I got to the festival earlier than my writer, so I decided not to waste any time and headed over to the church to check out a band that another music writer recommended. I’m glad I took her suggestion. A little bit of folk … a little bit of blues … a touch of alternative rock … We Met Tomorrow had a solid set that sounded very, very polished. Their tunes were filled with catchy hooks that truly reeled me in (pun intended). They are from Sweden, but I wouldn’t have been able to tell because their English pronunciation was accent-less. For an early afternoon set, it was a terrific start to a long day of music.
“[…] The band is fronted by Lee Triffon on lead vocals and guitar and Adi Feher on keytar. Yes, keytar. Bonus points already earned. Approaching the microphone in full-body spandex jumpsuits and Wonder Woman meets Battlestar Galactica jewelry, they both fit the stereotype I have in my mind of a crazy-attractive (and/or crazy, attractive) Tel Aviv woman. The music was pretty intense shit. Heavy electronic pageantry with heavy breaks underpinning Triffon’s strong vocals. At times the whole thing was really hot. At others, it felt like an EDM version of Nora Dunn and Jan Hooks doing the Sweeney Sisters on SNL. Kinda rad but also kinda comical when they break into these eletro beat brown notes, ditch the instruments, face each other, and start gyrating and jerking around as if they were at some post-IDF Koh Phangang full moon beach party. Remember, the venue was the size of a walk-in closet. But that’s part of what’s so captivating about The Kokoro. They seem totally oblivious to the limitations of their surroundings […].”
“[…] She sounds good. Not pop. Channeling some Chrissie Hynde type of energy […] [T]his woman can belt it out. Talk about presence! Compared to all the falsetto twink 20-something little duders in skinny jeans who’d been on stage all night, she was a veritable lioness, a fine wine blending hints of Florence and the Machine with aromatic accents of The Bangles. And like Susannah Hoff, she may be a tiny lady but she’s gorgeous and one hell of a pro jock on the microphone. Like her or not, she was in full command of that room and it was no coincidence that she was the first performer of the evening to fill the church hall.”
“[…] This time there were a couple girls on stage, which was pretty rad. I’m always stoked to see some gender plurality in a band. A short-haired pixie on the bass and a tall lanky drink of water on rhythm guitar and keyboards. Really good energy. A fast driving beat anchored a quasi-grunge surf garage sound. The guy on lead guitar in his prison blues and beanie shared vocals with the girl on bass but her voice was a little mousy and was largely lost behind all the instruments. The guy sounded good (he might have been mic’d better) and was hitting some impressive falsetto notes […] I can’t deny that their set was a little sloppy but you found yourself rooting for them because even if you weren’t feeling it, you could tell that THEY were feeling it. They were obviously stoked to be on stage – any stage – and that’s how a band should bring it. Reckless abandon, no matter where they are. They even smiled a few times.
The set was dominated by an upbeat spacy twang that reflects the sort of trans-Atlantic surf guitar riffs that I’ve heard creep back into a lot of stuff I’m listening to. And I dig it […] Some of it was what the band self-glossed as “funky”. Not sure what their definition of funk is. I definitely was not feeling a lot of James Brown or Bootsy Collins in what were fairly aimless walls of noise and distortion […] Potential trumps refinement.”
THOUGHTS:For a new band, booking venues to play a gig is a hell of a task. I learned that recently when I tried helping a friend’s band out.
A few months ago, the drummer of a band I’m really into (Hopeless Jack and the Handsome Devil) let me know that he played in another band that was setting up a regional tour. The name of the band was Machine, a power duo consisting of Pete Thomas on Drums and Madeline Mahrie on vocals and keys. Though they are just a duo (like Hopeless Jack and the Handsome Devil), their sound is lush and mysterious. If you could make a music-baby from the genes of Fiona Apple and Tori Amos, you may get something like Machine.
Being the naive optimist that I am, I told him that I thought I could help them find a place to play in Los Angeles. After weeks of looking, though I had the notion before, I fully realized that money talks, and when you don’t have the cash (or can’t guarantee patrons – even on a Wednesday), you don’t get the stage. Thankfully, I was able to find them a place to play (Thanks, Rob, I owe you a Jack … or two).
Pete and Madeline played for a small crowd, but played like they were playing for their lives. Even in front of a modest crowd, Madeline poured her soul out as she pounded away at her keys (a REAL portable piano, the first I’d ever seen). Because of the venue’s architecture (glass windows all around, which amplifies and the natural sound of the room), Pete had to reign in the amount of force with which he could bash his drums, but that controlled aggression came through, at least to me, in the performance, adding an even more intense depth to the music.
Madeline’s performance was a revelation. While watching her perform, I could only think to myself, “There should really be more people here to watch this music come to life.” There’s an audience for her music and I wanted so badly for more people to witness it. I wasn’t the only one impressed wight he performance. In fact, a woman who books events ended up exchanging contact information with the band with the hopes of booking them for a “Superbowl” event next year. See … I’m not the only one who loved their sound.
Take a peek at some of the video clips that I snipped together below. The lighting makes it difficult to see the performance, but it doesn’t matter. Just listen.
VIDEO:
PHOTOS: I used my 50mm prime lens, set my aperture to 1.4 and adjusted my ISO to the highest it would go on my camera. I’m realizing that I need a better camera for these situations. The photos didn’t come out nearly as well as I would have liked, and, heaven forbid, I converted a couple photos to black and white (something that I am not that fond of doing). Oh well … just more impetus for me to catch them again the next time they are in Los Angeles. Hopefully, by then they’ll have a venue with better lighting …. or I’ll have purchased a new camera. We’ll see.
THOUGHTS: While I was still in Law School, I worked part-time at a law firm that represented a band called Cavil At Rest. I was high on their music, and felt that they had a unique sound that set them apart from other up and coming bands. When they released their first full length album as Local Natives, they performed at Coachella to support it. Since I had one of their Cavil At Rest shirts, I brought it too the music festival in the off chance that I’d bump into them. As fate would have it, they did a autograph signing session and I presented the shirt to them to get signed. They were taken aback with the shirt, and thought it was pretty cool. Flash forward to the present day, and they were closing a festival of their own. It was a killer set of their most popular songs, and it was a pleasure seeing them rock the stage like I knew they would. As an added bonus, they even had Moses Sumney join them on stage to sing a cover of Little Dragon’s “After The Rain”.
SETLIST:
PHOTOS: I had a tough time snapping quality pictures of Local Natives set. I just never seemed to hit the right lighting with my shots, but a few of them came out ok. Hope you enjoy them.
A few weeks ago, I was sitting in a club with a friend and we were talking about bad ass bands, and the name Rival Sons came up. I had never heard of the band previously, so I had I a lot of questions. Where are they from? What kind of music do they play? How many albums have they released? The only I answer I got?
“Dude. Just check them out. They will blow your mind.”
Considering that my friend plays in a bad ass band as well, I didn’t take the blunt statement of approval lightly. I surfed the web the following day and started doing some “research”. My friend was right. My mind was blown.
I really got into rock and roll when I purchased my first Led Zeppilin album, “House of the Holy”. I must have played that CD a hundred times during my four years of college. It shaped the way I listen to music, and has since shaped my sensibilities. Needless to say, I’m a pretty big fan of classic rock.
Rival Sons are classic rock revivalists, and they are, quite simply, bad ass. They’ve been releasing records since 2009 with 4 studio albums under their belt, and I’ve been kicking myself in the ass for not having heard of them until recently. The fact that they are based out of Long Beach, California and I hadn’t heard of them until now? Yes … shame on me.
I wanted to see them at The Troubadour, but that show had sold out. Though I hardly ever travel outside my comfort zone (Los Angeles) to see bands play, they were embarking on a world tour that’ll basically run through till the end of the year, and I knew that I couldn’t wait until next year to see them perform live. So I sucked up the prospect of an hour long commute, and made my way to a new venue in a foreign territory: The Observatory in Orange County.
Thankfully, I had company for the trek, but when I got to the Observatory, I found it to be quite a terrific venue. It was set up so that there was a pretty decent view from anywhere in the audience (unless you had an extremely tall patron in front of you). It wasn’t overpacked and the crowd, at least for this show, was extremely friendly. Enough with the venue … let’s get to the music.
In my opinion, they’ve got everything a killer band needs. A charismatic frontman with killer pipes? Jay Buchanan has it in spades. A bad ass guitar player? Scott Holiday and his Dali-esque mustache looked and played as badass as it gets. Dave Beste (bass) and Mike Miley (drums) complete the music puzzle capturing a huge, guitar-driven classic rock sound that many try to copy, but fail to achieve. These guys nail it.
These guys nail it, but they aren’t imitators. They take the music that’s influenced them, and create a fresh, rocking sound that, though revivalist, is current and edgy. God damn, it was good. I guess I’ll have to wait until next year to catch them live again. It’s a good thing I’m a patient man. I just hope that the LPs I purchased don’t get worn out before they get back into town.
Charles Bradley loves everybody. Charles Bradley loves you. Charles Bradley loves me. And you know what? I love Charles Bradley. I love his spirit. I love his passion. I love his music. I won’t wax poetic about how much I his music moves my soul (I’ve already done that here and here), but I will say that if anybody is the “Soul of America” incarnate, it’s that man. Mr. Charles Bradley.
After he closed the Twilight Concert Series with a rousing performance of “Why Is It So Hard”, I went backstage with the hopes of getting him to sign a copy of a limited edition LP I had in my collection. As luck would have it, he was greeting some fans after his so I made my way towards him and asked him if he would do me the honor of signing my album.
His eyes widened with a sparkle of surprise and he exclaimed, “Even I haven’t seen this record!” I went on to tell him how I first saw him at FYF and also shot him at The Fonda, and he asked me for my name, proclaiming that he would try not to forget it. With nothing left to say, I simply said, “I love you, Mr Bradley,” reaching my hand out for a hand shake. He pulled me in for a hug, wrapping me in his arms and said, “I love you too, Derrick. Thank you.”
Getting a hug from the The Soul of America? No better way to end a concert series. Thank you Mr. Bradley. I can’t wait to hear what music you’ve got coming for us fans next.
I love New Orleans. I love its people. I love its food. I love its music. God damn, how I love its music. Blues, jazz, funk, dixieland … New Orleans has it all. On September 11, 2014, a bit of New Orleans came to the Santa Monica Pier.
King James & The Special Men is a rhythm and blues band that embodies the New Orleans spirit. Their raw, gritty, soulful music reminded me of the crazy, fun, nights I’ve had trolling Bourbon Street, drunk off my butt, wandering into the random, local venue that had live music spilling into the street.
Playing both covers and originals, King James and his Special Men played music that evoked memories of that one time my friends and me spent an evening at Mother-In-Laws when it was hosted by the charming Miss Antoinette (R.I.P.). As it turns it out, he was a regular player there, playing for nothing “but free drinks and big ol’ sack of Miss Antoinette K-Doe’s red beans and rice”.
When I heard that Elvis Costello was performing at the Hollywood Bowl with the Los Angeles Philharmonic, I was jealous. Bills had to be paid, among other expenses I committed too, and I made the economical, yet regretful, decision not to spend my money on tickets.
Fate seemed to be tempting my spending urges when it was announced that another date had been added to accommodate the demand for tickets. Still strapped for cash, I tried my best to avoid all email ticket alerts and social medial notices to remind me of my regretful frugality. Flash forward to a week before the concert and a close friend of mine … out of the blue … asked me if I wanted to be her guest to the second concert … for free. Apparently, fate likes to play games with me. Either that, or Karma saw fit to reward my dedication to music.
I have a storied and emotional connection with Elvis Costello’s music. Back in college, I purchased my first Elvis Costello CD. It was a greatest hits album of his work with The Attractions. After my first listen, I was hooked. “Pump It Up”, “Radio Radio”, “Accidents Will Happen”, “Man Out Of Time” … with 21 stellar cuts, it’s definitely on my list of best CDs I purchased in college.
The first track of that album, “Alison”, ended up being a song that I played on repeat after my college sweetheart broke my heart. Though I’m still not sure whether that song was particularly apropos to having a broken heart, the lyrics have always made me get misty eyed.
“I’m not going to get too sentimental like those other sticky valentines, ‘cause I don’t know if you’ve been loving somebody. I only know it isn’t mine.” …. <sniff sniff> …
Elvis was also responsible for one my greatest working experiences ever. After passing the bar exam, I was working in a small boutique law firm. We represented a production company that was producing a live-to-tape concert series for VH1 classics named “Decades Rock Live”, an hour long program that featured a legacy artist who was then paired with modern day recording artists to perform each other’s songs. One of the artists we featured was Elvis Costello, and he had requested to work with Fiona Apple, Billie Joe Armstrong and Death Cab for Cutie.
Though I had spent virtually all of my time behind the computer and phone at my desk, in the office, to negotiate and draft agreements, I was asked to go on location (The Trump Taj Mahal) for the taping of that episode to handle production matters. It was an experience that reshaped my opinion of the work that I was doing. Being in thick of it all, watching how the episode got taped, watching the artists figure out creative logistics and watching their genius bloom on stage, was n0t only eye-opening but extremely soul-satisfying. Being able to attend the after concert party was pretty cool too.
To be able to see Elvis at the Hollywood Bowl, along side the Los Angeles Philharmonic, was amazing. I’ve always know that Elvis was musical genius. To see his work performed with orchestral arrangements was … to put it simply … sublime.
In between songs, he threw in stories about the meaning of the works he about to perform. He told us about how “Accidents Will Happen” was written on the way to Mexico, how “Veronica” was written about his grandmother who suffered from Alzheimer’s, how he wrote “Shipbuilding” (a song about giving jobs to veterans after wars) 30 years ago and Chet Baker playing on the original recording.
The most poignant moments of the concert, for me at least, occurred at the end. He closed his set with a heart-tugging rendition of Burt Bacharach’s power-ballad “God Give Me Strength”. He left the stage, but I knew that he would be called upon to perform an encore.
He prefaced the encore by thanking Linda Ronstat for covering the song on her debut album; thankful that he was able to earn enough money with the song to keep his music career going. Then he performed “Alison”.
I sat back on the Hollywood Bowl bench and let it his performance consume me. I wasn’t reminiscing about anything in particular. I was focused on the music. On the arrangement. Then I notice that the arm holding my camera was slightly trembling. The next thing I knew, my vision got blurry.
It doesn’t happen very often, but a performance moved me to shed a tear. I wasn’t anticipating it. It just happened … but you know what? Beautiful music … It can do that to a grown man.
Ben Folds opened for Elvis. I got into Ben Folds’ music when a member of my a cappella group arrange a Ben Folds Five song, “Evaporated”, for our group to sing. Like Elvis, Ben Folds’ musical knowledge far superior than the norm.
During his set, he took the time to emphasize the importance of symphony orchestras, joking that, “some towns have symphony orchestras, and some don’t … and the ones that don’t suck.” He also acknowledged the problem with the music industry today, indicating before the performance of a piano concerto he wrote, that he was only able to create his work with the help of a generous corporate sponsorship with Acura, and how a record label in today’s economic landscape would have never given him the resources to create what he did.
I was hoping he was going to perform “Kate” (my favorite Ben Folds Five song) with the orchestra, but I can’t complain. His performance was superb.
I was obviously wasn’t approved for a photo pass for this concert, but I hope that you can get an idea of the concert with the pictures I was able to snap with my small Sony point and shoot.
#DKLPHOTOS 