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Archive for the ‘Music – Live Testimony’ Category

Using Game Theory against Dew-Flavored Kool-Aid

Friday, September 15th, 2006

The RootsLast Friday, my friend Dennis took me down to the parking lot of the HP Pavilion to check out The Roots. Actually, that’s not quite right. It was the Dew Action Sports Tour, featuring The Roots playing out back after all the BMX jumping was over. I’d never been to one of these action sports thingies, so I was curious to see what I’d find there. Apparently ?uestlove and company were in the same boat; The Roots’ official page on MySpace didn’t bother list this gig in their Upcoming Shows. And right there that was a big Hmmmmm. Was this something they weren’t particularly proud of?

Every last square inch of the parking lot was branded. There was no entertainment that didn’t have a logo on it, ranging from the obvious (Schwinn) to the ominous (Toyota Land Cruisers) to the downright bizarre (an inflatable jumpie — brought to you by US Air Force recruiters). There was nothing in the least edgy about this set-up, even though it was sold as the theoretical edge of American youth culture. Hardly anybody was drunk or otherwise messed-up. Having missed Burning Man the week before, I could only think that somehow I’d fallen into its evil doppelganger.

After the extremely loud BMX event ended, we were herded off into another corner of the lot to face a stage and a huge branded TV screen. After a few moments, opener Dilated Peoples appeared. Featuring a white guy, an dreaded Afro-American guy and an Asian-American DJ, the Peoples gave the impression that if they did not already exist, they would have been invented by a Dew Action Sports marketer for just such an occasion. With songs that stayed relentlessly on the positive tip, the crowd loved them, but I thought they were bland at gest. It didn’t help that that the DJ totally blew his obligatory spotlight scratching and then blamed it on the wind. They also made the opening act cardinal sin of running overtime, which seems particularly egregious for a hip-hop group that really should know exactly the length of every song they play. Song lengths aren’t going to vary performed in front of a programmed beat track.

After a brief delay, The Roots tookthe stage, all business, no chattiness. Opening with “Here I Come” off super-dope new album Game Theory, The Roots did not stop for their entire 50-minute set. They were tight, charismatic and entertaining, and are touring behind their strongest album in several years. But it was just too weird to hear these songs in this place.

Dew Action SportsI guess I have to give credit to The Roots for seizing the opportunity to go where the money and the audience are. This was the second time I’d seen them at a presumably poorly-paying festival situation, the first being when they played the “Other Stage” at Moby’s tour several years ago. (Remember Moby, anyone?) Nevertheless, it was surprising to see them doing their conscious-hip-hop-meets-The-Meters thing surrounded by logos and product placement and more logos. And they certainly got their message out to a diverse audience of kids in an environment that was non-threatening (if you find conspicuous consumption non-threatening). But if this is the future of concert-going — and mass-market entertainment in general — something has been lost. It’s not news that major music label artists are no longer counter-cultural, but until recently at least they tried to pretend.

But the kids at the show, many with their parents, did get to see a great live band doing edgy material in a safe, sober place — and that you can’t fault. Will they know quality & authenticity when they see it or does the uber-marekting context ultimately defeat it?

MP3: The Roots – Here I Come

The Onion AV Club interviews ?uestlove
Metacritic: Everybody Loves Game Theory (except the NYT)

World Cup Detour #3: How To Beat Brazil

Tuesday, August 22nd, 2006

Yes, I really am still writing about the World Cup. And, no, that does not mean that all four of you Entroporium fans are going to need to wait another four years before I start posting regularly again.

Sunday, June 18th was a glorious San Francisco summer day with nary a wisp of fog in sight, the perfect opening day for the city’s traditional free Stern Grove concert series. We showed up at 8am to grab prime seats, but the real action that morning was taking place in random bars around town as Brazil took the pitch against Australia. After the match ended, a workmanlike dismantling of the Socceroos, the Brazilian fans — and where did they all come from! who knew SF was so full of Brazilians! — made their way to the Grove to hear opening act Seu Jorge.

Yes, it was kismet. Brazil ruled the day. A glorious victory. A glorious day. Free outdoor Brazilian party music. The stars were aligned with that strange planet thing in the middle of Brazil’s weird flag. The Grove was rockin’, chock-full of sunning dancing Brazilian expats and their newfound empathizers.

But now it was time for the headliner. And Aimee Mann took the stage with nothing but an acoustic guitar and a bass player.

Don’t get me wrong. I love Aimee Mann and she was the reason I was there, but this was a bizarre piece of booking by the Stern Grove folks.

Picture if you will the party that’s come before. And then Aimee took the stage:

Sa-aaaave Me
C’mon and Saaa-ya-ave Meeee

If it was a room, the air would’ve gone right out of it. All of the boisterous Brazilians looked utterly lost and defeated, like the hangover had hit 12 hours earlier than expected. Nobody could believe what they were hearing or seeing. Who was that skinny lady singing morose ballads? What happened to our party?

And from this incident, I surmised that Brazil may not be the unstoppable World Cup force that it’s reputation led us to believe. Just slow the tempo. Add a French model and a PlayStation. Voilà!

[Soundtrack]
Seu Jorge – Life On Mars
A whole lotta Aimee Mann MP3 blog links

Saw A Band! I Saw A Band!

Thursday, May 11th, 2006

Last Monday, I was taken for my birthday to see Art Brut at Great American Music Hall. I have to admit that I had pretty low expectations; the wave of newfangled post-punk bands is starting to leave me cold, it was Monday for pete’s sake; the place was about 1/3 sold. (Seems that they had just been in town in March. Even more cruelly, they had been in Coachella at midnight Sunday, then had a gig in San Diego on Tuesday. Nice work, booking agent!)

Boy, was I pleasantly surprised. While Pitchfork thinks their live show is like “Hives crossed with Monty Python,” I’m going to dissent and go with Steve Coogan fronting The Damned, because they were funnier and had better songs than that (or perhaps more succinctly, had songs). It makes you want to rock out and it’s pretty darn joyous to boot.

If you’re idea of a good time involves pop-perfect 2-minute songs, stage patter, impromptu visits to the audience and BBC sitcoms, you can still catch Art Brut as they make their way across the US. If you are already on the Art Brut tip, they are playing many new as-yet-unrecorded songs — all at the same quality level as the, um, classic material — so it’s still worth revisiting their live act. Check their MySpace page for gig info.

Speaking of funny punks, I saw a Yellowcard video this morning as I was waiting for the hair-straightening to end — and do I believe my eyes and ears, but is this a so-called punk band with a VIOLIN PLAYER??? Yes, I’m afraid it is. I’m not usually this closed-minded, but this is so very not rock and roll. Yellowcard, the Dave Matthews Band of alleged alternative music.

[Soundtrack]
I’m not up for posting MP3s right now, but the three tracks posted at MySpace should suffice. “Formed A Band” is required listening for those that still think that punk should be funny.

Art Brut’s “Emily Kane” video

White Stripes Take A Dive, Death Cab Ascends

Sunday, December 11th, 2005

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Photo: Kevork Djansezian/AP

The Peel Box – the one that I promised to sample out and then didn’t post for a month – has a slew of White Stripes material. I’ve always taken them somewhat for granted and I’ll just come right out and say that the Get Behind Me Satan is a truly terrible record that will not stand the test of time. But via the Peel project, I’ve got a fresh appreciation for their early singles, which are forceful, funny and eccentric in all the right ways. Whatever you think of them, we should all be grateful for a band that is so refreshingly weird and finds it inspiration in ancient blues and punk. And despite all those strikes against them, The White Stripes are still popular in teenybopper America. An incredible and hope-creating triumph of marketing & smarts over the taste malaise of a nation.

Friday found Our Heroes in the unfriendly confines of San Francisco’s Bill Graham Civic Auditorium playing for the teenybopper crowd at Live 105′s Not So Silent Night. Coming off another big-selling album, a couple of hit singles, a first-time tour of Eastern Europe (where it’s hard to imagine they didn’t go over BIG) and victory lap around the New York late night talk show circuit, this night should have been an easy win for them. Stand up in front of the kids, show them how it’s done, play the hits, blow some minds with some Delta blues and Deeeetroit raunch. Instead, disaster ensued, leaving me and my friends wondering if we would ever see the Stripes together again.

Jack & Meg had the unenviable task of following Death Cab For Cutie, another band we’ve seen play umpteen times in good times & bad, in front of a crowd that hung on Ben Gibbard’s every word. DCFC played confidently and politely, running through most of this year’s desultory Plans while throwing in the odd chestnut from earlier indie-days records. Having followed their travails for a while, this is a band that truly seems to have arrived, full of confidence and with a big sound that occasionally (like a lot of the indie bands bursting through the airwaves) recalls U2. With their new fuller-produced sound, chestnuts like “Company Calls” sounded relatively compact and colorless. I’m not a big fan of Plans, but played live it did sound impressive and big, even in the cavernous echo-y Civic. Death Cab is not going away anytime soon.

One of my favorite things about seeing The White Stripes live is their road crew; it too is forced to wear the red, black and white motif as it putters about the stage set before the show. We were standing next to the soundboard, and even the soundman was in full regalia.

Another thing I like is that they are f***in’ loud! And on that count, they did not disappoint. After a long delay, Jack and Meg raced onstage and started slicing into their best-known material, like “Blue Orchid” and “Dead Leaves And The Dirty Ground.” It wasn’t their crowd – only a few people were wearing red & black – but goddamn if Jack wasn’t going to go for it.

But something was deeply, weirdly wrong with Meg. She was completely off time, playing the wrong parts at the wrong times, and was generally blowing it. It was so bad, this could have been a first rehearsal with her never having heard the songs before. My friends and I all looked at each other dumbstruck. Could this be for real? Meg will never win any drumming awards, and any fan will tell you that that’s not really her M.O. as part of the band, but this was preposterously sloppy.

Jack felt it, too. After a terrible “Hotel Yorba”-”Death Letter” medley, Jack went over to Meg and whispered something at her. From my vantage, it looked like he was pissed and telling her “I’ll do a few songs, you take a break.” And Meg left the stage. This was also weird, because we’ve seen The White Stripes probably five times and never seen her leave the stage when Jack takes his usual solo turn.

Jack ran through three songs on his own, seemed to realize something was horribly wrong and ran offstage. We knew something was up because they were only 15 minutes into a 60-minute set and the sound guy next to us was freaking out, cuing the iPod for the between-sets music and whispering frantically into his walkie-talkie.

After a 3-minute delay with the crowd becoming restless, Jack and Meg reappeared and tentatively ran through a few more songs before calling it a night. Was Meg messed up? Was she just having a bad night? Or was Jack playing loosely enough that she couldn’t follow? Granted this was probably a tough night for them to get motivated for – stuck playing a holiday radio showcase in a crap venue in front of a semi-caring teeny-bopper crowd – but this struck us long-time White Stripes fans as a really serious event and left us wondering if this could somehow be a harbinger for the end of the band.

[Soundtrack]
An early 7″ highlight from The White Stripes, direct from John Peel’s wooden box.
Plus a Death Cab song from the new album that I didn’t think they could play, yet they pulled off with aplomb. This song for me highlights all the best and worst things about Plans: a relatively unmemorably DCFC song, played and produced beautifully.
The White Stripes – Hand Springs (7″ version)
Death Cab For Cutie – Different Names For The Same Thing

UPDATE: I’m not the only one who noticed.
The Modern Age: What Happened to Meg White at the San Fran Show?

Leaving The Solar System!: MC5 at NorthSix, Brooklyn

Thursday, August 4th, 2005

Entroporium returns from vacation…

By almost no intention of our own, multiple lucky connections amplified by good timing, Susie and I saw MC5 last week at Brooklyn’s Northsix. The band was in town to perform, in their own words, “Kick Out The Jams for the first time, from beginning to end, in its entirety since the bad old days.” Replacing departed vocalist Rob Tyner was an impressive array of song stylists — Mark Arm (Mudhoney), Handsome Dick Manitoba (The Dictators) and Lisa Kekaula (Bellrays, Basement Jaxx) – while Gilby Clarke from Guns N Roses stood in for Fred ‘Sonic’ Smith.

And indeed they did kick out the jams (is there really any other way to say it?). The reconstituted DKT/MC5 slammed through the whole album, from the iconic title track (though without the spoken introduction) all the way through the cover of Sun Ra’s “Starship.” It was a storming rendition of one of the all-time great rock and roll albums, and it was treated with reverence and authority by the original performers. What more can you ask for?

In some ways, MC5 represented everything that’s overblown and hateful about 60′s rock. Let me count the ways: free jazz freakouts, excessive use & abuse of Louie Louie and blues scales, noodly high-octave soloing, references to the crowd and band as “Brothers & Sisters,” obligatory unhappiness about the current political situation, multiple attempts at breaking down The Fourth Wall between the crowd and the performers… but I have to admit, this was the Revolutionary 60′s shtick done to the 9′s. That awesome sound of guitars so loud that the music starts to feel like it’s coming apart – contemporary exemplars include Thurston Moore and Neil Young – mmm it was good.

The element that really made sealed the deal was the enthusiasm of the crowd, many of whom were from back in the day and clearly in heaven to be part of it again. Most of the punters sang along under its breath, while the 3-part singalong round of “Rocket Reducer No. 62 (Rama Lama Fa Fa Fa)” was the most complex piece of audience participation I’ve ever seen pulled off successfully. On different occasions, Mark Arm and Wayne Kramer roamed the crowd and they were treated with a reverence you never see at a typical stage-diving show. It was revolutionary, sure, but we can still respect each other! An important message for our impolitic era.

After Mark Arm’s screams sent the Starship “leaving … the … SOLAR …. SYSTEEEEEMMMMMM!,” the band took an intermission before it came back and ran through most of Back In The USA. Manitoba did his punk-wrestler act, Kekaula evangelized and, um, looked at us (as per the song), and Mark Arm did his cross-eyed crazy man routine to a T. Even without knowing that this was once one of the great bands, this was still a great night for my friends who were not familiar with the original material. Susie got her picture taken with Mark after the show and everybody agreed that it was a an all-time Top Ten show. Not bad for a spur of the moment lucky break on vacation!

Curiously this was not a sellout, possibly because MC5 was due to play the next day for free with Sun Ra Arkrestra and DJ Spooky in Central Park, but I’m betting that it also had something to do with the aftertasted of last year’s semi-disastrous Evan Dando tour. Nevertheless, the NorthSix management said that this was the most enervated & excited crowd that had ever come out to the club, which is pretty amazing given the roster of talent that’s come through there over the years. Brothers & Sisters!

[Testify!]
Jukebox Graduate was there, too, she’s got pictures of the show and she’s far more knowledgable about MC5 than I am
jukeboxgraduate.com: i wanna hear some revolution: return of the MC5

Pop Matters on Kick Out The Jams
: “With the exception of the Who’s Live at Leeds, no live recording has captured the primal elements of rock more than the MC5′s inaugural effort…”

Lil Mike has a brief history of MC5, some randy pictures and a few MP3s

MC5 – Kick Out The Jams.mp3

Sufjan Stevens at Great American Music Hall

Thursday, July 21st, 2005

I’m really honestly trying not to emulate one of those blogs that seem to feature Sufjan Stevens three times a week, but we saw him play the Great American Music Hall on Sunday night and sometimes these things can’t be helped, y’know?

I started the evening needing to dump an extra ticket. This was no problem as lots of folks were outside clamoring for that magic moment. Susie glommed on to a couple of nice looking young ladies – “Follow us to Edinburgh Castle. If our friend didn’t bring a date, his extra ticket is yours.” We learned along the walk that they were 18-years old (!) from Stockton (!!!) and neither had heard of Pitchfork nor MP3 blogs(??!!), but they loved Sufjan Stevens and jumped around like giddy schoolgirls when they realized they were getting our ticket. It’s pretty darn refreshing that ornate chamber pop has an avid audience of teenagers out there in a “middle of the country” area like Central California. Yes, I realize that Pavement and Grant Lee Buffalo come from there, but these acts still aren’t exactly approved for MTV or Clear Channel radio outlets.

With the crowd standing in riveted silence all night — which in itself was pretty amazing given the number of underage folks in the room — I may have been the only person in the room who was faintly disappointed (and only faintly, I should emphasize, before I go into my big semi-diatribe). The band struggled with some of the intricate songs – “Come On Feel The Illinoise!” was introduced by Sufjan as “the hard one” – and the mix was terrible, the bass and drums way too high and the ornamental percussion too low.

Since Stevens aspires to the compositional and aural complexity of Stereolab, Steve Reich or Stephen Sondheim, it may be worth his while to get a top-flight sound man and perhaps even a more accomplished band. I realize he’s just an indie fella and those guys don’t come cheap, but Stevens’ songs and performance really deserve the kick that this would give. A perfect example is the way that The Wondermints, Brian Wilson’s sidemen, have kicked his career into overdrive and allowed him to create and reproduce live some of his most ornate, formerly unperformable works.

So again I beg: Get this man a MacArthur Grant!

The other big mistake of the night was also economics-based, though this was a revenue shortfall rather than of a cost budgeting issue. I overheard a number of people lament that neither of the Illinois T-shirts featured onstage were available for sale. Sufjan, you’re leaving money on the table.

[Soundtrack]
Brian Wilson – Surf’s Up.mp3
Perhaps it’s not fair. How can I put Sufjan Stevens up against one of the great pop compositional achievements of the 20th century? Well, for one, I intend this as a high compliment – that Stevens can actually get here (and may be within shouting distance already). And let us not forget that Wilson was a mere 24 years old when he wrote and originally attempted to produce this track- and already had Pet Sounds and a few other indisputably great records under his belt. So it’s definitely possible for an indie artist to aspire to this.
But most of all what I’m trying to show here is what a difference it makes to have a truly professional experienced band and a top-notch sound person. Imagine Radiohead without the sonic excellence; it might just be the new clothes for the emperor.

Check out pictures and video from Sunday night’s show courtesy of Abir’s Concert Blog

The Big Country

Tuesday, July 5th, 2005

sufjan_stevens.jpg

Got any room on the bandwagon for me?

Up until four days ago, today was to be the official release date for Sufjan Stevens’ new opus, Come On Feel The Illinoise! It’s been moved off again for another month because of issues related to copyright – a touch ironic for an artist whose success will have much to do with MP3 bloggers, who in turn have their/our own issues with ‘Fair Use.’

For fear of joining the madness of the crowd on this one, I have to give Illinoise my absolute highest recommendation. Stevens, who says that he will do an album on every state, here shows that he may be up to actually pulling out the mammoth task he’s set for himself.

Stevens’ most remarkable achievement is to convincingly breathe life into what could be a stale Disney-fied concept, like an “It’s A Small World” ride for the 21st century. As a person who has spent less than a week in my life in Illinois, I feel confident that this album provides me with a kaleidoscopic vision of the real life and history of the state, not just some simplified pop history version. Stevens’ ability to do this probably stems from his background in Creative Writing, as the closest analogues I can think of are all novels; two that leap to mind are Russell Banks’ Cloudsplitter and Jeffrey Eugenides’ Middlesex. This isn’t some stereotypical portrayal of whining Cubs fans and closed stockyards; rather, Illinoise depicts a full breathing life of the mind of the state, both its historical undercurrents and modern day truth of its citizens’ lives.

Illinoise sees Stevens veering a little from his approach on 2003′s Welcome To Michigan, mostly because there was far more personal material available to him. It will be interesting to see if he’s able to keep his interest in the research and impersonality that this project will force him to keep up. And then there’s the material itself; it’s difficult to see how Stevens might get such complete works out of Wyoming or Vermont, while California, New York, Texas and Mississippi are such rich subjects that you could go on for years on each.

To make the 50 States Project happen, it will undoubtedly have to be the work of Stevens’ life. Can we get this man a MacArthur Fellowship so he doesn’t have to tour behind every record? If he’s able to keep this up, surely a Pulitzer is not out of bounds. I’m not kidding. This promises to be as major and important an American work as Angels In America or anything else you can think of.

Oh, and the music’s pretty great too. Blending pop dramatics, traditional American idioms – will he do zydeco for Louisiana and tejano for Texas? – with the rhythmic intricacy of Steve Reich & Stereolab, Illinoise is at its core a great listen, even at 75 minutes.

I can’t wait to see this as live performance later this month, and you shouldn’t miss it either if you believe in this project. Without any genius grants coming soon, let’s Save Our Sujfan!

[Soundtrack]
Sujfan Stevens – Come on! Feel the Illinoise! -Part I: The World’s Columbian Exposition -Part II: Carl Sandburg Visits Me in a Dream.mp3

Sufjan Stevens tour dates from Pollstar

Be sure to search NPR after July 6 to check out a new song,”The Lord God Bird.” NPR challenged Stevens to come up with a song on Brinkley, Arkansas based on a few phone calls to locals about the town’s history, and this will be the result.

Ralf Is Live

Thursday, June 30th, 2005

kraftwerk-the-robots-2004-11-10.jpg

Gang, we have to have a little talk. It’s about our beloved Kraftwerk. Yes, we all agree that they are the unchallenged leaders in the growth and acceptance of electronic music. I would take that further: that Kraftwerk were visionary about how we would come to use and accept technology as an essential, completely integrated part of our everyday lives. It’s hard to remember now, but when “Home Computer” was released in 1981, computers were still way out of anybody’s reasonable price range and required cassette tapes for data storage.

But I’m sick of the backhanded compliments for the live show. No, you object, you said you loved it. You gave strong reviews to the new live tour document, Minimum-Maximum. But you’re always slipping in something about “four guys standing around with laptops” or “what’s the point of a live performance by a band that’s just triggering their loops.”

Let’s start with what we mean by “Live.” I propose the following definition, as useful for a classical pianist as a drum circle as a guy with a laptop: A live musical performance is one in which the musician is 1) Performing music from a score or via improvisation; 2) Making conscious decisions about how the music is played as it is performed, and; 3) Injecting meaning through his/her actions, words demeanor and stagecraft.

With Kraftwerk, I don’t think anybody has any doubts about 1) or 3). It’s 2) that you might have a problem with.

My observation is that Kraftwerk does indeed make lots of decisions as the music is performed. I saw them last May at The Warfield, and even to say that they “are just standing there” is dishonest and wrongly dismissive. I stood at the very front towards Stage Right, just in front of Florian Schneider with a clear side view of the other three band members’ set-ups. Ralf Hutter has a MIDI controller that he uses frequently, playing the vast majority of the melodic parts. He also sings and is a might good dancer. The two fellows in the middle, newer members Henning Schmitz and Fritz Hilpert triggered bass lines and percussion. The one who does the bass lines had several foot pedals that emphasized and deemphasized different elements of the bottom tracks. And Florian … well, actually I’m not sure what Florian was doing. Everquest? Checking local maps for a bike ride tomorrow? He did cut some awkward dance moves during “Music Non Stop,” but otherwise your guess is as good as mine.

The cut from Minimum-Maximum I’m putting up today, “Neon Lights,” is a great demonstration of Kraftwerk’s musical ‘chops.’ Hutter sounds practically emotional, awestruck by the spectacle of a city lit up for the night. Above all, it sounds like he’s having fun, which is not something you can glean from any of Kraftwerk’s studio recordings post-Autobahn. There’s lots of interplay between the loops and lines; it’s closer to a group jamming than a simple triggering of a program. Most telling, it sounds like Hutter makes a mistake playing out the melody at the very end. Maybe the non-exactness is part of the art, programmed in to add humanity to the proceedings, but having seen how he operates on stage, I’m not buying it. It’s human error, right there in the middle of a Kraftwerk song. Given 30 years of dehumanization as an art form (in a good way!), that slip-up and its preservation by the artist who made it is worth noticing.

The song titles, which feature the city of the performance used on the album, are also a dead giveaway that there is something more going on here than pantomime with MIDI controller. If the guys in the band feel like the performances are different from city to city, we should take that seriously. We owe that to them as musicians. On the other hand, maybe it’s just another in a series of wry jokes going back through 30-plus years of recording and playing live.

[Soundtrack]
Kraftwerk – Neon Lights (London).mp3

Here is a great shot from above that gives a glimpse of each member’s on-stage set-up.

PS How come no enterprising computer company has gone and got the Kraftwerk product endorsement yet? What would Dell give to have had their name on their on-stage laptops? Thank goodness it hasn’t happened yet, really; every effort should be made to keep Kraftwerk from looking like a NASCAR team. Or maybe that’s next year’s joke. I was a little surprised to see that they were on PCs and not Macs, though.

PPS I concede that when the robots are on stage that that is not a live musical performance. Nice stagecraft, though.

60s + 70s = 86′d x 2

Friday, June 17th, 2005

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I’m proud of my Berkeley hometown and its radical and confusing heritage. I take pride in walking around San Francisco and pointing out countercultural landmarks like the Jefferson Airplane house and City Lights Books. I really don’t mind the Grateful Dead (American Beauty, anyway). But I’m also happy to keep these things in the past, free of grey hair and acid burnout.

Entroporium guest correspondent Holiday Darin reports in on what happened when some hippie also-rans recently played The Fillmore:

Daryl and Tom got me to go to see Hot Tuna Friday night. (I’m embarrassed just TYPING that band name. Ranks among the dumbest all time.) You know…I figured Jorma and Jack … two legends ……….. whatever. The first set was acoustic. I did all I could to remain upright holding out hope the second half would justify my attendance. It didn’t.

I drove everyone there so I couldn’t leave. I figured I could do a good, thorough tour of the Hall and its posters to kill time. Fatigue overcame me though, so I sat down. A woman woke me up suggesting I go with her outside for some fresh air as they don’t really like patrons sleeping at the Fillmore. After I got over my indignity (and momentary embarrassment), I realized she had a good idea. Fifteen minutes later, I gave (electric) Hot Tuna (f*cking “old-timey”, hippy blues…) another try. Boredom. This time I toured the downstairs. 15 or 20 minutes later, a man woke me as I leaned in a chair against a wall saying something about not being so wasted (I wasn’t…. I was bored!) and maybe I should follow him outside for some fresh air.

There you have it….asked to leave the Fillmore twice in one night. A first.

[Soundtrack - acid rock before it got all out of control]
Jefferson Airplane – Plastic Fantastic Lover.mp3

LCD Soundsystem and M.I.A. at The Fillmore

Monday, May 16th, 2005

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After starting the evening at a house with a wonderfully bizarre “Grandpa’s Lounge” pouring from an abundant supply of homemade absinthe (DANGER! DANGER!), my posse turned up at The Fillmore for the M.I.A / LCD Soundsystem indie festival. But disaster struck right away — we thought there was an opener, but there wasn’t… and we wound up missing M.I.A!!! So much for being on the forefront of today’s music. I’m too busy hangin’ out in Grandpa’s Undergound Clown Lounge to bring you the lowdown on today’s hottest artists.

So anyway, on to LCD Soundsystem. The band was sharp, tight and surprisingly loud. Singer and prime mover James Murphy shook a mean tambourine and provided all the charisma for a band that otherwise had pretty much none. LCD tore through versions of all their greatest hits (all four of them), playing them almost exactly as recorded (but louder). Everybody had a lot of fun, and a surprising number of people were tripping. There’s a whole sociologicial coolhunting exercise that I could do on that, but I think I’ll leave that for someone from Generation Z (or whatever y’all are calling yourselves these days) to suss out that hot potato. Help educate an old Jetta-driving, iPod-wearing indie-yuppie!

OK, but let’s get down to the nitty gritty here. This is a four-year old band. They were fun. The hit songs rule. But for all the time this band has been together, it was barely able to present an hour of its own material, filling out the show with three lengthy covers. Incredibly cool covers, yes; the redoubtable Mr. Murphy can be counted on for that; and for the record they were “Slowdive” by Siouxsie, “Jump Into The Fire” by Harry Nilsson and some Carl Craig song (does it matter which?) that didn’t work all that well.

The covers were a dead giveaway — I’ve got lots of inspiration, but not too many songs, here’s my inspiration, it rules, it’s hepper-than-thous. On the other hand, if you were expecting some obscure hepper-than-thou post-punk touch stone like a Lizzy Mercier-Descloux cover or somesuch, you were instead faced with the surprising choice of a rowdy funk-up by the man who put in the lime in the coconut or in the Coke-you-nut or wherever that lime was going. This cover was actually & exceptionally revealing of LCD’s DNA, showing that the post-punk funk can be traced back to a 1972 track by the “drunk guy who used to hang out with John Lennon.” (Harry was much better than that, but that’s what he’s stuck with.)

In sum, the show rocked, everybody had a good time, but by the time I got home I’d forgotten all about it. Or maybe I couldn’t hear it over the absinthe?

[Soundtrack]
Harry Nilsson – Jump Into The Fire.mp3
LCD Soundsystem – Beat Connection (from Epitonic)
Stream LCD Soundsystem’s debut album in its entirety

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