Lollapalooza 2007

When Lollapalooza started back in 1991, I begged my mom and dad to let me go. Since I was just 14 years old and my parents were in no way interested in seeing Jane’s Addiction, Ice-T, Nine Inch Nails and especially not Butthole Surfers, I was repeatedly denied. This was a yearly event – Lollapalooza tickets would go on sale, I’d cry about no one understanding me and that not going to Lolla would “ruin my life forever” (and honestly, how many things wouldn’t ruin a teenager’s life forever?), and then of course, I wouldn’t go. By ‘95-’96, when I was old enough to buy my own ticket and make my own decision, I didn’t want to see any of the bands playing. When Perry Farrell brought the festival to Chicago, I came up with plenty of excuses not to go. August in Chicago brings high temperatures and humidity, with tens of thousands of people, I’d be stuck in crowds all day, food would be expensive, etc. This year, though, at $60 for a weekend pass, I could no longer refuse.

Friday brought temperatures in the 90s. I was overwhelmed when I got to the festival and spent the better part of an hour sitting under a tree trying to get my bearings and stay somewhat cool. I wandered over to the Myspace stage and watched a few minutes of Ted Leo. Despite the personal problems in his life right now, he was at his best on Friday. His voice was strong and clear and he didn’t talk between every song like he’s known to do.

AT&T set up an interactive tent across the field from the Myspace stage which housed televisions, computers, video games and couchs as well as the coldest air conditioning I’ve ever experienced. The AT&T volunteers were handing out personal battery operated fans which surprisingly came in handy over the weekend.

The rest of Friday afternoon was a blur. I saw a little of Viva Voce and Polyphonic Spree, but neither was all that memorable. PS ditched the robes and came out in what looked like black military gear. Tim DeLaughter was as vocal and odd as usual. I wouldn’t say that the band sounded bad, just not any different than when I saw them in 2004 at Park West in Chicago.

I wandered over to a small stage and waited for the Rapture to begin. The shade was finally starting to expand beyond the trees as the sun set behind the stage. Relief from the heat! Didn’t last for long considering the Rapture would whip the crowd into a dancing frenzy. They broke out hits from Echoes and last year’s Pieces of the People We Love which got everyone moving around… as much as Chicagoans move around, at least.

Friday night also brought the sounds of Femi Kuti & The Positive Force, The Black Keys and LCD Soundsystem. I caught a few minutes of each artist, but the real buzz was about the Daft Punk show that was still to come.

I admit, I’m a very casual Daft Punk fan. I danced to “Around the World” at numerous clubs when I was younger and know DP songs when I hear them, but that’s about it. Their show consisted of the two guys wearing helmets and DJing from a pyramid/spaceship on stage. Oh, and a hell of a lot of lights. I didn’t really understand the hype of it all. No live performance, no new material, no variations from a show that could’ve been controlled with the touch of a finger. The set was interesting, but hardly earth shattering like I expected.

I skipped Saturday’s festivities in favor of watching the Milwaukee Brewers beat the Phillies. From what I hear, the weather was great that day. Naturally…

Sunday’s weather was at about 90% humidity and probably in the upper 80s to lower 90s temperature-wise. Also known as MISERABLE. I got to the festival too late and missed White Rabbits. I watched the 1900s instead and was mildly impressed. Remember that air conditioned AT&T tent I was raving about? I sat on a couch in there for about an hour and watched a broadcast of Dax Riggs… and I still have no idea who he is.

While sitting in A/C heaven, I plotted my day. David Vandervelde (excellent! gives me hope that Chicago music isn’t dead) then Rodrigo y Gabriela (good, but no different than when I saw them at the Old Town School of Folk Music last year. except, of course, for the thousands of extra fans). I also caught a little bit of Dios (Malos) and enjoyed the two songs I heard from them.

I then met up with a friend and we walked over to see Amy Winehouse. I wasn’t expecting anything at all from this set. I assumed that she’d be a drunken mess, if she showed up at all. Man, was I wrong. Outside of her having zero stage presence, her singing was stellar. Adding to the soul set was her backing band, The Dap Kings. They were tight and added some light-hearted fun to her boring ass. The backing singers did a few choreographed dance moves and the crowd loved it.

It was food time by this point. I bought a portabello mushroom wrap for $8 and ate the hell out of it while alternately listening to and making fun of Paolo Nutini.

The rest of the afternoon was spent watching Iggy and the Stooges (he’s 60!), the few minutes of Peter, Bjorn & John before their power went out, and the ever-annoying !!!. They’d be so awesome if they ditched their singer.

Next up was My Morning Jacket. They’re always a treat. The guys came out in purple tuxes and freshly cut hair. That latter statement might not seem like a big deal, but when Jim James cuts his hair, it’s news. After rocking the f out for about half the set, they brought out the Chicago Youth Symphony to accompany them on a few songs. Some of the kids (probably all in their mid-teens) looked terrified, while a few gave off a vibe of, “I’ll be headlining Lollapalooza in 10 years.” The band played songs off It Still Moves and Z and closed with a cover of the late Chicago native Curtis Mayfield’s “Move On Up”. That made me love the band even more. They come to Chicago, give major exposure to our youth and then close their set with a song honoring one of the most respected soul singer-songwriters of our time. That’s respect.

After MMJ blew my socks off, I trudged back across Grant Park to see Cafe Tacuba. Unfortunately for the band, they were playing against TV on the Radio and the thousands of people who were on the other side of the park preparing for Pearl Jam. Fortunately for myself and the hundreds of true Cafe Tacuba fans, there was room to dance and stay cool. I have no idea what the hell these guys were singing about, but it sure was a lot of fun. The band is impressive and the singer is a maniac who sometimes wore a wrestling mask that looked like the head of a chicken while dancing all over the stage. Apparently they came back for three encores because their fans wouldn’t let them leave.

The main attraction of the weekend was Pearl Jam. I’ve never seen them live, so I was pretty excited to have this opportunity. After chatting up a Chicago police lieutenant, I discovered that 80,000 people were there to see Pearl Jam. Because I’m also a bad Pearl Jam fan, I only wanted to hear the songs that I love. Some are hits, some aren’t, and when I didn’t hear them, I grew tired of their cock rock and Eddie’s seemingly endless rants about everything from the environment to the president. I’m glad that he’s preaching to the masses, but when I want to hear “Spin the Black Circle”, I don’t want anything to get in the way. I stuck around for about 40 minutes, heard “Elderly Woman”, “Evenflow” and a few songs that I didn’t recognize.

All in all, I enjoyed the festival. Had I paid $160 or $200 for that weekend pass, I probably would’ve expected a little more, but for $60 I can’t really complain. Highlights: Amy Winehouse, My Morning Jacket and the Rapture, $2 water, inexpensive (and good!) food, and plenty of bathrooms that didn’t make me want to gag. Two thumbs up, Lolla.

Concert Review: Frightened Rabbit (23 jan 07)

Newsflash: Frightened Rabbit no longer consists of just two awesome brothers. They’ve added a third Rabbit who’s called Billy and plays guitar. A year ago. Now you know. So, now that that’s out of the way, on to the show.

I really had no idea what to expect from this show. A YouTube video had popped up on a message board that I frequent and after reading less than favorable reviews of Scott’s voice, I decided to not watch it. And after their January 23rd show at Chicago’s Empty Bottle, I believe I made the right decision.

They opened with “Be Less Rude” which is one of those songs where the music is a bit drone-y and keeps you moving back and forth, wishing that it would never end. One of those “if you could see music” philosophical situations, I suppose. “BLR” was an excellent choice of opening song and Scott’s voice was in amazing shape.

After tearing through “The Greys” and “Music Now“, they came to “Behave”. As a recording, this is a gorgeous song. My interpretation of the song is that he’s describing a new love affair and he doesn’t know how to act around his new love interest. That’s just a guess. As a live song, it’s transformed into a heartfelt (near) spoken word. You feel like you’re eavesdropping on someone’s most intimate thoughts. While listening to this song, I had nearly forgotten that the boys on stage were the same boys who wear masks and play dead for publicity photos.

Scott, Grant and Billy make it look effortless to make such highly personal music. They’re very in tune with each other and for their ages, very mature (I’m sure they’ll hate me for saying that about them). I have a feeling that they’ll go on to achieve great success.

Other highlights of the show were two new tracks, “My Backwards Walk” and “The Modern Leper”, which for now can be heard on their myspace page.

Frightened Rabbit have a Christmas song, too! I know, I know, Christmas is over! Who cares! Well, you’ll care. And you’ll want to listen to this in December as well as every other month of the year. Check out the website of Chris, FR tour companion, to hear “It’s Christmas So We’ll Stop”.

Their next US stop will be Austin’s South By Southwest on March 14 and 16. Check them out while they’re still relatively unknown. They won’t be for long.

More information can be found at the band’s website.

The 2006 “Airing of Grievances”

As the holiday season winds to a close, we here at Hip-D (at least those of us who weren’t too lazy to participate) have decided to honor the annual Festivus celebration by posting our own “Airing of Grievances for 2006. Each staffer (again, those who actually played along) makes a case for their favorite 2006 album that did NOT make the Hip-D Top 20. Once we can figure out how to virtually pin each other to a mat, we’ll add the “Feats of Strength.”

Elvis Fu: Scott H. Biram – Graveyard Shift

If I weren’t such a lapdog for Lucero, Graveyard Shift by Scott H. Biram might very well have topped my 2006 list.

This is Biram’s fifth album, but the self-described “Dirty Old One-Man Band” had somehow never popped up on my radar until this year. “Dirty” isn’t quite spot-on. “Truck Stop Toilet Dirty” is closer to what Biram churns out through a tangled mess of blues, roadworn country and enough heavy metal to scare off the more chaste fans of traditional blues & country. Oh yeah, Scott H. Biram also heads the self-established “First Church of the Ultimate Fanaticism” as a sort of whiskey smuggling Revival preacher following the blue highways looking for more than just salvation under the big tent.

This ain’t alt-country. Sure, we get some pedal steel and a little harmonica over a twangy guitar backdrop, but Biram credits himself with just about every piece of his orchestra: lead and harmony vocals, CB radio, loudspeaker, breathing, harmonica, gut, all acoustic & electric guitars, Hammond B3 organ, homemade footstomp board, hi hat, tambourine, claps, hambone, table thump, special effects, random noises. It’s not pretty. Graveyard Shift is unwashed, flea-bitten and broken down on every damn song. With his voice sounding like it’s projected through an old coffee can, Biram kicks off the album with “Most times I can’t sleep at night / I just walk the highway up and down / Sometimes I can’t eat a bite at all / Sometimes I bite off more then I can chew,” from “Down Too Long.”

From there, Biram hustles through trucker life (“18 Wheeler Fever,” “Reefer Load”), the big man upstairs (“Only Jesus,” “Church Jesus”), punching a clock for The Man (“Work,” “Graveyard Shift”) and of course, women (“Long Fingernails”). And while “Plow You Under” is a better glimpse at the awesome horror that is Scott H. Biram, it was “Lost Case of Being Found”, that made me stop and listen the first time. It’s still my favorite since that moment, even though it is a more low-key number.

Mark H.: Chumbawamba – A Singsong And A Scrap

Occasionally a band will change gears or explore new sonic territory, raising an eyebrow or two and possibly pulling former fans back into the fold. Chumbawamba, however, have dared go the step beyond, and outright reinvented themselves for this new album. Stripped down to fewer members and fewer instruments, the once-predictable arrangement of horns, amps, synths, and thumping beats is nowhere in sight. Thankfully, the group has talent to spare, so even with just their multi-part harmonies, acoustic guitars, and other various folk/americana instruments, Chumbawamba has turned in a masterpiece.

One might think they’ve delved into the hipster neo-folk realm, but that simply isn’t the case. These are tunes that point confidently in the direction of The Weavers and The Kingston Trio. The album showcases folk revival-esque songs of war and protest, sung sing-along style and for the pop masses. In and of itself, a fine musical accomplishment, but the album cruised to the # 1 spot on my list for outstanding songwriting (granted, they cover The Clash – and well – but the other 12 originals are amazing). Every single song, even the ones with a specific historical reference point, seem timeless. Every blessed note would fit in perfectly in a small dark coffeehouse or an arena full of folkie anarchists.

This album deserves to be heard by all: old, dedicated fans (like me), past listeners waiting for something fresh, and even people new to the scene. A Singsong And A Scrap is not tremendously indicative of the band’s catalog, but it’s so good I can’t help but recommend it to anyone and everyone I know.

stacey: Lily Allen – Alright, Still…

During a few driving excursions this year, something odd happened to me — I craved cheap, mainstream pop. I hungrily fondled the radio dial on several occasions, reaching extreme heights of joy upon finding Gavin DeGraw, Nick Lachey and old Natalie Imbruglia. Needless to say, this worried me and I found myself questioning my very elitist-indie-fuck existence. Mid-soul search, I found Lily Allen and I thought all hope was lost.

Alright, Still… is granulated pop goodness. Ms. Allen is a sassy young Brit (think a female Streets) with a sweet, sunshine-filled voice and lyrics such as “You’re not big, you’re not clever, no you aint a big brother, not big whatsoever” from (what else) “Not Big,” a (what else) breakup song. She also tackles the age-old problem of disposing of a creep at a bar (“Knock ‘em Out”) and hopes her lazy, drug-addled brother can make something of his life (“Alfie”). See, she doesn’t only provide important public service announcements, she also still believes the children really are our future. Lily Allen is cheeky, she is fun and perfect for those days when all you’d like to do is bob your head in a carefree manner and drive along to a listen-all-the-way-through disc. Plus, it’s much better than having someone catch Nick Lachey on your stereo.

jasmine: The Lilys – Everything Wrong is Imaginary

I’m assuming that the reason Everything Wrong is Imaginary by The Lilys is not on your Top 20 is because you haven’t heard it. If you have another reason, I think you might be a little slow, or you simply have poor taste in music.

Okay, enough indie snob talk. Seriously, this is a great album. It’s one of those albums where you feel like a bunch of different bands are performing on one album. Sometimes they sound like a shoegaze band, sometimes a plain old indie rawk band and on track three, “A Diana’s Diana,” you might just think that someone’s slipped a funk album onto the turntable. My only gripe about the band is that their influences are very obvious. I’ve noticed hints of The Pixies and just about every 60s rock band I can think of. I hope you kick yourself, Hip-D staff, for keeping this album off the year-end list.

Patrick: The Decemberists – The Crane Wife

2006 was about fun music for me, and The Decemberists are the most fun (if not the best) band in America right now.

Hyperbole aside, they have put out four incredibly consistent full-lengths in the last five years, and while the current disc, The Crane Wife, lacks some of the originality of the 2002 debut, it is a much better listen overall than any of the previous releases. Gone are many of the shanties, pirates and villains, but the excellent storytelling and simple, yet continuously original, melodies remain.

Colin Meloy shares with Stephen Morrissey the quality of being either intolerable or phenomenal, considering your personal preference. I can see how one could have difficulty stomaching Meloy’s nasal warble and tendency to wax poetic about 16th century Belgium, but I find a subtlety and innocence within the song structure and lyrics such as:

“Waylay the din of the day
Boats bobbing in the blue of the bay
In deep far beneath all the dead sailors
Slowly slipping to sleep”

from the best track, “Summersong,” just flow so well, you would swear Meloy was a West Coast rapper in a former life. We still keep some of the butchers, bakers, candlestick makers and dead sailors (as referenced above), but we also have “When The War Came,” a rollicking protest song, ” or “The Island,” a 12:26 montage that channels Yes, ELO, Steely Dan and pretty much 70’s AOR in general, but still manages to be thoroughly enjoyable and not dirge-like at all.

There’s no “July, July,” “Legionnaire’s Lament,” or “16 Military Wives,” but “O, Valencia!” and the aforementioned “Summersong” do their part as anthemic pop magic. This is some of the most fun I’ve had listening to pop music in a while.

Darrin Frew: M. Craft – Silver and Fire

Many things provoke me into unbridled fury. Schoolchildren being run to the gates of their educational establishment by their mothers in a Land Rover Discovery for instance. Is it any wonder modern children are such whining spoiled wretches when they don’t have to walk miles through white out blizzard conditions dressed in a blazer, tie and shorts as I had to as a boy? Is it really such a surprise that the male cosmetics industry (thank you capitalism!) rakes in such huge amounts of cash when we are feminising our male born almost from infancy? Why aren’t we ASHAMED when a generation teenage boys swap skin moisturiser tips and complement each other on their haircuts instead of pursuing Corinthian brutality on the rugby field? And how can school girls be prepared for the agony of childbirth when even a mild drizzle sends them blubbing to the leather upholstered cab of their parents SUV? Motorized mollycoddling has created a society of juvenile aberrations.

Today’s kids should be out there walking to school, legs smarting from pummelling hail, leaned forward into the howling winds which push air particles chilled so deeply in the Artic that they cleave through your skull. They should be exposed to rain so hard, so lashing, it pox marks your face for hours afterwards! But no! These pint sized, assholes-in-the-making have nothing more to complain about on plumply cushioned backseats than downtime on MySpace as they tap away on their wireless broadband lap-tops! BEING DRIVEN AROUND IS FOR FOPPISH ARISTOCRATS! IT MUST STOP NOW BEFORE WE BECOME A NATION OF LOUIS XVI’s, CHINLESS WONDERS IN PERFUMED WIGS LOLLING AROUND HEAD TO TOE IN SILK AND BUTTONS! GET THOSE KIDS OUT IN THE FUCKING RAIN NOW!

In his great Scottish Nationalist novel, Sunset Song, Lewis Grassic Gibbons tells of gruff man-of-the-land, John Guthrie walking along a farm road when an aristocrat in a 1920’s jalopy toots his horn hoping to usher a real man off the road so that his motor vehicle can pass. John Guthrie responds by pulling the aristocrat from his car, gives him a great slap that sends the tweedy posho into the mud and tells him “Sound your horn at me again my mannie, and I’ll give you a damn thrashing that you’ll never forget!” Might I suggest we adopt a similar policy with today’s children, dragging these spoilt miniature dandies from their 4WDs and giving them a mighty steel toe-capped buffet to their puny rumps with parting words “Walk to school! Walk to school through everything the elements can throw at you and one day you might be a man and not larvae!”

Another thing I really hate is when brilliant albums are completely ignored even after I’ve extolled their Romanesque glory, consistently, over a prolonged period. You really are banging your head off a brick wall trying to get through to these so called hipsters who either prefer the sound of an Icelandic lunatic throwing a Korg synthesizer down a flight of stairs or worse, the stale sound of mouldy old man rock music that should have died when Dwayne Allman fell off his bike.

No, the proponents of such hackneyed drivel should be summarily ignored in favour of more acquired tastes – mine being the best example. Sadly, Hip-D failed to show sufficient savvy to vote M. Craft’s Silver and Fire on to its Top 20 poll which was, as a result, completely blighted by all encroaching mediocrity. Playing the best guitar solo of the decade on “Sweets” should have been enough to send praise cascading from every quarter but as if that wasn’t good enough the album was stocked to the brim with classic guitar pop from withering commentary on ditzy middle class art school scum on “SnowBird” to the triumphant Spector-like “Lucile.” Truly the album, from lip to cusp, was an artistic triumph of rare magnitude.

In the end its single vote was blown into the ether by the stiff breeze of total ignorance. Let this be a lesson for those choosing a taste maker – unless they are Scottish they really don’t know what they’re talking about.

FT: Sloan – Never Hear the End of It

Canadian power popsters Sloan have been around forever, which is roughly equivalent to the amount of time I’ve spent ignoring them. I’m not really sure why it’s taken so long for me to give these guys a chance, but by starting with the double-length Never Hear the End of It, I certainly chose a quality point of entry. Emphasizing the “power” in power pop, Sloan adds a healthy dose of crunchy guitar throughout much of the proceedings, while grabbing your ear with their hook-laden harmonies.

Never Hear the End of It manages to never sounding dated, while still bringing to mind the power pop heyday of the late-’70s/early-’80s. It’s that timeless quality of tunes that feel just as much at home today as 25-30 years ago, which sets Sloan apart from the glut of others who are still trying to carve out a niche in this genre. Take a tip from these guys, folks, and leave it to the experts.

Hip-D Top 20 of 2006 » #19 » La Rocca – “The Truth”

I rarely trust the opinions of others when it comes to music. I doubt that most people have the awesome taste in music that I have. So, when some guys in a message board chat room were talking about La Rocca’s The Truth, I put off listening to it. “It’s probably guy music and it probably sucks,” is what played over and over in my head. Eventually, I gave in and downloaded the bastard. And you know what? It’s a fantastic straight ahead, no frills pop/rock album. Sometimes compared to Keane, no doubt because of their piano-driven songs, I hear sounds of The Rolling Stones, Jayhawks and Supergrass.

The Truth opens with “Sketches (20 Something Life).” The song starts off with a little bass, then a little drum, then the piano kicks in, and with a big old rock star, “YEAH!,” the song kicks into full gear. Before you know it, you’re balls deep in a perfect pop song. Plenty of other songs evoke the same excitement, such as “This Life” and “Eyes While Open.” On the other end of the spectrum are some great tunes which make you want to sit back with a few beers and some good friends. The title track sounds like their tribute to Mick Jagger, but also might be an apology from the singer for lying to his lady friends. And closing the album is “Capitol Pill,” a beautiful song which is quite reminiscent of Whiskeytown.

– jasmine

jasmine’s Favorite Track: “Sing Song Sung”

This album appeared on the following staffers’s lists:

• jasmine (#6)
• Loog (#9)
• Yail Bloor (#19)

jasmine » Film » Rocky Balboa

When I received the email asking, “Do you want to see Rocky Balboa tonight? Sly’s scheduled to appear.”, I’d just had a long day and was feeling kind of crabby and bored. Sure, I could use a laugh, so I said yes. It’s not like celebrities ever show up to these things anyway…

Rocky Balboa’s not even scheduled to open in theatres until Christmas Day, so I felt privileged, even after waiting in line for a half hour and in the theatre for an hour and a half. As movie time was approaching, the buzz became a little louder about Sly showing up. I first heard that he was at his hotel, then in the building. When the camera crews came barreling into the theatre, I knew it was real. Sylvester Stallone walked into the theatre, said a few coherent, kind words and introduced his new movie.

I really thought that this was going to be a horrible, cheesy movie. Stallone wrote and directed the film and since I associate real life Stallone as being just like Balboa – a big, dumb ape with a heart of gold – I wasn’t expecting much. Boy, was I wrong. Stallone’s character was just how I’d imagine Rocky to be at 55+ years of age. He was out of fighting shape, slow and fairly low-key, running a restaurant named after his late wife, Adrian. He seemed like he was only interested in doing goodwill toward others and didn’t have too much “tough guy” to him.

What piqued his interest in getting back to boxing was a fight simulation that ESPN computers conducted between 1970’s champion Rocky and the current heavyweight champion, Mason “The Line” Dixon. Dixon’s a 20-something kid with a bad attitude. He’s hardly the bad guy, but there were a few moments where I thought an ass-beating would probably knock him down a few notches.

So, yeah, Rocky trained and fought Dixon in an exhibition match at the end of the movie. I won’t say who won the fight, but I will say it was very anticlimactic.

Overall, I think this movie’s worth seeing. If you have a son between the ages of 10 and 17, take them. It’s a good dad/son movie. Enjoy.

jasmine » Music, Film, etc. » ketchup

This has been an interesting year for music. Putting the Days to Bed by The Long Winters is still at the top of my list. However, I don’t remember another year where I’ve heard so few albums that have caught my ear, yet they’ve really stuck with me. Guess it’s quality over quantity this year.

I recently picked up Let’s Get Out of This Country, the latest release from twee pop darlings, Camera Obscura. Because they’re Scottish, Camera Obscura can really do no wrong in my eyes. However, I believe that it’s okay to experiment with different sounds from one album to the next. Although this album is excellent for what it is, it would be nice if it didn’t sound so close to their last effort, Underachievers Please Try Harder.

If you like pornography dressed up in an arthouse film costume, please proceed immediately to the nearest showing of Shortbus. The new John Cameron Mitchell film tackles the touchy subjects of finding that elusive female orgasm, open (gay) relationships, suicidal tendencies and the nature of bdsm relationships. All of the main stories are connected by a secret club in NYC called Shortbus, so named because of the likeness of its “special” or “different” users. At Shortbus, you can do whatever you want and Mitchell’s definitely not afraid to show everything. So, proceed with caution. It’s a sweet story with a LOT of sex.

The Shortbus soundtrack, however, totally easy on the ears and full of music that I’ve not heard anywhere else. Two pleasant surprises are from stars of the film. Sook Yin Lee, as Lee & LeBlanc, contributes “Beautiful”and Jay Brannan sings about being a lush who’s hitting rock bottom in the poppy, “Soda Shop”.

Other recent purchases:
Up Jumped the Devil – Robert Johnson; A two-disc set which I got from Tower for $5.99 (after the 40% liquidation discount!).

Jukebox Hits 1943 to 1952 – T-Bone Walker; I tortured myself a little bit with this one. The first mixtape given to me by my ex-husband had the song “I Want a Little Girl” as the first track. I haven’t listened to the song in years, so I bought this album and sat down and listened to it today. Memories and emotions came flooding back, but it’s worth it because I now own an amazing blues gem.

jasmine » Music » The Long Winters Concert Review

“my arms miss you, my hands miss you”

Guess who saw the Long Winters Friday night?

ME!

From the minute that I read the Long Winters were coming to Chicago, I was happy like a little kid. I listened to my two LW records and memorized all the lyrics. Then, my excitement fizzled. Subterranean is a horrible venue and John Roderick is a grade A prick.

First of all, Subterranean. Why anyone outside of a shitty local band plays Subterranean is beyond me. The set-up is horrible… music’s on the second floor, and bathrooms are on the third floor (first floor is frequented by THEM). The sound is absolutely abominable and the sound people seem to be a little on the slow side. So, that’s the first gripe.

Second gripe: John Roderick, singer and primary songwriter for the Long Winters and former member of Harvey Danger, is a jerk. One of my biggest pet peeves is being belittled by a band that has taken $12.50 from me. You come to my city and talk to me like I’m the asshole. You’re the one playing a shitty venue. Anyway, he mentioned the crowd drinking their “pink cocktails” and even called a guy out for checking his cell phone. Well, Mr. Roderick, perhaps if you talked a little less, the crowd wouldn’t lose attention. Just a suggestion. When he was told that he had 25 minutes until curfew, he complained about the curfew instead of tearing through more songs.

Personal attacks over. Let’s get to the music.

They brought the rock in a big way. To my surprise, it was an all request show. I was skeptical at first, hoping to God that this wasn’t a crowd of morons who only know one song. John and the guys opened with Fire Island, AK, which was to be expected since it’s off their latest release Putting the Days to Bed (2006). Somehow, though, the no set list set list became extremely enjoyable. They performed most of When I Pretend to Fall (2003), and I was a happy girl. Highlights from WIPtF include Stupid (singer Sean Nelson of Harvey Danger and formerly the Long Winters provides vocals on the recorded version) and Scared Straight. And of course, the icing on the cake was Ultimatum.

So, I’m giving the show one thumb up (music!) and one thumb down (shithead bandleader and rough venue). Catch them if you can!

jasmine » Music » so i don’t get fired from hip-d

Here’s a little fill-in on what I’ve been listening to lately:

King Biscuit Time – Black Gold: This is a side project of Beta Band member, Stephen Mason. When I first heard, “Impossible Ride” last week, I thought, “Hey, now here’s a Beta Band song that I haven’t heard…”. So, that’s what this album sounds like… the Beta Band.

The Lights – “Mr. Pussy”: The Lights is a Seattle band and “Mr. Pussy” is a song that sounds a lot like Joy Division. The drumming in this song is comparable to Jimmy Chamberlain’s thud thud on “God” by the late, great Smashing Pumpkins (yes, I said great). Around the two minute mark, singer Craig Chambers breaks out his very best Ian Curtis impression and I eat it up like a little kid eats a bag of candy. Look for their 2006 release, Diamonds and Dirt.

In other music news, I’m going to the Touch and Go 25th anniversary celebration this weekend. Scheduled to appear: Shellac, Big Black, Ted Leo, Shipping News, Tim & Andy of Silkworm (without the deceased Michael Dahlquist around, I’m sure this set will be a tearjerker), Calexico, Black Heart Procession, Tara Jane O’Neil, Man… Or Astroman?, Seam, and many, many more. I’m excited to see how many punk rock kids from the 80’s and 90’s make an appearance this weekend. I hope to have pictures, too.

ami la musica!

jasmine » Music » Frightened Rabbit

When a friend told me about a Scottish band called Frightened Rabbit, I thought, “Well, I do love all things Scottish, so I’m sure I’ll love this band.” Not so fast, Jasmine. I found after one listen to Sing the Greys that it was lifeless and boring and I didn’t get anything from it. I quickly forgot about it.

Then, through the magic of iTunes shuffle, I heard the gorgeous chorus of “Behave!”: “Behave… behave… I don’t know quite how to behave/Behave… I don’t have a clue how to behave when I’m around you…” and now I’m hooked. I would compare them to Maximo Park. Perhaps as a lo-fi kid brother. Other fantastic songs include “Be Less Rude”and “Yawns”. The music’s simple, the lyrics are heartfelt.

Anyway, listen to the songs that I’ve posted and pick up the album. Unfortunately, their touring is still confined to Great Britain, but perhaps someday they’ll jump over the big pond and visit the US.

And come on… who couldn’t love a couple of crazy kids who have this on the front page of their website

“Frightened Rabbit are a drummer called Grant, born in 1984, and a guitarist called Scott, born in 1981. We are brothers and are therefore related. We don’t have anyone else in the band because we don’t have any other friends who are awesome

Exactly.

For more information on Frightened Rabbit, check out their website or myspace page.

jasmine » Music » Pitchfork Music Festival 2006

good:

• the national. these guys continue to kick my ass even after seeing them tour on the same album, alligator three times. i think that the songs are brilliant, the band (comprised of two sets of brothers and a fifth wheel) is both tight and powerful, and the singer (fifth wheel, matt berninger) is a brilliant madman. they played all of their hits (aka – my favorite songs), like “abel”, “all the wine”, and opened with “secret meeting”. they closed with a new song which means a new album must be coming. yessssssss.

• jens lekman. who the hell is this guy, anyway? i heard “black cab” about two years ago, bought tickets to his schuba’s show in early 2005 (didn’t go), and he quickly left my memory. i’ve always associated his voice with that of stephin merritt, which after seeing him yesterday, i know is completely incorrect. he has his own gorgeous voice and a pretty fantastic backing band complete with a tuba! and who doesn’t love a good tuba? after doing some reading about the swede, i discovered that he shares my birthday, so now i love him more.

• mission of burma. i knew nothing of these guys before yesterday, but boy am i glad i saw them. i did recognize (and love) the song, “that’s when i reach for my revolver”, so i didn’t feel completely lost. great band. i’d definitely see them again.

• flatstock poster festival. loads and loads of concert posters, all handmade. i ended up buying a delgados poster, a trail of dead poster and a little sign which reads, “you are my sunshine”. cheap and wonderful. i recommend checking out Judgeworks, Aesthetic Apparatus and YeeHaw Industries if you’re interested in some original art for yourself.

• watermelon lemonade. hey, i know! let’s take cubed watermelon (juice included) and toss it in some lemonade. this drink was so good, i wanted to make out with it.

bad:

• yo la tengo. please, guys, stop with the 10 minute “songs” which consist of droning and squealing guitars. please play more songs that i love, but don’t screw them up with your artsy interpretation. thank you.

• hipster fashion. seriously, how many ironic t-shirts and too-tight jeans can i see in one day? and the woman who was wearing what looked like a 1970’s beige bathing suit with a pair of black suede (with fringe!) cowboy boots? yikes.

• heat. i’ve lived here my whole life and you’d think i’d be acclimated by now. nope. i still bitch with the rest of ‘em about the heat. i wore pants rolled to my knees with a tank top and i was still saturated with sweat and also got a pretty mean sunburn. chicago summers, i hate you. chicago festivals, i love you.