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?

South By Skulldiggery – Band of Skulls Continue To Conquer The US

SxSw was a (not so hot) mess. If you combined the party hounds from the Super Bowl, Mardi Gras and Spring Break and confined them to a six block radius…and then tried to add some showcasing bands to the mix, you get a pretty good idea of the mayhem.

I have a full report on my favorite finds of the festival but the only interview I granted during the whole week is a band I’ve been talking about for a year now…yes the ONLY interview I agreed to do. Band Of Skulls.

These guys knocked me off my stiletto boots in the cramped sweaty back room of Three Of Clubs last summer. And I’ve made sure not to miss their LA performances ever since whether it be at Jimmy Kimmel or the Hammer museum. Their LP release Baby Darling Dollface Honey, doesn’t have a bad song on it and is chock full of dirty sexy soulful riffs -  the way the guitar was intended to be played .

Now boasting a spot on the Twilight: New Moon soundtrack, a Lollapalooza performance, an upcoming Coachella slot and a currently touring with BRMC, it seems that Band Of Skulls is catching on across the nation. Normally that would annoy an uber fan. I’d complain that I saw them first and their popularity means that they no longer hold that special something. But it isn’t so. I’m super excited for the world to discover this bluesy ballsy band.

It’s time to stop giving our attention to the pussy auto tuned acts and start turning our attention to the deserved few who are letting it bleed. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you BAND OF SKULLS:

Two Sonic Love Letters: Findlay Brown & Sade

Forget candy hearts and wilted flowers. The way to really get to the heart of another is through the power of music.

If you really want to get laid, or hell even hitched this Hallmark holiday, there are two albums on the scene which will not only help you accomplish this task, but might even help you fall in love…with music all over again.

Findlay Brown, a young Yorkshire crooner calls himself a musical obsessive. After being struck by a car and laid up with a broken leg, Brown studied music so intently, downloading track after track of Phil Spector and Carole King Brill Building era songs and studying his favorite genre, became steeped in 60s sound before he wrote a single note on his new album, Love Will Find You.

Produced by Bernard Butler (Suede), Love Will Find You has the haunting, lilting vocals of a bygone Orbison tune and the songwriting craftsmanship of Lennon/McCartney or The Righteous Brothers. Brown claims that he was ‘unashamed’ to be sentimental when creating the album. In his favorite era, the 60′s, there was a romanticism that was present. People connected with the music and with each other.

True, in this digital age, with people often standing behind a laptop onstage, there is a greater disconnect between performer and audience member. Robot music is sometimes entertaining but no one would ever call it heartwarming or…sexy. Findlay Brown’s live show was both those things. The set was dynamic and well crafted, and it made me wistful for a time when we all looked each other in the eye and held meaningful conversations instead of texting each other.

If you want to make your sweetheart swoon, pick up a copy of Findlay Brown’s Love Will Find You.

No one is a stranger to the slow jam power of sexy Sade…But now she is back and she is NOT playing around. She recently dropped her new album, Soldier of Love, which in turn dropped jaws owned by the most jaded hipsters and seasoned music vets I know.

There’s something about Sade that makes the ‘too cool for school’ just want to get up and get down. Hell, she can make a song about GETTING LAID OFF sound sexy. When was the last time talking about being out of work for two years made you want to get up and dance and get sexed?

Well, this might change your mind:

With so many useless wars and fighting going on, thank god we have the queen Smooth Operator Sade, as our soldier of love.

Here’s the Soldier Of Love video:

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:

2010 – The Year in Review…In Advance

It started in September.

I got email after email from publications asking me for my ‘best of the year’ picks and ‘best of the decade’ choices. And then there was an onslaught online, on TV, on the radio, and in print…what’s left of print, that is.

‘Best of the…’ ‘Top Ten’, ‘Top Twenty’, ‘Top Fifty’… the ‘Top of the year’, the ‘Top of the Decade’…ad nauseum.

The year wasn’t even over and we were already rating the songs and films that have been created, comparing apples to oranges. Then it got weirder. Best tweets. Best viral videos. Best broken marriages. Best reality show melt downs. Best political failures. Best new babies born. Best real housewives you’ve never heard of.

If it happened on a grand scale, we can slap a number on it like a pig at the county fair and smugly call ourselves an expert…because that’s what a lot of us journalists, comedians, writers and bloggers are paid to do, right?

But then, suddenly, there were best of lists written by EVERYONE.  I’m glad to know that people all over are enjoying Miike Snow or Radiohead, but when butchers and bakers and candle stick makers are publishing their Best of 2009 lists, it kind of dilutes the magical lists of whatever the fuck Pitchfork or Spin puts out there. If Paste Magazine posts their fifth favorite movie is Amelie and then 20,000 other people tweet the same thing within five minutes, then does precious Paste even make a dent? No wonder magazines are dying.

And then there’s the question that I’ve been aching to ask. Who cares? Your close friends might. If you are a top critic, a few fellow editors might. If you mention something obscure you might earn some “oh yeah, I totally forgot that one!’ points.  If you can write something interesting about your favorites, then you are a gifted writer or comedian and your talents really should be used elsewhere…like on television. Seriously, TV really needs some better writers.

So what’s with all the list making? Must we constantly analyze our past pop culture? Can’t we just box it up and send it into space for other species or our descendants to discover? Can’t we move forward and create the new? The next?

Everyone is entitled to blog, tweet and have an opinion and social media has given everyone a voice. That is the wave of the future. So perhaps it means the death rattle of the ever present Best or Top lists. I mean, hasn’t VH1 beat the living  ‘I Love The’ hell out of it? I was actually assigned a best of list…and then eventually declined to do it. I removed myself from the rabble and decided to once again, look towards the future.

Strangely enough, a few days later, I was contacted out of the blue by Barb Powell, psychic to the stars. Barb doesn’t know me at all, but found my blog and asked if perhaps there wasn’t something we could work on together…like she he had read my mind or something.

Barb Powell is a psychic from Western Canada, who started with a small local client base but is now popular in Los Angeles, and has worked with the cast of shows such as The Ghost Whisperer, Haunting in Connecticut, Brothers and Sisters and The Mentalist…can she predict that Simon Baker and I are meant for each other?

Barb works in a very specific way – she doesn’t need a client to ask a lot of questions, because she gives answers to questions you haven’t even asked. Barb offered to do a mini reading on me and without knowing a thing about me personally, nailed a specific health issue I had been dealing with. Color me impressed.

Before I could ask her questions about the future of music, movies and media,  she already knew what I was looking for. And then some.

Here’s a little bit of what you can expect for 2010:

Good news for people who like their music free…The big labels will continue to get it wrong and eventually cause a big crash!

I think they will get it wrong by pouring money into stopping piracy and legal matters instead of focusing where they should perhaps use subscription type of music channels, etc in order to download.  I think in the next year to two years we will see a crash and they will then HAVE to re-organize.  However I believe that someone will come in and build up independent artists who are good of course but where there is a new way of doing things by subscribing to a site and downloading whatever, whenever they want.  This would be outside the actual music industry or RIAA and how they do things.  In another word..music will be free.

Who will this Indie Robin Hood be? That is unclear. But so far the job is available, so Silverlakers and Williamsburgers apply within!

As far as the Indie film world, Barb sees strides for filmmakers who’s pockets aren’t lined with Avatar type dollars.

We will see an increase with independent films, for sure, what with some of the most popular and cheaper films that have become a success.

Good news for the new legion of Wes Anderson types out there who want to launch their own Bottle Rocket. But they will still have to battle Big Hollywood. However with 2010 studio offerings like Hot Tub Time Machine, it might not be hard for up and comers to win at the box office and beat the majors.

Sigh. Hot Tub Time Machine. Really John Cusack? Next time you’re thinking of doing a movie like this, let me know. I’ll come stand outside your window with a boom box playing a list of reasons of why you will soon be Rob Schneider if you don’t stop this nonsense.

On the topic of music mediocrity, Barb reports:

We will see some upset for the Nickelback lead singer…the band does well but we will see a fall out later part of 2010 due to addictions….but will bounce back in 2011 for an awesome comeback record.

I will wait with baited breath for more from them…people are ready to listen to more pop songs sung by the weird art school girl, whose gender was the biggest mystery of 2009. And her hate spewing internet Svengali will get a reality show – perhaps his crowning glory?

Lots of great things for Lady Gaga career in 2010 including a TV special. Perez Hilton (famed blogger) will have his own reality show although health will become an issue.

Poor Perez. I’m sure many will come to his bedside to wish him well. After GLAAD came down hard on Perez (himself gay) in ’09 for his anti-gay slurs and his trash talk, perhaps he’ll change his ways?

I’m not holding my breath. I wonder what Perez will draw on Miley’s face when it’s reported she is with child?

More news for the Miley Cyrus fans and watchers.  There will be pregnancy rumors once again and they will turn out to be true in 2010.

Another blight on the small screen will be more Sarah Palin. Not sure this is a prediction as much as most of America unable to stop her PR steamroller, but nonetheless it’s apparently about to happen, times eleventy. Just a warning in case you want to cancel your cable subscription in advance.

We will see more of Sarah Palin on TV in late 2010 early 2011…talk show.

Sarah Palin talk show. I just threw up in my mouth. What will her show’s ‘book club’ feature, aside from her own book? Pop ups?

Barb has predicted a lot of celebrity deaths, both expected and scarily unexpected. I’ve chosen not to list them all, but one, I thought I could safely mention without any tears being shed…

This isn’t a Hollywood prediction but interesting just the same…Charles Manson will die.

Maybe this will clear the way for Roman Polanski to return to the US? And perhaps maybe many of the grizzly man indie guitarists of LA will stop emulating his long bearded look and his quest for a harem? It didn’t work out well for Charlie, guys…

Two major highlights Barb has predicted for 2010 in the media, one uplifting, one disconcerting.

Major media involving China/Japan but more so China in regards to war.

War with China is scary…and 24 hour news coverage by cable news outlets is outright terrifying. Hopefully both diplomacy and real journalism will prevail.

Singers/Actors unite for the environment to promote saving the ocean and rain forest.

If we ever needed a new Geldof (Bob, not Peaches.) to step up and create a new World Aid, the time is now.

French/American company The Hours recently started the Tck Tck Tck campagin to save the environment and there are many others.

Now is the time to unite in this cause. I, for one, would be proud to be a part of this.

Barb has made many other predictions about celebrity career triumphs and failures and marriages and divorces. Seems like it’s going to be a chock filled year. She’s even said I’m going to go against type and get cast in a serious acting role:

There will be an ongoing role in a series that reminds me of CSI or Law & Order type of show where it seems you play a detective or bad ass type of woman who gets the bad bad people.

I’m so looking forward to kicking some bad, bad ass!

So what’s your biggest prediction for 2010?

Follow both Barb and me on Twitter at @aliontheair and @mediumBarbP  and tweet us your top 2010 prediction with the hashtags #aliontheair #barbpowell.

My favorite answer will win a free reading with Barb!

Until then, have a great and list free New Year!

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.

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.

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.

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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

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.