OK, VW’s style of yuppy infused, ivy league brand of indie rock can be a bit irritating to the blue collar masses. I don’t really identify with summering in Cape Cod and can be a little put-off by world music influences for the sake of seeming culturally aware, but for a brief moment Vampire offered something a little different, something new and it was kind of fun . .. for a while.
With only the House of Blues in Lake Buena Vista and BackBooth offering worse audience viewing perspectives, Firestone was packed and offering the only position I seem to ever feel like attaining – the entrance by the door. “Cape Cod Kwassa Kwassa” is nearly drowned out by the undeservedly large crowds personal discussions. That’s what happens when A) You don’t really rock and B) Your music has found its way onto the iPods of douchebags.
“A Punk”
“Walcott” I really can’t relate to the feeling of just having to get out of Cape Cod. Sorry.
“One (Blake’s Got A New Face)” I really can’t relate to a guy named Blake either. What is it with these yuppy fucks?
I was never into M. Ward. I never understood what he was all about, but I never really took the time to investigate. He keeps company with all the right people: Yo La Tango, Jenny Lewis, My Morning Jacket and Neko Case, to name a few collaborators. Enter: Zooey Deschanel. I wasn’t sure who she was either – name sounded familiar. Whatever obscurity they shared independently in my narrow view was obliterated with the formation of their joint effort, She and Him.
Volume One is a wonderful collection of music. Deschanel‚Äôs voice is fragile, haunting, and versatile throughout the album. Although one can hear the jazz crooner within her on every song ‚Äì especially ‚ÄúTake it Back‚Äù ‚Äì she moves comfortably from ’60s/’70s pop in the vein of Carole King (as in ‚ÄúSentimental Heart‚Äù and ‚ÄúThis is not a Test‚Äù) to the Patsy Cline-ish ‚ÄúChange is Hard.‚Äù Deschanel‚Äôs angelic voice brings an elegant charm and whimsy to M. Ward‚Äôs dignified, low-fi production.
“Why Do You Let Me Stay Here?” is my early frontrunner for the best song of 2008. The simple, driving melody accompanied by the Spector-ish hugeness of Zooey’s echoed voice and wall-of-sound approach to her own back-up vocals make an undeniable pop gem which begs to be heard over and over. Volume One is a sweet surprise, Ward and Deschanel seemingly come out of nowhere with a brilliant soundtrack for spring.
Incredible band, great show, dazzling lights, and a craptacular venue. Plopped next to I-4 like a highway restroom and situated between scattered rural housing, it took only one concert at The Ford Amphitheater before locals complained about  noise.  In response, the venue turned it down. Way down. If you are not on the floor the concerts are at about conversation volume. A few loud discussions in your vicinity and the show is overpowered. Lame.
Radiohead, amidst cascading LED tubes tore through a widely varied set list with vigor.
Langerado was not in the cards for me this year so I took solace in the fact I could see Vampire Weekend and the new Blind Melon in intimate venues.  As reported here, VW cancels to play to a captive audience of millions…jerks, but the better band was to crush the tiny Back Booth in downtown Orlando.
I had reservations, as anyone would, which concerned Shannon Hoon’s replacement. Shannon Hoon’s presence is unmistakable and a key part to Melon’s sound, but the band is far too good to be held back without him. They have an incredible rhythm section. Glenn Graham and Brad Smith are amazing – tight jazzy and funky – and lay the backbone for some of the most innovative guitar work of the 90’s. Rogers Stevens and Christopher Thorn, weave their 70’s Saturday morning cartoon fuzz-sound in and out of each other creating truly impressive melodies as good as Keith Richards and Ronnie Wood ever did (Yes, I said that). Independently the guitars are creative, intricate works of swirling chord progressions, but together they make Blind Melon.
I remember standing outside The Edge in Orlando when Blind Melon opened for Lenny Kravitz because I couldn’t get tickets. Then cursing myself for missing the show I pledged to drive to Cocoa when they were playing a fair or festival 2 years later in 95. Shannon died in New Orleans 2 weeks before they returned.
Now, 13 years later, I would see one of my favorite bands. The show started early and I missed the first song or two. I entered during “Galaxie” and was instantly struck with chills as the vocals poured around the corner before I could see the stage from the double doorways by the bar, “And your givin’ me, a hated identity-y.” Eerie and magical it seemed like the ghost of a band long gone reaching across planes of being and throttling my collar.
The music was impeccable as they tore through classics like “Paper Scratcher,” “Drive,” and “The Pusher.” What was more impressive is Travis Warren’s voice, powerful, sad, and gravelly. Like seeing the Tennessee 3, Blind Melon presented the same paradox of closing your eyes during a song and daring you to think it could possibly be anything but the original. What is great is that it is not a carbon copy or weak imitation but a perfect fit. Where Shannon almost sounds fragile or vulnerable (that being part of the charm), Travis possessed the same sound with much more ferocity and power. There were rock moments of fierce howling and guttural screaming that shook the walls of the small bar. The crowd seemed to share my opinion with constant remarks around me like, “holy shit” and “wow!” The new material was impressive too as they peppered them in between older tunes. The audience sang nearly every word with the force of a much larger crowd. Warren summed it up best saying, “I’m not here to replace Shannon, nobody can. I am here to keep this great band going.”
Article originally appeared in REAX # 23, April 8 2008
Possibly the most overlooked band of the ‘90s has made its triumphant return. The Elevator Drops are back with the release of OK Commuter, a flexing, grooving, power pop gem. True to form, TED create a swirling haze of sonic joy that is both classic and innovative and, as with previous releases, completely beneath the radar.
THE BEST BAND YOU NEVER HEARD OF!
To re-cap: Boston’s The Elevator Drops birthed their Devo meets Zeppelin meets Bowie future glam pop in 1996 with the release of Pop Bus and followed up in ’97 with People Mover. Both are stellar, grandiose albums that feel as if they could be released next year. I compare them to powerhouse acts like Tool, Smashing Pumpkins, and Radiohead (no, I’m not joking) in that, at the core they are a great band with solid songs, but possess a gift for using production to flush out a number, elevating it with their unique sonic signature. TED was on Time Bomb records, probably a major reason for their obscurity.  Now they re-emerged on San Francisco indie label Plastigas. The Drops were able to parlay a small cult audience with the energy and overwhelming volume of their live shows.  In the 10-year hiatus they kept working with several side/solo projects including The Rentals and the excellent, but mostly discarded, The Texas Governor.
OK Commuter sees the return of Goolkasian (bass, vocals) a.k.a. Tone Source 1, Garvy J (guitar) a.k.a. Tone Source 2, and FITTS (drums) a.k.a. Tone Source 3 in top form. They continue the tradition of incredible drumming, powerful guitar, cool bass lines, and hooky synth loops piled on top of each other in an elaborate web, which in the end produces undeniable power rockers.
Despite their notorious bombast they open OK Commuter with the slow, almost yearning “Hello,” but this serves as a build-up to full form. The next song, “Shake It” continues the upward momentum with more of the pop nuance they are renowned for. Replete with comping piano lines, hazy guitar, do-do-do-do’s and electro back beat that builds until a real drum kit takes over, “Shake It” glimpses the modern Drops. “Jules” begins the heavy grandeur and the album completely takes off, never looking back by the clever changing “Catastrophe.” The hook-laden “Christmas Song” transitions from an acoustic intro to catchy synth pop Рa la The Cars Рand slides gracefully into heavy guitar and back displaying all their talents at once.
Bottom line: Do your ears a favor and find a way to own this album. Do your hipster friends a service by being the first one on the block to blow your windows out with this album and sing the well deserved praises of The Elevator Drops.
Article originally appeared in REAX #22, March 2008
“Be a Lemonhead / Beautiful Junkie” from 94′s Pop Bus
I am continually blown away by The Pumpkin’s (Billy and Jimmy) prolific nature. Shortly after the release of Zeitgeist comes American Gothic, an EP Corgan refers to as Zeitgeist +. Gothic is a short, but wonderful collection of acoustic music that continues the themes of Zeitgeist in contrast to the near neo-metal pummeling of the parent record.
When I learned of the acoustic recordings, I anticipated the quiet soulful reflections on much of Billy’s unreleased demo’s and b-sides, but was overjoyed to hear Jimmy’s explosive cadences ring in through the opening song, “Rose March.”
The album continues delicately with “Again, Again, Again (the Crux).” Once more, Jimmy Chamberlin persists his visceral thundering, beginning with rim shots and building to a swirling, fierce attack. JC is hands-down the best drummer alive (maybe ever, and I know my drummers) at being ridiculously over the top without crushing the song. His relentless bashing churns like an engine bringing life and dynamics to music that is already ostentatious. “Pox” carries on with a deep, heavy acoustic groove and the album finishes with the sweet “Sunkissed.”
All songs on this EP are clever, smooth, ethereal, and crisp. It is a fantastic follow-up to the alt-metal rage of Zeitgeist, continuing the pessimistic themes of the current U.S political and cultural state while embracing the renewed hope and energy of the band.
Article originally appeared in REAX #22, January 3 2007
The night began with troubles at the door. I guess my press credentials are somewhat suspect because my name apparently was not on the list. Now I don’t want to point any fingers – huh-hum cough REAX cough! Whoo! -Excuse me. Finally, thanks to the superior customer service of Club Firestone’s stellar managing partner, Mike Feinberg, I was able to experience the Wu.
I missed DJ Kittybat’s set, surely a crowd pleaser and perfect match for this show. Regrettably, I was able to see Black-182′s – sorry I mean Whole Wheat Bread’s – set in its entirety. Although I dig their energy and their “I Love Black People” T-shirt is one of the best merch items I ever saw, I was completely over re-hashed inoffensive neo-Green Day mall punk before it was invented.
The Wu took their sweet time, taking the stage sometime after 11:30. Prior complaints I boasted about hip-hop shows rang true. Poor sound and a poor mix lead to a bungled, bass heavy yell fest. The cool laid back flow of Method Man and the trademark nasal attack of Ghosty were all but lost. Moreover, Wu Tang’s unique, elaborate, layered textures of loops, beats and samples – their stony musical charm – was washed away in a sea of thudding low-end dissonance. Feedback and volume issues plagued the bakers-dozen of performers who passed mics like batons at a relay race throughout the entire set trying to find one that worked. The WTC should really be RZA, Method, Ghostface Killah, Raekwon and maybe Cappadonna just because of ODB’s earthly departure. The full crew is superfluous overkill, draining efficacy from the star performers.
That being said, no one can argue the star power and crowd rousing abilities of this experienced NYC crew. Despite audio issues, the crowd was pumped, eating out of WTC’s hands, especially Method Man. The hour and a half performance turned into the Method Man show. He was taunting and baiting the audience, climbing on speaker stacks, getting beers from the bar, crowd surfing and standing upright on top of the crowd as they moved through mostly classic Wu tunes such as “M-E-T-H-O-D Man,” “Bring Da Ruckus,” “Protect Ya Neck,” and “C.R.E.AM” mostly avoiding 8 Diagrams material (some of which I was anticipating). Another highlight was the tribute to Ol’ Dirty Bastard with a medley of hits including ‚ “Shimmy Shimmy Ya” with ODB’s brother 12 o’clock. I tipped my foe-tee in his memory and wondered what it would be like on that cramped stage with the kinetic, unpredictable ODB there as well.
Article originally appeared in REAX #21, February 9 2007
“M-E-T-H-O-D Man” Live
Method Man walks on the crowd at Firestone
“Shimmy Shimmy Ya” part of Ol’ Dirty Bastard tribute
There are times when music can change your life, change the world even. The Beatles played the rooftop of the Apple Building, then there was Woodstock, and for a while … nothing. Then, on December 19th 2007, the world gaped in amazement as the last walls between the past and the future, between enslavement and liberty, between dogs and cats, between what people considered music before and what was defined that evening were obliterated – forever – by 5 people (rock gods) with a vision:
“When the Lights go Out” – The Black Keys (sorry)
(end of) “Helter Skelter” – The Beatles (really, really sorry)
“Your Touch” – The Black Keys (again)
“Add it Up” (Me screwing up Violent Femmes brushwork on drums)
