How to Green Your Sex Life
Wednesday, October 31, 2007
Upcoming Show: Dr. Dog
Hailing from Philadelphia, this barely kindergarten aged band, is now on tour for their 2nd album, We All Belong, available here
11/9/07
only $14
Dr. Dog @ the Bowery Ballroom, located at 6 Delancey St.
Save on the bogus ticket master charges & buy yours at the Mercury Lounge Box Office located at 217 E. Houston St. (corner Ave A & Houston); offices open from 10-7pm Monday-Saturday
Review to follow the mayhem which will surely ensue...
Dr. Dog's Official Website
Dr.Dog's Myspace page
-Ninja Courtney
11/9/07
only $14
Dr. Dog @ the Bowery Ballroom, located at 6 Delancey St.
Save on the bogus ticket master charges & buy yours at the Mercury Lounge Box Office located at 217 E. Houston St. (corner Ave A & Houston); offices open from 10-7pm Monday-Saturday
Review to follow the mayhem which will surely ensue...
Dr. Dog's Official Website
Dr.Dog's Myspace page
-Ninja Courtney
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
Clare & The Reasons - Brooklyn, NY
Ninja: Jonathan Daniel
When one first presses play on The Movie, the debut release from Clare & The Reasons, his/her first reaction might be to compare Clare Muldaur’s voice to that of any of the great jazz singers from the Golden Age of music. One might also be tempted to compare the band’s instrumentation to that of Sufjan Stevens’ work. It is also possible that this person would even compare the musical arrangements (excuse me if I overstep my bounds) to that of a Mozart composition, or the tone choices and chord changes to the new Wilco album. However, if this person happened to be you, you would be wrong.
Now, I don’t mean to say that Clare & The Reasons don’t take inspiration from every crevice, corner, and vast open space of music history, or even that they don’t possess similarities to any of these artists - in fact, I think quite the contrary. What I am aiming to say is that it is nearly impossible to pin their music down into one specific genre: they combine as many influences as they can without turning each song into a complete mess (see: TV on the Radio’s Return to Cookie Mountain).
I first heard Clare sing at a performance - of let’s call it experimental classical music - put on by her husband, Olivier Manchon (Olivier also plays violin for The Reasons while at the same time specializing in the recorder and glockenspiel, and occasionally sitting behind the piano or wielding an acoustic guitar or musical saw to accompany his wife). That night, I was intrigued by both her voice and Olivier’s arrangements, but unfortunately did not have a chance to hear them play again until just recently when they graced the small stage of Rockwood Music Hall on New York’s Lower East Side.
I recognized most of The Reasons from Olivier’s performance, and was pleased to note the upright bass, cello, violin, viola, grand piano, electric guitar, and acoustic guitar strategically placed on the stage so that the musicians could play every band’s favorite game – “let’s see how many people we can fit on this small-ass stage”. Once Clare and her five Reasons had taken their places, the audience drew immediately quiet – they were ready to listen. For the following hour, the only sound in the small room was that of the band’s intricately woven instrumental melodies, with Clare laying down her voice as the maraschino cherry sitting atop a hot brownie sundae.
As usual I had no cash so I couldn’t purchase the album that night, and despite my attempts at bartering an empty glass of whisky and an ice cube for a copy, I went home empty handed. Nevertheless, I was determined to have the necessary $12 on me the upcoming Saturday, when they played at SoundFix in “Williamscool”, Brooklyn. I was so determined that I chose not to drink that night, and instead attended the show alone in the half-record store/half-bar venue.
Again, the moment it was clear they were ready to begin, a hush fell over the (this time much larger) crowd and those who failed to silence themselves were shushed before the first measure had been completed. I knew then that, beyond my own infatuation, this band had something special. No matter the venue - whether large or small, light or dark, crowded or empty (although so far always crowded), Clare & The Reasons commanded the attention of every single soul seated or standing in the room. Those who had heard them before quietly appreciated the fact that each musician is equally as talented in person as they are on the recordings, and those who were experiencing them for the first time slowly but surely realized the same.
Now, you may say that I give them too much adulation, and perhaps I do, but it has been a very long time since I have enjoyed a band this much, and so consistently to boot. Not only do they combine influences taken from nearly every genre of music, and not only do they possess the talent to do this, but they also make beautiful, catchy music that will not fail to put a smile on your face. Let’s call it classical jazz with a twist of rock n’ roll.
Highlights of seeing them live are similar to those of the album, including the more upbeat songs Pluto and Rodi, but also the slower ballads Love Can Be A Crime and Alphabet City. On the album are a couple of hidden gems that I am yet to hear them play live, a particular favorite of mine being Go Back. Played live are a couple others not featured on the album, the most memorable holding the title Why, Why Why, an old fashioned love song sung as a duet by Clare and the bass player, Alan Sherwood, which proves that the individuals in the band take themselves far less seriously than they do their music.
So go take a listen to them. I think you'll like what they do.
When one first presses play on The Movie, the debut release from Clare & The Reasons, his/her first reaction might be to compare Clare Muldaur’s voice to that of any of the great jazz singers from the Golden Age of music. One might also be tempted to compare the band’s instrumentation to that of Sufjan Stevens’ work. It is also possible that this person would even compare the musical arrangements (excuse me if I overstep my bounds) to that of a Mozart composition, or the tone choices and chord changes to the new Wilco album. However, if this person happened to be you, you would be wrong.
Now, I don’t mean to say that Clare & The Reasons don’t take inspiration from every crevice, corner, and vast open space of music history, or even that they don’t possess similarities to any of these artists - in fact, I think quite the contrary. What I am aiming to say is that it is nearly impossible to pin their music down into one specific genre: they combine as many influences as they can without turning each song into a complete mess (see: TV on the Radio’s Return to Cookie Mountain).
I first heard Clare sing at a performance - of let’s call it experimental classical music - put on by her husband, Olivier Manchon (Olivier also plays violin for The Reasons while at the same time specializing in the recorder and glockenspiel, and occasionally sitting behind the piano or wielding an acoustic guitar or musical saw to accompany his wife). That night, I was intrigued by both her voice and Olivier’s arrangements, but unfortunately did not have a chance to hear them play again until just recently when they graced the small stage of Rockwood Music Hall on New York’s Lower East Side.
I recognized most of The Reasons from Olivier’s performance, and was pleased to note the upright bass, cello, violin, viola, grand piano, electric guitar, and acoustic guitar strategically placed on the stage so that the musicians could play every band’s favorite game – “let’s see how many people we can fit on this small-ass stage”. Once Clare and her five Reasons had taken their places, the audience drew immediately quiet – they were ready to listen. For the following hour, the only sound in the small room was that of the band’s intricately woven instrumental melodies, with Clare laying down her voice as the maraschino cherry sitting atop a hot brownie sundae.
As usual I had no cash so I couldn’t purchase the album that night, and despite my attempts at bartering an empty glass of whisky and an ice cube for a copy, I went home empty handed. Nevertheless, I was determined to have the necessary $12 on me the upcoming Saturday, when they played at SoundFix in “Williamscool”, Brooklyn. I was so determined that I chose not to drink that night, and instead attended the show alone in the half-record store/half-bar venue.
Again, the moment it was clear they were ready to begin, a hush fell over the (this time much larger) crowd and those who failed to silence themselves were shushed before the first measure had been completed. I knew then that, beyond my own infatuation, this band had something special. No matter the venue - whether large or small, light or dark, crowded or empty (although so far always crowded), Clare & The Reasons commanded the attention of every single soul seated or standing in the room. Those who had heard them before quietly appreciated the fact that each musician is equally as talented in person as they are on the recordings, and those who were experiencing them for the first time slowly but surely realized the same.
Now, you may say that I give them too much adulation, and perhaps I do, but it has been a very long time since I have enjoyed a band this much, and so consistently to boot. Not only do they combine influences taken from nearly every genre of music, and not only do they possess the talent to do this, but they also make beautiful, catchy music that will not fail to put a smile on your face. Let’s call it classical jazz with a twist of rock n’ roll.
Highlights of seeing them live are similar to those of the album, including the more upbeat songs Pluto and Rodi, but also the slower ballads Love Can Be A Crime and Alphabet City. On the album are a couple of hidden gems that I am yet to hear them play live, a particular favorite of mine being Go Back. Played live are a couple others not featured on the album, the most memorable holding the title Why, Why Why, an old fashioned love song sung as a duet by Clare and the bass player, Alan Sherwood, which proves that the individuals in the band take themselves far less seriously than they do their music.
So go take a listen to them. I think you'll like what they do.
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
Lap-top Liberation In Rainbows
10.25.2007 by Miguel Castro
FROM
TO
As the music industry tries to salvage itself by suing pre-teens and attempting to establish a death grip over the Mp3 format, Radiohead has greased things up for major record labels.
How?
Because they don’t belong to one.
Authenticity has kept Radiohead one click left of being regarded as a full blown rock band. But somewhere between sad-bastard howls and landscape melodies, there lies intelligent design. And now, with the release of In Rainbows, a once a divisive and experimental hit-or-miss with audiences has become an aural enterprise that we can all stand behind.
Why?
Because they’ll let you pay whatever you want for their new album.
Rather than simply sticking with what works, Thom Yorke and his band of electronic troubadours have continued to push their own envelope. Since 1993 they have used each album as a step in their own evolution. Radiohead has been able to succeed where many have failed: A positive correlation between an increase in uniquity and popularity.
Their new album is no exception. The sonic evolution from Hail to the Thief (2003) to the 2007 release In Rainbows sounds as natural as the transition of monkey to man. Hundreds of subtle changes and adaptations over the past four years have brought this quiet storm into full bodied British thunder. But what’s more is that they have positioned themselves to become the revolutionaries of modern music.
When EMI’s contract with Radiohead expired in 2003, it made them the most popular free agent in the industry. For a group of guys who know how to rock a lap-top, this allowed them an opportunity to tout their big experimental balls.
On September 30th, John Greenwood announced the new album on the band’s blog. Set for release on October 10th, Radiohead cut out the middle-man, created a web page called InRainbows.com and launched their album from Greenwood’s kitchen – allowing fans to download the whole album for whatever price they want.
Greenwood told Rolling Stone Magazine,
Sound crazy?
It’s not.
The band stands to make more money than they ever would have under a contract, regardless of how much each fan chooses to pay for the album. More importantly, it establishes Radiohead as the peoples champion, the Anti-Metallica. We finally have a true contender in the fight for musical liberation.
Is the album good? I wouldn’t know. I don’t really listen to Radiohead.
But now I have good reason to.
FROM
TO
As the music industry tries to salvage itself by suing pre-teens and attempting to establish a death grip over the Mp3 format, Radiohead has greased things up for major record labels.
How?
Because they don’t belong to one.
Authenticity has kept Radiohead one click left of being regarded as a full blown rock band. But somewhere between sad-bastard howls and landscape melodies, there lies intelligent design. And now, with the release of In Rainbows, a once a divisive and experimental hit-or-miss with audiences has become an aural enterprise that we can all stand behind.
Why?
Because they’ll let you pay whatever you want for their new album.
Rather than simply sticking with what works, Thom Yorke and his band of electronic troubadours have continued to push their own envelope. Since 1993 they have used each album as a step in their own evolution. Radiohead has been able to succeed where many have failed: A positive correlation between an increase in uniquity and popularity.
Their new album is no exception. The sonic evolution from Hail to the Thief (2003) to the 2007 release In Rainbows sounds as natural as the transition of monkey to man. Hundreds of subtle changes and adaptations over the past four years have brought this quiet storm into full bodied British thunder. But what’s more is that they have positioned themselves to become the revolutionaries of modern music.
When EMI’s contract with Radiohead expired in 2003, it made them the most popular free agent in the industry. For a group of guys who know how to rock a lap-top, this allowed them an opportunity to tout their big experimental balls.
On September 30th, John Greenwood announced the new album on the band’s blog. Set for release on October 10th, Radiohead cut out the middle-man, created a web page called InRainbows.com and launched their album from Greenwood’s kitchen – allowing fans to download the whole album for whatever price they want.
Greenwood told Rolling Stone Magazine,
"We’re feeling a bit dazed from it all…It’s so mad that you can sit in your kitchen and launch this insanity…but [the album] seems to have gotten
everywhere."
Sound crazy?
It’s not.
The band stands to make more money than they ever would have under a contract, regardless of how much each fan chooses to pay for the album. More importantly, it establishes Radiohead as the peoples champion, the Anti-Metallica. We finally have a true contender in the fight for musical liberation.
Is the album good? I wouldn’t know. I don’t really listen to Radiohead.
But now I have good reason to.
Peter Bjorn and John
See me and Julio down by the school yard...
http://joespub.com/caltool/nicemedia/audio/Peter%20Bjorn%20and%20John%20-%20Me%20and%20Julio%20Down%20by%20the%20Schoolyard.mp3
Friday, October 19, 2007
Kings of Leon at Charlottesville Pavilion 9.26.2007
Listen to “Because of the Times” Because of the Sound
The Charlottesville Pavilion is a great place for bands to jam and especially tonight. The warm September night sets the stage for an enjoyable, carefree evening where work, soured relationships, and tomorrow’s midterm seem unnecessary. Leading up to the Pavilion entrance is a brick promenade lined with antique looking stores, restaurants and outdoor seating that mimic a European plaza. The Pavilion has stadium seating with lawn seating in the back. The music of the opening act, Black Rebel Motorcycle Club, fills the air and permeates the nearby neighborhoods. I’m seated outside a local bar waiting for Kings of Leon to take the stage; that’s our cue to close out our tabs and open new ones within the Pavilion parameters.
I had started to seriously question the future of rock and roll until I heard Kings of Leon. The southern bred quartet reminds listeners not to confuse Nickelback for true rock and roll. My affinity for rock and roll started with Tracy Chapman and Jackson Brown vinyl. I’d sit next to the record player flipping sides until I fell asleep and awoke to the sound of the needle ticking.
My first introduction to my generation’s music was an Ace of Base tape and the rewind function of walkman. Next came “Jagged Little Pill” in CD form and with the ability to skip there was no need to listen to all the songs. Technology didn’t make music better, just more convenient. The beauty of the record player is that there isn’t a shuffle, repeat, fast forward or rewind function. I’d listen to the whole album tell a story.
The smell and feel of vinyl is lost on a culture obsessed with singles, diets and packaging everything in plastic. However, Kings of Leon’s latest album, “Because of the Times,” is a refreshing divergence from the whining punk-rock anthem of an over-privileged audience and seemingly self-loathing musicians. They are reminiscent of the 1970’s when bands didn’t make music to cater to the largest market segment, but rather focused on originality and making music for the sake of music.
Think men in tights (actually more like testicular strangulating blue jeans) singing nonsensical lyrics similar of Moody Blues with the rock and roll sound of the Rolling Stones. Kings of Leon are appreciated by an audience whose affection for rock and roll has taken its toll much like water prunes the skin after a long hot shower. These are the people I enjoy being around most. The younger folk crowd the front of the stage hoping that one of the performers will throw a piece of equipment, which they frequently do. I have a white John Pearse guitar pic that a fellow concertgoer I’d been eye fucking all evening caught for me.
Their sound is rooted in lead vocalist, Caleb Followill’s, ability to narrate the guitar riffs. Rather than using his Steven Tyler-esque histrionics to dominate, there is a balance between the music and vocals, in a dialogue that doesn’t require a response. The lyrical story unfolds with tempo changes, backup vocalists and electronic/acoustic variations. “On Call” and “True Love Way” illustrate the bands ability to fuse slow baseline development with bursts of rock punctuated by their southern twang.
“Ragoo” breaks from the bluesy tunes and tambourine calamity of the 2005 album “Aha Shake Heartbreak.” On their website, http://www.kingsofleon.com/home, drummer Nathan Followill describes their growth. "We weren't scared to try anything. I think that's the difference between this album and the last. We weren't timid at all. Every song showed us something we had inside of ourselves that we didn't know existed, which enabled us to be even bolder on the next song," said Followill.
“Because of the Times” is a testament to the versatile musicianship of Kings of Leon. They break from the structure of pop music (two lines, chorus, two lines) in favor of patterns, rhythms, and silences that create mystery in songs like “Knocked up.” The quieter moments allow listener appreciation for the individual contributions from the rhythm guitar, bass and drums.
The band entertained for two hours without much improvisation and none of the performers, all of whom are related (2 brothers and 2 cousins), interrupts the music with conversation. The audience doesn’t seem to mind. They sing along with “Knocked Up,” cheer when “Milk” begins, and chant for “Ragoo.” “Ragoo” is the only song they don’t play from “Because of the Times;” they didn’t play it in Washington D.C. the week before nor in Baltimore the following week. A few songs from the previous album, “Aha Shake Heartbreak” make the cut and the audience is satiated.
Kings of Leon represents the difference between good because it’s popular and being popular because it’s great. Perhaps I can look forward to my children discovering this hidden treasure in my itunes collection.
The Charlottesville Pavilion is a great place for bands to jam and especially tonight. The warm September night sets the stage for an enjoyable, carefree evening where work, soured relationships, and tomorrow’s midterm seem unnecessary. Leading up to the Pavilion entrance is a brick promenade lined with antique looking stores, restaurants and outdoor seating that mimic a European plaza. The Pavilion has stadium seating with lawn seating in the back. The music of the opening act, Black Rebel Motorcycle Club, fills the air and permeates the nearby neighborhoods. I’m seated outside a local bar waiting for Kings of Leon to take the stage; that’s our cue to close out our tabs and open new ones within the Pavilion parameters. I had started to seriously question the future of rock and roll until I heard Kings of Leon. The southern bred quartet reminds listeners not to confuse Nickelback for true rock and roll. My affinity for rock and roll started with Tracy Chapman and Jackson Brown vinyl. I’d sit next to the record player flipping sides until I fell asleep and awoke to the sound of the needle ticking.
My first introduction to my generation’s music was an Ace of Base tape and the rewind function of walkman. Next came “Jagged Little Pill” in CD form and with the ability to skip there was no need to listen to all the songs. Technology didn’t make music better, just more convenient. The beauty of the record player is that there isn’t a shuffle, repeat, fast forward or rewind function. I’d listen to the whole album tell a story.
The smell and feel of vinyl is lost on a culture obsessed with singles, diets and packaging everything in plastic. However, Kings of Leon’s latest album, “Because of the Times,” is a refreshing divergence from the whining punk-rock anthem of an over-privileged audience and seemingly self-loathing musicians. They are reminiscent of the 1970’s when bands didn’t make music to cater to the largest market segment, but rather focused on originality and making music for the sake of music.
Think men in tights (actually more like testicular strangulating blue jeans) singing nonsensical lyrics similar of Moody Blues with the rock and roll sound of the Rolling Stones. Kings of Leon are appreciated by an audience whose affection for rock and roll has taken its toll much like water prunes the skin after a long hot shower. These are the people I enjoy being around most. The younger folk crowd the front of the stage hoping that one of the performers will throw a piece of equipment, which they frequently do. I have a white John Pearse guitar pic that a fellow concertgoer I’d been eye fucking all evening caught for me.
Their sound is rooted in lead vocalist, Caleb Followill’s, ability to narrate the guitar riffs. Rather than using his Steven Tyler-esque histrionics to dominate, there is a balance between the music and vocals, in a dialogue that doesn’t require a response. The lyrical story unfolds with tempo changes, backup vocalists and electronic/acoustic variations. “On Call” and “True Love Way” illustrate the bands ability to fuse slow baseline development with bursts of rock punctuated by their southern twang.
“Ragoo” breaks from the bluesy tunes and tambourine calamity of the 2005 album “Aha Shake Heartbreak.” On their website, http://www.kingsofleon.com/home, drummer Nathan Followill describes their growth. "We weren't scared to try anything. I think that's the difference between this album and the last. We weren't timid at all. Every song showed us something we had inside of ourselves that we didn't know existed, which enabled us to be even bolder on the next song," said Followill.
“Because of the Times” is a testament to the versatile musicianship of Kings of Leon. They break from the structure of pop music (two lines, chorus, two lines) in favor of patterns, rhythms, and silences that create mystery in songs like “Knocked up.” The quieter moments allow listener appreciation for the individual contributions from the rhythm guitar, bass and drums.
The band entertained for two hours without much improvisation and none of the performers, all of whom are related (2 brothers and 2 cousins), interrupts the music with conversation. The audience doesn’t seem to mind. They sing along with “Knocked Up,” cheer when “Milk” begins, and chant for “Ragoo.” “Ragoo” is the only song they don’t play from “Because of the Times;” they didn’t play it in Washington D.C. the week before nor in Baltimore the following week. A few songs from the previous album, “Aha Shake Heartbreak” make the cut and the audience is satiated.
Kings of Leon represents the difference between good because it’s popular and being popular because it’s great. Perhaps I can look forward to my children discovering this hidden treasure in my itunes collection.
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
Joan Osborne at the Summerstage (NY, NY) 9.29.07
Ninja: Jonathan Daniel
As I walked into Central Park, I was immediately confronted by a crazy man sitting on a bench asking to perform “unbelievable magic” for me.
“Now you see me,” he said before throwing a white towel over his face and screaming “But I disappeared right in front of your fucking eyes!”
I continued walking.
It didn’t take long before I could hear an announcer from the Rumsey Playfield introduce “the Grammy nominated Joan Osborne”, and a mother walking by me pushing a stroller ask her husband, “Who’s Joan Osborne?” To be honest, despite the twelve years since her first major label album release, and eight releases since, my only memories of her music include a couple of Dead shows and flipping through the radio presets in my mother’s car, catching part of “One of Us” on Z100.
I couldn’t afford admission into the show (ah, the life of a twenty-something New Yorker), so I found a perch outside the venue against an old oak tree (or spruce, or pine, or whatever it was) close enough to hear the music, as was a common practice of mine this summer. That’s a big perk of Rumsey Playfield (more commonly known as the Summerstage) – even if you can’t get into the actual venue, you can still hear the concert from a good distance away. And, on a beautiful day like this one, it’s that much more enjoyable.
It was a cloudless, almost-autumn day as her voice beautifully belted over an almost country-ballad version of the old Marvin Gaye hit “How Sweet It Is” to open up her set. Though she’s been compared to such musicians as Tori Amos and Sarah McLachlin, her voice is also reminiscent of an old Southern Gospel singer, and it fits well over the warm tone of an electric guitar and powerful, driving bass.
Though they only had about an hour to play, the band switched it up quite a bit between straight ahead rock, blues, and country. They were tight and followed each other well – each member getting their own chance to shine at one point or another. Joan’s (may I call you Joan?) powerful yet smooth voice is reminiscent of so many old soul and jazz singers, and it shined on every song, regardless of the genre. She certainly stands center stage here.
Of her ten-song set, the most recognizable were “How Sweet It Is” and her nineties near-chart-topping hit “One of Us” (it reached #4 on the Billboard Hot 100), the latter of which she chose to play one song prior to the closer. When the guitarist strummed that oh, so nostalgic melody, it brought me immediately back to fifth grade. The tune, though, was slightly altered from the MTV version, taking on a less poppy, more subdued (and, if I do say so myself, much more enjoyable) sound. I’m sure the audience was singing along inside.
To close her set, in true Rock AND Roll fashion, the last song was an upbeat, fast paced rocker designed to let the fans leave happy. After that old classic build up and crash down ending, the band left the stage for only one or two minutes before coming back to play an encore. I walked away from the Rumsey Playfield, toward Sheep’s Meadow to toss a Frisbee, singing along with Joan to “Proud Mary”, that classic Creedence tune. Cliché, yes, but nevertheless, I was refreshed.
As I walked into Central Park, I was immediately confronted by a crazy man sitting on a bench asking to perform “unbelievable magic” for me.
“Now you see me,” he said before throwing a white towel over his face and screaming “But I disappeared right in front of your fucking eyes!”
I continued walking.
It didn’t take long before I could hear an announcer from the Rumsey Playfield introduce “the Grammy nominated Joan Osborne”, and a mother walking by me pushing a stroller ask her husband, “Who’s Joan Osborne?” To be honest, despite the twelve years since her first major label album release, and eight releases since, my only memories of her music include a couple of Dead shows and flipping through the radio presets in my mother’s car, catching part of “One of Us” on Z100.
I couldn’t afford admission into the show (ah, the life of a twenty-something New Yorker), so I found a perch outside the venue against an old oak tree (or spruce, or pine, or whatever it was) close enough to hear the music, as was a common practice of mine this summer. That’s a big perk of Rumsey Playfield (more commonly known as the Summerstage) – even if you can’t get into the actual venue, you can still hear the concert from a good distance away. And, on a beautiful day like this one, it’s that much more enjoyable.
It was a cloudless, almost-autumn day as her voice beautifully belted over an almost country-ballad version of the old Marvin Gaye hit “How Sweet It Is” to open up her set. Though she’s been compared to such musicians as Tori Amos and Sarah McLachlin, her voice is also reminiscent of an old Southern Gospel singer, and it fits well over the warm tone of an electric guitar and powerful, driving bass.
Though they only had about an hour to play, the band switched it up quite a bit between straight ahead rock, blues, and country. They were tight and followed each other well – each member getting their own chance to shine at one point or another. Joan’s (may I call you Joan?) powerful yet smooth voice is reminiscent of so many old soul and jazz singers, and it shined on every song, regardless of the genre. She certainly stands center stage here.
Of her ten-song set, the most recognizable were “How Sweet It Is” and her nineties near-chart-topping hit “One of Us” (it reached #4 on the Billboard Hot 100), the latter of which she chose to play one song prior to the closer. When the guitarist strummed that oh, so nostalgic melody, it brought me immediately back to fifth grade. The tune, though, was slightly altered from the MTV version, taking on a less poppy, more subdued (and, if I do say so myself, much more enjoyable) sound. I’m sure the audience was singing along inside.
To close her set, in true Rock AND Roll fashion, the last song was an upbeat, fast paced rocker designed to let the fans leave happy. After that old classic build up and crash down ending, the band left the stage for only one or two minutes before coming back to play an encore. I walked away from the Rumsey Playfield, toward Sheep’s Meadow to toss a Frisbee, singing along with Joan to “Proud Mary”, that classic Creedence tune. Cliché, yes, but nevertheless, I was refreshed.
Man Man at Webster Hall 10/2/07
Viewer: Ninja Courtney Myers
Tonight I prepare myself for a band someone on Wikipedia describes as “playfully existential.” I prepare with my best friend and a bottle of red wine. Our tickets say eight p.m. but we arrive at the venue at eight thirty knowing that no self-respecting band would actually start at show time. This is New York after all; the city that founded fashionably late entrances. We stroll up to the door only be to told by the doormen that Man Man isn’t going on until 10:30 p.m., leaving us ample time for a pitcher of beer at the nearby Pour House.
Four Kona Golds and a joint of haze at our favorite friend turned high school chemistry teacher’s apartment- later, we walk back to Webster Hall. Located in the East Village, Webster Hall is an antique venue of black and white slate, broken mirrors, and porcelain fixtures. With dark red carpets and fake candles lighting the stairway, it may as well be a spooky fun house for kids on Halloween.
After the opening band, which we didn’t see or hear, a cracked out comedian entered stage left. Right before he was booed off the stage, he yelled at one of the lingering musicians, “I will promise to go on a diet if you will promise to get off the stage!” A skinny Trey look a like roadie looked up from the cables he was unplugging or untangling and gazed at him for a moment then returned to testing out the equipment for twenty minutes. The crowd dipped in energy until Lou Reed’s “Here it Comes” poured out of the speakers.
After the CD skipped a few times, the lights dimmed. Enter Man Man. Five guys named Honus Honus (Ryan Kattner), Pow Pow (Christopher Powell), Alejandro “Cougar” Borg (Russell Higbee), Sergei Sogay (Chris Sharr), Chang Wang and Chesnut. The drums and keyboard faced each other with the other three members behind playing guitars, flutes, and various other percussion instruments. The five guys who make up Man Man are all independently talented artists who each bring their own flavor and style to the table.
Honus Honus banged away at his piano honky tonk style yelling at the top of lungs with a voice very similar to the vocals of their friends of Modest Mouse. Meanwhile the rest of the band rotated through an eclectic menu of different instruments—some looked homemade while others were variations of non-traditional guitars. Russell has a quiet yet dominating presence. You can tell while he doesn’t need the limelight, it definitely finds him. Every other song I saw him playing a different instrument. Russell’s girlfriend, from Brooklyn, watched over the screaming fans from her side stage perch.
Each member’s own idiosyncrasies come through in their stage costumes. For example, not only do they all dress up in funky space suity shirts, polka dots, flannel and face paint, Pow Pow even decorated his drum set with a chocolate Easter bunny. During the set Chris busted out a flute as naturally as a business man pulls out his blackberry. Man Man’s cacophony performance blended a bleeding heart saxophone player, a screaming vocalist, a rip roaring drum set, and a keyboard buffet. Their musical feast climaxed with, Man Man’s lyrics, “this ship will sail and this heart will die…nothing is everything you’ll seem to hide.” They all have these completely independent ways of thinking and their collaboration masterful.
Man Man’s eclectic style mirrored their crowd which was composed of all sorts of folk ranging from library nerds to Jersey lax wearing dudes from west Essex. Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves, especially the huge fat shirtless hairy guy in pink booty shorts. Moving through the crowd was easy with no six foot tall frat boys blocking the way. Everyone seemed very relaxed and very grateful to be there.
Webster Hall’s colorful history began in 1886. The East Village concert hall hosted benefit costume balls where beautiful bohemians would flock and dance into the early morning. It then became a speakeasy during the frustrating times of prohibition and has since been remodeled several times into its present day form as a night club and popular music venue.
My main concern was about the dance floor because it was much more like a trampoline than an actual hardwood surface. As the crowd jumped up and down the floor’s flexibility made me nervous. I felt like the floor was going to collapse. I was not alone in this fear.
Other noteworthy acts that have played here are The Hives, Sonic Youth, The Bravery, Spoon, John Butler Trio, Explosions in the Sky, The Flaming Lips, Dispatch, and Infected Mushroom. Webster Hall designated the upstairs as the VIP area, which we were not allowed access to, even after I told them that I had ninja skills. The only other downside to the venue? The five dollar bottle of water from the bar.
Man Man has two albums under their belt. They are all in their 30s and have a promising future in the indie rock music biz. Their 2004 release, “The Man in a Blue Turban with a Face,” featured the Nike commercial single “10 lb Mustache.” Their 2006 release, “Six Demon Bag,” supposedly about Honus’s ex-girlfriend cheating on him with his best friend and getting pregnant and then discovering he is not the father. Honus now has a new girlfriend who lives in Brooklyn.
Both albums have both been successful, but it is their lives shows which have brought Man Man particular notoriety. And not just for their outrageously spirited performances but also because they never take a moment’s rest. Their entire show is unbroken, without set breaks, and is one intense party.
Next up for Man Man? Supposedly they have a cover of the theme song for Weed’s Tiny Little Boxes coming out this season…
Tonight I prepare myself for a band someone on Wikipedia describes as “playfully existential.” I prepare with my best friend and a bottle of red wine. Our tickets say eight p.m. but we arrive at the venue at eight thirty knowing that no self-respecting band would actually start at show time. This is New York after all; the city that founded fashionably late entrances. We stroll up to the door only be to told by the doormen that Man Man isn’t going on until 10:30 p.m., leaving us ample time for a pitcher of beer at the nearby Pour House.
Four Kona Golds and a joint of haze at our favorite friend turned high school chemistry teacher’s apartment- later, we walk back to Webster Hall. Located in the East Village, Webster Hall is an antique venue of black and white slate, broken mirrors, and porcelain fixtures. With dark red carpets and fake candles lighting the stairway, it may as well be a spooky fun house for kids on Halloween.
After the opening band, which we didn’t see or hear, a cracked out comedian entered stage left. Right before he was booed off the stage, he yelled at one of the lingering musicians, “I will promise to go on a diet if you will promise to get off the stage!” A skinny Trey look a like roadie looked up from the cables he was unplugging or untangling and gazed at him for a moment then returned to testing out the equipment for twenty minutes. The crowd dipped in energy until Lou Reed’s “Here it Comes” poured out of the speakers.
After the CD skipped a few times, the lights dimmed. Enter Man Man. Five guys named Honus Honus (Ryan Kattner), Pow Pow (Christopher Powell), Alejandro “Cougar” Borg (Russell Higbee), Sergei Sogay (Chris Sharr), Chang Wang and Chesnut. The drums and keyboard faced each other with the other three members behind playing guitars, flutes, and various other percussion instruments. The five guys who make up Man Man are all independently talented artists who each bring their own flavor and style to the table.
Honus Honus banged away at his piano honky tonk style yelling at the top of lungs with a voice very similar to the vocals of their friends of Modest Mouse. Meanwhile the rest of the band rotated through an eclectic menu of different instruments—some looked homemade while others were variations of non-traditional guitars. Russell has a quiet yet dominating presence. You can tell while he doesn’t need the limelight, it definitely finds him. Every other song I saw him playing a different instrument. Russell’s girlfriend, from Brooklyn, watched over the screaming fans from her side stage perch.
Each member’s own idiosyncrasies come through in their stage costumes. For example, not only do they all dress up in funky space suity shirts, polka dots, flannel and face paint, Pow Pow even decorated his drum set with a chocolate Easter bunny. During the set Chris busted out a flute as naturally as a business man pulls out his blackberry. Man Man’s cacophony performance blended a bleeding heart saxophone player, a screaming vocalist, a rip roaring drum set, and a keyboard buffet. Their musical feast climaxed with, Man Man’s lyrics, “this ship will sail and this heart will die…nothing is everything you’ll seem to hide.” They all have these completely independent ways of thinking and their collaboration masterful.
Man Man’s eclectic style mirrored their crowd which was composed of all sorts of folk ranging from library nerds to Jersey lax wearing dudes from west Essex. Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves, especially the huge fat shirtless hairy guy in pink booty shorts. Moving through the crowd was easy with no six foot tall frat boys blocking the way. Everyone seemed very relaxed and very grateful to be there.
Webster Hall’s colorful history began in 1886. The East Village concert hall hosted benefit costume balls where beautiful bohemians would flock and dance into the early morning. It then became a speakeasy during the frustrating times of prohibition and has since been remodeled several times into its present day form as a night club and popular music venue.
My main concern was about the dance floor because it was much more like a trampoline than an actual hardwood surface. As the crowd jumped up and down the floor’s flexibility made me nervous. I felt like the floor was going to collapse. I was not alone in this fear.
Other noteworthy acts that have played here are The Hives, Sonic Youth, The Bravery, Spoon, John Butler Trio, Explosions in the Sky, The Flaming Lips, Dispatch, and Infected Mushroom. Webster Hall designated the upstairs as the VIP area, which we were not allowed access to, even after I told them that I had ninja skills. The only other downside to the venue? The five dollar bottle of water from the bar.
Man Man has two albums under their belt. They are all in their 30s and have a promising future in the indie rock music biz. Their 2004 release, “The Man in a Blue Turban with a Face,” featured the Nike commercial single “10 lb Mustache.” Their 2006 release, “Six Demon Bag,” supposedly about Honus’s ex-girlfriend cheating on him with his best friend and getting pregnant and then discovering he is not the father. Honus now has a new girlfriend who lives in Brooklyn.
Both albums have both been successful, but it is their lives shows which have brought Man Man particular notoriety. And not just for their outrageously spirited performances but also because they never take a moment’s rest. Their entire show is unbroken, without set breaks, and is one intense party.
Next up for Man Man? Supposedly they have a cover of the theme song for Weed’s Tiny Little Boxes coming out this season…
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