Live Shots

Live Shots: Mara Hruby at Yoshi’s Oakland

Tony Robles
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The nice thing about playing a major stage in your hometown is that you can count on support from old friends. On the other hand, it also means that those same people can shout out whatever they want during the mic breaks. “Man, they just had to bring out my childhood nickname,” a slightly blushing Mara Hruby said Wednesday night, responding to a slightly inaudible call from someone from way back in the back of the sold-out crowd at Yoshi’s Oakland.

Coming to the stage, Hruby recalled her first concert experience seeing Ahmad Jamal play at the venue, and for the relatively new singer – having so far released an EP From Her Eyes that’s largely a collection of covers – the historic significance seemed to be working on her. “You’ll have to excuse me, I’m a little excited to be on this stage,” she said, following a rendition of Mos Def’s “The Panties” and her original “So Come.” “I have the jitters a little bit.” Maybe there were visual signs of this, like a firm grip on the mic stand or platform heels rooted in place, but you couldn’t hear it in her voice. Hruby sang with composure and a deceptive ease, whether drawing the room’s attention sustaining the end of Andre 3000’s “Take Off Your Cool” or playfully bouncing along the highs and the lows of her own “The Love Below.”

When the evening’s “special guest” Chris Turner (an Oakland native who has spent the last nine years in New York) joined Hruby on stage for a few songs beginning with D’Angelo’s “Send It On,” it made for a nice duet. Whereas Hruby’s voice is typically soft and reserved, Turner’s is more forceful, bombastic. Given stage time to himself, he sang a track called “All We Need Is Love” – what he would refer to as his “anthem” – with the didactic emphasis of a preacher. It could have been corny, in the same way that Turner proclaims to be heralding “the Romantic Movement,” but has enough charm and genuine feeling behind it to back it up. (Hruby, perhaps just beating him to the compliment, said that Turner “doesn’t know that he’s the next great musician of our generation…seriously.”)

After singing with Turner, Hruby appeared more relaxed on the stage, and dedicated the next song to her father, just recently married. “If you choose to be with me,” she began to sing, as the girl at the table next to me slipped her arm around her date, a guy that I honestly thought had been blowing it. Maybe, reflecting Hruby, the crowd was warming, getting caught up a bit in the Romantic Movement. And it seemed the band, an unimposing group suiting the venue, started laying into it as well. First turning a cover of Bob Marley’s “Is This Love” – the low on Hruby’s EP for me – into a highlight, and then adding some funky bass on the original “I’m Sure” before giving the guitars a workout for Jamiroquai’s “Alright.”

Early in the night Hruby had coaxed the audience to speak up, get vocal, saying that she liked to interact. As her performance went on that became more clear, whether it was with the crowd, Turner, or the band. Closing the show with Al Green’s “Simply Beautiful”, one line stood out: “If I gave you my love, I tell you what I’d do, I’d expect a whole lot of love out of you.”

Live Shots: Main Attrakionz and G-Side at Independent

Tony Robles
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Despite all the local and national attention Oakland’s “Best Duo Ever” Main Attrakionz has been receiving lately, the Independent was less populated than I expected last Tuesday night. It was an appreciative bunch, however, with a handful of bloggers and collaborators joining fans to show the act love.

There’s something strange and wonderful happening in independent hip-hop these days – rappers, producers, managers, and friends from an array of backgrounds and styles have formed a diverse and tight-knit circle via the Internet, and a family vibe was apparent at Tuesday’s show.

Cloud rappers Main Attrakionz came out the gate with crazy energy. MondreMAN wore a flannel (with tag on), Super Mario t-shirt, and fuzzy white beanie. Squadda B was in head-to-toe sweats. Oddly enough, Main Attrakionz’ manager Walkmaster Flex took on the role of hype-man for the evening.

I exchanged knowing glances and smiles with James Laurence of Friendzone during the dreamy, sedated, Friendzone-produced “Chuch.” Even without the verse from Detroit, Mich.’s Danny Brown, “Cloud Skatin’” from Blackberry Ku$h was a personal highlight. The set also featured a cameo from one of my favorite up-and-comers and Green Ova family member, Shady Blaze, who showed up to throw down on “Hood Nigga.” Though the turnout was lacking, those in attendance looked thoroughly impressed (and pretty high).

I’d been listening to some of headliner G-Side’s melodic hip-hop in the weeks prior to the show, but I consider Tuesday’s set my first proper introduction to the Huntsville, Ala., duo. ST 2 Lettaz and Yung Clova have been rapping together for over a decade, and this pair has amazing chemistry and is flat-out great at rapping. The crowd filled out and got moving for G-Side’s highly animated set, which featured vocalist Joi Tiffany, lots of weed, and an encore. By the end of the night, I was a full-fledged fan of the sweat-drenched Southern duo.

All photos by Diego Gamez.

Live Shots: ‘Yes Sweet Can’ at Dance Mission Theater

Jesse Hawthorne Ficks
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Sweet Can Productions puts on a gonzo circus show, but with a focus on quotidien, real-world concerns. For its upcoming “Yes Sweet Can” show, running for over two weeks at Dance Mission Theater, the performance is inspired by everyday chores — and actually makes them seem like fun.

Cleaning can be a blast, apparently, and making a cup of hot chocolate — while balancing a pot of hot milk on your head, of course — can also be rather exciting. The performers’ talents as acrobats are obvious, their flexibility undeniable. Whenever I see them do those super-exaggerated back bends, I always think “Man, that must feel sooo good!”

The storyline at moments can seem a little vague, but that didn’t really seem to matter since the show is always moving forward (sometimes actually flying forward) with aerial feats, high up in the rafters of the theater.

“Yes Sweet Can” by Sweet Can Productions
Dance Mission Theater
3316 24th Street
Thru Jan 1, check website for times and prices
www.sweetcanproductions.com

Live Shots: Dinosaur Jr. at the Fillmore

Tony Robles
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By Jolene Torr

The nostalgia factor of a night spent at the Fillmore, watching Dinosaur Jr. play the entirety of its classic Bug album while the scents of weed and that cloying old familiar CK One (I shit you not) steeped into my clothes, is hard to ignore. Though I was too young to appreciate Bug in 1988, watching the slacker-rock trio indulge in sprawling guitar solos and dense, chugging bass lines undoubtedly evoked a longing for grunge and those impetuous ’90s.

Former Black Flag frontman and spoken word artist Henry Rollins couldn’t shake that wistful yearning for another time either as he sat on stage with Dino Jr. last Thursday for a pre-show interview. Invoking the spirits of the Fillmore, Rollins declared, “I always get a bit of déjà vu when I come here. This is where Janis [Joplin] and Grace Slick played!”

Slack-jawed, awed in the venue’s music history, he asked, “So what does it mean to play at the Fillmore?” A big, meaty question like that might normally necessitate an equally sentimental response, but J Mascis, rather than trip down memory lane with the rest of us, championed the venue’s acoustics. “The sound’s really good,” he said. “It’s hard to have a bad night here.”

With his bellicose stare, Rollins probed the band for key insights, opining that the “rip-roaring, pedal-to-the-metal” Bug represented a “sharpening of sound” and with it, a sound that “got more heavy.” There was the promise to be loud, that sound was sacrosanct.

The six stacked amps surrounding the band was the temple. When asked how a venue responds to the volume of the guitars, J Masic said, “Once a sound guy came on and turned down my amp.” He laughed, still bewildered that this had once happened, “That’s like sacrilegious to me.”

After the 30-minute-ish interview, the band launched into Bug, playing to a burly male-centric room, aggressive in their hollers and “owwws” through J’s distortion and Murph’s thunderous drums, lumbering along to Lou Barlow’s bass. They played loud, for sure, extended intros and songs that seemed to play longer than they should that really just seeped into one another, for a night of melodics and heroic guitar anthems in quintessential slacker fashion.

 

All photos by Chris Stevens.

Live Shots: Avey Tare at New Parish

Tony Robles
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0

It’s been over a year since Dave Portner – the yelping member of Animal Collective better known as Avey Tare – released his crocodile-inspired solo debut Down There (Paw Tracks). Maybe Tare needed to spend some time away from the songs that dealt with divorce, death, and illness, as he only recently set out on tour in support of the album. He finished his brief solo tour on Sunday night at Oakland’s New Parish, and I couldn’t wait to finally check him out.

The dismal grey weather was well-suited to Tare’s dark and murky debut. A youthful crowd clad in an unsettling amount of lumberjack plaid filled the venue. Onstage was a creepy Yoda skeleton and a white sequined cloth-draped table with a few baby crocodiles placed around several electronic instruments.

Tare began by blasting the audience with a discordant burst of noise. In the spirit of Animal Collective, the set that followed was comprised of several new, unreleased songs interspersed with selections from Down There. Animal Collective is known to routinely perform new material prior to putting it out, so it seems only natural that the band’s primary songwriter would engage in a similar backwards album cycle.

New songs like “Slow Words” and a track fans are tentatively referring to as “Sometimes” were bright and bubbly with Tare’s passionate, yelping vocals at the forefront. As with all things Animal Collective, there were plenty of repetitive, primal rhythms and colorful samples. Tare seemed well acquainted with the new stuff, which is (hopefully) indicative of a follow-up to Down There in the not so distant future.

For me, watching an artist breath new life into songs I know and love is the highlight of any performance. Given the sonic complexity of Tare’s material, it was tough digesting all the newness without something familiar to latch onto. I was thrilled whenever one of his unknown offerings blossomed seamlessly into a track from Down There. The ambling, accordion-driven “Laughing Hieroglyphic,” the swampy, synth-heavy “Lucky 1,” and a pulsing “Oliver Twist” were the shining moments of Tare’s set. I didn’t get to dance as much as I would have liked. Instead, I watched in awe as Tare toyed with his gear and sang with fervid intensity.

Opener: I often describe bands as energetic, but L.A.’s Foot Village made every performance I’ve seen before look like a geriatric yoga class in comparison. The four tribal noise rockers beat on a giant cluster of drum kits while two members took turns shouting incoherently into a megaphone. Held over a floor tom, the same megaphone produced a sound unlike anything I’ve heard. The band’s only female member, Grace Lee (who removed her pants after the opening song), stole the show by convulsing wildly, whipping a rope light around, and knocking down a speaker twice her size.

 

All photos by Wolfgangg Photography.

Live Shots: José James at New Parish

Tony Robles
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A couple of phrases used (and possibly made up) to describe José James’s show Friday night: swoontastic and baby-making-music. The rising neo-crooner gigged in San Jose and SF the preceding two evenings, but it’s hard to beat the intimacy of Oakland’s the New Parish, which has a certain bohemian vibe.

Whereas James’s previous shows in the Bay Area were more traditional jazz with restrained piano accompaniment, on this tour he was backed up with a full band capable of illustrating his range. It made for a super talented quintet including keyboardist Kris Bowers (who appeared on Kanye/Jay Z’s Watch the Throne album), bassist Solomon Dorsey, trumpet player Takuya Kuroda (a familiar collaborator of James’s), and standout drummer Nate Smith.

Known for pulling hip-hop and electronic sounds into the vocal jazz tradition, James is as much influenced by John Coltrane as he is in line with the legend’s nephew, Flying Lotus (who did production on 2010’s Black Magic) and gave a respective shout-out to each.

Most impressively, the group collectively had a relaxed, pretension-free quality, with James on point, cuing Kuroda to take a solo or setting a mic stand in front of the seemingly reserved Dorsey, wordlessly indicating that it was his turn to sing. Previewing a significant amount of material from the upcoming album Trouble, James closed the show with an encore of the title track. Reiterating that it was his first time in Oakland, it was clear from the smile on his face (and the crowd’s) that it probably wouldn’t be the last.

Live Shots: A peep at the upcoming “Revolutionary Nutcracker Sweetie”

Jesse Hawthorne Ficks
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Rehearsal was in full twirl this weekend, as dancers prepared to perform “The Revolutionary Nutcracker Sweetie” at Brava Theater this coming weekend.

This is not your classic, bourgeois version of the Nutcracker, but more of a Cinderella tale. Clara is an undocumented worker, working for the richest family in town, the McGreeds, whose gay son (with a pink hairdo) gives Clara a freedom fighting doll from Africa.

Later, the pair embark on an adventure of a lifetime. They make their way through a magical world, of melting ice caps and even underwater, concluding with the a beautiful “dance of the flowers,” which I caught a few photos of during the rehearsal. So start a new tradition this year, and check out Dance Brigade’s spunky and cool version of this holiday favorite, because, sweetie, you don’t want to miss it!

December 10-11
Saturday 2pm and 6pm; Sunday 1pm and 5pm, $15-$17
Brava Theater
2781 24th Street, SF
Purchase tickets here

Live Shots: Iggy Pop at the Warfield

Tony Robles
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It had been a long wait to see Iggy Pop live (not like, Morrissey-long, but more like three months later than anticipated). When I spoke with Pop back in September, he was ecstatic to be out on the road again.

He was in France at the time, prepping in his hotel room before a big show – a concert he’d planned to follow up with an evening of wine and French television with his lady friend. We talked about cartoons, his image, the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, and American Idol.

He told me that on this tour, he’d be playing, “All of Raw Power, some of Fun House, some songs from the eponymous debut The Stooges, and some stuff that was too hot to handle, too raw for the times — stuff that came out on bootlegs in the ’70s like ‘Cock in My Pocket,’ ‘Open Up and Bleed,’ ‘Head on the Curve.’” So I was, understandably, equally ecstatic to see him live. Shortly thereafter, he broke his foot (after seeing him last night at the Warfield, I now realize how easily that could happen) and the tour was cut short.

Finally in San Francisco, on a windy  December evening, Pop tore the paint off the walls with the sheer enormity of his stage presence, pumping with rock’n’roll energy and yes, raw power. These were my favorite moments from the night:

10 great bits about Iggy Pop’s show at the Warfield (hint: the band plays the venue again Tuesday night):
1. Pop and Co. running out on stage and immediately launching into a frenzied “Raw Power.” No opening chit-chat, no fuss.
2. The quick-fire follow-up to that first song was ultimate punk anthem, “Search and Destroy.” Fist pumps.
3. Seeing guitarist James Williamson and saxophonist Steve Mackay a.k.a “Mr. Fun House” (as Pop described him) in the flesh.
4. Mike Watt’s cherry red bass, forever-entertaining facial expressions, and jerky movements.
5. Speaking of movement, Pop’s taut, brown leathered skin, and the noodling snake contortions he does with it.
6. Pop writhing “like a cat!” (as the couple behind me kept shouting), on top of one of the speakers, posing.
7. The band inviting “99 percenters” – and every one else – from the crowd on stage for one song, and Pop instructing them to “shake a little,” adding, “I would!”
8. The threatening, heart-pumping, supersexy guitar riff in “I Wanna Be Your Dog.”
9. Pop stage-diving during “I Wanna Be Your Dog.”
10. Pop stage-diving during “I Wanna Be Your Dog” and not breaking his foot.

Live Shots: Dan Deacon at New Parish

Tony Robles
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0

You go to Dan Deacon in a bad mood – a no-good-reason sort of bad mood, where you’ve been sleeping a lot just to turn it off. (Works for a while, until the stress dreams start.) And even though you’d seen this guy a few times before, you have doubts about the show. Do you really enjoy the music, the high-pitched, manic indie electronics with screeching chipmunk vocals over it? Has he progressed enough as an artist to make a return worthwhile, or enough to brave the crush of an amped up, teenage and hyper crowd?

And once inside the New Parish, Deacon’s fan base seems even younger than last time. There are even old stone-faces seated in comfy chairs along the balcony, obvious school-night-in-Oakland chaperones for the giddy kids below. Peter O’Connell — one of the openers along with locals Chasms and Nero’s Day at Disneyland — plays off this crowd, asking and answering, “You know what I hate?” “Parents.”

A lovably buffoonish, intentionally bad comedian who comes to the stage pre-doused with sweat and proceeds to spill pocket change at every opportunity, O’Connell hails from Deacon’s Wham City performer collective, and shares the inept genius DIY-crap aesthetic. As with the late night oeuvre of Tim and Eric, there’s a silly, winking method to the mindlessness that appeals alternately to both the perma-stoned and a simple pre-pube/acid sense of cartoonish fun. 
 

To stand outside, it’s easy to dismiss much of what’s going on as gimmicky. (Or to look down from above, and think somebody needs to have that D.A.R.E. talk when they get home.) Deacon, a grizzly hipster geek king of a man, performs down in the crowd, an array of multicolored controllers and keys set up on a folding table. At one side is a precariously rigged tower of brilliant strobes capped by a neon green skull, lights that don’t seem to just accompany the music but race it to a more spastic tempo (a one-two punch that knocks every concrete thought out of your head.)

Sometimes these lights are all that can be made out, as the crowd, in full on mob mode crushes closer. “I can see this is going to be one of those shows,” Deacon says, narrowly avoiding being crushed between the stage and his equipment, another night of hurt legs and resorting to performing on the other side, equipment turned upside down, until security shows up to give him some space.  

There’s not much room around him, and nowhere for a jaded observer to stand. Deacon — more happy cult leader than the pious religious figure that his name and the location suggests — lays out the performance with interactive elements: contests and interpretive dance numbers led by audience members (a couple of costumed gnomes, tonight,) telepathic renditions of “Happy Birthday,” multiple requests to “take a knee for a sec.”

It’s basically peer pressure. Give in and before you know it you’ve crawled/danced through a human tunnel — stretching out the door, through the patio, back across the floor and upstairs to the balcony — and come out the other end, where you’re holding hands in the air with a red-headed woman you’ve never seen before as the two of you giggle like school children. An old, forgotten feeling, and refreshingly better than sleeping.

Live Shots: Red Hots Burlesque at El Rio

Jesse Hawthorne Ficks
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The holidays are in full force, so it’s time to start getting that warm fuzzy feeling, and how better to start getting heated up than by seeing some Red Hots Burlesque?

I stopped by one of the two shows the troupe puts on at El Rio every week (Wednesdays and Fridays at 7:30 p.m.), and girl – they’ve got you (un)covered when it comes to all that is sexy, steamy, and silly!

The evening featured performances by Dottie Lux, hostess with the mostess; Dorian Faust, in something very dark and moody; Sheba Queenofthenight, trying to clean up but ending up getting dirty; and Kiss Me Kate, making every Star Wars fan’s wet dream come true.

There’s a little something for everyone and very little being worn on stage. I know you’re curious, so go check them out. But make sure to bring a pair of oven mitts – cuz you’re guaranteed to catch some mighty hot buns.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QVipvV_TwfU

No more introduction needed: Pterodactyl at El Rio

Tony Robles
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0

On Saturday night in the cloistered show room at El Rio, Joe Kremer of Pterodactyl passed through the idle crowd to consult the sound guy about his microphone reverb, making a whacking hand gesture to illustrate the slap back resonation he wanted — something he’s probably had to do at every venue between Brooklyn, NY, (where the band is from) and San Francisco because it’s so essential to Pterodactyl’s sound.

Kremer has mischievous blonde facial hair and a sarcastic glint in his eye that’s hard to read. It’s not unlike Pterodactyl itself, a band that creates dissonant indie-rock by lathering sunny harmonies in reverb for a murky, psychedelic sound. But Spills Out (Jagjaguwar), the band’s newest album, has one major difference from its previous two: it teases with catchy melodies.

When Pterodactyl kicked into song, it was Kremer who had the stage antics — riffing on electric guitar, swinging around rambunctiously, and closing his eyes to enter into his own little world at the microphone. He had an unfading, boyish enthusiasm that lasted all night. Matt Marlin sat behind the drums with his sweating shirt sleeves rolled up, harmonizing on each song and looking to the others for signals (and giving them) with a blank face. He seemed to quietly run the show. Duncan Gamble on keyboards and Jesse Hodges on bass guitar were the more stationary and restrained of the group. The four had a likeable presence on stage, as though each one had a role to play: there was the ebullient charmer (Kremer), the mysterious one (Marlin), and the two nervous and loveable characters (Gamble, Hodges).
 
When Pterodactyl performed songs from Spills Out, the coherence and melody of songs like “Searchers” and “School Glue” was somewhat lost. Those two songs have a conspicuous presence on the record and represent a significant departure for a band that has preferred atonalism. However, when performed live, they fell indistinguishably in with the rest of the discordant, highly effected set. Kremer’s voice also was different from the record and the live performance. It sounded higher in pitch, even cartoonish. It wasn’t necessarily a drawback musically speaking — the band sounded impressive and put on a fine show — but you sometimes wondered if Kremer was involved in some inside joke that no one else got.
 
One highlight on Spills Out is “Allergy Shots,” which the band performed terrifically on stage. The four minutes of droning bass has a kind of mystical lugubriousness. It feels
like a trudging descent into an ever-expanding pit. “The grass isn’t greener/when there is no grass at all,” Hodges sang mechanically. In the hopeless mood of the song, his
singing was appropriate.
 
Even after releasing three albums, Pterodactyl is still having to introduce itself to moderate sized crowds like the one at El Rio. It’s can be a difficult introduction. Listen to the band’s albums in succession — the self-titled debut, WorldWild, and Spills Out — and you’ll see that Pterodactyl has never been content doing the same thing. The debut thrashes around rampantly; WorldWild is psychedelic and airy, while Spills Out is less experimental and more dulcet. But if Pterodactyl makes more first impressions like
Saturday night’s, the band will soon need no introduction at all.
 
 
All photos by Ryan Kauffman
 

Live Shots: tUnE-yArDs at the Regency Ballroom

Tony Robles
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0

tUnE-yArDs seemed so playful and free on Wednesday at the Regency, like a band of highly skilled children, in particular the ringleader-pied piper of the bunch, Merrill Garbus. Hopping around barefoot, playing with different toys – pedals and looping samples, ukuleles, and crash drums – all on a square of carpet that had a curvy gray racetrack: genius kindergartner. Or as a show companion described it, “it feels like the world’s greatest camp band.”

Part of their gaiety may have been due to timing – the show, which took place the night before Thanksgiving, yet still nearly sold out – was the very last of a long tour for tUnE-yArDs. Openers Pat Jordache, a spry Montreal quartet with four-part harmonies and two drummers, presented Garbus with a cake during its set to celebrate the end of their joint journey. A very sweet moment, in a night full ’em.

After a brief intermission Garbus was back out on stage, this time dressed more in her stage persona – thick paint streak across her cheeks, one gigantic hoop earring. Her band also wore face-paint, along with sweatbands. My only concern of the entire evening: I feel like perhaps the warpaint thing has had its day, but of course, that’s just a matter of personal opinion. And really, no matter. The music is the important thing here. And that blew me away, every tune.

Each song felt like a jazzy Afro-folk art project; Garbus would create a beat, or a vocal chant, then loop it endlessly, add more varying vocals then jump from peddle to peddle, drum to drum. The two saxophonists free jazzed it, and the bassist played along with Garbus while adding his own tone. She’d count off then one-two-three, switch! The song changed, the beat stopped, or suddenly it was Garbus alone, chilling, beautiful vocals booming through the expansive space.

She’s the mastermind up there, her strength is ever-present, and at times, she nearly growls. She’s like a lioness, mouth open wide with harmonized roars. At one point she yelled out, “this is where we jump!” and the crowd erupted, bouncing in near-unison – my old-lady perch upstairs was suddenly shaking. At another point a beat she created didn’t quite work and she just stopped and smiled, “this isn’t danceable!” adding “people always ask if we ever mess up, now you know!” The next beat worked and we all sighed with relief. As expected, and similar to that last time I caught the act, “Bizness” got the biggest crowd response, but the audience cheered for nearly every other song as well, even the slightly less poppy, moodier new one.

At the end of the official set, or I should say, pre-encore, Pat Jordache got back on stage to celebrate with tUnE-yArDs, while large trash bags full of colorful balloons were released upon the young, absolutely fucking thrilled, crowd. It was a tasty pre-holiday treat, and we didn’t even have to sit at the kid’s table (hell yeah, balcony).

Live Shots: WU LYF at the Independent

Tony Robles
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0

I showed up pretty early to catch WU LYF at the Independent on Monday night. A cold breeze drifting through the venue and the giant white Wucifix standing on an empty stage made for a decidedly ominous vibe. It quickly warmed up, though, as a sold out crowd filled the place to capacity for the Manchester, UK, quartet’s very first performance in San Francisco.

I was feeling some serious deja vu. Less than two years ago another British four piece, Wild Beasts, had graced the same stage for its inaugural San Francisco show, which was also completely sold out. Pumped as I’d been for Wild Beasts, I was even more excited to watch these young hoodlums perform the intense, grandiose anthems of their breakthrough debut Go Tell Fire To The Mountain.

Exuberant cheers erupted from the audience as WU LYF gathered in front iof the illuminated Wucifix. Leader Ellery Roberts plucked out the first few organ chords of the slow-building opener “L Y F,” then turned his back to the crowd to show off his tattered denim jacket which also bared the mark of the band. Bassist Tom McClung was the most animated member on stage. He handled his instrument with an emphatic flair and provided the high-pitched vocal cries of “Wu” that added a chilling undercurrent to “L Y F” and other songs.

Most bands have a backbone, and WU LYF’s is Evans Kati. The set was driven by Kati’s wailing, melodic guitar. Joe Manning’s bursting percussion was pretty solid, though the drummer looked a bit bored. The raw, energetic “Spitting Blood,” and the fiery, impassioned “Concrete Gold,” were highlights of the evening.

Roberts’ snarling vocals were just as tortured and cathartic as on the record. Between songs, he spoke in mostly unintelligible grunts, which felt a little contrived. When I interviewed the singer a couple weeks ago, he was quite eloquent and soft spoken. It was an unfortunate bias, as the rest of the audience was completely enthralled by the primal character who stood before us.

Though I often had no idea what Roberts what saying, when he commanded us to howl like a desperate pack of wolves, we obeyed. Late in the set, he remarked that the audience was too calm. Roberts’ cheeky observation resulted in a wild, volatile reaction from fans when the band launched into a frenzied rendition of “We Bros.”

Since WU LYF is a relatively new group with a limited catalog of work, the show was without many surprises, save for a lovely instrumental piece led by McClung. Not surprisingly, the band closed with its cinematic Alma Mater, “Heavy Pop.” Though I half-heartedly joined the crowd in cheering for an encore, I knew it was no use. WU LYF had already given us everything they had.

Opener:
Long Beach’s Crystal Antlers opened with a soulful, noisy ruckus. The quartet’s retro garage sound seemed a cross between the Black Keys and Cymbals Eat Guitars. In his flannel and heavy coat, vocalist-bassist Johnny Bell was a vision of grunge. His face remained hidden behind long, sweat-drenched hair. Though the band appeared to have stepped out of the ’90s, its sound was more reminiscent of ’60s psych rock. Crystal Antlers’ keyboardist flaunted some flashy moves that included tipping his synthesizer onto one leg while continuing to play impeccably.

All photos by Wolfgangg Photography..

Live Shots: The Destiny Muhammad Jazz Trio at Red Poppy Art House

Tony Robles
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5

 Destiny introduced herself to the audience as “your friendly harp player from the ‘hood.” Word. This ain’t your grandmama’s tea parlor harp music. This is jazz harp – maybe the only jazz harp in the world – with all the syncopation and improvising you would expect to hear at any classic jazz joint.

Destiny and her trio worked together to create familiar rhythmic curiosities like “Bye Bye Blackbird,” but then also went above and beyond by taking a classic nineteenth-century Celtic jig and making it jazz-tastic. Super inventive. It’s fun to see people do what they truly love, and as a musician, Destiny has definitely found her path in life.

Fun Jazz Harp Video:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N_sFSlukHp0

Live Shots: Pilot 59 at ODC Dance Commons, 11/19/11

Andrew Lam
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0

After eleven weeks of creating, fine-tuning, and probably lots of serious sweating, six emerging choreographers presented their work this weekend at ODC for Pilot 59 that showed an eager, sold-out audience what they’ve got. It turns out, that entails quite a bit — the diversity in dancers and themes was striking. Two pieces especially caught my eye.

I loved the sex-bot, robo-girl piece choreographed by Bianca Cabrera, titled “Feral.” It gave a peculiar vision of the future, with a hint of zombie take-over and a pinch of nasty. The glittery costumes were fantastic. Major props to her dancers on capturing pixilated pulsations perfectly. Very impressive.

I also enjoyed “Allegretto,” choreographed by Charles Slender. I’m a bit of a FACT/SF groupie and find their work incredibly innovative and perfectly quirky. Set to Beethoven’s familiar Symphony No. 7 in A Major (if you heard it, you’d recognize it), the dancer’s movements struck me as innovative and beautifully strange. The beginning of the piece made me think a bit of traffic guards, while my husband said that it reminded him of Russian kittens (the fuzzy hats probably had something to do with that). Slender’s ability to make people dream of the bizarre (i.e. flag signals and cute pets, all in the same dance) for me, is the genius of his choreography.

 

Live Shots: They Might Be Giants at the Fillmore

Tony Robles
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0

They Might Be Giants wrapped up a busy weekend in the Bay Area last Sunday night, playing a second night at the Fillmore on top of a free show at the SF Amoeba Music earlier that day. Starting the show, Johns Flansburgh announced that the band would be playing Flood –which he later called the band’s “1990 near-breakthrough album”– in its entirety. And, since the album was only about 43 minutes long, it would be padded first by some old and new hits.

Getting ready to play the title track from Join Us, Flansburgh debated with John Linnell whether they should call it the “new album,” having also released both it and a “new, new album,” the appropriately named compilation Album Raises New and Troubling Questions, in 2011.

The show would be as much about music as it would be about showcasing the oddball humor that’s endeared the two Johns to fans for 25 years (some in attendance were noticeably younger than that, but most seemed to have been with the band for a good while.) Before “Battle for the Planet of the Apes” Flansburgh used a handheld spotlight to divide the audience on the floor into competing camps of chanting “apes” and “people,” adding that “the one-percenters in the balcony don’t get to play.” (Apes won.)

Flood was performed in reverse order, building up to a crescendo that included both “Istanbul (Not Constantinople)” and “Birdhouse in Your Soul,” ending with the now ironic “Theme From Flood” (“It’s a brand new record for 1990!”) Highlights included an in the dark version of “Whistling in the Dark” by Linnell* with bass drum gong support from Flansburgh and a Flood half-time show with the sock puppet “Avatars of They” singing “Singing Spoiler” alert with Meg Ryan (not really Meg Ryan.)

Opening Set
-Older

-Subliminal

-Doctor Worm

-Drink!
-Join Us
-Damn Good Times
-We’re the Replacements
-XTC Vs. Adam Ant

-Battle for the Planet of the Apes

Flood (in reverse order):
-Road Movie to Berlin
-They Might Be Giants

-Sapphire Bullets of Pure Love

-Women and Men

-Hot Cha
-Whistling in the Dark
-Letterbox

-Minimum Wage
-Hearing Aid

-Someone Keeps Moving My Chair

Halftime Show: Spoiler Alert (Avatars of They)

Second (First) Half of Flood:
-We Want a Rock
-Twisting
-Particle Man
-Your Racist Friend

-Dead

-Istanbul (Not Constantinople) (Four Lads cover)

-Lucky Ball and Chain
-Birdhouse in Your Soul

-Theme From Flood

Encore:
-Can’t Keep Johnny Down
-Fingertips

Second Encore:
-How Can I Sing Like a Girl?

-When Will You Die

*Definitely the quieter on stage of the two Johns, I was reminded elsewhere during the show that Linnell is worth keeping an eye on, if only because he makes fairly inscrutable faces the entire time. Kind of like someone is playing slightly off key and he’s trying to figure out who it is, if only because he likes it.

Live Shots: Feist at the Warfield

Tony Robles
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0

SFBG photographer Charles Russo caught Feist at the Warfield on Monday. 

Live Shots: Real Estate and Big Troubles at Slim’s

Tony Robles
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0

The sunny, indie rock jams of Ridgewood, NJ’s Real Estate cured my rainy day blues on Friday night at Slim’s. San Francisco’s unshaven, flannel-clad urban lumberjacks showed up en masse to seek shelter from the rain and soak up some seriously good vibes. The five-piece kicked off with “Suburban Beverage” from its 2009 self-titled debut. Inviting us to mellow out, leader Martin Courtney repeated the song’s only words, “Budweiser, Sprite, do you feel alright?” Fans responded with blissful head-nodding.

Courtney looked effortlessly hip in his thrift store button-up and thick-rimmed glasses. With his ball cap, t-shirt, and scruffy beard, bassist Alex Bleeker resembled someone’s dad jamming out on a Saturday afternoon. Bleeker praised San Francisco as his favorite city before the band jumped into “Easy,” the opening track from its sophomore effort, Days (Domino). As Courtney recited lyrics involving dreams, running through fields, and free love, guitarist Matt Mondanile warmed the venue with his clean guitar riffs.

The band’s lengthy set consisted of new songs from Days interspersed with selections from its debut. Considering the consistent sound of Real Estate’s albums, I was surprised to see Courtney and Bleeker trading lead vocal duties. A highlight of the evening was “It’s Real,” which had fans singing along to its catchy chorus of Ohs. Another success was the laid back, exceptionally chill “Out Of Tune.”

Real Estate also covered a couple songs by fellow New Jersey bands, the first of which was Felt’s “Sunlight Bathed The Golden Glow.” The jangly pop track was perfectly suited to the group’s summery backyard sound. After closing with “All the Same,” the band returned to the stage to cover the Feelies’ “Higher Ground.” Though I suspect few of them were familiar with the original, the audience totally loved it.

Real Estate finished out its encore with some favorites and left with the promise to meet fans at the Attic for a drink. Cloaked in the warmth of Real Estate’s positive vibes, I ventured back into the dark and blustery San Francisco night.

Opener: I had high hopes for another act from Ridgewood, Big Troubles. Though the band looked cute enough to take to the prom, its opening set fell a little flat. After getting hooked on its recent album Romantic Comedy (Slumberland), I was looking for a more intense, dynamic version of the songs I’d come to love. What I got was the equivalent of listening to the CD in my bedroom. With such a clear shoe-gaze influence, however, I suppose a highly animated performance would be a betrayal of the band’s roots.

 

All photos by Wolfgangg Photography.

Live Shots: Shonen Knife at Bottom of the Hill

Tony Robles
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2

Japanese pop and the Ramones; it’s a combination you might not hear anywhere else besides a Shonen Knife show (or on the band’s tribute album Osaka Ramones). On Friday night at Bottom of the Hill, the Osaka-bred trio of pop punk rockers wound up an already-worked over crowd with a full encore set of Ramones songs.

But long before that rowdy ode,  they received cheers as they were collectively spotted through the window behind the stage, making their way down the stairs outside and into the venue. They stood with a pre-recorded theme song and held up banners with Japanese words (anyone know what they said?  which said “Shonen Knife”) then launched into endless stage theatrics that included Kiss-style twin head-banging by vocalist-guitarist Naoko Yamano (the only original member since 1981) and cheery bassist-guitarist Ritsuko Taneda. From start to finish, there was a lot of rock star posing: devil horns, guitar swinging, head-banging, arms thrown in the air.

The trio played high-energy tracks off a back catalogue that stretches 30 years; standouts included “Rock Society” off 2006’s Genki Shock and  “Perfect Freedom”  off 2010’s Free Time. They played “Redd Kross,” a tribute to the Red Kross, which is Yamano’s favorite band (not the Ramones?). They also highly recommended the burgers at Bottom of the Hill — Shannon Shaw, during the Shannon and the Clams set did mention that on their joint seven-day tour, they’d learned that Shonen Knife “really likes burgers, especially from Wendy’s.”

After the trio returned from a hyper-brief trip offstage, it was time for the all-Ramones encore. “Beat on the Brat,” “The KKK Took My Baby Away,” “Sheena is a Punk Rocker,” “Rock’n’Roll High School” — the works. It was then, and only then, that the crowd began crowd surfing. The first surfer failed to give enough warning of his intent, and was dropped unceremoniously. With the crowd worked up into a oafish frenzy, the momentum picked up and secondary jumpers were successfully surfed. Like a proper punk show.

Live Shots: The Guardian’s 45th Anniversary Happy Hour

Charles Russo
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4

On Thursday November 3rd the Guardian family descended upon Buck Tavern to toast 45 years of “Printing the News and Raising Hell.” The cadre included current and former staffers, as well as SF politicos and friends of the Guardian from over the years. While Chris Daly and his staff kept busy slinging stiff drinks and setting out yummy snacks, the Guardian family was aglow in celebrating four and half decades of representing San Francisco values. Hip Hip Hooray! 

[Photos by Ariel Soto-Suver] 

Live Shots: Das Racist at Ruby Skye

Tony Robles
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2

The disgruntled bouncer at Ruby Skye begrudgingly admitted my entry to the Das Racist show on Friday night, only after I managed to flag down the event’s promoter to confirm my legitimacy. It was a telling kick off to an evening riddled with problems on behalf of the club, but I wanted to approach with an open mind.

Leaving my issues with the hyper-vigilant door staff outside, I grabbed an $11 drink at the bar and headed toward the stage to wait for opener Danny Brown. I didn’t need to wait long, as I later learned Das Racist fans would be evacuated from the venue by 10 p.m. to make room for the usual clubutantes.

In his signature skinny jeans and choked-voice delivery, Brown pulled off a riveting set. The Detroit, Mich., rapper asked the audience to “give it up for all the beautiful ladies” before launching into verse after maniacal verse about sex, drugs, and debauchery.

Shortly after Brown stepped off, Das Racist sauntered on stage to soak up a feverish response from fans. The large, intoxicated dude in front of me would go ape throughout the night, knocking people’s drinks over and demanding more than his share of high fives from the group.

Right off the bat, Victor Vazquez (a.k.a. Kool AD) took a dive into the collegiate looking audience. As the microphones began to malfunction, Vazquez appeared to lose interest and spent much of the show seated in various places on stage. Vazquez did, however, manage to yank Hypeman Ashok Kondabolu by the collar of his jumpsuit just as he was about to pounce on some guy for getting too grabby.

Himanshu Suri (a.k.a. Heems) seemed less fazed by Ruby Skye’s sound problems. Suri mimed some air guitar and flashed rock star devil horns at fans between verses. In a hilarious moment of self-parody or unprecedented narcissism, Suri lifted his black Das Racist shirt to reveal yet another Das Racist shirt beneath it.

The group’s many collaborators doubled as stage hands, dipping backstage to find new microphones as others shorted out. The best cameo of the evening goes to the swagger-drenched re-work of Dr. Dre’s “Xplosive” by Boots Riley of the Coup. Newcomer Lakutis performed the absurdly catchy track “Lakutis In Da Haus” from his upcoming EP and re-appeared for Das Racist’s “Rapping 2 U.” Brown and Despot contributed verses on “Power.” Due to sound issues, I couldn’t really tell what Trackademicks was doing, but he was there, too.

Despite the unfortunate setting, fans went totally berserk for Das Racist, shouting along to hits like “Michael Jackson” so enthusiastically that the technical difficulties became nearly inconsequential.

New ‘Romance’: Wild Flag stole our hearts at Great American Music Hall

Tony Robles
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0

Despite the awesome spectacle (high kicks, guitar humping) and the resumes (Sleater-Kinney, Helium, the Minders) Wild Flag’s music stands on its own. The indie rock foursome (don’t call it a supergroup) from Portland, Oreg. and Washington D.C. ripped the Great American Music Hall to shreds on Saturday night, likely Friday night too, but I wasn’t there.

Jumping on stage without a word and whipping through the first three songs of the set (all off the self-titled debut), the band set the bar high early; the energy between vocalist-guitarist Mary Timony and vocalist-guitarist Carrie Brownstein was instantly electric. The two snaked around one another, in classic sex-soaked rock god movements. Janet Weiss’ complex drumming remained a blissful flurry of pummeling hits. Organist Rebecca Cole added cool retro garage charm. This is a pack of insanely talented musicians, and the crowd fed off their every lick. It was a packed, attentive, ecstatic house.

Ever the dry wit, Brownstein occasionally piped up with observations — “last night they said we brought the weather from Portland” and “I watched two depressing movies before the show — Girl, Interrupted and How To Die In Oregon.” A pre-game decision that she identified as a bad idea. Playing nearly every track off the album, including standout “Racehorse” and singles “Future Crimes” and “Romance” –  plus two promising new songs – the band retreated off stage after a tight hour.

When they returned for the first and only encore, Brownstein said she’d read a story online about Danzig being too cold at Fun Fun Fun Fest, which delayed his stage time, then she remarked about his need for shawl, buttering us up for a Misfits cover. “I don’t need a fucking shawl to sing a Misfits song,” she explained. Brownstein tricked us by asking if we liked the Misfits song “’Bullet” – cheers – “Yeah, I’m not going to play that, it’s fucking offensive.” Wild Flag launched into a garage version of “She.” Someone threw a shawl on stage. This was followed by a Television cover. The band closed out the impeccable set with a tingling cover of Patti Smith’s “Ask the Angels.”

While Wild Flag is essentially brand new (late 2010), the show felt nostalgic. It was the night of my 10-year high school reunion (which I chose not to attend for obvious reasons), and there were wistful pangs of youthful abandon. Having been just a tiny bit too young for the heart of riot grrrl, on the very teetering tip of the movement, I always felt like I was on the outside wishing to break in. But when the merch woman for Wild Flag at Great American Music Hall complimented my Bikini Kill tattoo, I was filled with pride. Listening to bands like Bikini Kill, Bratmobile, and Sleater-Kinney changed my young life for the better; no matter my non-traditional place in its legacy, riot grrrl brought me to feminism, to music as art, to journalism.

Yes, Wild Flag is a new –  and might I add, yet again, brilliant – project and should be judged as such, that demands a clean slate, but the members have been a part of the cultural female underground, the ongoing, endless discussion of riot grrrl, post-riot-grrrl, women in rock, and genderless musicianship for decades. It’s unavoidable and I think, a disservice to simply ignore. When do we stop talking about musicians based on sex? It’s a question I alone cannot answer but I think it starts with bands like these. I wasn’t  the only one claiming it album of the year/best show of the year –  female or not – I’ve heard that high praise elsewhere, everywhere.

Live Shots: Unknown Mortal Orchestra at Rickshaw Stop

Tony Robles
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0

We all know the story: Some dude records an album in a basement, garners considerable Internet attention, tries to perform live, and totally blows it. Fortunately for the audience at the Rickshaw Stop on Thursday night, Unknown Mortal Orchestra is a bold exception to this emerging parable in modern music.

The band has played here several times already this year, and I’d heard nothing short of glowing reviews. Still, I wasn’t fully prepared for just how successfully its tracks would translate to the stage. The hazy, cracked psych-pop tunes dreamed up by Unknown Mortal Orchestra’s progenitor Ruban Nielson blossomed and came to life with help from bandmates Jacob Portrait and Julien Ehrlich.

Portrait’s steady basslines provided the backbone to the band’s live set. Young Ehrlich took Neilson’s beats to new heights with playful and dynamic percussion. What impressed me most, however, was Nielson’s trippy, psychedelic guitar wizardry. Although it runs throughout the band’s debut album, I’d somehow overlooked the crazy talent Nielson fostered through years playing in his previous band the Mint Chicks. 

During opener “Little Blu House,” Nielson hunched down into the swirling layer of onstage fog and did some serious solo shredding. These face-melting moments became the highlight of each song thereafter, especially on “Thought Ballune” and breakout track “Ffunny Ffriends.” Additional weirdness came courtesy of Nielson’s super fancy microphone filtering his voice into a fuzzy, scratchy warble.

Maybe it was the rain, but the crowd seemed oddly stoic on Thursday night. Unknown Mortal Orchestra’s set warranted far more noodling than I witnessed at the Rickshaw Stop.

Opener: Denver, Colo., outfit Gauntlet Hair was a little down on its luck. The group’s first visit to California was plagued with rain, and leader Andy R. broke a guitar string during its first song. Despite minor setbacks, this flannel-clad foursome held it down for the Northwest with lots of shimmering guitars and Animal Collective-esque yelping, chant-like vocals. Drummer Craig Nice stole the show, inflicting a wild beating on a combination of acoustic and electronic drums.

 

If you missed it Thursday, both bands play New Parish this week:

Unknown Mortal Orchestra
With Gauntlet Hair
Nov. 7, 9 p.m., $8-10
The New Parish
579 18th St., Oakland
(510) 444-7474
www.thenewparish.com

Live Shots: Anamanaguchi at Slim’s

Tony Robles
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0

The self-proclaimed “nerds” behind me in the will-call line at Slim’s Sunday night were lamenting the theft of their culture. “I hate it when hipsters try to act like us,” one said, with threatening hostility. “Because you’re not one of us, you don’t know what it’s like, and it’s not fucking cool.” Oh crap, I thought, looking straight ahead. Are they talking about me? Do they think I’m a poser, coming to this show because it’s hip? That I wear chunky orthopedics and thick rimmed glasses for the purpose of ironic style? I got my ticket and went inside as fast as I could, away from the geek toughs.

Luckily the show itself wasn’t as militantly nerdcore as the line. Anamanaguchi borrows the speed and intensity of punk rock, but also has other notable influences. The band that’s known for making songs inspired by 8bit video game soundtracks, started out with “Space Wax America,” a new song that not only nods to Weezer’s “Surf Wax America” but has a bouncy background beat that could fit in with happy Euro techno. (Or maybe that certain rave quality was just the armfuls of glowsticks the band threw out to the audience. Or the visuals: colorful anime references including dogs, cats, and a never quite resolving cthuhlu Pokemon.) It’s like Anamanaguchi takes all the fun parts from genres and ditches the rest. And the band looks to be having a blast, particularly guitarist/member-who-handles-most-mic-breaks, Peter Berkman, who performed in a clearly homemade and adorable Adventure Time costume.

The band created the soundtrack to the video game version of the Scott Pilgrim Versus The World graphic novels, so combined with Halloween eve, I wasn’t surprised to see some evil ex-boyfriends amongst the crowd. I was, however, caught off guard by what appeared to be a combination of Ramona Flowers and the The Dark Knight’s Joker, giant red lips and short green hair with long tufts hanging down in front of each ear. Afterward, I asked her if I was identifying it right and she said, “Well, Ramona Flowers is my everyday look, and I wanted to be the Joker, so I guess you could say yes.” I checked my wallet and looked around for the guys from the line. If they still had it in for me, I could always give the girl a twenty to tell them “He’s with me.”

Opener: During a song about Jesus and fucking asses up like a car crash, opener Knife City took a brief swig of his beer and proceeded to spit it over the crowd in the front. The reaction from the rest of the crowd, looks of disgust and puzzlement, quickly revealed who was punk or not.

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