Much more dynamic, energetic and confident as a live band now than in their earlier days, Pains are now a bona-fide headlining act.
Lou Barlow and Jason Lowenstein set the clock back to 1994 and give us the best of Sebadoh’s Bakesale and Harmacy.
Gosh, he even took an early break, in lieu of a break before the encore, for his explicitly stated “need to pee,” and then came back to the stage and continued to play with a purity that had no memory of bodily functions.
Tonight began with one of those wake-up calls that made me realize how disconnected I am from whatever’s making a buzzing noise in the music world.
A bicycle shop isn’t the first place one might think to find a great rock & roll performance, but in a town like Austin, every building is a potential music club.
Local café the Spider House has become particularly busy with SXSW every year, hosting a ton of free shows with some great acts, including this afternoon’s Australian-heavy lineup.
Attendance seems to be up this year, which will make show attendance more challenging, but, as usual, there’s too many good gigs happening not to try.
Wild Nothing, the brain child of Virginia’s Jack Tatum, has been to Chicago before but this is the first time he’s come with a secured headlining gig. Tatum more than deserves all acclaim considering the strong release of 2010’s Gemini. He’s only claiming his natural spot in an indie rock kingdom meant for blissful pop music. For, Wild Nothing is an appropriate band name, not because the music disintegrates with a reckless abandon, though one might see Tatum pursuing that direction in the future. Instead, the title suggests a sweet reverie like a piece of chocolate that melts in your mouth. Gone forever, sure, but it’s the kind of thing a longer of lush treats truly appreciates.
The show hit its peak with “The Disillusionist” featuring Kilbey’s off-mic vocals at the end of the song.
“We are Motörhead, we do not have beer thrown at us.” Lemmy Kilmister
She wowed the packed house with a set comprised mostly of epic showstoppers like “A Crime” and “Don’t Do It”.
This was a unique night featuring children with a median age of 12 or 13 singing classic punk songs.
This show was somewhat of a disappointment, though it was far from bad.
In the realm of back-catalog-heavy concerts by veteran artists, this definitely fell under the category of “nostalgia trip,” but some unresolved questions linger.
Chart-topping (how weird does that sound?) PacNW band The Decemberists play the first of two sold-out shows in Boston, in support of The King Is Dead.
Two sides of David Lowery’s songwriting talent, two albums delivered in full.
The High Dials are largely a band of unsung heroes, led consistently by the brilliant Trevor Anderson, who was previously known for his work with the band The Datsuns. The Montréal five piece have recently released their fourth full length album, 2010’s Anthems For Doomed Youth and visited Chicago to play some of their new songs as well as old favorites last Saturday night.
One hell of a performance filled with amazing songs and movie quotes. The David Koresh jokes were practically redundant since most of the crowd, myself included of course, was already drinking the Kool-Aid.
Soul Asylum’s annual holiday show at First Avenue has become a fixture on the bar’s calendar in the past five years. It’s as predictable a part of the holiday season in Minneapolis as the Guthrie Theater’s “Christmas Carol” and channel 45’s Yule Log.
The floor was bouncing, many high-fives exchanged, way too many bottles raised in salute, and a whole lot of people were singing along to every word. It was a fun show and a great way to wrap up the holidays.
Big Star’s legendary, mysterious third album is played live for the first time ever, with members of Big Star, REM, dBs and many others.
I came to the realization at the show that Lauryn Hill is the Axl Rose of the hip-hop world.
If there was any thought that the years since then would diminish their performance one iota, those thoughts were squashed by the crushing opener “Teenager in a Box”.
Superchunk make music about the pleasures of hard work, and they wouldn’t have returned for any other reason.
However, this show was only partially about nostalgia. It was also a celebration of the still bustling Minneapolis music scene.
Martin Devaney, The Mad Ripple, Sons of Gloria, Ryan Paul, glorious things of ragged rock ‘n’ roll beauty and the spirit of ’85.
Killing Joke reform, create an outstanding new record, and deliver a crushing performance.
She’ll take you there, and you’ll know what that means when she does.
Man or Astro-man? zip up their space suits and take flight once more.
I really liked the concept of Moogfest. A three-day festival in Robert Moog’s home base of Asheville, NC, saluting the man and the music that his synthesizer has helped to create. Spread out over five venues in Asheville, many of the festival’s big shows took place at the Asheville Civic Center, and the Thomas Wolfe Auditorium, which organizers set up so that concertgoers could easily walk inside from one venue to the other.
Rock ‘n’ roll laid claim to the vertical, and allowed its audience to look heavenward.
Photos from the first of three shows by The Allman Brothers Band in Boston.
I think it’s safe to say that everyone in the small room was sufficiently blown away or at the very least impressed.
The show just never seemed to get off the ground.
To be blunt, they came out of the gate and just completely dominated.
Still, it’s a miracle to even see him perform at all and the show was competent and fun.
At BOTB, the openers have largely become unbearable, thereby propping Danzig up further into metal god status because his set is so much better. The issue is that Danzig doesn’t need any propping up. The rumors of his voice deteriorating are mostly unfounded. And at 55, that he can do live what he does vocally is impressive. Live, the songs are better because studio effects are getting in the way of Evil Elvis’s roar.
Guided By Voices ends the Hallway of Shatterproof Glass tour at the sold-out Terminal 5 in New York City.
Frances McKee said from the stage they haven’t played Minneapolis in over 20 years and that they’d likely never be back. Here’s hoping she’s wrong.
He stopped frequently to smell his armpits and channel their rock ‘n’ roll energy, shouting “Fuck yeah!” before starting the next song.
Dweezil’s got the DNA, but Project/Object has the Zappa alumni: Ike Willis and Ray White are in the band, and their enthusiasm was infectious.
The fact that The Dandy Warhols could play such a strong tracklist for two straight hours and still leave out some of their arguably best tracks (“Cool as Kim Deal” or “Minnesoter” for example) only serves as a further testament to both their longevity and quality as a band that so few others in the music industry are able to proffer. It also led to an unforgettable show.
We’re in an age where it seems each and every day a new band forms and the challenge sometimes becomes to create something refreshing and new as well as distinctly memorable from both the wreckage and glory of the long history of music. In Two Door Cinema Club, you won’t find too much that is new right now but you will spot a potential in the band in terms of their catchy energy and their rising fan base.
It was inspiring beyond anything I expected to see the 52-year-old singer — who has endured criminal charges, lawsuits, physical assaults, and much abuse in his time — performing with all the vitality and passion that he brought to the stage in the 1980’s.
OFF! brings Old Skool Punk Rawk back at a blistering show in NYC
A cold blast of metal blows in, featuring the first post-Celtic Frost work of Tom Warrior and black metal from Norway in the form of 1349.
With all of the Shes & Hims out there with their male troubadour leading the non-musician ingenue by the hand, Isobel Campbell & Mark Lanegan are a refreshing change of pace. Their performance is disarming and captivating.
It’s always fun to see a band two nights in a row. The extra night allowed them to spread their wings and play songs from all of their records.
It was a fun, dystopian beach party disguised as a concert.
More praiseful prose and phlattering photographs: the Teenage Fanclub lovefest continues.
