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>
No disrespect to the esteemed Boston Pops, but it’s been a while since one of their performances really got my heart racing.
Until last night.
Midway through a musical tribute to Oscar and Tony winners at Wednesday’s Opening Night at Pops — an event which, it should be noted, draws the coiffed and coutured benefactor set — a scream from the balcony brought Keith Lockhart’s baton to an unexpected halt.
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>
I wasn’t going to mention this. But I’m an on/off again viewer of the show and a fan of the band and well it’s not everyday one of your favorite local groups gets the opportunity to have one of their songs on the silver screen. Chop Chop was doing some shows back in September of last year in LA and “I unwittingly invited one of the producers,” explained frontwoman Catherine Cavanaugh briefly via an email.
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.
A one-time budding academic who for existential reasons drops out of Colombia University to work as a hot dog vendor, Mortimer Taylor Coleridge doesn’t even like pop music. Nor is he familiar with VH1, the channel on which he first comes across Gwen. But it isn’t long after the encounter that he’s carefully considering No Doubt’s lyrics and patroling message boards for clues about his ain true love's character.?xml:namespace>
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>