A Conversation with Alex Rosamilia of The Gaslight Anthem

There are good bands, and then there are bands with music so good they become the standard of a genre. The Hold Steady have done just that for barroom rock, The Roots have done it for live hip-hop. And more recently, punk rock got its contemporary standard in the form of New Jersey-ites The Gaslight Anthem.

The band, made of singer Brian Fallon, guitarist Alex Rosamilia, bassist Alex Levine and drummer Benny Horowitz, make music that is a synthesis of two of New Jersey’s finest exports — the epic, storytelling, everyman rock of Bruce Springsteen fused sonically with the fast, fist-pumping punk of the Bouncing Souls. And with last year’s The ’59 Sound picking up steam, a cross-country headlining tour about to launch and spots on magazine covers and TV shows piling up, The Gaslight Anthem is about to ignite.

Guitarist Alex Rosamilia, on his last day off before hitting the road, called Gravity Rides Everything to talk rock, Jersey and meditation.

GRE: You’ve had a pretty incredible and quick rise to rock fame.

AR: It’s weird. It’s a constant barrage of surreal moments and pinching myself. I don’t believe this is actually happening because everyone told me it was too impossible for someone like me. We just got back from Europe and most of the shows were sold out. To go to places I’ve never been before and have people stoked to see us, that was incredible.

GRE: How’d the band come together originally?

AR: Brian and Alex were playing together in a band and drafted Benny. The previous guitarist wanted to go back to school and Benny asked if I wanted to join, but I was cautious at first — I’d given up the dream at that point. I was ok with being assistant manager at a sneaker store. I made enough money to do whatever. But he twisted my arm enough to do it.

GRE: A lot’s been made of the band being from New Jersey. Do you feel a particular connection to Jersey bands?

AR: I wouldn’t say there’s a specific Jersey sound or a Jersey genre. But even though everything sounds different, there’s a similar sense of desperation. There’s a hint of claustrophobia because of how easy it is to get stuck in New Jersey. So it’s not a genre, but a state of mind.


GRE: Gaslight’s music has a timeless quality. Is that where the ‘59 Sound concept comes from?

AR: The whole idea behind the record was that we’d found out that we all liked soul music. We basically tried to make an homage to an earlier time. We’re reaching for that sound on purpose — the Stax sound, the Motown sound.

GRE: A lot of songs on the record were written specifically to be live tunes. How do you feel onstage?

AR: This is going to sound really cheesy, but it’s a meditative process. It’s the hour a day where I don’t worry about anything, the only time I feel really focused. We’ll be driving all day, doing photo shoots and interviews, but I get onstage and it all makes sense for an hour. Then I step offstage and it stops making sense again. Onstage I don’t have to worry about creditors calling and asking for money, what I’ll do when I get home. All that shit leaves my head and I just worry about the guitar — a totally innocent thing to worry about. Something can go wrong on guitar and it won’t be the end of the world. Playing a bad note isn’t hazardous to my health.

GRE: There are a lot of styles going into Gaslight Anthem music. What are some acts that have influenced you the most?

AR: Personally, I’d say The Cure. Robert Smith and Johnny Marr have had more say over what I sound like than any guitar player. Peter Green, the original guitar player of Fleetwood Mac, and I’d have to throw in Dave Knudson from Minus the Bear. He’s too good — it’s not fair.

GRE: If you could control the future, what would the next five years look like?

AR: We’d keep doing what we’re doing, but I’d have my own place. That’s the consensus of everybody. I’m currently residing on my friend’s couch. When you’re not home at all, it’s not worth spending money. And I’m not the only one — a few of us are living the nomadic lifestyle right now.

Photo courtesy Lisa Johnson

A Conversation with Erika Wennerstrom of Heartless Bastards

Female voices don’t come tougher, ballsier and more beautiful than the siren call of Heartless Bastards front woman Erika Wennerstrom. Her band’s dirty power blues sound finds Wennerstrom’s voice dragging through gravel, howling in pain like a lover scorned, all over a punch-in-the-gut bed of thunderous dirt-road guitar and percussion.

The band sounds like the soundtrack to riding into the sunset just after the apocalypse. Yup, they’re that good.

Wennerstrom took some time to talk to Gravity Rides Everything as she winded through the country — soon to be in Pittsburgh Sunday night.

GRE: A lot’s been made of your voice. When did you realize you could sing?

Erika Wennerstrom: I was 18 or 19. I’d always wanted to sing, but I never had — I just told everybody I was going to be a singer. Then around 18, I thought ‘Well, I should start doing this if it’s what I want to do as a career.’ I began to write songs and work at it.

GRE: Do you remember first time singing in front of a crowd?

EW: I’m sure it was some sort of open mic night in Dayton Ohio, but I don’t remember the exact night or what happened or anything.

GRE: How’d you get hooked up with [indie label] Fat Possum?

EW: Patrick Carney of The Black Keys walked into a show we did in Akron, Ohio and I thought I recognized him — I went up to him afterwards and we ended up hanging out and drinking some beers. I handed him a demo and he passed it on to Fat Possum.

GRE: At this point in your career, would you consider moving to a major label?

EW: I don’t know. I guess I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it. Ultimately, I’ve got to do what’s best for the band. I think there are a lot of great things about independent labels, and good things as far as the exposure bigger labels can offer. But in the industry right now, I think indie labels do better. They have more loyal followings. I don’t know anyone who says ‘I have the whole Sony catalogue.’ But I know people that are really big fans of labels like Fat Possum or Sub Pop or Matador. Those labels have really loyal followings that will check something out just because it’s on the label.

GRE: Who are some of your vocal idols? Who do you look up to?

EW: I love Otis Redding, Iggy Pop. I love Mick Jagger, Nina Simone, Joan Jett. My influences are all over the place.

GRE: If you could control the future, what would the next five years look like?

EW: Well, I’d hope that I can continue to write songs that I like and have people respond to them. Plus the whole ‘hope to be happy’ stuff. I’d be livin’ the good life.

GRE: What can fans expect to see from a Heartless Bastards live show?

EW: I’m sure everyone’s view of it is a bit different, but I think we’re a good band. I think we’re entertaining. I don’t do any crazy acrobatics or anything — we’re straightforward. We don’t wear costumes. No pyrotechnics or lighting. We put on a good, old fashioned rock and roll show. We’re just doing what we love to do.

Check out Heartless Bastards at Mr. Small's on Sunday night. Expect to leave feeling like you got kicked in the stomach.

T-Pain is a cultural icon bigger than a boat

Goodbye, Paris Hilton. See you later, Jennifer Aniston. The most important cultural icon we’ve got nowadays is none other than T-Pain.

Why? Well, first off, he’s on a boat. He’s on a boat. Take a good, hard look, because he’s sailing on a boat.

In the parallel universe of pop culture that co-exists with the real world in which normal shmoes like you and I exist, T-Pain is the guy that shows up at every party (though no one is sure who invited him). He always has something witty to say, and he probably slept with your sister. And very possibly your mother.

By appearing in just about every popular song to hit the radio, he has become the digitized voice of pop music, the thermometer for what is hot up in da club and what is not.

Seriously, his resume of hits is staggering. Here’s just a sampler: Chris Brown’s “Kiss Kiss,” Kanye West’s “Good Life,” Flo Rida’s “Low,” Baby Bash’s “Cyclone” and my personal favorite, “I’m ‘n Luv (Wit a Stripper).”

Aren’t we all, Mr. Pain, aren’t we all?

But with T-Pain’s latest guest appearance on the brilliantly dumb “I’m on a Boat,” this big-hatted teddy bear has come full circle in the pop universe, revealing that, yes, he knows what he does is silly and meaningless, but damn it, there is nothing wrong with that.


“I’m on a Boat,” written by the regular-dude trio of Andy Samberg, Akiva Schaffer and Jorma Taccone as The Lonely Island, is, at first listen, a club track with a colossal, thumping beat about — predictably — how cool it is to be on a boat, motherf****r.


The lyrics are obviously silly, especially when being rhymed by awkward white boys in tuxedos.

“I’m the king of the world, on a boat like Leo / If you’re on the shore, then you’re sure not me, oh,” is not exactly Dylan, but that’s not the point. “I’m on a Boat” is a spot-on parody of the entire genre of bling-tastic, my-grillz-is-shinier-than-yours hip-hop pop music. The bigger the boat, the more garish the display of wealth.

That part’s easy, though. Without T-Pain, the track would be little more than the best song Weird Al never wrote.

By featuring Mr. Pain, the genre king of mechanized, impersonal party jams, the song not only sounds way cooler, but also raises the tune to a whole other level of parody.

In imitating the sound of big-beat hip-hop tracks, “I’m on a Boat” has become one of the best to drop in months. It’s divine irony is anchored by T-Pain’s self-knowingly ridiculous appearance.

Because his trademark vocal addition to any song is sung through an auto-tune machine, thereby making the sounds you hear on the record not his own, T-Pain is the ultimate disposable pop star.

He is every hip-hop dude rapping about booties droppin’ down to the flo’, he is every pop star singing about love or sex or love and sex and he is every recycled chorus that sounds like a song from six months ago.

By appearing in a song that directly makes fun of just how silly club jams are, he is stepping back from his bling-image and saying, “Yup, it’s pretty stupid.” And in admitting so, he immediately becomes the smartest pop star in the business.

You wouldn’t see Akon on this track — dude takes himself way too seriously. And you sure wouldn’t see fellas like Diddy or Young Jeezy or Usher singing lines like “Never thought I’d be on a boat. It’s a big, blue watery road ... Believe me when I say I f****d a mermaid.” Those guys are too caught up in exactly the image that “I’m on a Boat” is making fun of.

And so was T-Pain.

But by jumping around on a boat, he’s winking to every music listener that has trouble swallowing the meaningless, hollow club tracks that seem to be recycled and redone every few months.

He gets it, he’s in on the joke. But you know what? That doesn’t bother him at all. He’s getting paid, and he’s giving us one more silly banger to get us gyrating on the dance floor.

And you really can’t blame him. Because the dude’s on a boat. He’s on a boat. And all we can do is take a good, hard look at the motherf*****g boat.

And continuing the 'things that are beautiful' tip...

This video hit the web back in January, but it warrants repeated viewings. If you haven't seen it yet, pay attention and listen up. The stop motion action going on here is nothing short of breathtaking, and it helps that the song is quite lovely as well.

Just a bit of background - singer Oren Lavie is an Israeli singer-songwriter with a concentration on theater. The rest of his tunes are very Leonard Cohen-y in their understated beauty, subtle melodies and slow, plodding pace. Really, really nice stuff.

Interestingly enough, his video for "Her Morning Elegance" has hit over 4 million views on YouTube, but the dude's only got 6000 or so friends on MySpace. Guess we're all just in for a one-off, which is a shame — Lavie's no one trick pony. Check the rest of his online music here.

My weekend of Grizzly Bear submission

Brothers and sisters,

It is my hope with Gravity Rides Everything to present thoughtful and thought-provoking discourse on music so as to push readers and listeners to think and appreciate music on a more thorough level. As in, no silly over-hyping, no crazed-fan freakout — I want to keep a weight to the music, hence Gravity Rides Everything.

But damn it, it sure as hell is hard not to have a mini-freak out after hearing Grizzly Bear's new record, Veckatimest.

The copy came to me through a friend in town to give a poetry reading — both the work and the people behind it are quite fantastic. Check 'em out here.

The Brooklynites told me they'd been jamming to Veckatimest consistently on their reading-tour of the past week — they'd fall asleep and be brought back to life by the sweeping sounds of the record, finding themselves in a new city, new surroundings. Thinking about how gigantic each song on the record becomes, only to sink back to the shadows, it sounds like a pretty beautiful experience.

Well, this was Thursday. Now Sunday night, I've fully submitted to the power of the record. I can't turn it off. I've tried, sure, by playing other new music (Thanks you Heartless Bastards and Thursday, but you just can't help) and even old standbys (Good effort, Band of Horses), but nothing can draw me away from this record.

I will likely bite my tongue for typing this at somepoint, as I'm sure that my life will soon be significantly less swallowed by Grizzly Bear, but right now it feels right: Veckatimist is one of the most beautiful pieces of music I have ever heard.


These harmonies are otherworldly — a chorus of ghosts singing from a dark corner in an abandoned house. The guitars alternate between ground-rumbling and barely-whispers, sweeping you up like a strong wind and twirling you around, over and over and upside down and inside out. And then the piano. Oh, lord the piano. Jetting in and out of each track like a devilish and clever child, beautiful, full of life.

The whole album feels like the ocean, it's tides changing over and again, each bringing something different to shore. The scope is both a huge, endless open field and the tiny space under the bed of a scared child where he hides from monsters.

It is absolutely gorgeous. I honestly cannot remember hearing another album that hit me the way Veckatimist has. Maybe The Decemberists' "Her Majesty," and that was back in 2003.

End of weekend count: 21. I've listened to the record 21 times through. That's over 1000 minutes, over 17 hours. I feel like a drug addict. But when the smack is this good, I don't wanna stop.


Here are a few of the most-leaked tracks, in the best video forms I can find 'em. Enjoy. I know you will.

Bands that were huge last year... that I just heard now.

When you're a busy dude like me (class two days a week! an almost sort of full time job! at least 3 requisite nights at the bar a week!), it's easy to let some of the best music slip right by you.

Well, over the past 10 hours, I've spent some much needed time playing catch up with some of last year's gems... instead of writing the paper that's now due in 51 minutes.

Nonetheless, in case you too missed some of these sparks of brilliance, here are a few suggestions to brush up your knowledge of what totally killed in 2008.

Enjoy!

Frightened Rabbit: Yes, I've already kicked myself, difficult as it was, for not having heard Frightened Rabbit until now. But now that I have, my mind is running circles around the beautifully tortured mess that this band creates with each song. Pumping guitars, meandering melodies and enough jangle to creep into every nook and cranny of your brain. Epic, stunning. Listen now.


The Tallest Man on Earth: It's been said over and over and over, so this extremely late name-drop comparison won't hurt any feelings; dude sounds like a more ethereal Dylan. Like Dylan singing from a desolate bayou porch in the middle of the coldest night in November, wind swirling all around him, the only light coming from a single candle that's about to burn out.


Raphael Saadiq: Yessssssssss. Raphael just feels right, like a glass of wine on a night in with somebody to hold onto tight. Does that sound cheesy? Fine, but this is feel-good soul like only the greats like Stevie and the Reverend can pull off. Play this at any time of day for an instant chill out, and expect to call people 'cat' for several hours following.


I've still got more catching up to do, but these three will keep me smiling at least until I hand in this paper... in 37 minutes. Student, me?

Not good at sharing: Coming to terms with 'your' band being everyone else's too

As I type this column, I’m downloading the iTunes advanced release of The Decemberists’ new record, The Hazards of Love. And I’m extremely nervous.

It’s not that I fear the album will be bad, though — the band could release an entire record of power chords and Buddhist chants and I’d likely find something to appreciate. Rather, my apprehension comes from the notion that The Decemberists, a band that I’ve loved for almost six years, is no longer my own.

With each album, The Decemberists have seen a steady increase in both fans and critical attention — a pattern that would suggest that The Hazards of Love will be the band’s biggest record. And if the huge media push (Rolling Stone called it “the Decemberists’ full-on classic-rock move”) is any indication, it’s looking like the band once beloved only by nerds and classics majors may soon be embraced by the people who used to beat up nerds and classics majors.

The Decemberists are primed for the big time, a place filled with bands that suck and the people who love them. What a sad day.

But shouldn’t I, a diehard Decemberists fan (Colin Meloy’s pre-Decemberists band was Tarkio. Who knew that one?) be happy for my band’s growing success? Well, no. Not exactly.

And herein lies the problem so many fans face as their favorite bands make it big. The logic goes like this:

You discover a band you think no one else knows at a time in your life when the band’s music gives you hope. The band becomes “yours,” and you introduce your friends to the music. Your friends begin to love the band as well. The band becomes “theirs” as well as “yours.” This you can deal with — you like your friends, you like your band. The two can co-exist.

But then everyone else catches on, usually because of brain vacuums like MTV. “Your” band begins to be the band of everyone, from the girls with braces and black hoodies in Hot Topic to the quarterback of the football team, whose previous favorite band was Bon Jovi. Your faith in “your” band begins to falter. How can someone like Bon Jovi and “your” band?

Still, if you love “your” band, you should want the best for it, and it’s hard to deny that making millions of dollars is worse than not making enough money to buy gas or underwear.

You’re stuck.

There must be a way to reconcile a band’s success and a fan’s personal connection to the band — they can’t be absolute inverses. Or can they?

Often, a band’s initial output is rough. It’s difficult to absorb, and the band gains a devoted but small following of fans who are willing to put in the time to appreciate the music. As the band gains experience, it’s music becomes easier to digest and the band gains more fans simply because it takes less effort to appreciate the music. To the economist, this is a good strategy. To the diehard fan, this means the band is getting worse.

Every band follows this pattern, from Taking Back Sunday (if you say you didn’t love the first album during high school, you’re a liar) to the Foo Fighters (The Colour and the Shape is a classic, the later stuff is tired — but loved by everyone).

For the diehard fan, decreasing personal connection is actually caused by a decrease in the quality of the music, not merely the accumulation of more fans.

But The Decemberists, much like My Morning Jacket or Death Cab for Cutie, for example, bucked that trend — popularity has grown seemingly because more people have finally heard the band, not because the music’s been dumbed down.

Like The Hazards of Love itself, a 17-part opus about a character named Margaret being ravaged by a shape-shifting dude named William, the situation is complex, and though I could wax philosophical about the price of fame on artistic integrity, the bottom line is that we fans may just have to be alright that “our” bands often become the bands of countless others, whether those countless others appreciate the music as much as we do.


It’s a difficult task, I know, but a necessary one. I’ll always have my Decemberists moments, when I felt like the band and I, in a rather Lifetime Channel way, were truly meant to be together forever. And nothing can take that away from me.

Not even the Bon Jovi-loving quarterback.

Hint: Here's my favorite -

Rothbury bags a beautiful lineup

The festival lineups continue to roll in, and Rothbury (July 2-5) may just edge out Bonnaroo for the title of the Best of 09.

I'd say the top five billed acts alone make the Michigan fest's pricey 250 tickets worth it, but the list stays strong the further down you go.

Unlike both Roo or All Good, Rothbury's been able to straddle the line between mainstream blowout and jam-band heaven by raking in a lineup that is, you could say, a jam-band blowout. The best of both worlds — absolutely gigantic bands that won't appeal to the annoying douchebags who came to see Dave Matthews Band. All rejoice!

The highlights are bolded, but there are few bands that don't excite me to some degree. Damian Marley and Nas?!? Fantastic.

Who's ready for a roadtrip?

The Dead
Bob Dylan and His Band
The String Cheese Incident
Willie Nelson & Family
The Black Crowes
Damian "Jr. Gong" Marley & Nas
STS9
G. Love & Special Sauce
Gov't Mule
Broken Social Scene
Yonder Mountain String Band
The Disco Biscuits
Les Claypool
Cold War Kids
John Butler
Chromeo
Ani DiFranco
Matisyahu
Guster
Girl Talk
Femi Kuti & The Positive Force
MSTRKRFT
Martin Sexton
Flogging Molly
Railroad Earth
The Hold Steady
Toots & The Maytals
Ralph Stanley & The Clinch Mountain Boys
Brett Dennen
Zappa Plays Zappa
Grace Potter and the Nocturnals
Shpongle DJ Set
Son Volt
Jackie Greene
Soulive
Man Man
Peter Rowan Bluegrass Band w/ Tony Rice
EOTO
King Sunny Adé & His African Beats
Lotus
Kid Cudi
STS9 Live PA
The Glitch Mob
Davy Knowles and Back Door Slam
Pretty Lights
Moseley, Law, Sipe & Droll
Rebelution
Quannum All Stars ft. Lyrics Born, The Mighty Underdogs, Gift of Gab & Lifesavas
Toubab Krewe
Sam Roberts Band
Hill Country Revue
Kyle Hollingsworth Band
Lipp Service
2020 Soundsystem
Break Science ft. Adam Deitch
The Hard Lessons
The Low Anthem
Underground Orchestra
Future Rock
The Macpodz
Steppin' In It
Giant Panda Guerilla Dub Squad
Chris Pierce
Rachel Goodrich
The Ragbirds
Four Finger Five

An Ode to Dr. Dog: My Guatemalan Anchor

If you scan down the page, you'll find a picture of a Guatemalan volcano.

Welcome to the last week of my life.

I returned today after, quite literally, more than 24 hours of traveling (tiny rural village of Paraxaj to Guatemala City to Miama to JFK airport to Newark airport to Pittsburgh airport to public transit to home) from what I'd consider the most important and powerful week of my life.

Still, though, I'm too close to the action right now to be able to sort through the impact that my time living in an impoverished village will have on my life — the feelings are too fresh, too new. All I can say is that I'm not sure I'll ever be the same, or that I can ever again willingly embrace the foolish wastefulness of American culture.

But that's another topic for another blog.

Like any intense patch of life, there's music for every emotion. I went into my week in Guatemala with very few expectations for what music I'd crave, and for many of the most intense moments (visiting a family of 10 living in a house the size of a Cadillac), there was simply no music at all that fit.

I wanted nothing but silence.


But, surprisingly, one band rose to the top for those moments when sight and sound matched perfectly: Dr. Dog.

Sure, Explosions in the Sky popped up on the moments when we were driving through the mountains and RJD2 was played in our room when spirits were feeling funky, but Dr. Dog was consistently the band I came back to during the few moments when I needed a musical kick in the pants.

Why? Because Dr. Dog music makes me happier than any other band I can think of.

Just check out "The Breeze." The ethereal, floating harmonies, the slow, bopping melody, the sprinkled piano and plucked-toy guitar. The rhythm driving forward so steadily, so playfully.

And, of course, the line, "What blows us here today will blow us all away...the breeze will blow us all away."


With only one week in the tiny village of Paraxaj, I did feel that the breeze blew me in and swept me away just as quickly. And like the best music should, Dr. Dog brought out the words I couldn't find.

Five bands to keep spring break boredom free. Clearly, a must-read

Here's the deal, folks.

Beginning tomorrow morning, I'll be heading to Manhattan for a few nights of drunken debauchery, immediately followed Sunday morning by a week of sobering reality — in Guatemala.

I'll be spending a week volunteering in an impoverished village in Guatemala and sleeping on a floor. No phone, and definitely no computer.

I know, I know. You're wondering whatever you'll do without GRE. I promise, you will survive. Stay strong, read some old posts for comfort and try to focus on something else, like knitting or reading a book (yes, they still exist!), to take your mind off your sorrow.

For some of us will spend spring break lounging on an exotic beach, perfecting our tans while sipping on drinks mixed with any assortment of alcohol. Some of us will spend spring break in the front seat of a friend’s car, our arm hanging out the window on the way to an unknown destination. And some of us will spend spring break watching OnDemand reruns in our parents’ basement.

Others of us are real people and have jobs (shiver races down spine).

For that third group, I feel your pain. I’ve been there — sure, spending spring break at home seems fun at first, what with all the free home cooking and…well, really just the home cooking.

But by Wednesday, a year’s worth of your mom’s awesome meatloaf couldn’t keep you from yearning to return to school. Your parents started asking you to, you know, do things (Chores?! What the hell?), and you’ve watched even the most uninteresting of what OnDemand has to offer (Check out the totally un-captivating ShalomTV).

Whatever shall you do to pass the time? Homework? That’s just silly talk. Prepare a nice family dinner before your parents return from work? Only if pop’s bringing home a sixer of your favorite beer.

Luckily, unfortunate soul, I’ve got you covered.

Listed below are five bands that, unless you are a musical whiz or a big nerd like me, you’ve never heard of. And if you have, then you don’t need my help to find some new, exciting music. Check out exactly one each day, beginning Monday, and by the time you’re listening to the last band on Friday, you'll be home free.

Monday — Kiev: This Orange County, California band is a perfect early-week pick-me-up. The percussion is propulsive, sending each post-rock shaker towards a satisfying end. Think Muse with less of an alternative rock feel, or Radiohead (The Bends-style) with a bit more of a punch, and you’ve got this co-ed crew’s sound.


Tuesday — Apes and Androids: Replace ‘apes’ with ‘funk’ and you’ve got this New York band down pat. Decidedly non-Daft Punk robotic-melodies ordering everyone to “Get f****d up” shoot like lasers over minimalist electro-funk beats. Find an astronaut suit, pop this band on at a costume party you throw at your house (you know at least mom and dad will show up!) and get ready to have a ball. It’s almost Wednesday. You’re going to make it.


Wednesday — Heartless Bastards: Alright, so the middle of the week doesn’t feel quite as close to the end as you thought. Fear not, for the slow-chugging guitar blues of the Heartless Bastards will turn those sad thoughts into, well, sadder thoughts. But the good, introspective-but-not-bitter type of sad. And better yet, this Cincinatti, lady-fronted grit-machine will play Pittsburgh next month with Gaslight Anthem, so you can relive the excitement that was your spring break once again!


Thursday — Vetiver: You made it over hump day and it’s time to celebrate the nearing end of your time at home. But we’re not talking a big champagne bash with the folks — the sunshine-drenched, upbeat, acoustic folk of Devendra Banhart compatriots Vetiver will suffice perfectly. Tunes like the lovely and sublime “Everyday” will remind you that there are greener pastures back at school. Greener pastures where you can get drunk when you want to get drunk, and you can dance through the streets freely instead of being confined to your hallways where you risk breaking mom’s piece of art she bought at a community crafts fair.


Friday — Dan Deacon: You’ve made it! Through trips to the mall with mom, ‘We’re proud of you’ moments with dad and more couch time than a coma patient, you’ve made it to the end of spring break. Congratulations, and some hot beats are in order. Blast some of Dan Deacon’s strobe-ready dance party jams and watch your folks freak out. Seriously, they’re having a seizure. Deacon jams will do that to the fragile and middle aged.


Well, there you go, homeward-bound students. I guarantee that the inclusion of these one-a-day bands will make your basement dwelling significantly less of a bummer.

I’ll see you next week, after I get my wicked, tropical tan.

Let's give Tinted Windows a fair shake, shall we?

If you have access to the internet (and by reading this, I can logically conclude that you do), then you probably heard the news last week about Tinted Windows, a new band.

That's right, just a new band.

Sure, I could mention that members of said new band include James Iha (from the Smashing Pumpkins), Ben E. Carlos (from Cheap Trick), Adam Schlesinger (from Fountains of Wayne) and Taylor Hanson (from, um, Hanson), but to do so would mean that if you decide to listen to said new band, you won't hear said new band, you'll hear (or attempt to hear) Smashing Pumpkins, Cheap Trick, Fountains of Wayne and Hanson.

You see, by knowing who the members of Tinted Windows are, it is goddamn impossible to view the band as the sum of its parts. The band's parts are simply too iconic in themselves to meld into the singular entity of a band. By doing that, we are robbed of ever even having the chance to like Tinted Windows, or, hell, even love Tinted Windows. And, as Taylor Hanson would say, where's the love? If you don't forget about the Windows' past, well then damn it, it's not enough.

So, though I realize that if you've read this far, I've already ruined your chances to hear Tinted Windows as Tinted Windows (blogs are so self-defeating), do me a favor and give the track "Kind of a Girl" a try right here:


Now let's compare notes.

None of the band member's original bands were exactly known for cutting edge or heady rock'n'roll, so I didn't expect to hear any in this clip. And I sure didn't.

But that ain't so bad. The song's catchy. Really, really catchy. It's sugar-sweet pop-rock with a killer chorus, a lot like - who woulda guessed! - a harder-edged Hanson or an exactly-the-same Cheap Trick.

And though I may be crucified by the indie police for ever saying this, I. Like. It.

I wouldn't pop it on a mix of the most meaningful songs I've ever heard ("She's a kind of a girl you can't get enough of" doesn't quite capture my heart), but it'll be great for parties full of drunken kids looking for something to pogo around a basement to.

So do me a favor, try to forget that the dudes in this band are also responsible for "MMMBop," "Bullet with Butterfly Wings," "Stacey's Mom" and "I Want You to Want Me." Give it a shot. Yes, you'll be embarrassed when you like it too, but it can be our little secret.

Does make you wonder, though. What do the other, less talented and less attractive Hanson brothers think of Taylor's new digs? That's gotta be awkward at the dinner table.

Shit, the indie police are banging in my front door. Gotta go.

Finally, Scientific Proof That Nickelback is for Dolts

That's right, folks.

It's been a long time coming — years spent arguing with sad, mulletted chaps named Buck or Earl, years of feeling like I waved the flag of Nickelback-suck-dom alone in a storm of shitty music — but finally, there is scientific proof to back up my claims.

Recently, a former computer hacker named Virgil Griffith compiled a comparison of college students' SAT scores versus favorite bands to find a correlation. He did so by amassing favorite bands on the Facebook accounts of students at various colleges, as well as the average SAT score at said college (Confused? Well, that's why he goes to CalTech.) And guess what? He found one!

You can check out the full and readable chart here.

Before you scoff at the notion that you, Nickelback (or Breaking Benjamin, or The Used. Ha!) lover may actually like your music because you are, in fact, dumber than most high school graduates, let me assure you that our fine Mr. Virgil Griffith is no pimpled-basement hacker.

The dude's been written up by The New York Times and - get this! - has his own Wikipedia page. And we all know that Wikipedia is today's measure of authenticity and worth.

Nonetheless, according to Griffith's findings, there is a strong correlation between preferred bands and SAT scores, and the results are staggering.

The artist who generated fans with the lowest SAT scores was, almost amazingly, Lil Wayne. Who would've thought that Weezy's often-loopy rhyme schemes would appeal most to morons — the average SAT score of a Lil Wayne devotee was in the 870's (Scores apply to old SAT format, with 1600 max score). Shoulda laid off the herb and opened a book.

Also in the low end were T.I, Beyonce and, laughably, the entire genre of Reggaeton.

Maybe my favorite low-ender is the genre of gospel. Paired with this scientific finding, really makes you think about the mental capacity of gospel-loving religious nuts. Jesus is great, sure, but totally digging music devoted to him means you probably wouldn't get into community college. That just may explain why the guys who hand you those pamphlets on the sidewalk don't ever seem to, well, have jobs.

Jam bands had a fantastic high showing, with both Phish and the Grateful Dead placing among the favorites of students with top-third SAT scores. So scratch the pot comment above. Shoulda laid off the syrup instead?

The highest-placing contemporary artist was Sufjan Stevens (no surprise there), and far and away the highest musician overall was Beethoven, a full 100 points above Stevens.

So what does it all mean? Well, it certainly doesn't mean that by listening to Beethoven you'll get smarter. If anything, it means that people who are already smart naturally flock to certain music, and people who are already dumb naturally do the same.

It's a scary thought. Especially if you're into Nickelback. But in that case, you were damned already.

Cursive: Cleverer than Radiohead?

Of all the bands out there, Cursive are among the least likely to be in it to make a buck.

Tim Kasher is the type of performer and lyricist that, especially when you see him perform live (check below for recent video), exudes the type of desperation that screams sincerity. As in, had he not the stage as an outlet to unleash the emotional hurricane that flows through his veins everyday, he damn well might explode.

That said, Cursive's done and pulled a Radiohead with its newest album, Mama I'm Swollen.

Well, not exactly.

While Radiohead gave fans the option of paying whatever they wanted for last year's In Rainbows, Cursive are a bit trickier. Starting today, you can buy the album for near nothing - a single dollar. For each day until the album's actual release, March 10, the price will increase by a dollar — meaning it'll then cost a still reasonable 10 bucks. They're actually pressing fans to pay less by, well, being good fans and grabbing the record as soon as possible.

Not only has the band stirred up a veritable shit ton of curiosity about the new record, but now Kasher and Company have gone and successfully created a buzz that'll push possible buyers to pick up the record as soon as possible. God forbid you download it tomorrow and pay two dollars. The ploy is a bit silly, sure, but it got me.

I made sure to download Swollen well before midnight. And having listened to it through no less than three times so far, I suggest you do the same.

This record is vintage Cursive: thrashy, screaming, intense and hard to swallow. Exactly as it should be.

If you're still not sold, check out "From the Hips," one of the records shiniest gems:

Ben Kweller's "On My Way"

I do love Pittsburgh, but sometimes, damn it, I hate the tools that give it a bad name.

Ben Kweller's Diesel show last night was filled with gorgeous country-pop ditties about how much he loves his wife Lizzy, lots of flannel and, unfortunately, lots of cat calls for Kweller to take off said flannel.

Maybe the most baffling comment of the night was, "Ben! You are a rock god! You and Ben Lee! And Youth Group!"

The above drunken asshat was likely naming all three musical acts that he knows, oddly enough including Australian Death Cab for Cutie copy Youth Group.

Kweller handled the heckling like a true Southern gent, but it was obvious that the Pittsburgh hospitality was grating on him.

Nonetheless, the show was stellar and everyone left feeling like they'd just sat around a campfire in July. Perfect.

Check out "On My Way," one of Kweller's most adorable songs. And I mean that sincerely. Dude's music just makes you want to cuddle.

Ben Kweller "On My Way," Club Diesel in Pittsburgh, 2/28/09 from Justin Jacobs on Vimeo.

Kweller's Country Tornado Hits Pittsburgh Tonight

Let’s get the obvious part out of the way first — Ben Kweller, the foppish, high-voiced singer-songwriter who’s been banging out garage rock since he was a preteen, just put out his first country record. As in, Texas-boy-showing-his-roots country.

But like the best folks in the genre, Kweller’s always been a storyteller. And though his latest record, Changing Horses, is more rodeo than rock ’n’ roll, the familiar playfulness and hard-to-hate sunshine songs fans have known for years make this Kweller’s best in years.

And yes, he knows it’s country.

“They did the same thing to Bob Dylan when he put out Nashville Skyline, and I even call that his country record. He’d probably say, ‘F**k you man,’ but we gotta label things because we got a language so we can explain things to people,” said Kweller from his home in Austin, Texas. “If you want to call it a country record, so be it, I don’t care. But it is just another Ben Kweller album.”

Good country music’s all about the story, and not surprisingly, Kweller’s Jewish, rock ’n’ roll, boy-wonder-in-the-South tale is among the best.

Now 27, Kweller wrote his first song when he was only 8 and “sounded like a little girl with a Southern accent.” Naturally, this didn’t sit well with the aspiring cowboy rocker.

“I was in fifth grade, and I made a cassette for my friend who was really into AC/DC. My two songs were country piano songs, and I gave him the tape. He came back the next day and said, ‘Man, you sing like a girl,’” said Kweller. “I was so devastated and bummed. So I tried to make my voice sound tougher. I didn’t want to sound like a p***y to my friend.”

His family had moved from California to Texas when he was a year old, making his eventual laid-back California sunshine-child attitude a bit of a surprise. Especially given that his childhood idols were Garth Brooks and Alan Jackson. But adolescence — and the early ’90s — threw him for a loop.

“This little band called Nirvana came out. I was at a skate park when I first heard ‘Smells Like Teen Spirit,’ and I literally pulled over and said, ‘What the f**k is this,’” said Kweller.

For one thing, it was inspiration. By the time he had his bar mitzvah, Kweller was putting out records in the band Radish, going on to play both David Letterman’s and Conan O’Brian’s shows and touring internationally.

And though he might not have sounded tougher on the CBS soundstage, a p***y he was not. Kweller was an indie rock hero in England before he could drive.

Alas, Radish spoiled by 1998 and Kweller was on his own — and better off for it. By 2002 he’d released his first solo record Sha Sha, an album that straddled rootsy indie rock and gut-punching brat-punk. And while Kweller’s country roots took a backseat, they were undeniably still there.

Now with Changing Horses, Kweller’s sixth solo record, Texas is back. But don’t expect a Garth Brooks hillbilly stomper. Horses is filled with gorgeous acoustic ballads (“Ballad of Wendy Baker”), plodding steel-guitar workouts (“On Her Own”) and catchy, sun-baked sing-alongs (well, every song).

“A lot of the songs have been written over the years,” said Kweller. “I’d write one and say, ‘God, I love this song, I want to make an album like this.’ There were certain songs I knew belonged on an album together with their cousins. And it just seemed like the right time to make this album.”

Before he’s even hit 30, Kweller has been making a living in music for more than half of his life. And with his first son Dorian (whose middle name Zev, matched with Kweller’s middle name Lev, translates in Hebrew to “Lion Heart”) and wife Lizzy by his side, Kweller shows no signs of slowing down.

“I’m not good at anything else. I knew that early on — thank God I got lucky and got a record deal when I was so young. But there’s other things I love — science, history, the outdoors, camping and fishing,” said Kweller.

“I always say if I was doin’ something else, I’d be a park ranger or a professional fisherman. But I’d probably get bored of that — I’m an artist first and foremost. Music is my thing.”

Rolling Stone's Five Star Rating More Than a Little Misleading

What makes a classic record classic?

According to Rolling Stone Magazine, the answer is a five-star rating. And going with that reasoning, two brand new albums have already achieved such status — U2’s No Line on the Horizon and Bruce Springsteen’s Working on a Dream.

Are both records good? Sure. Good. Springsteen’s Dream is certainly his most accomplished record in a handful of years — better than Magic, less adventurous than his Pete Seeger throwback We Shall Overcome — but it doesn’t rank with the record’s most would consider classics of the Boss. Mainly you’ve got the big three — The River, Darkness on the Edge of Town and a little record called Born to Run.

On the U2 front, many critics have called No Line on the Horizon the band’s best effort since the blockbuster-via-artistic-freakout Achtung Baby. But when you consider U2’s output between the two albums, the fact that this is the band’s best album in almost two decades doesn’t seem so drastic. 1997’s Pop? Almost laughable. All That You Can’t Leave Behind from 2000? Would’ve been considered an artistic highlight for, say, Matchbox Twenty, but as a U2 record it didn’t impress me.

So it’s safe to say that both the new Springsteen and U2 albums are certainly returns to form for the artists. But classics?

Rolling Stone’s rating system ranks albums as thus: one star is poor, ascending to four stars (excellent) and five stars (classic). That last word is printed in every issue of the magazine in the ranking descriptions, but very rarely seen actually assigned to an album. And that’s as it should be — any publication taking a critical approach to art should really think through its ratings so that to earn the highest score, said art has to be truly worth it.


But herein lies the problem of Rolling Stone’s stars — by calling five stars ‘classic,’ the magazine sets itself up for trouble. The commonly understood notion of a classic record would be one that has earned the classification through both quality and impact. In other words, Bob Dylan’s Blonde on Blonde is a classic record because it is truly amazing, but also because of its great impact on the entirety of popular music — the record is a milestone of rock and roll.


And the solution is utterly simple. A five star album should be saddled with a really enthusiastic adjective, but not classic. How about 'Fantastic.' Or even 'Holy-Shit-Good!' Anything but 'Classic,' because - guess what? - an album can't be a classic until time deems it so.

Turning back to Bruce and Bono, we’ve got a serious problem. Let’s ignore the question of either new record being actually great — that’s a reviewer’s job, and for the sake of this column, a reviewer I am not — and look at the implication of a classic.

It is simply impossible to comprehend the impact of either record because it hasn’t happened yet. They’re simply too new. Hell, U2’s Horizon has only been released on MySpace. The physical record won’t even hit the shelves until March 2. Rolling Stone’s David Fricke, who, don’t get me wrong, is one of the best rock critics since Lester Bangs, dropped the review on February 20 — almost two weeks before the world even had the chance to hear this supposed classic.

And this leads to the most important point — classics are decided by the fans (of music, not of a certain band) not critics. That is not to say that all classic records are huge sellers, though. Television sold a paltry number of its masterwork Marquee Moon, but the album’s huge impact on the burgeoning punk scene and its cache of devoted fans pushed it to classic status. Had only critics championed it, it would’ve been forgotten.

But for fans to attach themselves to a record or for that record’s impact on music to be even remotely calculated, one thing is crucial — time.

Marquee Moon wasn’t a classic when it came out in 1977, it was just a really great record.

And that’s what Horizon and Working on a Dream are. Really great records. But not classics. Not yet — and if you ask me, neither ever will be. The days of classic U2 and Springsteen both ended a long, long time ago, though this doesn’t negate that either still writes good, if not great music. Well, not U2. U2 stopped being even remotely awesome around 1992. But I digress.

Rolling Stone used to be criticized for bashing records that eventually became undeniable classics (ever heard of Led Zeppelin?). But today, the magazine’s been doing quite the opposite — hailing classic albums years before the word should even be uttered.

A five star rating is fine, but not when it implies a classic. Can’t it be called something else, like really, really, really, really, really good?

My Pre-teen Image of DMX=Awesome is Dead

One day when I was about 12, I decided that it was time I started listening to rap music. Knowing little about it at the time, I went to the local record shop and picked up what, in my mind, were two classics of the genre: DMX's It's Dark and Hell is Hot and Jay-Z's Vol. 2.

Jay was great ("Can I Get A.." is. fucking. awesome.) but what really grabbed me was DMX. Dude had a growl, a vicious, almost inhuman vocal delivery and drive that made this white, suburban Jewish boy nod with that-guy-is-badass admiration.

Then I grew up and realized that he kinda sucked.

While the first two DMX albums were absolute gems of second (or third?) wave gangster-aggression rap, DMX's subsequent output was simply regurgitated rants about how he was still street, and included more references to dogs, or, excuse me, dawgs, than anyone should ever utter in an entire lifespan.

All that said, it's safe to say the dream is gone: DMX is now officially lame as hell.

Just as it seemed D couldn't have gotten less awesome, he did. Check it out: not only is he currently in jail for felony charges of theft, drug possession and a misdemeanor charge of animal cruelty (hedging on badass, except for that last one), but today he threw a lunch tray at an officer after said officer told him he wasn't allowed to eat the meal he'd picked up in the dining room. Why? Because, due to another scrapple, DMX is on a bread and water diet and he wanted something a bit more substantial.

Fair enough, but throw a tray at a jail guard? What is this, kindergarten?

After years of hoping he'd return to greatness, I'm signing off.

Get at me no longer, dawg.

New Cursive Track is Unsettling in All the Right Ways

The day of judgment approaches, and today we got a punchy little taste of the apocalypse.

Omaha masters of torture Cursive, who'll release new album "Mama, I'm Swollen" on March 10, just leaked new track "I Couldn't Love You" to, of all places, Entertainment Weekly, one of the least credible magazines when it comes to good music.

But alas, the tune's out there for us cretins to enjoy. And enjoy we shall. "I Couldn't Love You" sees Cursive back in the sloppy-brilliance of pre-Domestica releases, where melody wasn't the focus, but rather power, passion and drunken, violent love rants. The recording seems purposefully murky, too - gone is the precision and sharpness of Happy Hollow. No complaints here, though that album did kill pretty substantially.

So, enough with the banter - I know what you want. The link to the tune is right.... here.

Listen once. Then another time. I swear it gets better and better.

And the tune is an indicator that Swollen could be Ugly Organ good. At least Tim Kasher said so - in more than one show, including the Columbus show last month reviewed below, he's said that the new songs are "Fucking brilliant." Cocky, sure. But with "I Couldn't Love You" he doesn't seem too crazy.

Review: Tapes 'n Tapes 'n a Half-Decent Show

Welp.

Just got home from Tapes 'n Tapes playing with Wild Light and locals Br'er Fox. Feelings: Mildly underwhelmed.

All the bands put on a solid show, sure, but nothing jumped out at me, nothing shook me, nothing moved me.

Now, to be fair, a good part of the mediocrity of the show had to do with the shitfaced Bro wearing a Richard Marx t-shirt (out of irony? Or does he really like Richard Marx? It's a toss up with this one) and attempted to start a mosh pit in the front left of the club. Only awkwardnes, lots of spilled beer ensued and general looks of "What a douche bag" ensued.

Wild Light played a solid if uninspired set, leading me to believe they are one of the few bands that may actually be better on record. Theirs, Adult Nights, is really stellar power-pop in the vein of an artier Weezer. The show, not so much.

Tapes 'n Tapes certainly picked up the groove quickly and the band's bass-centric sound resonated well in Brillobox's tight quarters. There was nothing particularly off about Tapes, but there wasn't the electric current in the crowd that a great show can create.

Check out "Just Drums," from Tapes 'n Tapes first record The Loon. Sound is good, video not so much. Enjoy!

Interview: Wild Light's Seth Pitman hits Pittsburgh with Tapes 'n Tapes

It takes some guts for a band to start the first song on its first record with “Fuck today/ fuck San Francisco/ fuck California,” but when the music is as good as Wild Light’s, the lyrics could damn Pittsburgh and I’d still listen up.

New Hampshire natives Wild Light’s debut record Adult Nights mixes plaintive vocals with jangling guitars and more solid hooks than a boxing match for a classic rock-leaning indie-pop sound. The band hits Brillobox this Sunday with blog darlings (Jesus Christ. Let’s use a less mind-numbingly overused phrase. How about ‘rock band’?) Tapes ‘n Tapes and local blues blasters Br’er Fox (Don’t ever doubt there is serious talent in this city).

I spoke to bassist Seth Pitman while he was busy working the front desk in a New Hampshire hospital (that his mom, the hospital president set him up with - recession be damned) between legs of the tour. Clearly building up some cash before hitting the second leg of the tour while staying at home and eating well-deserved home cooking.

Gravity Rides Everything: Adult Nights starts with some harsh words against California. Where’d the song “California on my Mind” come from?

Seth Pitman: Our lyricist Jordan (Alexander) wrote that song living in the Bay Area trying to start a band, and he was just frustrated. It’s nothing against California, it’s just a venting song. But it has somehow attracted people way more than ever expected.

GRE: Was there much of a scene growing up in New Hampshire?

SP: Well…no. In terms of a real music scene there was not and there is not. But there was
Well…no. In terms of a real music scene there was not and there is not. But there was a do-it-yourself scene and a few clubs that we used to play in — a bunch of basements were turned into clubs.

GRE: The band formed in 2005, but you were friends before then. How does that affect the band’s dynamic?

SP: Knowing each other as long as we have, there’s nothing that doesn’t get touched on. There’s no way for us to keep anything from each other. Having had this long history has made it a learning process in how not to invade each other’s spaces or lives. So when we make decisions, there’s baggage — it’s a complicated dynamic that has to be maneuvered to find a place where we can all work together productively.

GRE: The record sounds truly timeless. What were you listening to when recording?

SP: We have a lot of standbys. We’re always returning to the classics — Dylan, the Beatles, The Clash, Fleetwood Mac. The kind of stuff that never gets old. When you first hear it, it’s the best thing you’ve ever heard. And the most recent time you heard it you feel the same way. That’s what we aspire to.

GRE: You’ve toured with some big name bands (including Arcade Fire, The Stills and LCD Soundsystem). What would be your dream show lineup?

SP: Let’s see. The Clash circa 1980, Bob Dylan and Rolling Thunder Review circa 1976. (Pauses to think. Ponders Elvis and Johnny Cash). And Nirvana. Definitely Nirvana.

Say it with me now: "Fuck California." Here's "California on my Mind."

Black Moth Super Rainbow/School of Seven Bells announce super tour

Summer's way off, but it's not too soon to start planning which nights to take a psychedelic magic carpet ride. And if you live near any of the cities listed below, that decision's already been made for you.

Pittsburgh champion freaks Black Moth Super Rainbow just announced a co-headlining tour with fellow space cadets School of Seven Bells, making one of the longest marquees I can ever remember, but also one of the better-matched tours of late.

Black Moth's bubbling, trip-hop organ workouts couldn't go better than with Seven Bell's, um, bubbling, trip-hop organ workouts. The difference is in the important details, though — the former is certainly a good bit further out of the box than the latter's mix of lovely melodies and shape-shifting beats.

Nonetheless, the duo seems made for each other. Someone should've thought this up months ago.

Here are those dates:
Wed. May 20 - Chicago, IL @ Bottom Lounge
Thu. May 21 - Madison, WI @ High Noon Saloon
Fri. May 22 - Minneapolis, MN @ Triple Rock Social Club
Mon. May 25 - Quincy, WA @ Sasquatch Festival
Tue. May 26 - Portland, OR @ Holocene
Thu. May 28 - San Francisco, CA @ Bottom of the Hill
Fri. May 29 - Los Angeles, CA @ Troubadour
Sat. May 30 - Costa Mesa, CA @ Detroit Bar
Sun. May 31 - Phoenix, AZ @ Rhythm Room
Tue. Jun. 2 - Austin, TX @ The Mohawk
Wed. Jun. 3 - Denton, TX @ Hailey's
Thu. Jun. 4 - Little Rock, AR @ Sticky Fingerz
Fri. Jun. 5 - Nashville, TN @ Exit/In
Sat. Jun. 6 - Columbus, OH @ Circus

See anything missing? I do. That city Black Moth Super Rainbow is from isn't on the map here. Ouch, Tobacco, ouch.

Check BMSR's "Sun Lips"


Photo courtesy Sarah Cass/Pitch Perfect PR

Review: Delta Spirit, Other Lives raise the dead

Photo: Taylor Goldsmith of Dawes joins Delta Spirit onstage.

Tuesday is easily the worst day of the week.

With no weekend afterglow (Monday), no light-at-the-end-of-the-tunnel (Wednesday) and certainly not the weekend (Thursday-Sunday), Tuesday is left alone in the week, sad and pathetic.

Thanks to tonight’s Brillobox triple bill of Delta Spirit, Other Lives and Dawes, though, Tuesday got a huge boost this week.

Dawes’ harmonized and rolling heartbreak folk got the quiet, stiff crowd at least a little warmer, but the haunted classic rock meditations of Other Lives (think a prettier Shearwater) actually got some feet moving, even if ever so slightly.

What separates Other Lives from the near-countless other mope-Americana bands touring in plaid shirts and serious faces (see: Lucero, Evangelicals) is the radiant Jenny Hsu, who, sitting unassumingly at the corner of the stage, grounded each song with her slow rumbling cello. Though the instrument never took center stage (see: Cursive’s The Ugly Organ) it provided a beautiful, lush backdrop for singer Jesse Tabish’s light, hollow voice to waltz through the band’s subtly disarming melodies.


Photo: Other Lives' Jesse Tabish

Other Lives proved a perfect match for the other side of the mope-Americana coin — headliners Delta Spirit took the stage after a 20 minutes respite to the welcoming applause of all 50 or so people who, like me, decided that it was time for a more lively Tuesday.

Like a less swamp rock, more soulful Creedence Clearwater Revival, Delta Spirit chugged through its hour-plus set with bottled energy always on the edge of bursting.

Singer Matt Vasquez, his jeans rolled into black workman boots, stayed closer to the edge than anyone — the short, baby-faced front man with lost eyes has such a strong conviction to dragging his voice through gravel on long notes and wading through each song’s slow melody that it’s hard not to believe his pained-heart songwriter aesthetic.

Particularly convincing was the bitter slow dance “House Built for Two,” with it’s chorus, “Well it’s true, I built this for you. This house built for two, it’s too small for you,” paired with Vasquez’s slight signs of self-assurance — after lines well-sung, he’ll often nod to himself, to the audience, to the music, his eyes closed and fingers tightened — made the torture and piano-sprinkled ballad sound like it could’ve been about murder.


Photo: Matt Vasquez of Delta Spirit

Vasquez’ inner monologue has a two-fold effect. First, it lets the audience know that he’s real — not one note over-rehearsed and no reaction fully expected, I got the impression that Vasquez was as effected by the sounds created by his band as the audience. Maybe more.

Second, or rather an extension of the first point, Vasquez’ impassioned performance through the entire set gave a truth to the show that few bands achieve. The guy could’ve been singing about a penchant for mail order brides and I would’ve thought his was a noble cause.

Delta Spirit’s dual guitar and often three drum (along with drummer Brandon Young, guitarist Sean Walker and pianist Kelly Winrich took turns pounding — the heavier tunes saw all three attack at once) thunder paired gorgeously with Vasquez’ post-punk-with-some-pain vocals.

The music of a track like “Children,” with a churning percussion section and an almost-playful melody (note: almost), molded beautifully into one heavy wall of twanging rock and reverb.

The stuttering stomp of “People C’Mon” swung with the drunken energy of a bar fight and the piano-shuffling “Trashcan” could’ve been the best song Dr. Dog never recorded.

But the selling point of Delta Spirit, at least in a live setting, will always be Vasquez. By the end of the 15-song set, with the gang chorus of “Crippler King” pushing the band to yell at the audience and the audience to yell back, Vasquez might as well have been an old man drained of prayer in church — who was just touched by the spirit.

Photos courtesy Mahsa Borhani. Check her out here.

All Good Festival announces initial line-up

For a seriously organic, music-focused, no-bullshit festival this summer, you're not going to find one better than West Virginia's All Good.

Last year's three day extravaganza kept me awake for damn near, well, three days and featured some truly incredible sets from Widespread Panic, Bassnectar, Gov't Mule, Dark Star Orchestra and tons of other jammy favorites.

Here's the initial line-up of the 2009 romp, July 10-12 at Marvin's Mountaintop in Masontown West Virginia. Per usual, in bold are the acts that I'll be holding my breath for:


Ben Harper and Relentless7
Bob Weir & RatDog
moe.
STS9 (Sound Tribe Sector 9)
Les Claypool
Yonder Mountain String Band
Tea Leaf Green
Buckethead
SOJA
Bassnectar
Steve Kimock Crazy Engine
The New Mastersounds
Donna the Buffalo
Ivan Neville's Dumpstaphunk
Todd Snider
Cornmeal
Trombone Shorty & Orleans Ave
Fear Nuttin' Band

There's sure to be a ton more wonderful bands announced, so keep posted.

Also, tickets went onsale TODAY — if you pick 'em up now, they're only $109. No joke. That'd pay for, like, five hours at Bonnaroo, right?