What has my life turned into? I'm still trying to figure that out myself. While I'm trying pinpoint the cause and cure for my insomnia, I'd like to contemplate/spam you. Hope you don't mind all that much.
As an avid jazz lover who grew up with Miles Davis and John Coltrane, the state of jazz music today makes me a bit disheartened. With New York's only smooth jazz station going under last year, the controversy surrounding Herbie Hancock's win for Best Album at the 2008 Grammys, the Weather Channel reformatting their Local on the 8s soundtrack from smooth jazz to rock, and jazz artists discussing the siege of their genre, less and less people are getting turned onto it as time goes on. While jazz used to have the reputation of pulling directly at heartstrings with heavy use of the brass section (saxophone, trumpet) and instrumentals, now younger people are connecting more with crass hip-hop and empty rock and roll lyrics. All of this bad news makes me think that one of my favorite musical categories is going to end up with a grim future. Is this really going to be the case? If there's a way, how can the music industry draw people back into the world of jazz?
I think the reason why our generation isn't connecting to jazz as much as our parents or grandparents is because, aside from the amount of diverse music we have nowadays, is that we don't really have many jazz artists we can relate to. The youth of today often compare jazz to elevator music, music our parents like to listen to on car rides or the weak pieces we had to play or listen to in high school music classes. For the most part, our exposure to this sort of music has been mediocre at best, so no wonder only a small percentage of people aged 18 to 34 like jazz. In order to draw a more youthful audience to jazz, there needs to be a good representative for the genre. That representative needs to have charisma and talent, and should have the gift to correlate different styles of music with jazz.
The man who best exemplifies all of the above is Brit Jamie Cullum. Releasing his first studio album, Pointless Nostalgia in 2001 and his latest, The Pursuit, this month, Cullum has become the United Kingdom's biggest selling jazz artist of all time. While he often sings updated takes on standard classics, he also likes to sing covers of more modern songs, such as Pharrell Williams' "Frontin'" and Radiohead's "High and Dry". His energetic showmanship, cool demeanor and fashionable style make him relatable to the younger generation, despite the fact that he plays an older style of music.
If it takes a physical change to get ears to listen to jazz, then so. If the artist's music is just as decent as his style of dress, that makes things a lot better. The kids will take anybody who looks good seriously nowadays, though. Luckily an artist such as Cullum, who has both the look and the talent, draws in listeners from both the jazz world and the VH1 crowd. Should more jazz artists cross over as well as he, the jazz industry as a whole would be in a lot less danger from extinction.
Some people are bad for your health. To dwindle that down, some celebrities are lethal, in terms of fierceness and actual physical effects. While some feared getting stabbed by Madonna's cone bras or crushed to death at a Pearl Jam concert, everyone is overlooking one of music's most dynamic artist on the scene today; Lady Gaga. After many sources reporting that photographer A.J. Sokalner died from a heart attack after photographing Gaga at an event in New York City, one has to wonder how else this ferocious diva can affect a seemingly normal, healthy person. Let's investigate.
Firstly, one can become obsessed with Lady Gaga in a very short period of time. From the first or second listen, Lady Gaga's debut album 'The Fame' sticks to listeners. Whether they like to admit it or not, everybody has a soft spot from her. Young girls want to dress up in her high-cut leotards, the gay community religiously follow her after she declared her love for them, and even celebrities such as Miley Cyrus and X Factor judge Cheryl Cole admit their infatuation for her. Celebrity obsession is a dangerous thing, however. What can start out as an innocent admiration (a mild affliction) can turn into intensive, compulsive feelings where one feels he is truly connected to the soul of Lady Gaga. When this goes too far, one can no longer control his thoughts on Lady Gaga, which can drive him to depression or anxiety.
Secondly, Lady Gaga can influence one to do not-so-innocent things. The Gaga is not one to be modest, in terms of dress or conversation. She has openly declared her disdain for pants, calling them 'uncomfortable' and 'not sexy'. Before hitting it big, the singer danced in burlesque clubs to earn a living and ordered tons of cocaine while perfecting her look all day in her apartment. She sings openly about her sexuality in many of her songs, and candidly discusses it during interviews. Since the performer is everywhere nowadays and is a very popular force in pop culture, many young people look up to her. They see the Gaga as socially desirable, so a lot of growing girls want to follow her lifestyle, even though it is not the purest. While the pop singer's goal is not to be a role model, and although she may or may not have as much influence on girls as imagined, girls will follow anything that's cool. That may not be a good sign for parents. The parental figures better take a close look at whether their babies are wearing pants when leaving the house.
Finally, Lady Gaga can cause wildfires with her chest. There is even proof of this, so best beware:
Note: This was cross-posted to my blog for my Online Journalism class. Hope my professor is proud!
I haven’t written a real entry in a long while. College and work and personal issues have bombarded me and left me with no real time to contemplate a lot. I’m finally writing again for two reasons:
I have finally been inspired. Took me long enough, Jeebus.
Many people have forced me to write again. I’m glad I have a bit of a fan base.
Usually I mention how I feel about shows. I know I’ve definitely been to a few great ones this year. I kid you not; the show I went to last night was absolute madness. It reminded me of why I started to love music in the first place, and why I secretly want to be a front [wo]man in a truly great band.
The main band in this truly triumphant night was The Airborne Toxic Event. Aside from having their one ‘major’ single/video “Sometime Around Midnight” looping on VH1 earlier this year, they’re not really widely known to the public. T.A.T.E. was highlighted in Rolling Stone in 2006 as one of the Top 25 bands on MySpace, and was one of the breakout acts at the CMJ Music Festival in 2006 and 2007. Nowadays they are known for being one of L.A.’s biggest rock acts, and their popularity is starting to become widespread. Their two shows at Webster Hall were sold out, so it’s obvious New York loves them. Luckily, my friend Chaz and I managed to get right up front and center, which will lead to many benefits during the night.
The first opening act, Red Cortez, instantly drew me into their work. Their overall sound reminds me strongly of an Americanized Razorlight with frontman Harley Prectel-Cortez having vocals resembling Arctic Monkeys’ Alex Turner. So, I guess they’re a better version of a lot of British rock bands. Their material is definitely worth checking out, but that wasn’t the most memorable part of their performance. At the end of their set, Harley takes off his All-Access pass and hands it to me, then does a writing gesture on his hand. I assume I was supposed to give him my number? I wouldn’t know. I didn’t have a pen on me, anyway. Flattering, though. I’m glad I’m lead singer material.
The Henry Clay People came on next, and they were just as great as Red Cortez. I knew I heard one of their songs around before, and I just realized this morning that one of their songs was featured on an episode of Gossip Girl. Go figure. They come on stage and they’re probably the nerdiest looking band I’ve seen in a while. However, the men can really rock out in their plaid. While their music was quality, they were really good due to the fact that they were just having a good time on stage. They also did a spectacular cover of Mott the Hoople’s “All The Young Dudes” with Red Cortez. Chaz called that someone would sing that song during the night, so I was amazed that that actually happened. Good taste, men, good taste.
Sometime around 9:15, The Airborne Toxic Event strutted on stage, and their confidence showed both in appearance and performance. The quintet, composed of vocalist Mikel Jollett, guitarist Steven Chen, bassist Noah Harmon, drummer with an impressive ‘stache Daren Taylor, and cutely dressed violinist/tambourinist Anna Bulbrook, had a set list that included all of their songs from their self-titled debut, along with some brand new untitled songs. As if I couldn’t love these guys more, it turned out that T.A.T.E. sounds a lot better live. Jollett’s vocals are extremely rich and unique, which some people may not like. Despite his youngish age (34), he is an old soul who seems to have been through a lot. Harmon’s bass skills are beyond skilled to the point where he could effortlessly play with a violin bow. As the sole female on stage all night, Bulbrook stood out with her ability to effortlessly play the violin while rocking out with the bad boys.
I didn’t think my night would get better than it was, but it did when Jollett sat a foot away from me to play acoustically. Literally, I was at the point where I could touch his guitar without moving my arm. He played two songs, an untitled new joint and “Wishing Well”, which was absolutely beautiful. The rest of their set list was done flawlessly, particularly my favorite song from them, “Papillon”. Their encore set was absolutely sick. They started with “Happiness Is Overrated” and ended with a long edition of “Missy”. However, sandwiched in between the two was a punk classic by the late Jim Carroll, “People Who Died”. Red Cortez and The Harry Clay People joined them on stage for this, and a riot ensued. Heineken and expensive Jameson was sprayed on band mates and into the crowd (I ended up smelling like cheap white trash when I got out of the venue and had to ride the subway back to my apartment) and Jollett jumped on the barricade right in front of me so he could get close to the audience. I’m happy to report that I did get to touch the sexiness that is he. Oh, also, the video is posted below, courtesy of Chaz.
Concerts like this don’t happen too often. Hell, quintessential New York nights like this don’t happen this often. I’m proud to say that I’ve had a true memorable musical night. I highly doubt that never again will I earn a backstage pass without trying or get drenched in expensive liquor for a long while. All that I know for sure is that this topped the night where I moshed with P. Diddy.
When I think about my future, I typically focus on the things that I want to be and do. They’re relatively normal goals; be a rockstar journalist, have a house with a balcony on the water, obtain a husband who looks good in a tight t-shirt and blazer, and perhaps adopt a few dogs or a black baby. It’ll be the relatively low-key life I want, but I’m not going to be a bore. I do intend to have a good time.
I went to The Cult at Terminal 5 on Friday night, where my friend Chaz and I were surrounded by an array of concertgoers. Old bikers with worn-out bandanas, middle-aged groupies, sexually frustrated husbands who were physically unable to keep their bodies off said groupies, tired frat boys who can’t help but take off their shirts and pummel their sweaty bodies onto my face, and the usual scatterings of the average music lover who just need a good night out composed the crowd. Of course, we were the youngest ones there. Being surrounded by all of these rowdy people, it makes me want to take qualities that each of these people had and become one immense mid-life-crisis-aged music lover.
Except I won’t be as slutty as a groupie. I’ll also keep most of my clothes on.
I’ve never been good with surgeries. I’ve had a problematic body ever since I came out of the womb. My surgeries run from having the inside of my nose reconstructed from the inside (although I still have a deviated septum, which will result in a nose job sometime soon) to getting a spinal tap due to the possibility of meningitis when I was about eight months old. All in all, my surgeries usually cause more immediate damage. This was the same case when I got my wisdom teeth pulled yesterday.
When I walked into the oral surgeon’s office, I expected only two wisdom teeth to be taken out. That was not the case when I wake up from my anesthesia.I wake up with blood dripping from my mouth and unable to walk to my car. It was like I got drunk off too much tequila and took some acid at the same time. I don’t remember the drive back home, but I do recall lying on my bathroom floor for a while because I couldn’t properly stand. Eventually, I got into decent shape and my mom told me what happened.
The oral surgeon didn’t tell me, but he told my mom that he’d be taking out all four wisdom teeth, despite the lower two teeth had not grown in yet. This perturbed my mom, and both my mom and dad expected some hardships with this procedure. This was the case, because I wasn't breathing for a time while under anesthesia. I expect this to be a bit of a problem. That shouldn’t happen, right?
I blame someone at work for jinxing me, and also for inspiring me to give me a reason to post. For your troubles, I offer some songs on pain. Or the supernatural. Or dying. Not that I would’ve died while getting my wisdom teeth taken out. But, you never know.
FYI: I put up a picture of Jennifer Coolidge because that's how I looked yesterday. Good times.
Sometimes I think to myself that, at the ripe age of twenty, I might be too old for intense concerts. In between Modey Lemon and the Arctic Monkeys sets, my surroundings at Highline Ballroom began to overwhelm me. I’m already accustomed to the amount of pushing and overcrowding within a rock crowd. For some reason, I couldn’t handle the teenagers last night. It’s a known fact that high schoolers are kind of annoying. The combination of someone’s lack of personal hygiene, another girl’s Rapunzel-like hair ending up in my mouth and the wave of those needing pictures of the roadies setting up the stage made me a bit enraged. I was oh-so close to losing it and moving towards the back of the venue. Just in the nick of time, Sean ‘Diddy’ Combs parted the crowd like the Red Sea.
Who would’ve thought that Diddy would redeem an entire concert for me? We’ll get to that part in a bit.
The opening band, Modey Lemon, set the mood for the Monkeys with their high-energy performance. Appearance wise, they were a bit mismatched. Singer/synthesizer Jason Kirker was wearing a sweater vest, while guitarist Paul Boyd resembled a 90’s grunger and drummer Paul Quattrone looked like he was soaked in blood. What lacked in their lack of coordinated outfits was forgotten with their strong garage-based set. They were naturals on stage, and they knew exactly where to position their fingers on their instruments with their eyes closed. While it wasn’t entirely necessary to have their final song become a 15-minute jam session, seeing how much effort they put into their craft is much appreciated.
Arctic Monkeys’ twenty-song set was full of instrumental highs and technical lows. They had some sound and guitar difficulties scattered throughout their 80-minute set. Lead man Alex Turner jokingly brushed off the troubles. Playing a good assortment of songs from past and present (their latest release, Humbug), surprisingly muscular Turner, guitarist Jamie Cook, bassist Nick O’Malley and drummer Matt Helders brought their ‘A’ game to the states. Crowd-pleasers such as ‘Brianstorm’ and ‘I Bet You Look Good on the Dancefloor’ made the floor shake, and lighters and cell-phone lights were brought out during slower tunes such as ‘My Propeller’. However, the rambunctious crowd reminded me of piglets running amuck in their pigpen. The crowd was a mess, and it made me a bit sick. I thought that they could possibly ruin this experience, the night I’ve been anticipating for at least a month, for me.
Cue to Diddy splitting the crowd with his sumo bodyguard with him. When he first appeared in the balcony with his posse, I expected him to stay put up there all night. However, I don’t know what provoked him to get into this crowd, but it was like he wanted to experience the music that night. He got in deep and plopped himself next to me. It didn’t hit me that I was touching arms with him until I looked over and literally saw his Proactiv-treated face right next to me. I had to embrace the moment. I moshed with him until I lost him during ‘Potion Approaching’.
With people lining up in front of the venue since the morning (luckily, the kids who got to Highline at 5 AM managed to score some last minute tickets), this show was the concert of the summer for some. While both Arctic Monkeys and Modey Lemon had extraordinary sets, the crowd was on the verge of ruining my experience. I can thank Mr. Combs for redeeming my night and making it an experience I’ll never forget.
I can't really be a fan of Coldplay. It's not because they remind me of U2 in the sense that they're European and make bland music. It's not because Chris Martin hooked up with one of the more standoffish and sneakily bitchy celebrities in the business, Gwyneth Paltrow. It's not even because I find 'Yellow' to be one of the most elementary love songs in the past decade. No, I don't blame my irritation towards them for any of these reasons. I blame a guy for making me despise Coldplay. So, in honour of their closing All Points West tonight, it's time for a personal anecdote.
About four years ago, I had just broken up a very short-term relationship with a guy who owned neon green Converse. Enough said. A month later, two events occurred. One, a friend wanted to set me up with her boyfriend's best friend. She gave me a picture and said that he'd get in touch. He was REALLY cute, but I wasn't expecting anything out of it. Second, Coldplay's lead single from their new album, 'Speed of Sound', was released on radio. Both the song and this guy blew my mind. I found both the guy and the song to be well-worded and eloquent in manner, and both also made my heart skip a beat. They each made me conteplate things that I haven't considered prior, and they made me want more of what they were supplying to my ear and heart.
I thought it was fate when Coldplay announced a tour that was coming to the tri-state area. I thought this show would change my life. I imagined him and myself on a blanket under this star-filled sky in New Jersey, listening to the song that instantly made me think of him. In retrospect, New Jersey wasn't the most ideal place in terms of romance. However, honestly, this person changed my perception of what I wanted in a boyfriend or friend, and the only way I can describe how I ever felt about him was through that song. So, naturally, I bought a pair of tickets for the two of us, anticipating that things would be perfect up to that point.
About two weeks before the concert, I stopped hearing from him. No calls, no texts, no e-mails, no instant messages. There was no explanation behind his absense. He just wanted to be out of my life. I usually don't become vulnerable in relationships that don't really exist, but this was the only time where I let some bugger break my heart. It hurt to listen to anything Coldplay ever released, so I permanently banned them from my iPod, iTunes, stereo, car, future mix CDs, or any mean of media.
I never did go to the show. Instead, I sold the tickets and bought myself tickets to see Hootie and the Blowfish.
I think the main reason why I remain bitter towards both the guy and Coldplay is that, in a weird act of fate, I eyeballed the very same person on my very first day of college in my school bookstore. Precisely, we ended up strangers at the same college.
Perhaps the lack of closure make me still despise the guy and Coldplay. Luckily, Coldplay has ended up slowly decaying, in terms of quality of music. Their latest musical efforts have been only lackluster, and I couldn't be happier about that. I'm glad that I don't have the option of relating their music to any more of my romantic endeavors. However, if I did manage to be attracted to their musical stylings nowadays, I'd still be slightly distraught.
Mika doesn't release enough music. Once considered our generation's Freddie Mercury, he has been overshadowed by more flamboyant and outgoing acts, such as Sam Sparro, Patrick Wolf, and Of Montreal. However, Mika is back with his first single, We Are Golden, off his latest release, set to be released on September 21st. The video for the single is definitely unique, showing a guy's perspective of dancing alone with blaring boombox and boxers intact. For a man, he certainly has a lot of junk in his room. Laser suits, lightning ceilings, golden shoes, flipping dogs. Jesus Christ, this boy is a mess! But, I wouldn't mind hanging out in there.
One of the few good things about my internship is how I can waste a good chunk of time perusing music blogs and blaring somewhat bad indie music from my computer speakers. Usually I don't find new acts to gloat about, but I think I stumbled upon my newest obsession. Stepping out of London is quintet Fanfarlo. They're a combination of Beirut and Ra Ra Riot, properly using the violin, accordion, and trumpet, amongst other things, to convey a beautiful new perspective on life's flaws and how things can go so wrong so fast. Slightly tragic music with a unique instrumental. I'm all over it.
I would do anything to see Ra Ra Riot live. I've been a fan since my first days at college, and I have not yet seen them live once. What's up with that? I wish they did an acoustic set like they did in San Francisco over in NYC. I'd be all over that.
There are two components in the music world that have begun to become very stale to me lately; post-rock and Brooklyn-based bands. While both have gained notice and some credibility, they also have become worn and weary to my ears. While post-rock bands such as The Album Leaf and Talk Talk now sound all the same, the majority of Brooklyn bands such as Dirty Projectors and The Antlers have been overplayed and over hyped all over the internet and within the five boroughs. However, there is hope for both genres, thanks to Stellastarr*. The band performed a great set at Highline Ballroom on July 16th, and proved that there are still bands in these specific genres that deserve the hype.
Opening for the quarter were The Postmarks and Wild Light, and the results were hit-and-slightly-mediocre. The Postmarks have been hyped as one of the acts to follow in 2009 by many credible sources such as Spin, Pitchfork, and Stereogum, and have even been featured in an episode in the popular Nick Jr. show, Yo Gabba Gabba! It comes as no surprise that this threesome didn’t disappoint. Performing an eight-song set, the band managed to get the small-but-growing hyped for the acts to follow using a combination of popish keyboards and strong, powerful guitars. As for the talented vocalist Tim Yehezkely, my friend summarized her sound as a “female Ian Curtis”.
While I personally enjoyed Wild Light for shallow reasons (their tight jeans were sexy! and oh, look at that guitarist’s sleeve tattoos!), their music was atypical pop rock. The band was clearly talented, seeing how three of the four switched off with playing the guitar, bass, and keyboards during their thirty-minute set. However, this did not redeem them from how much every song sounded the same, in terms of instrumentals and lyrics. This set taught me a lesson that sometimes hotness does not always equal quality work.
Stellastarr* recordings’ don’t do them justice. Their music comes alive from the moment the first guitar string is strummed. Consisting of vocalist Shawn Christensen, guitarist Michael Jurin, bassist Amanda Tannen, and drummer Arthur Kremer, the band outdid my wildest expectations of how I imagined them being live. The band performed a majority of their latest album, Civilized, and a handful of their greatest hits, including My Coco and closing with my personal favorite, Jenny, where Christensen also managed to belt the final verses while sprawled on the floor. Jurin was also on floor for a few songs, and it seemed it was practically second nature. Their actions seemed like they would get the crowd rowdy and excited, but the nature of the crowd seemed more relaxed that amped. There were the hardcore fans that belted every verse of every song and danced their arses off, but a good majority of the crowd stood there, bobbing their heads with beer in hand. I imagined the crowd being a little more rowdy, since this was their hometown show. Still, I’m glad I didn’t have to uppercut a touchy-feely drunkard.
Hometown shows are usually supposed to make nights to remember, where nothing could go wrong. Or…things go wrong, and fans are too overwhelmed to notice. In terms of this Stellastarr* show, I walked out impacted, and yet a bit disappointed. I blame Wild Lights’ tight pants and the crowd’s stubborn attitude towards dancing for this slighty ajar feeling in my heart. Stella didn’t disappoint, though. Instead, they rekindled and reignited my heart for them, and I desire more material stat.
500 Days of Summer inspired me to live a more musically-tinged life. For the past 24 hours, I've been nothing but obsessed over the movie since I walked out of the theatre. I haven't seen a movie that had the soundtrack fit the plot line so well in such a long time. Hell, there was even a dance sequence! With Hall and Oates! This is one of my life dreams. One day I wish I have the opportunity to dance in harmony with the rest of my surrounding world. It's official. However, in my head, there are only two types of songs I'd like to dance (or, in some cases, rock out to) in public. Either the song has to be something alternatively 90's or keytarred-tinted, synthesizer-twinged and essentially 80's. Upbeat hip hop wouldn't hurt, either. Actually, scratch that, anything upbeat is available for dancing purposes.
During my day, I kept trying to think of the best songs that would be perfect for my future rendezvouses with making an arse out of myself. I think I came to a pretty good consensus as to my personal five. Or six. I can never stay within my personal limits.
P.S. As an additional bonus, since I'm in a giving mood tonight, I found the literal video for Tears For Fears' "Head Over Heels". I think it's hysterical because I'm the librarian with the big glasses.
It’s typically a fulfilling experience to go to a concert with artists you barely know. Not only do you get to test the waters of hearing near complete unknowns, but also you get an insight into what your friends are listening to these days. One of my best friends desperately wanted to go see Brooklynite singer-songwriter Chris Garneau for the longest time. Finally giving her the opportunity to go, I experience some strangeness that night.
The show, on July 9th at Greenwich Village venue Le Poisson Rouge, ended up being an indie-filled night, full of eccentric instruments, personalities, and musical selections. Opening acts Scary Mansion and The Lisps were radically different from most acts I’ve previously seen, but both were on opposite ends in regards to quality.
I had an inkling that Scary Mansion was going to be trouble after moniker Leah Hayes appeared on stage at 8, although every source reported that the show would start at 7. The set already started at a low peak, and things began to fall from there. Hayes walked on stage with a beer in her hand, which explained the delay. When she opened her mouth, she sounded like a indier spawn of Feist, but her voice and thunderstick doesn’t mix well with the alternative-tinged bass and drums. Also, the poor backup vocals seemed useless as her voice was usurped by the instrumentals. Hayes tried to interact with the bassist, but it looked like he wasn’t having any of it. Hayes looked like she was going to eventually stumble over herself and fall off stage, seeing how she was wobbling to an extreme. The crowd wasn’t thrilled during the set, and seemed relieved when the band finally ended.
Luckily, things changed for the better when The Lisps quickly came on stage about 15 minutes after the Scary Mansion set. Consisting of vocalist Sammy Tunis, guitarist and vocalist Cesar Alvarez, bassist Jeremy Hoevenaar, and drummer/object hitter Eric Farber, their set was like an indie old-time variety show. Their show was a bloody good time. Their songs and lyrics were varied and witty, their anecdotes were cute, and some of their instruments were quirky, ranging from tambourines to recycled film reels to melodicas to a huge wrecked tin box. The Lisps were a breath of fresh air that I haven’t really encountered in a while. They managed to win a new fan within 45 minutes.
Chris Garneau soon walked on stage, and I was shocked. The man was incredibly tiny and wore very tight pants. It was kind of cute. He came up and taped a keyboard to the already-grand piano already plopped on stage. In addition to the key-piano hybrid, cellos and an accordion sprinkled the stage. The various instruments reminded me of the Andrew Bird set-up when I saw him at Hiro Ballroom, but they also guaranteed an eclectic show. When Garneau opened his mouth, his voice was unlike anything that I’ve heard prior. I could call him a male Bjork, but he was more distinct than that. His voice has such rawness and emotion pouring with every word he sings that he cannot be compared with any other artist at the moment. The combination of his vocals and instrumentals made for a beautiful performance of his latest. In fact, the live performance proves that the material off El Radio is quite strong.
While the majority of the show was good, it's a shame to think that Chris Garneau and The Lisps don’t have as many fans as they should. The problem that I see with the music industry is that people aren’t willing to open their arms to new, truly different material. Unless if either or conform their genres to sound like music that is popular, both bands aren’t going to be able to reach a wider audience. While this is so, perhaps it’s not so bad that they remain with these intimate venues.
I have to admit, I’m not particularly a fan of reunion tours. Either the band in question is reuniting to obtain some of the fame and glimmer that they have once felt, or they want to cash in because their royalty payments are dwindling. In addition to both of these usual traits, the group often isn’t as strong as they used to be. With this in mind, I watched in horror as No Doubt took the stage on American Idol on May 6, 2009 and butchered one of their greatest hits, “Just a Girl”. While the band was relatively on par, lead songstress Gwen Stefani trebled the hell throughout the approximate four-minute song length and focused more on doing push ups and screaming to the fangirls who only know her for her mediocre solo work.
Despite the time I spent cringing about this performance, I decided to spend a quarter of a paycheck to see her at Nikon Jones Beach, along with opening acts Paramore and Janelle Monae.
Opening acts typically don't stand out for me, and this time was no exception. Jones Beach never had the best acoustics, particularly because the amphitheatre is outside. Perhaps they could be to blame for my distaste towards the first opener, Janelle Monae. Monae, introduced as Diddy’s newest protégé, was very out there. She was like a combination of a black Lady Gaga and Kanye West on 808’s and Heartbreaks. It seemed like she only performed three songs, one being a Michael Jackson tribute. It was confusing to see what sort of music she was aiming to make. She was futuristic, yet soulful. She was manically energetic, yet smooth. Along with dropping her mic stand about five times, her set was messy and left me confused.
I know Paramore more for the lead singer’s, Hayley Williams’s, bold hairstyles and personal dating life more than their music, but their music reminds me of the music that I listened to when I was thirteen. However, I outgrew the majority of my old taste and I just found Paramore annoying. Their fangirls are much more annoying, however. It felt like a third of the crowd solely paid to see Paramore’s 50-minute set, then went home after their mini-show was done.Their music was forgettable, and I felt like turning emo when they performed that Twilight song. Strangely enough, it sounded like Williams’ voice began to give in near the end of the set. She better rest up her vocals or she’ll wear herself out within a few years.
Luckily, the concert majorly redeemed itself when No Doubt went on stage at 9:33. Along with two touring members, the band showed us loyal fans why we loved them in the first place. Touring solely for inspiration for their new album, Stefani and Company performed their greatest and most beloved hits. Along with that, each member often got to illustrate his or her immense talents throughout the show, specifically drummer Adrian Young and touring members Stephen Bradley and Gabrial McNair. Of course, Stefani is the quintessential leader, both showing off her impressive vocals and interacting with the audience to the point where she brought up a lucky audience member and hugged him. The quality that I appreciate most about No Doubt is the fact that everyone in the band seems like good friends. While they started in 1986, they interact the same as they did back then. They have a goofy, playful aura to their personalities, and it reflects in their vast catalog.
I often go to concerts and shows for the main act, and I try to block out any bad acts, should they be bad. I have already gotten the bad taste of Paramore out of my mouth, and I’ll probably give Monae a second listen. Solely focusing on No Doubt’s show, it was one of the better performances I have seen within the past year.
When actors become ambitious and try to make it big in the music world, the majority of them become mockeries at the end of the day. The two main men who immediately come to mind are Eddie Murphy and Bruce Willis. Despite their immense amount of fame in the 80’s, they couldn’t bring that same legion of fans to the record stores. Most actors can’t because they’re not made to be musical artists. Then again, actors such as Murphy and Willis probably made the leap because their egos told them to do so. So, how would a critically acclaimed actor such as Jeff Daniels fare with his latest bluegrass show?
For those who don’t know Jeff Daniels by name, a brief biography would be best. Known for his breakout role in 1994’s “Dumb and Dumber”, he has been in a string of critical hits (“Pleasantville”, “The Squid and the Whale”, “The Hours”, “Good Night and Good Luck”), duds (“My Favorite Martian”, “Mama’s Boy”), and relatively lame kiddie flicks (“RV”, “101 Dalmatians”, “Fly Away Home”, “Because of Winn Dixie”). He showed off his singing chops in some of these movies, but not many knew of his second career as a twangy musician.
One wouldn’t expect bluegrass as decent background music for a classy place like City Winery, filled with wine bottles, kegs, and an abundance of cheese. Come to think of it, the setting does seem appropriate for a Midwestern good time. Surrounded by male tourists with long ponytails and families who traveled to Manhattan to see Jeff Daniels, my date and myself were served platters of exotic cheeses and salamis as Daniels awkwardly walked on stage with his guitar and fedora.
From the first word uttered by Daniels to the first strum of his guitar, I was pleasantly surprised as to how good of a showman he was. He began his first song with requesting that the audience get pictures out of the way, which led to him making silly faces for the crowds’ many flashes. Each song came with personal commentary, varying from how bad of a driver her daughter is to how he lost his wife at a gas station while driving a recreational vehicle cross country. His songs were relatable and poignant, doused with hints of sentiment and humor. His strongest song, “The Dirty Harry Blues”, stemmed from a ‘deadly’ encounter he had with the legendary Clint Eastwood during his stint in “Blood Work”. Any artist who sings about getting brutally killed by Dirty Harry should automatically be considered a badass.
For my first bluegrass show, it was certainly a unique night, despite me not really knowing whether this was a legitimate bluegrass concert. In terms of actors-turned-singers, Jeff Daniels ranks higher than most. However, he knows that he shouldn’t give up his day job to do permanent touring. Perhaps this is the best route to lead, since he might lose his anecdotal charm should he ever follow through with such.
There are certain acts that are clearly out of my musical league. As an avid lover of the embarrassing Guilty Pleasure, I appreciate lyrics that are even too cheesy for Hannah Montana fans to bear and instrumentals that are sub-par and oh-so catchy. While I do happen to listen to critically panned on an hourly basis, I also appreciate the unsung heroes of the music industry. You know the type: a person or group that isn’t afraid to express themselves wholeheartedly and tests the boundaries with their daring attempts at entering harmonious infamy. This is where Gregg Alexander enters the picture.
After two failed attempts at solo stardom earlier in the 1990s, Alexander decided in late 1998 that his luck might change with the creation of New Radicals, comprised of himself, vocalist Danielle Brisebois, and a string of other unaccredited band members. The first track released off Maybe You’ve Been Brainwashed, Too, “You Get What You Give” is mainly known to casual listeners as The Song That Enraged Marilyn Manson More Than It Should Have. Aside from that, “You Get What You Give” is an exceptional example of how a first single should sound. The first twenty-five seconds opens with a futuristic feel (due to the taint of synthesizer here and there) and a countdown from Alexander that throws the listener ten years into the future. The song holds a message of straying away from conforming to the ugliness of society, but is ironically hidden behind the joyful keyboarding and upbeat tempo.
The remaining eleven songs are just as innovative as “You Get What You Give”, but receive little-to-no credit for their brilliance. While the album eventually went platinum, most people only know the leading single and “Someday We’ll Know” and “Mother We Just Can’t Get Enough”, known most memorably for being on the Walk to Remember soundtrack. While both songs are supposed to resemble the ecstasy one is supposed to feel while being in a relationship, they are also the weakest links on a track list that is otherwise innovative and ingenious. A personal favorite, “Flowers” tells of a better love story, where the protagonist is trying to convince his love that their love is “as real as the flowers [she] smoke[s] to get high”. The Beatles-esque guitar strumming and simple piano composition brings the tune together and makes listeners imagine themselves in the same dreamy scenario almost resembling a very pleasant acid trip. Another song, “I Hope I Didn’t Just Give Away the Ending” is particularly haunting due to the internal conflict going on in Alexander’s head for the first two minutes, breaking free by telling himself to “SHUT UP!” and goes into a tale contaminated by cocaine addiction and desperate pleas to get away from living such a life involving making pornographic films to pay for drugs. Truly a terrible story, but it is executed perfectly and will probably be stuck in your head after a first listen. The album’s concluding ballad, “Crying Like a Church on Monday” is a perfect way to end this album of self-discovery and self-loathing. “Monday” is a hopeful plea to try to make life worth living.
Unfortunately, “Maybe You’ve Been Brainwashed, Too” was the only album created for New Radicals. A few days after attempting to release “Someday We’ll Know” as a second single, Gregg Alexander decided to disband the musical experiment, insisting that he didn’t want to live a life of touring and interviews anymore. Alexander may be a big-time producer for the likes of Santana and The Bangles now, but New Radicals’ single album should remain a model for budding bands that hope on making a significant impact on the music industry.
I have an interesting relationship with the five boroughs that lie within New York City. All five of them have drastic differences that separate them from each other, and the stories I hold from each borough are vastly different, as well. I’m fond of the Queens region because I’m technically a Queens baby (for only a month before moving to the Suburbs of Long Island, but that could be overlooked). The Brooklyn area holds a special place in my heart after endless thrifting trips, aimless bouts of roaming around nameless neighborhoods after crossing the Brooklyn Bridge and discovering that I could fall in love with the red velvet cake from the Cake Man. I have to respect the Bronx, since I have fond memories from my childhood going to my Nana’s house and having authentically Italian meatballs and bakery goods. While Staten Island gets a bad rep for being the birthing place of guidos, the area is a highly decent area that I should really explore more in-depth one of these days. Finally, I could go on about Manhattan. I’ll choose not to ramble, but living here has, in some way, helped me mature and made me realize what kind of person I really am.
Being an avid music lover, I find elements in certain songs that put me in a New York state of mind and remind me of the life that I’m living here. Certain beats, instruments, lyrics, and vocals bring me onto the streets of the city and enhance the overall experience of being here and just existing. Without further ado, here is my top three songs based around my beloved city.
Coney Island Baby – Lou Reed – Notorious for writing some of modern music history’s bleaker songs, Lou Reed released this song off of his solo debut in 1976 and highlighted his reflective side. The song is a reaffirmation of life of sorts, after all of the treacherous events that Reed has gone through during his lifetime. While he is contemplating every little aspect of life, the background could be mistake for the eerie serenity of Coney Island at night. He even compares his love for a transvestite named Rachel to how much he is infatuated with Coney Island. As trashy and nostalgic as the place seems in the daytime, one cannot help but fall in love with the place, regardless of time of day.
Harlem – Bill Withers – Back in the 1960’s and 70’s when Upper Manhattan was known for the explosion of Motown and soul music, Bill Withers was an icon for putting real heart into his verses. Withers even had the power to add an extra kick to a song simply about how he and those around him lived their lives up in the misunderstood neighborhood of Harlem. The main message he tries to convey in his classic song is that while one’s personal situation may not be all that great, he or she could still have a good time. Extreme heat or cold, lack of food, or confronting lying preacher men every day doesn’t have to stop a person when he or she can look forward to dancing with their friends and acquaintances until the wee hours of the morning.
New York, I Love You But You’re Bringing Me Down – LCD Soundsystem – Every person can grow disappointed with his or her own residency after a while. Residents of New York City are no exception. LCD Soundsystem puts the culture of New York into perspective and tries to come to the conclusion as to why the city is letting them down. Closely reading the lyrics, the average man can easily be disappointed with the ‘good life’ found in the five boroughs. They expect to live a life such as Carrie Bradshaw or the cast of Friends, but discover anything but when actually experiencing the city for themselves. People expect all the boroughs to be like glamorous Manhattan, but that is far from being true. Even if the common person does reside in Manhattan, they have to work their butts off to get what they want. Even when one gets what he or she wants, they will discover that the city doesn’t have the same diverse culture like it used to. The city isn’t as gritty as it was decades prior, and it seems like the majority of the region is trying to cater to the upper class, which can easily get a person down very quickly. Despite all of the disappointments found all about, there are a few glimmers of hope in the strangest places. They can discover the beauty of Battery Park in the middle of the night, or could stumble upon a hole-in-the-wall Australian meat pie joint in Alphabet City and eat the best pulled pork meat pie outside of Australia, or could perhaps find an epic outdoor book sale and buy half a library for fifty dollars. Moments such as this keep the doubtful around for a little while longer, and LCD Soundsystem know this holds true for aplenty of skeptics.
Ever since I picked up one of The Roots’ earlier albums, “Things Fall Apart,” in eleventh grade, I was determined to catch them perform live at least once in my life. The way the group (consisting of lead MC Black Thought, drummer ?uestlove, guitarist Captain Kirk Douglas, bassist Owen Biddle, keyboardist Kamal Gray and percussionist F. Knuckles) has managed to combine hip-hop with other forms of music, such as jazz, soul and rock, in their long careers is truly unique and unlike anything else in the hip-hop world today. After many failed attempts within the past four years to see them, I became a little hopeful when I heard they were hired to be the house band for Late Night with Jimmy Fallon. I imagined that The Roots would perform semi-regularly around the city during this new stint. Luckily, a few weeks after they announced their long-term TV gig, they also announced that they would be hosting a three-month, late night residency at Highline Ballroom for only ten dollars a ticket. How could I not take advantage of this opportunity?
When first walking into the Ballroom, The Roots’ personal DJ, DJ Birdbrain, is spinning old school hip-hop tunes with hints of new school technology. The music immediately put the bass speakers to work, and it got the diverse crowd dancing in no time. I managed to get up to the front of the stage, noticing behind me all sorts of people. Frat boys were to my left, overdressed party girls to my right, and hipsters, bohemians, hip-hop heads and bookworms were right behind me. Noticing that such a vast array of people could come together to experience one band was surreal, since it’s rare to see all these people in the same room. The lingering smell of overpriced booze and marijuana snuck into the venue were signs that a good show was coming my way.
The Roots casually strutted on stage at about 11 p.m. They looked ecstatic and grateful about the crowded venue, and lead MC Black Thought immediately thanked everybody for coming out and “partying” with them. The six-piece band began playing, and the crowd was taken on a trip.
The show, entitled The Jam, had two main purposes: to exhibit the talents of the band’s instrumentals, and showcase the band’s many friends. One of the special aspects of The Roots is that they refuse to sample other artists’ songs, so they have the additional challenge of being wholly creative. However, the band managed to show their true talents, playing such musical genres as neo-soul, funk, pure rock, smooth jazz, and the blues during their set. Their jam sessions would last for a good ten minutes, then would be connected to a new song by a simple guitar riff or drum solo. Within these jam sessions would be solos of epic proportions, as they highlighted the immense talents of Douglas, Biddle and ?uestlove. Douglas, in particular, set the stage on fire with his one-handed guitar solos and soulful showmanship, modeling such guitar legends as Jimi Hendrix and Muddy Waters.
Along with The Roots, their posse of friends and colleagues put on a great show, which made the event into a family affair. While most of the artists who performed with The Roots are fairly unknown, their musical contributions made the concert more like a family get-together than just an ordinary concert. Up-and-coming rapper Wale made friends with the audience as he passed around his camcorder to record audience reactions to his songs, while fellow rapper Truck North reminded me of a younger Biggie Smalls as he free-styled for about five minutes, a feat that is difficult for almost any rapper. Funk metal singer and guitarist Corey Glover brought down the house with his raw, soulful voice and emotion seeping out of his guitar. Legendary jazz singer Dee Dee Bridgewater also strutted out with a ferociousness that showed that an old timer like she could entertain a younger audience. Along with all of these singers and rappers was a Brooklyn-based African band Antibalas, who, with their saxophones and bongos, added an eclectic international flare to an already diverse show.
By the end of the night, The Roots and Company had played for two hours. Although the show ended at one in the morning, I could barely feel the passage of time because I was dancing the whole time. The Roots definitely know how to throw a great party, along with performing a great show. Should one dish out their money for this residency? Absolutely. Anyone with an open-minded appreciation to music shouldn’t, and have no real excuse to miss this residency. I know I’ll be taking advantage of this distinctive opportunity; I already bought my set of tickets for next month.
The Roots Present The Jam will be presented on April 1, 6, 14, 21, May 5, 13, 18, 26, June 2, 10, 16, and 23 at Highline Ballroom on West 16th Street between Ninth and Tenth Avenue. Tickets are ten dollars in advance and twelve dollars at the door. A limited number of tickets are sold the day of the show. Doors typically open at 11 PM, unless otherwise noted. Guest artists vary from show to show.
