La La Love The Pixies: The US Doolittle Tour Ends In San Diego

Reposted from Antiquiet

The last time I saw The Pixies‘ Doolittle tour, I was too young. As in: too young to get into the venue. My teen guy friends, Dan, Mike, and I snuck out of our houses and drove an hour south of Boston to sneak into a dive in Rhode Island called The Living Room. Whatever the consequences were going to be, it was worth it to see our very favorite band, one that most idiots in our school seemed to forgo for Guns N’ Roses and Vanilla Ice.

Sorry, but I didn’t want to collaborate and listen. I wanted to scream, stomp and gouge away to the man named Black’s surfy guitar riffs and Kim’s thudding bass lines. I wanted to slice up eyeballs and get rocked by Joe. Back then, when every one else wanted to bust a move, David’s La La Love You was my answering machine message and I could give a fuck about November Rain.

Our renegade trip to Rhode Island landed us right in the middle of the Pixies mosh pit action and we joyfully came out with a twisted ankle, a broken arm and a black eye, which we wore for weeks to come like underage badges of courage. After the show, Frank Black saw the shredded state I was in and bought me a coke. I got to have a soda with Black Francis. Can you say: BEST SHOW EVER?

It’s now twenty years later and everybody is all growed up, or at least we should be. Dan, who is now an anchor for ABC World News, faces many dangers on assignment in the Middle East, but I still think his most heroic moment was diving face first into that mosh pit. I should have moved on from music by now, but it’s part of my life. Now I talk to Frank/Charles via Twitter and Facebook, and I see him in Los Angeles quite often. The wide eyed teen getting her ass kicked in that mosh pit would want to be me, like, so much.

At San Diego’s Rimac Arena on Sunday (Sept. 26), the last stop of the U.S. Doolittle tour, I was hooked again from the very first plunk of Deal’s bass line.  I was overwhelmed by how much I love this album, this particular piece of music.  Is it possible for a piece of music to mean so much to one in their life? Time has marched on, but my love for Doolittle has not wavered one bit. Luckily, they played each song on the album, one by one.

As the twangy discordant strum of Here Comes Your Man began, a black and white film of the band started rolling, with the fabulous foursome in separate boxes, like a Pixies version of Help! It occurred to me, The Pixies could very well be my Beatles. My generation’s Beatles. Okay, they may not be as well known to the masses. They aren’t sold at Starbucks. They don’t have action figures and lunch boxes. They haven’t been knighted…yet. However, the Pixies are certainly as revered and respected, copied and influential to what has come next. Without the Pixies there would be no Nirvana. And without Nirvana, well most everyone I know would probably be out of a job. Just imagine, Ray Bradbury style, the imprint they’ve left on rock, grunge and indie rock. Now try to picture a world where they were never here at all.

Frank and the gang slid from track to track easily like they were hanging out with old friends. Kim teased the crowd, testing them, by shouting out at one point:

“This is Side Two, towards the end…where people get buried a little bit.”

She didn’t need to worry. The older crowd knew every word, as did the young punks wearing spirit hoodies and freshly bought Pixies tees. Everyone en masse insisted on two encores and they were treated to songs from Come On Pilgrim and Surfer Rosa. Standouts were Vamos and Gigantic and a hazy version of Into The White when a seemingly malfunctioning smoke machine made the arena visibility white out conditions.

The huge crowd sighed along with Kim’s ‘ahhhooooo’ as the band rounded out Where Is My Mind. The room lit up with stars and cell phone camera flashes and the backdrop played a video of warp speed galaxies, like some Lucas film – another great staple of our generation. Sure, there may have been improvements to the technology, equipment and special effects since then. But not the movies themselves. Same thing could be said for the music.

Long live the Pixies.

The Good, The Bad, and The Courtney – A Mini Review of SXSW

This year, South By Southwest was even more of a business trip for me. Not a search and destroy mission of boys, bands, and booze as it was for a lot of my friends. I had notes and cards, I had a freaking power point presentation…would I find the time to enjoy some aural pleasure?

As a panelist I felt a weighty duty to teach and impart pearls of wisdom to the musicians, label people and publicists who braved the rivers of green beer and gathered in the Convention Center for my seminar, Working The Press; Intellectual Intercourse and Interviews.

photo by christopher holcombe

We spent an hour discussing how to land a good radio or TV interview and how to behave properly once you do.

I realized as I was speaking that I was doing it, not only for the audience, but also for myself and my fellow hosts. As I showed the infamous clip of Johnny Rotten behaving badly on The Tom Snyder show, as well as that blisteringly uncomfortable Billy Bob Thornton interview, I realized that I may be helping many of my fellow talk show hosts and radio DJs in the process.

We are not the enemy. We are there to help and we love music just as much as the ones who create it. OK, so my speech was a little Jerry McGuire and a little Almost Famous. I got very Cameron Crowe on their asses. But I borrow from the best.

After the seminar was done, it was rock and roll camp time. Every year, SXSW becomes a bit more unmanageable. More corporate sponsors bring in their forts and tents and unapproved soirees that overshadow the showcasing bands who bust ass to get to Texas and play their hearts out.

I’m not complaining about a free taco and a margarita but I think its a fucking shame that Perez Hilton spends thousands of dollars to paint a building pink, and fly Snoop Dog in for a party that will ultimately keep thousands of people from going to a showcase where a hardworking band (who probably spent every cent they had to get out to Austin) is playing. It sucks and it’s not what SxSw is about. Well, like Sundance, it’s unfortunately what SxSw has become.

I did attend some parties, but I tried to balance it out with showcasing bands and up and coming acts. Here is a cross-section of some of the highs and lows, deep in the heart of Texas.

photo by Eugene Hernandez

I caught a Shadow Shadow Shade performance/taping at the IFC studios Tuesday evening. The band formerly known as Afternoons took to the stage to play some sunny pop in the crowded studios. Though the songs were well crafted and well-played, they didn’t hold my attention very long.

Unfortunately, this was something that was a common occurence this week and a deadly problem for any band vying for attention in a city with thousands of others playing slots at any given time. A LOT of bands in LA/Silverlake right now have that throwback 70s sunny Cali pop sound. I don’t dislike it. In fact, I do like it. What I don’t like is when everything gets very samey. I don’t blame the bands for this, necessarily. I just find it hard to listen to all of it over and over again. When everything begins to sound the same (whether it be sunny pop, electronic MGMT stuff, Emopunk, Hotel cafe, or whatever,) then you better be THE BEST out there, or you will get lost in the Hollywood shuffle. Being great isn’t always enough. Emmitt Rhodes anyone?

Band Of Skulls played at the British Embassy Barbeque party Wednesday afternoon…well BBQ it wasn’t  - not unless you can count empanada type pasties in a chafing dish as a barbeque. Since the food was served al fresco, perhaps the Brits cheekily thought it was Tex Mex style? No matter, I love them all the more for it.

Band Of Skulls, one of the best new bands out there and I dare say, one of the best showcasing bands at South By Southwest, tore apart the stage and showed a craftmanship that has even improved since their being on the road via their Twilight soundtrack spot  and BRMC touring slot. Yet theirs is not a polished poppy sound. It is the cool fuzzy, garage rock sound of an old amp Jimi Hendrix would have plugged into. Amen. For a video interview with the band, click here.

At the NPR showcase, I was introduced to Visqueen who opened for a juggernaut lineup of The Walkmen, Sharon Jones And The Dap Kings, Broken Bells, and Spoon.

The Walkmen and their drunken fairy saloon music have always been favorites of mine. Lead singer, Hamilton Leithautser, is more Sunday New York Times cross word puzzle than Vice Magazine Do and Donts, which makes me supremely happy.

Sharon Jones and the Dap-Kings stormed the stage next with some Motown madness which goes to show that the music business is not just for the kids. Jones is a tour de force performer and though it was an older skewed crowd at the NPR showcase, she is almost wasted at a dust bowl like Stubbs. She should be doing class venues such as the Hollywood Bowl.

The next act, was the highly anticipated collaboration between Dangermouse and Shins lead singer James Mercer, Broken Bells. After what seemed like a forever and a day set up, the set was lackluster and uneven, disappointing many in the crowd, which thinned out considerably.

Spoon followed next. Britt Daniel, the unofficial mayor of Austin, did not disappoint the toe tapping, mild-mannered, tax paying NPR crowd, playing many off the new album and even covering the Damned.

Looking for a little bit more trouble than I’d find ala NPR, I dragged myself to a 1:30 am Hounds Below show that did not disappoint. Mixing Brill Building and fuzzy Detroit feedback. Jason Stollsteimer’s new band rocked the Habana Calle into the wee hours of the morning. The band even promised a hot tub party for those who could brave the 1-35.

The Hounds Below

I’m glad for the Roy Orbison, 60′s sound revival that is making a comeback with acts such as Findlay Brown, Codeine Velvet Club and the Motown sounding acts.

On the other side of feedback was The Butterfly Explosion. All the way from Ireland and fronted by Gazz Carr, this Musebox Act kicked off the daytime party with fuzzy, brooding songs. It was half way into their set before anyone noticed the sun was shining with all the shoe gazing going on. The band is a mix of shoe gaze and post rock; Ride meets Sigur Ros with of course some MBV, but with their own lush spin on it. If you like euphoric musical landscapes then you need to check out this band.

Butterfly Explosion

I traipsed over to the Babelgum party at the French Legionare Museum which was on this gorgeous property, rolling lawns gated by stone walls and large trees, tented stages and drink booths…it was much more Coachella than SxSw vibe. The only problem was the sound. It was such a muddy mess that it made The XX sound like they were drowning inside a subway toilet. It was so dreadful I decided to leave rather than to think of them as being that bad.

My next discovery was perhaps one of my favorites of the festival. ARMS sprung forth from the breakup of The Harlem Shakes. Todd Goldstein reformed ARMS, a solo project he had started in ’04, and began performing wry melancholic songs about an unraveling couple. The songs have killer harmonies with a Walkmenesque quality, which makes sense, considering ARMS has found a home with the Walkmen’s label, Gigantic.

Todd Goldstein - ARMS

Goldstein’s vocals have almost a  Michael Stipe and Stephen Merritt quality, wavering yet angry. Still the most interesting thing about the live performance was Todd’s stage presence. Charismatic, and witty in between numbers, he remained far more upbeat than the story line of the doomed couple in his gem of an album, Kids Aflame.

The Rolling Stone Showcase boasted a lot of up and coming artists that hipsters, journos and label people were eager to hear. LA based Dawes played to a sparse crowd, warming up for buzz band The Whigs.

The Whigs

The Whigs had the heavy head when they were crowned by Rolling Stone last year as the best unsigned band in the country. That can often wreck a groups chances, but so far they’ve managed well. Signing with ATO, they hopped on a tour with Kings Of Leon and Dead Confederate. Luckily their dirty Garage sound skews more towards the swirling madness of Dead Confederate with the buoyancy of Kings, but they play songs with more than three chords. They kicked off the show with the battle cry “Turn off the lights, it’s time to party!” and they meant it. They dove into the set, with driving bass lines reminiscent of their future tour mates, BRMC. The Whigs have a bright future. Hopefully they will keep their rock dirty and varied.

Titus Andronicus, another RS buzz band already named the best of 2010, (oh Rolling Stone. You cheeky monkeys. It’s March!) To me, from where I sat crouched by the bar, they seemed like a high performance level shoegaze band named after one of The Bard’s less performed plays. But I could be downplaying them quite a bit. Perhaps that’s because the next band was such a party in a bottle.

Free Energy is the next party cruise in 40 tight minutes. If you like Sweet, Cheap Trick, The Cars, Thin Lizzy, and cute boys who drink beer, then get ready to dance your face off. These guys are only here to make you have a good time. That’s it. They play, you dance. You forget your troubles. It’s the Andrew WK philosophy, minus the fake blood and puke and sticky aspects of rock and roll. It’s the boys answer to The Donnas. The 70′s glam rock era revitalized with tight black jeans and runaways and satin jackets and extra lip gloss just paves the way for Free Energy’s sweet sexy glammy classic rock to make you want to can the can with Suzi Q, Gary Glitter and the rest of them. Each song sounds quite anthemic – perhaps these boys will be played in stadiums during very important sporting matches someday to unsuspecting jocks. But for now, they just wanna have fun.

Free Energy

One of the coveted laminates to wear around your neck was for the Spin showcase at Stubbs. The line up was a  schizo combination: a luke warm set from Rogue Wave, a manic set from Fucked Up (including lead singer, Damian Abraham, creating his own muddy mosh pit by pouring bottled water into the dusty ground in front of the stage and rolling around in it),

Fucked Up - Make Your Own Mosh Pit, Just Add Water

and a lightweight set from the elusive electronics of Miike Snow, which didn’t seem to translate in the broad daylight.

Miike Snow

But the real elephant in the room was waiting backstage. Courtney. It was the first time Hole was playing in the US in ten years. And without Hole. Would she show? Would she have a melt down? Would she be fat? Gawkers, detractors and mega fans everywhere were sticking around through the rather tepid showcase just to catch a glimpse of what I dubbed the Love-Train-Wreck.

The Love Train Wreck pulled into the Stubbs station about twenty minutes late, but for Courtney time, that’s no big thang. Wearing an orange pageant sash that was emblazoned with ‘Beware’, that most likely doubles as caution tape, Love launched into a curious cover of ‘Sympathy For The Devil’…I was not sure she was going to get any, as she announced “We are Hole, whether you like it or not, you little shit sucks.”

Wearing some type of wild, wild, west bar whore outfit and sounding like Stevie Nicks on a bender if she had been gargling with a cheese grater, Courtney flirted with being on key and was brash and confident…she was, well, Courtney.

Playing a mix of older hits (Violet, Reasons To Be Thankful, Miss World) and newer ones (Skinny Little Bitch, Samantha) Love tried to win over the crowd and coax us into thinking that her new songs would vault her back to superstar status. But even when she was making fun of Bret Michaels for being a washed up mess, I couldn’t help but think, ‘Courtney, isn’t that like the Hole calling the chasm, black?’

After a round of meetings and dinners I was whisked back to Stubbs for the Myspace secret show which turned out to be the worst kept industry secret – it was Muse and Metric. I like both bands but what made the night was seeing New York friends I hadn’t seen for ages.

What was unfortunate was the loooong line of über Muse fans that snaked down the streets of Austin who didn’t get close to getting in, while A&R people stood around and didn’t even watch the performance. Oh Music Industry, you big bitch. Afterwards there were many cool show to see. Sixth street in of itself was a carnival, like Mardi Gras, and when my friends and I jumped into a pedi cab to get to another showcase, drunken revelers literally swarmed the cab and began rocking it, trying to get us out. I’m not sure if they were trying to turn the thing over or scare us or the driver…but we were amazed.

This is SxSw, not a Lakers parade you asshats. We know how to handle you and you will get a beat down.

Saturday was my last morning before I escaped Margaritaville and I planned on hitting a few barbeques and panels before the airport.

Bob Schneider played a fun set at Stubbs early in the morning at the Rachael Ray event. And it has become quite an event. My friend and I went over there to catch School of Seven Bells. It was freezing and slightly raining and the place was set up with the sponsors frozen drink machines, instead of the coffee people so desperately needed. Funny thing…the ‘yummo’ food that Ray is supposedly so famous for, was pretty fucking awful. As was her husband’s band, which I think is the whole reason she puts on the event. The name of his band is called The Cringe…I don’t even need to comment further. He’s done my job for me.

Free Energy and LA favorites Local Natives played the small indoor stage (of course. Let The Cringe play the Main Stage and clear the venue. Good idea. Yummo). Andrew W.K.  got some people to party hard…although not too hard, because we were all in danger of losing our limbs to frostbite.

I headed to the convention center early to warm up and catch an amazing panel on Bill Hicks, one of the greatest comics that ever lived. A documentary about his life played at the film festival throughout and I have to say it was an amazing panel discussion – possibly the highlight of the week.

Bill Hicks

Oh Austin. You sure did keep it weird. Your mercurial hot and cold weather. Your open doors to spring breakers and corporate whores. Your damn Grackles. But I love you and I keep coming back for more. Next year? Same time, same place?

The Hounds Below – Bringing The Class & Style Of The 60s To Modern Rock

Blame it on the Mad Men if you want, but all of a sudden class and style are coming back into vogue in music. With acts like Mayer Hawthorne, Fitz and The Tantrums and Sharon Jones And The Dap Kings bringing 60′s soul back into the groove, it’s high time that the dudes of 90026 pack away the neon nikes and tank tops and put on a fucking shirt before they pick up their dates.

Fitz And The Tantrums

I don’t think I’m alone when I say I ache for songs with style and romance and panache. Sure, I love to dance to some synthy piece of candy floss every now and then, but when I go back to my vinyl collection…when I have an actual visceral connection to a piece of music, I’m usually not thinking of waving a glow stick in the air when I’m hearing it.

I’m not saying all music has to be as classy as the sounds that came from the Brill Building.

But tricks are for kids (and MGMT, apparently) and those who hang around in what looks like their pajamas, are seriously being shown up by the style and grace of the new crop of crooners we have coming up.

When Findlay Brown saunters onstage in a sharp suit and sings heartfelt love songs, the only thing the thing the dirty hipster  to my left is gonna be pulling that evening is the un-tied laces on his dunks.

Findlay Brown

It’s very subtle, the power of suggestion. Just a phrase, a stride, a note, it can all really color your view, your mood, your opinion. That’s what music does. For instance, Findlay’s songs give off the air of a scotch and soda…or something in a high ball glass. You get the feeling that your going to be taken out and treated well. The white wall tires have been armoralled and that a steakhouse is involved. There’s a commitment there. There’s an intention. There’s thought and feeling and carbonation.

The other guy? Red bull and vodka guy? I’d probably end up having to take a cab home after he puked on my shoes.

Class. It works.

Enter The Hounds Below. A new outfit headed by Von Bondies frontman Jason Stollsteimer, the young, good looking band is another throwback to roadhouse rock and roll with Roy Orbison warbles.

The Hounds Below

At first it might seem strange that Mister VB would choose this as his next musical adventure, but if you think of his vocal quality and then think of Orbison in ‘Crying’, added with Stollsteimer’s Detroit Rock City roots, it makes perfect fucking sense.

A quick moving set at Spaceland last night, only their 16th live show ever, showed enormous promise.

In Silverlake, the land of apathy and uber cool, The Hounds had people toe tapping, twisting and dare I say, jitterbugging.You have no idea how much this means. I don’t think Jason realizes how much this meant. In other parts of the country, when a band plays good music, I’m pretty sure the people in the audience dance. In industry laden, hipster haunts in LA, it isn’t often so. To see what might of been a lindy hop (?) styled couples dance going on tickled me and I felt the need to explain this to the band. “You are making an impact. You are warming the cockles. Cockles are being warmed. Encore!”

I tried to beam a Blue Velvet styled Bat signal out to David Lynch, who seems comfortable doing the weather report currently, but when he gets a hold of this EP, he will undoubtedly be inspired to write and direct another twisted highway tale of love and immorality. I think he has his bar band cast.

Two cool and unexpected covers layered into the set were a lilting Wall Of Sound styled version of the Pixies ‘Where Is My Mind’ and The Animals’ hit ‘We Gotta Get Out Of This Place’.

Stand out tracks to get you in the righteous twangy mood such as ‘Crawling Back To You” and the stomper  ‘She’s Alchemy’ can be found on their Myspace site.

I highly recommend taking in their set. It will take you back to another era, one where the boys dance with the girls and people say what they mean and mean what they say.

Okay, maybe that does sound like an alternate universe. Someone put a call into David Lynch.

The Hounds Below are currently opening for Black Rebel Motorcycle Club and will be showcasing at SXSW. For dates, visit:

http://www.myspace.com/thehoundsbelow

Guitar Center Fell In Love With A Drummer

The Guitar Center’s 2009 Championship Drum Off’s moved this year to the Wiltern and that wasn’t the only moving on up they did. The contest with the $25,000 cash prize also featured a Tommy Lee headlined Bezerk spectacle, including performances by Max Weinberg (from both Bruce Springsteen and Conan O’Brien fame) playing in tandem with his son Jay, Chad Smith (RHCP), Matt Sorum (Guns & Roses), Sully Erna (Godsmack), Frank Zummo (Street Drum Corps) and more.

The top five contestants vied for the grand prize by performing a five minute set, judged by a panel of highly accomplished drum celebrities including Peter Erskine (Steely Dan), Taylor Hawkins (Foo Fighters), Drew Hester (Foo Fighters / Joe Walsh), Thomas Lang, Jason Sutter (Chris Cornell), Kenny Aronoff (John Mellencamp / Sessions Legend), John Tempesta (The Cult), Tony Royster Jr. (Jay-Z), Nisan Stewart (Jamie Foxx / 50 Cent) and Ray Luzier (Korn).

While the votes were tallied, the evening veered from touching:

Guitar Center  inducted drum icons Billy Cobham and John Bonham into Guitar Center’s Drum Legends  and then Jason Bonham drummed in time to footage of his dad, the legendary John Bonham of Led Zeppelin.

To the downright bizarre:

Tommy Lee chased around a midget who jumped out of a trash can while Sully Erna rappelled down the scaffolding keeping a beat…

It truly was the Ringling Bros of drummers, and the ringmaster, Stephen Perkins, kept pulling more and more acts out onstage.

I managed to wrangle some one on one time with Jason Bonham before his amazing performance, as well as Drum Off judge Kenny Aronoff, who had just finished playing the Kennedy Center Honors the week before, in tribute to Bruce Springsteen.

Both Jason and Kenny eschewed the dreaded drum solo, which was amusing considering the set up of the entire event. They both also stressed the importance of being in a band and of working together with other musicians. Hear that music people? Can’t we all just get along?

I also sat down with this year’s winner, Ramon Sampson.

19 year old South Africa native and Tennesse citizen, Sampson competed last year but came back again this year and grabbed the grand prize package worth more than $40,000.

Ramon, who started drumming at the age of one (total slacker, right?), says he’s first going to  buy himself some wheels, probably in his favorite color, lime green. Then he’s going to roll down the windows and play some Michael Jackson in tribute to one of his favorite artists.

You can check out my renegade video here:

Ramon’s winning performance can be viewed here. He’s pretty amazing:

A Very Raging Christmas – Crap Music Is Over, If You Want It

In a land far, far away, called Great Britain a yearly war wages every winter. In this magical Narnian Isle, music is still a viable commodity taken very seriously. Their denizens actually record new holiday songs every season in the hopes of having the top Christmas single of the year.

We cynics across the pond are fine to do with the recycled, rehashed songbooks – over the river and through the wood, decking the halls and all that. Why would you need MORE freaking Christmas? A trip outside for a few hours on Black Friday and we’re drowning in so much Christmas it’s enough to move to the Aboriginal outback.

But England doesn’t mess around. Music and Christmas are a very serious thing. I mean, they still have music programming on TV, AND the government pays for some of it. Can you imagine if our government gave PBS money to make old school MTV styled programming? I might actually still want to live here.

Yes, England gets downright fervent about music, specifically the ‘single’. Especially when it comes to the OZ like machinery of Simon Cowell and company, who pump out yearly soft rock balladeers with their contest shows like Pop Idol and X Factor.  Yes, we have our American Idol, but it pales in comparison to the juggernaut that X Factor brings to the UK every year.

I was treated to the wonders of X Factor this October when I was staying in London. I politely watched with some fervent friends over Sunday roast and found myself drawn in by a bigger, cattier, more sordid and maudlin type of idol where the judges mentor the contestants, take sides and cut each other down so furiously I’m surprised they’re not allowed swords onstage. I have to admit I did get a little hooked. OK, a lot. It wasn’t the music, which was mostly dreadful. It was the huge soppy spectacle of it.

X Factor Judges

But truly music is the loser in this scenario, if it’s nothing more than a soapbox stump for Rhianna or Janet to pimp their new album, in between green faced kids being forced to sing George Michael covers. The winner of this contest releases a single and that song, most likely, goes on to be the Christmas single winner, no doubt to be over played through out the holiday season and beyond, knocking struggling bands off the charts and out of our memories as the new year chimes in.

This year’s X Factor winner, pie eyed Joe McElderry is an 18 year old Geordie accented charmer with a lilting, soaring voice who is as sweet as a Disney cartoon heroine. Blech. They even chose for his first single, the Christmas single in question, to be ‘The Climb’, a Miley Cyrus cover. Jesus. Come on, England! Throw some tea overboard!

Well, Jon Morter for this revolting enough to do something.  Sick of the slick promotional big label machine and the ‘crap’ it pumps out, he decided to take a stand and protest by simply using social media. Jon made a Facebook page called RAGE AGAINST THE MACHINE FOR CHRISTMAS NO.1. On the page he asked the fans to buy his favorite band’s 1994 single, Killing In The Name Of, instead of X Factor Joe McElderry’s new Cyrus single “The Climb”.

The kid, Joe McElderry, seems nice enough – benign in a musical theater, syrupy sweet kind of way. He wasn’t even my choice to win the thing – I would have gone with the song and dance man Olly Murs, if I were holding a UK green card, but there I go, tipping my hand as someone who has seen enough of the show to care.

The fact is, there has always been pop music that was put together in a board room. Girl groups formed in the offices of the Brill Building weren’t exactly an organic creative process but still some of the best songs ever sung.

So some pop music can’t be denied, even if the singer didn’t pen the song themselves…but the pervasive problem today, it seems, is the onslaught of boy bands and mall makeovers done on any kid with half a voice who are put on diet pills and thrust into the spot light like Three Octave Barbie.  In a month their CD, filled with tuneless drivel, is overstocked at Walmart and outselling the grassroots band that actually writes music.

If you throw money and PR at a turd, the public will spend money on it. Sheeple are Sheeple, as the D Mode song goes…and the loser is not only the smaller musician out there, but ultimately the music listening public.

Enter Rage Against The Machine. Now they were invited to the party, unbeknownst to them, not because they are a small unknown indie rock band. No, they are a huge successful act on Sony, the very same Goliath label that Cowell and McElderry call home. But RATM started from humble beginnings and won each of their hundreds of thousands of fans, one by one. Not from a television show contest, but by playing small gigs and then larger ones. By touring relentlessly. By making music. And yes, by being political loud mouths and standing up for the little guy.

In an interview with UK paper The Sun, RATM frontman Tom Morello stated: “It is a historic campaign to save the UK pop charts from the abyss of bland mediocrity and we’re 100 per cent behind it. It’s really amazing and completely a grassroots uprising. It’s not like the band put this forward, it was the people. I found out about it when some friends of mine from the UK texted me.”

As the race between the two tightened, things got more heated. And weirder. Cowell kept accusing Rage of being bullies. Then the Facebook page went down and suddenly thousands of fans were inexplicably lost. And of course there were rumblings that this was all just an underground ploy of Sony executives to drive up sales of both singles – a major payday for Sony either way.

However, to show that it wasn’t a Sony plot, Morello promised that the band would reunite and play a free concert for London fans if they were to win the number one spot. This earned him some scorn and harsh words from X Factor kingpin Simon Cowell, and fellow X Factor judge Cheryl Cole, a former member of all girl group Girls Aloud, who was Mc Elderry’s mentor on the show. Cheryl stated “If that song, or should I say campaign, by an American group is our Christmas Number 1, I’ll be gutted for Joe and our charts.”

Cheryl Cole and Joe McElderry on X Factor

Morello flattened Cowell and Cole’s jingoistic pleas for support of Geordie Joe.

“The X Factor song was written by a cabal of highly paid professional songwriters and was already made a hit by a pre-teen artists from the United States. That’s nothing I would feel too proud about hoisting the flag up on.”

“The X Factor suits have been pulling out every dirty trick in the book to get their single to No 1. They’ve been pressuring the big retail stores over the price of the single and there were some shenanigans that happened with the Facebook page where it went down mysteriously on the second day.

“Some of the things they are doing seem almost desperate and that’s because they’re afraid of the people.”

As the deadline neared for the tally, Joe was in the lead by a narrow margin. Tom Morello took to twitter and urged his online fans to download on itunes and help push Rage over the edge. They upped the ante by stating that they would be donating their proceeds from their Christmas single to charity. No Sony payout for the people who helped put Rage in the number one spot.

It looked as if Joe had the Xmas single sewed up, but in a Christmas miracle come from behind victory, the American revolutionaries toppled Cowell’s teen idol and took the number one spot. Davey had conquered Goliath!

Of course Cowell was ‘gutted’ for his protege, McElderry, but was gracious enough to concede the spot to a song with well over fifteen ‘fuck you’ s laden in the lyrics. Well done. Cowell supposedly even offered Jon Morter a job doing marketing for his music label, though that might just have been the PR equivalent of licking his wounds.

Whether or not you think that this contest of wills will actually change the stranglehold that Cowell and X Factor has on music, the fact is that this small group on Facebook has managed to raise 83,000 pounds (approximately $132,700) for the charity, Shelter, they’ve helped to break  two UK chart sales records…and it’s made music history and social media history.

It’s also an example that we do not have to sit idly by and listen to crap. Crap music is over, if you want it. If you don’t want it, turn it off. If you hate the television you keep seeing, turn it off. Or make your own. Vote with your dollar, your time and your energy. If you don’t like what is out there. DO NOT give it your time or energy. “I am listening to it cause it’s on” is no longer a viable option as we enter 2010 a supposed enlightened era. If you don’t like it, do something. If you can’t create an alternative, then at least turn it off.

When asked if they’d attempt to overthrow the Christmas No. 1 again next year, Jon and his team admit that it probably wouldn’t work again nor would they want it to. But they are most proud of the fact that they were able to motivate people to take a stand against mediocrity and change something in pop culture history.

On top of that, raising money for a good cause and making friends with their favorite band of all time…well that’s just part of the best Christmas gift ever.

Sunset and Vines – Rock ‘n Roll Wine Uncorks At The Sunset Strip Music Festival

Rock has a reputation for being a beer and whiskey kinda night. OK, maybe a rum and coke, then a shot of tequila, then eleventy beers kinda night. But somewhere along the way, I traded in my plastic tumbler for a wine glass. If I drink much at all, I strictly drink wine.

It seems it’d be an uneven match, navigating the pogoing crowds with a refined glass of pinot noir. Well, one less reason to stand in the mosh pit, I suppose. My drink often brings scowls or claims of “That’s a big glass of stain you’re carrying around.” Better to stand safe and sound in VIP with, my dear.  Sure, My libation choice may have made me stick out like a sore thumb, but not anymore. Now there is something that perfectly satisfies my Uptown girl tastes and my Downtown girl edge: Rock ‘N Roll Wine.

Founded by Sommelier Chris Hammond and business partner Sonny Barton, Rock ‘n Roll Wine is a wine events company dedicated to revolutionizing the way people perceive, and enjoy wine. Rock ‘n Roll Wine produces monthly wine events in Las Vegas, Los Angeles, and Ann Arbor, in addition to making their own music-themed line of wines.

I’ve been to events they’ve had tastings at before. In fact, they were doling out delicious vino at a Swinghouse Studios event. It was so nice to go to a rock party and not be shoved a monster energy drink. I even had a choice between The Grotto, a California red blend with grenache, syrah, cab and a dash of Zin:

or a white muscat, roussanne, chardonnay blend called Reggae Rhapsody:

The company does pairings…that is, music and wine pairings. They suggest that MGMT might be a good listening choice while sipping some Grotto while Jack Johnson would be a more fitting way to enjoy a glass of Reggae Rhapsody. Beach side, of course. OK, neither of those overplayed KROQ artists are my cup of tea, or wine as it were…I’m still waiting for the wines that would be good for breaking out my Gang of Four or Neu! albums, but, hey, baby steps…

Along with the music pairing idea, the company often showcases the wine while artists play onstage nearby. They’ve done events with big artists such as Dashboard Confessional, Everclear, Ingrid Michaelson, Pat Monahan of Train and Low vs. Diamond, as well as emerging artists. Jangly indie rock act? Rock N Roll wines will have a nice cabernet pour for that. Singer/Songwriter about to take the stage? A pinot grigio will be chilling near by, waiting to be sampled.

And in honor of the beer and whiskey soaked Sunset Strip doing it up with their own festival, Rock ‘n Roll Wine is going to class it up this weekend too. Or as Rock ‘n Roll wine tipplers say: “Rock Out With Your Cork Out”. The company will help kick off the festival by hosting their event at the House of Blues VIP club Foundation Room on Friday, September, 11 and feature singer/songwriter Cofféy. The wine party will feature 15 hand-selected, wines from around the world, including Rock ‘n Roll Wine’s Reggae Rhapsody and The Grotto.

To purchase your tickets in advance, visit http://www.rocknrollwine.com or call 702-240-3066. Rock ‘n Roll Wine is offering a discount to those going to the Sunset Strip Music Festival. Enter code: SSMF when ordering tickets online and receive $5 OFF addmission.

I’ll be there, sampling the wines and the rock, which to me, seem the perfect combination. If I am going to rock out on the strip this weekend, it will most definitely be with my cork out.

Wolfmother Serves Epicenter Festival A Cosmic Egg, Sunny Side Up

The host hazy and dusty race tracks are not the normal habitat of wolves. No, I picture wolves living in the misty mountain hops of vampire infested forests up in Northern America. But I wasn’t interested in spotting your average wolves. I was jonesing to see the kind of hard rock wolves who are native to Australia’s open plains. Wolfmother. They will do just fine in Pomona’s Fairplex.

I kidnapped my British friend, Som, and we headed south, outside the comfortable political and social strata of Los Angeles county. for KROQ’s Epicenter Music Festival. This being the inaugural year, they nabbed headliners Tool, Linkin Park and Alice In Chains but upon arriving, it seems that not even metal/grunge/rock juggernauts could overpower an economy on life support. Of course there are always those with disposable incomes, or meth labs in their basements…

As the backstage area slowly filled with Monster energy drink abusers of all types, the gifting suite filled up with ear plug hawkers and a laser tag course (with air rifles) was constructed in the massive media/artist building. I was quickly and succinctly shot in the face by a man in a Return Of The Jedi shirt, who was on a laser shooting spree while carrying on a cell phone conversation. C’est la Pomona vie.

The dusty field slowly became dotted with barrel-chested men in black Tool shirts, Street Sweeper Social club were adequately received, save for a few boos lobbed at them when they made political statements about sending troops overseas to fight in Iraq. You’re not in Los Angeles, anymore, Morello. Click your Hollywood heels three times. These men like their guns. And my guess is they don’t want you to kill their grandma with healthcare options.

As Som sought out his friends in the band, Hollywood Undead, I managed to spot an Australian red backed wolf, in fact the leader of his pack. Andrew Stockdale and I sat in the back of the artist tent, near where the caterers were inexplicably serving up tray after tray of hot brussel sprouts…By the way, really? Brussel sprouts? How is that a rock n roll food? Like Linkin Park is gonna come rolling through and say “Oooh I’m gonna eat the crap outta those brussell sprouts!” But I digress…

Andrew and I lounged amidst the stench of rockin’ brussel sprouts and talked about his return to sunny LA, where the band had recorded their latest release, Cosmic Egg. Andrew wholeheartedly admitted that the October 13th drop date was a nod to my birthday. He knows better to disappoint me. I mean, he does live in the land down under, but LA is like his second home so he does have to worry about making me unhappy. And how did he feel about being back in his second home?

“I do like LA. I’m interested in all the different sides to it.”

Yeah, we know. Our city can be just as bi-polar as it’s inhabitants.  That’s why we self medicate or meditate. And speaking of our namaste ways, what of the folklore that Cosmic Egg was named after some crazy yoga pose Andrew found himself in?

“Yeah, I think it was some resting pose, I’m not sure. It could have been the fetal pose. It must have been a tripped out instructor for sure.”

Tripped out sounds about right. But the Cosmic Egg is also a Hindu symbol often used to describe what we call the big bang theory. Did that factor into naming the album?

“I was interested in something I read about black holes being the end of time but now they think they’re the beginning. So it’s the end of the beginning. Or, it’s a new universe. If that makes sense. I didn’t even know all that was behind the name when I heard it. I just thought it sounded cool!”

With all the talk about the beginning and the end of the universe, and 2012 quickly approaching, anyone who is still following he Mayan calendar would be getting a little uneasy. So is this the end of days? Or is the cosmic egg cracking open something wonderful and new?

“When I first started writing songs, there were a lot of environmental issues in the press and we did shows for lower emissions. So, some of my songs are about the end of the world. You know: ‘The sun’s getting closer! We’ve got to change our ways!’ But I’m glad there are only one or two songs in there like that. One of the songs is called ‘The Violence Of The Sun’…there’s nothing hippie about it. It’s this burning mass of destruction. The environment is violent. Evolution is violent.”

As out discussion starts to get farther from mysticism: (star showers, wolves, and eggs) and further into science and the temperature of the earth’s core, Andrew gets uneasy and balks.

“I don’t want to be overly intellectual about it.” He pauses and adjusts his grey vest. “Not that I could be.” He adds, laughing.

Well, then it seems that he’s come to the right place. I don’t want to generalize but after watching Boots Riley and Tom Morello get booed, the field outside seems to be a giant mass of duh being stirred up with beer and energy cocktails. Since when did it become uncool to be smart? Was it dummy pimps, like Palin, who made the intellectual a dirty name?

“You don’t have to be dumb,” Andrew starts out carefully, “but I think it’s important to be instinctive and expressive and have passion. That goes a long way. And not being too strategic too. I saw this thing on Picasso. He wanted to get one of his mistresses pregnant so she’d be less intellectual and more in tune with life.”

Point taken.  Intellect and instinct both have their place. And I am hereby doubling up on condoms. Just in case.

As his band mates begin to shuffle by and get ready to head toward the stage, I ask Andrew if he’s seen It Might Get Loud. He hasn’t yet, but we talk about Jimmy Page and Wolfmother’s big date, opening for Led Zeppelin when they were inducted into the Rock And Roll Hall Of Fame. I point out that they are most likely the last band to ever do so and that the pressure would drive someone like me to drink.

“I sat in the backstage area and played that solo (Communication Breakdown) about fifty times before we walked out there. The bizarre thing is that James Brown was there to induct himself and he looked over at me and I gave him a little wave and he waved back. He died the next day. It’s amazing. It’s like he stayed alive just for that.”

Andrew kind of pauses, lost in the moment. A cameraman tripping over himself in front of us brings Andrew back to storytelling mode.

“Anyway we went and did Communication Breakdown. My monitor on the stage stopped working. The sound was blaring. I couldn’t hear a thing so I thought I just better go for it. It was the highest I have ever sung in my life!”

I start to laugh, picturing Andrew’s already soaring voice reaching the outer galaxies. I mention to him that whales and dolphins across the seas were with him in spirit that day. He made a legion of marine life into Zep fans that day. He smiles at the thought. I think I might have just inspired some album art work or posters for the next round.

Andrew gets ready to rock the Pomonians, but before he does, I ask him one last question. If the epicenter is the point of an underground explosion, what does he think is the next underground explosion about to hit our culture?

“Aw, I haven’t even had time to think about good stuff like that. Easy listening? Bossanova! Like Jose Feliciano? Really beautiful bossanova music.

I tell him he could start the trend today. He’s got a big audience awaiting him with rapt attention.

“Yeah, maybe I’ll bring out the nylon string today.”

If anyone could pull it off, it would be Stockdale, who has managed to bring back a classic rock sound without aping the genre. Luckily for those about to rock out at the Epicenter Festival, Andrew and the wolf crew kept it hard and loud. Mixing some new blue cheer tunes like California Queen and New Moon Rising, with old popular Zep twinged tunes like Woman, White Unicorn and Dimension, the audience roared with a whole lotta love.

credit: Firecloud

The Cosmic egg was cracked and the kids gobbled it up and were left wanting more.

May I suggest maybe releasing a b–sides rarities album? Something with a dolphin on the cover.

The Day The Music (Innovator) Died – Les Paul Dead at 94

Les Paul passed on today. Most of the men (and chicks) I know wouldn’t be standing on a stage today if it weren’t for this man. A moment of silence for the man who helped us create so much music…

From Gibson.com:
New York, NY…August 13, 2009…Les Paul, acclaimed guitar player, entertainer and inventor, passed away today from complications of severe pneumonia at White Plains Hospital in White Plains, New York, surrounded by family and loved ones. He had been receiving the best available treatment through this final battle and in keeping with his persona, he showed incredible strength, tenacity and courage. The family would like to express their heartfelt thanks for the thoughts and prayers from his dear friends and fans. Les Paul was 94.

One of the foremost influences on 20th century sound and responsible for the world’s most famous guitar, the Les Paul model, Les Paul’s prestigious career in music and invention spans from the 1930s to the present. Though he’s indisputably one of America’s most popular, influential, and accomplished electric guitarists, Les Paul is best known as an early innovator in the development of the solid body guitar. His groundbreaking design would become the template for Gibson’s best-selling electric, the Les Paul model, introduced in 1952. Today, countless musical legends still consider Paul’s iconic guitar unmatched in sound and prowess. Among Paul’s most enduring contributions are those in the technological realm, including ingenious developments in multi-track recording, guitar effects, and the mechanics of sound in general.

Born Lester William Polsfuss in Waukesha, Wisconsin on June 9, 1915, Les Paul was already performing publicly as a honky-tonk guitarist by the age of 13. So clear was his calling that Paul dropped out of high school at 17 to play in Sunny Joe Wolverton’s Radio Band in St. Louis. As Paul’s mentor, Wolverton was the one to christen him with the stage name “Rhubarb Red,” a moniker that would follow him to Chicago in 1934. There, Paul became a bona fide radio star, known as both hillbilly picker Rhubarb Red and Django Reinhardt-informed jazz guitarist Les Paul. His first recordings were done in 1936 on an acoustic—alone as Rhubarb Red, as well as backing blues singer Georgia White. The next year he formed his first trio, but by 1938 he’d moved to New York to begin his tenure on national radio with one of the more popular dance orchestras in the country, Fred Waring’s Pennsylvanians.

Tinkering with electronics and guitar amplification since his youth, Les Paul began constructing his own electric guitar in the late ’30s. Unhappy with the first generation of commercially available hollowbodies because of their thin tone, lack of sustain, and feedback problems, Paul opted to build an entirely new structure. “I was interested in proving that a vibration-free top was the way to go,” he has said. “I even built a guitar out of a railroad rail to prove it. What I wanted was to amplify pure string vibration, without the resonance of the wood getting involved in the sound.” With the good graces of Epiphone president Epi Stathopoulo, Paul used the Epiphone plant and machinery in 1941 to bring his vision to fruition. He affectionately dubbed the guitar “The Log.”

Les Paul’s tireless experiments sometimes proved to be dangerous, and he nearly electrocuted himself in 1940 during a session in the cellar of his Queens apartment. During the next two years of rehabilitation, Les earned his living producing radio music. Forced to put the Pennsylvanians and the rest of his career on hold, Les Paul moved to Hollywood. During World War II, he was drafted into the Army but permitted to stay in California, where he became a regular player for Armed Forces Radio Service. By 1943 he had assembled a trio that regularly performed live, on the radio, and on V-Discs. In 1944 he entered the jazz spotlight—thanks to his dazzling work filling in for Oscar Moore alongside Nat King Cole, Illinois Jacquet, and other superstars —at the first of the prestigious Jazz at the Philharmonic concerts.

By his mid-thirties, Paul had successfully combined Reinhardt-inspired jazz playing and the western swing and twang of his Rhubarb Red persona into one distinctive, electrifying style. In the Les Paul Trio he translated the dizzying runs and unusual harmonies found on Jazz at the Philharmonic into a slower, subtler, more commercial approach. His novelty instrumentals were tighter, brasher, and punctuated with effects. Overall, the trademark Les Paul sound was razor-sharp, clean-shaven, and divinely smooth.

As small combos eclipsed big bands toward the end of World War II, Les Paul Trio’s popularity grew. They cut records for Decca both alone and behind the likes of Helen Forrest, the Andrews Sisters, the Delta Rhythm Boys, Dick Hayes, and, most notably, Bing Crosby. Since 1945, when the crooner brought them into the studio to back him on a few numbers, the Trio had become regular guests on Crosby’s hit radio show. The highlight of the session was Paul’s first No. 1 hit and million-seller, the gorgeous “It’s Been a Long, Long Time.”

Meanwhile, Paul began to experiment with dubbing live tracks over recorded tracks, also altering the playback speed. This resulted in “Lover (When You’re Near Me),” his revolutionary 1947 predecessor to multi-track recording. The hit instrumental featured Les Paul on eight different electric guitar parts, all playing together.

In 1948, Paul nearly lost his life to a devastating car crash that shattered his right arm and elbow. Still, he convinced doctors to set his broken arm in the guitar-picking and cradling position. Laid up but undaunted, Paul acquired a first generation Ampex tape recorder from Crosby in 1949, and began his most important multi-tracking adventure, adding a fourth head to the recorder to create sound-on-sound recordings. While tinkering with the machine and its many possibilities, he also came up with tape delay. These tricks, along with another recent Les Paul innovation—close mic-ing vocals—were integrated for the first time on a single recording: the 1950 No. 1 tour de force “How High the Moon.”

This historic track was performed during a duo with future wife Mary Ford. The couple’s prolific string of hits for Capitol Records not only included some of the most popular recordings of the early 1950s, but also wrote the book on contemporary studio production. The dense but crystal clear harmonic layering of guitars and vocals, along with Ford’s close mic-ed voice and Paul’s guitar effects, produced distinctively contemporary recordings with unprecedented sonic qualities. Through hits, tours, and popular radio shows, Paul and Ford kept one foot in the technological vanguard and the other in the cultural mainstream.

All the while, Les Paul continued to pine for the perfect guitar. Though The Log came close, it wasn’t quite what he was after. In the early 1950s, Gibson Guitar would cultivate a partnership with Paul that would lead to the creation of the guitar he’d seen only in his dreams. In 1948, Gibson elected to design its first solidbody, and Paul, a self-described “dyed-in-the-wool Gibson man,” seemed the right man for the job. Gibson avidly courted the guitar legend, even driving deep into the Pennsylvania mountains to deliver the first model to newlyweds Les Paul and Mary Ford.

“Les played it, and his eyes lighted up,” then-Gibson President Ted McCarty has recalled. The year was 1950, and Paul had just signed on as the namesake of Gibson’s first electric solidbody, with exclusive design privileges. Working closely with Paul, Gibson forged a relationship that would change popular culture forever. The Gibson Les Paul model—the most powerful and respected electric guitar in history—began with the 1952 release of the Les Paul Goldtop. After introducing the original Les Paul Goldtop in 1952, Gibson issued the Black Beauty, the mahogany-topped Les Paul Custom, in 1954. The Les Paul Junior (1954) and Special (1955) were also introduced before the canonical Les Paul Standard hit the market in 1958. With revolutionary humbucker pickups, this sunburst classic has remained unchanged for the half-century since it hit the market.

“The world has lost a truly innovative and exceptional human being today. I cannot imagine life without Les Paul. He would walk into a room and put a smile on anyone’s face. His musical charm was extraordinary and his techniques unmatched anywhere in the world,” said Henry Juszkiewicz, Chairman and CEO of Gibson Guitar. “We will dedicate ourselves to preserving Les’ legacy to insure that it lives on forever. He touched so many lives throughout his remarkable life and his influence extends around the globe and across every boundary. I have lost a dear, personal friend and mentor, a man who has changed so many of our lives for the better.”

“I don’t think any words can describe the man we know as Les Paul adequately. The English language does not contain words that can pay enough homage to someone like Les. As the “Father of the Electric Guitar”, he was not only one of the world’s greatest innovators but a legend who created, inspired and contributed to the success of musicians around the world,” said Dave Berryman, President of Gibson Guitar. “I have had the privilege to know and work with Les for many, many years and his passing has left a deep personal void. He was simply put – remarkable in every way. As a person, a musician, a friend, an inventor. He will be sorely missed by us all,”

With the rise of the rock ’n’ roll revolution of 1955, Les Paul and Mary Ford’s popularity began to wane with younger listeners, though Paul would prove to be a massive influence on younger generation of guitarists. Still, Paul and Ford maintained their iconic presence with their wildly popular television show, which ran from 1953-1960. In 1964, the couple, parents to a son and daughter, divorced. Paul began playing in Japan, and recorded an LP for London Records before poor health forced him to take time off—as much as someone so inspired can take time off.

In the 1977, Paul resurfaced with a Grammy-winning Chet Atkins collaboration, Chester and Lester. Then the ailing guitarist, who’d already suffered arthritis and permanent hearing loss, had a heart attack, followed by bypass surgery.

Ever stubborn, Les recovered, and returned to live performance in the late 1980s. Until recently Les continued to perform two weekly New York shows with the Les Paul Trio, even releasing the 2005 double-Grammy winner Les Paul & Friends: American Made World Played, featuring collaborations with a veritable who’s who of the electric guitar, including dozens of illustrious fans like Keith Richards, Buddy Guy, Billy Gibbons, Jeff Beck, Eric Clapton, and Joe Perry. In 2008, The Rock and Roll Hall of Fame paid tribute to Les Paul in a week-long celebration of his life which culminated with a live performance by Les himself.

Les Paul has since become the only individual to share membership into the Grammy Hall of Fame, the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, the National Inventors Hall of Fame, and the National Broadcasters Hall of Fame. Les is survived by his three sons Lester (Rus) G. Paul, Gene W. Paul and Robert (Bobby) R. Paul, his daughter Colleen Wess, son-in-law Gary Wess, long time friend Arlene Palmer, five grandchildren and five great grandchildren. A private Funeral service will be held in New York. A service in Waukesha, WI will be announced at a later date. Details will follow and will be announced for all services. Memorial tributes for the public will be announced at a future date. The family asks that in lieu of flowers, donations be made to the Les Paul Foundation, 236 West 30th Street, 7th Floor, New York, New York 10001.

The Voice Project debuts in Hollywood – Pass It On!

Tuesday night was the first official The Voice Project fundraiser event.

The Voice Project Foundation is a not-for-profit public benefit corporation. The foundation’s mission is to raise awareness and financial support for those using art to enact meaningful social change by using art for said change.

Hunter Heaney and I conceived this organization back in January, and it’s been the little group that could, thanks to a group of amazingly talented, well connected, hard working and passionate people who have joined the cause.

The event took place at the Hollywood Roosevelt Hotel’s Tropicana pool bar during David and David’s Nightswim event.

Also celebrating that night was Alex Ebert (Ima Robot) and his new band Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros. A listening party of their new album took place earlier in the evening.

DJs Chris Holmes, Ana Calderon and special guest DJ Devendra Banhart treated the guests to tunes and hospitality.

Liz Miller, Alycia Astudillo and I manned the Voice Project suite inside.

People came in to watch our VP video, read leaflets and purchase Voice Project t-shirts, designed by the talented Ramsey.

Some special guests showed up to help further the cause, including 30 Rock’s Jack McBrayer, Lonely Island’s Akiva (I’m On A Boat) Schaffer,

Tom Green

DJ Poet from the Black Eyed Peas

and even Lindsay Lohan, who jumped onto the decks and played some Nancy Sinatra.

It was a fantastic night where a lot of money and awareness was raised and good times were had.

Proceeds will go to our inaugural project, which is to support the women of Northern Uganda in their efforts using music to lead the Peace and Reconciliation efforts in the region of Northern Uganda, Eastern DR Congo and Southern Sudan.

Women of Northern Uganda; widows, rape survivors and former abductees have been banding together in groups to support each other and those oprhaned byt the war and the diseases so prevalent in the IDP camps. They are singing songs. The lyrics let the former ‘soldiers’, i.e. children abducted by the LRA and forced to fight agaisnt their own families, know that they are forgiven and they should come home. The songs are passed by word of mouth out into the bush. It is working. For the first time in 22 years, the region has a reach chance at peace.

The Voice Project is an attempt to support these incredible women.The strength, the message and the art of these women can benefit the world and in return, we can help carry their message, provide basic necessities and the tools to further develop their own communities and businesses.

Music and voices that carry, they can end wars. These incredible women have shown us that. Pass it on.

If you’d like to get involved with The Voice Project please visit www.voiceproject.org

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…

more about “Space Oddities – Looking For Rock In …“, posted with vodpod