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).

Believe in the ways of magic...

Many options abound for Gotham denizens when it comes to the New Years countdown, and this year was no exception. While some people still opt to watch the ball drop in Times Square for some godforsaken reason, music is the top priority for me, thus I had no fewer than 4 stops on my schedule on NYE.

But when the countdown began, I opted for the Mercury Lounge to hear Earl Greyhound deliver their first cover tune (or at least, first cover tune of the modern Ricc Sheridan-era). Days earlier, guitar-slinger Matt Whyte had intimated to me, "It's the perfect song for us right now," which started my hamster on its jukebox wheel, but all my guesses were way off. When the midnight bassline introduced "You Make Loving Fun", I was surprised and delighted, but was perhaps more surprised by the fact that I had my face melted right off by a Fleetwood Mac cover. I hope 2008 is full of similar satisfying surprises...

Thanks to the shooting skills of Danielle Lurie, you can see it for yourself here:



That wasn't the only surprise from the ever-rockin' Brooklyn trio. They bravely offered up some acoustic numbers penned by Whyte, a bold gift for a crowd expecting a heavy dose of rock n' roll on a rowdy night. But the ditties they chose were well-received, and featured a side of Whyte and Thomas that most EG fans wouldn't know existed unless they had frequented the HonkyTonk Happy Hour. "Black Sea Vacation" is a song Whyte wrote for a rock-opera Thomas produced in April of 2006 called "Bulgaria". Even more surprising was the delivery of a beautiful children's song written by Whyte called "This Tree" (which he modestly ascribes to be a rip-off of a Dylan Thomas poem), a tune they played at the request of mighty drummer Ricc Sheridan. While it may not be everyone's cup of tea (Earl Grey or otherwise), these acoustic selections revealed a depth of rich musical talent that most hard-rock bands could only hope to reach.

Once they began rocking-face again, the trio played a promising new song based on their trip to Japan, and to my delight, they are finally letting audiences revel in the glory of the finest song they've written to date: "The Ghost and The Witness". If you think their "Monkey" is thundering, just you wait...

If the softer side of the Greyhound caught your fancy, you will want to be sure to catch the next three Sundays at the Living Room, where the HonkyTonk Happy Hour will be making its much-awaited return. This is the forum where Thomas and Whyte play country classics with some of New York City's finest; a gang so good they're being featured in an upcoming documentary, and word is that son-of-Waylon Shooter Jennings will be making the rounds, so there will be some roots royalty around. Pretty sweet way to rock off your new year, y'all.

Is there anyone cooler in rock n' roll right now than Neil?

The King of the one-note solo reigns supreme in my book. I was enthralled with the show Neil put on at the United Palace in mid-December: the two-set theatrics were well worth the triple-digit ticket price, and I wouldn't normally endorse cashing a Ben Franklin for entry to a rock concert.

But Neil is a different story: I wish I had seen all six nights at the opulent Harlem venue (okay, maybe just three, but one outing with Mr. Young was clearly not enough). The first set featured Neil wandering around the carefully-cluttered stage amongst his musical toys, a set of keys on each side of the stage and a ring of guitars hovering in the middle.

Acoustically, he delivered some unexpected favorites of mine such as the poignant and political Campaigner (inserting George Bush for Richard Nixon in the latter half of the song), the pure acoustic perfection of Out On The Weekend, and the epic A Man Needs A Maid.

Each song was announced with the arrival of a piece of art on the side stage, featuring the song's title rendered in a painting, a theatrical touch that enhanced the magnificence of the set he played in. The second set featured some heavy rock numbers made all the more raucous by a clearly liberated and perhaps inebriated frontman, with a particularly lengthy (bordering on extenuating) jam during No Hidden Path. Electric highlights included Everybody Knows This is Nowhere, and I was personally humbled to hear Oh, Lonesome Me warbled to perfection, as well as the awesome ditty Winterlong. See the clip below to see a segment of the second-set Cortez Jam complete with propeller fan, Neil's heavy-footed jam-dance, and that unmistakable tone that simultaneously hammers and sheers notes with its raw energy:





It was an honour (Canadian spelling in honour of NY, y'all) to hear the 2007 renditions of these songs from the beautiful, ragged pipes of Neil at 63: the messages of his songs are eerily still relevant, which at once thrills because of his acuity in penning such gems, and yet chills because many of the haunting warnings of his words have still not been heeded. His songs are timeless, his shakey-shakey voice is peerless, and he is a living legend of rock n' roll.

p.s. Because I said I would blog-tattle, I might as well follow through: it should be noted that a certain Relix staff member had the audacity to counsel me to avoid the lengthy bathroom lines by "leaving during the jams", and further, his advice was delivered while drinking a can of Coca-cola--with a straw! Whatever happened to rock n' roll, I ask you! I think you can be fired for those sorts of things. Not that I'm going to name names, here...

Tea Leaf Reed's alright with me

The news that Reed Mathis would be stepping in to fill Ben Chambers' shoes in Tea Leaf Green was slightly befuddling to me at first, if only because the news came to me in the form of Marco Benevento enthusiastically belting "Tea Leaf Reed!" to me over a pre-show dinner in Woodstock, NY on the weekend. But once I garnered the facts, I was in full support of the union.

Reed will add some incredible depth to a lineup that that is in need of this kind of injection of sonic originality. Tea Leaf Green has developed a sound that is straight-ahead and rather predictable, but that is not to say they haven't crafted their own distinct sound. I was most impressed to have caught their all-acoustic performance at Mo Pitkin's earlier this fall, and the country-funk vibe came through just beautifully unplugged. I would take an acoustic TLG show over a boisterous frat-boy sell-out at Irving Plaza any day, but now that Reed is on the scene, I will happily get up front to hear some of the amazing basslines that he will spew forth. He will bring only good energy to the band and their sound, and I applaud his bold move to expand on musical horizons. The backlash indicates that perhaps jam fans aren't as ready to think outside the box as they think they are, and Reed's response only indicates what a beautiful human being he is:

"music CAN be a force for unification and community. why are the differences between us our favorite thing about ourselves? why do we want coltrane INSTEAD of the rolling stones. why not coltrane AND the rolling stones? do people need music? if so, what do they need it to do?"

Reed brings up a lot of pertinent questions, and I agree with him when he says this is an important conversation to have. Enjoy the full spectrum of Mr. Mathis' musings here.

And speaking of getting outside the box, the Benevento/Russo Duo invited Brad Barr on a 3-night run in the Northeast this past weekend, and it didn't take long for the trio's sound to convince me that this should be the new band... Their show at the lovely Bearsville Theatre was a heady affair indeed, with Brad providing a whole new level of ethereal range to the Duo's jams. The jams in Woodstock all became quietly intimate and intense, and were just a beautiful antithesis to the Duo jams I've come to recognize. Three sets of ears onstage were wide open, and with the crowd politely following suit, it made for one of the most enjoyable evenings of music in recent memory... (Okay, I confess that the occasional appearance of two guitars onstage was just a small bonus... a little slice of guitar-mony heaven for me).

The following night took the trio to Northhampton, MA where the energy was the polar opposite: the Duo were back up to their typical aural intensity and the crowd had gusto to match. I was behind the camera for this show, so stay tuned for the highlights. Having The Slip's frontman sit-in only enhanced the Duo's dynamic, and it underlines the importance for musicians to keep it fresh.

And while we're on the topic of fresh... sample a sneak peak of Marco Benevento's new album featuring Reed Mathis and Andrew Barr/Matt Chamberlain here. Beware: The Real Morning Party will set up camp in your phonological loop and stay there all day. Album will be out on Hyena Records in January!

Flashing forward, flashing back.

Anyone hankering for a cozy campfire vibe will be happy to know that highlights from Nathan Moore and Brad Barr's acoustic set at Pete's Candy Store are now finding their way onto YouTube. It was the perfect capper to a dizzying wedding weekend that had these boys playing music continuously in various capacities-- as Surprise Me Mr Davis, then as the tastiest wedding band on earth, and finally as a duo at Pete's in Williamsburg. There's not much I need to say about this amazing show that isn't readily apparent in the clips, so I'll let the songwriting and musicianship speak for itself on this haunting version of "Hollow" by Nathan Moore, followed by the pair's swoon-a-licious rendition of "Lost Man in a Foreign Country".



Check out Nathan's new album In His Own Worlds... and get yourself to the left coast early December to catch the delightful Davis experience in Northern Cali. You might just want to bring along your French-English dictionary...


Another nugget you might have missed in the Big Apple this fall is Do Make Say Think's powerful performance at the Wordless Music Series.



The Wordless Music Series is off to an amazing start this season, having just hosted a back-to-back Mum weekend, and a brilliant show from Grizzly Bear, whose drawing power is great enough to draw Paul Simon out to hear their rendition of Graceland. Word is that Feist recommended the Brooklyn-based quartet to Mr Simon. The Wordless Series will be featuring Jonny Greenwood's (Radiohead) debut of the Popcorn Superhet Receiver in January and there's talk of David Byrne doing a show in the spring.

Monuments frontman Gabe Berezin threw quite a party in DUMBO this past weekend, all in the heady name of Kurt Vonnegut. It featured some great performances from Suzan Hurtuk and All the Tired Horses, and of course from Monuments themselves. If you've never heard the math-y magic of Monuments, get ye to Trash Bar Nov 16th to get your first taste. Stay tuned for clips of the Vonnegut tribute...

And lastly, how's this for awesome: Smyer just released their debut album and they're making it available for FREE DOWNLOAD here... In the always-apt words of Gordon Hartin, "There are some things you can't download. Like a coca-cola. Music is already out there being downloaded, so we're giving it to the people and hoping it will translate into them coming to our shows." So do it-- on December 7th at the CD Release party at the Crash Mansion. And since you'll have downloaded the album already, you will know all the songs and feel like the coolest kid on the block.

Some got six months, some got one solid year...

Yep, it happened. The Red Devil made an appearance with Phil & Friends at the site of Phish's hallowed 10.31.94 "White Album" performance in upstate New York on the weekend, and it was... lots and lots of fun.

The first set was absolute candy to my Honky-tonk-ified ears, opening with Alabama Getaway and then doing the country-funk junket through Deal, Friend of the Devil, Deep Elem Blues, and Bertha. The purity of Trey's tone was instantly apparant-- I'm not sure I have ever heard such clean tone in my life. It was like someone had just poured Drano in my ears and I was hearing the unadulterated intention behind each note. If that is what sobriety sounds like, I hope the School of Rock has AA meetings for all their shredders-to-be out there, because the double-rainbows and autumn fireworks that accompanied the ride upstate could not compete with that glorious tone (dueling deliciously with the amazing Larry Campbell). The 4-hour trip from the city was worth it for the "Why don't you arrest me..." alone.



Click above to see a clip from Bird Song...

The second set was a very different vibe, with Trey's attention turned less on the performers around him and focused more on the audience in the depths of the old-school Glens Falls Civic Center. He clearly felt more comfortable taking the lead this set, and the combination of the jammy song-selection (including two of Trey's own, Shine and Plasma) meant that at times this set felt a little spacey, awash in recurring tides of Viola Lee Blues> Cumberland> Viola Lee> Cumberland > Viola... you get the picture. And things didn't get any less-jammy when Dark Star and Wharf Rat made their appearance.

Not that I'm complaining: I've been known to enjoy a jam here and there in my 3 decades, and I'd have to be a pretty big Debbie-Downer to poo-poo a Dark Star jam. C'mon. For my part, I simply thought Trey could have returned some of his focus to his support team up there. But closing out the set with Help> Slip> Frank, well, see, that's just yummy.

Conclusion: Trey sounds/looks/is as clean as clean can be. So is it time to start hoping for a reunion? I'll owe my mother $500 if it happens, but I'm readying to hear her "I told you so..." when I tell her I'm going to see Phish next year for New years.

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.

Hippie, heal thyself.

Next time you find yourself wiggling and thrashing at Webster Hall, give yourself a pat on the back because you're likely doing your body a great deal of good, according to Bradford Keeney. Keeney is a psychotherapist who is also considered a shaman in several different cultures. Keeney points out that meditation was once viewed as outlandish, but is now considered an acceptable form of treatment to deal with stress. "But the relaxation response, from Asian wisdom, is only part of the equation. Healing also comes from the arousal response, from African wisdom," he says in an interview (Ode Magazine).

His study of the healing practices of the Bushman people of the Kalahari Desert was summed up in his book, Shaking Medicine. Keeney noted that when people come to Bushman doctors with physcal or mental ailments, oftentimes they are prescribed a night of dancing and drumming. The healer will hang on to the patient as he dances around a fire, trying to move energy around his system until the patient enters a state of deep relaxation, similar to the calm induced by meditation.


If you needed more proof that Keeney is a strong ally in your quest to justify your jamband jones, consider that he is also the man who brought us the book Bushman Shaman: Awakening the Spirit through Ecstatic Dance. "Music and dance can get us back in touch with ourselves," he says.


Sounds like we'd best increase the shake, rattle, and roll in our daily diets, everybody. Doctor's orders.

Where were you twenty years ago?

Probably not at The Ranch, but maybe this video will make you wish you were:



5 things I liked about this:

1. It features Shaggy Trey at his shaggiest;

2. It features dogs;

3. The cameraman's penchant for scoping girls seems to take precedent over capturing the jam;

4. The rooftop antelopes toward the end of the clip;

5. Mike's mop fighting with the wind is like watching a 70's carpet in a small hurricane.

Ain't no mountain high enough...

Just a little proof that not all of the music I see can be traced back to JamBase... some of the best songs I heard this summer rang out between 13,000 - 19,000 feet beneath the Snows of Kilimanjaro (which, since you asked, indeed are receding at an alarming rate...)


With plenty-o-packs on their backs but no musical instruments, the amazing guides & porters of Berg Adventures make the most of their voices in the jam-tastic celebration they offer each day as weary hikers arrive at camp. Despite having tired legs and varying degrees of altitude sickness, it's nearly impossible not to smile when you're greeted with this kind of love...

It just doesn't get any yummier than this.

Good news for New York: Kamara Thomas is on 'Earl Greyhound vacation', albeit a short one, which means that Big Apple denizens are getting treated to a bountiful slate of yumminess as she performs (on a seemingly almost-nightly basis) with her band, 'Larune'.

Thomas performed with Gordon Hartin and Serena Southam in a stripped-down version of Larune in Williamsburg at Sound Fix, and delivered some of the most incredible renditions of songs like 'Texas' and 'You Call Everybody Baby' that yours truly has ever witnessed. (You can sample those songs here...) The crowd in this fantastic new music space was held absolutely rapt as she and Gordon delivered tasty duets. (Sidenote: if you haven't caught Widower yet, you're too late, because they're moving to Seattle, but you can still check out their incredible sound here...)


Last night, Larune had a more robust lineup of happy Honkytonkers as they played to a packed house at The Living Room. Witness crooning at its finest below, featuring the velveteen vocals of Thomas, Serena Jean, Amal Bouhabib, and Suzan Hurtuk, as the lovely ladies share "Novena".




In true Honky Tonk fashion, Gordon Hartin supplies the sweet slide guitar, and Matt Whyte swaps up the Les Paul he shreds in Earl Greyhound for the softer sounds of an acoustic six string and occasionally the keys. Thomas has penned some truly dazzling ditties over the years, and you are as likely to stomp your feet and sing along as you are to wipe tears from your eyes. You can sample two of her finest songs here: My Kentucky and Slow Sally.

Be sure to catch Larune performing this Sunday at The Living Room with Periodic Label-mates Gabe Berezin (doing an acoustic Monuments session), Vaughn Montgomery, and Basement Band. And for that matter, be sure to check out all the incredible acts on the Periodic Label calendar, as this a a family of talented musicians who are well worth whiling away your summer nights with.

Page McConnell at the Fillmore/ Irving

It's a lesson we learn again and again: having expectations will generally hamper the event, and having none will almost always enhance the experience.

I had not even been planning on seeing Page's show on Monday evening at the venue formerly known as Irving, and thus a last minute phone call and generous offer (merci beaucoup, Sir Scotland) prompted me to come into Manhattan to see what Page would offer up.

The first thing I noticed (and loved) was the small but healthy crowd, which made maneuvering the normally-packed main floor a breeze. The next thing I noticed (and loved) was the swirly, shiny announcement raining down from the lightboard... yes, Chris Kuroda was in the house and providing free flashbacks for anyone who had seen that other band Page used to play with back in the day.

With those two factors duly noted, I turned my attention to the man on the keys, did a swift check of his band (all new faces to me), and took in a set that included most of the new material from Page's latest album. Which translates to, I nodded my head, I danced a bit, I yawned once or twice (and truth be told, rolled my eyes a bit during Maid Marion... I mean, c'mon Page, 'I'm not marryin' Maid Marion'? I think you can do better than that...).

But just as I was starting to think the set was going to be nothing beyond 'a pleasant way to spend Monday evening', things got cookin' toward the end of the set. 'Beauty of a Broken Heart' crescendo-ed into a wonderfully aweseome bubble bath of yum, with a peak reminiscent of (yes) that other band Page played with back in the day. Perhaps it was simply a matter of the band members finding their groove, but it sure would be nice if more of Page's new material were engingeered for this kind of peak-potential, because it was truly ear-to-ear-grin great.

Once all that goodness had been unleashed, he closed the set with a song that I can't believe isn't covered more often, 'Monkey Man', and floored the already-jubilant crowd. And then, to cap off that fierce double-header, he encored with his jazzy gem, 'Cars, Trucks, Buses' and cemented the feel-good euphoria we all took home that night. Was I expecting to take home a loot bag of smiles? Hell, no. But I'm glad I went in with the sole intention of being mildly amused, as I left rooting for a musician with whom I felt I'd lost touch. Nice catching up with you, Mr. McConnell. Hope to see you again... soon.