Off To Never Neverland – Remembering Michael Jackson

Someday I’ll tell my grand kids “Once upon a time, there was a King Of Pop…”

Seems surreal he won’t be here anymore.

As I sit here watching the mass coverage on Jackson’s memorial service, I am overwhelmed that we are all witnessing a sad moment in entertainment history. This is so huge in scope. Bigger than Elvis, bigger than Sinatra, bigger than Diana, bigger than JFK.

I didn’t even apply for tickets to the Staples Center. I didn’t want to be there during this three ring circus (there are literally Ringling Bros. Elephants waiting in a parking garage nearby.) I did drive by the tents at Forest Lawn yesterday. And I did make the pilgrimage up to Neverland Ranch this weekend.

Surprisingly we were able to drive right up to the gates of the ranch. The day before, fans were allowed on the grounds, but today the gates remained shut, a blanket of flowers left before the entrance.

What my editor and I thought would be a perfect opportunity to interview impersonators and freaks of all kinds was actually a heart wrenching and sad occasion. I found myself unable to film people and ask questions, instead silently snapping pictures and observing.

People from all over the world milled around in front, signing a makeshift wall partition, snapping pictures and sharing stories. One man draped in an Irish flag, said he flew in from Dublin just for the weekend because he had to pay his respects. Others from Florida, Chicago, Atlanta and even as far as Quebec, cried outside. The Quebequoise woman had flown to the LAX airport and taken a taxi cab to the Ranch outside of Santa Barbara – a two hour drive.

There were reunions too. Overheard were super fans who hadn’t seen each other since they stood vigil outside the courthouse during Michael’s trial. They hugged and wept. Children too young to remember the Jackson Five left their dance and ballet toe shoes in tribute and their parents left Buddha statues, posters and roses.

Of course, a circus of MJ’s proportions wouldn’t be complete without capitalists making money off his name. People set up card tables and sold t shirts and buttons.

One ten year old boy dragged a cooler behind him selling water and gatorade. When I asked what his favorite MJ song was, he shrugged indifferently, like a man on the job.

C’mon, dude. Even Fifi (pictured below) wiggled when she heard Bille Jean come on the radio.

But the scavengers were outnumbered by the mourning fans. One group pulled a professional sound system out of their car, hooked it up and started blaring PYT. A dance party ensued and people began to smile.

That’s how Michael would have wanted it.

Bjork’s Voltaic – A Luscious Concert Experience At The Montalban

One of the cooler new additions to Los Angeles pop culture nightlife is the Flux Cinema Tuesdays movie series at the Nike Sportswear Montalban Theater.

Each month guests are treated to a film, usually surfing or music based. The night includes a celeb DJ, drinks and popcorn to boot – all for free. Some of the nights have showcased the work of Michel Gondry and super hot DJ Mr. French, MC Lyte and the director of Notorious, and even the new auteur extraordinaire of horror, Tomas Alfredson and local lady DJ Valida.

Last Tuesday, Flux presented Voltaic: The Volta Tour Live , a concert film of Bjork’s recent tour. The film, which is available to buy today via Nonesuch Records, features Voltaic footage from Björk’s live shows in Paris and Reykjavik, Volta music videos, live studio performances and remixes of songs from Volta.

People who had waited in line which snaked around the block were not disappointed. The film was a gorgeous and loud cacophony of sound and vision which more than filled the small theater at the Montalban.

Bjork was joined on tour by innovative musicians such as Mark Bell, Damian Taylor, Jonas Sen and Chris Corsano, plus an all female brass section decked out in colorful sari styled jumpsuits with flags extending from the back. Bjork, with her face painted in  day glow colors, performed like the dynamo pixie she is, running the gamut of newer Volta material and songs from older albums such as Army Of Me, Hunter and Hyperballad.

It still amazes me to this day, the power of her voice. It seems less like Bjork opens her mouth to sing, and more like she is stopping a powerful magic simply by closing her mouth in between lyrics. The film is lit well and sounds fantastic. You really do feel as if you are in the room at the show – which is something a lot of concert films and rock docs lack today.

After the screening, hundreds of hipsters clamored upstairs to grab the 60 limited edition posters. And I do mean grab. I was knocked off my feet twice and my friend had a poster ripped right out of her hand. The small balcony was much too small to house the Belvedere open bar and poster melee. The pushing and shoving instantly made me want to head for the door. Not to mention the horrible house music DJ’s LA Riots were pumping through their laptops. After a wonder film experience and a great concert, it was truly jarring to exit to an angry poster mob and angry remixes of sub-par music. Hopefully the next post screening soiree will be a bit tamer, or at least less dangerous.

Luckily you can now watch Voltaic in the comfort of your own home. Dim the lights, put on your most colorful yarn scarf and turn that volume way up. You wont be disappointed.

This Is Thriller Night – RIP Michael Jackson

Whether or not I thought he was a certified nut job and alleged child molester, Michael Jackson was a music god.

Watching Beat It and Thriller on MTV were childhood milestones for me. He was played at every birthday party and then at every bat mitzvah. I even did a cheer leading dance to ‘Smooth Criminal’. If I can find the video, I’ll post it.

I’m sure I’m not alone. The amount of dance recitals and half time routines he inspired and continues to…the amount of Soul night dance night boogie-ing that he always makes an appearance at. It’s probably only rivaled by the late James Brown.

They still constantly play him all over the world.. You can’t enter a club in LA without hearing Don’t Stop Until You Get Enough or something off Thriller. The Aokis of the world have earned their ‘fame’ and ‘fortune’ by re-mixing the shit out of MJ’s work and basically turning a Hollywood club night into a hipster bar mitzvah with American Apparel and Sparks giveaways.

Drawbacks aside,  he was a huge influence on almost everyone I can think of. Think of all his hits. His posters. His performance in We Are the World. The red leather jacket. The hat. The zombies. The lit up sidewalk. The one glove. It’s such a part of my generation, our childhoods, our music…unbelievable. Even for a rock chick and self professed hater of cheesy pop music – I’d always bow and scrape to MJ’s tunes.

A huge pop icon. A piece of Americana. And for that he should be remembered.

Space Oddities – Looking For Rock In All The Weird Places

Space Oddities – Looking For Rock In All The Weird Places

by Ali MacLean

In this town, it’s easy to get jaded. Every club or party these days seems to need to top some pinnacle of bacchanale… a regular night with drinks and music just wont do. A warehouse rave is just ordinary. It has to be louder, harder, faster: rollerskating parties, dodgeball parties, plastic surgery parties, parties where you’re in a video game, parties where you come as your spirit animal, parties in a subway car, parties in the basement of the Ramada, Edward Scissorshands parties, staring contest parties…the weirder the better.

.

And now rock shows are going by way of parties. It’s not enough to just stage something in any old raw space or polo field. First Fridays sets up songs next to stuffed Woolly Mammoths and dinosaur bones. Tom Morello raged against deus ex machinas in a Venice Church. DJ Squeak E Clean has dropped it like it’s hot at a Hollywood car wash while fashionista DJs The Misshapes have spun for the well heeled in an airplane hangar, complete with planes standing by.

It’s time to step it up to the realm of absolutely bizarre. Rock show in a cemetery? Check.

Glasvegas are known in Hollywood more for their cataclysmic buzz and for disappointing a sweaty Coachella crowd by their last minute cancellation. Tough it’d be odd to see these Scots in a searingly hot desert rather than in pissing rain. Perhaps that’s why their playing at the Hollywood Forever Cemetery just fit. But a show at a cemetery? It has to be some sort of sacrilege or at the very least a nuisance to those who haven’t quite crossed over. And seeing how out of control Angelinos can get when their basketball team wins. Do we really want to start a riot on a hell mouth just so some indie kids can rock out in a new, exciting way?

Traipsing over graves to get to the gig, I was already feeling guilty for looking for fun in a place of death. Maybe I’m not so goth or emo after all. I’ve been interested in seeing Glasvegas since NME editor Conor McNicholas recommended them to me last year, but with all the huge hype surrounding them, I was expecting to be disappointed.

The staid, upwardly mobile hipster crowd, waited patiently as the Glasvegas wake was delayed by nearly an hour. Finally, fresh off a stunt/gig at another strange venue (Las Vegas wedding chapel), James and Rab Allen took the stage in the Masonic Lodge, by walking down the crowded Hall and waiting for a crew dude to pull back a curtain hung on a wire. This crude set up revealed a gothic, yet etheral stage complete with an old wurli, a grand piano, white roses and a giant angel ice sculpture with a red broken heart. A perfect marriage for the Glasgow boys’ moody and soaring songs. Though some people in the crowd wondered aloud whether or not the rest of the band would join them, James and Rab kept it acoustic-ish and intimate, only pausing to bring up pianist Paul Cantelon for a rendition of “Stabbed”.

Glasvegas In the Masonic Lodge

James, channeling both Strummer and Costello in dark Ray Ban sunglasses, repeatedly asked for the lights onstage to be brightened as he tried to make out the keys of his Wurlitzer in only the glow of a film strip showing old movie stars and a rain of glitter. I suppose the shades didn’t help this, but when faced with entertaining food for worms, I guess I might do the same. Tunes like “Geraldine” and “Daddy’s Gone” sounded better than the rocking originals – the whole show had a Leonard Cohen vibe to it. A man across the aisle from me complained that it wasn’t a full band, I wanted to yell at him “It’s called NUANCE! Adjust, motherfucker!”. Where I was expecting to be disappointed, I was actually swayed and haunted. It was fitting to hear these Scottish dirges on a gray, misty graveyard evening. Though the moisture did give one pause – my friend next to me remarked that she was nervous that the giant ice sculpture was melting onto the instruments and amps and might cause the Allans to be electrocuted. They could be killed. “Well, they’re in the right place, if it does happen.” I replied. Sometimes location can be the x factor of the evening.

ice sculpture of death

When I was invited to see a special acoustic performance with Bat For Lashes, I jumped at the chance. The Glasvegans had whet my appetite for some UK atmosphere and I couldn’t wait to see Miss Natasha in a dark and smoky club or out of doors under an old street lamp where the mist and fog could swirl around her layered synth songs.

Wait, she’s playing where? At a jeans store. On the Santa Monica 3rd Street Promenade. In the middle of the day. For a Neighborhood Social. Really?

Lucky Brand Neighborhood Social

As the kick off for the first Lucky Brand Neighborhood Social, Lucky lined up live silk screening by Giant Artists, denim painting by William Lemon III and provided fair food snacks for the people who stopped in. The inner sanctum of the store was reserved for a wrist banded crowd, to be treated to DJ sets by KCRW’s Jason Bentley, plus a Bat For Lashes set before their big show at the El Rey.

KCRW's Jason Bentley

Natasha Khan and her supremely talented keyboardist, Ben Christophers, took the makeshift stage which was wedged in the back of the store. People lined up and sat on jeans bins waiting for the elfin Khan to utter a sound. Khan, dressed in a gauzey pink blouse and sequined headband was instantly copied as girls in the crowd slid strings and scarves across their bangs. Ben, looking very Gold Rush/The Sting era in a long john shirt, vest and braces seemed perfect to play turn of the century xylophones, harpsichords and zithers that he whirled around like a mad scientist in a music shop. (note: see interview below for more on Natasha’s gear!)

Ben Christophers

You could hear a pin drop in between Natasha’s lilting songs, which the singer commented on, nervously. “You can talk in between songs. Be rude. It’s ok.” But the small crowd was silent and with rapt attention as if beholding the glory of a living unicorn.

Natasha Khan - Bat For Lashes

And that she is, or more closely resembling Kira from the Dark Crystal playing the keys. Her voice lilted daintily and then crecendoed into a powerful yelp, taking after her predecessor, Bjork. Natasha ended the quick half hour set with a lo-fi version of Daniel and then floated away backstage, er I mean, into the stock room.

Natasha Khan and Ali MacLean

A stock room seems hardly the place to hide away such a talent. But then again spaces and places are the name of the game today. Perhaps the thrill of the nu show is to find an oddity to jack up interest in the artist. frankly neither of these acts needed that extra push. They could’ve played in a brick walled condo in Barstow and still held as much interest.Oh dammit. I’ve just given promoters a new bad idea. Please, guys. No Barstow condo shows…

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Worn Free T Shirts – A Little Bit Comfy, A Little Bit Rock N Roll

The people at Worn Free Tees had the ingenious idea to license and recreate old soft worn in rock tees that have been seen on some of the greatest rock n roll stars of our time. Culling from the archive photos and closets of legends like Joey Ramone, John Lennon, Debbie Harry, Joan Jett, Kurt Cobain, Frank Zappa and Gram Parsons, Worn Free offers up these iconic tees with a backstage pass styled hang tag that tells you when and where the star was first spotted in them.

This has got to be the best blend of music and fashion. Where else can you find the clothes of your favorite icons without breaking the bank or being overdressed? Worn Free shirts have been spotted on the Kaiser Chiefs, Travis, Joel McHale, Carmen Electra, The Roots, The Whip, Ellen Page, Robert Downey Jr. and Gary Oldman.

I was very flattered when Worn Free sent me a few tees to wear on my show. And the tees were flattering and comfortable, not to mention cool as f#*k. On my way to interview Juan MacLean at his Hollywood show at Control, photog extraordinaire Rony Alwin, who (obviously can’t read) snapped this photo…

photo by Rony Alwin. T shirt by Worn Free

Well, Worn free saw this pic and fired off a love letter. The feeling is mutual.

You can read their blog here:

Worn Free

In July there is a discount on all of the Debbie Harry tees in honor of the ultimate Blondie’s birthday. You can order shirts here:

Worn Free Tees

Detroit Rocks This City – Von Bondies Shake Up The Strip

I’ve been hustling my little bunny tail all over Southern California recently. Lately, I’m in high demand to cover shows. But once you enter the realm of music journalism, the shows become work and it’s hard to detach from being the observer, rather than the music fan.

Sometimes you just want to have a blast, and the Von Bondies are always a good time. They’ve sat on my interview couch beaucoup temps and are hilarious onstage and off. (note to self: I need to pitch a show with my funny musician friends. Signing up the Bondies and Murs first!)

Jason Stollsteimer

Christy Hunt

Local lads from Bloodcat Love opened the night at The Viper Room, with their sassy Jagger swagger and set the tone for a bit of rock city, a Detroit/LA blend. Of course lead singer and founder, Jason Stollsteimer had to make the fans nervous, mentioning something about this being their last show in LA ever.

Leann Banks and Jason Stollsteimer

Was this the big Von Bye Bye? Or was Jason just aping Trent Reznor? Sure, it’s tough without the major label throwing money at you, but Stollsteimer has managed to sign with Shout Factory and with the new line up, including hot rock chicks Christy Hunt and Leann Banks, and drummer extraordinaire Don Blum, it’s like the Bondies never skipped a beat since the days of C’mon, C’mon.

Don Blum

The show was tight, choreographed and sharp, but never artificial. The Bondies always put out a perfect blend of staged showmanship and ragged rock – rough and tumble the way it’s meant to be heard. And sweaty loud. All what I was looking for in my Von Mondie.

Ali On The Air and Jason Stollsteimer

Holocaust Museum and Hate Mongering – Guns and Blogs Used For Hate?

Hate-mongering, whether it be with a gun in a museum, or hidden behind a computer screen in the blogosphere is dangerous…what is the solution? Freedom of Speech is our right in this country. But when comments and slurs incite violence, how do we stop it, combat it, temper it? Ideas? Comments? R.I.P, Stephen Tyrone Johns. You are a hero and your steps to protect others in the face of hate won’t be forgotten.

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Band Of Skulls – Rock’s New Backseat Lovers

Dammit, I wish I still had my 1974 Chevy Monza. She was an old beater, white, with wood paneled interiors and an 8 track player. I only had 4 cassettes I picked up at a garage sale: Saturday Night Fever Soundtrack, Foghat, Sweet and some musical (Chess?), but it was a bad-ass car. Not that I appreciated it when I was sixteen. Most of my friends got a Beemer or an Mercedes when they turned sixteen, just as they spent winters in Aruba, coming back from Christmas break with cornrows and hickeys.

No, I didn’t appreciate my $200 ‘74 Monza beater. I berated it for not being a cool enough car to tool around in with my fellow cheerleaders. It wasn’t a flashy Iroc or a brand new mint Audi. So, I wasn’t that bothered when the Monza met an untimely end at the hand of Mike Ruffino’s station wagon in the high school parking lot…but I mourn the little Monza now. I wish I had it today. The first thing I’d do is cruise down Vine street while listening to UK act Band Of Skulls.

BOS played two back-to-back shows last night at the Viper Room and the Rumble at the 3 of Clubs. They were rowdy but intimate shows, where I stood close enough to see the rocknroll pores of the players. If you weren’t there, you won’t get to see pores anytime soon…rumor has it their next big US date will be Lollapalooza.

photo: Quinlan

Of course comparisons to this hard rock trio will undoubtedly mention two pieces like the Black Keys and The White Stripes. Sure, the bluesy rock riffs are similar, but only if Meg White could really sing – and play a mean bass line. There’s something more here than just another searing Wolfmother scorcher too. The songs are more complex, while at the same time being catchy with a classic rock feel. I don’t know why but I imagined making out to this music in the back of my Monza, with Sweet blaring through the open windows.

Maybe it’s the dual singer pairing of Russell Marsden and Emma Richardson’s vocals, Emma bringing the Chrissie Hynde/Heart feel while Russell howls a la White. Perhaps it’s the performance level, which is hard and tight but at the same time filled with space and pregnant, rock baby pauses. Perhaps it’s because they’ve recorded their first album at the musical Vatican – Radiohead’s Courtyard Studios. Or hell, maybe it’s because it just rocks – it doesn’t have to be smart or make sense if it moves you. And it made me want to move to the back seat. If you want to get in on their rise to the top, you can download their new Shangri-La Music release, Baby Darling Doll Face Honey.

I tunes had a free mp3 download too, for the broke and hungry. That might hold you over until you can catch them on tour with Brody Dalle’s Spinerette or at the Hammer Museum in July. Otherwise, for more skullduggery, you’ll have to beg me for a ride in my Monza.

Carina Round – Backseat (Official Video)

Carina Round is my favorite female performer today. Her live show was phenomenal tonight – and every night I’ve seen it. She is about to leave my other faves like her (PJ Harvey, Auf Der Maur, etc) in the dust. Here’s one of her softer songs. Check her out!!

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Love And Rockets So Alive Again With Tribute Album

Not only does this tribute feature my childhood hometown musical hero, Black Francis, but it also boasts Maynard from Tool, The Flaming Lips, A Place To Bury Strangers, Chantal from Morningwood and my favorite San Francisco Silverlakers, Film School.

Plus it was produced with love (and rockets) by Christopher the Minister from Sirius Radio and the lovely Phil J of Swinghouse Studios fame…plus art work by Shepard Fairey…is it Christmas?

Details below:

New Tales to Tell: A Tribute to Love and Rockets

“Love & Rockets are many things, but what they are more than anything are agents of that mysterious force known as Rock & Roll, a force loved by many but truly understood by a few” –Black Francis

New Tales To Tell, A Tribute To Love and Rockets is produced by
Christopher The Minister & Phil Jaurigui
Album art created by Shepherd Fairey

Track listing:

All In My Mind – Black Francis
Holiday On The Moon – Puscifer (MJ Keenan)
Love Me – War Tapes
No New Tale To Tell – Blaqk Audio
I Feel Speed – Dubfire
Inside The Outside – The Dandy Warhols
Kundalini Express – The Flaming Lips
Life In Laralay – Sweethead
An American Dream – Film School
The Light – A Place To Bury Strangers
Mirror People – Monster Magnet vs Adrian Young
Fever – The Stone Foxes
No Big Deal – Frankenstein 3000
It Could Be Sunshine – VEX
So Alive – Better Than Ezra
Lazy – Chantal Claret vs Adrian Young
Sweet F.A. – Ian Moore
No Words No More – Snowden

LOVE and ROCKETS

Digital release: July 28th, 2009

Physical release: August 18th, 2009

Look for special bonus tracks and Blue & Red Limited Edition vinyl.