Monday, October 11, 2010
The Paper Chase
The next time someone hands me a rehearsal schedule, I am going to tear it up into tiny bits and casually fling it over my shoulder.
Monday, September 6, 2010
Thursday, August 5, 2010
MORE PICS FROM THE DEVO SHOW IN CLIFTON SPRINGS
Dan shows a tongue full of offerings from the ziti table.
DEVO at Northern Lights in Clifton Park, New York
Devo still looks like Devo but they're much older now. Their planetary crash test dummy appearance - robotic, geeky and punk - has matured into a nostalgic grandfatherly warmth, as familiar and fascinating as your favorite sci-fi flick from childhood.The Northern Lights rock and roll club in Clifton Park, New York, wedged in a suburban shopping plaza between a Family Dollar store and a new-fangled alternative church, served ziti, hot dogs and sausages from a small steam table in the same room Devo took the stage. Somehow, steamed ziti and Devo just don't mix well.
Still it seemed a fitting environment for the return of a band who look like they emerged from the bowels of a chemistry lab. For the record, the server was hot, the hot dog was not.
A curved wall-to-wall video backdrop, typical of Devo shows of the past, projected psychedelic spud boy drama as they opened with the fiery anti-gun plea, "Don't Shoot, I'm A Man", off the recently released SOMETHING FOR EVERYBODY. Mark Mothersbaugh's electrifying synth keypad delivered a spine-tingling ride up and down the musical scale.
Devo marched through their recording career with, notably, several songs off their acclaimed debut from 1978, Q: ARE WE NOT MEN? A: WE ARE DEVO!. "Jocko Homo" spirited the crowd into a marketing dream come true vocal chant, ("We are Devo!"), and the punkish "Mongoloid" gave the hopping audience a dizzying dancing beat. "Uncontrollable Urge", a primitive lust for sex, was raw and beautiful.
"Peek-A-Boo!" from OH NO! IT'S DEVO was as comically evil if a bit more thunderous than ever, with a bass line so heavy and deep I thought my knee caps were going to pop out.
"Gates Of Steel" and "The Girl U Want" along with the title track from FREEDOM OF CHOICE, were perfectly rendered and welcome reminders of a cassette tape I literally wore out back in the day. Their ten minutes of mainstream fame, "Whip It", a chart-topping ode to masturbation, was performed, unlike the rest of the show, without distinction. It was handed to the crowd like a salesman's calling card.
Cover songs, The Rolling Stones' "(I Can't Get No) Satisfaction" and Johnny Rivers' "Secret Agent Man" seemed reborn again with the former sounding positively calypso and "Secret Agent Man" losing a paranoid edge to a wizened resigned maturity - "They've given me a number, and they've taken away my name". "So what, who cares", the song seemed to say.
Musically the band was tight and disciplined and the vocals were as freakishly nasal as ever. They can still hop in unison and play guitar at the same time, and Bob Mothersbuugh's (Mark's brother) lead guitar was fast and fluid. Special mention must be made of younger by comparison drummer Jeff Friedl who led the beat so ferociously you'd think he wrote the music himself.
Booji Boy, a decadent and delightful Devo persona in mask, resembling a walking, talking deformed Kewpie doll, made his obligatory appearance at show's end, interrupting finale "Beautiful World" with a "personal" story about an encounter with the late Michael Jackson. Apparently, Jackson too thought it was a beautiful world. Booji Boy nearly shook a tear from our eye.
They tossed plastic energy dome caps into the audience, ($30 a pop at the Devo marketing table), shook pom-poms like grotesque cheerleaders, ripped the anti-contaminant uniforms off each other, and threw the shredded clothing into the crowd. Gimme, gimme eBay souvenir! They then continued playing in their underwear which was decidedly Devo fashioned.
They saluted, marched, hopped, and pranced all over the stage. There is little doubt these guys are eating their Wheaties. But mostly they rocked, as only a good mongoloid from planet Earth can.
This review was first published by the author at blogcritics.org
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
Todd Rundgren at The Tralf, July 16, 2010
A bartender in the crowded Tralf Music Hall where Todd Rundgren was moments away from taking the stage explained the sweltering heat in the building by saying the sun bakes through the unfortunately placed windows all day making it difficult for the AC to chill the room at night.
Right. Or maybe money dictates the level of that cooler. Baby, it was hot in there.
On stage, Rundgren joked about the warm, heavy air while dousing the sweat off his face with a towel as he and his band delivered a nearly 2-hour blistering guitar led set of blues-great Robert Johnson covers and rock-great Tundgren classics. We were treated to a bright and sunny "I Saw The Light" at show's end.
There were times when the four piece band, infused deeply in the breath of supreme guitar instrumental heaven, sounded as accomplished and tight as any live rock music I have heard in my lifetime. I know Rundgren is a great songwriter, producer and singer. I had forgotten he is also a great guitarist.
I swear, the next time I intend to tell the world how I felt about a Todd Rundgren show, via online review, I will take notes. On this hot summer night, I was too busy dancing and drinking warm beer to offer a comprehensive account of the evening. Is this a German import or a Bud Light?
I can tell you this - Rundgren cooled a hot room. And then sizzled it. "Soul Brother" was particularly soooooo fine!
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