San Francisco Music Blog

The Emerald Triangle
Monday, Nov. 2, 2009
The Independent

Better than: Watching Vetiver open for Chris Robinson's Wooden Family open for Jonathan Rice open for Ryan Adams open for Interpol.

Paul Scott

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"We're aware that this is a very strange thing," Vetiver front man Andy Cabic announced from the stage last night, his eyes tucked under a floppy brown hat. "It's a thing that doesn't really exist outside of here."

It was the San Francisco songwriter's way of explaining that the band he was performing with, the mostly Southern California-based Emerald Triangle, is non-traditional in every sense of the word. The group's MySpace page doesn't have songs, only a cryptic greeting promising that the Emerald Triangle tour "will melt your face off." The "new musical expedition" offers a set list of material that the five players wrote completely separately from one another. And the Independent show was only the second time these musicians had performed together before an audience. It was a special situation, one that could really go either way. Instead of falling apart, though, The Emerald Triangle was the polished '70s-leaning folk/rock supergroup that, as one observer near me put it, came off even better than the sum of its parts.   

For the next 90 minutes after Cabic's introduction, the five woodsy-by-way-of-Laurel Canyon looking musicians showed fans the myriad strengths between them. Along with Cabic on guitar, the group comprised guitarist Jonathan Wilson, a songwriter who plays with Chris Robinson of the Black Crowes (the drummer, who wasn't introduced, also plays with Robinson); guitarist Jonathan Rice, whose solo work put him on the map with the folk- and indie-pop set; solo artist and bassist Neal Casal, who plays with Ryan Adams and the Cardinals; and the dude who pulled the whole concept together, pedal steel and keyboard player Farmer Dave Scher, who has joined the ranks of Beachwood Sparks, Interpol, and Elvis Costello's band over the years.

The night moved between the Emerald's members' originals and one cover (a fitting tune for a double-Jonathan lineup, "The Trials of Jonathan" by Happy & Artie), each player taking a turn on vocals and each song giving the evening a fresh new dynamic.

Richard Strauss' Salomé
War Memorial Opera House
Friday, Oct. 30, 2009

Better than: Sunday school

Terrence McCarthy

Greer Grimsley (Jokanaan)

​Of the six operas that comprise San Francisco Opera's fall 2009 season, Richard Strauss' Salomé is the outlier -- a production that, by design, represents something of a departure from the musical and aesthetic characteristics of the season's other offerings, and challenges the company to explore different artistic terrain. With a libretto drawn from an Oscar Wilde play, which in turn was based on one of the more X-rated tales from the Bible, Salomé was the quintessential succès de scandale when it opened in Dresden in 1905 (its premiere in New York shortly thereafter was effectively quashed by patron protests).  Unfortunately, though, my reaction to Friday night's performance was less marked by visceral ick than by jaded enh.

This production marked the SF Opera debut of German soprano Nadja Michael in the title role, who has also performed in this capacity at Covent Garden, La Scala, and Berlin's Linden Opera.  Though reviews of her vocal performance in S.F. have been lukewarm (Michael is making the difficult transition from mezzo-soprano to soprano), she drew raves for her lithe, sensual physical presence, and -- perhaps most importantly -- for her stellar execution of the Dance of the Seven Veils, the infamous striptease Salomé puts on for her stepfather, King Herod.  On Friday, however, the audibly discomfited audience was informed in a pre-show announcement that Michael "had become indisposed," and was being replaced by American soprano Molly Fillmore, who had flown in from Phoenix, where she was preparing the role with the Arizona Opera.

Le Loup and French Miami
Tuesday, Oct. 27, 2009
Bottom of the Hill

Better than: Staying home and working on your sexy wood sprite Halloween costume.

French Miami

​There are far worse bands to take influence from than Animal Collective. At their best moments, those zany pop freaks sound ecstatic, primal, deeply rhythmic, and electronically charged. But at its worst, Animal Collective's amorphous songs refuse to gel, giving the live show the possibility of being a drag of shapeless jams and strange tidbits that never quite take flight.

Washington, DC's Le Loup has a strong Animal aesthetic, for better and for worse. The East Coast quartet loosens the edges of its songs so the music can exist in a haze of electronic effects and emotional ebullience. But, like its main influence, Le Loup gets too lost in its own mellow experiments live, making its performance one long set of indistinguishable tunes that trade driving sonics for trippy ambiance.

Christopher Victorio

Neil Young and Adam Sandler

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Neil Young's Bridge School Benefit Concert

Combine a huge rock' n roll show with a school benefit and you're bound to attract a crowd of hip parents. It felt like family day at Neil Young's annual Bridge School Benefit concert at the Shoreline Amphitheater yesterday, with all of the tiny rocker tots running around. Even Gwen Stefani and Gavin Rossdale's kids could be spotted scampering about the crowd in their chic kid-wear.

It was the perfect family-friendly set-up: parents didn't have to put their kiddies to bed too late since the show started at 2 p.m. and ended before 10 p.m. Plus, between sets, parents could peruse the vendors outside the theater area with beer in hand, while their kids ran around in the sunshine (the kiddies only occasionally pressed their noses against the glass of the "jewelry" booths to get a better look at the smoking paraphernalia).

Christopher Victorio

Fleet Foxes, Robin Pecknold

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It was a stellar weather day for an outdoor show, as was mentioned by nearly every performer who stepped up to the mic -- of course, they also weren't forced to sit in the scorching sun of the lawn section.

Former Bush frontman Gavin Rossdale was the first all-acoustic performer after a welcome from Young. Crowds had only filled in the shady sections of the giant theater by the time he took to the stage. Even though Rossdale has had some solo pseudo-hits since the band broke up, the crowd cheered loudest for old Bush tunes like "Glycerine."

Joseph Schell

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Gossip
October 25, 2009
Regency Ballroom

By Rossiter Drake

Better Than: Staying home to watch Dexter and Mad Men. But be sure to DVR them.

"We started a band 'cause we were bored. Our mission is to make you dance, and if you're not gonna dance, just stay at home and listen to the oldies station."

So reads Gossip's unofficial manifesto, the one the Portland-based soul-punk trio cheekily settled on soon after forming in the cramped basement of their Olympia, Washington, home in 1999. Ten years later, on the heels of Music for Men, their Rick Rubin-produced major-label debut, they arrived at the Regency on Sunday night to make good on that mission.

And how they did. Beth Ditto, the band's plus-sized frontwoman, resident fashion diva, and self-described "ham," sauntered onto the stage at a quarter past 10 p.m., launching into the festivities with a searing rendition of the otherwise slow-burning "Dimestore Diamond," Music for Men's bluesy opener.

Joseph Schell

​Blind Pilot
Wednesday, Oct. 21, 2009
Great American Music Hall
Better Than: warm milk and cookies on a cold, blustery night.

There could have been a tornado outside, or even a secret Weezer show just down the road, but anyone who was watching last night's sold out Blind Pilot show at The Great American Music Hall wouldn't have noticed. Cold, wind, Weezer -- the elements had nothing on this band's sweet melodies and humble, mellow stage presence. 

Joseph Schell

​Weezer
Wednesday, Oct. 21, 2009
The Regency

Better than: Seeing an arena rock band in an arena.

Just to be clear, there was a lot of screaming going on at the Regency last night for Weezer's free "secret" show.

Fans screamed when the line they were standing in outside the venue--a line snaking around the corner and down the alley next to the club--started to move indoors. They screamed, in random outbursts, between the time the opening act, Natalie Portman's Shaved Head, finished, and the time Weezer took the stage a little after 9 p.m. (Which made for fresh false starts of oh my god weezer is on stage every few minutes). They screamed, of course, when Weezer jogged into the spotlight, the group dressed in matching white hoodies and white jeans and the strobe lights began flashing. They screamed every time Weezer played a hit--which was nearly the entire set list. And, as a first for this reviewer, the fans screamed again as they were exciting the building, their excitement in no way dimming as they raced toward complimentary commemorative posters from the show.

Guys, these Weezer fans were stoked.

And their enthusiasm was completely contagious. There's nothing like being sardined into a room where hundreds of people are unabashedly and undeniably giddy to be there. I guess that's what happens when you take a band that's used to playing arenas and stick them--thanks to sponsor MySpace--in a mid-sized venue that usually houses less established acts.

One of the best things about the night was that Weezer was also stoked to be there, the band's showmanship keeping the fever pitch high through to the end (including through an encore that involved a Black Sabbath/MGMT/Lady Gaga medley). "It's not every day that you get to see an arena rock band in a venue like this," frontman Rivers Cuomo pointed out to his fans. "And it's not every day that an arena rock band gets to play for this sized crowd," he added, calling the arrangement "mutually beneficial."

Christopher Victorio

The Flaming Lips

​Day Two: The Flaming Lips, Beirut, The Walkmen

October 18, 2009

Treasure Island Music Festival

Better Than: Being stranded on any other island.

Sunday's festival goers had to be a little more hardy and wind-resistant to enjoy day two of the Treasure Island Music Festival. But cooler weather also may have made the investment into a few ridiculously priced beers or Soju drinks worthwhile. By the time the day's headliners made their grand entrance onto the island's main stage, the crowd had warmed-up enough -- either from booze or furry costumes -- to welcome the characteristic Flaming Lips antics that capped off the weekend's festivities. 

Grand entrance may be an understatement. The Flaming Lips show began with a grainy, seizure-inducing video of a larger-than-life naked woman projected onto a giant, orange archway on stage. With lights turned low, and psychedelic sounds throbbing in the background, the crowd - egged on by the silhouettes of stagehands - did as they were told and cheered. As the naked woman on the video settled into the birthing position, and a blinding light emerged from her giant vagina, no one needed encouragement from the stagehands to make a ruckus. One by one, band members emerged from behind the projection on the archway so that it appeared as though the woman in the video was giving birth to the band into the neon world of the stage (literally, it looked like someone had dropped an orange and yellow paint bomb onto all of the band's equipment).

Joseph Schell

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The Pogues

There were two kinds of Pogues fans last night at The Warfield: the fans that wound up at the center of the dance floor, and everyone else. Of course there was occasional cross-pollination between these two broad categories throughout the night. But in general, the fans at the center--which by song one had turned into a surging, sweaty, pit-loving, fist-pumping mob of mostly very large men--stayed there for the band's whole set.

Joseph Schell

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These guys (and the occasional gal) knew what to expect from a Pogues show even before the lights dimmed. They knew before the five enormous security guards puffed up their chests to prepare themselves as band members took to the stage. They knew before lead vocalist, the lovingly self-destructive and toothless Shane MacGowan, stumbled and mumbled his way to the front mic clutching a red plastic cup in one hand, cigarette dangling from the other. They knew that when the accordion struck that first Irish chord, a lurching, debaucherous, brotherly kind of chaos would ensue. And anyone stuck on the floor who didn't know what was coming was either happily swept into the typhoon, or promptly spit out onto the sidelines.

Joseph Schell

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Clothes flew, beer flew, people flew -- and during the band's faster jigs, only the fittest survived standing. But The Pogues' music isn't the type one might generally associate with moshing. It's traditional Irish folk music, perhaps spiked with a small dose of The Clash. Plenty of crowd members preferred to watch the ruckus from high in the balcony areas, where they could enjoy the music without worrying about being pelted in the head with a cup of beer.

Joseph Schell

​Elliott Brood
Cafe Du Nord
October 12, 2009
Better Than: playing the pots and pans at age five.

Most crowd members looked a tad perplexed as Elliott Brood's drummer stepped out from behind his drum set mid-set, grabbed a laundry bag from the side of the stage, and proceeded to empty its contents -- wooden spoons, drum sticks, and tin plates -- onto the dance floor. But it only took one crowd member diving for the flatware for everyone else to catch on. Soon the front row area around the stage, which had previously been vacant besides a few brave dancers, had filled in with smiling crowd members wielding makeshift instruments. As Brood launched into their most foot stompin beat of them all, "Write It All Down For You," the crowd hopped, skipped, and happily banged their wooden sticks on their tin plates to create what we're sure was the best kind of ruckus Cafe Du Nord has seen in a while.

Joseph Schell

​Had the group handed out instruments to the crowd any earlier, the noise might have driven everyone out of the venue by encore time -- luckily, the timing was perfect. Instead it got anyone who had been sitting to stand, anyone who had been standing to dance, and anyone who had been dancing to go completely bananas. From start to finish, the whole set incorporated similar creative theatrics, from the homemade light show (Christmas lights, red rotating siren lights, and red lamps that were apparently hot enough to cook a hamburger, according to one band member), to the group's circus music introduction. The show was fun and makeshift enough to avoid being too gimmicky, and the music good enough to prove that, theatrics or no, Elliott Brood knows how to get a crowd off its laurels.

Joseph Schell

​Although the Canadian-based act is currently touring on its sophomore album, Mountain Meadows, the group played nearly all the songs in their repertoire last night. The gravelly vocals of Mark Sasso are as chilling live as they are in studio -- but, of course, the studio sound couldn't capture Sasso's two-stepping on stage, or guitarist Casey Laforet's intense rocking back and forth in his chair as he simultaneously pounded on the bass pedals with sock-clad feet. The set ended with the front man from the show's first openers, Wooden Sky, hopping on stage with a pair of wooden spoons and tapping out the last tune on the venue's ceiling (front man Gavin Gardner is, by the way, roughly seven feet tall).  

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Andrew W.K. and Calder Quartet
Wednesday, Oct. 7, 2009
Swedish American Hall

Better than: Metallica and the San Francisco Symphony.

Hours before he took the stage, Andrew W.K. was amping up his fans. His Twitter feed was bursting with typical AWK excitement:

"PARTY MINDSET OF THE DAY: Remember that even when life feels hard or scary, I am here cheering you on, and you will KEEP GOING!"

"Walking around San Francisco & thinking about moving here. Of course I would keep my house in NYC too! CONCERT TONIGHT!"

This is a man who, in his own lyrics, "gets wet without even trying." And last night, he got wet about classical music like no other musician I've seen. (I doubt many rockers have accompanied a string quartet by whistling into the microphone while holding the entire mic stand horizontally, like a flute.)

W.K. has found his classical muse, after spending time recording an album of "spontaneous solo piano improvisations" earlier this year. Match that yearning for the ivories with a manager who has connections to the experimental classical group Calder Quartet, and you have an evangelistic evening of strings, stomping on the ground, and, at the end of the night, silence. It was a pretty amazing show. 

Joseph Schell

​Cave Singers, Lightning Dust

Chrissy Loader

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John Prine
Hardly Strictly Bluegrass, Golden Gate Park
Friday, Oct. 2, 2009

Better than: Listening to John Prine indoors, minus a box of cold beers and the scent of funnel cakes around you.

Golden Gate Park has played host to numerous music events over the summer, from the gigantic Outside Lands to the smaller radio station and hiphop concerts. But the season of outdoor shows is fading like evening sunlight, the change notable in the chill creeping into the air in the middle of John Prine's set last night at Hardly Strictly Bluegrass. Picnicers who had stripped down to tank tops and shorts to beat the blaze all afternoon pulled on their layers as it started to feel like fall in the park meadow. But no one was better dressed for the event than one of Friday's big headliners: John Prine, who sported a snazzy suit (as did all his bandmates) in a performance that helped send the park's giant music gatherings out on a highly memorable note.

Prine took the stage just around happy hour, hundreds of fans settled into the grass before him far beyond the festival-food booths, families and friends passing around BYOB cases of Pabst and airplane-sized bottles of wine. The legendary songwriter came armed with plenty of droll banter--some of which, you'll see in YouTube clips, he's used before. But he's funny enough that's easy to forgive.

He opened the song "Fish and Whistle" with the explanation, "I never meant to write this song, but I was working with a stubborn record producer." The producer was apparently pushing Prine to finish an album he wasn't happy with, and, Prine explained, "I'll show him, I'll write the worst song in the word." Of course, once the song was finished, the songwriter ended up liking it--as did the crowd around me, who swayed and sang along to every word.

Joseph Schell

​Mason Jennings

It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia Live

Patrick McElhenney

​Thursday, Sept 24, 2009
Better Than: Actually visiting Philadelphia.

When It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia debuted on FX in 2005, it wasn't a runaway success. But the show about four dysfunctional friends trying to run a bar, whose inaugural episode was called "The Gang Gets Racist," quickly amassed a highly devoted fan base. Sunny isn't a program that people are "kind of" into. It's something fans quote incessantly and become emissaries for. So when a live version was announced, followers happily snapped up tickets.

The crowd at the Nob Hill Masonic Center was palpably excited and visibly drunk. Several attendees had decided to pay homage to the show through costume. A foursome were wearing cotton-ball wigs (a nod to a show in which the clan flashes back to colonial times) and two men (we think) were wearing head to toe green spandex, a get-up donned by one of the characters when they become an alter-ego called Green Man.

Local cowboy warbler Toshio Hirano opened the performance with mournful songs of heartbreak and yodeling. Hirano usually plays small, intimate places like The Rite Spot, so it was fun to see him before a big audience. But his baleful tunes and polite, gentlemanly manner wasn't a match for the restless crowd that couldn't help chattering and hollering through his set, which produced the odd effect of being in a rowdy honky-tonk bar.

​Doug Paisley
Wednesday, Sept. 23, 2009
Rickshaw Stop

Better than: A Canadian talk show about American politics.

Canadian songwriter Doug Paisley learned at an early age to dress in layers. At least that's what he told us last night from the stage at Rickshaw Stop, as he peeled off his jacket only to reveal more layers of long sleeved, cold-weather clothing below. In person, he was covered in plenty of fabric. But he was also kinda naked.

Not naked enough for us to see his pasty Toronto skin, but naked in the bare songs he sketched out for us with only an acoustic guitar to help carry the heavy emotional weights he was lifting. He'd warned us he was gonna get down to his metaphorical skivvies that night. This came after he asked the crowd--the small dozen or so of us gathered, typically for a tiny show, way in the back of the room by the bar--which set list did we want to hear? Our choices were the "tried and true" or the "wild card." Of course wild sounded more fun, so Paisley went with that, mixing what he called "songs that are three-quarters baked" with banter of the same quality.

Paisley's the kind of songwriter where even his half-baked ideas blow the delicate coffee-shop-circuit variety of sensitive guitar slingers off the stage. His vocals give all of his pronouncements (which mostly focus on love) an old soul quality, his delivery weathered like the best old country singers, who in a few words evoke that "been-there, lost-that" feeling.

​Pet Shop Boys
September 22, 2009
The Warfield Theater

By Steven Gdula

Better than: listening to the remixes at home.

For a band that has invested a lot in presenting an image that says "We don't care," - remember Neil Tennant's yawn on the cover of Actually? - the Pet Shop Boys' show at The Warfield on Tuesday night proved that the duo of Tennant and Chris Lowe care a great deal about their relevance.

In fact, relevance was a major theme during the Boys' 90-minute set on the first of their two-night stint in San Francisco. The duo chose evenly and judiciously from their ten album catalog rather than obligingly plugging their latest CD, Yes, or plodding through a greatest hits dog-n-pony show.

But in the world according to Pet Shop Boys, everything and anything is fair game for a send-up. So when Tennant sang, "Give me one more chance to keep you satisfied," from "You Were Always On My Mind," it was difficult to tell if it was a plea to an audience that has more choices now than it did roughly twenty years ago, or if it was all part of a mocking ruse.

As an aging pop artist, and particularly as an aging gay man, Tennant knows he is increasingly faced with the issue of his relevance. It's a notion he started addressing ten years ago, around the time of Pet Shop Boys' Nightlife CD, when he spoke openly about the emphasis on youth, and on maintaining a youthful image, in the gay culture. "Everyone is trying to be hip, so subsequently no one is hip," he told an interviewer, and it sounded every bit the liberating statement. Collaborating with remixers-of-the-moment aside, Tennant and Lowe seem to have dispensed with trying to stay ahead of, or keep up with trends, gay or otherwise, and focus instead on their art.

Wade Grubbs

Jonathan Richman and Tommy Larkins
September 20, 2009
Make-Out Room

What must it be like to be Jonathan Richman? Guessing from his Sunday night show, it's equal parts joy and sorrow in abundance. The singer-songwriter's emotions are delivered in many languages; I counted English, Hebrew, Spanish, and French tonight. And he even got heckled in Hebrew.

Richman and longtime drummer Tommy Larkins played the first of a four-night run at the Make-Out Room in the Mission, something that has become a tradition. Richman mesmerized the attentive crowd with songs new, old, and improvised. He held us all rapt, never knowing where the twists in his thoughts and strumming might lead, but willing to take the journey with him as our guide.

The music led to many places. Richman's Spanish-style guitar flourishes and meanderings were a rich accompaniment to his verbal asides. His quirkiness wasn't wasted on the crowd, which was largely composed of middle-aged farts like myself who were slightly past their sell-by date but still capable of wonderment at a good show.

Cory Weaver

Patricia Racette (Giorgetta) in Il Tabarro

Puccini's Il Trittico
War Memorial Opera House
Sept. 18, 2009
Better than: Nicorette

If you're trying not to fall off the no-smoking wagon, be warned that SF Opera's current production of Giacomo Puccini's Il Trittico may leave you with a powerful urge to light up.  Characters in all three of the one-act operas that comprise this work bust out the nicotine (the finale, in particular, features levels of tobacco usage not generally seen outside of Mad Men). This retro proclivity is perhaps not inappropriate, given that the work was last staged in its entirety in S.F. in the heavy-puffing year of 1952. Fortunately, though, incidental props aren't all that's smoking-hot in this lively, multifaceted production, directed by James Robinson and first staged by New York City Opera.

In an unusual feat, Patricia Racette takes on all three main soprano roles -- the dissatisfied wife of an older barge captain in Il Tabarro; the titular nun with a heart-wrenching past in Suor Angelica, and the coquettish ingénue in Gianni Schicchi -- and excels in all three, displaying remarkable dramatic versatility as well as a showcase-worthy voice. (Indeed, SF Opera general director David Gockley chose to stage Il Trittico specifically to capitalize on Racette's talents.) The memorable sets by Allen Moyer and strong performances by fellow cast members form a worthy context for this undertaking.

Joseph Schell

Sea Wolf

Bimbo's was a fitting venue for a band named after Jack London's seafaring novel. But there's really nothing very wolf-like (or, sea-wolf-like?) about either the mellow band members or their mellow folk rock music, and the combination made for an all-around mellow evening. The band is spearheaded by lead singer and guitarist, Alex Brown Church, who sounds like a cross between Conor Oberst and Beck (who also happens to look like Church's long lost twin brother). The rest of the band includes cello, electric guitar, bass, keyboards, and drums. 

Joseph Schell

Last night, Church left the banter to the crowd and did very little talking through the set-- except to say thanks and other not-so-tabloid-worthy things. However, there was one funky moment near the end of the show when one audience member decided to vocalize his feelings about the band and shouted, "You guys rule!" to which someone else in the audience quickly responded, "Shut the fuck up!"  

Church then did his best to dampen the awkwardness that followed.

Pascal Teixeira

​Phoenix
Thursday, Sept. 17, 2009
The Warfield

Better than: Any other cure for the summertime blues.

All of a sudden, it feels like summer in San Francisco. Last night was one of the few evenings where the city baked like a sauna, so what better band to bring on the balmy weather soundtrack than Phoenix, who have arguably created the jam of the summer with "Lisztomania."

That song is so illegally upbeat it should be classified as a narcotic, and at the Warfield all it took were the opening keyboard lines to whip the crowd into an ecstatic frenzy. The French pop fiends made a bold move opening with their big hit, making the beginning feel like the encore--getting the fans to throw their hands in the air and everything. Then again, it also rocketed the mood instantly to a high that was effortlessly maintained throughout Phoenix's performance.

The group produced a grand spectacle to behold--all runner lights on the equipment and strobe lights above and rainbow beams behind them. But an equally dazzling vibe came from the music, which never slowed in pace--or stopped generating enthusiasm--as the night went on.  

Terrence McCarthy

Marco Berti (Manrico) and Sondra Radvanovsky (Leonora)

​Verdi's Il Trovatore
War Memorial Opera House
September 16, 2009
Better than: Experiencing the Anvil Chorus solely through Ragu pasta sauce commercials.

According to no less an authority than Enrico Caruso, all you need for a good performance of Il Trovatore are the services of the four greatest singers in the world. I couldn't say whether the principals in San Francisco Opera's current version meet that exalted standard, but the stellar performances they gave on Wednesday night -- in the context of a visually impressive production by David McVicar and spirited conducting by new musical director Nicola Luisotti -- were more than enough to save Verdi's 1853 crowd-pleaser from its own inherent excesses and shortcomings.

You don't really go to the opera for the finely crafted plots, and Il Trovatore is no exception. The story can only be described as intensely silly; sort of a mash-up of Tosca and the "you killed my father; prepare to die" bits from The Princess Bride. Also potentially problematic is the fact that the first two acts involve more telling than showing, as they are constructed around narrated accounts of past events rather than immediate action. Thus, it falls to the performers and the production designers to work some compensatory magic -- in the absence of either top-notch musicianship or compelling staging, the whole affair would be an incoherent drag. Fortunately this production is engaging enough as a spectacle to keep tedium largely at bay, and the singers in the four main roles represent the cream of a cast with no real weaknesses.

Joseph Schell

​Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros

www.reggiewatts.com

​Reggie Watts, Rory Scovel, and Chris Thayer

The Hemlock

September 9, 2009

Better Than: Sitting at home like a giant shit-fuck stack.

No one deserves the title of Vocal Artist better than man behind the looped, scooped, and pooped renderings of last night's headliner at The Hemlock's "Club Chuckles," Mr. Reggie Watts. The room was packed by the first show of the evening (we went to the 8pm show -- there was another one at 10pm), and the crowd seemed eager to laugh even before the show's host, local comedian Chris Thayer, took to the stage.

Watts started out his set by laying down some ground rules, which included: "don't go there unless you have to," "take'er easy," and "apply slowly." Given the rest of the show, it's clear that the headliner is not a big fan of rules. That being said, he did ease the audience into his set by buttering us up with some love for San Francisco. More specifically, the Tenderloin, where he says one can just "feel the municipality." If the feeling was something like having a rash, then we've felt the municipality in the Tenderloin too. He then launched into a stream of consciousness song about the city that mentioned all of the famous parts: the hills, the bridges, the market by the bay where we can go "get some onions and shit." It ended with a Journey tribute (because, let's face it, SF was the only reason that band was ever able to take the power rock ballad to the next level).

​Glay
Wednesday, Sept. 9, 2009
The Fillmore

Better than: Flying all the way to Japan to see them like fans would have had to do a few years ago.

It doesn't seem like a year since Glay last played The Fillmore.

The Japanese pop/rock juggernaut returned last night for a second round of what looks like a regular yearly jaunt to California. The results - same as last year, part two.

Glay is the kind of band that doesn't really exist in America, at least not any more. A good third of the group's set consisted of sweet and arguably rather sappy ballads, with the remaining two thirds split evenly between upbeat pop songs and faster, more rock-influenced numbers. That's always been the question with Glay - is it a pop band or a rock band? Where does it fit?

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Wavves
Rickshaw Stop
Sunday, Sept. 7th, 2009

By Noah Sanders

So Much Better than: an 80-foot tall burning man.

After last night's Wavves show at Rickshaw Stop, a new trifecta of criteria has arisen for the near-perfect show.

One, the performance must fall on a holiday/on the final days of a "beloved" festival in the desert, concurrent events that have a positive effect of thinning out hyped shows. This leaves the clubs to the die-hards, the true fans who'd opted out of, say, bro-tastic floats down the American River in favor of a dimly lit room and one of California's best up-and-coming acts.

Two, you need a sense of youthfulness to the night. The Rickshaw crowd, appearing varied in age from just-teen to just-forty, crackled with impetuous energy. There was a glimmer of recklessness in the way the front three rows burst into a pogo-moshing hybrid on more than one occasion, as well as in the sweaty half-naked fight (a fight!) that ended with Wavves singer Nathan Williams rolling on the ground in an attempt to stop it. In layman's terms: the audience just seemed so edgy and so palpably excited for Wavves, their fervor could not be contained.

Mos Def's The Ecstatic Tour with Erykah Badu and Jay Electronica

September 4, 2009, Paramount Theater

Better Than: Hip-Hop Karaoke Night.

"No disrespect to any dudes who rap. But I'm a bad motherfucker."

Thus spake Mos Def.

EKAphotography copyright 2009. all rights reserved

The MC: Mos Def

​The Brooklyn MC (and occasional big screen actor) wasn't just bamboozling the Oakland crowd who poured into the Paramount on a night halfway between summer and fall. Def really is a bad motherfucker - not bad meaning bad, but bad meaning good.

Talent-wise, he's been in the upper echelon of hip-hop artists for well over a decade, since first being introduced to the world by De La Soul on their Stakes is High album, 14 years ago. His 1998 solo debut Black on Both Sides is an acknowledged classic, though his recorded output over the last ten years has been somewhat sparse, with just two albums (The New Danger and True Magic) released prior to his 2009 offering, The Ecstatic.

At this point, Mos is pretty much the consummate MC. He backed up his braggadocio with a set which featured a dynamic stage presence, plenty of verbal gymnastics, and even entered Michael Jackson territory at one point, as Mos followed up a passable rendition of "Billie Jean" with a moonwalking glide across the Paramount stage.

EKAphotography copyright 2009. all rights reserved

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Mannequin Men

​Davila 666, Mannequin Men, Nobunny
Wednesday, Sept. 3, 2009
Thee Parkside

Better than: Getting a massage.

When there's a holiday at the end of the week, everything gets moved up a day. So Monday's the new Tuesday, Tuesday's the new Wednesday, and, because of this scientific acceleration, Wednesday's the new Friday night. Last night at Thee Parkside, the crowd was as impatient to trade in the middle of the week for its end as the bands were amped to act like the end was here. The club filled with the sounds and the stumbling arounds (and into walls, for some girls near me) of pure weekend release.

There was good reason for there to be a party going down at Thee Parkside. Two of the best bands on the rock/garage circuit, Chicago's Mannequin Men and Puerto Rico's Davila 666, were in town, supported by our own rascally rabbit, Nobunny .

Nobunny is a special breed of furry pervert, giving '50s rock 'n' roll a filthy beer gut sensibility, Dictators style. He's a smart-ass character in grimy cartoonish fur, and his trash- and fun-loving songs about girls and punk and puns ("Motorhead with Me!") forcibly prevent serious analysis. The 'Bunny performs with a full band, including a shirtless Marcos from Rock N Roll Adventure Kids on bass, a cottontail tucked into his asscrack. The vocals, and the set itself, was rough as your tongue during a bad whiskey hangover, which only makes the performance all the more fun. Last night's show was Nobunny's second to last, however. There's one more gig coming up--for Budget Rock at the end of October--after which, Nobunny explained, "I'm gonna die."

Joseph Schell

​Those who didn't have bling to spare on Outside Lands festival tickets got their own impressive lineup for free yesterday afternoon at the Bang the Drum celebration at Peacock Meadows in Golden Gate Park. Big names at Bang the Drum included Naughty By Nature, Tash, Q-Bert, Hieroglyphics, Blackalicious, and more. The free show was brought to San Francisco by the show, The Drum, from KZSU Stanford, to celebrate its 25th anniversary.