Jenny Lewis @Music Hall of Williamsburg, June 9th

The Hotness aka Jenny Lewis came back for a small venue gig at Music Hall of Williamsburg, and like always, I dug her something bad. In contrast to the first time I saw her without Rilo Kiley over three years ago at Angel Orensanz promoting her first solo effort, Rabbit Fur Coat, with the (kinda creepy but not-so-much any more) Watson Twins, Jenny was much looser this time, especially having toured her second solo album, Acid Tongue, a whole bunch by now. This gig was quite a treat -- she had more diverse material from which to pull, and even opened with a beautiful solo acoustic "Silver Lining" from Rilo Kiley's last album. Plus, we got to hear her fun cover of The Traveling Wilburys' "Handle Me With Care" (see below), which I believe was missing from that 2006 show.

I still think her boyfriend, Johnathan Rice, reminds me of the poor man's Michael Pitt, but, Jenny, man....le *sigh*.


"Trying My Best To Love You":

"Handle Me With Care":


"Acid Tongue":


Oh, and we did get to see the opener, Deer Tick, about whom I knew nothing other than da blogs love 'em. They were a fun mix of country, rock and jangly blues, which kept me entertained, including fun covers of Tom Petty's "Breakdown" and John Cougar Mellencamp's "Authority." Their lead singer had kind of a nasally, whiny voice that took me some getting used to, but once I settled in, it worked, I suppose.

The Dears @Bowery Ballroom, May 4th

I loved The Dears something fierce a few years ago. Their stellar album, No Cities Left, was one of my favorite CDs to play in 2005, and still remains a classic to me. Thanks to The Music Slut, I was able to attend this show, older and wiser, and perhaps more weary, too.

The magnetic frontman, Murray Lightburn, started off the show with a stirring vocal hymnal, slowing winding his way from the back of the room to the stage, which was shrouded in darkness. From there, they played a set which drew upon many familiar tunes from the aforementioned No Cities Left as well as their follow up, Gang of Losers. They also played newer material from a new release. Unfortunately, the show felt very disjointed to me, and what I once adored about their music -- the moody quality -- perhaps only added to the sense of discombobulation.

And, while no fault of the band, I was further frustrated by so-called fans who talked at great length during the show while they were standing right fucking up front! Geez Louise! You'd think people who bothered learning all the lyrics to a band's repertoire (and trust me, they did sing along) would fucking shut up and respect the musicians above them. This one couple, in particular, raised my ire, when they had the nerve to grab the setlist even before the show was over with a few songs still to go. I had to admonish them out of a sense of outrage, and only then did they begrudgingly replace the setlist. Oh, the sense of entitlement these twats had! Yes, The Dears were clearly here to play for just you, and no one else!

Oh well, the magic The Dears once held for me was already kind of over by that point. At least they did close with my favorite track, "22: The Death Of All The Romance." Yes, truly the death indeed.

Blind Pilot @Mercury Lounge, March 31st

I often enjoy the random indie band my friend Shana introduces me to, and Blind Pilot was no exception. They are a mellow group of talented musicians with beautiful harmonies that reminded me a lot of the time I saw Bowerbirds open for Bon Iver (another Shana find). I may never go nuts about them like I would bigger bands, but their quiet, hook-filled music proved the perfect antidote to a hectic, long New York City day.

Here's "Go On, Say It" from their debut album, 3 Rounds And A Sound:

We also caught the opener, The Broken West, whom we had seen exactly two years prior open for The Long Winters at the very same venue. The band seemed less raw this time, but perhaps still relegated to opener status....

PJ Harvey & John Parish @Irving Plaza, March 26th

Last night, I caught the forever amazing PJ Harvey with her longtime collaborator, John Parish. They were at the Fillmore Irving Plaza in New York promoting their second album together, A Woman A Man Walked By. I was fortunate enough to secure a place on the rail up front with little effort (as opposed to the previous night's Morrissey adventure). Having heard the duo's initial album, Dance Hall at Louse Point, which was an avant-garde bluesy mix, I had no predictions as to what the evening would be like. I wondered if this small venue experience would be anything like the time I was fortunate enough to catch Polly in 2004 at the itsy bitsy Knitting Factory, where she absolutely blew my fuckin' mind.

The dynamic duo and their band came onto the stage promptly at 9:15 and played for about 75 minutes. First most, I was struck by the contrast between the Woman and the Man. The petite Ms. Harvey stood barefoot at center stage with her porcelain skin enhanced by her simple flowing black dress and red lipstick, while Parish towered over her dressed in a jacket and fedora, looking almost impassive. She was the more conversational of the two, though I would hardly call it that. The focus here was the music, which drew from a mix of selections of both albums.

Like the two before us, the music was a study in contrasts. They opened up with the excellent "Black Hearted Love," perhaps the most radio-friendly of their songs. From there, the songs differed extensively, allowing us to savor the schizophrenic nature of PJ Harvey's performance -- at one moment, she is the delicate, demure woman with the soaring angelic voice, at other times, punk vixen, howling with a sense of urgency. God, I love her.

The music itself was great -- I was only familiar with some of the Dance Hall songs and "Black Hearted Love" -- other than that, everything was new to me. Most of the songs did not contain your usual song structure but rather, seemed narrative in nature, reflecting different moods. It'll be a great listen on a blustery day. I look forward to purchasing this album when it comes out next week.

Here's a quieter cut from their new album entitled "The Soldier":

The opener was a friend of theirs -- Howe Gelb, an old-timer from Tuscon, AZ, who's been around the block and back. He entertained us for about 1/2 hour with a mix of nonsensical storytelling and guitar strumming, talk-singing kind of like Lou Reed with a sense of humor and a southwestern flair. I really dug his snakeskin suit which emitted cloud dusts everytime he moved.

Morrissey @Webster Hall, March 25th

Dear God, no matter how many times I swear I will never spend another dime on this abominably frustrating man, he manages to draw me in like Circe with her siren's call. Tonight, Morrissey was utterly charming, and I have no regrets waiting in line for over five hours today to get closer to him. Absolutely none! (Okay, well, maybe the kick to the head I got at the end during the mad rush for the stage stunned me a little...)

Strangely enough, each time I've seen Moz, the venues have gotten progressively smaller (and he perhaps progressively larger *wink*) but hey, who's complaining? Although a few months ago I said this'll be my last Moz show, after tonight's show, which was the closest I've gotten yet, I may have to reconsider.

The Pains of Being Pure at Heart @The Bell House, March 13th

Last Friday, to celebrate the divine Ms. Shana's birthday, we headed over to The Bell House in Gowanus for the sold out gig of The Pains of Being Pure at Heart. Andie and I were pretty excited to check out the newish venue somewhat within walking distance of us in Brooklyn.

When we decided a month ago we'd check out this much-buzzed about indie band, I, ahem, "previewed" the album and gave it a good listen about ten times in doing my homework. It wasn't bad -- a little twee, kinda shoegazy, sorta catchy. Every time I heard the opening notes of "A Teenager in Love" I was immediately reminded of David Bowie's "Modern Love." So, like I do with many newer bands, I decided what the heck, it's a cheap ticket, and if the band wows me over with its live show, I'll be the first person in line buying their cd legit.

We arrived at The Bell House after walking off our delicious meal from Zaytoons in Carroll Gardens just in time for the second opener, a band from London called Let's Wrestle. These three young lads reminded me of seeing a friend's younger brother's high school battle of the bands act -- rough around the edges, some raw talent, eager, energetic, pretty sucky. I thought the lead singer's vocals needed a lot of work -- perhaps in five years, it'll mellow out and be less Peter Bradyesque. Their best song was the last one in the set -- basically an extended jam, with no vocals!

But maybe I judged them too harshly. The main reason for being there, The Pains, promptly hit the stage and played pretty much the entirety of their album for about 40 minutes. They didn't exhibit much of a stage presence beyond just playing their music. And to our befuddlement, while the instrumentation sounded okay, the vocals were mixed in low and were off-key! First we thought it might be our positioning on the side by the wall, but Andie and Shana moved around to a number of places, including right in front of the sound board, and did not find any improvement in the vocals.

Yikes! What was going on? Did the singer in Let's Wrestle suffer from the same inability to hear themselves? The vocals for both acts were so poor, it got me and Andie wondering if it was a Bell House issue -- we'll have to think twice before making the shlep out to the venue again. And strangely, the packed house seemed to enjoy it fine. Were they drunk enough not to care?

Needless to say, I did not stop by the merch table to pick up a copy of the cd. I'm all about supporting small bands, but sorry, what a disappointment. Happily, I had my friends and good food to lean on. And a nice brisk walk home.

Fishbone @Knitting Factory, Nov. 29th

(Sorry for posting this late and out of order after the Neil Young at MSG reviews. That's just how the cookie crumbles sometimes.)

As part of Bestest Boy's birthday bonanza, I decided to rally the boys to catch one of their all-time faves, Fishbone. I hadn't been to the Knitting Factory in nearly a year, since the time I saw GZA perform Liquid Swords. It was also an occasion to catch one of the last shows at the venue as it was due to close shop in early 2009.

I had a vague knowledge of Fishbone, remembering them best from my high school days of listening to 92.3 WDRE back in their hey day during the mid '80s to early '90s. I knew them to have influenced many a ska/punk/funk band, several of which ended up surpassing Fishbone's level of fame. This was my first opportunity to see Fishbone, and I wondered about their capacity to endure over three decades. Bestest Boy told me about seeing them twenty years ago at shows filled with leather jackets, boots and sweaty bodies moshing in constant kinetic movement. How would they fare in 2008?

To my amazement, Fishbone is still running strong, even despite a few personnel changes, largely on the back of its front man, Angelo Moore, a lean, muscular man of 43 years. He started off the evening with a stirring solo spoken word performance. When the rest of the band joined him on the stage, he strapped on his baritone sax and adeptly led them and the crowd through a few hours of sheer madness. His vocals sounded great, and his energy was unbelieveable, even singing while surfing through the crowd all the way to the bar. To my delight, I easily knew at least 1/2 of the songs, and even the songs I didn't know were accessible and totally fun.

The intimacy of the Knitting Factory really added to the energy, as it was virtually impossible to avoid being part of the moshing throng. Not since college had I felt the crowd surge with such movement. I tried not to think too much about the ick factor of all these sweaty guys smashing up against me, a funny mix of guys in their late 30s/40s, like Bestest Boy and his friends, and young kids who might not have been born yet in 1990. Instead, I absorbed the vibe and just went with the flow. Chi-tastic!

It was particularly funny when Bestest Boy and Nick decided to enter the heart of the moshing, handing me their glasses for safe keeping. I'll never stop laughing at the site of them disappearing, and then reappearing, sweaty and out of breath. Hee hee!

Here's a taste of the intensity of the evening -- Fishbone performing their seminal hit, "Party at Ground Zero":