From top: Giant Drag, Magic Numbers, Bloc Party, Gnarls Barkley. All photos (c) Jeff Miller.
Coachella Music Festival 2006, Day 2
April 30 at Empire Polo Field, Indio, CA
Coachella’s traditionally been more than just another music festival; it’s been a place where bands break (Arcade Fire, anyone?) or tumble into the sea of hyped-and-forgotten about (The Rapture? Sleepy Jackson?).
Here's the explanation from Nate Little, a campaign spokesman for Kerry Healey, on why the Massachusetts lieutenant governor is taking a pass
on next month's live debate: "Two of the three Democrats won't even be
in the race after the primaries. We sent out a debate challenge last
week, for four debates between primary and election day.
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Good news--some of Boston's civic heavy hitters (the Globe,
NECN, Harvard's Kennedy School, MassINC, and WBUR) are teaming up to
sponsor a live gubernatorial debate on the economy. It's scheduled for
May 18, at the eminently reasonable hour of 7 p.m.; the full press
Here's the bizarre part: lieutenant governor Kerry Healey isn't participating.
Black Eyed Peas, with the Pussycat Dolls April 29 at Agganis Arena
No more shabby Carson Daly green rooms and opening slots for ex-boy-banders. Black Eyed Peas are finally headliners, dammit: bring these people the biggest sign onstage, the freshest Pellegrino backstage, and the right to pee their pants wherever and whenever they want.
New England Metal and Hardcore Festival, Day 2 April 29 at the Palladium, Worcester Words and photos by Carina Mastrocola
While Friday brought the metal, Day 2 leaned more towards hardcore and had a larger crowd than the previous night: think more moshing and less drinking. Highlights not pictured below: Embrace the End, with dual singers who didn't cease moving, jumping, and screaming.
WHAT: R. Kelly "Trapped in the Closet" sing-a-long. WHAT?!: "Maybe you've even seen them on DVD in a room with friends. But you haven't fully experienced them until you've rapped along with R. Kelly in a theater full of hundreds of friends and a bevy of props hidden around the room.
First off, a big fat mea culpa--between wrapping up this week's Phoenix story on the logjam in the State House, putting together an item on Mitt Romney's Mormon P.R. campaign for Slate, and moving to lovely Lynn (or Ocean Park, as I like to call it) earlier this week, I've neglected this blog. Criminally, even.
Having said that, let me draw everyone's attention to Jon Keller's
piece on Deval Patrick in the May issue of Boston Magazine.
Message to Campaign for Real Time: spend your Rumble winnings wisely. In other words, make like Furvis, who made it to the Rumble finals in '05 on a platform of strict Pavement impersonation, underwent one of the more dramatic makeovers in recent local-rock history, and here unveil a slab of Stones-y, whiskey-pickled cawntry-rock, recorded by Gentleman Ed V.
No fucking idea how this ended up at the Paradise Lounge, it's like deciding to hold the olympics at your high school gym. We're guessing club bookers have no name recognition when it comes to the world's greatest party-DJ entertainers? Still, even if the "5-time turntable champion" entry didn't sink in, you'd think someone would have noticed the "Kanye West's DJ" line on A-Trak's resume.
The band formerly known as Raymond makes a huge leap forward: new name, dirty-as-shit guitars, bubbletechno synths, and anthemic moping. Quite possibly the missing link between Magnetic Fields and Andrew W.K., though left to their own devices, they call it something completely different: "Blur, Nirvana, and Enya breaking things at a video arcade in hell."
When I met Don Lennon three years ago, he sat across a table from me for nearly an hour and hardly cracked a smile. Perusing the few press photos that exist of the guy, one would be forgiven for wondering whether he’s ever smiled at all. Which is why it’s amusing that Routine (Martin Philip), the fourth solo album from the erstwhile Bostonian — you may remember him from The Umpteens, but probably don’t — is so preoccupied with comedy.
No telling who the hell's in the band -- at one point last year, Chris Brokaw was -- but Evan Dando is back on a record label again, album reportedly due in the fall. You'll excuse our cynicism, but given the various stops, false starts, and bitter recriminations, we will not be holding our breath. The big questions, none of which have been answered yet:
Didn’t love the new stuff -- except for "You Only live Once," which is fucking great, like the Pretenders on cocaine and restraining orders; and "Ask Me Anything," with just the mellotron, which everyone seems to hate but reminds us of Simple Minds and Magnetic Fields -- but didn't mind it either, because they got most of it out of the way right up front.
Roadrunner touting the Dresden Dolls sophmore-slump-dodging Yes Virgina as the "#1 selling new release in the US":
NEW YORK, NY - The Dresden Dolls are on fire. Their sophomore album Yes, Virginia is the #1 selling new release in the U.S. this week as the album debuts at #42 on the Billboard Top 200 Album chart with 19,000 albums sold.