Vibes blog

I’m sorry. I don’t mean to sound too critical here. But the term “Supergroup” has resurfaced and it’s left me shaking my head. It was announced this week that Chickenfoot is scheduled to perform at the Uptown Amphitheatre in the nearly-complete N.C. Music Factory. Chickenfoot? Yes, Chickenfoot.

Only a group comprised of current and future rock ‘n’ roll Hall of Famers could get away – strike that – narrowly escape with such an obnoxious band name. Maybe it was drummer Chad Smith’s idea. After all, the name Red Hot Chili Peppers, Smith’s primary gig, probably sounded a bit silly before Flea thumped his first bass line or violated his first tube sock.

Regardless, former Van Halen members Sammy Hagar and Michael Anthony, guitar legend Joe Satriani and Smith take the Uptown stage on August 27, united as one. One Chickenfoot, that is. Wait until you see the logo. (more…)

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About three years ago, I remember getting an e-mail from the kid brother of a good friend from college. His name was Alex and he played bass in a band with some buddies in Charlottesville, and I had known his older sister, Dori, quite well following an infamous egg-throwing incident my junior year.

Back in school, Dori would often gush about young Alex’s work on a new recording, or the latest gig his band, Sparky’s Flaw, had booked to play in the local scene. Even then, she portrayed the role of the proud big sister quite well, always eager to share the latest news on her brother’s project. But honestly, I didn’t pay too much attention.

I myself had a few friends and family members in bands and my thoughts were along the lines of “good for Alex.” Strum a few chords for the University of Virginia sorority chicks. Have some fun, make a few bucks. Maybe they’ll blow up. And by ‘blow up’ I was thinking, “tour the mid-Atlantic college circuit.” (more…)

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If you’re a hockey fan and have been following the 2009 NHL playoffs, you’ve probably seen the Versus ads featuring the music of Explosions in the Sky, the Austin-based instrumental rock quartet. If you’re like most, you probably didn’t know who the band was but simply thought “man, that was a kick ass commercial.”

The inspirational spot features the voice of some old, weathered coach contrasting the theories of evolution and competition over a spectacular video montage of sports highlights. Check out the full, unedited version below. The sampled track is “First Breath After Coma,” off Explosions’ 2003 release, The Earth Is Not A Cold Dead Place.

Rarely does a commercial give me chills, but this one does every time. (more…)

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I can’t remember the last time I caught a weeknight show that began and ended before the sun went down. But this was the case on Tuesday, May 12, when I had a chance to check out Richard Shindell’s early evening set at the Evening Muse. The songwriter would have removed his sunglasses, if not for the glare of daylight peeking in from North Davidson.

The audience was tiny, and much older than the group that would later shuffle in for Eilen Jewell’s 9 p.m. show. Seated among a half-dozen graying couples, shirts tucked in and likely in their 50s, I felt somewhat out of place. The dude in front of me was rocking an American flag button down. But no big deal. After all, it was my 54-year-old father who had turned me on to Shindell. (more…)

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“I will now sell four copies of Cats & Dogs by the Royal Trux.”

One of the best scenes from the film adaptation of Nick Hornby’s novel, High Fidelity. Championship Vinyl owner Rob Fleming (John Cusack) puts on the record and confidently folds his arms across his chest. Seconds later an intrigued customer asks, “Who is this?”

“It’s the Royal Trux.”

“It’s great.”

“I know.”

I’ve never worked in a record store, but I might be willing to work for free if only to assume the title of Master Controller of the In-Store Stereo. I can’t imagine there’s a more satisfying or enjoyable part of the job. Now, if I get good and start moving product like it’s a new swine flu vaccine, I might talk to the owner about a commission structure.

Many of you have been there. You’re flipping through records or CDs and your train of thought is not-so-rudely interrupted by whatever brilliance is echoing through the store’s audio system. This was me a few weeks ago, on National Record Store Day. I was at Manifest Discs & Tapes and completely blindsided by a deep, almost Joplin-esque female voice supported by an eerie pedal steel guitar. Perhaps too embarrassed to utter the obvious, I approached a store clerk and simply pointed to the ceiling. (more…)

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