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By the time the Books hopped onstage, the crowd at the Armory was getting pretty well versed in the art of live music playing along to films. Since the night started, they’d lounged at cabaret tables through all kinds of science-class film collages, animation, rotoscoped trees, and the accompanying playful racket brought on by half a dozen locally-connected bands trying to keep up.
I got my own translator Friday afternoon during a talk by filmmakers Yervant Gianikian and Angela Ricci Lucchi — not because of my esteemed position in the local alt-press but because I was one of the few dolts present who couldn't “keep up” with their Italian. It was Day One of the Harvard's “Futurism at 100” conference, and a sleek lecture room in the Center for European Studies was lined with distinguished thinkers from all over eager to discuss the most industrious, morality-despising, feminism-hating, car-crashingest art movement ever.
Daniel Striped Tiger, photo by Christopher Huang.
Dudes in sleeveless T-shirts who looked as if they’d been bathing in Taco Bell bathrooms for months rolled amps through the quiet, misty Harvard quad to Holden Chapel, where a stately portrait of a shiny-domed professor looked down on a mess of kids flailing around to screamo cadre the Saddest Landscape.
After 16 years at its Hyde Square location, the Bella Luna Restaurant/Milky Way Lounge finally packed it in Sunday and hit the streets with an anything-goes parade from its street-level restaurant and basement bowling-alley nightclub to its soon-to-be home at the renovated Brewery complex on Amory Street.
About five hours into the show Friday night at the Cambridge YMCA, MC and resident Whitehaus scribe Brian S. Ellis once again climbs on stage in a pool-shark three-piece suit to introduce the Needy Visions. “We knew we had to get the greatest band that Weymouth, Massachusetts, has ever produced. And we did research.
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Bachelor of Arts, Big Bear, Thief Thief, Whitetail | You Need New Glasses House, Watertown | March 6, 2009
"We don't usually do encores — it seems a bit wanky," says a sweaty Bill Forshaw in a rubbery, shrugging Aussie accent. "But we might not ever be here again in our lives, so why not?" A few feet away, Kevin McDowell slowly hangs his bass back over his shoulders, muttering to himself, "Plus, we already played all our good songs .
It’s not typical all-ages MassArt Friday-night protocol to stick a solo upright-bassist right in the middle of the night — the bare-walled, no-chaired Room 181 here isn’t exactly big on spots for lounging and reflecting — but having Nat Baldwin open for the hyperactive Big Digits last Friday ended up being one of those awkwardly DIY kitchen-sink moments that make you wonder why every bill isn’t this weird.