Tattoos and body piercing, chronic candy, painted breasts (no free photos people), choppers, free cigarettes and condoms, $6 water. This is Ozz Fest.
Make sure when attending to leave enough time (and money) to play in the Village of the Damned. Lots of fun stuff to do. Tattoos for the true hard core folks and body painting for the kiddies (or the exhibitionists). I totally loved the free condoms. Safe sex is a good thing and Trojan was there supporting the cause. One thing to take a little extra time (and leave a few bucks behind) to check out the Dimebag tribute. For those who haven't figured it out yet, I am still a huge Dime Mark. "A Guitar Art Tribute to Dimebag Darrell Abbott" was AMAZING. Paul Booth designed the sickest guitar I have ever seen. Truly amazing. Charlie Benante's was totally Dime and James Hetfield's was cheesy, but very cool.
My brain is still waking up. It is 8:30 AM and well it doesn't work well that early. I must say as well at the start that this show ran on a strict schedule and boy did they manage to not only stick to it, but gain speed as it went.
Second Stage, the proving grounds. The place where bands play for free to earn a chance to be the next big thing. The judges are harsher than Simon Cowell on a bad hair day. The judges will actually propel these bands to fame, or force them to be lost in the mix. One peice of advice from this judge, talk to the audience. No matter how cool it is to growl your intros, song titles, names, etc, it is much easier for someone to remember the spoken rather than the growled word.
BTW, while you see some pictures here, check the photo gallery for the full set.
We missed "seeing" The Red Chord and Strapping Young Lad. Both bands sounded pretty spiff from where we were, however due to the early hour and a slight delay with the arrival of our tix we didn't make it in at the start. The smaller acts played for approximately 20 minutes. While I didn't catch all the song titles, I have a few, most of which you can hear samples on their websites. Many of these bands were new to me, so this was a great place to sample and choose.
Finally got in to see what was happening in the middle of Between The Buried And Me. Heard two of their songs. There was some nice switching between the melodic and the guttural growls in the vocals. No song titles folks. That's what happens when you come late to the party.
Before I get into the next band, I just want to say that girls just fucking RULE! This next band proves it. Most of the bands were new to me and this was one of them. However I fully intend on catching up with this band. The band's name is Walls of Jericho and the girl's name is Candace Kucsulain and she rocks! In line for the first of my many $6 waters, I heard the band intro and then I heard the voice. I turned around and there was a little pixie of a girl RIPPING out of the gutter hard core demon voices. For years we heard us girls couldn't be hard core. We couldn't really LIKE the music. We just liked the guys (I always said it was an added benefit). She proves we are the music.
"Through the Eyes of a Dreamer" rocked. They closed with "A Little Piece of Me". Both songs are off their 2004 release All Hail the Dead. They have a new album out August 22 called With Devils Among Us, so expect a review.
The band that almost wasn't there, Full Blown Chaos, had a recent accident with their RV. It was totaled along with their trailer but with folks on the tour offering space to the band they have the chance to continue. Live Ray Mazzola, the singer, seemed to do the cookie monster growling, however he sounds much cleaner on recordings. Could be the road, the stress and all that shit. The double bass with this band is heavier than all hell. The song "Solemn Promise" is a touching tribute to Ray's mother and her struggles with cancer for the past ten years. Very heartfelt and dedicated to all those who have had struggles that try to bring them down. They closed with "Wake the Demons." Their new album titled Within The Grasp of Titans was just released on July 11. Check out some of their teasers on their My Space page. "Solemn Promise" is one of the teasers.
Bad Acid Trip describes themselves as "Energetic Bursts of Psychopathic Energy." They look like an old school straight edge band. Listening to them, I got the feel of definite Primus influences. A little bit funky, and whole lotta hardcore. Kinda like a carnival ride straight to hell. If you are getting the feeling that this was my new big find of the day you are very right. This is the kind of band I paid big money to find at Metal Fests back in the day.
A high energy band on stage, the props have got to go to vocalist Dirk Rogers for the most laughs earned. A true smart ass and someone who laughs his way through life (or so it seems) he holds the honor for the BEST quote of the day.
You can be straight edge, but you can still smile.
I'm still not sure this is the song title, but hell, its how he introduced the song. He dedicated it to all the posers out there and it was called "Please Don't Hurt Me." They also played a new song called "Black Metal."
Excitement was mounting! The on-stage changeover between Arch Enemy and Alice In Chains seemed to take forever. We waited with bated breath for the second time that day. The World Cup and England's first game in the tournament against Paraguay was about to kick off, at literally the same time as AIC. We hoped desperately that this wouldn't scare the band off in any way. It couldn't, we'd all waited for so long for this precious moment.
With only a 40-minute set, they knew they'd have to blow our minds, keep us distracted from the footie on the screens. I felt like a teenager again, never mind the other 70-odd thousand people there. I pushed myself as far forward to the front of stage as was humanly possible. Camera in one hand in hope of a glimpse of one of my heroes - Jerry Cantrell - and in the other my sister's hand, dragging her happily through the sweaty lager spilt crowd. Boiling hot sun on our heads and dust billowing around the field, did it matter? Nah mate, even my allergies wouldn't hold me back for this one.
And on they walked, the cheer was deafening. The first note was hit and I knew immediately it was “Man in a box.� I squinted around me quickly on my tiptoes, there were excited smiling faces all around. AIC had done it, they'd caught our attention and we weren't ever going to look away. They played their way through eight hit singles and our gaze never broke away from theirs. “We Die Young� came next and I knew everyone was thinking about Layne, RIP brother.
I felt like I'd written the set list, this is what I wanted to hear. During “Them Bones,� I caught my mate's eyes for a moment, Marek, he looked mesmerized, he threw me back a knowing look. Yes, this is what he'd asked for too.
Jerry and Mike Inez were all over the stage like a cheap suit, and William found himself in the midst of the crowd, singing to them with his beautiful voice. I tried desperately to grab some shots of the band, difficult when there are thousands of heads in the way and metal hands in the air. I could hear Naz, my sister's voice, at least she was in tune unlike the couple behind me. “Down in a hole� I heard her chorus. This is just too good to be true, “What amazing musicians,� I kept repeating to anyone who cared to listen.
I could have cried when they finished with “Would?�. Those metallers’ voices must have carried for miles, free for all karaoke. Wonderful! My heart belongs to AIC once again. Come back to the UK soon boys, we'll miss ya.
Set list:
Man In The Box
We Die Young
Them Bones
Down In A Hole
Again
No Excuses
Rooster
Would?
“My stern gland needs greasing!� I said as Vic sat down next to us. Her eyes rolled as she realized that she would need to explain the remark to the rest of our clueless group.
“It’s his boat!� she said. “He needs some work done on his boat.�
Vic’s fella Andy used to work in a boatyard and was the ideal person to sort out my stern gland issues. I was hoping he would be at the party too but apparently he was away on tour.
“Who with?� I asked.
“Kate Rusby,� she replied, waiting for me to admit that I had never heard of her.
“Never heard of her,� I said.
“Folk music mate, not your thing,� she scolded.
“Hey, I have an eclectic musical taste I’ll have you know!� I retorted.
“Turin Brakes and a Mozart box set do not make an eclectic musical taste,� said Vic.
She had a point.
As it turned out Kate Rusby would be appearing on my doorstep at the end of that very week, at The Alban Arena in St Albans. After a couple of phone calls back and forth the deal was sealed. Not only would Andy come to my aid on the boat, but I could go to the gig with him that evening. It would be rude not to do a review at the same time.
Typing her name into Google I was feeling lucky, and it took me directly to the Kate Rusby website.
Kate was pretty without a doubt, and not at all like the cider soaked folk singer I had expected. She’d been around for a while too, having several albums and a live DVD available on the site along with a string of awards and accolades. I listened to a couple of streamed song snatches and checked out her biography. Hailing from Barnsley in the North of England, I was sure she was going to sound like something from Rita, Sue and Bob Too.
That Sunday, with my stern gland freshly greased, we set of to the venue. Kate was already there when we arrived. Sitting eating a biscuit in the dressing room, she was shorter than I had imagined.
“Are you that boat boy Andy went to see?� she asked as Andy and I walked in, rolling a strong but incredibly smooth northern English accent.
“Yeah I am; you must be Kate, thanks for the pass.� I replied.
“No problem.� she smiled and pointed at the teapot. “Grab a cuppa.�
Soon it was time for sound-check. I tagged along and sat in the wings. I dunno why, but I had no idea that Andy would actually be a performer. (All of my other mates in the industry are techs or sound engineers or lampies, and I’d assumed Andy would be the same.) As he stood there with his button accordion I began to get a feeling of where the night was headed. This was real folk music, all but the beards and real ale. I stayed to hear Andy’s squeezebox sound-check and then followed him back to help drink the rider.
As showtime approached I chatted with the band through the underground rabbit warren of corridors leading to the stage and auditorium. As I approached the stage I was collared by the tour manager. “I’ll get you a seat in the auditorium,� he said as I realized I had probably overstayed my welcome, what with just minutes to go before the show opened.
The auditorium was full for a sold out show so as the first song was almost done I pulled up a seat in the aisle next to a pillar.
In the documentary film Punk: Attitude, Chrissie Hynde of the Pretenders states that "punk" only lasted 100 days back in the 70s. If that in fact is the case, no one bothered to tell the band Rancid, currently ripping through a 100+ show cross country tour over the summer and fall, including a two-day gig at Austin's Emo's. That's a lot of days crammed into a tiny tour bus. Lotta bad food, hotels. That's pretty old school punk, if you ask me.
This show was in Emo's open air stage area, half of which is covered, but the open air didn't mean cool refreshing breeze, Austin's neverending heat wave roiling all. This was purely a punk show, by definition. There was no mosh pit. The whole audience was the pit. Loud, fast, long, this was a great old fashioned get in there grind 'em up and sweatfest.
Rancid played for more almost two hours, covering a number of songs from their catalog (they say they are picking from 150 songs each night and each set is different), including a number of acoustic songs towards the end of the set. I kept pushing into the crowd taking a few pictures, then getting slowly pushed back, then trying to work my way up again. Luckily everyone who saw me with my camera kind of helped out, but I always seemed to end up behind the same tall guy.
Unfortunately in all that slamming and crowd surfing I wasn't really able to keep track of the set list (I was too busy trying to duck the steel-toed boots), but Rancid seemed to play forever, stopping only to save a fan from being crushed and again later to gear up for the acoustic set. They wandered all over their music catalog, covering most of their charted songs as well as a number of crowd favorites. They did cover most of their songs from "...And Out Come The Wolves." Tim and Lars were defintely the real energy focus coming from the stage, but Matt and Brett slogged away in the heat, not missing a beat.
This is a great band to see live if you want to go see a punk show in a small venue, but be prepared for the crowd. It's not often you get to see such a big name band playing small clubs. If you get a chance to see Rancid, this would be the tour to do it.
Unfortunately I didn't make it into the show in time to catch either opening act. Thanks to Bill at Emo's, Rancid's tour manager, and Rancid for hooking me up with the photo pass.
I liked festivals, when I was 25. Spending a long weekend wasted was cool back then but nowadays the recovery period is far too elongated. The only time I’ll go to festivals now is if I’m working and so that’s how I ended up at T–in the Park in Scotland.
A mate of mine has a stall selling festival hats and t-shirts etc and needed me along to drive and look after the stall.
“Who’s playing,� he said.
“Yeah, I was gonna ask you who was playing.�
�No, Who’s playing!� he said.
“I dunno, I was asking you!� I replied.
“Forget it!� he said.
After spending 11 hours driving up there, three days setting up the stall and two days dragging pissed up Scots back onto the stall to pay for their “goods,� I was knackered. However, I was looking forward to the last act of the last day and had booked the time off. Bring on the Who!
I regrettably missed the Chillies, Arctic Monkeys and the Zutons, all of whom bust out great sets which could be heard from our pitch between the two main stages. In retrospect, I wish I had got down there. The Who however are one of those bands you have to say you have seen, it’s like “Yeah, I’ve seen Buckingham Palace, I’ve seen England play at Wembley and I’ve seen the Who.� Job done.
By the time I got there the main stage was packed. I tried to make my way a bit closer, but even the back of the crowd was packed out with certainly the biggest crowd of the whole festival. The TV footage apparently showed members of all of the other bands who had stayed back to see the Who. These guys are truly legends, especially the dead ones.
It soon became clear why I don’t like watching bands at festivals or indeed stadium rock.
I had “pissed up twat falling all over me.�
I had “cigarette burn to the back of my neck� from dick head behind me.
“Vomiting fuckwit� was fun too, as was “Oi! You’re in my way I can’t see.�
THERE’S 35,000 PEOPLE HERE AND YOU’RE 5 FOOT 2. OF COURSE YOU CAN’T SEE! PISS OFF!
However, the highlight was the bottle of warm amber liquid that landed on the lass next to me. Thankfully I only suffered minor splash-age.
Oh, yeah, sorry. The Who were playing, weren’t they. I was up for a great time, I really was. “Can’t Explain� started the set well and got people moving slightly. By the time “Won’t Get Fooled Again� was underway I was screaming at the top of my voice and caught myself doing that “fist in the air� stadium rock thing. What was I doing???!!!! Any attempts to dance were met with a disapproving look from those next to me in the crowd. They were gonna hate it when I started to spin my air guitar arm Townsend-style! Liven up for fuck sake!
After that things went downhill. Yeah, they banged out the classics – “Who Are You?�, “Pinball Wizard,� “Substitute,� and “My Generation� all got air-time and were ace live. These guys are good! Even the replacements such as Townsend’s son Simon seemed to gel seamlessly. The performances, though, were slightly diluted by how they dragged out each decent song with a 15 minute reprise. Sorry, but this just leaves me standing.
While the guy in front of me jumped up and down with his rucksack clocking me under the chin I felt it was time for me to leave. Yeah, The Who are damn good, I don’t think that they were the reason I was left frustrated. I just don’t think I’m made for this festival/stadium rock thing. Like it says in my profile, if there are 35,000 people there then it’s probably not gonna blow my skirt up. I think I would have enjoyed this gig more from the back, dancing on my own like a loon. The songs built me up but there was no vent, no chance to let loose. Gimme a small venue any day. At least you don’t get pissed up Scottish chav women squatting down next to you to take a piss. Please!
Slayer
Hometown: Huntingon Park, CA
Friday July 7, 2006
The Rave Ballroom
also: Thine Eyes Bleed, Children Of Bodom, Mastodon, Lamb Of God
Unholy Alliance Tour
Maybe I should start the story at the beginning. The Rave NEVER sells out. EVER. Period. They just keep packing in bodies until no one can move. Seen it a MILLION times. To avoid massive ticketmaster charges we always get our tickets at the box office the day before. Well, the day before, the truck was in the shop, the first shift girl called in sick at the job that pays the bills, and I was running around like a chicken with her head cut off. Never made it. Email Thursday night tells me that I not only did not win the Slayer guitar in The Rave's contest, but our plans for celebrating our third wedding anniversary with Slayer (for those who do not know, slayer lyrics were written in our vows, "Dead Skin Mask") had died. A couple of depressed emails went out to folks. Friday morning. First shift girl called in sick, full time needs me. Working part time, in a bad mood, rescheduled tattoo appointments, shitty day. But get home from work, see an email. A darling friend told me to hang tight. 5 PM hope is lost and then there is a phone call. "There are tix waiting at the box office will call window in your name." The shining light in a day shot to hell. I did underestimate the power of SLAYER. I was wrong and after 20 years of listening to them, I should have known that the show would have sold out. I'm just glad I have friends.
We were late. Naturally, with getting the tix at 5 no way to be on time. Not when a girl is involved. Gotta get the war face on. So I am vain. Deal.
First off, The Rave Ballroom sucks for sound. If you have never been there, you would think the band was off. Milwaukee crowds are great, but the sound sucks. We all know this, we accept it. The Ballroom was actually at one point a gym. Basketball games were played there. It's big and open with huge high ceilings and open alcoves. Sound sucks. A dixie cup of water is $3 and a dixie cup of beer is $6.
Mastodon was just finishing up their last song as we walked in. I'm just getting into Children of Bodom and the Rave was NOT the place to get further in. From their CDs I love them, but the Rave is just plain bad to get introduced to new bands. Had we gone downstairs to the Rave itself (the old presidents' room for you Milwaukee old fogies like me) it would have sounded better. You just can't see anything.
Lamb of God is a band that I have been into for a little while. They played a 30-40 minute set. And hell they had a midget on stage, that earns extra points! They are a nice show to watch. Very high energy. They played a decent selection of songs from their catalog. No I can't remember what they played. The last thing I thought of was my notebook when I was walking out the door. Some we can remember: "Now You've Got Something to Die For," "Laid To Rest," "Hourglass," and "As the Palaces Burn." One thing I have to say: LOG had the single best pit going at the Rave that I can remember. The pit was an old skool circle mosh. When a singer calls for an all floor circle mosh and the room listens, it is a beautiful thing. For those not there, imagine a basketball court sized mosh pit. It was lovely. Those on the sidelines watching it were all smiles. In the words of Nedley Mandico, it was hot.
Slayer is like heaven to my ears. While I can't remember the set list, I can remember most of the songs. Naturally they opened with "South Of Heaven" and closed with "Angel of Death." Songs played (not in this order): "Cult" (the new one), "Mandatory Suicide," "Dead Skin Mask," "Chemical Warfare," "God Hates Us All," "War Ensemble," "Raining Blood," "Blood Red," "Hell Awaits," and a shit load of others that I can't remember. I was disappointed not to hear 213 (being Milwaukee and all, they need to give us our props on good ole Jeffery). The show was great, Slayer may be getting older, but they move through the songs like butta. A smidge of a break that you barely notice. The inverted cross Marshall stack was pretty darn skippy and the laser show was noticed about half way. We were on the side of the stage so we missed most of the images on the big screen. I did however hear they are pretty disturbing at times. And contrary to what he said, it didn't seem like Tom was taking a break. Lastly it was great for me to see all four back together. If I remember correctly (and when trying to remember that is a BAD thing sometimes) I do not think Dave was with them last time. But I could be wrong.
Afterwards, with thanks to some friends, we got to see Kerry at the aftershow. It's been a long time since being back stage at the Rave. Memories of Dee Dee Ramone relieving himself in the stairwell, having a smoke with Dime, a beer with Chuck and Ice , and other good times came back. Sitting there, smelly and sweaty after the show, having a beer with Kerry was cool, but add to it talking snakes. Now that is good times. Mentioned I was going to have to write a review and damned if I was going to remember everything they played. Kerry told me just to say they were good. Well Mr. KFK, you are wrong. As always Slayer is just plain Fucking Insanity and a little Taste of Heaven on Earth. Slayer FUCKING RULES! See ya in Daytona Big Man! This was my at least my tenth time seeing them, and they never have disappointed me yet.
Now I am off to ice my old ass neck. While I skipped the pit because it is AWFULLY hard to explain a black eye as being a good time in an office situation, I didn't just sit there like a stump either. However I don't think the show was nearly loud enough because my ears aren't ringing. Or maybe that is early hearing loss setting in.
One last thing, Thank you K! You bailed me out girl! I owe ya!
I've tried to approach this like a good reviewer and write a balanced, objective, factual review of P!nk's concert at the Fillmore in San Francisco. But I can't, so I won't.
Why fight it? I'm just a fan and much of that is not just because I like her music ... because I do like it, but that's really all, I like it, I don't love it ... but because I like HER. I like her attitude, I like her brains, I like the way she tries to get the little girls to THINK, I like her sneer and her sass and I like the way she looks in a rock and roll can-can girl skirt and motorcycle boots, I just fucking like her.
Other than some minor sound mix problems and a few equipment glitches, the show was great. If you didn't like her when you went in, you'd probably love her when you left. She focused on her best-known and most popular songs, particularly those on her newest album I'm Not Dead (review), including "Stupid Girls" and her new single, "Who Knew." She ripped through bouncing renditions of "Trouble," "Just Like a Pill," "18 Wheeler" and other stuff from her back catalogue.
She sang a shorter second set, in the guise of an encore, of some of her slower stuff, including the crowd-pleaser "Dear Mr. President."
She chatted with the crowd, which worked really well in a venue the size of the Fillmore. The sold-out crowd was only about 20 percent teenagers, although they made up most of the fans down in the front.
A Treeful of Starling fell short of any expectations I had for Mr.Workman's greatly anticipated 5th full length release, so I wasn't sure what to expect of the show to promote the album. Having never been to Massey Hall I wasn't exactly sure what all the fuss was about, but hoped it would be a good time either way. In his typical fashion Hawksley came on moments after 8, the scheduled time for the show to start, sans openers. He kicked off the show with himself on a stool and acoustic guitar accompanied by Mr. Lonely, his faithful piano player beside him, and they went straight into "A Moth is Not a Butterfly" which in my opinion is probably the worst song ever written and created by the Hawk. Not off to a very good start, he went into a couple others off of the latest album, which all translated well into live performance, even if they aren't his best work. Then came the stories.
Hawksley shows are always amusing because he not only is a phenomenal multi-talented performer, he talks and talks and sips his wine (usually out of a plastic cup) and the facetious stories get longer and more interesting. So after a few songs he would interject with another tale about saving allowances to buy a television to tape onto his bicycle and watch Dr. Who throughout the summers or about how he 'gave up being cool' for Lent. His charismatic character shines through in these animated tales as he chuckles to himself as he tells them, with the audience in tears of laughter. But never one to disappoint, Mr. Workman delivered with the songs as well, which was what made me completely understand the honour around playing Massey Hall. I was blown away with the acoustics, his voice carrying throughout the entire hall perfectly whether it be a whisper or long, beautifully executed long note he carried on and on.
Keeping the show mostly low key and intimate, the entire set was himself and Mr. Lonely on piano, playing older classics like "Paper Shoes" and "Jealous of your Cigarette," as well as "Don't Be Crushed," which he played alone on the piano. Playing a handful of his last two albums as well, the set list was well chosen, but what really made the show was his charm. After gracefully thanking the audience and letting us know several times how proud they were to be playing at Massey Hall and how appreciative they were of the fans, they finished the set with his bassist Derek coming out to accompany them on "Ice Age". Adding some extra beats courtesy of Lonely, the song had a real chill, slow groove feel to it that finished up the show nicely. But the roar of the audience wouldn't die down, so they came back out for several encores.
Hawksley came back out and perched right on the edge of the stage with a banjo and nothing else saying that he felt like he was so far back all night, it was like we came to Toronto to see the show that was happening in Mississauga. With his banjo and powerful voice, he launched into "We Will Still Need a Song" that the audience sang along with, and it really began to feel almost like a circle of friends singing to each other around a fire. I'm getting ridiculously sappy here, but Hawksley has a way of taking a couple thousand people and bringing them together with their common love of his talent, and making the entire room feel like some sort of reunion of long lost friends. Throughout the show, Hawksley would stand to deliver his jagged and hard guitar playing throughout harder songs that eventually lead to a broken string, that didn't slow him down one bit. In slower more sensual tracks such as "Tarantulove" he let himself go, almost as though he had slipped into a daydream, stroking the guitar and moaning and breathing into the microphone for minutes on end.
His music recreates itself every time he's on the stage, and you can see his emotions surrounding each song pouring out through his fingers as he plays. With plenty of anecdotes surrounding each song and how it came to be, and about growing up in Toronto, and the surrounding area, the show went on for hours. As he delivered each song, he sang his heart out with his eyes closed shut, every so often taking a peek at Lonely and they would exchange an ecstatic smile. It's surreal to watch them play together; seeing them feed of each other's energy so much, and even after all the years of playing together it's obvious they still are blown away by the other's talent. At one point Workman stopped playing and just watched Lonely as the spotlight illuminated him pounding away at the keys, switching back and forth between instruments. He spent the evening surrounded in a cocoon of a keyboard, piano and mixer all of which he played with tremendous skill. Overall the show was breathtaking, beating out any performance I'd seen from Mr. Workman in the past, his animation and allure as he played and spoke to the adoring crowd leaving me giddy for hours afterwards.
What a weird day. If it happened to somone else and they related this tale to me, I would view them as either a liar or a crank, but here goes, believe it or not.
This week the IHS reptile symposium was happening in San Antonio. I was at the event on Friday intending to zip back to Austin that night to review the Sonic Youth show at Stubb's, but fate, coincidence, or maybe the positioning of the stars and planets had decreed this was not to be. Little did I know that shortly I would be racing through Texas in a car with a rock star on a mission to get him to the show on time.
I was talking with a friend, Kamuran Tepedelen of Bushmaster Reptiles, at the symposium and as we were chatting he received a call from Kerry King of Slayer, scheduled to play in San Antonio that night. Turns out Kerry was in a bind. He had flown home to watch his carpet pythons hatch and was planning on flying in to re-join the tour. Due to forces beyond his control he was unable to make his flight into San Antonio, and the nearest place he could fly in on time was Austin, but his plane wasn't going to land until 4:30 pm and he had to be at the venue by 7 pm. Considering this was all occuring during the Friday rush hour and we had two major cities to traverse, it was destined to be a close thing. Since I was more familiar with the area, I was asked along to act as a human GPS. Having met Kerry more than once in the course of reptile work, I heartily agreed knowing that to do so would destroy any chance I had to do the Sonic Youth review.
We hopped in the car and raced to the airport, easily arriving 30 minutes early. It was 30 minutes after the plane had landed before we had Kerry and his luggage packed away in the car and we sped off off only to immediately encounter Austin's world famous traffic congestion. It took us a full 45 minutes to get from the airport, and back onto IH-35 pointed the right direction, maybe 3 miles total. The clock was ticking much faster than any of us cared to note. Once on the interstate the traffic began to thin and we raced south. Kerry popped in a pre-release copy of the new Slayer CD to provide us traveling music as we weaved and bobbed among the 18 wheelers. Along the way Kerry and I had a nice chat about his snakes, his music, the tour and the new album. I got a chance to mention that we had just launched the music site and that I was supposed to review the Sonic Youth show but probably wouldn't be able to make it. Kerry, seeing my dilema, offered to get me a photo pass to his show instead so I would still be able to review something.
How could I refuse an offer like that.
Well obviously I didn't.
We made it to the venue with 10 minutes to spare, and shortly afterward I had one of the coveted Slayer photo passes taped to my bag, and I was in the coliseum. This was my first show in San Antonio since my 20s, my first since launching my music journalism career, and I was definitely "odd man out" in the camera pit, the regulars all wondering how this "rookie" rated a photo pass. After relating my tale of travel I could tell that they thought I was probably full of shit, but they suffered me well even though I didn't know the venue's etiqutte or rules and committed more than one major faux pax.
By the time we arrived Mastdon had been completeing the last song of their set leaving only Lamb of God, and then Slayer. We really did just barely make it.
I used Lamb of God to zero in my new Nikon D200 during their first three songs before being booted from the camera pit til Slayer. I am not that familiar with Lamb of God's music but it was apparent that the crowd was, and the band was really in sync with them. They roared through their set, which lasted about 45 minutes. I wandered off midway through to get a coke at the concession stand, but their music seemed to follow me in the form of a very large obviously-inebriated man in the next line over who insisted on screaming along in a vocal accompanyment with the band on stage, to the ambivalence of the others in line.
Lamb of God did deliver a hot set, and really got the huge mosh pit warmed up, but it was obvious that the crowed was ready to see Slayer. After a short break, we photographers were ushered back into the pit. Using a heads up from Kerry I planted myself in the right hand side of the pit between Kerry and Tom Araya and stuck like glue.
The stage darkened, then with a flash and a crash Slayer launched into their set, steaming through "South of Heaven." I started blasting away with the camera at everything I could, not paying much attention to the music, as I grabbed as many pics as possible. Much too quickly the tap on the shoulder came and we photographers were then escorted out of the pit and literally out the front door of the venue, as per the venues standard policy. I tried to get Kerry's attention to flash him a thank you for the pass as we were escorted out, but the security guard knocked my arm down before I could do so. Once I had returned my camera to the car I was able to return ticket in hand to watch the rest of this blazing show.
Slayer was on for what seemed like forever but was in fact only about 90 minutes, returning to do two encores. They played a total of 14 songs, and I know I heard "Chemical," and a cut from the new disc called "Cult." I am trying to get a copy of the set list and will post an addendum should it happen. A great show, Slayer rocked the Freeman and its audience, literally to its foundations, all the windows in the place were buzzing and shaking. It was somewhat strange for me to see Kerry, a guy I know pretty much as just another snake guy, literally in the role of rock star doing his job and entertaining a couple thousand people. Slayer is off to Dallas next and I am going to take a few days off, at least until I can hear again.
I managed to produce about 50 usable Slayer photos, with a couple real gems of Kerry and Tom. It is all the work of the camera and the location, as I am still extremely unfamiliar with my D200. Still it was a great feeling to know that I had corrected at least some of the issues that flummoxed my ability to get some quality Les Claypool shots from the other night and had some really nice photos as a result.
Kerry if you read this, thanks for the photo pass, great show, and I look forward to our podcast interview. And if you do - have that Lizard Man guy get in touch with me, we need him in our tattoo photo gallery, though you're certainly no slouch yourself in that arena;)
How can so much funk exist in one skinny white boy?
Fresh from playing two sets at Bonaroo, one with his own band and the other with Oysterhead, Les Claypool, frontman for the rock band Primus, brought his mask collection, his bass collection, Gabby La La, her theremin and sitar, and the rest of his hipster band, which included Skerik, Mike Dillon, and Paulo Baldi, for a smoking thump-fest at Austin's La Zona Rosa. Not only were fans Austin there, but a motley collection of camp followers from as far away as Australia who have been following the tour to watch his legendary work with the bass. He did not disappoint.
Les Claypool has gathered what must be the caucasian equivilent of Parliment/Funkadelic, as if assembled by John Waters, to play his 90+ minute set. Songs were primarily from from his solo projects with a few Primus nuggets thrown in for good measure. Touring in support of his new solo Of Whales and Woe, lots of material from this disc was evident including the title track. Crowd favorites and mine certainly included the funked up "Off White Guilt," "Vernon the Company Man," as well as "Phantom Patriot." He also covered such gems as "Holy Mackerel" and "One Step Beyond" from the band Madness.
This concert was a blast, Les changing into his masks mid-set, appearing in such things as an Elvis mask and at one point what appeared to be a gorrilla mask, but I was too far back to see. Les has a very darkly humorous vein to him, and it was great to watch him sarcastically lambast a fan who made the mistake of flipping him off. Gabby La La, herself an interesting presence onstage, alternated wailing away on the sitar and the theremin, which oddly complements Les' music. I think I could watch Les and his various bands play every night and be entertained.
Opening for Les was a band that literally defies any genre classification I can come up with. I am stumped. Rasputina consists of three musicians playing two cellos and a set of drums, all in Victorian period costume. It was amazing to hear them fill the room with sound, playing a number of their own songs as well as part of Sir Mixalot's "Baby Got Back" and a smoking rendition of Heart's "Barracuda." I have heard many bands cover those songs, but never with cello, and they absolutely rocked. I would really like to see them pursue the Sir Mixalot song further than the tempting little morsel they delivered here. I look forward to seeing them headline their own show so I can see their full set.
I love seeing shows at La Zona Rosa. With its small indoor stage (air conditioned, a must), open air porch and awesomely stocked jukebox, it's a great little venue. Thanks go out to the Direct Events staff and Les Claypool for hooking us up with the photo credentials.
Beck
Hometown: Los Angeles, California http://www.beck.com
Tuesday, June 20, 2006 The Backyard (Austin, Texas)
Also:Jamie Lidell
With a logistics trail that must rival the 3rd Armored Division, the artist known as Beck brought his happy band of minstrels to Austin to sing, dance, and perform a puppet show. No joke. Puppets.
The trek out to The Backyard from where I live is one of those "pack a sandwich for the drive" trips, so long in fact I completely missed the warm up band. I don't know if that was a good thing or bad thing, as at least one concert goer said, and I quote, "They sucked." I couldn't offer an opinion not having seen the show, and can only offer that this particular fan probably would have thought everybody sucked until Beck came on.
If the drive out was long, the walk from the parking lot seemed just as long. Apparently disagreements over parking required The Backyard to park us in an even backer 'backyard" and had us wandering over the river and through the woods on a 20 minute walk to the front gate. I wondered, aloud, whether I should have taken the GPS coordinates of my truck to make it easier to find when I was stumbling through the woods when it was dark later. I hope they get their parking issues resolved soon, I think I got chiggers.
Camera security was at an all time high, with a stout shakedown at the entrance. I don't know what Beck's policy was, this was the venue's. Luckily I had called ahead to inquire about the camera policy or I would have been one of the many that had to stumble all the way back to the car to put theirs away. The policy worked though. I daresay I saw maybe three flashes total from the audience all night. Unfortunately I wasn't quick enough off the line to secure a camera badge for this event, so sadly I have no photos for us.
Beck's band trundled onstage, behind them a huge video screen, and were soon followed by an extremely mop-topped Beck wearing a fedora. The band launched into "Black Tambourine" and the crowd just ate it up. From my vantage point at the side of the stage, I could see what appeared to be the band's image projected on the video screen. Closer inspection revealed that it wasn't the band but marionettes dressed in the exact same clothes, and moving to the exact same rythyms. Moving further out I could see that nestled in the back next to the drum kit was a ministage and there were actually 3 or 4 puppeteers working the marionettes live. They did this the whole show. I must have seen well over a thousand concerts and this is the first time I have ever seen anyone use puppets onstage. Maybe its just my latent pupaphobia coming home to roost but I seemed to fixate on the damnable things through the whole show.
I have always liked the way Beck juxtaposes bits and pieces to make a whole in his funky almost whitebread hip-hop kind of way. Beck bounced all over with the show, covering something from just about everything he released. Lots and lots of stuff from Guerro and Odelay, including "Loser," "Devils Haircut," "New Pollution," and some stuff off of Sea Change. Many of them sounded like they were straight off the disc, others were arranged quite differently. I think my favorite song for the night was "Rental Car." On Guerro it has a summerish almost beach boy feel, live it had a growl and bite that they don't really capture on disc. I also enjoyed the the Ray Manzarek-like keyboard vibes on some of the songs. I don't think I heard much I didn't like.
I was glad to see Beck reference Austin, and its world famous bat colony, several times in the show, and at least once in song. He does really seem to enjoy the Austin crowd.
I have never understood Beck's "dancing" guy. I found him intriguing during Beck's SNL appearance, annoying for 90 minutes, and his whole fake banjo routine near the end detracts from the performance and needs to go. Maybe I missed the reference or the context.
I think that the only problem I had was an energy related one. It seemed to me that in such a big open air venue much of the band's energy (not their sound) dissipated the further you got from the stage. While most of the audience probably missed this, I bet that had the same show been held in an enclosed, smaller venue it would have been a much better show. I guess the same could be said for most outdoor shows. Perhaps if the big screen had been showing the actual band instead of a bunch of puppets it would have alleviated some of this.
This show clocked in at 90 minutes and I can recommend it to anyone that does not fear puppets.
Zappa Plays Zappa http://zappa.com/zpz/
June 16th, 2006
Hummingbird Centre
Toronto, Ontario
It sounds simple enough. Dweezil Zappa re-discoverers his father's music, immerses himself in it, and puts together a bad-ass band to go on the road and play it. Add to that appearances by certain Zappa alumni and you have a recipe for a very cool night.
What happens when a big ol' wrench gets thrown in the works? Ummmmmmm.... maybe your lead singer has to rush home because of a family emergency. Not just any lead singer.... Napoleon Murphy Brock!
This is where it gets interesting. Dweezil et al come up with a set that can be done without Brock. A set comprised not just of some songs from the original set list, but several other songs that had yet to see the light of day on this tour. I can't recount the setlist song for song, but I can tell you that it was chaotic, irreverent and beautiful. "Stinkfoot" was brought out on stage for the first time, and "Inca Roads" was a treat. There were also several songs that I know when I hear them but couldn't tell you the name of.
Dweezil has put together a band that is frighteningly good. The standouts for me were Scheila Gonzalez who seemed to play everything and sing at the same time, and the bassist Pete Griffin. Pete exuded fun and youthful exuberance, and commanded the stage without taking the spotlight from anyone else. I agree with Dweezil's choice to put together a young band, it brought a vitality to the show that wouldn't have been there with a band made up solely of Zappa alumni.
Oh, but what Zappa alumni Dweezil did bring on the road! Terry Bozzio is one hell of a drummer and did fantastic versions of "Punky's Whips" and "I'm So Cute." He also brought some much needed comedy to the show when he initiated some witty banter with Dweezil.
But, the man that truly owned the stage (even if it was for just a short time) was Steve Vai . I have to admit that I probably wouldn't have been as eager to attend this show if Steve Vai hadn't been included. "Peaches on Regalia" and "Montana" have seldom sounded so good. Steve owned the Hummingbird Centre, but knew when to lay back and let others shine. Though when it came to trading licks with Dweezil he chewed him up and spit him out time and time again.
Below are some short clips of "Montana" featuring Steve Vai on Vocals:
Of all the surviving musical landmarks in Austin that were missed by the wrecking ball in the 70s and 80s, Threadgills' venues are unquestionably the most famous, being best known as the starting point for Janis Joplin's career in the 60s. Threadgills is still giving that same support to local and up and coming bands(and still serving up a mean chicken fried steak which is great 'cause I can use a break from all the Bar-B-Q).
Down on West Riverside Drive, within the shadow of the office building that is the the grave of Austin's Armadillo World Headquarters where I conned my way backstage as an impetuous high schooler to see the REAL XTC in 1981 and got to interview Andy Partridge, Threadgill's outdoor venue with its tables and chairs and park-like environment was a great place to see the XTC tribute band Dukes of Simpleton, especially after the early rain showers had knocked 10 degrees off the temperature.
I don't normally subject myself to "tribute" bands, as I would much rather see the actual band, or in most cases have seen the actual band, but as it's unlikely we will see the members of XTC tour anytime soon, it was great to hear their music live again. I was fortunate as a young pup to have the chance to see and hear XTC live in 1981 on their first U.S. tour supporting the Drums and Wires album (an album is a black shiny plastic thing that is the analog equivalent of today's CD, sometimes referred to as "vinyl"), and at least one other time later in their career. For those not familiar with XTC, they were for their time one of the most artistic, interesting and inventive bands to rise from England's punk scene in the late 70s/early 80s, and their intricately crafted songs have long made them favorites among musicians. Despite seeing much early success, and building a substantial core audience, issues with their record label left band members literally parking cars for a living at one point.
It says much for XTC's musicianship that to duplicate their sound so well, the Dukes of Simpleton needed twice as many people to cover their work. Still, it was a wonderfully light and frothy show that lasted a little over an hour, if you extract out their set break. Although the lead vocalist, Kirk Kellam, doesn't have quite the same sound as Colin Moulding or Andy Partridge, he was in tune and sounded clean and it worked well. The rest of the band's sound was indistinguishable from the original, and songs such as "Dear God" and "Peter Pumpkinhead" sounded wonderful live, and they brought in brass for "My Bird." Only their third show, and a still a little rough around the edges, Dukes of Simpleton are well on their way to having a fine tight band, and they will only improve with more experience playing together live.
This tribute band is packed chock full of local Austin music veterans, musicians who for years have focused on their own work. That they would take the time to cover one of their own favorite bands and do it so well says alot both for the work of XTC and for the Dukes. The audience sure seemed to be peppered with a lot of faces from the "old school Austin punk" days as well, many I hadn't seen in years. To see photographs from this show please click here
Props go out to Dennis Bruhn and Shelly Vlcek and Threadgills for hooking me up with a press pass on very short notice for this event. I don't know if Eddie Wilson is still the owner of Threadgills but if so, long time no hear. I am glad you're still picking good bands for your venues. You still owe me that chicken fried steak. ;)
New Model Army
Thursday 25th May 2006
The Concorde II Club
Brighton - England
Ok, so I've been a New Model Army fan for some 20 years now. Going to see them is nothing new having toured with them almost every year. (Both here and across Europe.) I pretty much know what to expect. Although I do sometimes talk about giving it up and only going to hometown gigs I somehow always get roped in.
As the tour approaches I get increasingly frequent phone calls from others following around the country, checking that I'm gonna be at heir hometown gig, do I need a crash, can they stay at mine, do I fancy sharing petrol costs to the Shetlands, that kind of thing. Then before I know it I'm doing the whole tour.
This tour has followed a much similar recipie to all of the others. Arrive in a town sometime in the afternoon. Get some food and find the pub where everyone is meeting. It’s not always the closest pub. Often the town hosts have a favourite pub they use and it becomes a mission to find the crew. Sometimes we arrange to hook up with the band, (who are by now friends of ours) and we watch a match, like we did in Norwich for the Leeds/Watford game. This is usually a good opportunity to buy the guys drinks as a thank you for guest list places.
Anyway, Thursdays gig in Brighton Concorde 2 started like many others. We arrived in Brighton with Big Bill and managed to park on the sea front. After a quick bite to eat we soon found the crew in the Heist pub and started the customary consumption of alcohol. Come 8.30 we reckoned the support band had finished and we headed for the venue. Tommy Tee is behind the merch stall as we jump the queue and get out of the rain. Guest list places ROCK!
A few hellos to the stragglers and the people whose face you know from years of gigging but have yet to build a relationship with. The front of the venue near the stage starts to fill up with the eager locals and a few of the big faces from the following. Me and a few of the others stay near the Merch stall with Tommy Tee, waiting for the kids to tire themselves out and for one of the old songs to be played. Only then will we make an appearance en mass at the front.
The longer I follow this band, the less songs I know. I haven't played the new albums as much as I still do the old ones. I'm not the same guy I was 20 years ago and the new songs are much different nowadays. The old tracks bring back memories and are linked to some very strong emotions, to some special people and to a time ion my youth when things were very different. The old songs take me back to those times.
I know the set list starts with a few new tracks. I personally use this time to watch the band on stage as there is no chance to do this when in the pit later. (I remember years ago when Jez, the lead singer shaved off his long hair. It was halfway through the set till we noticed!) Stood at the back with Speedy, Dawn, Danny and Bernie I try to neck my beer before they play "Here Comes the War!" which is our cue. The tension rises in increments as we pace around, catching each others eye and smiling. "Want some of this?" I ask Speedy, offering my beer, which he takes and skulls in a mouthful.
Then the drums started, the heavy dull beat which for the band is the intro and gives Jez some time to swap guitars. The boys at the back take off our shirts revealing trademark tattoos. Suddenly there seem to be a dozen faces heading towards the front from different places in the venue. Nod stern hellos at some of the part time faces and arrive in the heaving, sweaty pit to catch the eye of the boys. It's going to go.
Anyone who has been to a New Model Army gig knows it is rough. Not as bad as it used to be, I mean, we are all getting a bit old now and can't go to work with Black eyes and fat lips. I remember Dr Joan (who is a GP) ended up with a black eye after every tour for about 6 years running. Poor lass. Speedy is a stock broker, Dawn is a financial advisor and I ran healthclubs, so not the alternative lifestyles which would tolerate such battle wounds. I'm glad it is less extreme now as there are less real fights at the front, and I always hated that.
It would usually be some local with a reputation as a "Hardcore NMA fan" who would want to stamp his authority on the gig. The music is pumped full of adrenalin and bravado and the kid would want to show everyone who was boss. Unfortunately the following are usually a good 30 strong (more in the old days) and so picking a fight with one of us is just stupid. Usually it would be Bill or I who would put a stop to it, hopefully before Jed noticed. That usually got messy.
As "War" kicks in the pit goes mad. The lightweights usually end up on their arse or make fast exits. There's usually a suprisingly handy local lass giving her all, trying to stay with it. So the boys go easy and make sure she stays upright and doesn't get nailed by one of the try-hards. This gig it was a really pretty skinhead girl from Holland who I have seen before. I'm just nodding my hello when I feel a "Whack!" in my jaw.
There in the middle of the pit is this dread youth with a Thunder and Consolation knot tattooed on his back. I see him head towards Bill with his elbows at head height and hope that Bill gives him some leeway. He does, the kid splits his lip with a very inconsiderately placed elbow. This is not good. As the song continues the kid gets a couple of hefty shoves that send him across the dance-floor and sprawling on his back or face. This usually ensures they get the message and they tone it down a bit, but this boy is a bit stupid. Bill catches my eye, so does Baby Bill. Dawn shakes here head 'cos she's seen this before. The boy comes back at Bill with venom and malice. He only gets halfway there as I catch his ponytail and pull him towards me. Dawn steps over and starts whispering in the pretender's ear and Bill, Speedy, Justin, Danny and some guy we call Freddy Boswell stand around looking like they want to eat his kidney. I've still got a handful of dreads and he's going nowhere, despite some effort.
The song finishes and we all stand around, waiting for the youth to throw a punch. He doesn't and retreats to the sidelines where his friends are standing at a safe distance. The next couple of songs are ballards so we don't see him for a while. We get chance to catch our breath and some of the lads have a fag. I'm watching the boy and his buddies, checking their facial expressions, watching them point. Bill wipes the blood from his still bleeding lip and raises his eyebrows. The intro to “The Hunt� comes on. If it's gonna go, it's gonna go now. "Not to ‘The Hunt’," I think, "That's a mistake."
The boy steps in, followed by two of his mates. We stand there and look at him, coiled and ready. Why does this have to happen? Why don't people just play nicely? He walks over to Bill and offers his hand. Then he turns to me and says "Sorry mate." in a thick Dublin accent "We just came all the way from Dublin for this one gig. We just get a bit excited you know."
"No worries mate, but I like my teeth where they are."
"Sorry mate, we're cool yeah?"
"Yeah, what's your name?"
"George."
"I'm Tony and that's Bill."
"Let's have some fun, yeah?"
"Yeah"
And the rest of the gig goes off without incident. It's rough, almost as bad as the old days. George and Co hold their own in the pit with the faces, giving as good as they get. Yeah, he caught me with a couple of stray shots, but he did the right thing and apologised. We pick up the fallen and smile at the girls on the outskirts. This is how it should be; a big outpouring of adrenalin, testosterone and bravado but without the need for any stupidness. This is why I love this band.
Aideen comes into the pit with a few bottles of water as the band churn out a couple of slow tracks, giving us time to recover. I pass one to George and we chat about a mutual friend in Dublin. “I wouldn't have cracked you if I knew you were a mate of Martin's!" he joked. As “125mph� starts up we know rest time is over and it's down to business again.
After the gig we stand around comparing war wounds and stories. The bouncers try to kick us out, but we have after-show passes, and get a couple for George and his crew. Tommy moans about having to find our t-shirts from behind the merch stall as usual so Silke passes him a Becks. He shuts up and counts the stock. Not a bad night by the looks of it; rolls of cash held in his hand as he does the load out. We all watch out for him, remembering our swag friend Darryl who was shot and mugged in South Africa. Not that we could do much, but it is on the front of everyone's minds, although it remains unspoken.
As the last of the crowd peel away the band come out and chat with some of the faces. I pass Micheal a bottle of Baileys which Dawn and I bought him as a thank you for our guest list places. Baileys, very rock and roll Micheal, very rock and roll. Mark from the Levellers appears, with Brighton being his hometown gig. He invites us to a friends bar for a lock in. Tommy Tee stipulates a 2am road time. We all laugh, knowing it's never gonna happen.
"You gonna come George?" I ask.
"Is that cool?"
"Yeah, sure, follow us."
"Are you the lad who bust Bill’s lip?" asks Dean, the keyboard player.
"Errrr."
"He only weighs as much as your leg Bill, you're turning into a girl in your old age," he laughs at Bill.
"Fuck off!" says Bill, all 19 stones of him. "Don't take the piss, I beat anorexia."
At the bar it is three o'clock before we leave. Warren pulls the tour bus us outside the front window and flashes his full beams at us inside, while Tommy Tee tries to round up the band. "I'm not leaving says Nelson. You're fired then!" says Tommy. "Get on the bus, there's beer on there."
Dawn has a similarly tough task trying to round up the boys for her car. Bless here for staying sober and driving us on the whole tour! I know there is a bottle of JD back on my boat and that it will not see the morning. Sure enough, come 7am its gone and we all find a space to crash. Dawn gets the bed cos she's driving; I end up in the galley with my head next to Bill, who snores.
George and his boys left for the airport as we said goodbye at the bar. We have a place to stay in Dublin anytime, and we don't have to worry about his elbows any more.
I went to this show with a lot of preconceived notions about this band based on their press and television appearances, and was completely ready and willing to dismiss them as a bunch of immature, pretentious, young British snots. After winning both "Best New Band" and "Best British Band" at the 2006 NME, and then being touted at SXSW as leading the next British Invasion, only to see them trash the SXSW 2006 critics, and then later their amps on their SNL appearance, I was afraid I was being led down the garden path again, a la Spacehog and The Stone Roses.
Let's get something straight. The Arctic Monkeys are not bigger than Jesus, nor are they bigger than the The Beatles, and they aren't better than Oasis, at least in terms of musicianship. What they are, however, is a young, fresh, raw, talented band with a distinctive sound. Given time, they'll likely produce some really neat material. Lead vocalist Alex Turner has a voice that is unmistakeable in a way similar to, say, Stan Ridgway or Richard Butler, and it clearly helps this band distiguish themselves from the great grey cloud of other U.K. bands clawing for U.S. airplay.
I don't expect the Arctic Monkeys to produce an intricately worked masterpeice with "Dark Side of the Moon" longevity, nor do I see them producing any massive anthems of teen angst or tomes of deep political thought. With songs like "I Bet You Look Good On The Dancefloor," I expect them to make good, fun, party music that a lot of people enjoy, and see a career similar to the Red Hot Chili Peppers.
This power pop foursome has been unfortunately and unfairly saddled with the label of being the "next big thing" from the U.K. to invade North America, and the monstrous P.R. machine behind that promotion was very much in evidence at Stubbs (even though it somehow missed us when handing out camera passes). That is an enormous amount of pressure for a bunch of literal 20 year olds in their first band to expect to live up to, and it's pretty obvious that the band is uncomfortable with all the hype.
Aside from that, it was only the 100+ heat, the sold out crowd, and the long lines at the beer stands that made the audience at the show uncomfortable. All of that was forgotten when the band took the stage. Looking every bit like a high school garage band, these guys blasted through a short set of only about an hour. Simulcast on KROX 101X, the band had a very smooth mix from the sound board and did not sound much different than they do on disc. Very twangy, jerky and poppy, in a White Stripes-meets-Mersey-tone, they ripped through essentially everything on their only album and their EP, stopping occasionally to banter with a woman in the audience requesting they remove first their pants, then their shoes. All I can say is that at least she didn't request "Free Bird." I really like this band and would pay to see them perform again when they have more material. It would be a shame to see this bands rough edges sanded off by some slick producer, or to see them succumb to the hype that preceeds them.
Opening for the Arctic Monkeys was the California band We Are Scientists with about a 30 minute set. This is another good band but unfortunately I wasn't familiar at all with their music. They have a good sound and are very much a college band, with a substantial Austin audience that germinated with their 2005 SXSW performance where they were labeled as one of the "Must See Unsigned Bands."