Category: Rock ‘n’ Roll Photog

No comments

Postcards from the Orchestra: Tori Amos / Thomas Dybdahl, Beacon Theater, 12/3/2011

  By , ,

IMG_3150

 

The last time I saw Tori Amos in concert was, I am pretty sure, somewhere around 1996, not long after she released Boys for Pele. So I may not have recognized very many of the songs on Saturday, but I can tell you this: her voice has only grown more beautiful with time. And while she’s not as angry as she used to be, she has lost absolutely none of the raw power that made (makes) her great.

On this particular tour, which is in support of her new record Night of the Hunters, she’s expanded her stage show to include the Apollon Musagète string quartet, and the overall effect is really, really lovely. The tour is still going; she’s in Toronto tomorrow (12/8) and will be swinging westward from there. Go see her if you can.

 

Meanwhile, here are some pictures from the evening:

IMG_3077

IMG_3093

IMG_3087

IMG_3145

IMG_3122

IMG_3103

IMG_3106

 

This one is from when she got up to talk to us, briefly, at the end, and is included at least in part because i really love her dress. It is my favorite color (red and sparkly!) and, though you can’t see it here, came with a bubble-y cape-like thing on the back. It was dramatic and beautiful and perfect.

 

IMG_3169

 

And finally a few of Thomas Dybdahl, the singer/songwriter from Norway who opened the show. He has a lovely voice, a finely tuned sense of humor, and he got the Beacon Theater to sing with him on one chorus, which was awesome.

 

IMG_3071

IMG_3070

IMG_3064

2 Comments

Now Read This: 33 Days – Touring In A Van. Sleeping On Floors. Chasing A Dream., by Bill See

  By ,

When I came to the end of this book, I closed the back cover slowly, and rested my fingertips on it, pulling myself back to the present while the the last image – Bill See, alone in a quiet house with his guitar amid a swirl of cables, contentedly working on songs while his loved ones sleep – slowly settled, and I thought, I really wish I could have gone to one of your shows.

But in 1987, the year Bill See and his band Divine Weeks set off on what was truly an epic adventure, I was too young and on the wrong coast to participate in their rock and roll journey. Reading his account of it now is almost, but not quite, as good as being there must have been.

But I suppose I should back up a little bit and perhaps start over. The year, as I mentioned, was 1987. The place was Los Angeles, where Bill See, Rajesh “Raj” K. Makwana, George Edmondson, Dave Smerdzinski, aka Divine Weeks, a decidedly not glam band (See describes them as “musically [close] to The Who at Woodstock by way of early R.E.M” but ideologically more akin to The Minutemen) have decided, separately and together, that it is time to quit fooling around, rent a van, and take their locally successful show on the road for the very first time. (Their friend Ian Bader came along as road manager.)

33 Days Touring in a Van. Sleeping on Floors. Chasing A Dream. is the story of the barfights, broken strings, breakdowns (van and human), accidental acid trips, encounters with yuppies, skeevy promotors, sojourns in brothels, romantically gifted sound men, pantsless DJs, and other moments terror and rock and roll bliss that followed.

The text is based on a journal See kept during the trip and is written in present tense, which took me a page or two to adjust to, but, once I did, I was entranced.

I  hit the highlights of some of the stories above, but in addition to all of that there were several little moments that made me smile, and possibly actually clap my hands with recognition and glee, like when they saw their video on 120 Minutes, or the time in Portland where they opened for the Dharma Bums and afterwards Jeremy Wilson told Bill See all about a really shy kid named Kurt Cobain who was starting a band up in Aberdeen, Washington, and also the time in Kansas City they played a show with the Flaming Lips and Wayne Coyne shared some of his far-out ideas about what you can accomplish touring in a van. (Sadly, the substance of the ideas did not make it into the text.)

Also endearing were the parts where they grumbled about R.E.M. and the way they alternated between appreciating Jane’s Addiction and fighting about appreciating Jane’s Addiction. True story: Bill See was later asked to sing for Jane’s Addiction, and turned them down. Oh, how the world might have been different . . . !

It’s also worth noting here that  I’ve now read several autobiographies by musicians from bands that were active on the Sunset Strip in the late ’80s. I’m not going to make “real” and “fake” comparisons, because it all happened, and they are all real. But this book feels, for lack of a better term, the most human-sized, and – this might be cheesy, but oh well – it’s also the most inspirational.

It is as much a story of five dudes driving across the country in a van with some musical instruments, having the time of their lives and growing up in the process as it is a story of what can happen when you see an opportunity / the brass ring, and jump for it. You might catch it, you might fall down, you might catch it and then fall down, but you don’t know what will happen until you take the leap.

As See himself puts it in his introduction: “This book is for everyone who’s stood at their crossroads with a dream screaming inside wondering whether to choose the road that goes off the map or fold up their tent and head back home.”

In summary: A truly excellent tale of one bands first tour, which should be required reading for any kid with an instrument and a dream. \m/\m/ (two sets of metal fingers out of two)

And now, here is some audio-video illustration. Here is the band on Day 25, in Saint Louis, with a brief interview, Idiot Child (which was written for Jim Carroll), and Sympathy for the Devil:

http://youtu.be/Y7phE94RDVg

 

And here is Bitterness, playing over a series of still pictures of the band:

DIVINE WEEKS - BITTERNESS VIDEO

 

And finally Idiot Child live and not acoustic, from a reunion show in 2004:

http://youtu.be/7W7R2pM7RHo

One Comment

I Will Be Your Light Inside the Dark: New London Fire, The Dirt The Blood The Faith

  By ,

Periodically people ask me what kind of music I like. My default answer is “big drums and dirty bass lines,” but now that I’ve spent some (more) time listening to current offerings in the field of country/Americana I have to add “fiddle and pedal steel.” The Dirt The Blood The Faith, the third and latest (out on vinyl as of yesterday, also available on iTunes!) record from New London Fire, combines all four of my favorite elements.

I’m especially fond of the thudding at the heart of Until the Light Goes Out On Me (turn it up, it’ll rattle your bones in the best possible way), the sweet shimmer of high silvery sound that floats through Arizona, The Jungle, and Ain’t Wagin’ War, and the low, aggressive thrum that slowly expands to a roar in title track The Dirt The Blood The Faith.

New London Fire are: David Debiak, Jon Lam, and D. James Goodwin and they are, collectively, from both Asbury Park, NJ and Woodstock, NY. (D. James Goodwin also produced the record, in his studio in Woodstock.) It’s worth noting here that New London Fire has not always been an Americana band; they actually started out closer to the Britpop end of the spectrum. I did a quick skim through their back catalog, and I can tell you that while this record is technically a whole new direction, it doesn’t sound like that much of a bizarre left turn. It’s more a possibly abrupt but still logical evolution of form.

Old NLF fans, if you’re puzzled and/or concerned, be at ease. They’ve swapped out some instruments but the carefully crafted melodies and sing-along choruses are still there. Those of you who are new to their charms and are now squinting at your screens thinking Britpop??: this record is good. It’s more western than country, it has solid pop-rock underpinnings, and you should put it on and crank it up.

As evidence, I present two videos. The first one is for their first single, The Other Side of Town:

 

And the second, made in the studio, is for Rise:

 

 

Their other big upcoming project is collaborating with New York Times reporter and novelist Bassey Etim to produce a soundtrack for Etim’s multi-platform novel The God Project which will feature hip-hop infused remixes of songs from The Dirt The Blood The Faith. They are all going to be hitting the road together this winter. I’ll keep you posted as events develop!

Or, for more immediate news bulletins, you can subscribe to them on Facebook and Twitter.

One Comment

Ships Sail Past My Heart: Rhubarb Whiskey, Cautionary Tales

  By ,

Photo by Flip Cassidy

Rhubarb Whiskey are Boylamayka Sazerac (Oakland Wine Drinkers Union, Subincision; vocals, guitar, upright bass, mandolin, metal chain, railroad spike on accordion case) Emchy (Vagabondage, Oakland Wine Drinkers Union; vocal, accordion, clapping, musical saw mallet on spice jar) and Sizzle La Fey (The Sweet Trade; fiddle, mandolin, whiskey bottle). They are from San Francisco, and Cautionary Tales is their first full length release.

It is aptly named, as it is jammed full of blood- and whiskey-soaked tales, such as Banks of the Ohio and Birch Bones, both of which are far too bouncy to be called murder ballads. Murder gavottes, maybe, or murder hooligan’s jigs.1

There’s also Bears in the Lot, which is an extremely entertaining meditation on the perils of losing bets and drinking in Alaska, and Whiskey Neat which is mainly about the joys of drinking whiskey, pretty girls and narrowly avoided bar fights. But my favorite song, the one I have been listening to somewhat, er, obsessively, is We All Come to the Same Place.

It’s a song about chosen family; for me, it’s the song I would (will probably) put at the end of a mixtape for a new friend, or lover, to say: this is sound of my ravens rising and soaring over the frozen lake, wing to wing, and my swallows, descending after a long journey home; this is the song of the travelers lantern always kept burning on my porch, for loved ones, and because I, too, often take flight, and need the light in the distance to call me home; these are my people, this is my tribe, and we are the wandering, traveling kind.

Here is a live version, recorded at the Starry Plough in Berekeley, CA:

 

http://youtu.be/WxZbrDLfa6k

 

And if after reading all of that, you would like a strong drink, Rhubarb Whiskey can help you out there as well, for the name of the band refers to an actual drink.

For those of you who have ever tasted raw rhubarb2 and are now thinking Rhubarb and whiskey? Together? But I like having tastebuds!, know that I had the same concern, and inquired how it was possible to drink such a thing and not expire of acute bitterness. It turns out there is a secret ingredient.

Not so secret anymore, though, since below you will find the Official Recipe for Rhubarb Whiskey, courtesy of (and created by) Emchy:

Official Recipe
Rhubarb Simple Syrup
1 cup sugar
1 cup water
1 cup peeled and chopped rhubarb
Boil 1 cup of water, add 1 cup sugar, stir until sugar is completely dissolved, add 1 cup coarsely chopped and peeled rhubarb, lower water to a simmer, let simmer covered for one hour. Put into glass mason jar to cool and then refrigerate. Let sit at least one hour (a full day is better for flavor).

Once your rhubarb simple syrup is cool, add one part syrup to two parts rye whiskey (brand of your choice but don’t go too high end, that insults the whiskey and brings bad luck — we suggest Beam Rye or Makers if you need to get a little fancy). 1-3 ice cubes recommended. Now put on your favorite murder ballads album, drink up, and be careful — it goes down a little too easy.

1 The Hooligan’s Jig was a set dance I encountered at ceilidhs put on by the Cecilian Society at the University of Glasgow, while I was there. It’s not so much a set dance as it an endurance test. Basically you line up two rows of couples and then spend 10 (or more) diizzying minutes running through sets that involve swinging your partner, trading partners, and swinging some more. It’s tremendous fun, especially if you’re dancing with a large group of people who treat ceilidh dancing as a contact sport.

2 My grandmother had rhubarb growing in her backyard – wild or planted, I don’t know, but it was mixed in with asparagus – and I took a nibble of a stalk one afternoon, expecting it to be sweet, like rhubarb pie. It wasn’t; in fact it is still in among the top five unhappy food surprises I have ever had.

3 Comments

Postcards from the Pit: Patrick Stump, Starland Ballroom, NJ, 11/4/11

  By , , ,

To the left, in the snazzy teal suit: Patrick Stump, formerly of Fall Out Boy. To the right, on the bass, Matthew Rubano, formerly of Taking Back Sunday. Also present are Michael Day on guitar, and Casey Benjamin (HEAVy) on keys and saxophone. (Skoota Warner of Ra is playing drums on the tour, he’s just not in this picture.)

Patrick Stump and friends – technically this is a solo tour for him – were the second of three acts in the show I went to last Friday. The  first opener was Foxy Shazam, the headliner was Panic! at the Disco, and I’ll get to back to them later. First I have to tell you that how Mr. Stump and his merry crew put on a defiant, triumphant, raucous roller-coaster ride of a show. I was actually really surprised at some of the pictures I was able to get, given the way the pit was heaving.

Like this one, for example:

IMG_2808

The set started with a snippet of Bowie’s “Let’s Dance”, which essentially set the tone from the evening. (We were jammed in too tight to really dance, but there was definitely a great deal of enthusiastic jumping up and down.) The rest of the songs, with the exception of a cover of “In the Air Tonight”, were drawn from Stump’s solo work, including both the Truant Wave EP and the more recent full length  Soul Punk.

His new, post-FOB sound is different than FOB – more synths, less thundering drums – and has soul, funk, and dance-pop elements. The  lyrics with sharp, sharp edges are the same though. For example, on Soul Punk there is Run Dry (X Heart X Fingers) a bouncy up-tempo number that is at least in part about hitting an alcohol-fueled rock bottom, and The “I” in Lie, a soulful meditation on infidelity.

On the other hand, there is also This City, a mostly-sweet pop hymn to both the bright and dark sides of Chicago, Stump’s home town, and Coast (It’s Gonna Get Better) the theme of which is “you may think things are screwed up now, but hang in there, it’s going to get better.” (My favorite, to my own bittersweet bemusement, is Bad Side of 25, because I do actually remember Chernobyl and a time when there were two Germanys.)

Anyway, here are some more pictures from his set:
 

IMG_2833Conducting the pit

 

IMG_2867The photopit in front of me suddenly (and briefly) cleared . . .

 

IMG_2878Drum solo! (I promise he’s in there.)

 

IMG_2890Matthew Rubano and the double-bass keytar.

 

The Panic! tour is winding down now, but Stump will be playing more shows this winter, and if you can catch him, you should. Now, as for the rest of the evening: Foxy Shazam and Panic! at the Disco were as fabulous as ever.  I’ll leave you with a couple of pictures from their set(s):

 

IMG_2746Eric Nally and Sky White

 

IMG_2773Alex Nauth; sadly, his fabulous furry boots are hidden behind the monitor.

 

IMG_2785Eric Nally, Loren Turner (guitar), and Eric Nally’s light-up cowboy hat.

 

IMG_2797Sky White, with Daisy and his bass in the background.

 

IMG_2983Brendon Urie, during Always.

 

IMG_2941Fierce Brendon Urie is fierce!

 

IMG_2925Dallon Weekes on the keyboard

 

IMG_2959My attempt at getting both the still-pogoing pit and the band at the same time. I promise there are many many arms waving in that inky darkness on the left.

 

IMG_2998A good whole-band shot, as they were winding down.

One Comment

Buy A Gun or Go To Memphis: Gary Hunn and the wayward angels, Dust & Gin

  By

Readers, I have a confession: the person in charge of NTSIB’s ReviewShine account is me. And when I’m going through submissions I generally tend to scroll up to the top of the list, press play and then let it roll, as if it was the radio. When a songs pops up that gets my attention, then I’ll dig deeper and see if I like the whole record.

A couple of weeks ago, it was Buy a Gun or Go To Memphis by Gary Hunn and the wayward angels that made me stop and say “Who is that?” out loud to my computer:

 

http://youtu.be/HIM_t4H7HM4

 

I’m not sure if the question of “Death or Graceland?” has ever been posed in quite that way before, but in any case, I did go and listen to the rest of the record to see what other gems might be lurking. And there are several; I’m especially fond of Broken Lives are Mended Here and Breathe As You Go, but in general, if you like old-school honky tonk music with piano and pedal steel, this is a record for you.

The biggest surprises came when I went to find out where Hunn was from and what else he’d done. I had somewhat arbitrarily filed him under “Tennessee” because of both his accent, musical style, and the Graceland reference, but it turns out he’s actually from Magnetic Island, which is five miles offshore of the city of Townsville in Queensland, Australia. Furthermore, this is his first country record, though not his first musical venture; he has previously spent some time in the world of blues and garage rock.

If you like what you’ve heard so far, you can get Dust & Gin from Amazon, iTunes, or, if you prefer a hard copy, from Mr. Hunn himself. If you need additional enticement, here’s one more song for the road:

 

Gary Hunn - Broken Lives Are Mended Here

No comments

Light Show Video: This is Halloween, Marilyn Manson

  By

I love this song. I especially and unironically love this particular version of it. Sometimes that Manson growl hits the spot. And the light show here, filmed last year in California according to the YouTube notes, is a thing of beauty and a joy forever.

On that note, special warning to epileptics: you may want to skip this one, or listen to it with the visuals stashed safely behind another tab.

Everyone else: enjoy the d00m, gl00m, and amazing blinky lights.

Happy Halloween, y’all.

Halloween Light Show 2010 HD - This is Halloween ( Marilyn Manson )

No comments

Video: It’s Almost Halloween, Panic! at the Disco

  By

Last year NTSIB-friend Joy and I went up to Poughkeepsie to celebrate Gothic Christmas with the Felice Brothers and Titus Andronicus; this year I’m headed even further north to visit with Panic! at the Disco and Foxy Shazam.

And so in honor of one of my favorite holidays, I present to you Panic’s Halloween video, which they made themselves while on tour, back in 2008, before Ryan Ross and Jon Walker left the band. It’s perhaps a little bit bittersweet to watch now, but mostly sweet, and their attempt at boy-band style synchronized dancing will always be hilarious.

Panic! At The Disco: It's Almost Halloween

No comments

I Don’t Feel Like I’m Dying Anymore: 13ghosts, Liar’s Melody

  By

13ghosts, of Birmingham, Alabama, is now 4 piece, with Brad Armstrong at the helm on lead vocals and guitar, Sammy Boggan on bass, A. Vernon as multi-instrumentalist, and Jason Lucia on drums.

13ghosts has, as a band, endured a good deal: the early loss of a founding member, multiple line-up changes, and having a record (Cicada, their third) pulled because of copyright problems. Their last offering, The Strangest Colored Lights, was released in 2008, and then they took a little break.

Brad Armstrong briefly joined the Dexateens and spent some time touring the countryside; Jason Lucia played drums for FisherGreen; the others rattled around their day jobs.

Then the Dexateens decided they also needed a little rest, and Armstrong gathered the ‘ghosts back together to make their fifth record: Liar’s Melody.

It’s a “where are they now” record, and judging by the music, where they are now is a pretty good place. The songs are alternately aggressive – the first song, Water, Rise, starts with what I can only call a buzz-saw of a bluesy riff – sweet, and filthily reflective, but they are all thrumming with life.

I am particularly fond of the delicate finger picking and complicated poetry of the title track, and of I Was Happy, the song which provided the title of this post. It’s a extended reflection on the gradual awareness of no longer being miserable or, perhaps more accurately, of having learned to accept and enjoy happiness. It’s wry and funny and lovely, and all y’all should listen to it.

At this time Liar’s Melody is only available digitally from This Is American Music, though a limited run of cds will be released in the near future. You can keep up with the ghosts via the TIAM tumblr.

Meanwhile, here they are with “Born to Rock n’ Roll”:

2 Comments

Et Voilà: Taisez Moi, Didier Wampas

  By

Didier Wampas, of Les Wampas, has put out his first solo record. It is called Taisez Moi which, from what I can gather translates as either “Shut Me” or “Quiet Me”, and it is delightful.

It’s also really, really different from Les Wampas‘ sound. The catchy melodies are still there in force, but the big crunchy riffs and reverb have given way to a lighter, surfier, clap-along vibe.

I’m still working on parsing the lyrics – I don’t speak any more French now than I did before – but so far I’m particularly enjoying La propriété c’est du vol (Property is Theft) which is actually a love song on the theme of “I don’t want anything but you”; La folle de Marvejols (The Wild Marvejols) which I don’t (yet) know what it’s about but it has lovely orchestral elements; and Les framboises dorées (The Golden Raspberries), the bonus track on the iTunes version of the album, which has a great sing-along chorus.

Also, for all of you (other) fans of Ryan Ross (The Young Veins, Panic! at the Disco) out there: he played guitar on this record, and also contributed some back-up vocals to, as best I can tell right now, Eternellement, Chanteur de droite and Les framboises dorées.

And now, here is Didier Wampas with Magique, or as I think of it, the slow dance at the sock hop song: