Live Reviews

CD Release Party, Club Passim, Cambridge, MA 3/29/12
It’s a sold-out room inside Club Passim, in celebration of the Whiskey Boy’s sophomore release, Crescent Moon. All eyes are on the stage and the crowd hangs on every word and every note fiddler David Delaney and guitarist Mark Kilianski play. The pair is a lot of fun as a duo, but tonight they mix it up a bit and bring in some guests to round out the sound on banjo, bass, and drums in parts of their set.  A few winks and nods between the boys on stage and they are off; their material is filled with fantastic songwriting, creative arrangements, and expert musicianship. The songs are well-crafted and rehearsed solidly with one exception—their impromptu tribute to bluegrass pioneer Earl Scruggs goes smoothly, but only after a few false starts. David brightens the mood explaining they didn’t get to rehearse that one, as they hadn’t planned on him dying. Even so, it’s a heartfelt rendition that draws large applause. The Whiskey Boys promise that once tonight’s CD release party is over, they’ll start hounding the crowd about their next CD. After listening to a few of their new tunes, I’m looking forward to that. Watch out Boston, there’s a powerful new bluegrass force that’s heading your way from my new favorite band, the Whiskey Boys.
(Kier Byrnes)

The Foundation Room, The House of Blues, Boston, MA
St.Patrick’s Day  3/17/12
This is a cool gig in a great club, and if the music isn’t so good it would be a toss-up between keeping my eyes onstage or else checking out the star-studded audience. But this is a chance for me to see an incredible act in a rare duo form and in a very intimate setting. So I turn towards Charlie and Jon and focus on the good music I am hearing. They do a great version of Butcher’s “Bound for Glory” from his Barefoot Servants days and “Soul Mate,” “Deja Vu,” and “Railroad Line” from their new CD, with Western Massachusetts artist Otto Lenz blowing a mean harp as a guest artist on the last mentioned tune. Song after song it’s pretty cool hearing Jon and Charlie trade screaming leads too. Legendary guitar-slinger Johnny A even comes up and plays a few tunes including “I Hear You Knocking,” and I have to smile: a million-dollar trio playing in a small room and I’m fortunate enough to be here. I look around and see Jimmy D’Angelo from August and Mad Angel, Hirsh Gardner from New England, Joe Pet from Charlie’s old band the Joe Perry Project and face after face of familiar artists. While standing next to D.K. from the J. Geils Band, I off-handedly comment about all the famous people in the audience and he laughs and gently chides; “And what am I, A.J., chopped liver?”              (A.J. Wachtel)

DAVID COFFIN (with Linnea Coffin)
Cape Ann Museum, Gloucester, MA
I wake up one day with a desire to sing sea chanties (one of Gloucester’s effects on me) and spot in the local paper a free sea chanty concert only three blocks from where I live. I bike over to the museum and take the stairs down to their mid-sized lecture room and eye a concertina sitting on the stage next to a small PA. Moments later David Coffin goes to hop up on the stage and nearly hits the deck. He humorously states out loud, “I must be one of those maritime artifacts,” and proceeds to exaggerate his long walk over to the side of the stage where three steps of stairs will safely lead him to his destination. Settled in now, he asks if anyone knows why a dog’s nose is always wet. Then proceeds to answer the question in a song about Noah’s ark where a bull knocks a hole in the side of the ark. A dog is then summoned to place its nose in the whole to keep the boat from sinking. This is the kind of rapport David keeps up with his audience that ranges in age from 3 to 80.
During the concert he is joined at times by 1) his sweet-voiced teenage daughter Linnea, and 2) Pierre, his limberjack (a wooden percussion instrument made to look like a little person doing a jig). Linnea’s highlights include “Winkin Blinkin and Nod” (a performance of it can still be seen on WGBH occasionally) and the memorable “Rainbow Connection” from The Muppet’s Movie. After the latter, one little boy exclaims, “I can’t believe they did that song.” Pierre wears a decorative outfit and has quite the personality for a simple piece of wood with flying limbs.
The highlight of the casual concert for me was “The Ballad of Lewis Mills” that tells the story of a Gloucester man and his son attempting to break the 55-day record of crossing the Atlantic in a rowboat. Lewis  planned to do it in 40 days in March of 1967 (this is a true story). On day one, the boat took on ice and basically stopped moving. The only reasonable decision was to turn back, and eventually get towed in by the Coast Guard. A 40-day journey, done in one day.
If you ever get the chance to see David’s performance, it’s a great educational and musical experience. I’m hoping to catch him at sea this summer.                            (T Max)

T.T. the Bear’s, Cambridge, MA
Seeing the big crowd at The Rumble makes me think of my childhood church’s priest who would always tell the Christmas-Easter crowd, “You know, we’re actually here every week.”
The rootsy Cask Mouse are up first with their mix of rowdy foot stompers and more contemplative ballads.   The upbeat numbers, particularly the finale which allows for some pyrotechnics from Kevin Boldwin on guitar and Joe Wyatt on violin, strike a chord with me, but I find the slower numbers to be a little sleepy.  The musicianship is tight, particularly the rhythm section of Chris Johnson on upright bass and Ed Llerena on drums.  I can definitely appreciate the skills on display here, but the band is a little conservative for my taste.  The crowd differs, though, as the band leaves the stage to raucous applause.
Never Got Caught features two members of Tree.   The band is heavy like you would expect, but its music would best be described as groove-oriented hard rock that would fit well on a bill with Black Sabbath, Pantera, and Alice in Chains.  It takes the boys a song or two to hit their stride, but when they do, the result is quite powerful, and they manage to get one part of the crowd headbanging and one part dancing like normal people dance.   What the songs lack in immediate hooks, they mostly make up for in power.  They are men of few words, and out of all the bands playing tonight, they are the ones that are most content to let the music speak for itself.
Parlour Bells brings a welcome touch of sex appeal to the proceedings, with singer Glenn di Benedetto looking like he walked straight out of Velvet Goldmine.  The music is rooted in glam, but the songs have some real kick to them.   There is more of a song-to-song variety in their set than in any of the others tonight.  One number late in the set reminds me of the more disco-y side of Blondie, as it aims to take the listener straight from the dance floor to the bedroom.  Guitarist Nate Leavitt is hands down the night’s best musician, and Magen Tracy’s synths give the proceedings a decadent, but classy, edge.  Really fun stuff.
Given the band’s name, appearance and the fact that there is a giant paper mache monster on stage, I am surprised when the Fagettes turn out to be nothing more than a standard ’60s-influenced garage band. I quickly get the sense these guys and gals would be a better fit in a room full of their friends than at a radio station battle of the bands.  Their performance is the least polished of the evening, partially due to sound problems, but largely just because polish isn’t their thing.  More of a problem is that frontman Ryan Major gives off the vibe that he doesn’t really want to be here.  There’s one moment of glory when Melanie Bernier takes over lead vocals and channels her inner Exene Cervenka.  But overall, the set is kind of a mess, and the crowd is considerably less responsive than at any other point in the night.
My non-binding vote goes to Parlour Bells.  The judges’ actual binding votes go to Cask Mouse.                                              (Kevin Finn)

Midway Café, Jamaica Plain MA
Props must be dished out (like platters, Daddy-O) to DJ Easy Ed, who could create a party atmosphere in an empty broom closet, but graciously brings it around to other places I hang out in too. If you enjoy rockabilly, truckin’ and drinkin’ songs, and likeminded honky-tonkin’ (emphasis on honky), and Roy Sludge is predisposed, Ed’s your man. His weekly show airs Friday nights on WMFO, and you’d be most wise to hire him for any upcoming sock-hops, BBQs, clambakes, weddings, class reunions, baptisms, you get the picture, trust me.
As good a mood as Ed has already laid on me, I’m fully unprepared for the Spamps. With members of NRBQ, The Incredible Casuals, and a drummer whose history crosses all known boundaries, I knew they’d be tremendous. By the third tune, they’ve left “tremendous” in the dust. A bittersweet ballad here, a gospel-worthy thumper there, a sparkly pop jewel followed by an ass-whomping stampede of staccato guitars, heart-thumping bass, flailing rhythms, and laser-cut harmonies. As with so many of their other projects, this is nothing short of a history lesson. I’m overjoyed and exhausted at once. Everyone’s beaming. The band’s gotta be spent after all this. So what do they do? They come out and play a second set that actually dwarfs the first. On one hand, I’m nothing but grateful. On the other, they raise the bar to such absurd degrees, I know that little (if anything) else I see this year will measure up. Not one second of this has been mailed in. To create a vibe this uplifting is hard work. That’s the reason I still even bother, and all you fractious, sub-sub-sub-genre wannabe radio stars, take note: If your crowd doesn’t leave feeling better than when they came in, really, what the fuck’s the point?    (Joe Coughlin)

Mari’s, Quincy, MA
Whether this band is doing covers or original tunes, the common denominator in any of the three sets these cats play is the passion and ferocity that comes across while they perform. We all know the rock ’n’ roll equation: powerful vocals, screaming guitar, and a tight rhythm section equals a great bar band, and so far so good tonight. Lead singer Eric Savoie has the kind of voice that people applaud for in the middle of a song, after a verse. Lead guitarist Stan Blues Jr. is a man of many notes and many effects: all of them impressive and loud. Four stringer John Peresada and powerful pounder Dylan Jack, who just joined the group, keep it all together and are razor sharp throughout the night they do Muddy’s “Hoochie Coochie Man.” They do James Cotton; “It’s a Boogie Thing.” They do Yardbirds: “Goin’ Down.” They do the Doors: “Roadhouse Blues” (with the crowd screaming the lines to the song with the band). And they do a lot of songs from their new CD Let Sleeping Dogs Lie. They sound good playing traditional blues, R&B, and straight ahead arena rock, and I love going into a club where I am not the only guy with a pony tail.        (A.J.Wachtel)

Great Scott, Allston MA
Radio Control is a rock duo from Somerville, consisting of Matt Studivan on vocals/guitar and Kristina Otero on vocals/drums.  Both are very excited to play and this shows in their energetic performance.  They display a lot of musicianship and there is an undeniable chemistry between the two of them. Matt creates some strong guitar riffs as Kristina pounds the drums with just as much vigor as her band mate.  Up until tonight I had never heard of Radio Control or any of their songs, but I can definitely hear several pop hooks in their music. Towards the end of the set, Matt busts one of his strings, but like a true rocker, he laughs it off and manages to finish the show without any hint of error.  Overall, the crowd seems to dig Radio Control and I concur. I hope to see them again soon. (Chris DeCarlo)

WZLX Rock ’n’ Roll Rumble—night #5

T.T. the Bear’s, Cambridge, MA
It’s the preliminary round  of WZLX’s Rock ’n’ Roll Rumble, where the best of Boston’s bands come together to showcase their talent, and damn do they ever. The indie/rock quintet of Pray for Polanski is a band I’ve heard a lot about but never had the chance to experience live until tonight, and they set the bar high for the acts to follow. Vocalists Anne Warnock and Aviv Rubinstien have some intense chemistry on stage, and more to the point, sound damned excited to be there. The band has an infectious energy, and from the crowd’s one-inch proximity from the stage, it’s clear that many are here to support them. The music’s got a pretty casual flow, but don’t take that to mean they’re not practiced, because we’re not dealing with a bunch of rookies. There are plenty of points in the set where Warnock and Rubinstein sound like they’re conversing with the audience, which really helps draw them in.
If Pray for Polanski is the band to set the bar, BrownBoot is the band to take that bar, chew it up, and spit out some epic nails. With Rodrigo van Stoli (guitar) and Elena Siegman on the vocals, the band brings the kind of rock/metal set that all fans crave-blasted eardrums and vibrating bones. The music is tight, with Matt Sullivan on guitar, Joe Kowalski on keyboard, Jason Baldock on drums and Randy Knight on bass, and even with the tunes pushing the sound system being pushed to its limits, the vocals come through loud and clear. A few more mellow ballads are added to the set, and two new songs see their debut that night.
Bow Thayer & the Perfect Trainwreck deliver a fast-paced heavy country sound—it’s something new to my ears and it’s a welcome addition. Oh, and I’m pretty sure they have the biggest kickdrum on record. The vocals of Bow Thayer (who rocks a banjo harder than I’m pretty sure is possible) flow with practiced ease and are the perfect accompaniment with the edgy, rock-fused sounds of the Perfect Trainwrecks. They match the other bands shot for shot and show us all why the Americana genre has carved such a sizable niche in Boston’s music scene.
The final band of the night, the Bynars, add a new sound to the musical menagerie here at T.T.’s. They’ve got an electronic/pop sound, but don’t count these guys out for a moment. Mike Champ (drums), Matt Jatkola (vocals, guitar) and Ben Mettey (synthesizers) bring a smooth, polished sound that I thought made them a strong contender to take the top spot that night. I feel like we’re seeing a great cross-section of Boston’s music, this night, with a lot of the different genres proudly represented. The music of the Bynars keep those with a train to catch riveted to the floor, and a few fans even join them on stage. I’m definitely going to keep my eyes open for their next show.
The judges pick Bow Thayer & the Perfect Trainwreck to move into the semi-finals, and it’s certainly a well-deserved win.           (Max Bowen)

Showcase Live, Patriots Place, Foxboro, MA
What a cool Boston style rock ’n’ roll concert. I run backstage while the opening band is on and see Mike Girard from the Fools dressed only in bikini briefs walking into the Stompers’ dressing room looking for Sal Baglio. I keep my mouth shut but my eyes wide open as I anticipate what will happen next, but luckily Sal hides somewhere else doing his best to avoid the Fool. The Stompers rip through “Rock Jump and Holler,” “Coast to Coast,” and “Never Tell an Angel” and even do covers of “Palisades Park” and the Dave Clark Five’s “Anyway You Want It.” They are a great, veteran rock ’n’ roll band and they blow the roof right off the club with their music. Experiencing a Fools show is always an event and tonight is no different. While playing hits like “Psycho Chicken,” “Life Sucks (Then You Die),” “World Dance Party,” “I’ll Never Grow Up,” and “It’s a Night For Beautiful Girls,” with a packed house singing all the words to all the songs, Mike Girard is able to incite a riot, entertain the crowd, and embarrass me all in a matter of minutes. They don’t take time between songs tuning up or taking a break, and this doesn’t allow the listeners to unwind either, so by the end of the night everyone is tired and smiling at the chaos and mayhem. Funny as shit: they have a cute blonde who sells their merchandise come onstage and hold up their T-shirts and CD’s as Mike serenades her and cajoles the people to empty their wallets and buy their stuff. Hysterical. And then Girard asks for help in singing “Doo Wah Diddy” and he jumps off stage and ambles over to me and sticks the mic in my face in the middle of the crowd in a dark room and slyly grins: “And what is YOUR name, sir?” as I gasp for air in embarrassment and surprise and blow the lyrics to the famous song. Oh well. I should have hidden from him like Baglio did pre-set. Local rock ’n’ roll the way it is meant to be; I won’t forget this show for a long time.   (A.J. Wachtel)

O’Brien’s Pub, Allston, MA
The doorman at O’Brien’s really takes his ID checking seriously, he is stopping everyone and it is taking forever. The funny thing is, most of this crowd is easily in their late 40’s. I’ve taken to calling tonight “old white people bar night.” The club is pretty full when Boo City hits the stage. The music starts; it’s smooth and soulful. Tai, dressed in a tight black cat suit,  dances around the stage on impossibly high heels. Tai thanks the crowd for coming out; this is their first show in Boston. She goes on to ask, “Where the hell do you guys park out here?” Tai raises her hand into the air, “This is where I go to church. When I ask Jesus how the fuck did I end up this way.” The crowd is up and dancing, loving Boo City. As always the music is tight, the songs are fun, and the band always impressed the hell out of me. I’m glad their first show at O’Brien’s was a success.
Boo City was very soulful rock, so I’m not sure what to expect when Rollover Baby come out. They have an older black man who I overheard was a reverend, a very tall mutton-chopped dude with a stand-up bass, and a greaser straight from the pages of Hot Rod magazine holding a harmonica and an oversized silver microphone. The band explodes immediately, they are a kick-ass blues rock band. They cover Sabbath and Zeppelin, doing it very well. The crowd is getting progressively drunker, several glasses are raised high. I’m laughing because these people yell out “woooo” during every silent space. This is one of those bands that I wish clubs could still be smoking for. These guys don’t play out often from what I’m told. I highly recommend checking them out if you see that they’re playing near you.
It is barely 11 p.m. and the club is at full capacity. There is hardly any room to move. A man at a table in front of me pulls a conch shell out of his pocket. I watch as this shell is passed around the club. The whole time I’m wishing that he had pulled out some deodorant because it is hot, he is sweaty, and my senses are being offended. I have the utmost respect for Ten Foot Polecats; they don’t care how they look, they’re not trying to be a top 40 favorite; they care about the music and it shows. They kicked my ass musically… every time I thought I was safe, they hit me with more great music. The singer’s gravel-filled vocals fit perfect over the relentless hellabilly music. I was exhausted from dancing by the time Ten Foot Polecats finished playing. I apologize to Coyote Kolb, the actual headliners tonight, but bed and pizza are calling for me, so I cut out early.                       (Melvin O)

Brighton Music Hall Brighton, MA
Walter Sickert shows have become more than just a show, it is a fully interactive musical experience. Tonight’s performance is being hosted by Mary Widow from Black Cat Burlesque. The crowd is very mixed, we have boys in dresses, girls dressed as rabbits hopping around, metal kids all in black, an old hippie with braids hanging down to his knees, even a group of girls dressed in plain Amish- like clothes. Mary walks out promising that tonight will be “one of a kind and crazy.’’
Black Thai is the first band, and holy metal hell, Batman, these guys kick some serious ass. They have to stop after the first song because the applause is so loud it would be redundant to continue. This is the band that later tonight people will be saying “dude you seriously missed the best band. Black Thai was awesome.”
Mary Widow introduces a burlesque performer who does a brief skit before Sidewalk Driver comes out. I’m not sure where it is coming from but confetti keeps exploding from the ceiling, showering the crowd throughout the first song. Tad changes his clothes, switching to a black suit, and says, “Now I look like heartache and anguish. Better yet, sadness.” The Amish-looking girls start parading around the club holding signs, protesting Walter and music in general. They set up camp in front of the stage facing the crowd. I get slightly distracted when a random girl gets in my face saying my “fuck the pity whores” T-shirt is offensive to her, and why would I wear it out? I try ignoring her, but she is dead in my face by this point and waiting for an answer. All I had was “I’m an asshole, sorry” and gave her a thumbs up hoping she left satisfied. Thankfully she did, but I missed something because Tad now is dancing on the bar wearing a glowing neon vest. He jumps off the bar into the crowd as more confetti rains down. He finishes the set off in the crowd dancing with everybody.
Mary returns to the stage, she introduces Locrius as “her evil twin brother.” They both yell out “Walter Sickert must die.” Mary is joined by a few more performers; Planetoid stand still in the darkness as the girls perform. The lights go completely off; on each side of the stage illuminated neon hula hoops are raised high. Locrius makes me laugh when he says, “I can’t believe I missed Black Thai, that band is awesome.” These guys never disappoint. Their stage show only gets better each time I see them. The lights go down low, the spot illuminates Admiral Time, who breaks into a vicious assault against his drums. The music picks back up, one of the hula girls rides out into the crowd on a sea of fans. Mary Widow walks out onto the stage holding a mic in one hand, the other hand is glowing with a faint blue light. The band starts playing “Helter Skelter” with Mary taking lead vocals. They fight throughout the song, Locrius fights back with his bass lines pushing her back. The song ends and they both fall into the darkness. The last thing we hear is Locrius yelling “I got blisters on me fingers.” The crowd is cheering and laughing; so far it has been a great show.
The protesters resurface, making their way through the crowd again. I laugh when one of them stops in front of me holding a “God hates Fags” sign. The band take their places on stage and start off with a psychotic jig. Walter slowly walks out, holds up an old pocket watch, nods to himself and sits down. Walter explains that the government is conspiring to hide the truth from the people; he informs us that the black out on Mass. Ave. was in fact their mother ship landing and not a transformer exploding. I’m sad to see that the once-full club has now thinned out to almost half. The protestors start to be affected by the music, jumping on stage to perform small burlesque numbers, then leap out into the crowd. Walter points out that Meff is in fact now known as Space Lemmy, she steps forward and shows off her dark greasy hair and oversized facial mole. Walter pulls up Locrius and Mary Widow, ending the show with the Ghostbuster’s theme. Which is still stuck in my head, as promised it was a one of a kind crazy night.                            (Melvin O)

The Liberty Hotel, Boston, MA
Seeing a young band from New Hampshire in one of Boston’s luxury hotels has me curious from the git-go: and my excitement builds as I enter the lobby and see a ton of people in motion walking around the stage and small round tables. This is my kind of place: an affluent pick-up joint with red-hot music. Brooks has a strong, expressive voice, his guitar reeks of Clapton licks, and his music attracts a bigger crowd as the night goes on. His band, Andy Levine on guitar, Kirk Remignatti on bass and backing vocals, Jeff Leroy on keys and backing vocals, and Dave Lombard on drums is a solid, enjoyable unit. I really like “You Don’t Know Why” and “Dance Alone” two power-pop melodies with the emphasis on POWER from their debut CD Counting Down, and I especially dig their late-set version of “Jumpin’ Jack Flash.” This is a party band to keep an eye on, and the Liberty Hotel is rapidly becoming one of my favorite clubs to see a gig.    (A.J. Wachtel)

Black Box Theater, Providence, RI
It’s time to get back in the box for another ear-splitting, hell-raising night of chaos and debauchery. The pride of Providence, Blood Huff take the floor to start things off. The drummer and guitarist with a third member who destroys the violin and keyboards. All three take turns on vocals. Sometimes they sing in beautiful harmony. Sometimes they scream bloody murder. Sometimes they eat pizza during songs and sometimes everything falls apart. Am I watching one band or am I having some sort of mental breakdown? It’s difficult to tell with any degree of certainty. One song is punk rock in your face. Then everything you ever knew about music (and life) is beautifully deconstructed in your face. The last song ends with the violin player, the most gorgeous homeless person I have ever seen in my life, pretty much destroying everything and nearly killing the drummer. This is one of my favorite live bands right now. What a way to start the night.
Dealbreaker had a tough act to follow, but maybe they didn’t notice. The band is a duo with a bassist and minimalist drummer. The drummer-singer started the set off reading a poem and throwing some kind of kids’ firworks. The real fireworks begin when they start the set proper. Pummeling, slow and very heavy, Dealbreaker kill you gradually like early Swans. Dealbreaker might be a one-trick pony, but the trick is on you if you don’t go see them live.
Load Recording Artist and Providence champions Daily Life end the night with another great performance. The band has a guitarist, keyboard player, and singer who uses some samples and loops. A little bit of dance music here, a crooning ballad there, and some feedback and noise and before you know it the night is over and you want more than these short sets will allow. Mop up the blood, hose the room down and go home, we’ll see you next time.            (Eric Baylies)

Middle East Downstairs, Cambridge, MA.
The electric light show is blasting laser light beams all around the room. The dance floor is jam packed with canoodling onlookers. The locals are all painted shades of green. Pat Nelson is singing about nicotine…or is it a hippopotamus, maybe it was both I guess? Most of it’s a blurry mess of space cream and cigarettes. Its like a joyride in your Dad’s mint condition 1974 Dodge Challenger. Pure adrenaline.
The sound of the bass thumping could alone frighten off even the most savage of animals and tame the wicked beast. In fact at one point the Blorg itself made an appearance and was stricken temporarily deaf and beaten abundantly by the mindless rabble of Fiddleheads. Waves of terrifying sound continued to pour from the stage for what could have been hours or even days… but was probably just about ninety minutes.
Beads of sweat pour off the entertainers as their fingers seem to have minds of their own. Thunder and lightning come crackling out of their amplifiers with every powerful lick. The drums crash like hippos stampeding across the stage. Funk in its purest form can be seen oozing from their ears at this point. Every last inhibition has been cut loose and the only thing left is to just go with it, you’re in over your head.
The tribe of painted worshipers pack closer and closer to the stage as Fiddlehead begins to channel the most ancient of funk. Endless chants of “Fiddlehead!” can be heard even from the back of the crowd. The lights flicker in and out, brighter, dimmer, spinning around and around. Complete chaos ensues on the dance floor, a literal pandemonium of air humping and skirt dipping.
Standing near the front of the stage, feeling the air being displaced by the sub-woofers and getting the occasional odd brush from behind is an experience like no other. If your head isn’t instantly turned to jelly by the vibrations, you will experience the feeling of flying, followed by temporary paralysis and a small chance of coma. Children under eight years of age should only attempt this under parent’s supervision. Consult a doctor before ingesting Fiddlehead.
It’s just then you realize you locked your dad’s keys in the car and now you won’t get away with taking it. Also, Wanda, the hot blonde you were making out with in the bathroom has the handsomest knuckle hair you’ve ever seen and the crazy funk band you thought you were watching is actually a polka tribute to David Bowie. Welcome to the land of chemicals and leisure suits.    (Patrick Fitzpatrick)

    We get a lot of calls and emails from bands requesting coverage of their live shows. Please be advised that shows are never assigned for review. Noise writers cover what they choose to attend. It’s logistically impossible for us to honor or acknowledge these requests. The Noise has always had its ears close to the ground in Greater Boston. If you’re doing something even remotely exceptional, we’ll be the first to tell the world. If you’re horrible, same thing.

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