Results tagged “concertreview”

You'd be forgiven for thinking that the Real Estate/Girls show Tuesday night at the Black Cat was an extended tribute to The Clean, an open-mic homage to the under-known but influential Kiwi punk band. Hell, the show might have been a two-set-long cover act, the way both bands indulge in heavy chorus pedal and simple chord progressions and fancy-free songs about summer love. You'd certainly be in your right mind to be excited by a show with so much surf-punk. How could Girls go wrong?

             

On paper, a Lenny Kravitz show on the heels of the 20th anniversary re-release of his debut album, Let Love Rule, is an intriguing prospect. Add in a setlist that has but one song released after the year 2000 and I'm downright excited. So why was Tuesday's show at the Warner Theater a bit of a dud? Pacing, mostly. Kravitz managed just 13 songs in a two hour span in a set that started and finished strong but veered eerily into "Jazz Odyssey" territory in between.

              

The 9:30 Club was absolutely packed Wednesday night for the D.C. debut of Them Crooked Vultures, a recently-formed hard-rock “supergroup” featuring Dave Grohl of Nirvana and Foo Fighters fame, Queens of the Stone Age frontman Josh Homme, and multi-instrumentalist John Paul Jones, who formerly played bass in a little band called Led Zeppelin. Joined by touring guitarist Alain Johannes, the high-profile trio treated the crowd to an impressive 90-minute set, more than justifying the hype that made this one of the most highly-anticipated shows of the year.

Written by DCist contributor Daniel White

              

When the Dodos last visited D.C., we were so impressed that we had considerable difficulties keeping our excitement down to one paragraph. The group's youthful exuberance was just barely outmatched by their technical skills, and they excelled at making surprisingly full-bodied sounds using primarily drums and guitar. But their flourishes with additional instruments (trumpet, vibraphone, extra percussion) pushed were what pushed that set over the edge, providing an accurate mirror to last year's excellent Visiter.

            

"We've got new songs, we've got old songs, we've got songs we can hardly play!"

              

Six nights of noise came to an end at the Black Cat on Sunday night, with a fistful of performances that ranged from highly anticipated to incredibly obscure, at volume levels from a low buzz to a constant stream of noise.

              

In person, the Yeah Yeah Yeahs’ ferocious sound doesn’t differ enough from that of their three fine full-lengths and innumerable EPs to make a live album a necessity. But if they decided to cash in with one, I’d buy it just for frontwoman Karen O’s stage banter, which, through sparse, has the advantage of sounding like it’s being translated from Japanese.

To listen to the self-titled song from Philadelphia's Free Energy, a breezy surf-ready tune about being young and alive, it would be easy to think that their Black Cat show should be filled with a couple dozen teenagers. Instead, the audience was populated with the people who Free Energy producer, James Murphy, has referred to as "all out of escapes" on the last LCD Soundsystem album. Not an X'ed hand in sight.

         

Having to find a last minute replacement bassist is usually not the secret to putting on a phenomenal show. When that bassist is from your band's original lineup, however, it's a recipe for celebratory nostalgia.

Bat For Lashes certainly know how to set a mood. If the wolf howling in front of a full moon draped behind them on the 9:30 Club stage Saturday night didn't give away their intentions to create a mystical night, the glitter, lights and feathers adorning the stage (and lead singer Natasha Khan) pushed the point home. And that was before Khan even opened her mouth. Her ethereal, chilling voice rung clear through the venue for opener "Glass," instantly ending chatter and leaving the audience wide-eyed.

            

Before starting their set at the Rock and Roll Hotel on Tuesday night, the members of Akron/Family taped up a torn American flag with a blue and white tie-dyed square in the upper left hand corner. This flag, which adorns the cover of Akron/Family's latest release, Set 'Em Wild, Set 'Em Free, might initially give the impression that the band are followers of the Book of Phish and that album title, a mantra torn from one of those pages. And Akron/Family certainly projects a communal atmosphere and engages in some extended improvisations. But the sheer expanse of their stylistic range keeps them from being pigeonholed as a "jam band." They're far more interesting.

Editor’s Note: We realize this show wasn't in, or really anywhere near, D.C. But as it was My Bloody Valentine's only show anywhere in the Mid-Atlantic region, and lots of D.C. area folks traveled down for the show, we thought we'd share the experience for those who, sadly, couldn't make it.

              

Written by DCist Contributor Matthew Siblo

              

Just like the biggest summer movie blockbusters tend to be mindless affairs full of car chases and loud explosions, summer concerts are sometimes best enjoyed with big, dumb rock songs being played at high volume with thousands of people singing along. That was certainly the case last night as Stone Temple Pilots closed out their short July tour under the stars at Merriweather Post Pavilion. The crowd was far from a sell out, likely owing to the band's appearance at last year's Virgin Festival, but what those in attendance lacked in numbers they made up for in volume and sheer fanaticism.

I came to Wreckless Eric and Amy Rigby - the husband/wife rock troubadour duo who played the Black Cat backstage Wednesday night - separately, in very different ways. I caught Rigby as a surprise opening act for Steve Earle at an old theater in my hometown more than half a decade ago in a performance so witty and funny that it inspired my dad's band to go out and record one of her tunes, the sly “Keep It To Yourself.” Meanwhile, English punk-rocker Wreckless Eric (born Eric Goulden) had a minor hit, “Whole Wide World”, that was reverently covered by the beloved, now-defunct Philly band The Bigger Lovers and received some minor notoriety in power-pop circles.

              

Another year, and another "Rock The Bells" went off at Merriweather Post Pavilion over the weekend.

      

East Vancouver’s latest buzzed about export, Japandroids, were determined to have a good time in D.C. The first (and second and fifth, etc.) thing they said to the audience was how much their short set in Philly had sucked the night before and how tonight they were determined to play better and play for longer.

     

The rock fans who wanted to spend their Father's Day dancing and covered with obscene amounts of sweat probably went to the Phoenix show at Rock and Roll Hotel. But while the fantastic Frenchmen went straight for the audience's dancing feet and raised hands, the morose Scots of Camera Obscura took a different approach to connecting with their audience, going for their heartstrings and tear ducts.

       

To start, this was a record-breaking show. First, for temperature. It was, bafflingly, the hottest show I've ever attended by far. And second, for decibels achieved, by both the band and the audience.

    

It's not often that, on your way into a punk rock show, you have to carefully skirt around the band members, for fear of interrupting their ping-pong match. Or that, while waiting for the bands to finish setting up, you join a roomful of families in a rendition of "Happy Birthday," directed at a beaming girl seated in front of an ice cream sundae. Then again, Comet Ping Pong, the noted upper Northwest pizza parlor/ping pong establishment, isn't your average venue. Recalling both the DIY ethos and multitasking charm of Chicago's storied Fireside Bowl, Comet turns out to be the ideal venue for a band like Mika Miko, who are known as much for their involvement with L.A. all-ages performance space The Smell as their back-to-basics take on three-chord punk rock.

Her music is a hodgepodge of styles (rap, ska, reggae, rock, electro, dub), and last night the 9:30 Club was treated to the whole Santogold smorgasbord. In addition to many of the cuts from her eponymous album, Santogold (aka Santi White) found time to cover The Cure and Spank Rock and sing the loop from "Shove It" over and over, which Jay-Z used for his track, "Brooklyn (We Go Hard)". Toss in a few guest appearances by the openers (the half-naked Amanda Blank and mumbler Trouble Andrew), stir in some android backup singers/dancers (who were awesome, by the way), gold-accented costumes, an audience member dance competition on stage and ... you get the idea. And, as if we weren't overwhelmed enough by all the visual and audio stimulation, we had to ponder her recent decision to change her name from Santogold to , a small, but essential distinction.

I used to belong to a small and ever-shrinking group of casual Passion Pit fans who think that while their music has merit and hooks galore, there is something about singer Michael Angelakos' voice that is untenable. The Beach Boys are the go-to reference for any band that employs a significant amount of male falsetto, and theirs was an effortless compliment to, and focal point of, that dreamy pop. But Angelakos, on the other hand, sings in a Pterodactyl shriek of a falsetto that was initially so distracting to me that I wrote the band off completely. But last night at Blackcat, I changed my mind. Wrapped in the booming bass and twinkling keys of his band-mates, Angelakos' voice was less shrill and, dare I say, an integral part of a really fun show. I would now simply say, "I'm a fan."

         

At the end of 2007, one of the blogosphere’s more ubiquitous concertgoers named Grizzly Bear his number one show of the year. Initially, this announcement prompted me to kick myself for using that particular set as a bathroom/lunch break at that year's Pitchfork Festival. However, as time passed, I started to question his judgment. Grizzly Bear’s breakout 2006 release, Yellow House‘s combination of stunning harmonies and instrumentation and tedious meandering makes it a difficult album to complete in one listening, and this year’s highly lauded Veckatimest seems like it would make the perfect soundtrack to the poppies scene in The Wizard of Oz. There’s a sense of enchantment, ethereal choral harmonies and a sinister undertone, but it’s also highly conducive to putting the listener to sleep. As such, I kept waiting for the moment during Grizzly Bear’s set where the show would lose my interest.

              

Bruce Springsteen is still Working on a Theme.

       

Sometimes bands build up their audience’s energy over the course of a set, but The Thermals had no interest in easing anyone in on Wednesday night at the Black Cat. After a jovial hello from singer/guitarist Hutch Harris, the Portland trio began their hour long set with 2006 standout “Return to the Fold” inspiring a loud, audience-wide sing-a-long. The rest of the show followed suit as Harris, bassist Kathy Foster and drummer Westin Glass gave a filler-free jaunt through their catalog, while the audience did their best to mirror the band's energy and enthusiasm.

      

The mood was quite different the last time I saw Animal Collective. It was the summer of 2004, and the band had just released their breakthrough LP, Sung Tongs. Of the 100 or so folks who showed up to see the band play in the basement of a university building that night, I would wager that most, if not all of them had heard Sung Tongs and were eager to see how the songs would be rendered live. The members of Animal Collective, however, had their own plans. In what has since become a hallmark of Animal Collective's live sets, the band decided to eschew album tracks in favor of a series of works in progress, most of which took the form of protracted, improvised drone experiments. This, of course, made the crowd anxious and the band, determined to stand their ground, reacted with contempt. The end result was a tense, confrontational vibe--it felt as if the band was playing against, rather than for the audience.

      

Thursday was a big night for indie rock, as Illinois were at DC9 while Peelander-Z played at The Red and the Black, which might explain the small turnout at the Black Cat for The Dears, Great Northern, and Eulogies. It was a shame, as all three bands put on good sets.

       

The adjective "icy" gets thrown around a lot by critics when discussing the Junior Boys. You've got to admit, it's a pretty apt descriptor. Not only are the 'Boys Canadian, they also craft electro-pop songs that belie their very human obsessions with a cold, near robotic precision. Increasingly, however, the duo has tended toward looser, more organic arrangements, while allowing their lyrics to take on a slinky, almost sinister edge. On their latest full-length, Begone Dull Care, Jeremy Greenspan's vocals are hushed yet breathy, the production lush yet meticulous. Where once the Junior Boys were "icy," it now seems that they've "thawed"--to borrow the critical descriptor du jour.

         

If I were a scientist - which I'm not, for the record - my life's work would be spent studying the direct correlation between energy and happiness radiating from any particular stage, and the audience's perception of the show taking place. I'd cite specific examples from venues both large and small, but one case in particular would surely land me a Nobel nomination (for which category, I'm not sure).