You know what’s great about living on Oakland, CA? You never know when you are going to end up at a Green Day concert. This was the second time that I saw Green Day play without even knowing that they were going to be performing until early evening that day. I highly recommend keeping your ears open fellow bay area folks, because these are their best sets. And, anyone that made it out to Live 105’s Not So Silent Night were treated to the best.
When one dips into the dark nebula of the world of post-punk, they are likely to find a world that seems to live between a variety of different spaces that make up the more solidly-defined genres of classical music. Songs can shift in intensity unexpectedly, from a thrashing fury that encourages stomping and raised fists, to a slow, steady groove that tempts even the toughest of those aforementioned rockers out onto the dance floor, and often times the two are well intertwined. It is one of the only genres that can be accurately applied to a band and not immediately subject them to a small pigeonhole of a classification, for enough acts have graced the scene throughout the decades that the label “post-punk” is sure to conjure up a plethora of images in one’s mind at first thought. Therefore, as a nod to how wide the span and definition has shifted over the last 30 years, two acts were chosen to kick off December at the Fillmore with an evening of shadowy, danceable mayhem: the Los Angeles duo known as She Wants Revenge, and Peter Murphy, best known as the frontman of Northampton goth rock godfathers Bauhaus.
I have a live music bucket list. There are about a dozen or so musicians that I’d like to see before they call it quits. The number one band on that list is Melt-Banana. I first uncovered them working at the old Wherehouse Music on Geary in San Francisco. Somebody was selling back used CD’s, and there was a single loose disc left behind. It was Cell Scape by Melt-Banana. I put it on the overhead, and I was blown away. It was like nothing I’ve ever heard before. It was chaotic, weird, and beautiful. I instantly knew that I needed to see this band live. Sadly, it took almost 10 years before I was able to make that work.
When I walked in to The Great American Music Hall the energy was already strong. It was one of those fanatic crowds where, even though it wasn’t sold out, everyone was pushed up against the front of the stage. I have seen Noah and the Whale twice before, but never had there been people so excited to see then like there was at this show. The energy was immediately infections and I stood impatiently with the rest of the crowd, pressing as close as I could to the stage. Continue reading “Show Review: Noah and the Whale with Nikki Lane at Great American Music Hall, 11/21/11”
It’s very easy to get lost in the concert scene with a want to see the greatest technological innovation in stage design or the wildest antics ever displayed by an up-and-coming act — so much so that the music, quite sadly, sometimes gets lost in the struggle. Venues are built with impressive sound systems that make the foundations shudder and quake, and incredible arrays of lights, lasers and smoke work in tandem to paint a dazzling dreamscape over the faces of the musicians onstage — and that’s not taking into account any props they may, themselves, throw in for an extra layer of excitement. While it’s probably more common to forego a want of musical satisfaction in the face of a bombastic display of utter chaos that takes us to another world, it is important to find those special acts who take the stage with a minimum amount of fancy arrangements and eye candy, instead devoting their attention to their elegant sound that rings gloriously about the ears like a breezy summer susurrus rather than a blistering sirocco. To these expert talents, we look to the Portland collective known as Pink Martini to bring us back to a world of music so often heard in our daily lives that it seems impossible to fully appreciate it on a stage, or in a tremendous theater like the Paramount in Oakland — and they rise to the challenge magnificently, particularly with frontlady Storm Large taking a new place at the helm.
San Francisco’s disproportionately large population of ex-Ohioans once again flocked to Great American Music Hall to see the Buckeye State’s finest cultural ambassadors – Linford Detweiler and Karin Bergquist of Over the Rhine – perform another exquisitely drowsy set of their infinitely soothing jazzy Americana.
After an inexplicable ten years without seeing They Might Be Giants, I got to the Fillmore early to get that spot right up front just like I remembered. What I wasn’t sure of was if I would still hear my favorite song and would the two John’s still rock it like crazy. Lucky for me, and hopefully everyone else at the sold out show, everything I hoped for happened, plus even more. Continue reading “Show Review: They Might Be Giants with Jonathan Coulton at The Fillmore, 11/12/11”
If there is one subject that art constantly draws its attention to, it is love. It is a beautiful and terrible thing, utterly perplexing and impossible to define or simplify, and poets, painters, writers and musicians the world over have attempted its expression for a long as human history can recall. It is a funny concept, because it often takes the joyful, numbing jitters one feels in moments of tender intimacy, and pairs them up with the glorious, whooping sensation of a fiery passion to run to rooftops and scream your newfound devotion to the world below. Artists who know and have felt these moments of indescribable sense have done their best to bring forth their craft and communicate both sides of that spectrum, and everything in between, in their chosen mediums. It stands to reason, therefore, that two artists, both experts at their craft and both devotedly, passionately in love with another, will craft some of the most fantastic, loud and rambunctious work, while also taking moments of elegant poise, and charmingly stumbling between the two along the way. Such a scene was set and displayed with jubilant wonder by the couple that graced San Francisco with their presence for two separate nights: literary and screen writer Neil Gaiman, author of American Gods, Stardust and Coraline; and his wife, mindbending songmistress Amanda Palmer, the frontwoman of The Dresden Dolls.
Just about two weeks shy of one year ago today, a hotly rumored about Wild Flag embarked on their first tour. Nobody new what to expect. Yes, we knew what the pieces were, and most of the people in this band have played together before. As we know from history, without even a single note on a myspace page, they managed to sell out every venue they played along the west coast, melting faces off in each town. This time the band has done some of the more traditional things, like put out a record. (Mind you, one of the best reviewed records of 2011, the self titled Wild Flag) On this chilly November night, the good people of San Francisco were treated to their second ever dosing of Wild Flag. If you weren’t in attendance, which was a rather silly decision to make, after the jump, I will tell you what you missed.
With a musical movement like metal, being significant, staying relevant, and still having room to experiment while perfecting your craft is always a difficult combination of skills to possess. The genre calls for solid commitment to unyielding volume, viciously downtuned notes and hellish distortion, with vocals that span from the powerful to the deranged, and lyrics that cross a general spectrum of darkness, mayhem, and more-than-mild discontent. To introduce any additional elements into this equation makes a solution extremely difficult to arrive at, but for the Atlanta metal masterminds of Mastodon, experimentation is simply the bolt of lightning that breathes life into their compositions, which have not at all dwindled in their ferocity from album to album.
