The reasons why San Francisco’s Testament have never been
able to achieve the same notoriety as fellow Bay-area stalwarts like Metallica
or Slayer could easily be spun into an intriguing story for VH1’s Behind The Music. It’s filled with medical
drama, numerous line-up changes, a revolving door of record companies and more
than a few creative missteps. In fact, you could even draw assumptions that the
band’s lack of real commercial success is a culmination of these events. But
the reality, as pointed out by their latest release The Formation Of Damnation, is that all of these events have seemed
to provide the band with a creative spark, motivating the band to turn in what
is their strongest effort since their initial offerings some two decades ago.
The
Formation Of Damnation sounds nothing like a band navigating through a
mid-life crisis. Instead, it sounds like a band believing that they can outgun
any metal outfit on the block, regardless of age. Believing that you can shred
heavier than everyone else is one thing; being able to deliver that bravado is
another, and Testament rips with enviable ease throughout Damnation’s eleven tracks.
From start to finish, Testament takes a deep breath of the
wisdom that comes with age while paying attention to how they’ll ultimately be
perceived by younger audiences. Metal is a young man’s game, and while those of
us up in years stick to the comforts of our familiarity with hair metal
festivals in Oklahoma and endless Motley Crue reunions, the real future
of metal, those currently sulking through the halls of your local high school,
alienated and socially shunned, need every fucking role model they can muster.
Make no mistake about it; Testament is a perfect role model, providing the
disenfranchised with a blueprint of how metal bands (and fans) should enter
their middle ages. And if you follow Testament’s lead, the proper way to grow
old gracefully is to bang your head every step of the way.
As long as you focus on this, you may overlook the
occasional lyric misfires like “The Evil Has Landed.” It’s forgivable that
Testament, because of their inactivity, waited seven years after the fact to
give us their 9/11 song…hell, with a great title like “The Evil Has Landed” one
has to wonder why nobody has thought of a song title that fucking clever…but
with lines like “So many people killed/2,974/Innocent blood spilled/Extremist
fighting a holy war,” you start to wish that they’d found a more topical
subject matter for their riffage.
That guitar shredding, by the way, is spectacular. There’s
enough jugg-jugging, fingertapping, and dexterous tempo changes to please any
denim-clad fan and it’s done at speeds that should impress all ages of thrash
metal supporters.
Credit vocalist Chuck Billy for bridging the generational
gap. He alternates between traditional metal vocalizations to modern death
growls, providing Testament with a wide texture of sounds. It’s impressive,
particularly considering his age, the polyp-inducing nature of this style, and
the fact that Billy battled a rare form of cancer not too long ago that most
assuredly took some toll on his energy level.
Let Damnation be
considered his declaration of a clean bill of health then. “I stand tall
defiantly!” he barks on the title track, and nearly every song afterwards
continues with the vitality and terror of a man half his age.
Yes, the middle section of Damnationis as good as metal can get, setting a fairly high bar for the more notable
Cali thrash metal outfits, including those that are currently working
double-time to return back to a time when their integrity wasn’t questioned.
So let’s not pull any punches here: replace Testament’s name
on Damnation with Metallica and we’d
all be talking about that band’s amazing return to form. But we’re not; we’re
talking about their low-rent neighbors who’ve been through enough drama for
their own Some
Kind Of Monster documentary and have emerged from it with an album with
such joie de vivre that it will be tough to match.
To admit to liking the German heavy metal band Accept
requires an understanding that you’ll always end up defending the sheer
ridiculous of the video to the band’s biggest stateside song, 1983’s “Balls To
The Wall.” If the image of a short, chubby vocalist with short-cropped blonde
hair and a penchant for camouflage isn’t enough to put your infatuation through
easy ridicule, then the image of a dummy version of Udo Dirkschneider actually
riding a wrecking ball as it slams into a fake wall of bricks should surely do
the trick.
I make no effort to defend that video, only offering that
the riff on “Balls To The Wall” is so awesome that most guitarists would gladly
give their left testicle to come up with a guitar part as spectacular. I’d also
add that Sebastian Bach was spot on when he declared “Udo Dirkschneider” as the
most metal name in rock music.
Accept circa 2012 is not the same band as it was thirty
years ago during the heyday when they could afford things like Styrofoam
bricks, stuffed Udos and videos recorded in bullet time. Hell, Udo isn’t even
in the band anymore and only two of the band’s original line up remains active:
guitarist Wolf Hoffman and bassist Peter Baltes.
To put it bluntly, why should you even give a shit about
Accept circa 2012? For most of you, you probably shouldn’t, but for anyone else
who can appreciate the beauty of metal’s adhesion to the riff itself and admire
the sheer power of a male chorus chanting in an ominous Wagnerian manner such
phrases as “Hellfire!” “Hung, Drawn and Quartered!” and “Stalingrad!”
then Accept’s 13th offering is worth considering.
Stalingrad
is the second record featuring former TT Quick vocalist Mark Tornillo as
frontman. Tornillo possesses a larynx scraping vocal style that resembles
Dirkschneider, but certain performances also demonstrate a greater range that’s
similar to legendary British vocalist Graham Bonnet.
That’s fine for when the band makes a go of all the Accept
songs that most fans will end up wanting during the subsequent tour, but it
does nothing for the sake of the band’s relevance, seemingly two decades beyond
their welcome.
Remarkably, guitarist Wolf Hoffman has put together a
line-up and a set of songs that defy the perception of Accept beating a dead
horse, making Stalingrad
a legitimate contender in the metal community and a source of inspiration to
anyone who isn’t quite ready to let their dreams die.
Hoffman unleashes 11 tracks of uncompromising Flying V
action, and he does it with such ferocity that it sounds too good to be a
second wind. He also catches everyone off guard with an entire concept album
about the battle of Stalingrad that’s as heavy
as the subject matter.
Utilizing the same epic approach found in many Power Metal
bands, Accept is distinctively European even with Tornillo’s New Jersey heritage as the voice of their
recent insurgence.
Much of the Stalingrad’s success comes at the hands of producer
Andy Sneap, who presents each member with stunning clarity. He leant the same
skills to Testament’s The Formation of
Damnation and Megadeth’s recent releases, proving that he’s clearly adept
at bringing old metal bands into the sonic landscape of the twenty-first
century while retaining certain highlights of their catalog.
With Stalingrad, he’s helped renew Accept’s good fortunes,
streamlining all of their talents into one tight package that suggests the
band’s metal heart transplant is an overwhelming success.
If Animal Magnetism
caught my ear, Blackout confirmed the
hard rock abilities of Germany’s
Scorpions. Of course, this was before I had any knowledge of their 70’s output.
This was at the point in the band relationship where one begins the awesome
task of digging into an established band’s back catalog.
For many fans, that can only be a rewarding experience if
the previous work happens to be good as isn’t too far from the excitement of
what caught your ear to begin with.
Thankfully with the Scorpions, you really can’t go too wrong
with picking up anything from their older material when you’re looking for
further listening. Aside from the debut, which is misguided weak-sauce, the
band gets progressively better, and they barely miss a beat when they lost their
incredible lead guitarist Uli-Jon Roth towards the end of the decade.
That’s where I started. Under the recommendation of a
friend, I was steered towards Lovedrive.
I learned later that this was the album that began to get some consistent
airplay across America,
particularly with the opener “Loving You Sunday Morning” and the infectiously
silly ballad, “Holiday.”
I remember thinking that Lovedrive
was not as intense as the album’s I had heard, but in the years since I’ve
grown fonder of some of the album’s tracks that I wasn’t too keen on upon first
listen.
Lyrically, the band continues to string broken English with
common themes like loose women, touring, and missing the loose women from back
in Germany
when they’re on tour. After a bit, the humor of some of the couplets transition
from hilarious to hilariously awesome.
Particularly on “Another Piece Of Meat,” an ode to a
Japanese fan who told Klaus “I’ve been too long alone/I need hot love, you
know/And I need it now.” The entire song plays out like it was written by
someone who’s never had sex in their life and the fact that the potty-mouthed
chick was from Japan is the
equivalent of a thirteen year-old saying that their girlfriend lives in Indiana.
Yes, I want the wallet sized school picture of this woman,
Klaus. Prove it.
More incredulous is the part where Klaus tries to make up
for the fact that his partner only refers to him as another piece of meat,
bragging “She was screaming for more blood/Loved it more than any slut/I
couldn’t stand it!”
But you consider the language barrier-a recurring excuse for
Scorpions-you begin to see how utterly innocent these songwriters are. The band
simply takes their second language (third, maybe, if you consider Tokyo Tapes) and tries to add
provocative English words together that phonetically rhyme without fully
realizing how utterly ridiculous they really sound together.
God bless ‘em for trying, and God bless ‘em for coming up
with the amount of riffage that they do for such unintentionally funny words.
Lovedrive is a surprisingly
tentative affair as the band tiptoes around new guitarist Mathias Jabs, even
letting younger brother Michael Schenker
guests as a guitarist for a few tracks just as a precaution.
All of this must have led to an awful amount of ambivalence
when it came time to collect enough songs for the record. At one point, even
“Is There Anybody There,” a misguided stab at reggae, finds its way on to the
album.
They’d get more comfortable with this line-up for the next
album, and they’d find enormous success around the corner. Lovedrive is the first Scorpions record that points the way to
their commercial zenith while doing little to damage the high reputation of Uli
Jon Roth’s era of the band where they used brute force to get your attention.
The cover is certainly attention grabbing to say the least,
but there are hints throughout Lovedrive that
show how their formula for a U.S. Arachnid invasion is proving to be successful.
If Rundgren’s The Ever
Popular Tortured Artist Effect was the sound of Todd trying to get out of
his record contract, his work on Utopia’s self-titled 1982 release is the sound
of him celebrating the arrival of a new label for his democratically minded band.
The eponymous album title is intentional. Despite releasing
a half-dozen other records under the very same moniker, Utopia is clearly attempting to wipe the slate clean with lucky
seven. And they would love nothing more than to start the relationship with
their new label than with a big hit.
Utopia became the
band’s only release for Network records, and all of the MTV-schlocking that
Todd and company did for this album only got it to #84 on the Billboard charts.
The poor commercial showing has little to do with the music
within Utopia, a three-sided
exploration of the same kind of pop buzz that Rundgren began with Nazz. The 15
tracks presented here run the gamut to Todd’s attraction to Philly Soul, to the
power-pop infatuation of Deface The Music,
to the melting walls vibe of his own psychedelic garage origins. Utopia bounces along like an alternate
universe top 40 station if it were programmed by four nerdy white guys who just
bought a bunch of new wave records at Musicland.
It’s not Rundgren’s best production work, either. That
distinction would come with the next Utopia album, Oblivion. Nothing bites and the instruments just kind of belches
out of the mix. On one of the album’s best tracks-the tight package of opener
“Libertine”-always seemed to sound like the record’s pressing was just a tad
off-center, causing the song to have this strange warping effect that was
prevalent on each spin or every cassette copy. I’m happy to report that I
wasn’t on too much dope and my vinyl copy played just fine; the same effect is
noticeable to me on my compressed digital file.
There’s a track like “Libertine” on every side: tight,
simple, and enormously catchy. “Princess Of The Universe,” “Call It What You
Will,” and the MTV light-rotation lead single “Feet Don’t Fail Me Now” all
could have been contenders on a larger scale if this band was marketable beyond
the cult of Todd and fans of new wave pop.
The thing is, Utopia is made up of Todd Rundgren and his
circle of very seasoned musicians. This stuff should be a cakewalk with these
guys, so when things get a bit too goofy, too easy, and too clichéd, there’s not
a lot of room to hide from the necessary finger wagging.
“Burn Three Times” takes the entire “love is like cooking in
the kitchen” motif a step too far and “There Goes My Inspiration” does the same
with art, somehow equating the idea that name-checking notable artists in a
song is somehow clever. There’s very little shelf life with a line like “Me and
Gaugin used to party down/I was hung in the Louvre, I was Renoir’s pal” after
hearing it a few times. Particularly when Rundgren practically wrote the book
on cleverness with that incredible “And when we’re through with you/We’ll get
me one too” ending to “We Gotta Get You A Woman.”
Utopia stands as
the band’s most unified piece of work, sounding like the work of four band
members working together instead of the democratic arrangements of records
past, where the main contributor had the majority rule on how the final mix
would sound.
Gone is the stitched-up running order where the songwriter
could be easily identified upon first listen. Utopia gives legs to the entire reinvention motif, impressively
putting a lid on Todd’s ego for a moment while the entire band works together
at selflessly helping their most notable member achieve one of his best
performances of the entire decade.
It’s a pop record of decent proportions, marred only by a
few missteps and the creepy marketing ploy where the band members look like
over-the-hill relics dressed up in New Wave clothing for the cover shot. Every
one of Utopia’s talented line-up should have known that you don’t need to dress
anything up when it you tailor a perfectly good two-and-a-half minute long pop
song.
So, as you can probably guess, I’ve been revisiting some of
my past history concerning Todd Rundgren, and I can already tell that I’m going
to have to revisit his 70’s material, because the garbage from the 80’s has
really got me disenchanted with him.
At least the Utopia stuff was spread across a few members so
that the bulk of the record wasn’t entirely on Todd’s shoulders.
And maybe that was the problem: Rundgren just spread himself
around too thin and then relied on the synthesizer to help him fill out his
arrangements. The thing was, the instrument was still in its infancy as a
device that could adequately fulfill the tones that Rundgren was trying to
achieve.
Here’s a few nifty things I learned from diving back in to
Todd’s body of work from the 80’s:
He’s
admitted that The Ever Popular
Tortured Artist Effect hasn’t aged well, specifically, it was a rush
job that now houses some of his least favorite material. Could you imagine
being told you’re a genius for a decade and then having people bark “Play
Bang On The Drum All Day!” at you for every gig? And Todd seems to have an
ego large enough where things like this would seem beneath him. I mean, he
once told an audience to shut up between songs because he was recording a “live”
album but didn’t want to be pestered with all of those nasty audience
noises that happens when you, um, play live.
Side
one of Healing was nearly
unlistenable to me. For real: I had to pause the thing and listen to a
bunch of heavy metal just to get the gunk out of my ears. It’d been over
20 years since I’d heard that thing, and I thought for a moment that’d I’d
been on dope for ever liking that album. Then I played side two and
remembered.
Tortured Artist was even worse than
Healing.
I
think Rundgren is a pussy for devoting an entire album to the idea of
spirituality and then declares on the shitass song “Chant” on the next
album that “I’m not pushing some religion/Don’t get me wrong, I never mess
with such things.” Kind of makes the entire credibility of Healing go out the window.
I was
too scared to by whatever album “The Want Of A Nail” was on. The song
rocks, but by this point, I’d gotten tired of spending good money on
bargain bin Todd Rundgren albums when I could have easily been spending it
on things like Human League 12 inchers or imported Yazoo dance remixes.
I’ve
got a Utopia album…Utopia, the
one with three sides…signed by all of the members of Utopia that I’ll sell
to the highest bidder.
I read
where Rundgren set up a quadraphonic sound system for one of his tours in
the mid-70’s where he demanded to be in charge of the nightly audio
testing. The crew members would have to work ahead just to get the audio
equipment set up. When the other equipment arrived, they’d have to set up
and do what’s called a pink noise test before any audience members
arrived, then they’d have to do another with the audience members present,
because the dynamics of the venue had changed, and they have to readjust
the levels. The entire process drove Todd to the brink, never mind the
audience who had to endure the annoying pink noise tests while they waited
for the show to begin.
I used
to want an equalizer with a pink noise generator when I was younger. Do they even make equalizers any more?
By the time Todd Rundgren began work on the follow-up to
1981’s , he had grown
disenfranchised with his long-time label Bearsville, even taking the step of
moving his band Utopia off the label for another.
The fact that Bearsville still wanted Todd’s solo material
as part of their roster led to the tongue-in-cheek album title, but it was
Rundgren himself that made the choice to provide the last effort for his label
as yet another example of his inability to provide enough material to coat an
elpee worth of solid tunes.
The Ever Popular
Tortured Artist Effect is a rushed, choppy, contractual obligation with
very little effort and even fewer memorable performances.
How ironic is it that it’s most famous track, “Bang The Drum
All Day,” has become ubiquitous at sporting events around the country. Prior to
that, it was a “clever” little bit of A.O.R. radio gold that they used to play
on Friday afternoons, right alongside Loverboy’s “Working For The Weekend.”
It was a neat little comedic song when Tortured was release, but now it’s become an annoying cliché
because some radio programmer equated it with the weekend release mantra of the
proletariat.
The song that should have been the hit is the perfect rock
radio cut “Drive,” where Todd screams “Don’t sit and cry while the world passes
by/Stop tagging after the other guy/Just get a line on that mother…and drive”
in a bit of awesome motivational technique.
The rest of Tortured
Artist could have used some of that very same motivation, as Todd
sleepwalks through cheesy synthesizer-laden tune that have little depth or
hooks within them. A telling point is when Todd covers the Small Faces “Tin
Soldier,” itself a throwaway move, but the emotion that he delivers the song
with is more than double what he can muster for his own material.
Another one of my Todd Rundgren cut-out purchases, The Ever Popular Tortured Artist Effect
came in the form of a cassette that pretty much retained all of its oxide due
to lack of playback, except for the one-two punch of “Drum” and “Drive.,” Both tracks make the highpoint list within
the context of this sub-par album while not being anywhere close to what
Rundgren was capable of had he put his label politics aside and focused on a
delivering a record that compliments his career instead of merely reflecting
his business discontent.
The thing about Todd Rundgren’s seminal Something/Anything is that it is so good…so inspiring…that you
immediately begin searching for other records in his catalog that will provide
the same rate of return.
Chances are good you’ll never find one.
Within seconds of listening to anything post S/A, you’ll also discover that Rundgren
follows his irreverent muse to places that not only aren’t fulfilling, but
nowhere near the caliber of what he’s capable of.
I learned this by acquiring a bunch of Todd Rundgren records
in the cutout bins throughout America,
discovering firsthand why they ended up in the cheap seats to begin with.
Healing was one of
those records, Rundgren’s 1981’s release, which shows him exploring the idea of
spirituality, and one that listeners will finally begin to question the
artist’s fixation with keyboards and synthesizers.
The reality is that these types of devices generally bring
out the laziness in Rundgren, giving him the false sense of security that the
record is over when it may actually require a little more time and effort from
him.
The case is painfully obvious on Healing, a record plagued with half-baked concepts and woefully
inept arrangements that sounded dated the moment they were released.
It wasn’t the first time Todd used his electronic equipment
as a crutch again more organic outlets, but it may have been the first time
where getting through an entire side of a Todd Rundgren album proves to be such
a chore.
Beginning with “Healer,” the record’s mission statement, if
you will, that comes a few years too late to qualify as a Peter Gabriel
outtake, yet sounds like Todd just discovered him for the first time.
“Flesh” continues the album’s thematic approach, complete
with a near a Capella delivery, complete with pointless gaps in between each
preachy verse.
“Golden Goose” is completely uncoordinated with the rest of
this record, a pointless oom-pah up-tempo novelty that jars the listener out of
any holistic qualities the album portends to channel.
The rest of side one flows in and out of mundane MOR flourishes
that try to incorporate atmospheric textures and soulful vocal scales in an
obvious attempt to fool listeners-particularly in the cult of Todd-which Healing is more than its minimalistic
approach suggests.
But before you can get completely cynical on Todd and
declare that Healing was the first
hint at Rundgren’s incredibly self-centered and ego-driven 80’s decade, side
two suggests that this album definitely stood a chance.
Essentially the record’s centerpiece, “Healing” is presented
in a three-song suite that takes up the entire second side. It is here that the
atmospherics seem to match Rundgren’s intent of blending the power of healing by
actually creating music with healing qualities.
As a result, side-two of Healing
became an instant favorite, with side one seldom finding any companionship with
my turntable’s needle. The original pressing contained a bonus 7” single of
“Time Heals” and “Tiny Demons,” two distinctively separate yet enjoyable cuts
that probably deserve better than their “bonus single” status. They certainly
deserve better than being tacked on at the end of Healing, which is what every edition of the record has done with
them since the original vinyl edition fell out of print.
As a Todd Rundgren document, Healing is arguably a release that is deserving of attention beyond
the completists, and beyond the loyal faithful that will place it higher than
it actually is. It is indicative of Todd’s problem of failing to live up to the
expectations that everyone placed on him after his early masterstrokes, by
conveniently side-stepping any attempt to try to challenge them.
You could make the argument that Healing is a notable challenge and a worthy attempt at greatness,
but the music within it demonstrates otherwise. It is an effort that literally
hinges on two sides: one that feels like a simplistic bit of patchwork that
barely adheres to the lofty themes that its title suggests.
The other side does manage to reflect something special, but
unfortunately, it’s not enough to excuse the inherent frustrations of his
career or the reasons why Healing
came into my own life through the bargain bins than are already littered with
remnants of Rundgren’s fickle muse.
American Goldwing has been out for nearly a year now, and the band continues to pump out singles from it like it's 1990 or something. And yet Sub Pop can't forward over a zip file for me to review the fucking thing.
If I didn't think that Blitzen Trapper were such a good band and American Goldwing such a good album, I would have let this thing end up in the recycle bin. But gosh, is it good and a bit close to home.
I went over to my Grandparent's house once, on a whim, with nothing but a pair of clothes and a cheap Radio Shack tape recorder that I bought along the way. The idea was to record them telling old stories. What I came away with was nothing much than bickering and self-consciousness. My grandmother would interrupt each story with "Todd, are you recording this? You know I hate the sound of my voice! Turn that thing off!"
That and the incredible fidelity of those Radio Shack cassettes rendered the entire project useless and I found the ruined tape of the interview in the trunk of my old Honda moments after selling it and cleaning the thing out.
Then they were gone.
I hate death. And I hate the idea of getting old and dying. Ironically, I'm totally looking forward to retirement and all the laziness and grumpiness that comes with it, but I resent the idea that all of this comes in a body that is slowly breaking.
The video for Blitzen Trapper's "Girl In A Coat" kind of captures that, at least from the perspective from a man reaching the end of his life with a firm recount of a love from many years passed.
I hope love is this powerful in real life.
The assclowns at Sub Pop wrote the following:
Blitzen Trapper have
premiered a poignant and heartfelt video for American Goldwing track,
"Girl In A Coat" via a shitty magazine website that only lets you read their articles online only when you subscribe to their toilet paper publication. The clip was directed by Daniel Elkayam
(Blitzen Trapper's "Black River Killer" & "The Tree") and stars band drummer
Brian Koch and his grandfather, Arthur Koch. Brian Koch, who also wrote and
produced the video, stated "Four years ago I interviewed my Grandfather at the
age of 96 to talk about his life. I was struck by how, even though so much had
become blurry, confused or completely fallen away from his memory, some things
remained. Just shy of his 100th birthday, Daniel and I began to create a video
from my Grandfather's perspective, blurring the boundaries of time and space in
memory. "Girl In A Coat," with its wearied narrative of retrospection, seemed
the perfect match for the concept."
Blitzen Trapper are currently
on a headline tour supporting American
Goldwing. The tour will visit Alexandria, VA tomorrow night, July
17th with a performance at The Birchmere, and wraps up on September 2
in Seattle, WA at Bumbershoot. Along the way, the band has additional festival
appearances to mention: Newport Folk Festival in Newport, RI on July
27th; Pickathon in Happy Valley, OR August
3rd-5th; Doe Bay Festival In Olga, WA on August
11th-12th; And Summer Meltdown Festival in Arlington, WA
on August 10th;. Immediately following the late summer headline
jaunt, the band will act as main support for label mates The Head and The Heart,
which begins on September 18th in Spokane, WA at Knitting Factory and wraps up
on October 10th in Eugene, OR at the McDonald Theatre. The entire
tour schedule is listed below.
In related news, fans can
stream Blitzen Trapper’s forthcoming set at Newport Folk Fest on July 27th
via NPR.
Tour Dates:
Jul. 17 - Alexandria, VA - The
Birchmere
Jul. 18 - Richmond, VA - The
National
Jul. 19 - Charlotte, NC - Casbah at Tremont Music
Hall
Jul. 20 - Charleston, SC - The Charleston
Pourhouse
Jul. 21 - Wilmington, NC - The
Soapbox
Jul. 22 - Knoxville, TN - Cider
House
Jul. 24 - Cincinnati, OH - Taft
Ballroom
Jul. 25 - Millvale, PA - Mr. Small’s Theatre
Jul. 26 - York, PA - Capitol
Theater
Jul. 27 - Newport, RI - Newport Folk Festival
Jul. 30 - Indianapolis, IN - Deluxe @ Old National
Centre
Jul. 31 - Columbia, MO - Mojo’s
Aug. 03-05 - Happy Valley, OR - Pickathon
Festival
Aug.10 - Arlington, WA - Summer Meltdown
Festival
Aug. 11 - 12 - Olga, WA - Doe Bay Music
Festival
Sep. 01 - Bend, OR - Les Schwab
Amphitheatre**
Sep. 02 - Seattle, WA - Bumbershoot
Festival
Sep. 18 - Spokane, WA - Knitting
Factory*
Sep. 19 - Missoula, MT - Wilma
Theatre*
Sep. 20 - Boise, ID - Knitting
Factory*
Sep. 02- Salt Lake City, UT - The
Depot*
Sep. 23 - Boulder, CO - Boulder
Theater*
Sep. 25 - Kansas City, MO - Uptown
Theater*
Sep. 26 - Minneapolis, MN - First
Avenue*
Sep. 28 - Madison, WI - Orpheum
Theatre*
Sep. 30 - Tulsa, OK - Cain’s
Ballroom*
Oct. 02 - Tucson, AZ - Rialto
Theatre*
Oct. 03- San Diego, CA - Spreckels
Theatre*
Oct. 05 - Los Angeles, CA - The
Wiltern*
Oct. 07 - Santa Cruz, CA - Rio
Theatre*
Oct. 10 - Eugene, OR - McDonald
Theatre*
*w/ The Head And The Heart
** w/ Brandi Carlile
*** w/ no Iowa dates to speak of. Mojo's in Columbia would be a good place to see 'em, plus they have good bbq there.
Before I get to the live review of the sets that I saw
during 2012’s 80/35 Festival, I have to mention the events preceding it.
For those of you not familiar with this obscure music
festival held in Des Moines,
Iowa every summer around
Independence Day, let me share the particular. It’s in the downtown section and
they close off a few blocks in the area, have vendors and booths line the
streets, and there are two separate stage areas playing music of the
alternative variety.
I’ve been accused of being a buzz kill when visiting this
even in year’s past, but I’m a moody fucker and I follow the Osmond’s mantra of
one bad apple don’t spoil the whole bunch.
I’m also a cheap bastard, so when I learned of this year’s
line-up, I didn’t see a lot of bands that made me want to fork over the “early
bird special” price that they offered. At that time, there were some bands that
I wasn’t interested in and one-Death Cab For Cutie-that I’ve seen twice before
and my affection towards them has kind of run its course anyway.
Then some of the open slots started to fill up and I noticed
well after the discounted ticket period that the opening night of the two-day
festival had two bands that I needed to see: Dinosaur Jr. and Fucked Up.
While I’ve seen Dino previously in the most intimate of
settings, I’d gladly pay to see them again. And I get the impression that
Fucked Up aren’t going to be around for much longer, as each of the band
members get older and start examining other life options, most of which don’t
entail performing in a band with an incredibly obscene band name.
Moreover, if you appreciate David Comes To Life as much as I do, you kind of want a band like
Fucked Up to reach as many people as possible. You get a little bummed when
their name alone prevents a wider audience from learning about them, because
the truth is, we need more bands like Fucked Up, challenging people in
the same manner that punk rock challenged me when I was a youngster.
Plus, I heard that they were just an awesomely great live
act.
The great news was that Fucked Up would open this year’s
80/35 Festival, and Dinosaur Jr. would immediately follow them. This meant that
I didn’t need a weekend pass at all, just the one-day pass would be fine, and
there was a good possibility that I could be in the comforts of my parent’s
house before the nightly news came on.
So I waited, patiently scanning Craigslist for one-day pass
deals that only seemed to get better as the date approached.
On the night before the Friday opening, an ad appeared in
the local section of the website for exactly what I was looking for: a one-day
pass for $20. To see two bands for $20 was a great deal, I thought, so I made
contact with the seller.
A response came back from a chick named Astrid, which made
me think of Hamburg
era Beatles, which made me feel pretty good about the entire transaction. On
the morning of the festival, I prepped for the two-hour travel time to my
parent’s place with a swing by the bank and a quick torque of the wheels that I
had rotated a hundred miles previously.
My phone buzzed that I’d received a new email, and I noticed
that it was from Astrid who explained that she wouldn’t be able to meet me to
purchase the ticket. She graciously just gave me the link to her ticket, which
contained her name on the actual ticket image and stated on the “instructions”
section that I needed to present a photo id or the credit card used to purchase
the thing just to gain access.
This is the part where I tell you that the people actually
taking the tickets for the 80/35 Festival don’t give a shit if your name is
Astrid, Todd, or Charles Nelson Reilly. The volunteer staff seemed completely
chill, and upon entry, my ticket was quickly scanned and the obligatory access
bracelet was attached to my right wrist.
Maybe it was the heat that caused everyone to create a drama
free environment in what was already a very oppressive one, temperature wise.
You see, the Midwest had been enduring a weeklong
heat wave during the festival, most assuredly concerning the promoters that
everyone would just stay home for fear of that pesky heat stroke.
A sponsor handed out empty water bottles and the city opened
up a few hydrants with makeshift water refill stations, making sure that if
anyone was going to collapse from heat exhaustion, it wouldn’t be from their
neglect.
Photo by Tony Galloro courtesy of amesprogressive.org
Walking up the closed off street to get to the main stage
area, I could hear the sounds of guitars and screams of “Dying on the inside!
Dying on the inside!” bouncing off the brick buildings of downtown Des Moines.
I found a spot directly in front of the stage (I’d put the
crowd at conservative number of 150-200 deep) and gazed upon the image of a
shirtless Damian Abraham screaming at the surrounding buildings, housing a
bunch of financial institutions like Wells Fargo and other wealth management
corporations. I smiled at the thought of someone stuck at work a little late on
that Friday afternoon, distracted by the punk rock band from Canada playing
just outside their window.
It wasn’t long before Damian found his way off stage and
into the crowd, giving a sweaty hug to anyone who poured water on him or rubbed
ice on his hairy back. He seemed like a big, gentle bear, appreciative of the
few who had braved the heat to see them. His stage banter included an update on
his family, an appreciation of cheese curds (thereby becoming totally relatable
to his Iowan fan base) and a quick story of a Canadian punk band that
influenced him.
Quick side note: a friend of mine in college had a
collection of punk and hardcore songs as performed by Canadian punk bands. I
think it was designed as some introduction to Canadian punk, but one of the
songs-I remember the name of the tune was “Equal Time”-featured a slam on the United States
at the end of it. The singer declared “You fucking Americans/Can’t even read”
at the end of the song, to which my friend and I felt was a pretty chickenshit
way of trying to disrespect our country. We were like: “Dude, you’re from
fucking Canada!”
trying to point out the folly of his complaints. Just for reference, have you
ever noticed how many Canadians get busted in bait cars? At least in America,
we have enough smarts to take our keys with us and lock the doors.
The band looked miserable, particularly Sandy Miranda who
appeared on the verge of passing out during a few moments.
Abraham was the biggest sweat lodge of them all, climbing on
top of camera towers and, eventually crawling on the ground back to the stage
as the band was reaching the end of their set.
With every venture off stage, the younger bums would start
to thrash. Before long, a swirling pit arose, which prompted the very metro
looking twenty-something to take notice. He locked in on Abraham, in what I
couldn’t decipher, was friend or foe. You see, I’ve been to shows in the past
where a few head knockers show up, with their only intent seeming to be to hurt
a musician or artist who is perceived to be of the more “physical” type.
Damian Abraham does not strike me as one of those artists.
The look of joy he had just watching the crowd work, basking in the moment
while staying close to the edge of any resemblance of thrash pit shenanigans.
He’d smile as the dervish gained speed, and then he’d focus his attention on
what I’d call the more literal fan base. The crowd members that knew every word
to every song, relishing the chance to scream a verse into Abraham’s
microphone, possibly even a cheek-to-cheek duet.
It was all there. And then it was over.
I swear the set was done in a prompt forty-five minutes. And
while I’m usually a fan of brevity and encores only when they’re deserved
(there would be no encore from Fucked Up tonight), I could have easily enjoyed
an extra hour of this band. Yes, I’d take the heat if that was the only
requirement, but I must confess that there is no human on Earth that could have
rocked as hard as Fucked Up did in this solar panel conditions for anything
much longer than what they gave Friday night.
See this band before you die or before they collapse under
the rigors of middle age responsibility.
How hot was it? I came well hydrated to the show and knew
instinctively after the Fucked Up set that I would require more aqua. I began
looking for those free water bottles that I kept seeing everyone use, so that I
too could take advantage of the blessed water courtesy of the Des Moines Water
Department, but after a few blocks I gave up. Just looking at the dead eyes of
everyone walking past the lefty booths and liberal causes was exhausting. The
representatives of these progressive and artsy spots barely wanted you to check
their displays out for fear of the additional body heat, and for me the feeling
was completely mutual.
One larger, heavily tattooed woman took advantage of the
increased traffic in front of her tent that she encouraged people to stop by,
sweetening the deal with an offer of “free hugs.” The exact type of hug was
bartered out to a crew of four young dudes, one of whom declined immediately,
stating the obvious “It’s too hot for a hug.”
Finally, my body realized that all of this walking was not
going a bit of good in keeping cool, so I broke down and spent the $3 bucks one
food vendor was asking for Aquafinas. By the time I got back to the stage,
securing a front row spot for Dinosaur Jr’s set, my water was already half
consumed. It forced me to refill my bottle and lose my sweet spot in the
process as the crowd had grown noticeably larger for J., Lou and Murph.
Photo by Sami Villwock courtesy amesprogressive.org
Poor Lou Barlow came on stage to battle a slowly setting sun
with an ill-advised pair of black slacks and a black polo with thin red and
white stripes. With the sun came the sweat, and by the soft section of set
opener “Thumb,” Lou’s sweat began taking his glasses down his nose like a
waterslide, prompting Barlow to finally just put them on top of his bass amp
for future need.
Throughout the show, Barlow was the band’s primary
banter-maker, yelling at the sun for being too bright, challenging the
light-maker to a dual and encouraging it to go away. It caused him to refer to Des Moines as one of the
low points of his tour, not because of the city, but because of how shitty his
performance was because of the heat.
Personally, I didn’t notice that poor of a showing from him,
but it was clear that the heat would definitely contribute to the misery of yet
another bassist this evening.
Murph still does that annoying fill thing in between songs,
hammering out a brief beat, groove, or fill while Barlow drinks fluids and
Mascis tunes his guitar. He provided a solid beat throughout the set, but give
us some time to recuperate from the sonic assault of each song instead of
banging for the sake of making noise.
Because J. was certainly providing ample amounts of noise
with his trio of Marshall
stacks and a rack the size of a twin bed housing all of the dude’s fucking
guitar pedals. He started out a bit flat, but his solos began to get crazier as
the set progressed.
By the end of the set, the band brought out “Freak Scene”
which got a few ladies dancing. Whenever Mascis went to the “jugga jugga”
bridge part, he’d hit a pedal that made his guitar sound like a jet airplane.
I took an earplug out just to get a taste and immediately
felt sympathy for all the morons that came down without them. The crowd would
get worked up enough to start a bit a of jostling, before eventually getting
beat down by the added heat. The “troublemakers” were so polite that I saw a
crowd surfer reaching the end of the line near stage right, lightly smacking
the heads of two unsuspecting girls as he made his way to the ground.
The young man, being the polite young Iowan that he was,
apologized to the girls without saying a word or taking off his sunglasses,
offering a parting handshake before heading back into the pushers and the
shovers to locate his original crew.
I saw a couple in their early forties taking in the vibe
with their young teenage son and daughter, gently enjoying each other’s company
before the show. They looked very suburban, a picture of Mom and Dad bringing
their kids down to an old school alternative rock show to relive a bit of the
history when Dad had an airshift down at the campus radio station.
By the time of Dinosaur Jr’s set, that same Dad was
witnessed spending more time eyeballing the pit that had started immediately
next to his family, causing him to become the protector while Mascis bent notes
and damaged our hearing. It was a lovely bit of chaos and Mascis seemed to be
enjoying himself, as evidenced by a few extended solos.
And the dude seemed to barely break a sweat, and I was right
up in front to witness this as the god’s honest truth. Mascis hardly went away
from the back and forth rocking, eyes locked on the fretboard (when you could
see his eyes, that is) while smacking us in the face with an occasional scream
of his wah-wah. It was out of this world at times, and with the abrupt close of
“Just Like Heaven,” they were off stage after a tidy 80 minute set.
Simply wonderful.
Here’s a little clip of the musky scene back stage and
thanks to the folks at amesprogressive.org for catching some nice shots while my camera phone managed to catch nothing but smudges thanks to a nice layer of sunscreen covering the lenses.
Always liked Jackson Browne...Even the corny Lawyers In Love material. I'm sorry, I have a soft spot for "Tender Is The Night." An acoustic tour might be just the thing, if he can keep ticket prices in check, which it looks like he can't.
The spiel:
LOS ANGELES, CA, June 18, 2011: Singer-songwriter
Jackson Browne has added a string of Fall dates to his
2012 U.S. Acoustic Tour. The tour, which begins this summer on
July 14 in Charlotte, NC runs thru mid-August,
before picking up again mid-October and ending on November 15
in Colorado Springs, CO. Playing guitar and piano,
Jackson will perform songs from his entire body of work, with varying set lists
each night. Singer-songwriter and fiddle player Sara Watkins
will open the Acoustic Tour as a special guest. Tickets are on-sale now for the
summer tour and the pre-sales for the fall tour begin this week; information is
available at www.jacksonbrowne.com.
Sara Watkinsfirst gained recognition as a founding
member of the GRAMMY-winning trio Nickel Creek. Sun
Midnight Sun, the second solo album from acclaimed singer,
songwriter, and fiddle player will be released May 8 on
Nonesuch Records. Produced by guitarist, singer, and songwriter
Blake Mills, co-founder of the band Simon Dawes, the album
features special guest appearances by Fiona Apple,
Jackson Browne, Taylor Goldsmith (Dawes),
Benmont Tench,and Sean Watkins. “I’m really
excited to have Sara joining me on this tour,” says Jackson.
“We've played together a number of times in the last few years, sometimes on her
show and sometimes mine, and it's always been a thrill for me. I'm floored by
her amazing instrumental virtuosity and by her beautiful voice, and most of all,
I love her songs.”
The summer run of the 2012 U.S. Acoustic Tour
includes Jackson's first-ever performance at the
legendary Newport Folk Festival in Newport, RI
(7/29), founded in 1954; the tour's other festival stop is the
11th annual carbon-conscious Floyd Fest on the crest
of the Blue Ridge Mountains in Floyd, VA (7/26). Other tour
highlights include concerts at Ryman Auditorium in
Nashville, TN (7/18), Filene Center at Wolf
Trap in Vienna, VA (7/23), the Beacon
Theatre in New York City (8/3), and Cain
Park in Cleveland Heights, OH (8/15). The fall leg
runs through mid-November, with dates that span from the Virginia’s to Colorado
with several stops in between. Tour highlights include concerts at the
stunningRiverside Theater in Milwaukee, WI (10/21),
Chicago Theater in Chicago, IL (10/26) and the
Paramount Theater in Denver, CO (11/14).
Jackson will be donating $1 from each ticket sold on the
U.S. Acoustic Tour to charity. In addition, premium
benefit seats are available for purchase through The Guacamole
Fund: www.guacfund.org.
Pre-sale is available at www.jacksonbrowne.com.
Jackson
Brownehas written and performed some of the most literate and moving
songs in popular music and has defined a genre of songwriting charged with
honesty, emotion and personal politics. He was honored with induction into the
Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in 2004, and the Songwriter’s Hall of Fame in 2007.
Beyond his music, he is known for his advocacy on behalf of the environment,
human rights, and arts education. He's a co-founder of the groups Musicians
United for Safe Energy (MUSE), Nukefree.org,
and, Success Through the Arts Foundation, which provides education opportunities
for students in South Los Angeles.
Jackson
Browne 2012 Acoustic Tour Dates with special guest Sara
Watkins:
DATE
CITY
VENUE 7/14/12 Charlotte, NC
Belk Theater of the North Carolina Blumenthal
Performing
Arts Center 7/15/12 North Charleston, SC North
Charleston Performing Arts Center 7/17/12 Greenville,
SC Peace Center Concert Hall 7/18/12
Nashville, TN Ryman Auditorium 7/20/12
Richmond, VA Carpenter Center 7/22/12
Durham, NC Durham Performing Arts
Center 7/23/12 Vienna, VA
Filene Center at Wolf Trap 7/25/12 Philadelphia,
PA Academy of Music 7/26/12 Floyd,
VA Blue Cow Pavilion/Floyd
Fest 7/29/12 Newport, RI Newport
Folk Festival 7/30/12 Gilford, NH
Meadowbrook U.S. Cellular Pavilion 8/1/12 Holyoke,
MA Mountain Park 8/3/12 New
York, NY Beacon Theatre 8/5/12
West Long Branch, NJ MAC Center – Monmouth
University 8/7/12 Shippensburg, PA Luhrs
Performing Arts Center 8/8/12 Greenberg,
PA The Palace Theater 8/9/12
Williamsport, PA Community Arts
Center 8/11/12 Cincinnati, OH PNC
Pavilion at Riverbend Music Center 8/12/12 Louisville,
KY Whitney Hall 8/14/12
Indianapolis, IN Murat Theatre 8/15/12
Cleveland Heights, OH Cain Park 10/15/12
Morgantown, WV West Virginia University
Creative Arts
Center 10/17/12 Newport News, VA
Ferguson Center for the Performing
Arts 10/20/12 Detroit, MI
Music Hall Center for the Performing
Arts 10/21/12 Milwaukee,
WI The Riverside
Theater 10/23/12 Springfield,
IL Sangamon
Auditorium 10/25/12 South Bend,
IN Morris Performing Arts
Center 10/26/12 Chicago,
IL Chicago
Theatre 10/28/12 Minneapolis,
MN State Theater 10/29/12
Duluth, MN Duluth Entertainment Convention
Center 11/1/12 Davenport,
IA Adler
Theater 11/2/12 St. Louis,
MO Fox
Theatre 11/4/12 Grand Prairie,
TX Verizon
Theatre 11/5/12 Linden,
TX Music Vity Texas
Theatre 11/7/12 Houston,
TX Bayou Music
Center 11/8/12 Austin,
TX Bass Concert
Hall 11/10/12 Catoosa,
OK The Joint at Hard Rock Hotel &
Casino 11/11/12 Wichita,
KS Orpheum
Theatre 11/12/12 Omaha,
NE Orpheum
Theatre 11/14/12 Denver,
CO Paramount
Theatre 11/15/12 Colorado Springs,
CO Pikes Peak Center
I'm not sure what I think about a John Frusciante-less Chili Peppers, like I've bothered keeping up with them since BloodSugarSexMagic. As a matter of fact, I'm not sure what I think about a John Frusciante solo record, from what I've heard in the past.
Keep in mind, Frusciante let one of his solo records fall out of print with no plans of ever releasing it because it was so shitty.
There is a guy at work about 10 years older than me that is taking his Christian wife to see the Chili Peppers this year at some arena in Kansas City. I looked at him, not pegging him as a fan and not pegging the band as catering to the Fundamentalist crowd.
Actual quote from that conversation: "What's the funny guy's name...I forget...Real good bass player?"
The spiel:
Long gone are the days when she scrubbed me.
LOS ANGELES, CA - June
18, 2012 - Red Hot Chili Peppers
announced today they would unveil 18 previously unreleased sides from the I'm
With You sessions. Each of the songs will be available worldwide both
digitally and on vinyl, with two sides per seven-inch. The first pair of sides -
"Strange Man" on the A-side and "Long Progression" on the B-side - will be
released on August 14, 2012. The second pair of sides - Magpies and Victorian
Machinery - will be released on September 11, 2012. The third pair of sides -
"Never Is A Long Time" and "Love Of Your Life" - will be release on October 2,
2012. The fourth pair of sides (titles TBD) will be released November 6, 2012.
The fifth pair of sides (titles TBD) will be released December
4,, 2012 and the sixth pair of sides (titles TBD) will be released
December 18, 2012. The final two releases will be released in early
2013.
Each of the nine
seven-inches released will be able to combined by fans to create one larger
piece of artwork.
"Finding songs that seem to
want to join hands with others is a special task that require the right
people... and the right songs!" said RHCP guitarist Josh Klinghoffer. "Some
songs seem to have a lot more of an agenda than others. Some songs play well
with others and some songs need more attention and a little extra care. Here are
some songs that seemed to want to pair up and take a later train. Keep your eye
on them, they're up to something..."
Each of the nine
seven-inches will feature cover artwork by Kelsey Brookes (www.kelseybrookes.com). Brookes' well-documented
background in microbiology, surf culture and folk art combine in explosive
prisms of raucous color, bold imagery and timeless motifs. His work has appeared
in countless group shows, art fairs, and magazines such as GQ, Modern Painters,
Juxtapoz, Beautiful Decay and Dazed and Confused.
The Red Hot Chili Peppers
are currently on a world tour in support of I'm With You, and playing
sold out arenas around the globe.
# # #
ABOUT RED HOT CHILI
PEPPERS
One of the most successful
acts in rock history, Red Hot Chili Peppers, which is singer Anthony Kiedis,
bassist Flea, drummer, Chad Smith, and guitarist Josh Klinghoffer, have sold
more than 60 million albums, including five multi-platinum LPs, and won six
Grammy Awards, including "Best Rock Album" for Stadium Arcadium, "Best
Rock Performance By a Duo or Group" for "Dani California," "Best Rock Song" for
"Scar Tissue," and "Best Hard Rock Performance With Vocal" for "Give It Away."
The band was inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in April 2012. The Red
Hot Chili Peppers are currently on a world tour in support of their latest
studio album, I'm With You, that was released by Warner Bros. Records on
August 29, 2011.
[Berkeley, CA, June 10, 2012] Angelo Moore of the legendary band Fishbone will
be releasing the new track “Brand New Step” exclusively through DeliRadio.com on
June 26th. "Brand New Step" is a conscious, catchy pop song reminiscent of
Cee-Lo/ Dangermouse collaboration Gnarls Barkley. Dynamic duo the Rondo Brothers
(Foster The People, Galactic, Loquat, Diegos Umbrella) produced the track and it
will be released later by Berkeley based label Ninth Street
Opus.
DeliRadio (www.deliradio.com)
is a new streaming radio service focused on the music of living, touring and
performing artists and bands. Features include robust social interactivity and
the prominent listing of each artist’s concert and club dates alongside their
music and photos. Content on DeliRadio is 100% artist controlled. Many artists
take advantage not only of DeliRadio’s promotional capabilities but also utilize
its fee-free digital sales capabilities – including “pay-what-you-want” pricing
– and easy embedding tools.
Berkeley based label Ninth Street Opus
focuses on artists that are as gifted onstage in live performance as they are at
working magic in the recording studio. Combining a back-to-basics
artist development model with leading edge technological assets—and an
experienced internal team with a broad network of strategic partners—the
label offers insight and infrastructure for artists to build an audience and
achieve career success in a new entertainment era.
Log on to www.deliradio.com to
pick up “Brand New Step” by Angelo Moore on June 26th.
