to his reputation.
I interviewed Hank III in 2006 for the McClatchy wires, which means I was writing for “family newspapers,” which means most of the good stuff was not fit for print. Here’s a snippet that ran in the Denver Post:
Although Hank III has a genuine affection for classic country music, he never abandoned his first love, heavy metal.
He opens his show with material from his three country albums. The band takes an intermission and then returns as Ass Jack, a speed-country-metal band influenced by acts like the Melvins. Hank III’s been struggling to record that incarnation of his band for five years.
“I think its finally gonna happen,” he said. Hank III was at the end of a nine-day tour break when he answered his cellphone on his way to the Nashville airport.
“It usually takes a month to fully recuperate, to shake off the dizziness, I’m still a little zombified,” he said. “But it’s the ‘Straight to Hell tour,’ we started June, 6, 2006, it’s the 666 year, this one is gonna burn.”
That’s right. I’ll be spending the next seven days drinking myself into a blissed-out stupor. My younger sister Beth is scheduled to arrive in town from Colorado at 7 p.m. today. I’ll be taking her to see our pal (and Blind Pig recording artist) Damon Fowler perform Wednesday at Green Iguana in Ybor City.
Anyway, I’ll be doing some light blogging but not much else. I did however, manage to knock out a Bar Tab that will run Wed. OK, well, it’s way past noon, time to make myself a tasty beverage.
The next seven days find Amanda Shaw at the Skipperdome on Friday, Hippiefest going down Saturday at Ruth Eckerd Hall and a slew of other shows to choose from — Nervous Turkey, Dear Hunter, Coheed and Cambria, and much more — in Music Week.
