Concert Review: Alejandro Escovedo, Somerville Theater, April 6

Alejandro Escovedo came to town with a just a buddy to upend expectations. Yes, it was just two guys with acoustic guitars, but this was not evening of polite, gentle strumming; it's surprising they only broke one string in the course of the evening. Ecovedo's lyrics suggest that he's a singer/songwriter, but he knows how to rock. To put it another way, he knows how to make a lot of noise, but his lyrics convey genuine emotional complexity. He hits you in the heart, the feet and the brain. I frequently found myself with an irrepressible smile on my face.

The pair were previewing songs from Escovedo's upcoming album, due in June. Although he described it as a rock album with a full band, he was touring unplugged with fellow guitarist David Pulkingham. Their interaction was a paradox, effortlessly spontaneous and organic as a result of lots of practice. They had worked hard to make it look that easy. With a quick exchange of glances they could alter the tempo or intensity, and both clearly enjoyed the freedom they had in working together to make something so beautiful or so raucous.

Boston just isn't showing Escovedo the love he deserves, with the 900-seat venue maybe a third full. Rather than lamenting the poor turn-out (and he didn't mince words about another nearby venue where he'd played earlier in his career), he used the intimacy to his advantage. Especially since no one was in the balcony, the pair stepped down from the stage, away from the microphones, to perform a handful of songs in the aisles among the audience.

Escovedo peppered the set with stories about his family, taking great pride in their musical accomplishments. His father was a musician who bore 12 children, eight of whom went on to become professional musicians themselves. His 17-year-old son Paris is a punk rocker, and Alejandro is amused that Paris dismisses his father's current output at old man music for old people.

Escovedo was once a young punk rocker himself as a member of the Nuns in the mid-'70s. That band is now most famous as the launching point of his eventual solo career. Ironically, he emerged from a genre that disparaged virtuosity through his virtuosity, but the punk spirit still lives in this "old man."

Concert Review: A Place to Bury Strangers, Paradise Rock Club, March 27

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

Reconsidering Peaches

From the first time I saw Peaches, I reached the conclusion that she was trading exclusively in shock value in the absence of any other discernible talent, that she had nothing going for her other than sexual provocation. If she didn't exist, someone would have to invent her if only as fodder for gender studies academics.

My basis for this opinion was established by my initial exposure to her, opening for Elastica at the Park West in Chicago in 2000. But I have been forced recently to rethink my assessment. Peaches was interviewed on the January 29 episode of Sound Opinions. Jim DeRogatis starts off by calling the performance "infamous." Peaches responds that it was her "worst show ever." DeRogatis continues by explaining that the venue has been around since the days of Al Capone, and they still talk about it as the single worst show in its history. She recalls that it was the fourth show of her first tour ever and she was experimenting on stage to develop her new persona.

In other words, to say that I caught her on an off night is an understatement. I'll have to be a little more open-minded about her work, although I'll stick with Patti Smith for upending expectations of female performers.

Concert Review: The Magnetic Fields, Wilbur Theatre, February 11

Oh, Stephin Merritt, you are so droll. You are so witty. Your songs are so exquisite. If only you were so lively. Please, can Magnetic Fields concerts be inspired by your opening number, "Kiss Me Like You Mean It"? The band takes the notion of chamber pop too seriously in the live setting. The material was perfectly presented except for a few bum notes caused by laryngitis going through the tour bus, but it was staid. The band's performance was pleasant enough but hardly vital. As a songwriter, Merritt mines so many nuances of emotion, but the band didn't convey that emotion. They replicated the recordings but didn't bring the songs to life. Apart from some awkwardly amusing repartee between Merritt and Claudia Gonson, there was little to recommend for their concert over their albums.

There was are recurring theme of songs about vampires, surprising considering they never played the Future Bible Heroes song, "I'm a Vampire," even though they played songs by Merritt's other outfits, the Sixths and the Gothic Archies.

Opener Laura Barrett's main accompaniment was the kalimba, a thumb piano that sounds like a music box. Her quirkiness would have worn thin quickly if she had just tried to coast on her charms, the way too much '90s indie pop relied on the mistaken belief that cuteness compensates for ineptitude. But she and her accompanist were fully competent of their hodge podge of instruments, and she never sang a bum note, making her odd songs were appealing.

Magnetic Fields set list:

Kiss Me Like You Mean It
You Must Be Out of Your Mind
The Luckiest Guy on the Lower East Side
We Are Having a Hootenanny
Walk a Lonely Road
Shipwrecked
When Will You Love Me Again
All I Want To Know
I Have the Moon
Looking for Love [In the Hall of Mirrors]

[Intermission]

Xylophone Track
Interlude
Long Vermont Roads
You You You You You
The Nun's Litany
I'm Sorry I Love You
Don't Look Away
The Little Hebrew Girl
The Flowers She Sent and the Flowers She Said She Sent
Better Things
Fear of Trains
The Dolls' Tea Party
Always Already Gone
100,000 Fireflies

[Encore]
I Die
From a Sinking Ship

Concert Recommendation: That Petrol Emotion, The Bell House, Brooklyn, NY, December 12

I usually limit my concert recommendations to those in and around Boston, but I'm making an exception for That Petrol Emotion playing tonight in Brooklyn. The band arose from the remnants of the Undertones in the late '80s then went dormant after a few albums; they showed great promise and got critical praise, but their clattering rock never found a big audience. Still, they hold a place near and dear in my heart. I ripped off their look from 1987's Babble of writing on sunglasses with correction fluid; photos of me made the college paper and yearbook, but no one recognized the inspiration. 1988's End Of The Millennium Psychosis Blues captured how I was feeling at that time. The first time I saw them live, I knew all the words to their songs even more than the words to a Beatles song they covered; it's not as if "Hey, Bulldog" was ever ubiquitous like other parts of the Beatles catalog, but I certainly listened to TPE far more. I got to interview drummer Ciaran McLaughlin for B-Side Magazine; that I could cover them was a reason I loved writing for B-Side; that I had to battle another writer for the chance was why I loved our staff (The other writer got to interview the Chills, so we were even.)

Anyway, the Undertones reunited and toured a few years ago, so it was almost inevitable that That Petrol Emotion would follow suit. They were never hugely beloved, so I hope they find enough of an audience to warrant another U.S. tour that includes Boston.

That Petrol Emotion play with the Mad Scene at 7:30 tonight at the Bell House, 149 7th St, Brooklyn, NY 718-643-6510.

Concert Recommendation: Ted Leo/Pharmacists, UMass Lowell, December 4

As someone who has promoted campus concerts, I know how hard it is to spread the word beyond campus. I only found out that Ted Leo/Pharmacists are playing a charity benefit show at UMass Lowell because I'm taking a continuing education class there and flyers were posted in the music building. I saw the band open for Dismemberment plan about 8 years ago, and they made a bigger impression than the headliners, partially because "The Ballad of the Sin Eater" has rightfully become a college radio standard.

Ted Leo/Pharmacists headline Rock for Tots 2009 at Cumnock Hall, UMass Lowell on Friday, December 4 at 7:30 p.m. More information at www.wuml.org. Public tickets at www.umltickets.com.

Concert Recommendation: Nitzer Ebb, Paradise Rock Club, December 3

It's been long enough to ride the nostalgia train. Some industrial bands of the late '80s and early '90s such as KMFDM and Nine Inch Nails have just kept chugging along to varying degrees of fame. Nitzer Ebb took a long breather after interest in the genre waned, but they're back, and they're on tour, still with Bon Harris, Douglas McCarthy and Some Other Guy on percussion. Their Teutonic name and sound implied that they're German, but they're British; their moniker is the equivalent of Häagen-Dazs, foreign-sounding but meaningless. But that Teutonic sound was great, taking the spareness of synth-pop but adding an aggressive edge with hits like "Control I'm Here," (but not "Strike to the Body" by sound-alike Chicago duo Die Warzau). They honed their live act opening for the likes of Depeche Mode and working the summer festival circuit.

Catch them now before they relive the old days, opening for Depeche Mode in Europe early next year.

Nitzer Ebb play with Provocateur, DJ Chris Ewen at the Paradise Rock Club, 967 Commonwealth Avenue, Boston, 617-562-8800 at 9:00 p.m. on Thursday, December 3.

Concert Review: Art Brut, The Middle East, Cambridge, MA, October 16, 2009

I'd initially written off Art Brut for their bedsit preciousness but was finally starting to embrace them for embodying the spirit of late '70s/early '80s British punk, the inept rather than the angry strain. My interest was rewarded by their energetic performance at the Middle East last Friday. What they lack in technical competence they more than make up for in enthusiasm and bravado. Their absolute commitment to the material and the performance outweighed any bum notes.

In nod to the show's location, they opened with a cover the Modern Lovers' "Roadrunner," and kept on running. These are no poets, and their songs were very literal with a focus on the mundane, an everyday existence that includes love of music and comics. Both the subject matter and the style of the backing vocals was reminiscent of the Undertones. Had they done a straight cover of "Mars Bars," those unfamiliar with the original would easily assume it was their own next to songs like "D.C. Comics and Chocolate Milkshakes."

Freddy Feedback's bass lines gave a nod to the Fall, although Eddie Argos's voice suggested sinus infection rather than dentist's drill, as does Fall frontman Mark E. Smith's. It was an exuberant rhythm section. Mikey Breyer played his drum set standing up because he appeared too excited to ever sit down. Feedback looked like she'd developed muscle tone in her cheeks from grinning so much at the shear delight in playing in her band.

They already have their own version of "Hey, Ho, Let's Go!" in "Art Brut. Top of the Pops," which the crowd started chanting until the band returned for an encore. They obliged with "Slap Dash for No Cash," in which they self-referentially praised their own brand of ramshackle rock and roll and made a convincing argument for its value.

Get Rid of Your Stupid Band Name

A word of advice to up-and-coming bands. If your group aspires to anything greater than being a means to picking up girls at frat parties, change your stupid band name. How can you tell if your band name is stupid? If it includes reference to a living person, particularly a celebrity, it's stupid. Yes, I'm talking to you, Natalie Portman's Shaved Head and the House that Gloria Vanderbilt. If it contains words that are likely to be blocked by the most rudimentary internet filters, it's stupid. Yes, I'm talking to you, Fuck Buttons. If you are overly amused by its novelty value, it's stupid. There have been plenty of bands through the years called Free Beer, and you see how far they've all gotten. If you're convinced that changing your stupid band name will make you lose your following, you are stupider than your band name and don't have much of a following to squander.

Anvil Coda

I'm not a big metal fan and usually treat the press releases that hit my inbox with indifference, but this one sent shivers up my spine. It is a heartwarming epilogue to the documentary Anvil: the Story of Anvil. The film chronicled the aborted rise of little-known but well-regarded Canadian metal band Anvil. They were on brink of stardom in the early '80s, and while their contemporaries went on to great fame, that next step eluded Anvil. Bad luck, bad circumstances and bad decisions kept them from ever making it big, but founders and brothers-in-spirit Lips and Robb Reiner have kept the band going all these years. The film ends with Lips' endless optimism finally paying off as they play before thousands of rabid fans in Japan.

Well, it gets better. The interest in the band generated by the film has them opening for AC/DC on a few stadium dates, and their latest album is getting wider release. The mere fact that they have an experienced, competent publicist spreading the word is a sign that things are finally heading in the right direction for them.

ANVIL CONTINUES EXTRAORDINARY COMEBACK
WITH AC/DC DATES AND NATIONAL RELEASE OF 'THIS IS THIRTEEN'

Los Angeles, CA - July 22, 2009 -- Certainly one of the most feel-good rock n' roll comeback stories of recent times is that of Canadian heavy metal band Anvil. The band, considered a major influence for a generation of hard rockers including Metallica, Slayer, Anthrax, and Guns N' Roses, was the subject of a critically acclaimed, must-see rock-doc, 'Anvil! The Story of Anvil,' directed by Sacha Gervasi. And in the process, the film has made the group (led by singer/guitarist Steve "Lips" Kudlow and drummer Robb Reiner - both founding members) a household name. But the group's story will certainly not end with the film.

First up for Anvil are U.S. shows opening for Aussie rock legends AC/DC - in football stadiums. We're really excited about these shows, we've only heard awesome things about playing in football stadiums. I was with the Green Day guys last night, and they were telling me, 'Man, it's probably going to be the gig of your life'!"

And then on September 15, This is Thirteen will finally see proper national distribution on CD and vinyl via VH1 Classic Records. The CD will feature the newly recorded, never-before released bonus track "Thumb Hang." The collectible double vinyl LP boasts newly re-recorded versions of Anvil classics "Metal on Metal" and "666." The album, originally recorded in 2007 and produced by Chris Tsangarides (Judas Priest, Thin Lizzy), was primarily available directly from the band via their website and at their concerts.

"'This is Thirteen' is more like our first three albums," says Lips, "which represent our real identity. For many of our albums, we went on an 'integrity hunt' instead of on a 'commercial/radio hunt,' so we became extremely inaccessible to radio. This time, we stepped back and said, 'What were we originally?' And we rediscovered ourselves, I suppose." Reiner adds, "There are three tracks that in my opinion, are definitely, 100% AOR/hard rock/commercial radio tracks - 'American Refuge,' 'Flying Blind,' and 'Feed the Greed.' Catchy melodies, incredible drum feels - they just all rock."

The title track is about as classic Anvil as you can get - that slow, powerful, heavy backbeat with cool changes. The violent-sounding "Bombs Away" is, according to Reiner, "the almightiest metal track on the entire record," "Ready to Fight" is pure speed rock 'n roll - Nugent on steroids - that boasts super-heavy drumming, and "Big Business" is akin, musically-speaking, to Cream's classic "Sunshine of Your Love." And then there's the true classic, Anvil near-anthem, "Shoulda' Woulda' Coulda'," that's about living life with no regrets.

Reiner points out that the input from acclaimed producer Tsangarides (who produced early Anvil albums) was a major reason for This is Thirteen turning out the way it did. "The last four or five albums, material-wise, were all similar. We had been trying to find the direction back to the classic Anvil style and sound - it's just that the production hadn't been up to scratch. Chris was a big missing part on our past albums."

Despite some zany Spinal Tap-like parallels between Anvil and David St. Hubbins and company in the film, Anvil has always been taken seriously by metalheads, including some very well known rock stars, who praise the band in the film. "Anvil was one of those bands that just put on this really amazing live performance," said Velvet Revolver/ex-Guns N' Roses guitarist Slash, while Motorhead singer/bassist Lemmy added, "They were a great band - I always liked Anvil," and Metallica drummer Lars Ulrich gushed, "These guys were going to turn the music world upside down."

So, the AC/DC dates, the release of This is Thirteen, what else can fans expect from Anvil in the future? Lips was willing to provide a hint: "Working. More recording. More gigs. More - more than ever!"


AC/DC DATES:
JULY
28 Gillette Stadium, Foxboro, MA
31 Giants Stadium, East Rutherford, NJ

AUGUST
6 Magnetic Hill, Moncton, New Brunswick CANADA

Quadrophenia Musical

Cold on the heels of the Tommy stage musical in the mid '90s, there is now a stage musical version another Who rock opera, Quadrophenia. The show is currently touring England with hopes of landing on the West End. (I'm assuming this is the British equivalent of playing Madison and Buffalo to fine tune and road test a show on its way to Broadway.) Here's a trailer for it:



The fact that the characters sing will distinguish this from the outstanding movie. The only obvious shortcoming is "Lover Reign O'er Me." I'm a fan of the Who because I'm a fan of Pete Townshend, but "Love Reign O'er Me" is my favorite song in part because it is such a grand showcase of Roger Daltrey's vocal talents. No one can match his towering majesty on that song, and the star of this show has no option but to pale in comparison.

Concert Review: The Church, Showcase Live, Foxborough, MA, July 2, 2009

Steve Kilbey was in particularly good spirits. He praised the venue, noting that the green room was nicer than the whole gig in Detroit. And the place was swell, but it's also a little sad that the Church are playing a club specializing in nostalgia acts and tribute bands, on the far outskirts of Boston with plenty of free parking to appeal to suburb parents like me. Yes, the band got the biggest response to their '80s hits, but the newer material holds its own, especially the enthralling "Space Saviour" off their latest release, Untitled #23. Marty Willson-Piper fingers are just as nimble as ever, and he remains a psychedelic guitar demon.

They opened with "Tantalized," and its swells and delirium magically transported me back to the first time I saw them, touring in support of Heyday in 1986. I felt like I was about to lose control of my bowels. The set bridged their career although was heaviest on #23 and their U.S. commercial peak Starfish.

Steve Kilbey was fit and tanned. While Marty Willson-Piper's long hair made him look like a romantic goth in the '80s, its uniform length, flecks of frizzy gray and his beard have transformed him into an aging hippie. Peter Koppes is merely aging gracefully. The three traded duties and instruments throughout the evening. Koppes and Willson-Piper swapped lead guitar. Willson-Piper and Kilbey swapped their bass and, for some songs, a battered acoustic guitar that looked as though it were held together with electrical tape.

When they exited the stage, someone in the audience yelled out, "You're still beautiful!" While it probably was a request rather than an effort to inveigle the band to return for an encore, especially since he subsequently called out other song titles, it was appropriate sentiment. They were clearly having fun, especially churning out feedback during the two encores.

The Church continued their tradition of having the former frontman of a '90s shoegazer band open for them. In 2006, it was Rob Dickinson of the Catherine Wheel. This time it was Adam Franklin of Swervedriver. The difference is that the Catherine Wheel were rather distinctive in the movement. But, quick, think of a Swervedriver song. Yeah, I couldn't either. Or maybe that one was by Chapterhouse. Franklin and his band built up quite a guitar-based din at times bur rather lacked for well-structured songs.

Stephin Merritt Off-Broadway

As a logical extension of his creating music for the audiobooks of dark-themed children's literature, Stephin Merritt is the composer and lyricist for a stage production of Neil Gaiman's Coraline, now playing in New York. Merritt is best known for his band the Magnetic Fields, but he's got zillions of off-shoot projects. (He's like a nerdy Al Jourgensen.) Under the Gothic Archies header, he performed theme songs for each of the Lemony Snicket Series of Unfortunate Events audiobooks, compiled as A Tragic Treasury when the series was complete, as well as music for the Coraline audiobook. Now the book has been turned into a full fledged off-Broadway musical, so who else but Merritt could provide the music.

Coraline plays at the MCC Theater at The Lucille Lortel Theatre, 121 Christopher St., New York, NY 10014, (212) 279-4200, through July 5.

Concert Review: Nine Inch Nails, NINJA2009 tour, Comcast Center, Mansfield, MA, June 3

This year marks the 20th anniversary of Nine Inch Nails' debut album Pretty Hate Machine, but Trent Reznor and his current henchmen were hardly trading on nostalgia. They all but ignored that first album yet still had the audience enrapt. But also gone were the trappings of more recent tours, namely the heavy use of visual images as part of the overall presentation. The visuals were limited to occasional seizure-inducing strobes. They even eschewed video close-ups on the Jumbotrons flanking the stage.

Somewhat Damaged
Reznor is screaming, "Too fucked up to care anymore." I'm pondering whether Nine Inch Nails has received the academic examination it so clearly merits, and whether filling that possible void is why I should be heading back to grad school.

1,000,000

Discipline
Appropriately addictive.

March of the Pigs
It makes fantastic use of dramatic pause. The band is in a total frenzy, especially the wild-haired drummer with primitive style resembling Lori Barbero of Babes in Toyland (thank you to my husband for that comparison). They come to a dead stop, then resume the frenzy.

Piggy (Nothing Can Stop Me Now)
They manage to be both visceral and precise.

Metal
A Gary Numan cover. The staccato bass that dominates differentiated it from the band's own compositions, but they make it their own. For the first time in decades, I feel cool for having bought The Pleasure Principle in 8th grade. As the song winds down, the rest of the band backs away from their instruments to leave Reznor alone on keyboards.

The Becoming

Echoplex
The synthesized beats and heavy bass resemble New Order.

Burn
Reznor alternately attacks and retreats from the microphone.

Gave Up
Reznor turns "Feels" into a polysyllabic word.

La Mer
The typically taciturn Reznor hasn't uttered a spoken word to the audience but suddenly turns confessional. He gives an extended introduction about locking himself away 10 years, writing only one song and trying to kill himself. He acknowledges it is hard to go back there because it still feels haunted. While it sounds like he is only talking about the song as a metaphorical place, his explanation ends on a happier note; he is returning there to get married. The arrangement features an upright bass and Reznor on marimba.

The Fragile

Gone, Still

The Way Out Is Through
Reznor swaggers.

Wish
Reznor brings out friend-of-the-bad Dan for extra guitar punch.

The Hand That Feeds

Head Like a Hole
It took 1 hour and 20 minutes to finally get to something from Pretty Hate Machine for their traditional set closer.

Hurt
This follows a brief ceremonial retreat to the wings to designate this an an encore. Even after 15 years, Reznor still makes this song sound like an open wound. It ends the set on an unexpectedly somber note.

I had incorrectly assumed that Jane's Addiction were the opening band for the tour, not co-headliners. When NIN took the stage first, my gut reaction was, "Oh, good, I can go home early." NIN and Jane's Addiction may have emerged almost concurrently, just as the awkward moniker "college rock" was giving way to alternative as a music and marketing force, and both both bands are loud, but the similarities soon end. Jane's is loud and merely busy, whereas NIN is loud and intense. With two ostentatious guitar solos and a drum solo in just their first song, JA clearly weren't drawing on punk's appreciation of brevity. NIN's early '80s antecedent was Gary Numan while Jane's Addiction's was Van Halen. I'll give Perry Farrell credit for rockin' the form-fitting gold satin jumpsuit as he strutted like a peacock around the stage. But beating the traffic backup exiting the parking lot was far more appealing than a whole set of this.

Traffic delays caused me to miss all but the last song by opener Street Sweeper Social Club, aka Tom Morello's new band. Morello used his tremendous charisma to exhort the whole audience onto their feet, even alluding to Rage Against the Machine lyrics, acknowledging, "There's always someone saying, 'Fuck you, I won't do what you tell me.'" Once everyone had arisen, the guitar-heavy band used their chops to earn the response. Morello is unlikely to match the heights of Rage again, but he is still impressive in working up a crowd. It's always good to see someone use their intelligence and talent for good, not evil.

So Long, Jimmy Sturr

The New York Times just reported that the polka category is being cut from the Grammy Awards.
http://www.nytimes.com/2009/06/05/arts/music/05polk.html

The main outcome is that I and anyone else who follows the Grammy Awards closely while be forced to find a new punchline to replace Jimmy Sturr. The category has only been awarded since 1986, but polka "star" Sturr has won 18 times. In the presentations I have given on how to buy music for libraries, he was the prime and comedic example of why buying every winner in every category isn't necessarily a good idea. I'll need to find some new material before my next talk.

Concert Review: Lady Sovereign, Paradise Rock Club, May 3

Lady Sovereign has been upstaged quite a bit since being dubbed "Feminem" and making a splash with Vertically Challenged just four years ago. M.I.A. has come to the forefront for British female hip-hop. Other female British artists have become more newsworthy for some combination of blue-eyed retro soul, MySpace success or substance abuse problems. Still, she drew a sizable crowd to the Paradise on Sunday night.

DJ Annalyze worked the crowd for an extended stretch before Lady Sov and her drummer took the stage. The petite rapper worked the stage, striding from one end to the other and occasionally mugging for the many fans armed with cameras and camera phones. However, she did chide one person near the stage, "Would you please stop texting." She didn't mind the technology as long it was focused on her.

While a few of her songs are undeniably great -- "Love Me or Hate Me" and "Random" were fun for riling up the crowd -- there was nothing to suggest that she's an artist for the ages. For all her energy, she didn't bring enough to her performance or material that was truly outstanding.

Concert Recommendation: Sickidz Tribute to Lux Interior, Triton, Philadelphia, April 26

It was obvious from watching Mick Cancer when he fronted Pink Slip Daddy that he owed a debt of gratitude to Lux Interior. I have only fond memories of a New Year's Eve bloody nose when my face got in the way of his boot as he went airborne during a Pink Slip Daddy performance at the Khyber Pass. As I learned more Philly music history, I found out that Mick and his first band, Sickidz were friends, not just fans of the Cramps, which Mick documented so beautifully shortly after Lux's death:

http://nextbigthing.blogspot.com/search?q=mick+cancer

Sickidz will be honoring the late Mr. Interior in Philly on Sunday. The event will feature the music of the Cramps, a showing of their infamous concert at Napa State Mental Institute, never before seen video footage and shared recollections.
 
A memorial service of Crampsong will be performed by The Sickidz.

A portion of the proceeds will be donated to http://www.bestfriends.org in Lux's memory.

Sickidz play Tritone, 1508 South St., Philadelphia, 215–545–0475, at 9:00 p.m. on Sunday, April 26.

The A's: Back in Print

Back when radio stations reflected local tastes and interests, there were regional hits. Philly had a string of them, acts who made waves nationally but made a huge splash locally. Before Tommy Conwell, the Hooters and Robert Hazard, there were the A's. Their albums just predated the birth of the CD, and they have never been on CD until now. Get your fix of "A Woman's Got the Power."

Not Just What I Needed

Greg Hawkes, keyboardist of the Cars, has released a solo album, The Beatles Uke. It is exactly what the title suggests, Beatles songs played on the ukulele. I recognize that the Beatles are the most important band in the history of rock and roll, but I really wish he'd performed Cars songs instead. I have nothing against the Beatles, but I've had enough of them. There is far worse music that could be overexposed, but their music is ubiquitous, and novelty interpretations have, quite simply, lost their novelty. Among the collection at the library where I worked were Beatles songs performed as jazz, reggae, lullabies and children's music, on cello, by German heavy metal and classical choral groups and even by Looney Tunes characters. Give it a rest.

The Demise of the CD

What happens when CDs disappear as a commercial product? That was the question addressed at a plenary session at the recent Music Library Association annual conference held in Chicago, "What’s Next? The Compact Disc as a Viable Format in the Future of Music Libraries." Greg MacAyeal, Assistant Head of the Music Library at Northwestern University, assembled a panel that made it clear that this is inevitable although not imminent. The shift to music distribution as downloads has few notable shortcomings, but those are being addressed. One is the degradation in sound quality compared to CDs. The other is that standard metadata for popular music doesn't work for classical, where the "artist" could be the composer, conductor, orchestra name or soloist, and track names make little sense on their own, such as "adagio" as a single movement in a symphony. But two panelists made particularly strong points about the importance of a physical format from the artists' and libraries' perspective.

Chicago-based classical violinist Rachel Barton Pine discussed one circumstance in which a CD is invaluable: after her concerts when she heads to the lobby to sell music and meet her fans. The selection of her releases offers a starting point for conversation as she helps them chose one to buy, and they get a souvenir of the event when she autographs their purchases. The physical item is a tangible memento with immediate gratification that they can listen to on the way home. If she only signed postcards with pictures of their albums, the autograph wouldn't be an intrinsic part of the thing, and the music cannot be an impulse purchase. Fans may forget to go to the web site later to purchase downloads. If nothing else, she brought up the unexpected point that even classical musicians work the merch table, not just indie rockers in grubby clubs.

D.J. Hoek, Head of the Music Library at Northwestern University, drove home the unique aspect of this changing distribution scheme as it severely affect libraries: licensing agreements. More and more releases are available only as downloads, not physical items. While CDs are sold without restriction on who can use them, standard licensing agreements limit downloading to "end users." Since libraries are not end users themselves, no library can add these to their collections. He gave the notable example of Gustavo Dudamel and the Los Angeles Philharmonic's recording of  Berlioz's Symphonie Fantasique which just won a Grammy for its producer and garnered another nomination for itself. According to the terms from the label that released it, Deutsche Grammophon, one of the largest classical labels, it may only be downloaded by "end users." So while this is a culturally important work, no library can fulfill its most basic mission of collecting and providing access to this material. Because libraries are such a small portion of the market and our activities could be perceived as cutting into potential sales, they are in a poor position to ask for special dispensation. But without change, it will become impossible for libraries to preserve our culture.

Elvis F**king Christ Has Left the Building

I'm utterly baffled by the news that Lux Interior, lead singer of the Cramps, has died. This is inconceivable to me. I understand that people are mortal. I can accept the passing of Joey Ramone, Joe Strummer, and millions of others who have gone before their time or well past their sell by date. But Lux struck me as, well, inhuman. He regularly produced gallons of sweat while performing, without any evidence of dehydration. (John Doe still earns my nomination for sweatiest man in rock, though, because he does it in natural fibers while Lux favored sweat-causing synthetics.) More impressively, he threw up on the stage in the middle of performance at the Reading Festival in 1991, understatedly announced, "I feel much better" and just kept on singing. If nothing else, I thought that level of commitment would keep him going forever, but he had a preexisting heart condition.

I'm currently consoling myself listening to Tim Napalm's tribute on Woody Radio, but I'll need to fire up Fiends from Dope Island tomorrow if Tim doesn't get to it before I fall asleep, just to hear "Elvis Fucking Christ."

Console Organ for the '00s

This looks like an SNL parody, but this really is straight-faced video from Microsoft Research for Songsmith. As a former usability specialist, I shook my head in disbelief at the line, "Microsoft, huh? So it's pretty easy to use?" As a former intellectual property paralegal, I was surprised that their legal department let this out with a © where a ™ should be, even if it's for a fictional product.


The gist of it: you sing into your computer's microphone, and the software creates backing music with customized effects, all of which sound like the console organs that used to be demonstrated and sold in malls. To get a sense of the results, someone ran David Lee Roth's vocal track for "Runnin' With the Devil" through the program.
http://music.metafilter.com/2943/Runnin-With-The-Songsmith

Godfathers Tour Cancelled

The Godfathers U.S. tour has been cancelled except for just a single date for the St. Valentine's Day Massacre show in Chicago on February 14. They announced bluntly that it was for economic reasons, even though the Middle East, intended host of the February 11 show, claims it is due to illness.

Damn, if I had the money, I'd sponsor the tour. But as the band said themselves, "I want everything. I want it now."

Here's the official word.

Godfathers Reunion

The Godfathers have reunited with the original line-up for a US tour supporting the reissue of their debut album Hit by Hit. Despite or because of lyrics that reflected the harsh realty of Thatcher-era Britain, they found greater (relative) fame in the States than in their native England. They put on an electrifying show: Peter Coyne snarls on vocals, Kris Dollimore plays a searing guitar, and I am in heaven.

Here are the dates:
Wednesday 11 Boston, MA-The Middle East
Thursday 12 Washington DC-9.30 Club
Friday 13 Cleveland, OH-The Grog Shop
Saturday 14 Chicago, IL-The Metro
Sunday 15 Minneapolis, MN-Seventh Street Entry
Monday 16 Milwaukee, WI-The Shank House
Wednesday 18 Hoboken, NJ-Maxwells
Thursday 19 Brooklyn, NY-The Bell House

Worst Album Covers

On a less serious note, Red Eye has a gallery of 50 of the worst album covers. At least the Electric Amish and the Frivilous Five were clearly aiming for humor, and Cody Matherson may have been inspired by Kirk Van Houten, Milhouse's dad on The Simpsons, with "Can I Borrow a Feelin.'". The rest of have no excuse.

Best of 2008

For the most part, my favorite CDs of the last year were ones I've reviewed for CDHotlist. Here are highlights, with links to the pages with my original reviews.

Alejandro Escovedo: Real Animal
Maybe because he has never been gotten huge, the Texan still has something to prove. His latest reflects on his life and proves that heartfelt doesn't have to be sappy and squishy.
http://cdhotlist.btol.com/cddetail.cfm?yy=2008&mm=8

The Hives: The Black and White Album
Swaggering Swedish garage rockers who show they aren't one-hit wonders.
http://cdhotlist.btol.com/cddetail.cfm?yy=2008&mm=2
 
Ting Tings: We Started Nothing
Fun, cheeky guitar-based pop.
http://cdhotlist.btol.com/cddetail.cfm?yy=2008&mm=8
 
The Pretenders: Break Up the Concrete 
The title of the opening track, "Boots of Chinese Plastic," may be a nod to Bob Dylan's "Boots of Spanish Leather," but the song is all Chrissie Hynde at her finest.
http://cdhotlist.btol.com/cddetail.cfm?yy=2008&mm=12

Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds: Dig, Lazarus, Dig!!!
Only Nick Cave could get away with this many exclamation points in his title and lyrics without sounding like a fool.
http://cdhotlist.btol.com/cddetail.cfm?yy=2008&mm=6

Nine Inch Nails: The Slip
The free one for the fans. At the turn of the millenium, fellow '90s future Rock and Roll Hall of Famer Billy Corgan was whining about not being able to compete in a world dominated by Britney Spears.  Trent Reznor ignored the commercial winds and just got on with the business of creating music, along the way building a loyal fanbase by relating to them and how they use technology without pandering to them artistically.

And, as much as I love the Wedding Present, I have to say the jury is still out on El Rey. I'm not sure if it doesn't measure up to their older work or even Take Fountain or if it's just that, having not reviewed yet, I haven't listened to it closely enough to appreciate its nuances.

ROCKRGRL at IMA: I Will Survive

ROCKRGRL Inc. presented this one-day symposium at the Institute of Musical Arts in Goshen, MA this past Saturday. The theme was "I Will Survive: Making a Living in the Music Business." It opened with an interview with Robin Lane, conducted by ROCKRGRL founder Carla DeSantis, followed by three panel discussions on the past, present and future of the music industry. I participated as a panelist on "Tomorrow: What Will a Career in Music Look Like in the Future?"

Robin Lane was, to this Philadelphian's ears, Boston's answer to Robert Hazard. She found her voice as a singer/songwriter but found her success as the leader of a band in the New Wave era. Like Robert Hazard and the Heroes, Robin Lane and the Chartbusters were a huge regional success. For both, the peak of fame was short-lived, but Robert Hazard was never dropped from his label because he was pregnant, unlike Robin Lane.

Her current work is even more noteworthy. Under the name A Woman's Voice, she conducts songwriting workshops with trauma survivors as a form of therapy. Carla's goal in building the event around Robin was to help spread the concept so that others can replicate it elsewhere.

In contemplating the rest of the day's discussion, I realized how much has changed since I regularly attended music industry conferences in the '90s. Back then, the standard goal for musicians was to get signed to a major label and get their songs on the radio to be successful.  But with overall sales down, major labels losing their monopolies on distribution and commercial terrestrial radio losing its influence in exposing new music, the path to initial success, let alone career longevity, is no longer obvious.

The recurring theme among those who had found success was the need for reinvention, of creating and seizing new opportunities. Nini Camps built her DIY career into gigging 200 nights a year; she transitioned to the less grueling work of working on soundtracks. She commented that it has forced her to focus on the craft of songwriting, especially when she has strict deadlines. Lizzie Borden has moved on from recording for a major label to DJing on a rock radio station, among other endeavors. Kudisan Kai got a long string of work as a back-up singer for the likes of Anita Baker, Chaka Kahn and Elton John. Despite Elton's backing, she couldn't get a major label deal because the A&R rep couldn't imagine how to market a black female rock singer, but her varied background made her an ideal faculty member in voice at Berklee College.

Some existing institutions in the music industry remain effective, albeit in new ways. Musician Sonya Kitchell described how her A&R rep fills the role of a tough coach, offering outside perspective on her work and egging her on to aim higher. Brooke Primont of Cherry Lane Music Publishing described how publishers create exposure and revenue streams for songwriters through placement in movies, television and commercials.

In looking to the future, June Millington, IMA co-founder and member of the band Fanny, lamented Guitar Hero from the perspective that would-be musicians will become discouraged when they discover that learning to really play the guitar is much harder than playing the toy that is used in the videogame. Beth Tallman, General Manager of Rykodisc, suggested looking to other industries for models for success since so many of the music industry's established practices are now failing.

It is both a scary and exciting time for music. On one hand, technology such as GarageBand, MySpace and iTunes make it much easier for any musician to record and distribute their music. On the other hand, with the means of production now in the hands of so many, it is even harder to stand out in the crowd and find a sufficient audience to make a living. This was an interesting event that raised questions that could have entirely different answers in just a few years' time.

My next speaking engagement

I wrote for ROCKRGRL until it ceased publication. Since then, editor/publisher Carla DeSantis has produced events, including the upcoming ROCKRGRL Day at the Institute for Musical Arts in Goshen, MA, at which I will be a panelist.

Here's the full description:

It's coming up soon, December 6th is ROCKRGRL DAY at IMA (The Institute for the Musical Arts in Goshen, MA).

The day long symposium is a great opportunity for sharing ideas, strategizing and networking - creating ways to help you build a successful career in music despite the economic downturn.

Carla DeSantis, founding editor of Rockrgrl Magazine, has pulled together a fabulous group of women whose careers and expertise range cover all the bases - from music performance, songwriting, radio, recording and production; to running a label, artist promotion management and booking; to music law and publishing.
 
The event starts at 10:30am with DeSantis interviewing Robin Lane, founder of Robin Lane and the Chartbusters and now A Woman's Voice.  Robin has a fascinating history in the music business and is taking her songwriting talents to women who need them most, trauma survivors.

Lunch will be served on the premises from noon to one followed by these panels and panelists:

1-2:30 - Are the Glory Days of the Music Industry Behind Us?
 Moderator: Ann Hackler, (IMA Executive Director) - Panelists: Nini Camp (musician), Liz Borden(musician, DJ) and Norma Coates (professor, Media Studies)
 
2:45-4:15 - How To Make a Living In Tough Economic Times.
 Moderator: Emily Lichter, (Public Emily management/promotion) - Panelists:  Brooke Primont (Cherry Hill Publishing), Kudisan Kai (vocalist/ teacher Berklee) and Kristin Bredimus (promoter/ NEMO/BMA)
 
4:30-6:00 - Tomorrow: What Will A Career In Music Look Like?
 Moderator: Leah Kunkel (artist/attorney) - Panelists:   Beth Tallman (VP Rykodisc), June Millington  (musician/producer/IMA cofounder) and Marci Cohen (music journalist)

The event costs $75 for adults and $50 for youth/students.  Anyone who has participated in IMA's summer music program for teen aged girls can attend for $25.  Scholarships are also available.  To register on-line go to:

http://www.ima.org/pages/rockrgrlimaday.html

or you can send a check made payable to IMA to: P.O Box 867, Goshen, MA 01032

Concert Review: Nine Inch Nails, DCU Center, Worcester, November 9

Let’s start with the demographics. Trent Reznor is my age. When I went to my first Nine Inch Nails show in 1990, the audience was predominantly around our age. Eighteen years later, neither Reznor nor I were exactly surrounded by our peers. This is both good news and bad news for the band. Clearly this isn’t a nostalgia act coasting on its past glories, only attracting other people in their 40s reliving their own past glories. Nine Inch Nails has continued to make intriguing music but has also cultivated fresh legions of fans, especially through interactive media that is second nature to younger listeners, and has rewarded their loyalty with things like the free download of The Slip.

But while I laud Reznor for remaining relevant with the youths, I’m concerned about his diminishing relevance with his own age group. I’m no longer angry the way I was in my 20s; despondent is now my negative emotion of choice. Reznor displayed great maturity with Year Zero, showing that he was no less angry than in his 20s but that he’d taken a much broader worldview. Rather than a myopic vision of his personal life, he channeled his energy into into a metaphorical indictment of the Bush administration. But if he’s only managing to attract younger fans without holding onto the older ones, I fear that his ongoing accomplishments will be dismissed critically, written off as the equivalent of horror movies whose shock value appeals to mainly to teens. In other words, as little better than Marilyn Manson but with a longer shelf life.

Two factors will likely save the band from that fate. The first is what a potent live show they put on. Reznor has always been a magnetic performer, seething with pent-up aggression but never cartoonish in his presentation. He radiates energy, and it never comes across as over-rehearsed shtick. The rest of the band is perfectly serviceable; they’ll never upstage the frontman, but they don’t limit him the way some of Iggy Pop’s backing bands have. Secondly, he has his undiminished skill as a songwriter and composer. “Discipline” from The Slip conveys the frayed nerves of addiction. Songs from The Fragile have astonishing layers of detail in the arrangements.

After getting the audience riled up, most notably with “March of the Pigs,” the band switched to a calmer interlude featuring several instrumental songs and a lot of mechanical, rather than electronic, percussion. Even without Reznor storming the stage, they put on quite a spectacle, mainly through the use sheer curtains of lights with an imaginative design scheme. The creations worked with the songs and amplified the band’s movements. Taken on their own, they could be a display in a contemporary art museum.

Reznor never spoke to the audience until the encore. He apologized for the show’s postponement and thanked everyone for showing up; it had been scheduled for August but Reznor had a throat ailment. And perhaps meant as a special treat to compensate for the delay, he brought out surprise guest and “old friend” Peter Murphy, for whom NIN had opened in 1990. Murphy was appropriately reptilian for his duet on “Reptile.” I would have been more excited if I actually liked Murphy. I’m fond of plenty of dramatic frontmen, but I’ve never bought his brand of drama.

Opening act Deerhunter had the misfortune of a lead singer who sounds too much like Thom Yorke and looks too much like his dorkier brother, an impressive accomplishment considering how high Mr. Yorke sets the bar.

Wedding Present set list up for grabs

I clearly wasn't the only one trying to grab a copy of the set list at the Wedding Present show at the Middle East. I only wanted it to transcribe to my log rather than for its souvenir value. Whomever emails me first can have it. I'm willing to mail it within the U.S.

Concert Review: The Wedding Present at the Middle East, Cambridge, MA, October 6

The crowd was thin last night at the Middle East for the Wedding Present. The competition was stiff. Stereolab was playing elsewhere and the Red Sox had a playoff game. The Weddoes are now indie rock stalwarts, unlikely to suddenly be trendy with the emo kids. But the band do what they do so well that they've earned more than their limited cult following.

They opened with "Kennedy." Considering how literal David Gedge's lyrics are, often dialog-based, it is a puzzle not only trying to figure out what the song is about but also how wrote something so out of character. But the song was so exuberant that it just didn't matter. They blazed through their catalog and highlighted their latest release, El Rey. The most enthralling was "Dalliance," watching Gedge once again try to saw a guitar in half with his bare hands and seething, "I was yours for seven years/Is that what you call a dalliance?"

Although Christopher McConville's guitar playing was in fine form, the guy looked like he hadn't slept in a week. Bed head, stubble and bags under the eyes go beyond an indie rock aesthetic to merely disheveled. Gedge was his usual timeless self, indistinguishable from what he looked like in 1990 when I discovered the band except for slightly shorter hair. In my years in Chicago, I never happened upon him when he was frequently in town recording, so I don't know if he owns anything other than plain black t-shirts or if he just saves them for concerts. Terry de Castro's rumbling bass anchored the proceedings, and she looked quite stylish in a red sheath dress and brown boots.

Someone called out, "Do you know any Coldplay songs?" Gedge acknowledged that he barely knows his own songs and had to repeatedly apologize for not taking requests for songs they hadn't rehearsed until someone who was pressed up against the stage read "My Favourite Dress" off the set list. In this case "set" list also meant "fixed" rather than maleable.

The set list:
Kennedy
It's For You
Gone
Don't Take Me Home Until I'm Drunk
You Should Always Keep In Touch With Your Friends
Lovenest
Blue Eyes
Palisades
Snake Eyes
Sports Car
Spider Man on Hollywood
Crawl
You Turn Me On
Interstate 5
My Favourite Dress
Model, Actress, Whatever
Real Thing
Dalliance
Dare
Boo Boo

I'm not the cat I used to be, I got a kid, I'm 33, baby

I have two kids and am a bit older than 33, but Chrissie Hynde had a point in "Middle of the Road."

I have recently had reason to reflect on the diminished importance music is playing in my life. I just got back in touch with a friend I made right after college when I was often going to two concerts a week and could have almost had my mail forwarded to the Khyber. We were reminiscing about '80s British post-punk (the Fall, Gang of Four, the Wedding Present, the Mekons), and he commented that the music of his youth resonates with him more than anything current because it is the music of his youth. Then I was completing a survey from nin.com, which was only sent to me because I bought tickets at the last minute for a subsequently postponed Nine Inch Nails show, and many of the questions involved online resources for obtaining and finding out about music. I use them very little, not because I'm opposed to technology or don't like music, but because I just don't have the time to invest in them. Most of the effort I put into discovering new music lately has been for work, keeping up with what's current to purchase it for a library or review it for other librarians.

The music of your youth has two things going for it. When the world is still new to you, emotions are heightened by the lack of experience. To use a parenting example, my kids sobbed when their helium balloon popped, but I've had enough burst balloons in my life, both literal and metaphorical, to not be fazed. And when you are young and have fewer responsibilities, you're left with plenty of time to wallow in your misery or bask in your joy. Music escalate those already-volatile feelings.

Birth, School, Work, Death by the Godfathers made a huge impact on me because it was released when I was going through a tumultuous transition from school to work, about to graduate from college and daunted by the difficult prospect of finding meaningful work, not just earning a paycheck. No one writes songs about the current woes in my life, mainly that my otherwise adorable kids make me nuts at times, and I am daunted by the difficult prospect of finding meaningful work that fits with the demands of parenthood. Even if someone did record a song along those lines, I'd probably be too overwhelmed by the current demands of my day-to-day existence to discover it, let alone have it become a central part of my life the way Birth, School, Work, Death did. I'm still keeping up on music more than the average 42-year-old suburban mom, but I've accepted that I'll never return to the devotion I had as a 22-year-old.

Robert Hazard Has Stepped Off the Escalator of Life

Philly New Waver Robert Hazard, whose 5-song EP was a fixture on my stereo for a stretch of the early '80s, died Tuesday in Boston. The Inquirer has a full obituary of the man who wrote "Girls Just Want to Have Fun." But I'll remember him more for his own recordings.

Review: The Police with Elvis Costello & the Impostors, Comcast

I'd been torn over whether to see the Police again on their reunion tour after my mixed emotions about last summer's show at Wrigley Field. But I was reading Andy Summer's autobiography when tickets went on sale for their Boston area show, and I succumbed. I'm glad. Maybe it's because I sprung for more expensive seats. Maybe it's because the Comcast Center was designed as a music venue, unlike Wrigley Field, so the acoustics were better. Maybe it's because they tightened up the set while still giving in to Andy's desire for the occasional guitar solo. Maybe it's because I had reduced expectations after my mild disappointment last year, but it was well worth it, even if it meant sitting in the parking lot for half an hour trying to leave instead of hoping on the CTA Red Line and zipping home.

"Can't Stand Losing You," was already quite energetic, but they upped the equation by inserting a portion of "Regatta De Blanc." The pairing of "Voices Inside My Head" with "When the World Is Running Down, You Make the Best of What's Still Around" was another successful marriage. These exemplified the best of the show: incorporating both big hits with lesser-known album tracks, keeping the arrangements tight enough to maintain momentum but unexpected enough to not just offer exact reenactments of their recordings.

Sting is losing his upper register, most obviously on "King of Pain." Where other songs were rearranged for artistic reasons, his avoidance of the high notes became a distraction. "Don't Stand So Close to Me" was another awkward rearrangement, fusing the original tense version with the boring yuppie remake that bore too much of a Sting stamp at the expense of Stewart Copeland and Andy's creative input.

As moving as "Invisible Sun" was, especially accompanied by photos of children from war-torn regions around the globe, I kept thinking of "We're Sending Our Love Down the Well," Sting's parody of sanctimonious benefit songs from The Simpsons. Other songs reminded me of the members' post-Police work. "Can't Stand Losing You" brought to mind Stewart's anecdote from Everyone Stares that Sting wore his flight suit so often on one tour and they played that song so often that the flight suit could have played the song by itself by the tour's end. I had greater appreciation for "Every Breath You Take" based on Andy's description of its genesis from One Train Later. I'd always been somewhat dismissive of their biggest hit because it ironically made the least use of Stewart's unique talents. But Andy explained how the signature guitar line came to him in a flash during a tense period, and while he seemingly pulled it out of the air, it was only as a result of decades of practicing and musical exploration, culminating in a song with enduring cultural impact.

Sting and Stewart are still looking quite fit. Sting showed off his muscles in a semi-sheer close-fitting knit shirt, but his scruffy beard was too Captain Ahab. Stewart one-upped last year's moisture-wicking T-shirt with one emblazened with the Ghost in the Machine logo. But looking at their LED avatars with fresh eyes, I wondered if the dot at the end was meant to resemble a decimal point on a calculator or a goiter. Andy's physique is a bit paunchy, but he's kept his most important muscles in shape: his fingers are as nimble as ever. His South Park guitar strap was a surprising embellishment on someone not known for irreverence.

During Elvis Costello's opening set, it looked like my view of the drum riser was going to be blocked. There are few bands for whom an obstructed view of the drummer would be a massive disappointment, but fortunately, I did ultimately have clear sight lines. Stewart opened the show by hitting the gong on the secondary riser with an extensive collection of percussion instruments and ventured back there again to provide complex embellishments for "Wrapped Around Your Finger," among other songs. His percussion work pulled together so many opposing forces: playful yet intricate, athletic yet precise. He frequently abandoned used drum sticks by flinging them into the air and effortless grabbing new ones without missing a beat.

The set ended with its second encore of "Next To You." Andy returned to the stage alone, taking on a stance of mock impatience until he was joined by a boy of about 12 who came on with a bass and played with the rest of the band. I'm guessing it was Andy's son, and it was a cute gesture as the three elder statemen showed him the ropes in front of 16,000 people.

After seeing Stewart's documentary on the band and reading Andy's autobiography, it's clear that the band lived fast and died young even if the members themselves survived. They made it big through relentless touring, pausing only to crank out their five studio albums. No wonder they're planning to call it quits again at the end of this tour rather than strapping themselves back onto that treadmill.

While recording five timeless albums is no easy feat, opener Elvis Costello has pulled off a bigger challenge. Like the Police, he emerged as part of the late '70s punk scene while quickly establishing greater substance than peers who were more notable for their nihilism and wardrobes than actual talent. The Police broke up at the height of their fame, preserving their legacy, but Elvis kept going, taking the risk of diluting the impact of his initial, groundbreaking work. That he continues to earn critical acclaim and maintains an audience who aren't strictly there for his early hits is a testament to the depths of his talent. While the Police fans reserved their biggest cheers for the songs from his first few albums, he certainly had lots of fun making noise with tracks from Momofuku. My disappointment was that I didn't hear him touch 2002's When I Was Cruel, but I was also disappointed that he took the stage before his scheduled 7:30 start time, so I missed some of his set. On the style front, he earned major points for sporting a jacket in the 110% relative humidity, and he wore his scruffy beard with greater panache than Sting, who joined him for "Allison," perhaps because Sting is new to facial hear but Elvis has scaled back from his unfortunate rabbi look of the early '90s.

Set List: The Police, Comcast Center, Mansfield, MA, July 31

Message in a Bottle
Walking on the Moon
Demolition Man
Don't Stand So Close to Me
Voices Inside My Head/When the World Is Running Down, You Make the Best of What's Still Around
Driven to Tears
Hole in My Life
Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic
Wrapped Around Your Finger
De Do Do Do, De Da Da Da
Invisible Sun
Can't Stand Losing You

First encore:
Roxanne
King of Pain
So Lonely
Every Breath You Take

Second encore:
Next to You

Concert Review: Mission of Burma, Paradise Rock Club, June 13

To use SAT structure for an analogy: Beatles : Wings as Mission of Burma : Volcano Suns. Back in the '70s, the joke was that one had to explain to kids that the Beatles were the band Paul McCartney was in before Wings. In the late '80s, when "White Elephant" was a hit single by the very limited standards of Princeton radio station WPRB, I only know of Mission of Burma as the predecessor to the Volcano Suns. Eventually I learned, largely via Michael Azerrad's Our Band Could Be Your Life, that Mission of Burma was a bigger deal.

Reunited for several years with two new albums under their belt, most of the original line-up is remains intact: Peter Prescott on drums, Roger Miller on guitar and Clint Conley on bass. Volcano Suns alum (and current Shellac bassist and Wait Wait... Don't Tell Me sound engineer) Bob Weston has taken over for Martin Swopes on tape loops offstage. This was the second of a two-night stint. At the previous show, they performed Signals, Calls and Marches in its entirety. On Friday, they trotted out VS, which has recently been reissued. They warmed up with other material before embarking on their main mission, and they even announced the beginning of Side 2. They wrapped up with more songs not from that album.

This is the ideal victory lap for a band to take. While their noisiness will always limit their appeal, they have finally found the audience they deserve, and they earned respect with their spirited set. This was post-punk, not fueled by anger, but nonetheless blistering, and their was joy in their playing. They resembled Pink Flag-era Wire but without the arty affectations.

The question remains: Have they considered changing their name to Mission of Myanmar?

For the first time since moving, I was happy to live in Boston

Concert Recommendation: Frisbie at the Double Door, May 15

This will be the last concert I attend in Chicago before moving to Boston, so it's fitting that it's a show with my favorite Chicago band. I'm sure I'll find power pop elsewhere, but it won't be quite the same. Frisbie play with Ultra Sonic Edukators and the Tenniscourts at the Double Door, 1572 N. Milwaukee Ave., Chicago, 773.489.3160 at 9 p.m. on Thursday, May 15.

Charlton Heston, as honored by Stump

As the accolades are compiled for Charlton Heston, let's not forgot that he was the subject of a song by late '80s British also-rans Stump. The track off A Fierce Pancake was distinct for its refrain, "Charlton Heston put his vest on." The timing of the actor's death could not have been more fortuitous for the band; they just released an anthology in the UK. To see the frog-laden video:

http://youtube.com/watch?v=-xxju1pNhuA

Book Review: One Train Later: A Memoir by Andy Summers

If guitarist Andy Summers was overshadowed in the Police by Stewart Copeland and Sting, it was only because he had the relatively smallest of the three raging egos in the band. His side of the story comes to light in his autobiography One Train Later. The title refers to a chance encounter with drummer Stewart Copeland when an early Police line-up was at the breaking point. Summers had joined a going concern and quickly recognized that he, Copeland and Sting had unique and highly developed skills and were being held back by novice guitarist Henri Padovani. Summers had discussed the situation with Sting but was hesitant to approach Copeland with his "him or me" ultimatum. The two ran into each other on the subway, hashed it out and sealed their fate.

This is just one of the colorful stories from Summers life. I knew he was older than his Police-mates and had achieved middling success prior to the Police, but I was unaware of just how much he had accomplished. Handed his first guitar in his teens, he fell in love with the instrument and worked constantly to improve and expand his technique. He moved to London from Bournemouth and hit the ground running. He lined up his first paid gig within days of his arrival and worked continuously for years, eventually relocating to Los Angeles. He describes the grueling pace, the influence of hallucinogens and the artistic striving for something bigger. He seems unfazed by his ease in finding work, with is own bands or joining existing ones, until it comes to an abrupt halt in the mid '70s. He spends the fallow period woodshedding, working on his craft and scraping by on a meager existence teaching guitar. He marries his second wife and brings her back to England with barely a penny to his name.

He makes a go of it as a touring guitar for hire, which provides a steady income and steady intake of alcohol but little artistic satisfaction. He eventually finds his way to the Police, where he finds his niche in the perfect confluence of factors. The band embraces the spirit and energy of punk but rejects punk's disdain for virtuosity; they struggle to find a pathway between the two extremes, retaining credibility in the punk world while carving a new sound. They tour relentlessly to all corners of the world, earning their fame one tiny audience, one dingy nightclub at a time, succumbing to the wear-and-tear of life on the road, the excesses presented them as their sales ratchet up and the rifts within the band caused by intertwined ego and artistic drive. He takes so much of the blame for his failed marriage that at times it feels that his motivation for writing the book was an extended apology to his wife. Ian Copeland's book had a more colorful description of getting their gear out of customs in Egypt, but Summers otherwise provides plenty of choice anecdotes about touring in exotic locales. His writing is so vivid, especially in the calmer moments of his life when there was less going on worth describing, that I wondered if he had a ghost writer. But I can't imagine anyone who takes such pride in his craft doing so.

Concert Review: The Hives, The Donnas, The Riviera, Chicago, February 29

Howlin' Pelle Almqvist is not lacking for ego. His repeated calls for applause and adoration would quickly wear thin if the band he fronts didn't actually deliver the goods. But the Hives were non-stop juggernaut of garage rock at the Riviera on Friday night, sometimes soul-inflected, but always smoking. Almqvist and guitarist Nicholaus Arson were the flashy showman, but the whole band was supremely tight. And at least Almqvist invocations for devotion were delivered with a wink, most obviously when informing the audience that they were the best crowd they have ever played to.

As for openers the Donnas, I wasn't that crazy about Van Halen 25 years ago, so an all-female, less debauched version holds little appeal today.

Concert Recommendation: The Hives, The Riviera, Friday, February 29

As much as I love the Hives as a live act, I'd written them off as a novelty one-album wonder after Veni, Vidi, Vicious. Then I heard their newest release, The Black and White Album, and my faith was restored. There is no obvious single because so many songs are so outstanding, a total rush that lends itself to their explosive shows. Come see how rock and roll should be lived and breathed.

The Hives play with the Donnas at the Riviera Theater, 4746 N. Racine Ave., Chicago, on Friday, February 29 at 7:30 p.m.

Event Recommendation: Sound Opinions at the Movies: The Kids Are Alright

In these days of social software, band interaction with their fans is a given. Four decades ago, it was far less commonplace. Yet the Who handed over the reins to a persistent, devoted teenage fan to make a documentary about them. That he managed to show what made the band so fun and fantastic is why the film still matters now. Jim DeRogatis and Greg Kot co-host a special screening of the result, 1979's The Kids Are Alright, followed by a Q & A.

Sound Opinions at the Movies, Music Box Theatre, 3733 N. Southport Ave., Chicago, 773-871-6604 at 7:30 p.m. on Thursday, February 7.

'80s College Radio DJ Let Loose in Mall?

Muzak has lost its stodgy "elevator music" image of bland instrumental versions of songs that were never terribly interesting to begin with. Lots of stores use programmed music with more distinctive personality, but it's usually obviously suited to the retailer's target demographic. Which is why I was so surprised today when shopping at a boring suburban department store, one where I shop infrequently specifically because their clothing styles lack even the slightest edge, to hear "Boys Don't Cry" by the Cure, followed shortly by "Seven Seas" by Echo and the Bunnymen. It was as if the Muzak programming booth had been hijacked by someone from Rhino who had compiled the Left of the Dial or A Life Less Lived '80s alternative and goth, respectively, box sets. Soon enough it was back to mall pap with a bright shiny retro hit from Wham! But it was so pleasantly disconcerting that I considered asking a staff member what was up.

Doonesbury Salutes NIN

Frazz is usually the only comic strip with funny music references, but Doonesbury had a great one on January 28.

http://www.doonesbury.com/strip/dailydose/index.html?uc_full_date=20080128

Album Review: The Redwalls

The quality falls off after the first three songs on the Redwalls' new self-titled release, but boy are those first three some real doozies. "Hangman" is the song the Stooges should have written and recorded for The Weirdness. "Modern Diet" and "Summer Romance" are like early to mid '70s Bowie, glam with a bit of blue-eyed soul inflection, the later with the sentimental but urgent refrain, "Please don't let me hear you say good-bye." Nothing stands out as much on the rest of the album, but it plays like the Strokes with an affection for Mott the Hoople.

Album Review: Jens Lekman Night Falls Over Kortedala

Normally when I review an album, by the time I've written the review I need a break from listening to it repeatedly, no matter how good it is. Maybe it's because I had a short turnaround for my review of Night Falls Over Kortedala by Jens Lekman for CDHotlist and only listened to it a few times, but I can't stop playing it. My "official" review won't run for a few weeks, but suffice it to say that it is charmingly dorky.

My New Writing Outlet

As of the November edition, I am writing for CDHotlist: New Releases for Libraries. Because the threshold is CDs that would circulate at a library or otherwise add value to its collection, my criteria for coverage is different that what I'd write about here. It is also implicit that it is unnecessary to review releases that are so popular that libraries wouldn't think twice about buying them, but I'm unlikely to write about such albums here, either. I'm not yet listed on the contributors page, so you'll have to take my word for it that those attributed to "MC" are mine.

Concert Review: Mudhoney, Double Door, November 2

Any disappointment I had over the Stooges reunion was more than mitigated by the appearance by Mudhoney at the Double Door. They're not just carrying the Stooges' torch, they're keeping the fire blazing. They were noisy but economical, without a wasted distorted note, and articulately pissed off. They blasted through their history with rip-snorting exuberance, from "Touch Me I'm Sick" to the strong, new material from Under a Billion Suns such as "Where Is the Future?"

The guys haven't gone to seed, with Steve Turner and Mark Arm looking as fit as even and Dan Peters looking as slightly unfit as ever. (New guy Guy Maddison on bass is built more in the Peters stocky mold.) While men hit an age where unshaven suggested "homeless" rather than "swarthy," Steve Turner with stubble still resembles a sleep-deprived grad student, a total guitar hero without ever looking the cliché. Even when untethered from his guitar, Mark Arm never commands the stage the way Iggy Pop does, but this is more of a democratic band than a star with a back-up group, and he certainly commits to the songs with his whole body, from his arched back to his scratchy wail.

Although they are the original grunge band that never struck gold off grunge, I have mixed feelings about their marginal appeal. While I wish the best for any band I adore, I'm glad they never fell prey to the shortcomings of fame and fortune. The best measure of what decent guys they are came when Arm cut a song off in the middle. They discussed the problem with smiles on their faces rather than accusations and recriminations, only for Arm to apologize to the audience for his fucked up ears before they resumed.

As for openers Thunderwing, I love a Monks song marginally popularized by the Fall as much as anyone, but I wish the glam revivalists had enough faith to open with their own compositions rather than a Velvet Underground cover.

Album Review: The Stooges The Weirdness

Sometimes reunions are better in theory than in practice. I wanted to love Iggy back with the band that established him, especially after the lame, generic backing he got from lame, generic neopunks Sum 41 on some tracks on Skull Ring, his last solo album. But I am sorry to report that The Weirdness is just blustery. They make a lot of noise, but it's all just wind blowing around. While the band are hardly maestros, their early work had a tautness and economy; now they just bash away aimlessly. Iggy's repeating lyrics doesn't emphasize a point they way, "I Wanna Be Your Dog," did; now it just implies that he doesn't have much to say. I'm glad that Iggy hasn't grown physically paunchy the way many of his aging rocker peers have; hoping for him to remain relevant is perhaps asking too much.

Movie Review: Control

Control, the new Ian Curtis biopic, just doesn't have the same commercial prospects as Ray or Walk the Line. Rather than ending, "...and he went on to become an American icon," this one wraps up, "...and the Macclesfield, England native committed suicide on the eve of the band's first U.S. tour." While a movie about the lead singer of Joy Division may not arouse mass interest, especially when it's shot in grim black and white, it is nonetheless a worthy picture.

The film follows Curtis from Bowie-obsessed teen to his death at 23, although the time frame between those points is vague. It shows his swagger and bravado, stealing his friend's girlfriend, approaching Tony Wilson and demanding that the band appear on the TV show Wilson hosts, so different from the public persona of his awkward, spastic stage presence, which actor Sam Riley captures perfectly. It delves into his ambivalence over fame, his ambivalence over his marriage which he refuses to end despite being in love with his mistress, and his unmanageable epilepsy, all of which lead him to his inevitable end.

While so much of the film is bleak, from the Manchester scenery to the band's spartan songs, it also finds plenty of levity. In an early scene with the band, bass player Peter Hook is portrayed as exceedingly flatulent. (I interviewed the man himself on several occasions and never recall hearing him let one fly.) He and a schoolmate visit an old lady just to raid her medicine cabinet. When he suffers an epileptic seizure on stage his manager tells him afterward, "Could be worse. You could be the singer for the Fall." Only followers of Mark E. Smith (of which my husband and I appeared to be the only ones in the theater) can appreciate why that is such a specific put-down, but it works even without such Manchester music knowledge.

Control is playing at the Music Box Theatre, 3733 N. Southport Ave., Chicago, 773.871.6604.

Concert Review: The Woggles, The Abbey Pub, September 7

The evening was not in the Woggles' favor. The Hideout Block Party was the hipster event of the weekend. The Woggles are hardly the indie rock band of the moment. Not surprisingly, the crowd at the Abbey was thin; they didn't even open the upstairs seating area. So maybe it was only diehard Woggles fans. But still, how often does the majority of the audience dance at a concert? Not just bob their heads in time to the music, but outright dance, moving their whole bodies. The band deserved such a reaction. To say that they committed to the material is an understatement. Lead singer the Professor frequently leapt from the stage, infiltrated the audience and even commandeered the furniture. He, guitarist the Flesh Hammer and bass player Buzz Hagstrom frequently danced in unison while playing, much like the Fleshtones. Mostly, they just peddled their infectious soul-inflected garage rock wares with gusto and earned every fan they made.

RIP Tony Wilson

It's not surprising that it didn't make much of a news splash in the U.S., but Tony Wilson died earlier this month. While he can't take full credit, the man was at least partly responsible for Factory Records, Joy Division, New Order, the Hacienda (a.k.a the Hallucienda), the whole Madchester scene and the irreverently post-modern bio pic 24 Hour Party People. NME has lots of coverage: obituary, news story and tributes from New Order and Alan McGee.

Movie Recommendation: Punk's Not Dead

My cousin's sister-in-law's documentary Punk's Not Dead is now playing at the Gene Siskel Film Center. It focuses on the more recent years of punk. The best part of the film's web site? Part of the URL could be read as "punk snot." How punk.

We Have to Face the Truth Some Time

I lamented not getting to see the Who when they toured earlier this year, at least until viewing Live at Lyon, the bonus DVD accompanying last year's Endless Wire. I've been a die-hard fan of the Who to the point that I could chalk up my disappointment over their 2002 Chicago area show to the recent death of John Entwistle and the poor acoustics and atmosphere of the venue. But as Roger sings in Mike Post Theme on that album, "We have to face the truth some time." Roger's voice is ragged. They play like they are just there to collect a paycheck. I still have faith in Pete's songwriting ability and they may have once been one of the finest live acts, but they are clearly past their prime.

Concert Recommendation: Os Mutantes, Metro, July 11

If you see only one garage psychedelic tropicalia reunion show this summer, make it this one. Os Mutantes play the Metro, 3730 N. Clark St., Chicago, 773.549.0203. at 9 p.m. on Wednesday, July 11.

Concert Review: The Police, Wrigley Field, July 6

There's a fine line to walk when playing a concert full of familiar hits. To just reproduce the recorded versions is artistically stale, but to blow them up too far leads to bloat. The trick is to find a way to make the songs fresh but not flabby. As the reunited Police trotted out their well-known back catalog, they mostly avoided the former but too often fell into the latter trap. They found their best success when mixing up their lesser-known mostly-instrumental songs with their big hits, which is ironic because it was generally the music, rather than lyrics, that got overextended.

The nontraditional location made it more of an event than a concert, but it was never quite as trancendental at Radiohead in Grant Park in 2001. The songs were still fantastic, and the reunion made up for not getting to see the band back in the day, but it rarely sent shivers down my spine.

Some other random thoughts:

• Heading into the encore, my friend asked what they hadn't done yet. I pointed out the obvious, "Every Breath You Take," but also going through my mind was all the odd songs that never get played on the radio, such as "Be My Girl-Sally."
• Sting is one of the few men who can get away with hair product and a receding hairline. I shuddered imagining Sting with a comb-over.
• Since Stewart Copeland brings athleticism to the drums, it makes sense that he favors athletic wear onstage: sweatband, gloves, a shirt from a manufacturer that specializes in moisture-wicking fabrics and, back in the day, track shorts, although he was in long pants last night.
• The Police are the most famous rock band with the least famous guitarist. I bet my husband was typical, unable to recall Andy Summers' name. Is there any other Rock and Rock Hall of Fame shoo-in where it's easier to remember who plays bass and drums than guitar?
• It was a toss-up which person sitting near us was the most annoying: the guy who wouldn't stop mauling his girlfriend except to demand high-5's from strangers, the dude yelling "Yeah!" along with "Invisible Sun" as if it were a frat boy-friendly party anthem rather than a song about searching for greater meaning in life or the oaf who clapped along loudly but never on the beat.
• I almost felt sorry for the suckers who paid to sit atop the buildings near Wrigley Field. The seats face home plate, but the stage was in the outfield.
• I don't know if my dwindled enthusiasm for huge concerts is related to the fact that I no longer have an in to buy good seats at reasonable face value. Ticket prices in general have skyrocketed, and my ticket connection is gone. I wonder if I'd paid through the nose for excellent seats I would enjoy it more or just have higher expectations that would more easily be shattered.
  

Album Review: The Fratellis, Costello Music

A friend who isn't into music at all, upon hearing Decksandrumsandrockandroll by the Propellerheads, commented that it was better than coffee. The Fratellis' debut Costello Music also fits that description. Their glam-infected power pop makes you want to jump up and down. Unlike Paper Tigers by the Caesars, this album lives up to the hype delivered by the track featured in an iPod ad.

Concert Review: Frisbie, Empty Bottle, June 14

Concert Review: Frisbie, Empty Bottle, June 14

It was a banner week in Chicago for power pop bands beginning with F. Fountains of Wayne headlined the Taste of Randolph Street on Friday, and Frisbie took the stage at the Empty Bottle the night before. Based on how sparse the Empty Bottle crowd was, I hesitate to use the term "local favorites" in describing Frisbie, but they could warrant that designation again with their upcoming album New Debut.

Their set started off displaying more potential than the actual goods. I kept thinking that the new songs would probably sound good on the new album, but I wasn't hearing it yet. The abrupt ending of the title track left the audience confused, especially since the persistent hum in the PA made it unclear if they had only come to a false ending. Then they fired up the early stuff, most notably "Disaster," and everything finally clicked. They excelled at both the power and the pop, rocking out with guitars blazing accompanied by gorgeous vocal harmonies.

After far too long with shows too sporadically scheduled, Frisbie plays the Double Door on July 14 for their record release party.

Concert recommendation: Fountains of Wayne, Taste of Randolph Street, Friday, June 15.

I was feeling lethargic and mopey after getting some bad news at work. However, I also have to-do list that I'm trying to blast my way through while my kids off visiting grandparents. So I finally got around to buying the Robbie Fulks song "Fountains of Wayne Hotline" from iTunes. I had not previously realized that FoW's songs were formulaic enough to merit such an astonishing accurate parody/homage, but leave it Robbie Fulks to humorously hit all the key points. As my toddler is fond of saying, albeit about "Crazy Train," "This song makes me happy."

To hear and see the inspiration in action, head to the Taste of Randolph on Friday night, where Fountains of Wayne take the stage at 8:30 p.m., Randolph & May Streets, Chicago.

Faux Indie Rock Guy

With Veronica Mars ending its run, I'm left mulling over why the depiction of the Indie Rock Guy rang false. Some of it can be chalked up to the acting. Chris Lowell as Piz never made an indelible impression and had nowhere near the chemistry with the title character as Logan, played by Jason Dohring.

But the bigger problem was that Piz was made into the Indie Rock Guy by people who are definitely not Indie Rock Guys. First, he didn't look the part. Jack Black and Todd Louiso in High Fidelity looked like they had been hired for the film straight from actual hole-in-the-wall record stores. A patron at the library where I work looked like he came fresh from Indie Rock central casting: scrawny, clothes just hanging on his lanky frame, slightly greasy hair falling into his eyes, big black glasses. Piz just looked like a generic college student.

More importantly, he didn't sound like an Indie Rock Guy. One recent episode had Piz spouting minutia about a fictitious band, but he never sounded convincing about the real thing. He was giddy about lining up a summer internship with Pitchfork Media's New York headquarters, but Pitchfork is based in Chicago. He sneared at someone's enthusiasm for Matchbox 20 and expressed self-contempt for quoting John Mayer lyrics to his girlfriend, but he should have been quoting, for example, Bright Eyes or the Magnetic Fields, instead. It's as if the writers only know who Indie Rock Guy Guy should hate without any real knowledge of who he should love. In other words, it came across as a persona to slap onto a generic character to make him less generic.

On the other hand, Douglas Coupland's indie rock bona fides are so much a part of him that he used Smiths and New Order song titles as titles for his own works.

Random thoughts that went through my mind during the Bloc Party concert at the Congress Theatre on Friday, March 23:

• The refrain from "Helicopters," "Are you hoping for a miracle?" summed up how I felt about the material from A Weekend in the City. I was way off in hoping that the songs would translate better live than they did on disc.
• Matt Tong's nimble but powerful drumming stood out in ways that it doesn't in recordings.
• After Tong shed a jacket of some variety and then his shirt, was the next step going to be waxing his chest hair on stage?
  
• Are concert venues making less money on drinks now that everyone fills the time between sets texting their friends?
• Does the new Chicago smoking ban not apply to concert venues such as the Congress Theatre, or is just too futile to enforce?
• Is it strictly as a memento that people bother taking cell phone pictures at big concerts? Between the distances and the resolution, they're only getting blurry photos of lights on a stage.
• With the ubiquity and miniaturization of electronic devices, do venues no longer ban cameras and recording devices?
• I used to be concerned that I wasn't listening to any new music. Lately, lots of the new music I've been seeking out sounds like old music. And yet the only two people at the concert who were conspicuously older than I were the sound engineer and a dad hovering at the back, likely chaperoning his teenager at a distance.
  
• Since A Weekend in the City hasn't brought a monumental leap in fame over Silent Alarm, I can't be accused of the cliché of thinking they were cool when they were obscure and shunning them just because they're popular. I merely prefer the first album to the second.
  
• Would all of these thoughts have been going through my mind if the new songs were better?

Album Review: The Kooks Inside In Inside Out (Astralwerks)

In skimming critics' end-of-year best of 2006 lists, I was surprised to spot the Kooks in several lists for best song but not best album. That honor is usually bestowed on ubiquitous radio hits, guilty pleasures acknowledged as much for their pop culture impact as much as their actual artistry. But the Kooks hardly made a splash last year. Still, I was intrigued, if only for their Nuggets-worthy moniker.

Listening to Inside In Inside Out, I can see why individual songs such as "She Moves In Her Own Way," made more of an impression that the work as a whole. The band has hooks hung on a acoustic/electric guitar mix, like a sunny, poppier Strokes. But they are done in by the lack of editing. The album doesn't end so much as peter out. The 70-80 minutes that can fill a CD doesn't oblige a band to fill the whole thing. For a band that sounds lifted from the LP era, they would have been better off working with the LP's time constraints.

Concert Recommendation: Bloc Party, Congress Theatre, March 23

Their sophomore album A Weekend in the City is a disappointment after Silent Alarm, with the angularity and caffeinated jitteriness of their debut giving way to overproduction which renders them generic. But Silent Alarm is still a stonkin' great album. The old songs should be great; I have hopes that they can pare down the arrangements on the new stuff and sound like themselves rather than everybody else.

Bloc Party play the Congress Theatre,  2135 N. Milwaukee Ave., Chicago, at 7:00 p.m., Friday, March 23.

Concert Recommendation: Hoodoo Gurus, The Abbey Pub, Sunday, March 25

When discussing the Greenhornes recently with another garage rock aficienado, I complained that when I saw them live, it just wasn't happening. She defended them as good in the studio but awkward in front of an audience. I wasn't buying it. In my book, the definition of a garage band includes a vibrancy in concert that's hard to capture in recording. Australia's Hoodoo Gurus epitomize that, just one hell of a fun live band with catchy pop hooks, tremendous energy and a sense of humor. For example, at one show they offered a free bottle of champagne, given to the band by their record company, to the first audience member to identify the theme in that night's set list; they were performing the songs in alphabetical order. They haven't toured the U.S. in over a decade, so it'll be a welcome return.

The Hoodoo Gurus play the Abbey Pub, 3420 W. Grace, Chicago, 773-478-4408 at 9 p.m. on Sunday, March 25.