Slowhand and Stevie spun my top...

photo credit: Wes Orshoski
I've been conducting a poll over the past year or so with people whose music tastes I respect concerning Eric Clapton's "Godliness". It seems I naively thought it went unquestioned, but I have recently learned that many question the depth with which Clapton plays "White Man's Blues". My instant retort was simply, "But what about Layla?" Apparently that mighty riff was conceived by Duane Allman. "But what about..." The conversation ensued, and I was left questioning all I loved about EC.


Last night at Madison Square Garden put to rest any doubts I had as to whether I still worship the man and his profound yet dazzling bluesy touch. This concert blew away the Cream reunion show I was lucky enough to catch a few years back (whose highlights were Ginger Baker and a Stormy Monday). Last night's show was that much superior because Clapton shared the stage with the wonderful Steve Winwood-- thus the talent and the classic rock song pool were doubled. Hearing Winwood sing live was a revelation: he just may be my favorite rock n' roll vocalist ever. Never trying too hard, never hitting a bad note, simply Steve Winwood. It doesn't hurt that his talents on the keyboard are matched with his going-toe-to-toe with the other guitar player onstage. From the opener of Had To Cry Today it was clear that these men were going to deliver rock n' roll in a straight-ahead, nostalgia-free manner, and their interplay was remarkably natural and tight. You can get a taste of that clean, driven sound in this opening segment of Forever Man:




Once I knew the rock was going to be legitimate, I was rather satisfied. But Clapton delivered some unexpected gems (Them Changes by Jimi Hendrix!), some gorgeous blues (again Hendrix, with Voodoo Chile), and even some freakin' psychedelic jams. I am of the opinion that psychedelics should only be played by bands that once delivered the style in their youth-- and on the condition that they now do so sober. And I have to admit that if I closed my eyes and boogied, (which I did a lot of) there were some suspiciously phish-y moments in the later half of the show. Granted, Trey has always had Clapton in his bag of tricks and licks, but I didn't know that EC could plumb the depths of heady jams so well. Listen to this clip of Glad and tell me if you can't hear a little bit of the Vermont quartet in there (especially toward the end of the clip...)



The only complaint I had about the show was typical of these sorts of aged-superstar shows, where the crowd is composed of people who paid a lot of money in order to remain seated during a rock n' roll concert. In 30 years (and you can hold me to this), I hope I'm never one of the ones yelling "Sit Down!" instead of "Hell Yes!" at a concert. From behind the stage, the seated bumps-on-a-log were pretty spoiled with 3 big screens to see the magic of quick fingerwork, so I stayed true to the cause. I picked my moments to concede (acoustic solo songs from both EC and SW), but eventually we created a small revolution of dance in our section. (Attendees at the final show this Thursday: just see which section is grooving and go join 'em... and once After Midnight starts up, if everybody in there isn't dancing, well, then something has gone terribly, terribly wrong in this world).

LCD Soundsystem: more, please...

The invitation began while I was in my first beer line of the evening: a throbbing baseline reminiscent of something vaguely Talking Heads-esque was beckoning me beyond the brew stand at Randall's Island last Saturday, a venue that I had ostensibly ventured to for the first time in order to see Arcade Fire.

What ensued over the next couple of hours before Arcade Fire took the stage was a tour through myriad genres of music, all wrapped up into one highly combustible package of aural delight. Admittedly, I fell pretty quickly for LCD Soundsystem, despite some small resistance somewhere in the back of my head asking if I was truly hippie-ing out to dance-trance electronica. But that guitar sound! That frontman! The energy! The comely keyboard player and her shiny pumps! And that disco ball couldn't have hurt, either...



I had hoped to find a clip of "New York, I Love You But You're Bringing Me Down" online to share with you, because James Murphy's hilarious and touching performance truly felt like a loving, impromptu confessional to the city. Murphy is utterly captivating onstage, not just because of his quick wit and large stage presence, but because he has the ability to slip between vocal registers with the unforseen stealth of somebody like Jim James, who could be melting your face with primal screams and then suddenly hit an ethereal note that transports you. James Murphy is my new man to watch (and for those of you in NYC, he's DJing a set at The Hiro Ballroom next Tuesday, Oct 16th. It's free if you RSVP...). For more evidence of Murphy's sense of humor, and because bloggers deserve to be made fun of, click here.

Towards the end of set we returned to that deliciously quirky baseline that had enticed me at the outset, and I concluded that I would need to see more of this band as soon as possible. As I was trying to figure out how I would describe this newfound portal of pleasure, my friend and music expert SuperDee aptly concluded that it was Dance N' Roll. No wonder they pay her the big bucks ;) The set that followed from Arcade Fire was an enjoyable (if predictable) sing-along, but it could not nearly deliver the punch of its predecesor, leaving me hankering for some more Dance N' Roll as I headed out to find the loser cruiser to deliver me to back to Manhattan.

'Scuse me while I Slip into My Morning Jacket...

It is a rare thing indeed when someone tells you that a band is about to melt your face off... and they're right. I had heard studio work from My Morning Jacket, and I suppose I can recall a few recommendations to see them live, but I was nowhere near prepared for the tower of sound that engulfed me on Nov. 30th at the Roseland Ballroom in New York.

First things first, of course, which brings us to the delicious opening set by The Slip, a trio who earns more and more of my respect each time I hear them. (Which, fortunately for me, is rather often these days...) The songs that comprise their latest studio effort, Eisenhower, are all remarkably stage-worthy, continually evolving, and are profound enough to provoke both your grey matter and your dance moves.

The band took to the stage adorned with furry wildlife as headgear: Brad Barr (guitar & vocals) played Moose, Marc Friedman (bass) was the Fox, and Andrew Barr (drums) took on the Wolf. The story goes that the pelts were acquired somewhere in western Pennsylvania, and there were multiple plush accessories purchased (including one for My Morning Jacket frontman Jim James, who brought his Bear onstage for portions of his set).

While Slip fans are now accustomed to getting their fill of Eisenhower's 'hits' like Even Rats, and Children of December, songs like Paper Birds are developing into incredible live adventures, and Airplane/Primitive might just be my favorite rock song of the year. Do yourself two favors: buy the album, and see the band, and you'll be a much happier person. New York, are you listening? The Slip will be playing their New Years show at (soon-to-be-closed for-renovation and returning-in-spring as the Williamsburg Music Hall) NorthSix in Brooklyn. You have been advised...

You can stream the set that The Slip played the following day for WXPN at Philadelphia's Electric Factory here.

Which brings us back to My Morning Jacket, where my face was just about to melt. I'm really at a loss for words to describe their impact, but what I can tell you is that I was captivated every single moment of the show. Not just entertained, but that kind of "I don't even want to have a sip of beer because I might miss something" engagement. I think it's safe to say my jaw was on the floor for the majority of the set, and I kept wondering "Where have I been? Why hasn't anyone told me about this breathtaking sound before?" The energy was powerful not only in the epic rock tunes (and these boys from Kentucky seem to know a thing or two about epic rock), but also in the seemingly mellow tunes which touched on everything from reggae riffs (Phone Went West) to easy listening elements (Lowdown) to jazzy romantic ballads (They Ran).

The show inspired that kind of striking-oil-eureka euphoria that a whole well of future musical enjoyment had just been tapped. While I was admittedly less flattened by the next night's show in Philadelphia, I can safely add this band to my list of not-to-be-missed concert experiences, and if you're reading this, you can't say nobody told you. San Francisco, are you listening? A three-night New Years run at the Fillmore. Consider yourselves advised...

You can stream My Morning Jacket's 12.01 Philadelphia show here, and you can also add it to your iPod through the Setbreak.com podcasting system.

Land of Talk at CMJ Music Marathon

The trio of northerly Indie-Rockers known as Land of Talk blew into New York City like a Canadian cold front last week for the CMJ Music Marathon, and then proceeded to heat things up at venues all over the Lower East Side. Their sound simultaneously conjures archival rock like The Pretenders but yet feels as current as the sounds coming out of the Broken Social Scene camp.

The trio offered up a special never-before-attempted-or-rehearsed acoustic performance at White Rabbit on the afternoon of November 2nd, and although the set was as short as any other you may have caught at CMJ this year ("don't blink or you'll miss it" style), Land of Talk sounded as natural acoustic as they do on larger stages.

While the band expressed some uncertainty as to what the drum kit might consist of in this space, the absence of a bass drum was hardly noticeable because of the solid jazz-chops of drummer Bucky Wheaton. Elizabeth Powell's ethereal voice was particularly well-suited to the space, and besides his spot-on harmonies, you may notice in the clip below that multi-talented bass player Chris McCarron somehow manages to sneak in some ironic punchlines on the bass.



You can sample two of the trio's finest songs in their acoustic format here, Seafoam and Summer Special, both of which appear on their album Applause, Cheer, Boo, Hiss. Canadian fans will be treated to a small run of shows with The Dears later this month, and then in December comes a not-to-be-missed pair of shows opening for The Slip, whose long-awaited album Eisenhower is now out and getting unanimous praise. Pick up your copy of this watershed record here.

To keep up to speed on Land of Talk's upcoming dates, visit the Land of Talk MySpace page.

View other CMJ Highlights here:



Earl Greyhound plays "I'm the One" @ Gibson Guitar Showroom - November 1, 2006

Apollo Sunshine @ CMJ Music Marathon

The Wordless Music Series

The Wordless Music Series is a concept developed by Ronen Givony, based on the notion that the sonic worlds of classical and contemporary instrumental music share much more than we would commonly attribute. The series aims to blur the distinction between the two genres by pairing modern rock musicians with classical players, showcasing their talents in solo pieces, as well as in small improvised groups. The inaugural concert was held in September at the Good-Faith Shepherd’s Church near Lincoln Center, and drew a large crowd for two reasons: the first is that Givony aims to keep music accessible to all by pinning ticket prices at less than twenty dollars, and the second reason is that the two rock musicians on this particular evening are current members of the hugely popular Chicago rock outfit, Wilco.



In introducing the series, Givony described how he came to the decision to put together such a series:

“I started working at Lincoln Center about a year and a half ago, and [at that point] I knew next to nothing about classical music. I was talking with one of my colleagues and I asked her, “What is this thing we call chamber music that we are working to perpetuate?” And she thought about it for a minute and she said, “Well, basically it is music played by small groups, in a small intimate room.” And so I said, “That’s funny, I went to the Mercury Lounge last night and saw a trio--a cello, violin, and viola--and there were fifty people there… Is that chamber music?” And she thought about it for a minute, and she said, “I’m not too sure about that.” And so I asked her “Why is that not chamber music?” She answered, “Maybe a shorthand definition of it is that when you are at a concert with your friends, it’s considered acceptable to lean over to your friend and say, “This is a pretty cool concert’, whereas at Carnegie Hall or Lincoln Center, that’s considered less than acceptable”. And the first thing that popped into my head was, “Have you ever been to a Wilco concert in your life?”

So this series is meant to question what it means to have a small group of people in a room playing music…”

View highlights of each performer's solo sets here:



This evening’s show was heavy on sonic distortion, as it featured two eclectic guitar players in the form of Cline and Sharp. While they certainly explored creative sonic landscapes, both their solo pieces and their collaborative efforts were somewhat overwhelming. Their music perhaps should have been pared back to suit the intimate venue, allowing the sound to breathe and resonate more. Jenny Lin’s turn on the piano became a welcome tonic for the ears, and her adept fingers were astounding to witness. Lin plays with a delicate balance of fluidity and force, whether it be on traditional pieces or modern compositions, and she would be well worth catching in any future project.

The highlight of the evening, however, was Glenn Kotche’s percussion adventure tale, “Monkey Chant for Solo Drumkit Projections of (What) Might…” He began this work by retreating to the altar of the church, where sat perhaps 40 small boxes, and he flipped them open one at a time to reveal the delicate chirping of crickets. This created a rich, al fresco undertone for the percussive tale, which involved a princess, a pursuit, and monkeys in the jungle. Kotche is a riveting performer, as he is doing much more up there than simply banging the drums, which you will see in the clip below.

View Glenn Kotche's "Monkey Chant" in its entirety here:

As the first installment in the series, this evening’s music was an adventurous presentation, and while not every piece was sonically pleasing, in the words of Charles Ives, “Beauty in music is too often confused with something that lets the ears lie back in an easy chair”. This is a series with an ambitious goal and future incarnations look promising, with members of Canada's Broken Social Scene lined up for some dates in the spring.

The next installment of the Wordless Music Series will be Wednesday, November 15th, and will feature the Albuquerque multi-instrumental duo “A Hawk and a Hacksaw”; pianist Steven Beck; and, in his first-ever all-instrumental solo violin recital, Andrew Bird.

More Info at: www.wordlessmusic.org