Monthly Archives: February 2011

Yeah, yeah, yeah. The Grammy’s were 2 weeks ago–old news Brian! Since then bands like Mumford & Sons, Arcade Fire, and Florence and the Machine have been dominating the iTunes Top 10 Albums as if hip-hop was dead and gone for good. Many I’m sure, like my mother, are breathing a long sigh of relief; relief from what she would call the continual barrage of stripped down 808 clap beats with lyrics about bitches, guns, drugs, teaching everyone and everything how to dougie, etc. As of right now, 1 out of the top 10 albums can be labeled as “hip-hop”–that one being Lupe Fiasco’s iTunes Pass to his upcoming album LASERS, which isn’t even out yet, sitting pretty at #10. Go Lupe Go.

Should we be worried? Were MCs like Nas correct? Is Tupac rolling over in his grave/throwing back drinks in New Orleans wondering how hip-hop has gotten to this point? While it ain’t looking good, all hope is not lost. In fact, the future of hip-hop is looking very bright indeed, and it’s not the future everyone is talking about. Read More »

The Black Cat was no longer the venue that would host Julieta Venegas, which meant that attending the six-time Grammy winner’s concert would involve a trip to the State Theatre in Falls Church, Virginia. Upon arriving at the box office, I was told that there had been miscommunication and my name was not on the guest list for the sold-out concert. After getting into some arguments, I felt defeated and made my way to a bar on the same block. Hopefully, a beer could convince me that my voyage on that cold Tuesday night had not been in vain.  Like a broken soul, I was reminiscing on how great the talented singer and songwriter had been two years ago when I saw her play for a full house at the Kennedy Center. At that point, I decided that I was not going to give up. To make a long story short, after a series of phone calls, texts messages, more rejections at the main entrance and new friendships, a member of Julieta’s crew took me backstage. I was to trek across the stage after the opening band as if I were one of the stage crewmembers and get into the crowd. Once the D.C. area Latin rockers, “Nayas,” finished their set, I did as I was told and began anticipating the show.

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This is a companion piece to the Wed. Feb. 16th and 23rd episodes of Footnotes, which streams on WGTB from 9-10pm.

Complicated folklores tend to lend themselves to being adopted with a religious-like intensity by a cult audience. This kind of fan devotion and the complexity of the folklore can easily become baffling or off-putting to the uninitiated. Sometimes, parsing through the folklore rewards the reader/viewer/listener/etc. with a more meaningful, literary experience that explains the devotion of the fans. This is the case with the Hold Steady, a band whose songs, in addition to having a deep literary bent, have included a story arc expanding over songs on multiple albums.  This includes the entirety of 2005’s Separation Sunday, which stands out as one of the only concept albums/rock operas that has a coherent sensible plot (I’m looking at you Pete Townshend). It culminates in one of the most dramatic closing tracks the author has ever heard, “How a Resurrection Really Feels,” but without the context of the album it loses much of its power. Thus, since Separation Sunday stands out as one of my favorite listening experiences and the depth of its story might dissuade some from wanting to give it a listen, today’s article is a cheat sheet to remove that excuse for not listening. Read More »

I think I can speak for almost all of my close friends in saying that few artists hold a place in our hearts that even come close to Radiohead. Our entire collective experience with music has been centered around discussing which of the band’s many masterpiece albums is our favorite for that day, trying to decipher new interpretations for OK Computer and Kid A, and keeping abreast of all of Thom Yorke’s photobombs.

Having said that, it’s no surprise that each of us were stunned and indescribably elated when we heard that Radiohead would release a new album, The King of Limbs, last week. Our excitement increased exponentially when on Friday each of us learned that the new album was to be released a day early. From that point on, we’ve immersed ourselves in these eight tracks and nothing else. Read More »

Last Thursday, Painted Face opened for New York’s geek-chic pop stars Darwin Deez at the Black Cat’s main stage. The show was initially set to be held at the smaller backstage, but was moved to the main stage last minute.

This was a good move. The main stage was packed with energetic teenagers as soon as Darwin Deez started playing. The crowd for the opening band, however, was smaller, but supportive.  Their glam electro-pop synth-heavy songs were as delightful and dreamy as I remember they were in January, but the crowd didn’t seem too familiar with them. Their last concert at the Velvet Lounge was a veritable dance floor, but most people seemed to be saving their energy for Darwin Deez at the Black Cat. Read More »

Oh No Oh My (previously Oh No! Oh My!) lost something more than lines and dots between their debut album and their second full-length release, People Problems, but the Austin, Texas based band claims that the change was a necessary one. Their myspace page explains that “Oh No Oh My grew up” between their 2006 self-titled debut and People Problems. Ultimately, I agree, but a lot of things come with growing up. The album definitely reflects maturity that was missing from earlier work, but there is also an inescapable sense that the spontaneity that defined the band’s first musical efforts left with the exclamation points. Read More »

To be honest, I am immediately dubious of any band with a 7” EP called “King Corpse.” Something about a name like that brings to mind disturbing thoughts of death metal and the scary existence of bands like this. But listening to the Lil’ Daggers teaser of an EP, I was once again reminded not to judge a book by its cover. Read More »

Initially drawn to this album by the ambiguous nature of its cover art (man-babies playing lutes in feathered headdresses have always bespoken good music in the past) I expected, at the very least, an interesting effort. I was not entirely disappointed, although Tristen’s first album Charlatans At The Garden Gate is perhaps not quite as bizarre as I was hoping it would be.

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