The Days of Lore

Electric Company

Friday, November 11th, 2011 | musiX, pdX | No Comments

LIVE: Wild Flag and Drew Grow & the Pastor’s Wives at Doug Fir, 11.9.11

Supergroups are never super. Therefore, Wild Flag can’t be considered a supergroup. The former Sleater-Kinney/Minders/Helium members have formed a great American rock band—incredibly fun songs, endless energy—I almost forgot what it’s like to experience a real rock show. Rock ‘n’ roll mythology seems to be what fuels Wild Flag. They unabashedly celebrate it in their songs. They act it out onstage. And I love them all the more for it. So did the sold-out crowd at the Doug Fir, which on this night might as well have been Budokon … save for the fact audience members stood rather than sit and clap politely.

Drew Grow & the Pasture’s Wives led things off with an eclectic, slightly overwrought set of strummy rock jams. The energy was there, but the songs weren’t all that memorable. Then again, I need to be beaten over the head … which is where Wild Flag comes in.

I’ve always thought the best bands were the ones in which you could pick out the individual personalities. And Wild Flag has plenty of it. Former Helium axetress Mary Timony’s controlled guitar lines and (comparatively) prim stage presence were met with Carrie Brownstein’s Joey Ramone hiccup and Jimmy Page-meets-Pete Townshend flash (complete with lots of leg kicks and windmills). Basher Janet Weiss and keyboardist Rebecca Cole make up the concrete-slab rhythm section, and occasionally exchanged wide smiles while providing the bulk of the grrrl-group harmonies.

Musically Wild Flag is somewhere in the neighborhood of Cheap Trick meets Sonic Youth meets The Supremes—gloriously tight and sloppy all at once, compact power-pop songs occasionally giving way to extended noise freakouts (most notably on the terrific “Glass Tambourine”). Wild Flag ran through the entire record, hitting on eternally endearing songs like “Boom” and “Electric Band.” These old-hands tap into the primal innocence and reckless abandon of teen punks with more conviction than any of this week’s hot blog’s yesterday’s news. Probably because this is no act.

It remained that way right on through the encore, which led off seamlessly with The Ramones’ “Judy Is a Punk.” The only lapse of the evening was when Brownstein slipped into Portlandia mode. It seems the ladies of Wild Flag had received coupons for free acupuncture. Brownstein explained how she thought she would have to cancel because of prior plans, only to realize that those prior plans included an acupuncture appointment. “Only in Portland,” she said. I feared Fred Armisen might appear onstage in a dress at any moment. That surely would have been no rock ‘n’ roll fun.

Photo by Mark Lore

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Tags: Carrie Brownstein, Doug Fir, Drew Grow & the Pasture's Wives, Helium, Janet Weiss, live review, Mary Timony, Portland music, Rebecca Cole, Sleater-Kinney, Wild Flag

Light Songs

Monday, January 31st, 2011 | musiX, pdX | 3 Comments

LIVE: Old 97’s at the Wonder Ballroom, 1.25.11

“I’m surprised no one’s had a seizure yet.” Old 97’s frontman Rhett Miller delivered a good-natured jab in what ended up being a running joke throughout the night: the Wonder Ballroom’s newly installed stage lights, which were a cross between a KISS concert and a Pink Floyd Laser Spectacular. At one point I thought the mother ship had returned from Abell 3267.

The lights were only a slight distraction from an otherwise typically gritty and sweaty Old 97’s performance. TDoL’s favorite Dallas drawlers are a live band through and through, which might have something to do with their longevity. With the music industry shifting (or collapsing, depending on how you look at it) one thing is clear: If a band wants to make a career of it, you’d better hit the road and play like you mean it … or sell songs to TV commercials. The Old 97’s have wisely done both. Call it survival skills.

OK, it doesn’t hurt that Miller and Co. have almost two decades-worth of sturdy pop gems to pull from, most of which they can crank out on any given night. And tonight’s performance delivered a few surprises, including the excellent “Buick City Complex” from the band’s 2001 Brit Invasion nod Satellite Rides. In fact, the thing I noticed most was how well the Old 97’s poppier material meshed with their twangy stuff. I don’t even like “Murder (Or a Heart Attack).” But the song—peeled from the band’s most polished effort Fight Songs—became a raucous power pop classic on this night. Bassist Murry Hammond divvied up a fair amount of his tunes, including the neo-Cash shuffler “You Were Born to Be In Battle,” “W. TX Teardrops” and the acoustic heartbreaker “Valentine,” one of the band’s greats (I may or may not have teared up a little, just don’t tell anyone). All this is backed by guitarist/secret weapon Ken Bethea and drummer Philip Peeples, who I’m betting has to change his snare head after every show.

The performance was marked by the occasional flubbed note and missed start, but that’s what makes it an Old 97’s show—this is punk rock at heart, and I’d trade in perfection/pretension for energy any day. I’ve also decided that an Old 97’s show is a good place for sociological experiments: The interplay between members who’ve shared the stage for 18 years—the grins, the glares. Not to mention the people who make up an Old 97’s audience: Mustachioed hipsters, leather-clad punks, pearl-button snap aficionados, babysitter payers, babysitters, me, you. All drenched in whiskey, a little Rhett Miller sweat and the Wonder Ballroom’s lighting system, which I’m happy to report did not cause anyone to lose their minds. The Old 97’s took care of that.

Photo by Mark Lore

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Tags: Ken Bethea, live review, Murry Hammond, Old 97's, Philip Peeples, Rhett Miller, Wonder Ballroom

KISS WEEK! Alive MCMXCIX

Friday, November 20th, 2009 | musiX, pdX | No Comments

Live: KISS and Buckcherry at the Rose Garden, 11.17.09

It’s interesting to think about the pre-show rituals for a KISS concert in 2009. There’s less beer swilling and doobie smoking in the parking lot, and a lot more face-painting with the fam before packing into the mini-van to head down to the arena.

I was standing in front of the stage with four other (real) photographers right before the show. I stared out into the large crowd … well, not just any crowd—the KISS Army! KISS Nation! Which is sort of the equivalent of Fast Food Nation (OK, maybe Applebee’s Nation). Lots of makeup. Lots of KISS shirts covering portly bellies. Lots of middle-agers and their kids. They forked out their dough (tickets are anywhere from $20-$126) and were ready for that 60-foot curtain in front of the stage to drop. As the final chords of Zeppelin’s “Rock and Roll” rang through the house speakers, those famous words cut through the darkness and the curtain fell. I immediately turned into a teenager.

Paul Stanley and Gene Simmons are large men—even without the heels. And 35 years in, they play their parts like seasoned actors in a Broadway production, rarely deviating from the script. If you’ve been to a KISS show before you know you’re going to get the classics: “Strutter,” “Shout It Out Loud,” “Cold Gin” (which these days is preceded by a PSA from Stanley telling audience members not to drink and drive) and “Detroit Rock City” (a song whose narrator meets his end after drinking and driving). All great songs. But how about “Love Theme From Kiss”? Or “Plaster Caster”? “The Oath”?

I’ve seen hundreds of KISS performances—four in person, many more on VHS and DVD—and I’ve heard the same between-song banter over and over and over. So I’m always looking for that rare break in the script. I finally got it about two-thirds into the show at the expense of a hooligan in the upper deck. Paul was about to go into his spiel about extended encores, when out of nowhere … “Y’all are gonna get to see me shove a light pen up a muthafucka’s ass.” Whoa. Paul, don’t forget there are children in the audience. Anyway, doesn’t this guy know that Stanley Eisen doesn’t tolerate lasers in his eye? After a short, one-sided exchange, the Starchild snapped back into character as if nothing happened.

KISS is a tighter band today than perhaps it’s ever been. Yes, it’s incredibly lame that drummer Eric Singer and guitarist Tommy Thayer are wearing Peter Criss and Ace Frehley’s makeup (couldn’t they have come up with new characters? Perhaps some sort of exotic bird? Maybe a panda?), but KISS’ new lease on life wouldn’t be possible without them. Especially Singer, who drums circles around Criss. Thayer’s a fine musician, too, though everything that came from his fretboard was lifted from the Space Ace.

Not to mention letting Thayer sing “Shock Me” is fucking sacrilege.

But it’s about recreating that classic show, which is still big and loud and fun. KISS has retained the best and most campy elements from the ’70s—fog, fireworks, ticker tape parades, blood spitting—brought into the aughts with banks of video monitors that flashed images of old album covers and graphics that followed along with the songs. At one point, the cover of Sonic Boom appeared overhead as Stanley directed those in attendance to head down to Wal-Mart and pick up a copy. A commercial? I guess it’s the KISS version of an indie band telling a crowd they have a merch table with shirts and 7-inches? Can we go with that?

But hand it to Gene Simmons and Paul Stanley for still knowing how to rock ‘n’ roll all night—performing hundreds of shows a year, for more than two hours a night. And for a couple of guys approaching senior citizenship, they still get around pretty well in those 7-inch heels. These guys are the Kings of the Nighttime World. The Knights in Satan’s Service. And though I found myself cringing a few times, a KISS concert is still the greatest show on earth.

Photos by Mark Lore

In memory of Mark Louis Arnone, Feb. 24, 1973 - Oct. 21, 2009

Tags: Ace Frehley, Eric Singer, Gene Simmons, KISS, KISS WEEK, live review, Paul Stanley, Peter Criss, Portland, Sonic Boom, Tommy Thayer

Not such a letdown

Monday, December 29th, 2008 | musiX, pdX | No Comments

Live: Letdown and Biltmore Dive at Red and Black Cafe, 12.27.08

Thick piles of cables snaked up from the floor, finding their way into a bank of effects boxes and a keyboard with a sticker that read “Sad Music Makes Me Happy.” Sad music makes me happy, too, but the sight of all that gadgetry made me more anxious than anything … you never know what you’re going to get when someone has a lot of toys at their disposal.

Letdown is the moniker of Portland electro-whiz David Bolt. He knows his way around a Korg or three—but he also knows his way around a hook. Perhaps he builds his melodies first, which only increases the effectiveness of all the other bleeps and buzzes. And the melody always came through in his originals (notably “Nauseous Monster”) and a few well-chosen covers (Portishead’s “The Rip”). I found myself getting caught up in a piano line, only to have it dissipate into a rumbling drum break or a gurgling wash of synth before returning. Vocals were a nice addition to Letdown’s music (he did contribute vox in his other project The Delta Mirror), which were heavily saturated in reverb and echo. Dare I call it sad-bastard music?

Which brings me back to that sticker plastered on the front of the keyboard. Letdown’s music is sad, and beautiful, even when the songs are building into apocalyptic crescendos. He knows the power of dynamics, isolating sounds at just the right times. And as the music swelled, he never jammed copious noise into a jam simply because he could. It was well-orchestrated, like a chef in his kitchen expertly attending to his different dishes.

Opener Scott Worley—aka Biltmore Dive—kept things soft, simple and swirly. Most songs didn’t budge from ambient background noise … it kind of felt as if we’d all been invited to sit in with Worley in his bedroom. I’m glad there was plenty of beer and coffee where we were.

This is usually how I envision practitioners of electronic music: these über-smart techno dweebs with powers beyond my imagination who hole up in their bedrooms surrounded by mountains of boxes held together with cables. I’m probably only half-right. If that is the case, it was nice to hear Letdown über-smartly use his powers for good.

Photo and video by Alex Creecy

“Nauseous Monster” - Letdown

Video for “All of a Sudden”

Tags: Biltmore Dive, David Bolt, Letdown, live review, Portishead, Portland, Red and Black Cafe, Scott Worley, The Delta Mirror