Issue 304/ September 2010

Support Local Music

JENNY DEE & THE DEELINQUENTS
American Legion Park, Georgetown, MA
8/1/10

I grew up on girl groups of the ’60s,
seeing just about every one of them at Murray the K’s shows at the
Brooklyn Fox Theatre. None of those early girl groups have anything
on Jenny Dee & the Deelinquents. Jenny is the whippinest ball of
female sweetness, wailing on every authentic-sounding tune (whether
it be a cover or an original) and shaking those hips in time, while
leading the stylized choreography. The Dee-ettes (my phrase, not theirs)
are two black-dressed gals, shimmying and shaking in mirror image, while
supplying the ever-necessary background ooos and repeated phrases. The
six-piece backing band reads like a who’s who of the Boston music
scene. They’re big on the grooves and the solos are executed
with precision. No wonder they landed an opening slot for J. Geils
and Aerosmith at Fenway Park. Their CD, Keeping Time, sounds
like a juicy bit of ’60s history, but it’s all authentic 2010 music
with a retro fit. This show is videotaped so I’ll be able to watch
it all week on my local Georgetown cable station. (T Max)

SOUND IN STONE
with SHANE HALL, SUN*DRIED ALIBI
The Spot, Providence, RI
7/30/10

Sun*Dried Alibi starts off their set
with the funky jam song “Spinning Around.” Singer Liz Keefe—whose
vocals remind me of Joan Osborne, so full-bodied, with deep emotional
undertones—steps backstage to dance as the band jams away. This is
the bass player Louis Agosto’s second show with the band. If it wasn’t
said, I never would have guessed that, because he fits perfectly. The
band plays solid rock ‘n’ roll. “State Line” slows the set
down; it is a very bluesy number. Liz gets deep down as she sings it,
her eyes closed tight. She reaches out to the crowd for support; her
face is constricted in a painful grimace, like these words are coming
from the deepest part of her soul. The band slows down, until Brendan
the drummer is the only one left playing a slow, quiet cadence. They
start adding layers, building up into “Versions of You,” as
Liz marches in place. Another jam ends their set.

Five-piece band Sound in Stone is playing
with Shane Hall (the experimental folk artist from Massachusetts, not
the banjo player from Tennessee). Sound In Stone and Shane have been
sharing the stage for a few weeks now while on a mini-tour of the East
Coast. They alternate between their songs, giving each act equal time.
Shane runs off the stage to grab a guitar, which prompts an improv song
by Sound in Stone—”This is us wasting time. This is the song
we play when we need to waste time.” Shane jumps back onto the
stage, starting off a very interesting trip. The songs at their core
are folk tunes, but at times played at almost punk tempos. I’m impressed
by Larry Wilson, who plays the keyboard, tuba and trumpet, and sings
backing vocals; one song has him doing all of it. They play an all-acoustic
version of “Stepping Stone,” which is more Sex Pistols than
Paul Revere & the Raiders. They played close to an hour. I enjoyed
it so much I am disappointed when it’s over. (Melvin O)

MUCK & THE MIRES, SPRAINED
ANKLES, THE EVIL STREAKS, THE OPIOIDS
Precinct Bar, Somerville MA
8/6/10

Here’s the scoop:
Frank Strom booked this show himself, and therefore felt it not proper
to review it himself. The clever little devil planned
to tap Nancy Neon for the job, but amidst all the hurly-burly of putting
the show together, made one tiny mistake. He forgot to tell her about
the show. This is where I come into the story—a completely anonymous stranger, plucked from the crowd and plopped in front
of a keypad. Since it is his birthday, I figure the best present I
can give Frank is writing this review and not mentioning how old and haggard he’s
looking…

The show’s line-up
may be great, but I’m just giddy from the star-studded guests in the
crowd: there’s Mr. Kenne Highland… Malibu Lou… B-Face Queer (and
he never comes out)… and Abunai!’s Dan Parmenter,
which is really weird since Abunai! is supposed to be playing up the
street at PA’s Lounge even as we speak! Maybe they broke up again.

Okay, as for the show
itself, for starters, I am confused by the first band, the Opioids.
I can’t quite figure what they have to do with Ron Howard or
the Andy Griffith Show, when clearly they are a revamped version of
the Black Mosettes! It’s former Mosettes Rockin’ Ronnie, Andy, and
Gamp with new addition (and local legend) Boby Bear on drums. Further
confusion: This is the Opioids’ first performance, but bass player Andy says it’s
his last show. Guy needs some sense slapped into him.
Not everyone can have one of the most wonderful, appealing, eclectic
bands around, go completely ignored by an ignorant public, and then
be allowed (or demanded!) to continue it under a new name. As for what
the Opioids sound like, reread the first third of the last sentence.
If this turns out to be a one-shot band… fuck it—I’m moving to
Canada.

Our second band hails
from the deep south (Maynard area, I think), where the surf-punk traditions
are as much a part of life as fried dough and the Mass. Lottery. Fronted
on vocals and twangy guitar by ex-Ghouls Night Out gal Myra, the Evil
Streaks continue that band’s mission, though slightly less surf/monster/hotrod
and slightly more punk this go round. I stress slightly, as GNO songs “Little Witch” and “Stitch
You Up” are still featured prominently. Myra is joined by the all-male
crew of John Kozik (guitar), the Rev (bass) and Sloth (drums). While
this has no relevance to the music, I must point out what an absolutely
fabulous look they’ve got going with the guys in suits and ties and
Myra in a long black evening dress. Like an Astaire & Rogers film
with a beach party soundtrack. Genius!

A lot of ink has been
spilled in the name of headliners Muck & the Mires. When you think
of how many innocent squid were inhumanely milked (or worse) in order
for praise to be written about this band, it seems like an unspeakable
crime! But then you hear them play and against all better judgment,
you realize that it’s completely justified. Tonight’s set serves
as proof—the material (“Hypnotic,” “Doreen,” and an ever-expanding
catalogue of favorites) is brilliantly written and brilliantly performed.
We all know drummer Jesse Best is the finest kind, but let’s not forget
guitarist Brian and bassist JQ are certifiably elite themselves. With
guilty conscience, I concede victory to main Muck Evan Shore and henceforth
revoke my PETA membership. Goddamn moptop bastards!

To paraphrase the late great Steve
Gerber: what do you do after you’ve just seen the best band in the
universe? You stick around for the Sprained Ankles! A tough task having
to follow Muck, but the Ankles are rousing, energetic, and nervy enough
to manage it. While not exactly sounding like them, the Ankles are definitely
spiritual brethren to Scotland’s Revillos and NYC’s Sic Fucks—the
two greatest funny boy/girl bands of the past. High praise well deserved!
It’s a patchy Ankles line-up tonight due to a few band members being
away, but they compensate with crazy drive and determination. Guitarist
Loggy is the real hero of the show, recently injuring his arm but still
playing anyway and running the sound for all the bands on the
bill! (Completely Anonymous Stranger)

LOS WÜNDERTWINS DEL RAP, JEN KEARNEY
& THE LOST ONION, LEO BLAIS
(outside) Major’s Pub, Lowell, MA
The Second Annual Uptown Lowell
Music & Arts Festival
7/24/10

This festival co-exists alongside the
Lowell Folk Festival. I arrive at the big 90-foot-square outdoor tent
and Leo Blais spots me. We get to talking and I find out that everyone
I know in Lowell is attending this show. Minutes later Leo is on the
stage with his five-piece band respectfully covering George Harrison’s
“Beware of Darkness.” The vocals are always melodic and the band
is quite enjoyable. The vibes give the band a cool sound. Guitarist
Adam Douglass may play a little too loud but he’s fresh with his lead
improvisation. “Show Me Love” gets Leo jumping, and “I Meditate
(Walking Around You Baby)” transforms from a Beatle-ish one-note bass
line to a Jimi Hendrix-like jam. They end with “Come Again,” a nice
keyboard composition that rips into an aggressive jam with screaming
theremin.

Before the next act comes on, Anne
and I head off in search of something to eat. The entire population
of Lowell is in the streets and the people-watching is extraordinary—it’s
a melting pot that would rival New York City. In our short walk we land
at Brew’d Awakenings, grab some tasty sandwiches, and take in a performance
by a guitar-playing pretty Cambodian gal folk singer accompanied by
a fiddle player. She mixes folk songs of her country with little-known
American folk songs. A few steps down the street we hear an accurate
funk rendition of “Pick Up the Pieces” with a pretty Asian woman
in the center of a crowded dance floor attracting eyes. Around the corner
there’s a Latino band singing of bullets flying around the marketplace.
The soused street crowd includes a conga line of fools loving every
drunken step. Just across the street at the entrance of Mr. Jalapeño
restaurant we hear a suave tenor voice charming the women in a true
macho Mexican style. The performer in sombrero and stylish bright blue
suit with white trim sings into Anne’s eyes, wooing her for the moment
and beyond. I catch his name etched into his bandana-like collar design—J.
Jose Solis. The street entertainment can’t get any better than
J. Jose, so we head back to our original festival.

On re-arrival Jen Kearney & the
Lost Onion is in mid-set. This five-piece plays a kind of ‘60s soulful
jazz/blues rock. They’ve got spot-on background harmonies and a flugelhorn
for extra color. The female bassist is quite the player, comfortably
moving through her tasty grooves and looking like she’s enjoying it.
Jen, the bandleader, fingers her keys like a jazz player and wails with
the vocals. The band closes their show with a decent cover of Led Zeppelin’s
“What Is and What Should Never Be.”

The next group up includes the guy
who made this whole festival possible—D Tension. His duet rap group
is the entertaining Los Wündertwins Del Rap. D and his partner Effect
are doing their final show tonight and the audience is full of their
fans donning the group’s black and white T-shirt. I said this is a
duet but there is one other person on stage enclosed in cardboard representing
a human-size boom box. On the box it reminds us to put an umlaut over
the U. Wow—I’m at a rap show and the energy level has been pumped
up. The twins quickly spit out their phases, sometimes trading off every
eighth note. They do a tune about wrestler Rick Flair and ask for audience
participation. They get a guy up to do his award-winning Mick Jagger
impersonation. Then they’re into “10 Minutes” with heavy-duty
speedy rhythmic rhymes about a guy almost caught with another man’s
wife. The audience chimes in on the phrase “Honey, I’m home!”
The big charm necklaces and special caps are brought out for their Run
DMC section of the show. There’s a guy in the audience doing authentic
’80s hip hop dancing—and it’s Jeremy Smith—a guy I met earlier
who’s involved with the Western Mass. music scene. D has to scold
the audience for requesting an overdone eight-year-old song, “They
Want Real.” Instead they do their version of Dylan’s “It
Ain’t Me Babe”—and D states that although the band is playing
its last performance, he can almost guarantee a future show because
they still have an entire unreleased album’s worth of material already
recorded. The world moves fast and this duet is just keeping in time.
See you in a couple of months at the reunion. (T Max)

THE CONCORD BALLET ORCHESTRA PLAYERS, GOLIATH, SOMETHING LIKE BANTER,
THE INVISIBLE HOURS
AS220, Providence, RI
7/31/10

I arrive at AS220 not
knowing what to expect. I have been dragged here by a friend who wants
to check out the bands and peek at the new art up on the walls. I stop
at the bar for a drink when I hear things getting started in the next
room.

Rushing over, I find
the Invisible Hours have taken the stage. There is a small crowd scattered
around the room as they launch into the first song, a mellow, mid-paced
rocker with good hooks and nice guitar work at the end. They hit a rough
spot starting their second song but keep moving on. I am impressed by
their sound. The drummer is steady, the bass parts are more complicated
than anything I have heard live recently, and the guitar is both atmospheric
and gritty. Every song is good and has a consistent 1960’s vibe. The
guitar player excitedly stumbles around his space on the stage. The
crowd is into it and someone is videoing them. They are certainly worth
three of the six dollars I spent to get in.

Up next is Something
Like Banter, a solo performer who has set up two computers and a keyboard
on a table in front of the stage. He begins what feels like a lecture.
Ten minutes of talking goes by before he starts his first song as films
are projected on the stage behind him. He creates loops with a keyboard
and continues adding layers as the song progresses. After the song he
continues his “lecture.” The guys in the sound booth look annoyed.
During his next song the gallery lights are slowly turned on in one
part of the room to reveal someone sleeping against the wall. Not only
has he wasted half of his set talking but he has put people to sleep.

Next, someone takes
the stage and begins unpacking a guitar, setting up a pedal board, and
turning on a laptop. This is the solo act Goliath. He begins an instrumental
that picks up where the previous act left off, creating loops and building
layers. The audio is poor. It sounds like a click from a bad cable gets
mixed in with a loop and as the layers build the sound gets muddy. He
catches a groove and begins to jerk his shoulder in time. I turn around
to see three guys in the sound booth mimicking the dance. The remaining
crowd seems disinterested.

Finally, the Concord
Ballet Orchestra Players take the stage. There are two keyboard players,
a guitarist, someone playing a theremin, and a drummer. Fast projections
start on the screens behind them as they vault into a noise jam. After
the first five minutes I’m not sure what to think until they begin
to hone in. By mid-set any doubt begins to subside as I feel teleported
to a show in 1960’s Cambridge. Sadly, this feeling begins to wane
as the keyboard player at the front of the stage begins talking/singing
(he is also the same person who napped through the second performance).
By the end of the set the remaining crowd looks restless after enduring
forty minutes of improvised sound.

The lights come on
and I finish the last of several drinks. I have spent $30 at the bar
and estimate I have earned back about $4.50 of the $6 I paid at the
door. (Heather Kilrow)

SPITZER SPACE TELESCOPE, THE
POINTS NORTH
The 201, Providence, RI
7/14/10

It takes something
incredible to leave me at a loss for words. The Points North hit me
that hard, leaving me speechless for their whole performance. They walk
out onto the very small/intimate space that has been carved out for
the performers, and surrounding them is equipment from the other bands
playing tonight. Chris North, the mandolin player, and Regina Peterson,
a flutist, share the singing duties. Regina is playing an imitation
Irish flute that has been made out of PVC piping. Evan Foundray plays
an old electronic bass synth, with a haunting sound that fills the bottom.
It is a good mix of Celtic and folk. The music is very airy; I actually
close my eyes to absorb it all. As I’m floating in my own space, the
music pulls me to the top of a huge green mountain, warm air brushes
my face, blue skies wrap around me, I have no fears, no worries, just
a strong sense of peace. I open my eyes, realizing how silly I must
look, sitting there with a childlike grin, moving my head in time, with
my eyes shut tight. I’m embarrassed being seen this vulnerable, but
not for allowing the music to touch me. I walk to the back of the room,
sit down in a dark corner, and by closing my eyes allow the newfound
tranquility to return again.

Dan MacDonald walks up to the mic,
with a harmonica hanging around his neck, an acoustic guitar in his
arms, “I’m the Spitzer Space Telescope” he says and starts
to play. His first few songs are a direct Bob Dylan rip-off, complete
with whiney incomprehensible vocals; unlike Dylan, this is annoying.
He stops, laughs, and says “I’d like to thank the two of you that
stayed.” He plays an old Irish jig that gets the crowd clapping.
Dan stops again, breaking into a pretty long-winded story that really
has no point. A few more quick Irish ditties finish up his set. He thanks
everybody again, joking that he is amazed we all stayed. Honestly, I
only stayed because it was a car crash situation. I didn’t want to see,
but I couldn’t look away. (Melvin O)

THE ADAM EZRA GROUP, KBMG
Crocker Park, Marblehead, MA
7/4/10

I round the hill up to Crocker Park
on this beautiful July 4^th and there’s some sort of a country-rock
hoedown in the midst. Now I’ve heard of Dan King the big North Shore
booker/promoter, but was this really him fronting KBMG and more than
adequately picking his six-string? And wait a second, last week
I saw a young Gloucester prodigy with a great guitarist backing her—that
same guitarist, David Brown, is on the open-air stage nimbly knocking
out the tastiest solos. He’s got this great style of using three fingers
on his fretboard while his pinky slide jumps in when needed. The result
is those unique tasty solos. Drummer Dave Matacks starts a strange transition
between two beats that leads into the band’s last number and Dan takes
over the guitar solos—he’s got that blues thang down.

WBZ’s Brian Wheeler, the host of
the festivities, jumps on stage to bring on the Adam Ezra Group. The
beautiful day is enhanced by a scenic view of Marblehead Harbor wearing
a full-crowned rainbow, and the handsome short-bearded Adam Ezra points
it out as he cranks up his rhythmic made-for-success band. Adam has
a great open presence that encourages dancing by the young kids up front.
He’s got a solid masculine voice and an outstanding band highlighted
by percussionist Turtle, who at any moment may pick up his sticks to
whack on the timbales for one fill than switch to the congas or bongos
with less than a 1/4 note between. The band melds sounds of Dave Matthews,
Bruce Springsteen, and the rhythmic side of Paul Simon. They normally
play originals but today they throw in their distinct version of “The
Weight” minus the extra vocals. As their first set ends, the sky darkens
to the contrasting background for a fireworks display over the harbor.
(T Max)

VOODOO BEVY, THE
SILKS, DENVER BOOT
The 201, Providence, RI
7/21/10

William, the singer of Denver Boot,
steps to the front of the stage area to announce “Tonight is Jessica’s
last show with us.” Jessica Cahill, the band’s saw player, nods
her head to the crowd as she takes her seat. Chris Owens stands at the
ready with his mandolin. Alex Garzone from Voodoo Bevy is sitting in
on the drums tonight. The first few songs are safe, standard classic
country tunes. “Namesake” changes all of that—it is a wild
almost bipolar song that jumps into up tempos, slows drastically, and
ends on a slow somber tone. It sets up the country waltz “Losing
Faith” perfectly. The band fades down again, leaving Chris playing
a beautiful solo on his mandolin. The solo leads into “Blackheart,”
a foot-stomping rock-a-billy singalong. The set ends with an old-fashioned
barn-stomping hoedown jam. The only things missing would be a jug and
washboard player.

TJ Kelly, singer and guitarist of the
Silks, walks up to the mic wearing a solid white tuxedo jacket, with
a black bow tie, and solid black pants. Above his head is a mini disco
ball that is sending shards of refracted light around the room. He smiles,
and says”We are the Silks, and we are gonna play you some blues.”
The first note barely rings out, before TJ breaks into a feverish dance.
TJ reminds me of Alvin Lee, who is one of my favorite musicians. They
break into “Walkin’ the Dog,” which I always felt was a
pretty stale tune; I’m amazed how much life and energy they put into
it. TJ starts up a Chuck Berry walk in midsong. “I’m going home,”
he chuckles, leaving the stage still duck-walking. He makes it back
to the stage, and, laughing, he says “I can do this all night,
but you people will be tired, so we have one more for you.” “Dead
Man Blues” gets the crowd moving. TJ jumps into the crowd, grabs
a chair and watches his band play the rest of the song. The music finally
stops. The best compliment comes from the sound guy, who in a
moment of excitement yells out, “That was the most fun I’ve had.
Fucking A, that was great.” I really can’t disagree. It was a great
time.

Voodoo Bevy comes to the stage, looking
very defeated. They all look like they’d rather be somewhere else. Keith
McCurdy, the singer, has a weird effect on his voice. It makes all of
his vocals sound like a mosquito. The drums are way too loud, overpowering
everybody else. The music is a decent alternative pop rock, which does
dip into punk and doom rifts at times. Eric, the bass player from the
Silks, joins them for a song. The last song was so heavily influenced
by Black Sabbath that Tony Iommi should get a writing credit. It ends
with ear-bleeding feedback that the band leaves as they exit the stage.
(Melvin O)

BRIAN DONNELLY & JEFF SAVLON Open Mic Shindig
Gulu Gulu, Salem, MA
7/14/10

The atmosphere in the Gulu Gulu Cafe
is thick with creativity. Performers from all around the North Shore
are in attendance to put their names in the hat and try to get on stage.
So many show up that there is a lottery system for the precious 30 spots
available each open mic night. Brian Donnelly and Jeff Savlon do their
best to host the mad event, keeping order while allowing everyone to
have a fun time. The open mic regulars are all mulling about talking
to each other about upcoming shows and what songs they are going to
perform this evening. The Gulu is filled to capacity as usual, with
a line out the door of those eagerly waiting to catch their favorite
performers. It’s almost reminiscent of an old vaudeville act, with
several of the regulars adding their own flair to the event, as well
as hosts Brian and Jeff keeping the night going with their own little
bits of humor and talent. The hallway to the bathroom is lined with
about 20 guitars, and every single seat in the place is taken. The staff
is hurriedly trying to fill food and beer orders as the bar is nearly
overrun with people. This is truly the best spot to be in Salem every
Wednesday night, perhaps even the whole North Shore. I’ve never seen
so much talent in one cafe at once! (Patrick Fitzpatrick)

 

CHELSEA BERRY, PETE LINDBERG
House of Blues, Boston, MA
6/24/10

There’s no charge
to walk in the front room of the House of Blues where two voices, one
of each sex, demand dominance on one mic in perfect harmony over some
guy named Jesus. It’s got the feel of an intense country hoedown.
The guy is Pete Lindberg and he’s just finishing up his set. The female
with a blond streak in her brown jaw-length hair is the 26 year-old
Chelsea Berry. She transforms the stage to her own with a wave of players
who one by one trickle up to join in. The crowded-seated audience is
activated, frequently rising to their feet with applause between songs.
Chelsea is complimented by another female voice of the cute tattooed
Evie Gariepy. Wolf Ganeddes keeps an eye on his bass charts while Pete
Copland is right on target with his drums and percussion. Last, and
most impressive, is guitarist David Brown. Anything coming out of this
guy’s Kramer Telecaster or Dobro gets my attention—he’s a master’s
master with subtle intricacy and smooth proficiency. Still, Chelsea
Barry’s belted vocals have control of this powerful blues/folk/country-rock
show. I particularly like the innovative lead into “Dangerously High”
and her duet of the bluesy “Running in Circles” with David Brown.
The bulk of her audience, from nibblings to parents, bussed down from
Gloucester for this special Boston CD release party. Her parents even
made it from Alaska. The love in the room is flowing both ways as Chelsea
continually makes note of individuals in attendance who have helped
her get to this point in her quickly rising career. Such a sophisticated
performance from a youthful talent is quite an experience.
(T Max)

GUT BUCKET, WITCH TOMB, RAMPANT
DECAY
KC’s Tap, Pawtucket, RI
7/19/10

Rampant Decay takes the stage.
The first song is old-school thrash metal. They mix death, punk, and
thrash seamlessly. Rich Horror, the singer, has the mic chord wrapped
tightly around his neck as he screams each word. At a metal show, I’ve
always found that the more fuzzy long-haired, jean-shirt-wearing pale
kids head-banging the better. Using this scale, since more than half
of the crowd is going to have sore necks in the morning, I’d say Rampant
Decay is a hit.

Witch Tomb opens with a very gothic
keyboard song. The intro leads into a blisteringly fast metal song.
The drums are loud, sounding like long machine gun blasts. If this were
a cartoon, the guitarist’s fingers would be smoking. This has the basic
building blocks that would raise mere mortals to metal god status. Then
the singer comes in, ruining it all. He either references Satan, or
point-blank yells his name, so much that it could be a new drinking
game. “Hail Satan,” time to drink. “Our Dark Lord,”
chug it down man. The intro was by far the highlight, the build up was
intense, but the problem is, it never goes anywhere after that.

The last band tonight is Gut Bucket,
which is fronted by bassist/singer Kenny Rhule, formerly of Headrot.
Ryan Weeden from the Douche Bags is the second rhythm bassist. The songs
are very heavy. Having dual bassists gives it a really cool doom
feel. One thing I think weird is that the songs seem to start and stop
at odd places. One of the songs actually make me feel like they just
started playing it halfway through it, just to see who would notice.
Another seems like an unfinished thought. The music however is very
melodic. I enjoy the set, despite the random breaks. Looking out
into the ocean off frizzy hair being flown about, I’d say the metal
kids agree. (Melvin O)

 

ILL E GAL
Upstairs Palladium, Worcester, MA
6/26/10

The upstairs of the Palladium is small
and hot. I’m already in a very foul mood, because for some reason,
I was denied a bar bracelet. I’m stone cold sober, but was seen drinking
from a Sprite bottle, and according to the door man since he couldn’t
verify that the bottle only contained soda, so he had to “protect
me.” So now I’m crammed in a very small area, with about 200 overweight
men, mostly shirtless, all sweating, wearing the face paint of their
favorite psychopathic artist, and I’m beyond thirsty. Every few minutes
a new Juggalo chant starts up, everybody is jumping around, getting
rowdy, and I’m not the happiest of campers to say the least.

The lights drop out, as a deep-bass-filled
drum loop fills our ears. From the darkness walks out this small girl
using a green bandana as a shirt, with huge bug-eyed sunglasses, and
a head full of green and white dreadfalls. Ill E Gal tells everyone
that she is so happy to be playing the Palladium for the first time.
Her set consists of several danceable hip hop tracks, with catchy beats,
and singalong lyrics. Her little nasally vocals fill the room, as she
sways back and forth across the stage. Every few songs, a friend joins
her on stage, lending a nice melodic background to the hooks. She has
the crowd jumping, singing along, and shaking their sweaty asses off.
After her set, she jumps off the stage into the crowd to sign autographs
and talk to fans.

I had just about forgotten how thirsty
I was during her performance; she kept the show moving along, opening
the club up for Axe Murder Boyz and Blaze Your Dead Homie to kill it.
Which they did. (Melvin O)

 

THE INCREDIBLE CASUALS
The Beachcomber, Wellfleet, MA
8/8/10

It’s always fun taking the short
hop down to the Cape to visit the Beachcomber, especially when it’s
to see a band that has played there for the past 30 years! I kid you
not. The Incredible Casuals are on stage when Anne and I finish our
tanning down on the beautiful Atlantic Ocean beach and head up the 200
foot sandy cliff. I spot the back of drummer Rikki Bates’ dress through
the rear window as we hustle to get inside the club before “Picnic
Ape” is done. “Picnic Ape,” the band’s second vinyl single was
one of my favorite songs when it was originally released in 1982. I
notice the sound guy is doing a lot more playful mixing than normal
and find out that he’s mixed the band more times than he can count.
Guitarist John Stampinato (from NRBQ) is stage left in his Hawaiian
style shirt and offers the more gruff vocals. Stage right is guitarist
Aaron Spade (the new guy in the band—he joined in ’88) dawning shades
and a necktie and has a sweeter tenor. Center front is Chandler Travis
the class clown with more emphasis on class than clown. They roll through
originals and covers while the audience dances to every song. The look
of the place in some way reminds me of the Beatles playing the Cavern
with everyone boppin’ up and down—only this place has sand on the
floor and the sweet fragrance of summer sweat. When the band takes a
break they are treated like rock stars with everyone wanting to say
hi and share their “Incredible” stories. It’s an honor to witness
these four musicians deliver this incredible feat. (T Max)

JOE FLETCHER, CAROLINE HECHT, BRIAN MINTO
Tazza Caffe, Providence, RI
6/23/10

Joe Fletcher of the Wrong Reasons opens
up this installment of the Whiskey Girl Wednesday Showcase. He
walks onto the stage dressed in dark denim clothes and pointed leather
boots, armed with just his acoustic guitar. He instantly owns the room,
even before the first hauntingly soulful words leave his mouth. After
a handful of solo material, a special guest, Lily Costner, joins him
on stage. Lilly’s performance of “Every Heartbroken Man”
leaves me stunned. Her vocals are so full of sadness that it is incredibly
moving. Chris Owens hops up next; he comes and goes throughout the night
bringing either a fiddle or a mandolin to the stage. Joe’s set ends
with Brian Minto joining in, blasting away on his harmonica in an impromptu
jam that fills the room with a warm energy. People are up and dancing.

The very petite and pretty Caroline
Hecht walks onto the stage wearing a sundress and a large electric guitar
strapped across her chest. Her Joni Mitchell-esque vocals float through
the air in a very depressing manner. She jokes that she is trying to
get all the depressing songs out of the way early. Eric D joins her
with smooth lines on his standup bass, but the tone of the songs never
changes. The crowd slowly grows restless, and at times is louder than
the band. I give Caroline credit for never once swaying from her set
list—she just keeps plugging away.

Brian Minto storms the stage looking
like a deranged Muppet. A tight bandana barely holds back his overflowing
head of hair, and the bushy beard is reminiscent of a young Jerry Garcia.
He is thrown a quick roadblock when his very first strum breaks a guitar
string. He laughs it off, saying, “I don’t need that, do I?” He
opts to change guitars entirely after a few failed chord changes. Brian
gives a few quick strums on the new guitar, then stops, smiles at the
crowd, and explains how tonight he wants to interpret the progression
of a relationship through song. He plays a few more bars, stops for
a second to explain the natural progression is you meet someone, you’re
happy in love, then when things start to go bad you have to kill them.
Once Brian starts going, he is on fire. His set is short, but he definitely
raises the energy level.

Joe Fletcher’s second set starts
out with Chris Owens on mandolin, and Alex Garzone on drums. This set
rocks—the songs are faster than in the first set, and the players
build off one another with intensity. Every special guest crams onto
the small stage for the finale, “Too Many Doors.” It’s an audience
favorite and they keep singing the catchy chorus, even after the band
has stopped playing. (Melvin O)

LIGHTNING BOLT, WHAT CHEER?
BRIGADE
The 201, Providence, RI
7/26/10

The lights are down in the 201, as
I try to make my way to the stage. It is so dark I can barely see the
people standing around me. Someone starts yelling to my left, as I turn
my head to see what is going on, a trumpet explodes in my right ear.
Dead Chop Chop, the person yelling, is one of the percussionists of
What Cheer? Brigade, wears a hooded mask as he leads an almost endless
marching band through the crowd. I try counting how many members and
come up with 17, but it is impossible to say for sure, since none of
the band stands still for longer than a second. The crowd looks so tribal,
the way they move around, it looks like a collective orgasm brought
on by the music. The band’s tempo is very fast: it’s punk rock played
by a marching band. The only words are what ever Dead Chop Chop
happens to yell into the crowd and he is constantly yelling. I’m
not sure exactly what he is saying, but it brings the frenzy further.
The band is running in and out of the crowd, forcing us to participate.
A trombone slide is inches from my nose, as Samantha the cymbal player
launches herself into the crowd, creating a mini slam dance pit. Annelise,
a bass drum player, starts crowd surfing standing on her drum, never
missing a beat. Neil, one of the trumpet players, is switching dance
partners with every blink of the eye he has some one new. The music
stops abruptly, I am soaked with sweat, and welcome this break between
bands to get some air.

I walk back in during Lightning Bolt’s
second song. I am surprised to see that it is just two guys. Brian Chippendale
plays the drums and provides the vocals, with Brian Gibson playing a
bass strung with banjo strings. Brian’s vocals are on a distorted
delay and the music is very early Godflesh with a healthy dose of the
early pop side of Nine Inch Nails. The bass is the standout driving
force of each song. The banjo strings, definitely give the music a distinct
sound. The bass is very wild over the mechanized industrial drums; the
delayed vocals are very spacey. All the parts seem random, almost ill-fitting
at times, but work as a whole.

Outside the club, Dead Chop Chop is
hosting a drum off, between random people on the street. A few people
stop to drum their hearts out, the crowd judges them with cheers. It
comes down to a battle of two cities, Providence vs. Boston. A final
drum off is needed to decide who wins the title of best street drummer.
Boston does her best, but Providence takes the title. Dead Chop Chop
thanks us all, saying the cops have been nice to let us hang and have
fun, but it’s time to go home.
(Melvin O)

 

ERIN HARPE & THE DELTA SWINGERS
American Legion Park, Georgetown, MA
8/15/10

Missy Erin Harpe done this here show
by her lonesome many moons ago and I was rightly dumbfounded by the
old musics she’d done recrated. Was she really birthed in the back
of a Mississippi delta shack? Since then she be vibratin’ with
the D-Swingin’ bass man Jim, Rosey suckin’ mouth harp, and keepin’
time Bob. It’s a perty day and the four of thems is loungin’ on
the outdoor wooden shed, ’cept for Rosey who just gotsta stand. The
mixin’ of the sounds through the e-lectronic speaker system is just
ear pleasin’ as a whippoorwill, an’ I come to expect that from dear
Henry (More Sound Company of Jaffrey, NH—he done asked fer that there
plug). Missy Erin be firmly singin’ an’ twangin’ the ol’ style
finger pickin’ her daddy done taught her. Her cowboy boots er bouncin’
and her polka dots dance with every breeze as the boys make rhythm to
Memphis Mini’s “Be My Chauffeur.” The sexual finesse stays proper
to this gatherin’ of child to granmammy. But I reckon Miss Erin could
swell up a tidal wave if she beed desirin’. Keepin’ time Bob’s
backgroun’ singin’ hits the head whether he be manly or pretty soundin’.
Offstage Bob has a mind to humor me, sayin’ he plays in Likewhip—we’re
not as good as Lovewhip. I be explainin’ Lovewhip is here Miss Erin
and Mr. Jim’s e-lectronic booty boundin’ bumpin’ music band. The
Delta Swinger gang snaps out a Lovewhip of “Vertual Booty Machine”—only
they done bluesified it. Before “Fishin Blues” Erin claims she came
to realize the song meanin’ was ’bout equal rights of each here
sex to go fishin’, but never knowed what fishin’ was ’bout when
her daddy done taught her the tune—remember she was still on his knee.
I still recon it’s all too fishy for me to be figgerin’. I just
like the dancin’ polka dots and the way the Swingers crank like my
pappy’s pappy. Y’all come back now. (Timmy Max)

DEATH BY FAME, THE ICE CREAM TRUCKS, THE NORTH LOT, MARK MANDEVILLE
& RIANNE RICHARDS, JOHN COLVERT
Weekly Dig Showcase
Harpers Ferry, Allston, MA
6/30/10

John Colvert starts up the night. Tonight
feels like a lazy summer evening, but John and his band waste no time
diving right into their set which is heavily dosed with Americana and
folk influences. His songs are poignant and his delivery is sincere.
He’s backed by a great band that features Noel Coakley, a prominent
member of the New England Americana scene and a newcomer on drums, Rick
Cranford. Rick, from Seattle, Washington, recently relocated to Massachusetts
and holds his own quite nicely up to this stellar line-up of musicians.
John Colvert and crew set the stage and raise the bar high; it’s going
to be a great night.

John Colvert wraps up his set and the
duo of Rianne Richards and Mark Mandeville takes the stage. Though this
couple is essentially two thirds of the band the Accident That Led Me
to the World, it is clear tonight they do not represent that entity,
playing more traditional bluegrass, folk and blues. Donning an acoustic
guitar, a ukulele and a small flute, the music is beautifully intimate
and sparse. The room is quiet as the pair amazes the crowd with their
exceptional harmonies and melodic reach. It’s a lovely set, but by
the end, I’m ready for some heavier, louder music. Fortunately, the
North Lot complies.

They put together a raucous set that
features the theme to That ’70s Show as a cover as well as a mashup
of modern-day rap songs set to a fun funky beat, delivered with an in-your-
face attitude which to be honest, nails it. It’s a great set, and
even though it’s a Wednesday night, the crowd is starting to loosen
up and get into it.

The Ice Cream Trucks is a band relatively
new to the Boston scene. Tonight they drove up from the South Shore
ready to hand out treats top all the kids. Fortunately their tunes aren’t
cold but red hot and very refreshing. Easily, the most eclectic group
of the night, the line-up of the Ice Cream Trucks consist of a mandolin,
xylophone, acoustic guitar and various percussion, the most prominent
of which is a cahone drumbox. The band does and amazing version of Dinosaur
Jr’s “Feel the Pain” and the crowd clusters in towards the stage
to check out this unique line-up. Singer Jimmy Talbot does an excellent
job belting out tune after tune. This is a band to watch.

Closing out the night is Death by Fame,
who won the “honor” of headlining on a Wednesday night. These guys
take it in stride and put on a dazzling show of Green Day meets AC/DC
rock ’n’ roll. They have it all: an energetic stage show, a look
that is professional but at the same time cutting-edge as well as songs
with memorable hooks and catchy choruses. But best of all, this power
trio even has what most bands only dream about: hot girls watching them!
A note to the beautiful brunette in the skin-tight white mini dress:
my friend Tim wants your number. (Kier Byrnes)

JAY ALLEN & THE ARCH-CRIMINALS, THE FURIOUSITY
Baseball Tavern, Boston MA 7/9/10

Typically, there’s some doubt and
suspicion about the first band, resulting in the typical audience reaction:
they ignore them! But in one of the quickest turnarounds I’ve ever
witnessed, the Furiousity makes some converts after only about two songs.
The lowdown is simple—it’s four girls and one guy, a handful of
chords, and a whole lotta tempo and volume. Alternate description: the
Dead Kennedys with female vocals. And such vocals they are! Quivering
and shivering with vibrato, it’s very nearly yodeling! They also bring
youth to the table, which always benefits punk rock by adding energy,
sincerity and belief in the form. There is one funny bit of incongruity,
though: while the Furiousity sound very angry, on the other hand, you’ll
find them selling homemade stuffed animals at their merch table! Favorite
new band for sure.

Next on the hit list are Jay Allen
& the Arch-Criminals, adding a little creative diversity to the
otherwise full-tilt punk rock conventions. In the Queen’s English,
that’s simply seasoning the mix with folk, garage, blues and other
musical stylings. As I’m so accustomed to Jay’s material played
solo acoustic from years of hearing it that way, it’s still a fresh
pleasure hearing it done up in full band mode. So much of a pleasure,
in fact, that one (me) wants some more of it—new songs, that is. I
can see Jay nervously looking around for a subterfuge to help distract,
and he pulls out the very subterfuginous Miss Vikki Sixx for a few cover
tunes… but this can only distract for so long. Okay, it can distract
one (me) for many years if given the chance, but I still want new songs,
dammit! Or at least some old ones I haven’t heard in awhile (“Frying
Pan Justice” for a start). (Frank Strom)

STEVE CARAWAY’s Open Mic
Dogbar, Gloucester
MA
7/13/10

The lights are low
and the Dogbar is filled with the unmistakable sound of Steve Caraway
playing his opening set. Steve is a solo power-pop artist heavily influenced
by Elvis Costello. After his set, he opens up the stage to the regular
cast of characters who show up every week for the open mic. Along with
several familiar faces, there are also the few random folks who occasionally
come from far and wide just to play at the Dogbar. It’s a night filled
with several different genres ranging from acoustic folk to the occasional
rock band and even some spoken word in between. Steve takes care of
all the equipment and sound settings, so all you have to worry about
is showing up with your instrument. The bar and patio are filled with
happy drinkers and it’s a wonderful way to spend a Tuesday evening
in Gloucester. (Patrick Fitzpatrick)

ARAB ON RADAR, TINSEL TEETH, WHOREPAINT
AS220, Providence, RI
7/10/10

This is the first sold
out show I have seen at AS220 in over 20 years. It’s way too crowded
for me, but it is quite a bill. Whorepaint comes out to destroy, wailing
away like the Swans before launching into a noise rock suicide serenade.
Whorepaint has more energy than Three Mile Island is hotter than the
sun.

Tinsel Teeth comes
out with shirts off and blood flowing. How much of the blood is real?
I don’t know. I do know they turn the room into a sweatlodge, with
ruptured eardrums and spleens. Imagine Wendy O. Williams with a Providence
noise band backing her up and you have the modern sound abortionists
known as Tinsel Teeth. A crazy good performance.

If Mother Theresa came
back from the dead, I doubt the line would be as long as it was for
Arab On Radar, and not as many people would have passed out and had
epiphanies. With singer Eric Paul looking more and more like Curly of
the Three Stooges, AOR sounds like a record skipping on the
right groove. Who knew four men in matching blue dickies with songs
about getting raped by gym teachers would write history with lightning?
An amazing, albeit brief, performance from one of the greatest Providence
bands in the history of the universe. Let’s put Mike Mountain and
Arab On Radar’s Eric on a bill together and see who is the best frontman
in New England, and who gets thrown in an asylum first. (Eric Baylies)

BABY STRANGE
Reunion Show
The Middle East Upstairs, Cambridge, MA
7/10/10

Tonight is the second
night of Baby Strange reunion shows at the Middle East Up. I don’t
think I’ve ever been this excited for a local music show—ever. This
evening, the band is playing their EP, The
Make-Out Sessions (2002) and
their full-length album Put
Out (2004) for another huge
audience. To see the excitement of the crowd both last night and tonight,
it’s obvious that this band has been sorely missed. With only two
weeks practice, Eric Deneen (lead vocals), Ryan Ennis (drums), Jamie
Brown (rhythm guitar), Tim Hare (bass), and Johnny Zaremba (“fill-in”
lead guitarist, formerly of Say When) makes it look way too easy. The
music is honest, intense, sexy and danceable. The crowd adores them
and I love what I see. I gain a new appreciation for the songs I heard
years before and I anxiously await another “reunion” show—sooner
than later. (Kathy Gaalaas)

SAM ADAMS, FLYRYDAZ, COLIN McLAUGHLIN
The House of Blues, Boston, MA
7/16/10

The long line stretches
down the street and I immediately notice it’s packed with teenage
girls waiting for a night of local rappers who are making names for
themselves on the national level. McLaughlin, a Boston University student
and pop-rapper does a short set and opens with “Back to The Wall”
and “Knockout” and plays his hit “Airplanes” to a packed house
who sing along with all his lyrics. The pop orchestration in his raps
make the songs listenable and memorable. The Flyrydaz, three local guys,
raises the energy level and again it’s cool watching three tiers of
bare legs in skirts singing the words to all the raps with their hands
collectively waving in the air. There’s a lot going on during their
set. Besides being very energetic and jumping around non-stop as they
rap and then talk to the crowd, the audience responds very well as the
excitement increases. Then the DJ du jour plays a neat re-mix cover
of “She Hates Me” by Puddle of Mudd. And the place responds accordingly.

When Massachusetts
native, 22 year old Trinity College senior Sam Adams hits the stage,
the place goes wild. Currently, Sam has the most played melodies on
iTunes and the crowd goes beserk; loudly verbalizing their anticipation
of his performance. He professionally seduces the masses with his mix
of electronic pop and hip-hop. Raps like “Coast To Coast,” “I
Hate College,” “Driving Me Crazy,” and the new tune “Jets Over
Boston,” all done with a live percussionist/ drummer and a bassist
onstage with him just keep pushing the notch even higher. And when Sam
runs around mid-set smugly smirking “Fuck the Lakers” while wearing
a number 20 Allen Celtics shirt, this local throng loves
it and screams in approval. This kid’s got a ton of talent, works
the crowd very well and he’s local and loves it. Listen to these acts—they have a lot
to say. (A.J. Wachtel)

BULLETBREED
Morey’s Tavern, Maynard, MA
6/26/10

Okay, a free two-hour
show featuring my favorite band? No fucking way do I miss this! The
band plays a two-hour mix of covers and their own material. Drummer
Bowie pounds a deafening beat for the others to follow, and fists pump
the air with every note. Lead singer Conor is a beast on the mic, and
if it weren’t for the enclosed space, the pit would be in full swing
before the third song. The crowd’s on its feet for much of the set,
shouting out songs for the band and showing much love to a foursome
that put everything they have into their music. Jeff on guitar and Naze
on bass round out the group. It’s a show that never once loses its
momentum. (Max Bowen)

MARIA MONK, CHRIS ROSENQUEST
The 201, Providence, RI
7/11/10

The 201 is very dark, a no glamour
type of club. It has a very simple set up, a bar with several unusual
beers on tap, a few tables, couches, and a great big space for the bands
to play. Tonight, it seems the bands are playing to each other, and
the few stragglers, myself included, that happen to wander in off the
street.

A very tall, skinny, bearded man walks
up to the mic. He doesn’t announce that he is Chris Rosenquest; he
just plays a quick ditty on an acoustic guitar. The small ditty starts
to play back on a continuous loop. For the rest of the show every song
starts out this way, with Chris constantly adding to the loop, until
it sounds like a full band playing behind him. He stops to tell about
the splinter that ruined his life. No matter how hard everyone tried,
they couldn’t get the splinter free from his foot. Finally, disgusted
with dealing with it, in severely disgruntled mood, he heads to the
ER. At the ER, a very burly male nurse corners him, promising if he
behaves and acts like a big boy, he will get a Dora the Explorer sticker.
As the laughter dies down, Chris breaks into a beat box, this is the
basis for the last song’s loop. It builds up quickly into a song which
I can easily see would have been a dance-along if more people were there.

This is Maria Monk’s second show
ever. Pete, the bass player, and Mark, one of the guitarists, formerly
of Brother Kite, stand to the back of the stage. Christian, the lead
singer and second guitarist, stands center stage. Christian is a ball
of energy, kicking his legs, beating up his guitar, jumping around the
stage; at times he ends up several feet away from the vocal mic. The
songs are very rhythmic, the music is extremely tight. The lyrics
are definitely for the intellectual. Christian jumps back toward the
amp; as the feedback starts, he harnesses it, directs it, and integrates
it into the song. This is the best display of using feedback I’ve
heard since Neil Young’s “Arc.” “Ender’s Game” quickly becomes
my favorite song of the set. It has a very playful Modest Mouse
feel. The last song starts out fast in a massive chaotic explosion that
slowly tightens up, only to explode again, leaving Christian rocking
back and forth on the ground hugging his guitar to his chest. (Melvin
O)

OTHELLO
Shakespeare on the Common, Boston, MA
8/11/10

I am writing this review out of a sincere
love for Shakespeare. On the way to the Common from The School of Groove
in Cambridge, I saw a fellow get hit by a car on Cambridge Ave., and
get twisted into something funky, a cartoon really, but on with the
show! Thanks to J for saving me a sweet spot on the rough directly behind
the tall chair section!

Sparse staging, but visually commanding,
with a cagy box for lighting. It was modern, very functional, but visually
jarring in size and perspective to the intimate musings tucked neatly
into the play behind doors and wedded embattlements. This is probably
the first time I have ever said “Less is more,” but the colors of
cold steel and early 20^th-century military garb are becoming
an institutional yet cost-effective drag on American productions of
Shakespeare.

Desdemona, you seemed like you had
more fun as Ariel, but well-played under the given weather—those lights
are hot! You delivered baby, but that was a vanilla take on what could
have been chocolate ice cream. Your color scheme (deliberate?) visually
identifying you icily apart from others in a very Neapolitan fashion.
I have to admit I laughed aloud in your final throes of death, and I
hope you were having as much fun on the inside! You really worked to
convince Othello of your love, but alas your fate has been determined.
Bravo!

The chap who played Iago seemed a little
sullen and detached from the cunningness usually poured into the vessel
of that dagger. He seemed to inhabit the role best when that much-beloved
villain had best keep his mouth shut, superbly mimed in moments of mortal
terror following the fall of Cassio. In your more revealing moments,
the droning off-kilter pedal-point did you no help whatsoever. I found
that the better played Rodrigo seemed to rush an attempted brooding
Iago; have fun with those dynamics! The (accidental?) stutter in the
second act could have been played up to a superb suit-insulated stammer.
It made me think though, by coming off so squeamishly, Othello’s presence
and temper rang out with greater definition by comparison, thoughts?

Othello, you picked up a considerable
amount of steam and respect from both the audience and your crew proportionate
to the amount of energy you delivered to the performance. Your early
hints of a raging Calibanesque Othello got me thinking, but you were
too busy playing nice at court. Your relative soft-spokenness in the
first act later was balanced by some adrenaline fueled moments, like when
you patiently wheeled your sleeping wife to her birdbath of doom. I was
going to say this about Desdemona, but she was asleep during your most
intimate proscenium moments with her: the lack of romantic sparks seemed
to be from thy issue General. At ease man! (Trevor Doherty)

We get a lot of
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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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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 in the Noise. It’s logistically impossible for us to honor or acknowledge these requests. Noise writers are their own bosses and review the shows they choose to attend. The Noise has always had its ears close to the ground in Greater Boston and now we’re spreading out our reviews all over New England. If your band is doing something even remotely exceptional, we’ll be the first to tell the world. If you’re horrible, same thing. Interested in writing live reviews? Email
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