New feature this time around. Check out the link for a LG&M first, a playlist highlighting choice cuts from this week's Goings On giggers. Safe listening.
Goings On the Go Playlist - July 20, 2009
Monday, July 20
You Can Be a Wesley, Casper & the Cookies, Everything, Now!, Magic Magic - The Middle East Club, Upstairs, Cambridge ??? $8
Its a damn fine night of psych-swirl pop at the Mid East upstairs Monday Night. Consider it an extension of the weekend's "Loose Psych" fest at Church except with more melody and less stoner rock. A lot less stoner rock. Boston popsters You Can Be a Wesley headline with what I'm sure will be an exciting set, but I recommend arriving early to check out-of-towners Casper & the Cookies (continuing the Athens, Georgia tradition) and fellow road haulerrs and superfluous punctuators Everything, Now!. Remember kiddos, these guys are out of towners, so try and show them that Boston doesn't deserve its chilly rep, eh?
Thursday, July 23
Verb the Adjective Noun, Nini and Ben, Margaret Glaspy Band - Church, Fenway 8:00pm $8, 21+
Verb the Adjective Noun is all over Boston for the next two weeks, and I recommend getting on them early. Alt-folk shuffles up against expansive pop latticework - sing-a-long choruses a guarantee. Early Flaming Lips by way of My Morning Jacket? Get ready to act like you knew them when.
Saturday, July 25th
Thick Shakes, KC Quilty, Team Teamwork, Fortran - P.A.'s Lounge, Somerville 8:30pm $8 (21+) /$11 (18-21)
Three great bands and some guys I've never head of. It will be great. I promise. I've rambled on Thick Shakes before, and KC Quilty is sure to bring the mid-nineties indie vibe like no other, but the secret is to get there bright and prompt for Fortran - the best, brightest, and loudest thing to come out of MIT since *insert geek joke.*
Sunday, July 19, 2009
Thursday, July 10, 2008
Goings On: July 11th - July 17th
Faithful readers, it is a good week to be in Boston. Or maybe its just a good week to be P.A.'s Lounge.
Saturday, July 12th
Tunnel of Love, The Specific Heats, MMOSS, The Needy Visions - P.A.'s Lounge, Somerville 8:30pm $8
Its been a long time since I've seen a lineup this good, made all the more impressive given that I'd never heard of any of these bands before reading about this show. The Needy Visions lay out propulsive slabs of garage pop while MMOSS delivers Syd Barrett jamming with Roky Erikson levels of pure psych pop goodness. The Specific Heats remind us all why cathedrals full of reverb should never have gone out of style and Tunnel of Love will be bringing enough shirtless rock 'n' roll hedonism to make Iggy Pop pine for his glory days. This show will have something for everyone, and a lot for the adventurous listener.
Sunday, July 13th
The Shuttlecocks, The Side Projects, Female Trouble, The Have Mercys - The Brocery Store, Allston 8:00pm $???
I don't know where the Brocery Store is, and I'm pretty sure its just somebody's basement, but its been a long time since I've gone to a punk show and I feel like its time for me to celebrate my roots with a good old fashioned basement show. I feel like if I ask around I should be able to find it. Dispatches from the underground to follow. Punks play basement boffo!
Tuesday, July 15th
Bryan Pero & The Tired Horses - Plough and Stars, Cambridge 10:00pm $??? (less than six dollars)
I have espoused on the values of Bryan Pero & the Tired Horses before, and you all best get ready for me to do it again. Country rock and brilliant songwriting, what more do you need? Is it liquor? Because they have liquor at the Plough and Stars. There, now you have no excuse for not turning out.
Wednesday, July 16th
The Wrong Reasons, Fortran, Sodafrog - P.A.'s Lounge, Somerville 8:30pm $7
If Walt Whitman was a rocker, he would have been a roadie for the Wrong Reasons. All snarl and forward momentum, the Wrong Reasons are blowing through town to spice up your Wednesday night along with the methodical fuzz pop of Fortran and the solo acoustic witchcraft of Sodafrog.
Thursday, July 17th
Perennials, The Have Mercys, Thick Shakes - P.A.'s Lounge, Somerville 8:30pm $7
That's right, I'm recommending the Have Mercys twice in one week. These boys and girls sure how know how to get around. I'm pretty sure that Thick Shakes were genetically constructed to answer my prayers. Just as I was sitting around saying to myself, "Where are all my maximum R&B mods? Where are my Who fans and Sonics disciples?" Well here come Thick Shakes ready to rock your skinny suit into 4/4 frenzy. Perennials preside over the gig as part of their month long Thursday night P.A.'s Lounge residency.
Saturday, July 12th
Tunnel of Love, The Specific Heats, MMOSS, The Needy Visions - P.A.'s Lounge, Somerville 8:30pm $8
Its been a long time since I've seen a lineup this good, made all the more impressive given that I'd never heard of any of these bands before reading about this show. The Needy Visions lay out propulsive slabs of garage pop while MMOSS delivers Syd Barrett jamming with Roky Erikson levels of pure psych pop goodness. The Specific Heats remind us all why cathedrals full of reverb should never have gone out of style and Tunnel of Love will be bringing enough shirtless rock 'n' roll hedonism to make Iggy Pop pine for his glory days. This show will have something for everyone, and a lot for the adventurous listener.
Sunday, July 13th
The Shuttlecocks, The Side Projects, Female Trouble, The Have Mercys - The Brocery Store, Allston 8:00pm $???
I don't know where the Brocery Store is, and I'm pretty sure its just somebody's basement, but its been a long time since I've gone to a punk show and I feel like its time for me to celebrate my roots with a good old fashioned basement show. I feel like if I ask around I should be able to find it. Dispatches from the underground to follow. Punks play basement boffo!
Tuesday, July 15th
Bryan Pero & The Tired Horses - Plough and Stars, Cambridge 10:00pm $??? (less than six dollars)
I have espoused on the values of Bryan Pero & the Tired Horses before, and you all best get ready for me to do it again. Country rock and brilliant songwriting, what more do you need? Is it liquor? Because they have liquor at the Plough and Stars. There, now you have no excuse for not turning out.
Wednesday, July 16th
The Wrong Reasons, Fortran, Sodafrog - P.A.'s Lounge, Somerville 8:30pm $7
If Walt Whitman was a rocker, he would have been a roadie for the Wrong Reasons. All snarl and forward momentum, the Wrong Reasons are blowing through town to spice up your Wednesday night along with the methodical fuzz pop of Fortran and the solo acoustic witchcraft of Sodafrog.
Thursday, July 17th
Perennials, The Have Mercys, Thick Shakes - P.A.'s Lounge, Somerville 8:30pm $7
That's right, I'm recommending the Have Mercys twice in one week. These boys and girls sure how know how to get around. I'm pretty sure that Thick Shakes were genetically constructed to answer my prayers. Just as I was sitting around saying to myself, "Where are all my maximum R&B mods? Where are my Who fans and Sonics disciples?" Well here come Thick Shakes ready to rock your skinny suit into 4/4 frenzy. Perennials preside over the gig as part of their month long Thursday night P.A.'s Lounge residency.
Monday, July 7, 2008
Back From Sabatical
So it is when you are a solo outfit, when you take a break the blog takes a break as well.
After a relaxing week and a half off and the enjoyable holiday weekend I'm back in the swing of things. Tonight will take me over to T.T. the Bear's to see the Bynars rock the joint. Thursday will have Ho-Ag at Great Scott and Tuesday I'll be heading up to P.A.'s Lounge to check out Sick Room.
No word yet on what the weekend will bring, but I'm sure there'll be enough to keep you flooded in Live Notes.
After a relaxing week and a half off and the enjoyable holiday weekend I'm back in the swing of things. Tonight will take me over to T.T. the Bear's to see the Bynars rock the joint. Thursday will have Ho-Ag at Great Scott and Tuesday I'll be heading up to P.A.'s Lounge to check out Sick Room.
No word yet on what the weekend will bring, but I'm sure there'll be enough to keep you flooded in Live Notes.
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
The End of Days: Notes on the Alleged "Chinese Democracy"
I would like to go on record as saying that I fully support Axl Rose in his decision to sic the FBI onto the website that streamed 9 songs last week alleged to be from the long-since anticipated album Chinese Democracy. When I first streamed the songs last week, I said to myself, "Fuck you, Mr. Rose. I listened to the tracks when they were up last week, and finished or not they suck. They suck something fierce. The titular track of what is undoubtedly the most needlessly delayed album in the history of albums or delay sounds like the Scorpions with Billy Corgan producing circa 2000's over-compressed disaster Machina.
"But allow me to acknowledge, Mr. Rose, that I've never liked you. I've never seen how you were able to captivate the public's eye for even an instant. Perhaps I'm too young. My first memory of Nirvana is listening to the Unplugged CD a full two years after Kurt kicked it, so maybe I just had to be there for it. Or maybe, just maybe Guns 'n' Roses actually rocked back then, and the only difference now is that the whole fucking band is gone. Izzy? Gone. Duff? Gone. Slash? Fucking gone. His highest point in the last ten years was playing himself on Kid Notorious! Not only is Steven Adler long gone, but you even booted the guy who replaced him! You even fired the guy that you brought into the band for keyboards on the bloated and horrible Use Your Illusion!. That's cold."
The album was in fact so bad that I began to distress. I was never even a minor fan of Guns 'n' Roses and I was having damn near a panic attack over the thought that a band could sink so low, even after 14 years and a complete band overhaul. But then, around 3:30 in the morning, I had an epiphany. I realized that there had to be some kind of logical explanation. I felt my chest relax, and I drifted off to sleep wrapped in the comfort of what must have really happened.
Someone is pulling a cruel joke on us all. Someone stripped the amazing songs that we've been waiting for these last 14 years of everything but Mr. Rose's vocals and streamed nine files of him singing over elevator music. What made Guns 'n' Roses bitching back in the day was the band. Slash and Izzy's guitar, Duff's bass, and Adler's drums. And I'm sure that Mr. Rose would not be continuing under the banner of G'n'R unless the new band members are even better then the ones they replaced. But what some unethical miscreant seems to have done is to replace a great band with a bunch of untalented sycophants who don't know how to say no to an overblown ego and has released an album hell-bent on dragging down the good name and standing of the musicians fortunate enough to be thrown into the ocean minutes before the ship hit a god damn iceberg.
That this so-called album was unleashed upon the public under the G'n'R moniker is outrageous. I'm not even a fan of the band and I'm infuriated. I'm disgusted that musicians like Slash (who is still, without doubt one of the best guitarists at work today) are going to be associated even fleetingly with this sonic monstrosity. Shame on that miscreant. Mr. Rose I fully support you in your decision to employ the FBI in finding the real killers.
"But allow me to acknowledge, Mr. Rose, that I've never liked you. I've never seen how you were able to captivate the public's eye for even an instant. Perhaps I'm too young. My first memory of Nirvana is listening to the Unplugged CD a full two years after Kurt kicked it, so maybe I just had to be there for it. Or maybe, just maybe Guns 'n' Roses actually rocked back then, and the only difference now is that the whole fucking band is gone. Izzy? Gone. Duff? Gone. Slash? Fucking gone. His highest point in the last ten years was playing himself on Kid Notorious! Not only is Steven Adler long gone, but you even booted the guy who replaced him! You even fired the guy that you brought into the band for keyboards on the bloated and horrible Use Your Illusion!. That's cold."
The album was in fact so bad that I began to distress. I was never even a minor fan of Guns 'n' Roses and I was having damn near a panic attack over the thought that a band could sink so low, even after 14 years and a complete band overhaul. But then, around 3:30 in the morning, I had an epiphany. I realized that there had to be some kind of logical explanation. I felt my chest relax, and I drifted off to sleep wrapped in the comfort of what must have really happened.
Someone is pulling a cruel joke on us all. Someone stripped the amazing songs that we've been waiting for these last 14 years of everything but Mr. Rose's vocals and streamed nine files of him singing over elevator music. What made Guns 'n' Roses bitching back in the day was the band. Slash and Izzy's guitar, Duff's bass, and Adler's drums. And I'm sure that Mr. Rose would not be continuing under the banner of G'n'R unless the new band members are even better then the ones they replaced. But what some unethical miscreant seems to have done is to replace a great band with a bunch of untalented sycophants who don't know how to say no to an overblown ego and has released an album hell-bent on dragging down the good name and standing of the musicians fortunate enough to be thrown into the ocean minutes before the ship hit a god damn iceberg.
That this so-called album was unleashed upon the public under the G'n'R moniker is outrageous. I'm not even a fan of the band and I'm infuriated. I'm disgusted that musicians like Slash (who is still, without doubt one of the best guitarists at work today) are going to be associated even fleetingly with this sonic monstrosity. Shame on that miscreant. Mr. Rose I fully support you in your decision to employ the FBI in finding the real killers.
Saturday, June 21, 2008
Live Notes: Amanda Palmer & The Boston Pops at Symphony Hall - 6/20/08
When an artist like Amanda Palmer hits a venue like Symphony Hall, I find one distinct advantage not available at your typical rock venue. With a slowly turned head and a single cocked eyebrow I can get those around me to shut their flaps and knock off their damn carrying on. However the advantages of the space were not mine alone. Miss Palmer made ready use of the space from the instant of her entrance, pursued about the floor and the stage in her can-can dress by a few members of the orchestra while a trombonist serenaded her from the first balcony. The number was a spirited bit of theatre, a playful instance of the burlesque Miss Palmer and drummer Brian Viglione are so fond of exploring through the Dresden Dolls. The sultry elaboration of the child's rhyme "missed me, missed me, now you've gotta kiss me" was followed by a slower piano driven piece given a satisfying fullness by the Pops.
The evening maintained this sort of ambivalence throughout with Miss Palmer giving the audience a lively playful tune for every one or two slower more somber numbers including a number of cuts from her forthcoming solo debut and a cover of 'Brick' by her album's producer, Ben Folds. The Dolls favorite "Coin Operated Boy" reared its mechanized head and gave Miss Palmer a chance to work Pops conductor Keith Lockhart into the act, trading places with him in the midst of the instrumental section and engaging in a musical game of flinch while Lockhart tried to match the orchestra with Miss Palmer's staggered staccato vocals at the end of the song's bridge. Like so much of the show it lacked the sort of organic spontaneity demanded of a show at the Middle East, but from the venue to the costumed extras it was clear that the evening was not a concert, it was a show.
I've been to several similar events in the past where an institution of cultural standing on par with Symphony Hall brings in an artist like Amanda Palmer, someone who has a devoted following of rabid fans and a series of well earned reviews but who the average cultural devotee on the street probably hasn't heard of (e.g. The Mountain Goats at the MFA, Sufjan Stevens with members of the National Symphony Orchestra at the Kennedy Center in Washington D.C.). These shows have been unique and memorable of course, but at the end of the day they were failures to no small degree. Although I can tell you with exacting detail about how I nearly died waiting for those Sufjan tickets, the show itself was not all that different from the last Sufjan show I'd seen. I saw John Darnielle at the MFA on a Friday and at the Middle East the next night, and other than a few small differences (Saturday at midnight marked Darnielle's birthday, the crowd talked less at the MFA, and he encored Saturday night "Best Ever Death Metal Band out of Denton") the shows were virtually indistinguishable. Although the venue's intention is to draw a younger audience to its standard board of fare and to show its regular patrons that its can be down with the young folks when it wants to be everyone seems to walk away disappointed; the artist's devotees walk away with just another show and the high brow regulars sit grim faced through a set that they have no worldly interest in seeing.
Miss Palmer and the Pops succeeded where these other collaborations have fallen through in stunning fashion, and Friday's performance will be the benchmark by which I gauge all similar events. The Pops served as the opening act for the evening, gliding through four movements of Gustav Holst The Planets suite. The brief opening set by the Pops served to put regulars at ease while at the same time conveying to the newcomers that the evening would not be about Miss Palmer alone, but rather about the coming together of two artists for a singularly stunning evening. It also didn't hurt that The Planets is a work familiar to the younger set (both the first movement "Mars" and the fourth movement "Jupiter" have been featured in recent "Venture Brothers" episodes).
However the most memorable moment of the night, for me at lest, was when Palmer settled into the opening measures of Beethoven's Pathetique sonata, and as Beethoven's melody spilled out over the crowd someone's cell phone rang. Ever the showman, Miss Palmer whipped her head around and glared, spoke her peace and resettled into the Pathetique. As classical fans leaned forward in silence between the notes, anticipating the intricate 27-note run in the fourth measure, and as newcomers wondered where exactly this classical noodling was going, Palmer launched into the toy-piano introduction to "Coin-Operated Boy" and both sides of the crowd laughed at her wonderfully performed bit of comedy.
The evening maintained this sort of ambivalence throughout with Miss Palmer giving the audience a lively playful tune for every one or two slower more somber numbers including a number of cuts from her forthcoming solo debut and a cover of 'Brick' by her album's producer, Ben Folds. The Dolls favorite "Coin Operated Boy" reared its mechanized head and gave Miss Palmer a chance to work Pops conductor Keith Lockhart into the act, trading places with him in the midst of the instrumental section and engaging in a musical game of flinch while Lockhart tried to match the orchestra with Miss Palmer's staggered staccato vocals at the end of the song's bridge. Like so much of the show it lacked the sort of organic spontaneity demanded of a show at the Middle East, but from the venue to the costumed extras it was clear that the evening was not a concert, it was a show.
I've been to several similar events in the past where an institution of cultural standing on par with Symphony Hall brings in an artist like Amanda Palmer, someone who has a devoted following of rabid fans and a series of well earned reviews but who the average cultural devotee on the street probably hasn't heard of (e.g. The Mountain Goats at the MFA, Sufjan Stevens with members of the National Symphony Orchestra at the Kennedy Center in Washington D.C.). These shows have been unique and memorable of course, but at the end of the day they were failures to no small degree. Although I can tell you with exacting detail about how I nearly died waiting for those Sufjan tickets, the show itself was not all that different from the last Sufjan show I'd seen. I saw John Darnielle at the MFA on a Friday and at the Middle East the next night, and other than a few small differences (Saturday at midnight marked Darnielle's birthday, the crowd talked less at the MFA, and he encored Saturday night "Best Ever Death Metal Band out of Denton") the shows were virtually indistinguishable. Although the venue's intention is to draw a younger audience to its standard board of fare and to show its regular patrons that its can be down with the young folks when it wants to be everyone seems to walk away disappointed; the artist's devotees walk away with just another show and the high brow regulars sit grim faced through a set that they have no worldly interest in seeing.
Miss Palmer and the Pops succeeded where these other collaborations have fallen through in stunning fashion, and Friday's performance will be the benchmark by which I gauge all similar events. The Pops served as the opening act for the evening, gliding through four movements of Gustav Holst The Planets suite. The brief opening set by the Pops served to put regulars at ease while at the same time conveying to the newcomers that the evening would not be about Miss Palmer alone, but rather about the coming together of two artists for a singularly stunning evening. It also didn't hurt that The Planets is a work familiar to the younger set (both the first movement "Mars" and the fourth movement "Jupiter" have been featured in recent "Venture Brothers" episodes).
However the most memorable moment of the night, for me at lest, was when Palmer settled into the opening measures of Beethoven's Pathetique sonata, and as Beethoven's melody spilled out over the crowd someone's cell phone rang. Ever the showman, Miss Palmer whipped her head around and glared, spoke her peace and resettled into the Pathetique. As classical fans leaned forward in silence between the notes, anticipating the intricate 27-note run in the fourth measure, and as newcomers wondered where exactly this classical noodling was going, Palmer launched into the toy-piano introduction to "Coin-Operated Boy" and both sides of the crowd laughed at her wonderfully performed bit of comedy.
Sunday, June 15, 2008
Goings On: June 16 - June 22
Tuesday, June 17th
Streight Angular and Beasts of England - Abbey Lounge, Cambridge: $7 9:00pm
Streight Angular bring the buzzbomb to Boston tonight at the Abbey Lounge, but be sure to stick around for Beasts of England and their garage-blues holler and shout.
Wednesday, June 18th
Sloan and The Golden Dogs - T.T. the Bear's, Cambridge: $15 9:40pm
Sloan is frequently written about as the best Canadian band you've never heard, which means you're more familiar with them as that band you keep meaning to check out but haven't made the time for yet. Stop making excuses and get your lazy self over to T.T.'s. Fellow Canadian rockers The Golden Dogs open.
Thursday, June 19th
Dirty Gospel and Dark Martini and the Dirty Olives - Abbey Lounge, Cambridge: $8 9:00pm
Back to Abbey Lounge Thursday night for more raucous guitar stomp served up by Dirty Gospel and Dark Martini. Anyone who leaves a pun in the comment section will be shot.
Friday, June 20th
Shearwater, Frog Eyes, Evangelicals, and Carter Tanton of Tulsa - T.T. the Bear's, Cambridge: $12 9:00pm
Frog Eyes are bringing their rampaging keyboard-propelled insanity to Cambridge and you should be there. Veering between the sounds of vintage Bowie and broken down music boxes, Frog Eyes are a truly unique experience that you shouldn't pass up. Support is lent by Oklahoma popsters Evangelicals and Carter Tanton of local hipsters TULSA.
Saturday, June 21st
Ketman and Ho-Ag - Upstairs at the Middle East, Cambridge: $9 9:00pm
Ketman and Ho-Ag bring fractured guitars and catchy melodies to the Middle East upstairs.
Streight Angular and Beasts of England - Abbey Lounge, Cambridge: $7 9:00pm
Streight Angular bring the buzzbomb to Boston tonight at the Abbey Lounge, but be sure to stick around for Beasts of England and their garage-blues holler and shout.
Wednesday, June 18th
Sloan and The Golden Dogs - T.T. the Bear's, Cambridge: $15 9:40pm
Sloan is frequently written about as the best Canadian band you've never heard, which means you're more familiar with them as that band you keep meaning to check out but haven't made the time for yet. Stop making excuses and get your lazy self over to T.T.'s. Fellow Canadian rockers The Golden Dogs open.
Thursday, June 19th
Dirty Gospel and Dark Martini and the Dirty Olives - Abbey Lounge, Cambridge: $8 9:00pm
Back to Abbey Lounge Thursday night for more raucous guitar stomp served up by Dirty Gospel and Dark Martini. Anyone who leaves a pun in the comment section will be shot.
Friday, June 20th
Shearwater, Frog Eyes, Evangelicals, and Carter Tanton of Tulsa - T.T. the Bear's, Cambridge: $12 9:00pm
Frog Eyes are bringing their rampaging keyboard-propelled insanity to Cambridge and you should be there. Veering between the sounds of vintage Bowie and broken down music boxes, Frog Eyes are a truly unique experience that you shouldn't pass up. Support is lent by Oklahoma popsters Evangelicals and Carter Tanton of local hipsters TULSA.
Saturday, June 21st
Ketman and Ho-Ag - Upstairs at the Middle East, Cambridge: $9 9:00pm
Ketman and Ho-Ag bring fractured guitars and catchy melodies to the Middle East upstairs.
Friday, June 13, 2008
Live Notes: Bryan Pero & the Tired Horses at Tommy Doyle's (Harvard Square) - 6/12/08
Volume is the great equalizer. Any drunk with the irrepressible urge to make the inner workings of his beer-addled frontal lobes known to the world can always be dealt with by turning to the band and repeating Dylan's immortal rallying cry, "Play fucking loud!" The timeless battle of artistry and idiocy was played out again last night, this time at Tommy Doyle's in Harvard (a shit stain of a building that will, if there is a just and merciful God, someday soon rend itself in twain and sink into the tran like the House of Usher).
On stage the remarkable Bryan Pero and the Tired Horses played the living hell out of some of the finest roots music to grace the Northeast corridor since Dylan and the Hawks hunkered down in a Catskills basement 40 years ago. Meanwhile, on the ground a legion of spastic flesh puppets bedecked in "Tommy Doyle's Kickball League" t-shirts stumbled and wallowed amidst puddles of plastic bottle Budweiser and hung their eyes on the Celtics/Lakers game with a fervor usually reserved for displays of religious devotion. A lesser band would have grown dispirited after about the first half hour of bleach blonde inebriates screaming out for Journey covers, but Pero and the Horses took it in remarkable stride, playing with the exuberance of a band that new they had no one to impress and nothing to lose by playing for nobody's sake but their own.
Opening with the rollicking "Light of the Radio" the band was in top form from the start. Anchored by Pero's acoustic guitar and Karen Sarkisian's bass, the rest of the group was free to play off of each other and provide the supple flourishes and expressive arrangements that transmute Pero's songs from solid clay vessels of love and whiskey into gilded chalices of long drives and open highways. Pero's barroom vignettes are lent a beautiful sepia hue by Keith Dominque's fluid piano and the powerful additions of newcomers to the band Matt Belyea, getting an impressively full sound out of his self-made cocktail drum kit, and Barry Fleischer, playing a muscular lead guitar and working a pitch perfect imitation of a pedal steel when the tune called for it through judicious use of his tremolo bar and a volume pedal.
But the surprise treat of the night, for me at least, was when backing singer Kellie Graham stepped out for a lead vocal turn, belting out a cover of Lucinda Williams "Can't Let Go" that seared me where I stood. I'd like to say that somewhere in the back of the rotted bundle of raw nerve endings and randomly firing synapses that inhabit the vacant craniums of the Tommy Doyle Kickball League, Graham's stunning performance triggered a shift and brought the audience around, making them appreciate the true glory and joyful energy of what was going on a scant ten feet from them. I'd like to say that, but all I can say is it damn well should have.
Pero will be mastering the Horses' new album next month, which means more shows on the horizon. If you're a fan of rock, country, or just fine music and sweet singing you owe it to yourself to check one out.
On stage the remarkable Bryan Pero and the Tired Horses played the living hell out of some of the finest roots music to grace the Northeast corridor since Dylan and the Hawks hunkered down in a Catskills basement 40 years ago. Meanwhile, on the ground a legion of spastic flesh puppets bedecked in "Tommy Doyle's Kickball League" t-shirts stumbled and wallowed amidst puddles of plastic bottle Budweiser and hung their eyes on the Celtics/Lakers game with a fervor usually reserved for displays of religious devotion. A lesser band would have grown dispirited after about the first half hour of bleach blonde inebriates screaming out for Journey covers, but Pero and the Horses took it in remarkable stride, playing with the exuberance of a band that new they had no one to impress and nothing to lose by playing for nobody's sake but their own.
Opening with the rollicking "Light of the Radio" the band was in top form from the start. Anchored by Pero's acoustic guitar and Karen Sarkisian's bass, the rest of the group was free to play off of each other and provide the supple flourishes and expressive arrangements that transmute Pero's songs from solid clay vessels of love and whiskey into gilded chalices of long drives and open highways. Pero's barroom vignettes are lent a beautiful sepia hue by Keith Dominque's fluid piano and the powerful additions of newcomers to the band Matt Belyea, getting an impressively full sound out of his self-made cocktail drum kit, and Barry Fleischer, playing a muscular lead guitar and working a pitch perfect imitation of a pedal steel when the tune called for it through judicious use of his tremolo bar and a volume pedal.
But the surprise treat of the night, for me at least, was when backing singer Kellie Graham stepped out for a lead vocal turn, belting out a cover of Lucinda Williams "Can't Let Go" that seared me where I stood. I'd like to say that somewhere in the back of the rotted bundle of raw nerve endings and randomly firing synapses that inhabit the vacant craniums of the Tommy Doyle Kickball League, Graham's stunning performance triggered a shift and brought the audience around, making them appreciate the true glory and joyful energy of what was going on a scant ten feet from them. I'd like to say that, but all I can say is it damn well should have.
Pero will be mastering the Horses' new album next month, which means more shows on the horizon. If you're a fan of rock, country, or just fine music and sweet singing you owe it to yourself to check one out.
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