• Rock

    Another Gem From Kelly and the Lads

    It took seven months but the fine folks at Island/Mercury finally released the new Stereophonics album here in the US. Being the absolute geek for the lads from Cwmaman, Wales, I naturally sprung for the import, released last November in the UK, and have been dazzled by it for the last six months. Now that it’s stateside, I highly recommend snagging it. Every track is fantastic and the eternally mythical Kelly Jones has outdone himself yet again on their latest effort. In all the ways that matter, it is a perfect summation of their career and an excellent starting point for people who have never heard the band.

    The album opens with “She’s Alright”, another tale of an alcohol soaked encounter with a crazed member of the opposite sex. Coming from Kelly, these are always entertaining and, for me, quite serendipitous. Then we have the single, “Innocent”, a track reminiscent of the Language Sex Violence Other era. “Beer Bottle” is the third track and one of my faves. Kelly tells stories about working people that get to the very heart of the human condition and this track is a perfect example of melancholy triumph. “Trouble” is a straight on rocker that really sparkles and “Could You Be The One” is a crush-my-heart wonderful ballad. Every single thing you do is magic baby…every little thing that you do is cool, Kelly sings and we all think of that person that warmly clothes us with this feeling.

    “I Got Your Number” is a nice, angry one to be played LOUD.  “Uppercut” reminds me of early ‘phonics and could easily be on Word Gets Around. In fact, each track could easily fit on one of the previous six albums style-wise, which is why I say that this record is a nice summation. “Live N Love”, with its “Helter Skelter”-ish opening, has that 70s soaked feel of “You Gotta Go There To Come Back”, as does “100MPH”,  which could easily be a thematic and stylistic sequel to “Maybe Tomorrow”.

    “Wonder”, a sister song to “Dakota”, is just fucking cool and gorgeous…instantly creating nostalgia for times that never were, and regretful introspection for times long forgotten. “Beer Bottle” and this one are the best on the disc. “Stuck In A Rut” has cool soul feel and “Show Me How”, another instant classic ballad from Kelly, closes out the album with a hopeful tone.

    I always laugh when NME releases their requisite ass-reaming of each new Stereophonics release (they will never forgive Kelly for Mr. Writer). I love and worship that magazine but they are way wrong about the lads from Cwmaman. Kelly’s voice is the very essence of rock and roll…whiskey, smoke, sex, and love…all wrapped up in stories you’d hear in a workingman’s pub.

    That’s just how it fookin’ should be!

  • Indie

    You Just Do: The xx at the Varsity in Minneapolis

    With the big acts of my summer concert series set (Simon and Garfunkel, Tom Petty and U2), I was lamenting not jumping immediately at the chance of buying tickets for a smaller show in the form of The xx at the Varsity. I should have guessed that this emo, shoegazy band would sell out in less than a day in my emo, shoegazy home town of Minneapolis.

    So, I poked around online to see what tickets were going for….75 dollars for a 25 dollar ticket! Great Scott!!!! I had more or less given up on going but then a phone call came about a week before the show. My friends Jeremy and Rea had an extra ticket and it was mine if I so desired. Mega.

    We met up at the Loring Pasta Bar for pre-show conversation and then headed over to the venue at about 10:30pm. The xx were scheduled to go on at 11pm. The Varsity was packed but there as still plenty of space in the middle of the floor.  As we watched the alarmingly sucky warm up band (a female performer named JJ who sang to pre-recorded tracks with a video of herself striking pretentious poses in the background), I thought about how different The xx are compared to the other bands I like.

    They are very sparse..almost hollow. I usually like lush sounds and a chorus of vocals. The guitar work is quite simplistic and they mostly use programmed drums. Yet their music betrays both a haunting isolation and a tender caress of comfort which I always thoroughly enjoy in my music. Take the lyrics to “VCR”:

    “Watch things on VCRs with me…And talk about big love…I think we are superstars…You say you think we are the best thing…But you, you just know…You just do…”

    This is EXACTLY what I look for when I listen to music..an illustration of intimacy that stirs a commonality. How many of us out there have felt like this before? Knowing someone who just gets you…without even saying a word. It’s magnificent. These were the thoughts and feelings that were comforting me as the first song began.

    They opened, not surprisingly, with “Intro” and as they did, the white curtain in front of the stage kept the band hidden from us. Flickering lights bounced their shadows all over the venue. At the conclusion of the song, the curtain dropped to reveal the band-all dressed in black.

    It was interesting to watch the audience, clearly revved up with excitement, try to make sense of how to cheer for the methadone-like tunage. The xx’s songs just aren’t mosh pit ready. They are sewn from a different quilt – one of introspection and quiet solitude. The song “Shelter” is a perfect example of this and one of the two best tracks of the night. The other was, of course, was “Islands.”

    The song “Islands” will always be my favorite xx song. It’s a metaphor for all the wonderful aspects of romance. Romy sings by herself first – then she sings with Oliver – then they sing together, all they while backed by a happy-skippy melody and beat. I fell into that Bogart-Bergman in Casablanca dream when they sang:

    “I am yours now…so I now I don’t ever have to leave…I’ve been found out…so now I’ll never explore.”

    The dim lights and the red velvet of the Varsity really made my mood sublimely sanguine in the most exquisite of ways and that dreamer in me that I love so much was transported to a million worlds, known and unknown, across all of time itself.

    Check out The xx’s tour page for their latest shows.

  • Soul

    I Still Really Really Love You…

    The sweat is pouring off of me even though the air conditioner is humming away right above my head. It’s the end of July and I’m in Southern Illinois. Murphysboro to be exact. I’m sprawled out on my dad’s couch watching MTV. As the videos roll before my entranced eyes, music in the year 1984 is bursting to life. I see U2, R.E.M., Culture Club and the Police. I also see Yes, Billy Ocean, and the Thompson Twins. They all sound great. I close my eyes to really dig on the music. This is what I live for…

    A new song comes on that I have never heard. My eyes are still closed. I’m half delirious from the heat. It’s a slow samba beat, followed by a slinky bass, and then…a crush-my-heart wonderful saxophone. Then I hear her voice.

    She’s telling the story of a man. A man who is a world traveler who preys upon women – leaving a trail of broken hearts strewn about the earth. The tale is so compelling that even as I am sitting in a small southern town, I feel as though I am “coast to coast L.A. to Chicago” and “across the north and south to Key Largo.”

    I am a world traveler now and am bearing witness to these tragic, passion-soaked events over a martini and a game of Baccarat. This would be the power of music. It transports your mind, heart, and soul to faraway lands that lie outward and inward. It’s a sacred, holy power that in the hands of woman makes it truly blessed.

    In the hands of Sade Adu, it’s a monumental gift.

    From the day I first heard the song “Smooth Operator” (nearly 26 years ago) until the present, I have worshiped at the feet of this elegant woman. Her sultry voice with the slight Brit accent overwhelms with each new album release. The first two albums came rather quickly…in 1984 and 1985 respectively. Then we had to start waiting a little bit. Three years for the third (and best) album, Stronger Than Pride; four years for Love Deluxe; six years for Lover’s Rock, and now ten years for Soldier of Love.

    None of this matters, of course. I’d wait fifteen or twenty for the next one. They’re all filled with gorgeous music that rains kisses all over me. Each one has the ability to transport and transform a person – a rarity in music of any generation – and something to be embraced immediately. Her backing band (Stuart Matthewman, Paul Spencer Denman, Andrew Hale) have a lot to do with this fact. In addition to setting the scene and preparing us for the journey perfectly on each album, they fill in the long gaps between Sade releases with their own music: the fantastic Sweetback. The song “Mountain” on Sweetback’s second effort, Stage, should be at the top of the play list for any romantic evening.

    Honestly, ten years wait was well worth it considering how Soldier of Love grabs you immediately and just…captivates. The first track, “The Moon and The Sky” begins with a gentle flamenco guitar and then bursts to life with chill out power combined with a nod to the balance we find in the sacred feminine. Put on any chill out track from the last fifteen years, b to the w, and hear how ALL of them owe their muse to the goddess that is Sade Adu. Next up is the title track and I recommend listening to it while mulling the album cover. As a fellow soldier said when looking at the cover, “Her  right hand…”

    Mmm-hmm…

    As the rest of the album unfolds with her usual, cherished themes of faith, devotion, heartbreak, and loss, a new theme reverberates: hope. We hear it first in “Long Hard Road” and then again in “Bring Me Home.” I guess this idea isn’t all that new for her, though. She expressed an abundance of hope in the song “Love is Stronger Than Pride” and, quite honestly, it was more than that.

    She told us in that song that is was okay to capitulate to the wonder and terror of love. It was alright to be weak because with that kind of love weakness is actually a strength. This is that love that makes you stronger in all of the other relationships in your life. It’s relentless and it simply can’t be helped. There’s just too much, so it spills out to everyone. This is the power of your beloved. It represents a testament of hope for lovers everywhere that needs to be nourished forever.

    I am a Soldier of Love… are you?

    —

    Buy Soldier of Love [+digital booklet]

    Visit: Sade’s Official Site

  • Hip Hop

    But My Good Friends Is All I Need

    For the past few years, I have received many comments which basically come down to one central theme: It’s about time I started acting my age.

    I am 42 years old. But even when I was in my late thirties, many people around my age and even younger were surprised to hear that I still like to go shows at First Avenue. In fact, many of them were shocked that I left the comfort of my easy chair in front of the TV and (gasp) went out! Having fun with friends was even more shocking. That’s what younger folk do! I should just spend all of my time with my family. At first, I just sort of blew them off as being silly. Or perhaps lazy. Then I realized that our culture has essentially evolved into a mild variation on the 1976 film Logan’s Run.

    In the film, as soon as people reach the age of 30 they are liquidated. Of course, that does not literally happen in our culture. Yet, somehow…some way…some insane fucking bullshit way…we now live in a country where anyone that is 30 years or older is now Grandpa.

    HUH?

    We have always been a culture that looks at youth as being the center of all that is perfect. Ages 19-26 or so have always been considered the “best”  years. But now, anyone in this age range is to be worshiped as if they are Jesus Christ.  And, nauseatingly, they know it. In fact, a sort of “Mid-20s Mafia” has sprung up and once you are out of that age range, you are expected to marry, have children, and relinquish all youthful endeavors in your life. If you don’t do these things you are sneered at, jeered, vilified, and emotionally abused by the Mid 20s Mafia.

    When you turn 30, it’s time to be fitted for your coffin.

    If you continue to act as if you are still in that age range…see bands at clubs, have fun with friends out on the town, get drunk, high and spend all weekend fucking the crap out of someone you love…then you are gross according to the Mid 20s Mafia. And weird. Why? Because 30+ means Grandpa. And grandpa doesn’t do those things.

    Grandpa watches TV in his comfy chair. Grandpa listens to bad music such as Dave “Ass-Cock” Matthews. Grandpa rarely goes out and when he does, it’s to the cabin in the summer. Grandpa shouldn’t have any friends to go out with on the town. Going out at that age is “weird” since he should be home with his family. Any friends should be limited to those with whom he can gripe about mowing the lawn at the cabin over a beer at yet another (and seemingly never ending in a series) monumentally stilted social gathering at a fellow parent’s home. Those are the rules.

    I listen to Asher Roth’s song “I Love College” and I say fuck those rules. Fuck them hard. Not in a loving slide-the-cock-in-the-ass way. But in a colossal stick-it-to-the-man way.

    My first reaction upon hearing the song was actually slightly derisive. Doesn’t it represent the decay of our modern culture? And then I felt guilty for liking a song with this chorus.

    Man, I love college, ay!
    And I love drinking, ay!
    I love women, ay!
    Man, I love college

    Not exactly Lennon and McCartney.. But then I heard the line

    Drink my beer and smoke my weed…my good friends is all I need…

    and quickly realized that the song is not really about that. It’s about the simple fact that life is about fun and friendship. Everyone has a limited amount of time on this planet–some shorter than others–and turning into Grandpa at age 30 + is beyond a complete waste of that time. It’s insane. People shouldn’t be confined to only cutting loose in college. Starting your decay at such a young age is fucking ridiculous!!!

    Now, I want to be clear about something. I am NOT suggesting that people blow off work or school and party all the time. Even Asher, in the song, admits that he “needs to get to class” at the end. I am suggesting that people should stay young at heart. This is not to be confused with being immature which would include blowing off one’s obligations to themselves or the ones they love. It most certainly fucking DOES  include NOT living by someone’s (and by someone I mean people who have a ten foot pole up their ass) rigid vision for what all of us are “supposed” to be…at any age.

    I am begging all of you…and especially those in the Midwest where this problem is as prevalent as a fart (after a night of drinking) that hangs there forever…don’t become Grandpa. I don’t care how old you are. Don’t live by society’s social rules any longer. Stay out with your friends until 5am and then go get breakfast…on a Tuesday night. Drink several glasses of red wine, walk up to a girl/guy you don’t know, and tell them how fucking gorgeous they are and how you would like to kung fu their ass and make them come. Drink your beer and smoke your weed with your good friends. Tell them how much you love them and how important they are to you.

    While you are doing all of these things, play “I Love College” by Asher Roth at an extraordinarily loud volume and, as he says in the song, “dance your ass off.”

    Oh, and tell the local mortician that your coffin fitting can wait until…never.

  • Indie,  Rock

    Slayed by the Percussion Gun: White Rabbits in Minneapolis

    My uncle Jamie is a vocational therapist out in Salem, Oregon. A while back, he related to me the concept of risk and how it relates to developmental wellness. If someone is regularly taking emotional, mental, physical and spiritual risks, generally speaking, they are healthier people on a number of levels.

    This doesn’t mean necessarily that individuals should go jump off a cliff or rob a bank. It does mean that people should try to stretch themselves out in all four of these areas as frequently as they can. How far one stretches depends on the person. Saying “Red wine and clits go quite well together” to a group of people at a wine tasting is not much of a risk for me but it could be a huge one for someone else. Hell, in Minnesota simply saying “hi” to someone you don’t know is an emotional risk.

    Lately, I’ve noticed myself dragging a bit in the risk department. I started running again in the last year and plan on doing a 5K or two in the next month so I guess that’s something in the physical realm. And I’m still  my outspoken and opinionated self in regards to the topics of politics, sex, and religion which, in the land of rock granite rigidity, is a monumental risk on a number of levels. But I ALWAYS do that. I could hear my uncle’s voice in the background…”find something…take a risk.” For my entire life, I have always thought he was the coolest mother fucker (along with my dad of course) since James Dean so I was more than curious when an opportunity to take an emotional, mental, and spiritual risk…a substantially huge one considering who I am…arose.

    I was asked to see a band of whom I had never heard.

    Many of you may chuckle at this but for my entire life I have always been the one to dig on the cool, new bands first. I’m the one who cheerleads people into loving (insert Brit Rock band here) and goads people into going to shows with me. Invariably, they love the bands I suggest and I feel quite proud of myself. I led them to the Holy Land….

    So when my friend Paul asked me to see White Rabbits, I hesitated at first. “Where are they from?” I asked. “Well, they are based out of New York but I think they are originally from Chicago,” he answered. Hmph, I thought all grumbly, not from the UK.

    But I thought of my uncle and something inside of me told me to get a ticket and go. It would be an excellent emotional and mental risk to let someone else drive the Magical Mystery Tour bus for a change. And, since I am convinced that I am Holy Knight of Music, a spiritual risk as well. Perhaps Paul was a Holy Knight and I didn’t know it. He does have a good first name after all:)

    I decided to be really daring and not even bother to listen seriously to any of their music. I would not buy either of their CDs and go see the show completely cold. I found out it was at a venue to which I had never been: The Cedar Cultural Center, located in the West Bank area of Minneapolis. Ah yes, even more of a risk…an untested venue with potential sound issues. I did find out, though, much to my delight that the band got their start in Columbia, Missouri. My place of birth…cool! So New York by way of Chicago and Columbia…yeah, I could dig it.

    I found out that some other friends were going and, at the last minute, asked my friend Wendy to join. Wendy is an unbelievably cool chick (and accomplished artist) who loves all the same music I do. She had heard some of their songs and was keen to go. After spending an hour and half of cocktails and conversation over at the Cafe formerly known as the Riverside, my friends and I went into the CCC.

    I was struck immediately by how much the place looked like a junior high school gymnasium. Wendy remarked that was because of the piano. It had that 1950s school gym look.  We had timed it out just right so we arrived just before White Rabbits were about to go on. I have to admit I was nervous. What if they sucked? What if I got bored? Would I be just a total music snob around my friends if I didn’t like them? As the music started, all of my fears were washed away.

    To begin with, White Rabbits have two drummers, which can sometimes morph into three or four drummers as other members of the band set their respective instruments down and hit the skins. The primal pounding coursed through my veins. It was magnificent. This was not a granola drum circle barf fest. These fucking guys knew how to hit the skins and were so tight that THEY could be a metronome for a drum machine.

    They could also sing. Man, can these guys sing! I have three words for all of you: Four Part Harmony. And that’s with the relentless and cacophonous drumming going on! The blend of their voices reminded me a lot of the Beach Boys. As the set progressed and I watched the lead singer of the Spin Doctors look-alike (who may have been totally naked) make an asshat out of himself doing a pogo dance down in the pit, I realized that my risk had paid off. This band was fucking amazing. And my uncle, as he has mostly been his whole life, was right. Go through the looking glass, Alice, and there you will find…White Rabbits. Take risks and ye shall be rewarded.

    Rewarded with hearing the lead singer of White Rabbits, Stephen Patterson, sing the word “know” in the chorus of “Percussion Gun” and sticking it with such a herculean force that I was slayed. And reminded of a James Brown “HA!”  Rewarded with getting to experience a band live whose music I had never heard. Rewarded with a night of hilarity with friends.

    But most of all, being rewarded with letting myself go…not being the music know-it-all…not being the leader…not being in control.

    And loving every minute of it.

    White Rabbits – Percussion Gun (mp3)

    White Rabbits Official Site

  • Rock

    So Much World Outside The Door…

    “I’m going to die.”

    This is what I was thinking as I drove, barely 40 mph, east on Interstate 94 from my home in the Twin Cities to the party capital of the world.

    It was last Friday afternoon, October 23rd, and I was on my way to hang out with my friend George. He had called me up two months ago to inform me that Fran Healy and Andy Dunlap, of the Scot band Travis, were playing an intimate acoustic show at the Majestic Theater in Madison, Wisconsin. I was about to buy tickets for the show in Minneapolis when I decided it might be fun to trek down there and see them with a pal I had known for quite some time.

    George and I met on Day One of seventh grade. I had just started at a new school and walked into my home room. Sitting there, at a table by himself, was a somewhat dour looking George..also starting at a new school. I walked right up to him and said,

    “Hey, my name is Mark.”

    He looked at me warily and said, “mmm…George,” and shook my hand. That was September of 1979 and we have been great friends ever since.

    We have always been VERY into music over the years and have seen many great bands throughout the course of our friendship. In too many ways to tell here, the bands we listened to were the soundtrack to our lives and, on many occasions, quite literally saved us. George had never seen Travis and was especially amped to see them at the Majestic. He had been raving about the venue as being a great place to see shows because of how small it was. Was it ever!

    The Majestic Theater in Madison is only slightly larger than my finished basement. Even Fran, as he first came out on stage, wondered if he was in the right place. “Is this a town hall meeting for the borough of such and such?” he asked laughing. We all chuckled along but I certainly wasn’t laughing mere hours before.

    Mother Nature, in her North Woods infinite pranksterism, decided a blizzard on October 23rd might a fun thing. For nearly 45 miles, with my knuckles whiter than a sheet, I drove (slid) through blowing winds, sideways snow, and exit signs – every one of which seemed to read “Alma Center.” Changing lanes literally made my testicles recede into my body cavity as my car fish-tailed constantly. The hope, warmth, and love that what I knew was going to be a mega show was the only thing keeping me going. I imagined myself sipping a beer and hearing the voice of an angel.

    Just like that, I was there! And Fran was singing the first track of the night, “20.” He informed us straight away that this was going to be  a chronological journey through the Travis back catalog. In addition, he mixed a Powerpoint presentation and humor with each story he told before all of the songs in the set. “Falling Down” was inspired by the Michael Douglas film of the same name and…Joni Mitchell? During the song “Slide Show”, he and Andy literally showed one which included several pictures of the band and Paul Fucking McCartney, as the big red letters put it with an arrow pointing to Macca in a few of the snaps from over the years.

    When “Driftwood” started, George leaned over to me and said, “This is my favorite Travis song of all time.” Definitely one of my faves too, and it sounded wonderful in this quiet and intimate setting. About half way through the song, George put his arm around me and gave me the bromance, two pats on the back. George has never been the hugest fan of physical affection so I counted this as being quite extraordinary and felt very blessed. Dude…

    The rest of the set included “Sing”, “Side”, “Indefinitely”, “Love Will Come Through”, and “Closer”. Next up was “My Eyes”, which Fran dedicated to his son. Asking us not to take pictures during this song, he put up a few home pics of his boy and played the song with all of the love of a proud parent. “Big Chair”, one of my faves, was next and sounded magnificent. A new song called “Holiday” was played, which finished the set proper.

    Out for the encore, Fran asked us what we wanted to hear. Several people shouted “Battleships” and still more asked for “Hit Me Baby One More Time”, the Britney Spears tune which Travis covered back in 1999. He said he would play both. “Hit Me” was just as good as I remember it, with the audience singing “still believe” in high falsetto which made Fran crack up several times. Andy came back out and they played “Good Feeling” followed by the last number of the night, “Battleships”, as promised.

    As we left the venue, I spotted an official bootleg at the swag table for 10 bucks and snatched it up immediately. It’s the whole show complete with stories separated via track numbers from the music, so you can just hear the tunes if you like. I highly recommend it. George bought one too and we headed out into the night for an evening of pub hopping on State Street.

    Played early in the set, the words from the song “Turn” reverberated in my ears in the crisp and cool autumnal night. I could have stayed home and seen them in Minny but went on an adventure instead. Sure, I almost careened off the road in a bullshit October snowstorm, but so what? The experience of the Majestic was completely worth it. More people in our “grandma and grandpa” nation need to fucking do shit like this.

    As the song says…”there’s so much world outside the door”:)

    Check TravisOnline for dates near you. There are several in NYC….wow!

  • Rock

    A Bloody Rager: Arctic Monkeys at First Avenue

    A few years back, a couple of guys on my tennis team were talking. Let’s call them Jim and John. Jim, the older brother of John, was talking about a party that John had recently while their parents were away. Jim was in his 20s and John had just finished his first year at UW-Madison.

    “Mark, you should have seen what I came home to on Saturday night,” Jim said laughing. John started to chuckle.

    “I come home to do my laundry and this kid,” Jim said pointing at John, “was having a bloody rager!”

    He then went on to describe the large crowd that piled into the Eden Prairie, MN home of Jim and John’s parents. They drank, smoked, yelled, danced, and were basically all up in that bitch. I cracked up at Jim’s perfect and simple definition.

    Over the years, I, too, have experienced many “bloody ragers” and have many fond memories from each one of them. Whenever I go to a show, depending upon the band of course, there is always a fair amount of raging that goes in the pit. The club smell always puts me right into the mood. It’s like vodka…perfume…sweat…red bulls…cologne…all mixed up in a glorious din.

    It had been awhile since I was at a rager and, honestly, wasn’t expecting one when The Arctic Monkeys announced a show at First Avenue. Their new album, Humbug, sounds like…well…like they spent time with my 8th grade class in 1981 doing bong hits and listening to Ozzy Osbourne and AC/DC. Alex Turner, front man of the band, in a recent interview in NME confirmed this by stating that he and the lads from the Sheffield band had been hanging out and listening to a lot of Black Sabbath whilst recording this record. “Hanging out,” mmm? So, that’s what the kids are calling it these days.

    They looked every bit the part of my eighth grade class as they came out on stage and opened with “Dance Little Liar” from the new record…long hair…band t-shirts…jeans. What happened to those posh, Kinks-looking dudes, who sang of bigger boys and stolen sweethearts? Obviously, they were still there as they ripped into the second track of the evening, “Brainstorm.” This was the moment when the rager was born.

    Cups of beer, sweaty bodies, and hair flew everywhere as the pit at First Avenue became a swirling mass of humanity. I was off to the side (right next to the forbidden staircase) and stuck my proverbial toe in the water a few times. It was fucking great. When they played “Still Take You Home” from the first record, we all shouted “YOU KNOW NOTHING!” when Alex, sporting a Vines T shirt (mega:)), asked us in the lyric, “What do you know?”

    “I Bet You Look Good On The Dance Floor” was next which turned the rager into a bloody rager. I took an elbow to the ribs, spilled half my Smithwicks on my trainers, and received a lateral deltoid to the chops but I didn’t care. I was in that place…a place that I will be in until I’ve fallen and can’t get up. My home…

    They played several songs from the new album which sounded great live. I’ve always found the remarkable bands to be the ones that have an album which becomes more vibrant when they play live. And then you go back, listen to the record and love it more! This turned out to be true for Humbug and I was pleasantly surprised. As they closed the set proper with the beautiful “Fluorescent Adolescent,” I started to move towards the exit. My friends looked at me and said, “What about the encore?”

    “The Arctic Monkeys don’t play encores,” I chuckled. I had seen them two times before. Once in Chicago and once here and they always just played extra long sets. Alex has been quoted several times as saying that encores “were for wankers.” I got a couple of steps away and noticed that the lights had not come up. People were still cheering…raging…was I (gasp) the maniacal music guru (double gasp) wrong?

    Happily I was. They came back out and played an encore comprised of “Red Right Hand,” “My Propeller” and “505.” The crowd went berserk again. And the rager…oops…sorry….the bloody rager was back.

    Bliss:)

    For another take on the show and some fabulous pics check out my friend (and fellow Brit Rock addict) Brody’s music blog. Check TicketMaster for the Arctic Monkeys show near you.

    =============

    Check out Humbug

  • Rock

    Shining Still…To Give Us The Will

    In the summer of 1980, my father pulled into our driveway. My mom and he had been divorced for just over a year. I had spent the last year missing him terribly. He was living over a half hour away in a different city. I had just turned 13 only a few months before and the hormones were raging. My emotions were all over the place as the man who had introduced me to the sacred power of music had become a part time dad.

    My dad was like my own personal John Lennon. He was so fucking cool with his longhair and carefree lifestyle. He liked The Beatles, The Stones, The Who, Led Zeppelin, The Kinks, and scores of other great bands. As a child I would sit on the floor of our basement as he would pull out vinyl gem after gem and spin it on his Thorens turntable which I still own to this day. Like Alice falling through the rabbit hole, a vibrant and gorgeous world opened up to me. Anything was possible in this magical place that shone brightly, was eternally warm and forever welcoming. I learned at a very early age that as long as there was music, no one would ever be truly alone.

    One artist that I fell in love with immediately was Todd Rundgren. Hermit of Mink Hollow was the album I remember hearing quite a bit back in the late 70’s, although my dad played all of Todd’s records incessantly. When he pulled up in our driveway that day in 1980, he had a big smile on his face. I ran out to greet him and he said, “Hey Mark? Guess what? I have tickets for us to see Todd Rundgren’s Utopia at Poplar Creek in Chicago in a few weeks. Wanna go?”…

  • Rock

    Those Three Words: Snow Patrol at the State Theater in Minneapolis

    In April of 2004, I walked the cold, snow/rain soaked streets of downtown Minneapolis towards the now defunct music venue The Quest. I was a man obsessed. For the few weeks before this, I had been incessantly playing what has become THE ultimate break up song of all time…”Run” by Ireland’s Snow Patrol.

    The band was in town to perform, not in the main room, but in the much smaller Ascot Room located in the upstairs of The Quest. I was pretty amped because the room was not all that bigger than a tennis court so essentially it was going to be like a press gig. I stood two feet from lead singer Gary Lightbody, who smiled at me constantly for being such a dork for every song he played, and watched the band play several songs from the current CD at the time, Final Straw, as well as tunes from the first two indie releases. It was magnificent.

    Less than three months later, they came back and played the main room at the Quest and it was good, but the Quest’s main room sound system really gargled old-man-in-a-rest-home testicles so I had trouble getting into it. Plus that first show was so intimate that it was hard to compare. More people were at the second gig as the band was beginning to get popular so at least that was cool.

    Two years later, they released Eyes Open and made the word “popular” their bitch. At the time, I have to admit that I wasn’t as into that album as the rest of humanity was…I liked the songs but they didn’t resonate with me like those on The Final Straw…like “Run.” Would they ever write the bookend to the ultimate break up song in the form of the ultimate love song?

    Last year when the band released A Hundred Million Suns, I discovered the answer was yes. So when I saw that they were kicking off their US tour in Minneapolis, my heart metaphorically melted into a pile of squishy love goo at the thought of hearing the most romantic song I have EVER heard played live…”Crack the Shutters.”

    Gary Lightbody, lead singer and songwriter for Snow Patrol, calls the song “the purest love song I’ve ever written. Even more so than ‘Chasing Cars.’ It’s luxuriating in the beauty and wonder of someone you love with all of your heart.”
    I completely agree.

    As the set started with the almost as romantic and deeply personal “If There’s a Rocket Tie Me To It,” a feeling slowly crept over me…ever growing…like a ripple spreading across a still Irish pond. This band travels on a path that leads very deeply into that part of the heart where the fire of romance is as eternal as the one that keeps vigil over a fellow countryman named Kennedy.

    Gary solidified this as he sang, “On my knees I think clearer” for the next song, “Chocolate,” and literally did so. As the band struggled with a multitude of sound problems and Gary’s failing memory, lyrically speaking, the audience didn’t seem to care as the set list was adjusted. Looking over at my favorite show companion of all time, her face was overcome with emotion as they decided to do “Make This Go On Forever” earlier in the set. It was quite a sight to behold…to watch this companion let every single fucking word of this song resonate inside of her in glorious commonality.  This was transpiring because the band had found yet another layer of heartfelt purity and, ultimately, the truth within her.

    And I had realized that the songs on Eyes Open were just as good as all their rest.

    When the time came for the ultimate break up song, the rest of the band left the stage. A single spotlight shone down on Gary as he sang the crush my heart wonderful words “To think I might not see those eyes /makes it so hard not to cry / and as we say our long goodbye / I nearly do.” Playing the song by himself put an interesting bend to the song and when the band then rejoined him for the ending build up, it was quite lovely.

    As the set progressed, I began to prepare myself for…it. The song. That fucking song. When it started, I quickly turned to my right to see my companion’s eyes close in pure bliss. Singing every lyric, she became like true lovers everywhere as “Crack The Shutters” filled the State Theater in Minneapolis….feeling the truth of beauty in every word Gary sang….validating their belief that it does, in fact, conquer all.

    As they left the stage after having done an encore of “Lighting Strikes”, “Open Your Eyes”, and “You’re All I Have”, I thought of Gary’s words above regarding “Crack The Shutters” and the song they had done back in the middle of the set…”Chasing Cars.” Yes, “Shutters” is the ultimate love song, but perhaps the song “Chasing Cars” has the ultimate line:

    “Those three words…I say too much…and not enough.”

    Do you have someone in your life to whom you can tell those three words? When you say them, are you continually amazed by how they look at you? And do they say them to you in the way you need to hear them?

    I do.

    And it’s the best fucking thing in the world.

    Snow Patrol will be touring North America alone and with U2 (!) for the next six weeks. Check Ticketmaster to see if they are coming to your town.

  • Indie

    Simply Gorgeous

    “Their songs start off OK but then it’s all…..ARRRHHHDDDAHHHHHHHRRRRRRARAR.”

    So says my wife regarding the New York based band the Yeah Yeah Yeahs. Back in 2003, I dragged her to their first show at First Avenue when they were touring in support of the first CD, Fever To Tell. The reaction on her face (nausea) when they did the song “Art Star” (a track from their first self-titled EP which, btw, is one of the BEST album covers EVER) naturally led to what has now become a decade-plus debate with my wife on what is and what is not art.

    This perpetual debate usually ends with me saying, “You have to have your art spoon fed to you” which invariably results in me not getting any vag booty that evening (please email me if you do not know what vag booty is or what the difference is between it and ass booty). It’s always been tough to play the Yeah Yeah Yeahs over the years for my wife, who considers The Stranger by Billy Joel and Bat Out of Hell by Meat Loaf to be the high water marks of art in music.

    While I do enjoy both of those albums immensely, I think the tapestry of art that is music should contain a great deal more depth than those records. Variety, angst, power, labia, and soul vomit (all words that come to mind when I think of the Yeah Yeah Yeahs) should also be a part the lexicon of artistic expression in music. I doubt my wife, as well as many others, will ever see this.

    So, when the Yeah Yeah Yeahs released It’s Blitz last March, I expected a similar reaction. As I listened to the record, I was stunned to hear an entirely new direction. A mellow sound made up of stunning vocals by Karen and wispy keyboards gave me hope that my wife would give it a chance, or perhaps even like it. One track in particular has haunted me since I first played it last spring.

    “Skeletons” is simply gorgeous. It’s so fucking good it just breaks my heart. It starts off with melancholic softness and builds into a majestic cacophony that makes the listener feel like he or she is John Wayne riding through Monument Valley in triumph. I am honestly at loggerheads as to which track will be the track of the year… this one or “Strange Enough” by N.A.S.A. Both feature Karen, so at least no matter which song I pick, I know I won’t dis the indie goddess of this century.

    Last night as I was making dinner, I put “Skeletons” on the iPod boom box in the kitchen. My wife was reading the paper and looked up in the middle of the song. “This is a terribly sad song. I like it, though. Who is it?” I told her it was the Yeah Yeah Yeahs. Her face quickly turned to astonishment. “Really? There’s no…….ARRRRAARRRGGGHHHHAARR…I hardly recognized it.”

    I recommend that you buy the deluxe version of It’s Blitz as it has an accoustic (stunning!) version of “Skeletons” in addition to the original version.

    Listen: Skeletons (mp3)

    Buy It’s Blitz (click the cover):

    Visit: Official Site | MySpace