Start putting out heartland-ish rock and you're bound to attract an audience partially made up of drunken brodudes. That’s the lesson to take from former D Generation frontman-turned-roots-rocker Jesse Malin’s show last night at TT’s, during which it was hard to tell if the group in the center of the room yelling out over a few of the singer's acoustic numbers and his occasionally verbose song introductions were disciples or haters.
Maybe it was the fact that they were coming after the personality-free Robbers on High Street, maybe I was in need of a good kick in the ass...whatever it was the Red Walls, a band whose records I’ve never been particularly enamored with, damn near blew me away Tuesday night at TT’s. Extremely quick rundown follows:
I for a second thought the very talented local singer/songwriter Jeffrey Simmons was that lanky Inman Square man who stands in a suit under an umbrella, rain or shine, quietly hawking his self-made publication, Geograflight (sp?), from the sidewalk. It's the MySpace photos he has posted of himself that did it. In them, Simmons, another tallish skinny marink, is dressed dapper (admittedly, though, he's snazzier than Geograflight man who looks like a funeral attendant in that dire suit of his) in a blazer.?xml:namespace>
If you haven't heard of Berklee undergrads The Young Republic, I highly recommend that you check them out. They are one of my favorite Boston bands. Only three or so years into their career, they've amassed an armful of releases, most of which are excellent. So I only say what I'm about to say out of love.?xml:namespace>?xml:namespace>
There’s nothing wrong with a little theft — when it’s done right, that is. The incomparable Jonathan Lethem, in his recent essay for Harper’s, taught me that. Unlike the second performer last night at TT’s, local acoustic guy Brendan Little, who brought to mind about ten different blasé singer-songwriters when he sang “You ain't living till you died/Once or twice” from the track entitled “Boring,” Mean Creak (also of Boston) borrowed from all the best places during their set.
Painstaking studio experimentalists the Ataris are not. So when it takes them four years to put out a new release, you know something’s up. Some of the shit the band have gone and done since So Long Astoria: 1. walked out on Colombia 2. delayed the release of an album 3. grew their lineup to seven members 4. created their own label.?xml:namespace>
While a number of my fellow Phoenicians were camped out over at the Boston Burlesque Fest this weekend, I headed out to the Coolidge where The Sex Workers Art Show Tour was making a stop on Saturday at midnight. This was my first time attending the event, which has been running every year since 1997. It was also the first time I can remember seeing real-life naked ladies outside of the bedroom.
CLIPSEFebruary 27 at the Middle EastTix $22 in advance, $22 at the doorOn sale January 25 through Ticketmaster
Pusha T and Malice in the house that indie-rock built? Oh, fuck yes. Frankly, we've never fully understood why hip-hop touring has failed to keep pace with its commercial unit-shifting power: even if you factor in institutional racism, performer unreliability, and ridiculous ticket prices, you still don't get record-of-the-year candle-men like T.