4.20.10 Sexfist, Ben Miller Band

Sexfist switching venues after such a long & successful run at Red Line Tap is something I had to cover. Going out on weeknights is difficult but the gravitational pull of my new favorite bluegrass band was too much to resist. So I snagged a cab and buzzed down to Wicker Park for a few hours of awesome music. When I arrived at Jerry's, I found Chuck Oakton sitting outside, enjoying the crisp night air. We spoke for a minute about Springfest then he told me that we needed go inside to see the opening band, The Ben Miller Band. He didn't tell me much about them, but it didn't take long to realize that he wasn't kidding.

L to R: Scott Leeper, Doug Dicharry, Ben Miller

I was planning to only drink 2 beers so that getting up at 7am wouldn't be so brutal the next day. However, I was stoked to find that Jerry's had root beer on tap, perfect for a show on a Tuesday. But even if you don't have to go to school at the butt crack of dawn, Jerry's has you covered. They have an extensive beer selection and a wild menu of sandwiches to nosh on. Not only is the consumable fare kicked up, but the entire atmosphere & ambiance of Jerry's is a world apart from Red Line Tap. It is a very classy joint with a clean & sophisticated crowd. I definitely love small bars with tons of character (as evidenced by my previous Sexfist review), but Jerry's is a notch up the ladder of venues and will really suit Sexfist's classic & refined style.

The Ben Miller Band hit the stage and I was immediately excited to see that there was a washboard in the band. This instrument is a rare one to see and is only one of this band's unique characteristics. Not only does Doug Dicharry play the washboard, but he also played a trombone, a mandolin, a drumkit, and the electric spoons. He pretty much had the entire musical galaxy on stage and played like a wizard on all of them. Dicharry played the most instruments, but not the weirdest one. Scott Leeper took that title by playing a single-stringed washtub bass. This might be the most simply-constructed instrument I've ever seen at a real show, but the way Leeper played this thing was like it was an artisan-crafted double bass. And to top off this eclectic musical emsemble was Ben Miller, who only played the simple acoustic guitar/harmonica combo... while he had one foot on a drum pedal and the other with a tambourine attached to it! It goes without saying that this is one of the most unique acts I've covered thus far for CJS.

Look at that bass! Scott Leeper is the shit.

The music was every bit as wild as the collection of instruments would lead you to believe. Leeper was unbelievable on the washtub bass and could produce a deepening shift in pitch that felt like an uppercut to the belly. He would bend his sounds just by moving the handle/neck back and forth a few centimeters, giving tremendous life to his deep, thumping basslines. His plopping bass notes had an amazing rollercoaster quality to them that was incredible to experience.

Dicharry attacked the washboard like a natural disaster and produced percussion that sounded like extreme tap dancing. Then he would grab the trombone and he would add a very colorful, almost macabre feel to the music. Or he'd grab his mandolin pick like a fiend with Miller battling along side. When he busted out the electric spoons I was stoked to learn that they sound just like coconut shells and reminded me of Monty Python and the Holy Grail. Then he would hop on the drums and kick out a very eccentric drumming style that included what looked like a school bell that he would hit with this odd, backhanded stroke. Dicharry was a madman with every instrument he touched and really blew me away with his musical abilities. But he was equaled in sheer musical genius by Ben Miller, who would play whimsical acoustic & hormonica tunes then bust out some filthy, bluesy slide guitar where he'd drop his capo far down the neck to create a sharp & snappy sound all while stomping out a rhythm with his kick drum & tambourine. These guys flew out of the womb ready to make music-- straight natural talent on a crazy high level.

They played a number of original songs that were extremely well composed and threw down a couple of amazing covers as well. They mellowed out the vibe of Nirvana's "Heart Shaped Box", dropped a dirty slide guitar version of Ram Jam's "Black Betty" and gave me the tingles with an amazing & electrifying version of The Beatles' "Come Together". These songs whipped the crowd into a healthy froth, so when they closed the set with a blistering washboard song, the buttoned-down crowd busted open an uproarious applause. This band is definitely special and I'd love to see them again soon.

Get Sexfisted.

By this time I had a nice seat right near the stage and hung out while Sexfist set up. The root beer was delicious and talking with the guys from the band was a treat, as always. These dudes are seriously chilled out and they have a very appreciative attitude towards their fans and the music scene in general. The set up & sound check ended up taking quite a while, which is to be expected on their first night in a new venue. Their gear was honed to a fine science at RLT, but they were definitely still settling in to Jerry's on this festive night. They finally hit the stage right around 11 with a tasty blast of banjo-guided bluegrass. "Turn Me Loose" is a great way to begin a show and really highlights the capabilities of this incredible band. The band was definitely on-point already, but the sound was not and seemed to be changing all the time. A short while later was a quick "Nobody's Fault But Mine" with Bradley Longwood providing some passionate vocals. "Ain't It A Shame" was up next next with a mellow, bass-driven opening that eventually landed in a sweet fiddle section courtesy of Jeffrey Chestnut.

Mr. Chestnut. Always in focus.

They continued the bluegrass assault with a great "Mountain Girls Can Love" that had the dancefloor folks shredding. The entire front of the stage was filled in and the dancing was exuberant as Sexfist kept plowing along. They stayed on task even as I could tell they were unhappy with the sound. The levels seemed to be fluctuating all night and at times the crowd noise was almost overpowering the sound. Mr. Oakton kept glancing at the stage mics with suspicion as the sound was all over the map and didn't seem to be getting much better. I mean, it was alright, but definitely not dialed in the way I expected. Mr. Chestnut announced that there was a sad song coming right as I began to yawn, so I decided to head out and grabbed a t-shirt on my way out the door.

I was disappointed that I couldn't stay longer, but felt ok about it knowing that Sexfist was obviously here to stay. They are a seriously talented bluegrass band with a ceiling that seems to be rising all the time. The sound issues were a little off-putting, but it was their first night in a new venue and I'm sure everything will be ironed out in no time. These guys will be hitting the festival scene harder as summer kicks into gear and they spread their bluegrass love around the Midwest. Get out to Jerry's and experience Sexfist's righteousness for yourself-- they would love to kick your ass with bluegrass.

Bass in your face.

May 2010 CJS Concert Spotlight

Permanent Residencies
Sexfist
Jerry's, 1938 W. Division, 773-235-1006
No cover, every Tuesday night at around 10:15
***Chicago's resident Bluegrass destroyers***

Mr. Blotto
Reggie's Music Joint, 2105 S. State St, 312-949-0120
$5, show at 9 every Tuesday night, usually 1 opener

May 1
The Glitch Mob
Double Door, 1572 N. Milwaukee, 773-489-3160
$18, show at 9:00, 3 openers

May 6
Shpongle
Kinetic Playground, 1113 W Lawrence, 773-769-5483
$25, show at 9:00, 5 openers

Brainchild
Reggie's Music Joint, 2105 S. State St, 312-949-0120
$7, show at 8:30, 2 openers

May 8
30db (Brendan Bayliss and Jeff Austin)
Lincoln Hall, 2424 N. Lincoln, 773-525,2501
$25, show at 10:00, 1 opener

May 14
Marco Benevento Trio
Martyr's, 3855 N. Lincoln Ave, 773-404-9494
$12, show at 9:00, 1 opener (Spare Parts)

May 15
Particle
Double Door, 1572 N. Milwaukee, 773-489-3160
$20, show at 9:00, no openers listed... I don't believe that
***super shreddy jamtronic explosions***

Alex B
Kinetic Playground, 1113 W Lawrence, 773-769-5483
$20, show at 9:00, 5 openers

May 18
Them Crooked Vultures
Aragon Ballroom, 1106 W Lawrence, 773-561-9500
$46.75, not sure if it's doors or show at 7:00, no openers listed but I expect at least 1

May 19
Sage Francis
Bottom Lounge, 1375 W Lake, 312-666-6675
$20, show at 8:00, 2 openers
***kickass hip-hop lyricist with a live backing band***

May 21
Sharon Jones & The Dap Kings
The Vic Theater, 3145 N. Sheffield, 773-472-0449
$22, not sure if it's doors or show at 8:00, no openers listed but I expect at least 1

May 26
LCD Soundsystem
Metro, 3730 N. Clark, 773-549-0203
$25, show at 9:00, 1 opener
***SOLD OUT***

Moonalice
Martyr's, 3855 N. Lincoln Ave, 773-404-9494
$12, show at 8:00, no openers listed

May 28-30
Summercamp Music Festival
Chillicothe, IL
3-day camping ticket is $170, Thursday Pre-Party $20, Late Nite Shows also extra
moe., Umphrey's McGee, STS9, Gov't Mule, Yonder Mountain String Band, Keller Williams, Victor Wooten, Pretty Lights, Zappa Plays Zappa, EOTO, Cornmeal, Railroad Earth, Dumpstaphunk, The New Mastersounds, Future Rock, Kyle Hollingsworth Band, That 1 Guy, Zach Deputy, Papadosio, Big Gigantic, The Twin Cats... among many others
***amazing, relatively small festival less than 4 hours from Chicago... you better be there***
Summercamp Music Festival Website

May 31
Broken Bells
The Vic Theater, 3145 N. Sheffield, 773-472-0449
$34, show at 7:30, no openers listed but I expect at least 1

4.17-4.18.10 Muncie Springfest Days 2 & 3

Day 2 began on a sour note. I was jolted awake by two dogs fighting about a foot from my head just outside my tent. Even with earplugs jammed in my skull I nearly shit my sweatpants in fright. These fucking dogs again... I can't figure out why anyone would want to bring their dog to a festival. If you are one of those people that likes to bring your canine to a music festival, do everyone a favor and leave ol' Rusty in the kennel for the weekend. Dogs do nothing but cause trouble and annoy the shit out of everyone without a dog. And I'm even a dog person! /rant

I got my act together and realized that I was one of the last ones up. Not surprising. Also not surprising is the fact that I had no hangover despite hitting the sauce pretty hard Friday night. For some reason my liver is particularly sharp at music festivals and all it takes is a Red Bull and a heavy campsite chill session and I'm ready for another 14 or so hours of music. Luckily, the morning wakeup was made easier by Nate when he busted out a massive sack of thick-cut slab bacon. We were all chilling hard when someone, still partially wooked out from the previous night, started asking about vitamins. I looked at him and said, "Dude, what do you need vitamins for? You're about to eat bacon." We hung around the site until around 1, pounding down grilled swine and fighting the vicious wind. The sun was beating down warmth but whenever the wind picked up, the heat would blow off and I'd be freezing again for a moment.

The wind is abusing this tent; the poles and wires are maxed out and I thought this guy was going to fly all weekend.

On my way down to the music I finally got a good grip on the layout of the festival. Since we came in at dusk I felt a little confused on Friday night. However in the light of day the simple layout & relatively diminutive nature of these festival grounds became obvious. From the top of the hill you can pretty much stand with your back to the main stage and see out over the entire camping area. The lot is basically right next to the camping area and your car is a maximum of half a mile from where you're camping. Our car was less than a quarter mile from the campsite, which made schlepping all our shit in very easy. This place is actually a pretty nice location for a festival and was beautiful during the day. If only the weather was a bit warmer and the wind wasn't trying to rip my face off...

View from the hill. Notice the wooked out person on the chair to the right.

Approximately 2:00pm: Jahman Brahman

I made it to the main stage area just after 1:30. I wandered around a bit and wasn't too impressed with what was happening on the Main Stage so I milled about and ended up down at the Beach Stage. This "stage" was really more like an open air room with a corner for the band. The capacity in this place was very low however there weren't very many people while I was there around 2pm. This band was definitely the best music playing at this time. They were an instrumental band specializing in some spacey jam rock with grooving bass lines and heavy distortion on the wonderfully noodley guitar. These guys reminded me a bit of The Malah, except instead of feeling submerged in water I felt as if I was hovering in the atmosphere. They had a very light & bouncy vibe to their meandering jams that made me feel awesome. This band was definitely the unexpected surprise of the weekend and proved to be the best band I hadn't heard of coming into this festival.

Jahman Brahman. Makin' it rain shreddy spaaaaaaaace.

After Jahman Brahman, I was waiting for another date with my new favorite bluegrass band, Sexfist. I ran into Chuck Oakton on the way to the hill and said hello. Chuck is one rad dude and I could tell by his excitement that he was ready to shred the Main Stage. I ambled up the hill to sit down and study up on my new camera while I waited for Sexfist's set. I sat about halfway up the hill and once again took note of a wild pack of filthy Wooks who seemed to be engaged in some sort of Extra Low Frequency conversation. You can spot these guys yourself-- all you need to do is look for what appears to be a pile of pubic hair with fake Oakleys jammed in the center, a flat brim resting on top of the mat of hair, and gnarly dreadlocks framing the whole ensemble. Other defining characteristics include: surviving only on grilled cheese & Natty Light, the ability to swallow whole nitrous tanks and a mutation that enables them to excrete raw Shardzz from their sweat glands. In addition, no matter what the weather is like, these dudes will be wearing a black hoodie and dark pants. It could be 110 degrees at Bonerzoo or 40 degrees at Springfest and they will be wearing the same uniform. Wooks aren't extraterrestrial, they're ultraterrestrial. They can be found at every festival, typically walking around the lot with their haggard looking dog and will generally stay out of your way unless you're giving away free bread.

Approximately 3:00pm: Sexfist

Sexfist. Always ready to make a crowd shred like crazy.

The Sexfist set got off to a rocky start as there was an extended sound check that still didn't seem to remedy numerous sound issues. Feedback was a serious issue and the sound guy on stage looked pissed off about it. However, the band forged through the issues for a few songs that still had the crowd kickin' up dust. A new song, "Take Me Back To You", really got the people moving and had some apes in the pit doing some wild goosestepping. These two guys in particular were bouncing all over the place and really seemed to have come down with Bluegrass Fever. After this song, Jeffrey Chestnut (fiddle) commented that all the feedback "sounds like a UFO's gonna land on stage". I think this got the sound booth's attention and they finally dialed in the audio for the rest of the set. They ripped into a banjo pickin' song they called "Big Country" that continued to elevate the audience's energy and dancing pace. This crowd seriously ate up the only true bluegrass offering of the festival and really seemed to enjoy themselves. The boys threw in a Bill Monroe cover to pay homage to where Monroe got his start in bluegrass. This song slowed the pace down a bit, but was well-received & definitely appreciated. Sexfist knows how to bring the pace back to a blaze and brought the set to a close with what is becoming a staple crowd mover, "Helter Skelter". I posted a video of this song in my last Sexfist entry and it once again made the crowd go insane. The cloud of dust hanging over the pit area reminded me of Yonder at Rothbury in 2009. It was a dense cloud that ended up all over my camera within 30 seconds of wiping it down. I looked around at the frantic crowd and couldn't help but get down myself-- Sexfist is the shit and if you can't shred righteously at their show you most likely have a chromosomal abnormality.

Sexfist getting friendly with their fans at their merch area.

Approximately 4:00pm: Waldemere Revival / Interview with Sexfist

I went back to the site to refuel after Sexfist but came back within a few minutes to catch Waldemere Revival. I was given a recommendation to check these guys out by the Hidden Relic booth and made good on the opportunity. While I waited for them to start I ran into Mr. Oakton from Sexfist again and asked him if he would sit down for a quick interview. He agreed but needed a minute to calculate his mental state. So I went to the pit area just as Waldemere were starting. Right away I was hit with an awesome sound that I'd never heard before. This band utilizes a distorted harmonica to create a sound that is like a creepy cosmic wind. The man behind the harmonica, Corey Flick, definitely stood out to me as the spectrum of the music that I enjoyed the most. I would get lost in his amorphous howling and feel my face start to drift away. But the rest of the music didn't quite strike the same chord with me. I felt like the lyrics detracted from the spacey vibes of the rest of the music and seemed to be bordering on pop music. That isn't to say this band wasn't good though, because they definitely were. I would have stayed for the whole set, but I had my first artist interview to tend to.

Waldemere Revival. Celestial harmonica.

I met Chuck back by the Hidden Relic booth and asked Joey Buttram, head honcho at Hidden Relic, if I could use the booth's couch for the interview. He agreed and about 15 minutes later Chuck had the band rounded up and chilling on the couch. The interview was recorded on video by HR and went pretty well. I had asked all of the Hidden Relic questions and I was just starting to get to some of my Chicago-centric questions when the wind ripped through the tent like a banshee and almost lifted the whole thing right off the ground. HR's booth got twisted by the wind, a grill almost tipped and sent coals flying into another tent, shirts got tossed, posters got blown away, and the backdrop for our interview was destroyed. This caused a 10 minute intermission in the interview while everything got straightened out. We set the camera back up and I finished the interview in another 10 minutes. All said, it went pretty well for my first interview and I'm looking forward to a more formal Sexfist interview in the near future. I still don't know the outcome of the video of this interview but the experience was awesome nonetheless.

By the time the interview was over it seemed like it was almost time for UV Hippo's set... and this is the one I came for. I only had a little while to chillax at the campsite in order prepare to have my soul seared by the Hippo.

Approximately 6:00pm: Ultraviolet Hippopotamus

Russell "The Love Muscle" James.

Posted up on the rail and camera unsheathed I stood ready while UV Hippo measured up their soundcheck. They didn't seem to want to fuck around and basically just started ripping immediately. The show instantly dropkicked my brain with an unbelievably violent version of "The Marine". They played this song the last time I saw them but that was in front of a bunch of snooty rich white folk at a jazz club. This time they were standing in front of a pile of drugged-up primates and took the opportunity to unleash the true power of this song. Dave Sanders pushed his Moog Lil' Phattie to the brink of nuclear meltdown with a hellacious electro attack while Russell James & Sam Guidry climbed the jam mountain and rained down lightning on the crowd. And this was just the first song! Seriously, you have to get this show.

Dave Sanders. Master of maniacal Moog mayhem.


Sam Guidry. Sargeant of screaming String savagery.

Next they jumped into one of my favorite covers that they play, Zappa's "City of Tiny Lites". I've listened to this song about a thousand times from the classic Czar's '07 show and it fucking rules on that. But on this day, this song was so much more intense. They added a crunchy Sanders Moog-out and even more shreddy guitar insanity. This song was serious business.

Brian Samuels. Buddha of ballistic Bass bashing.

I could go on and on about this set because the entire thing was a fucking bonfire. Shred Central from start to finish. It lit the festival ablaze with UV Hippo Madness. About halfway through the set I decided to go around the fence to get right up next to the stage to take pictures... and I'm glad I did. I got sick pictures of everyone except Casey Jones, the percussionist. I couldn't get a decent shot through his plethora of instruments. Sorry Casey! After focusing on photos for a bit I went back into the pit for some more raging. The next highlight for me was an absolutely blistering "Yin Yang" that featured the gnarliest shredding of the whole show. Both Sam & Russell got loose with the finger tapping and constructed a sonic landscape like the heart of a fucking asteroid belt. Floating in space being pelted by laser beams of sound... nothing to do but dance like a crazy asshole and let the dust settle into the sweat building on my brow.

Joe Phillion. Doctor of dastardly Drumkit destruction.

The set ended with a new jam apparently called "Dave's New Tune" for the time being. The song begins with some playful piano from Sanders and a tight shuffle from Phillion. And it ends up, as you can imagine by the title, with berserk Moog wailing coupled with some perfectly harmonized sounds from the guitar duo. This song concluded what ended up being the Cornerstone set of the weekend. Back at the campsite nobody could shut up about how amazing Hippo was, especially me. I'm definitely not the only person who thought this was the best set of Springfest. These guys are serious, serious fucking business and will be around for a long time.

Approximately 8:30pm: Willie Waldman & Steve Molitz Big Damn Jam

I had to hit the campsite after Hippo to put the pieces of my face back together. But I didn't have much time to spare as the Big Damn Jam was something I definitely needed to see. It was getting dark out which was bringing back my fears about night photography. I headed to this show solo and made my way to the rail to take photos as soon as I got there. And just as I had feared, I still hadn't learned enough about my new camera to take photos very well. Nonetheless I photo-spammed the stage in the hopes that something good would come of it. After a few minutes it became hard to maintain focus on photography. The music was more than I had bargained for and once again my brain was being hoisted off the chassis and loaded into a cannon. The return of the combo of Molitz on synths & Waldman on trumpet was simply amazing. Then when they brought out Tony Austin, who Waldman reinforced is "one of the best drummers in the world", the sound got real heavy. Austin laid down a drum interlude that put the crowd into a serious trance and caused one of those eerie spaced out silences among the audience. It was amazing.

Willie Mothafuckin Waldman.


Tony Muthafuckin Austin.

This time they had two guitar shredders with them and it was fucking crazy. This music was completely freeform and had no boundaries. Waldman would hop in with some crazy trumpet that would bounce off of Molitz's Moog just right... only to be catapulted even further into space by the guitar duo's additional harmonizing. At times this sounded like a jazzed up Ozric Tentacles, or maybe a creepier Particle. This was some kind of crazy musical mutant and it was absolutely incredible. But I was still wiped out from Hippo and the camera was frustrating the shit out of me, so I headed back to the site once again to refuel before the headliner of the evening and another of my favorite bands, Papadosio.

Insane harmonizing. Bordering on surreal. Perfectly constructed mindscape. Spaaaaaaaaaace.

Approximately 10:30pm: Papadosio

After simultaneously recovering yet losing my bearings I decided to shove off back to the Main Stage, this time with cohorts in tow. We got down to the stage about 15 minutes before Papadosio began. There was some decent electronic music playing in the meantime and we were joking about whether or not it was Papadosio... After what seemed like forever they finally hit the stage and the pit area was packed. I hung around with the group for the first song then pulled my typical shade out routine to grab a piece of the hill. I sat down and they began one of my favorite chill out songs, "All I Knew". Following this song was one I'd never heard but it put me in a great mood. It was called "Divine Moments of Truth" and featured some jungle-esque grooves, a playful beat that sounded like a xylophone but was probably electronic, and other wild sounds that ended up in a Thogmartin crunchy noodle breakdown. Next they ripped into another one of my favorites, "Improbability Blotter" and I realized that the sound wasn't what it should be. Everything was just muffled and it almost sounded like a recording from up on the hill. I was disappointed in the sound quality but I knew they were maxing out what they had been given. It was still awesome.

Papadosio. The best of a bunch of incomprehensible pictures. I will have this down by Summercamp, I promise.

I spaaaaaaced out for a good chunk of time, feeling lost in the sound floating up to the hill. The light show on the stage was pretty amazing and I had a crystal clear view of the stage. The show was amazing, but I couldn't help but chuckle at Billy Brouse, the synth slayer. His spectrum of the band's sound is the most danceable part and is clearly what the kids all pay for these days. But his stage persona is pretty ridiculous. He was up there fist pumping and making strange faces in anticipation of whatever sounds he was about to unleash next. It just looked out of sync and was completely unlike the last time I saw them. Then there's the rest of the band-- so reserved & chilled out on stage, but there's Billy going apeshit, waving his arms in the air with a big putty-faced grin stuck to his head.

Greg finally met up with me on the hill and spaced out to a sick version of "Frequence" with guest Max Allen tearing up the guitar. The string work in this song was more fierce than usual thanks to Allen's aggressive approach. During this song we both started to feel extremely cold so we hit the hill to find people with a fire. We found a nice group with a roaring fire and stood about an inch from it through an awesome "Unparalyzer" that wouldn't let my body stop moving. When the song "Magreenery", a real ripper, started up we bid the friendly fire-bearing strangers farewell and hit the pit area. Even though we were about 20 feet from the stage, Greg and I were conversing at a normal volume and this seemed very odd. Nonetheless, this song was an epic 20 minute opus and sealed this show as an overwhelming victory despite the weak sound. We hung on for 2 more songs as we both wanted to hear "Polygons" but couldn't stand the cold anymore-- we needed more fire. As we hit the backside of the hill we heard the opening of "Polygons" and I felt satisified... but still bitter cold.

We got back to the campsite and warmed our sinew by the fire. The tractor rim had seen a shitload of wood and was now bulging with ash and charred bits of snarly wood. The good burning wood was long gone and the fire was reduced to about half of its thermal capacity... not good for me. All of a sudden we heard the trademark sound of Willie Waldman's trumpet in the Tent Stage. I was tempted to go check it out but had a serious case of chair lock. Next thing I knew the guys I was camping with came stomping back with shit eating grins. Following close behind them was none other than Willie Waldman himself. He brought his bass player with him as well, but Willie was the main event. He regaled the group with tales of hanging out with his crack dealer in LA before going to play trumpet for Snoop Dogg, watching all the rock stars in the 80's die from heroin while he was allergic to heroin aka blowing massive amounts of cocaine, and how he took plenty of psychedelic medicine before he went on stage earlier in the night. Needless to say, the guy was a serious trip and locked our group in an intense dialogue. For a minute I thought he was going to seize Rod by the throat and scream straight into his eyeballs. His bass player finally convinced him to go after 20 minutes of Insane Storytime with Willie Waldman.

Approximately 2:30am: The Twin Cats

The Twin Cats were a band that I really wanted to check out at Springfest. It was late, I was still freezing and I was totally wooked out, but I somehow managed to drag my ass out of the chair and head to the Tent Stage. I stepped inside the Tent hoping for some warmth and was relieved to finally find some. The Twin Cats had the place raging and all the body heat had collected. The bass player had a really goofy look but a super loose & funky style that really stood out to me. I was only in there for about 15 minutes, however, when I started to feel like the scene was pretty seedy. For one, some spun out douchebag had his head down and plowed through me and about 5 other people that I saw. Then right after that, this insane looking dude holding up a cheap, battery-powered light ball came stumbling through the crowd. His eyes were all bugged out and his head was cocked to one side with his arm in this creepy, tree branch posture. He was definitely weirding everyone out and that was my cue to head back to my tent.

I huddled over the fire for a few more minutes then crammed some earplugs in for the night. I started to drift off to sleep while I could hear The Twin Cats wrap up their set with an awesome cover of Daft Punk's "Robot Rock", but my mind kept wandering. I ended up literally laughing myself to sleep thinking about the hot rumor of the day. Earlier I had heard that some Wook had eaten 37 hits of acid and thought his face was melting off during Particle and walked over to a vendor and dropped his face right on the grill. For some reason (probably because I had been laughing about those Wooks all weekend) I just couldn't stop laughing about this scenario running through my head.

"The Wook, in a fit of wild aggression, seized the 37 hits in his paw and thrust it through his beard and down his throat hole. He felt the paper wad up & tumble into his thorax and grunted with pleasure. He stumbled his way to the rail, in front of Molitz, to experiment with space. Hours pass and the Wook is lost. After a particularly violent tag team from Combe and Molitz, the Wook is overcome with terror. He fell backwards into the people behind him, waving his arms to maintain balance. He spilled out of the crowd, barely able to keep upright, walking in a horizontal plane. Particle began a new song behind him, but the Wook was on a mission. Molitz's Moog had turned into a Samurai kitana and sliced his face into wedge-shaped lobes and he was going to die unless he seared the pieces back together. The Wook aimed fast & heavy for the fajita stand, rocket hot metal. He angrily shoved the poor cook aside and dropped his face right on the grate. The Wook stayed frozen for 30 seconds, people screaming all around him. Finally he snapped out of it, ripped his head off the grill and stumbled backwards. Instantly he realized that his sunglasses had melted & fused with the grill and the light from the parking lot was entering his eye caves. His face has sustained no damage, only emblazoned some fine grill marks into his facial hair shield. He nonetheless recoils in horror as the cobwebs & fossilized crustaceans in his eye sockets start to crumble and fall out. He scraped at the grill for his glasses but they were hopelessly stuck. He careened backwards and let out a primal howl, 'Errr AH Errr AH WAwumWAwum WaWaWaWaWaWaWaWa WAWAWAWA'"

Sunday

Rod woke me up at 10am and we began the packing process. We hung out for a bit to say our goodbyes and what have yous. We rolled out around noon and not even 30 minutes after we left I got a text from the J-man asking what was up with Springfest. We called some people still at the festival and apparently the owner of the campground got a wild hair up his ass, saw that Springfest attracted a ton of people, and demanded another $6,000 outside of the contract. The organizers saw through this and moved the rest of the shows to another venue in Muncie. I'm glad we left before the drama because it didn't mar our awesome weekend at Springfest. This little festival was exactly what I needed and perfectly kicked off Festival Season. If Wuhnurth happens at the Waterbowl I will certainly be back. This festival was a great success if you don't count the weather and the owners-- Springfest definitely kicked ass.

4.16.10 Muncie Springfest Day 1

Friday

The trip got off to a late start... so predictable. Greg and Rod finally pulled up around 1:00 pm, and by the time we loaded up on copious amounts of dank beer, it was already 2:00 and we weren't even on I-90 yet. Greg drove like an absolute maniac, topping 100 mph without even batting an eye and it still seemed to take forever to get to Muncie. Thanks to my spacephone, I was able to dial in an easy route and bypass driving through Muncie proper. We rolled up to the entrance of the Waterbowl around 7:00, breezed through the gate thanks to our Guest List status, and set up shop with a bunch of wild apes about halfway between the Main Stage and the Tent Stage. It was a solid spot and we got the rage going with some beers, some chocolate and a blazing fire in an old tractor rim. It was a good start to the Opening Day of Festival Season.

~8:30 pm Covert Operations

When I rolled over the top of the hill for the first time I was pretty stoked. The stage looked awesome at the bottom of this scooped out hill. I was also surprised at how few people there seemed to be. The groups on the hill were spotty and the crowd in front of the stage was pretty small as well. We landed in front of the stage and could easily walk to the rail with no resistance at all. There was even some dude who wheeled his cooler in front of the stage to use as a bench. Personally, I love the feel of a small festival like this. It's really nice to be able to move freely through a crowd and use a toilet without waiting in a 15 minute line.

Covert Ops had been playing for a while when I got there, so they were in full swing when I finally came to a stop. They were knees deep in a really loose jam that was pretty solid. One thing that bugged me though was that the guitar was tuned exactly the way Jerry Garcia's guitar sounded. I don't think it's that difficult to steer clear of copying a legend. The band wound through some more jams and they were pretty good, but nothing spectacular. I retreated back to the hill to shade out and take in Covert Ops from a distance. The sound quality on the hill was definitely impaired. It felt like the volume was just too low. CO ripped into their encore and came to a solid peak, but still didn't explode like it should have. These guys had a sound that I should have liked a lot more than I did.

CO wrapped their set so I decided to mill around and check out the vendors and what not. I got back down to the bottom of the hill and was met by a mob of dogs. Like 8 rambunctious canines, some of them not even on leashes. This would be a theme throughout the weekend... I also ran into a pile of Wooks who were speaking in some sort of extraterrestrial language. I couldn't see their mouths moving through the Mangrove forest of neck hair they have covering their faces, so I couldn't even be sure which one was speaking. These guys would also be a theme of the weekend... I ended up hauling back over the hill to the lot area and made my way to a hulking geodesic dome. I approached the setup and heard the familiar sound of running a fax machine through a meat slicer, aka dubstep. I know I have been a big proponent of this fringe genre in the past, but I can already sense its crest beginning to roll over. I got to this dome and there was but one spun out geek shredding to some terrible music in this crazily lighted dome. I couldn't help but bust out laughing. The scene was lame, and while dubstep has its moments, it can all too often become a caricature of itself.

On my way back to the Main Stage it hit me, I put the pieces together. Those Wooks I saw earlier speaking in robotic utterances were speaking in dubstep! This music has become so ingrained in the seedy underbelly of the festival culture that the lot scum have adopted it as a language. The repetitive & filthy vibe of dubstep is a perfect microcosm of the Wook lifestyle. It seems like these dudes literally just walk from festival to festival all summer in a network of underground rat trails. Then when winter rolls around they all crawl to Florida to sink into the ocean and survive with their mutant Wook gills in some scummy Crab's Nest. I cannot picture these dudes anywhere other than a festival or the ocean floor.

~10:00 pm Particle

I got a new camera and I didn't really know how to use it. You can still feel the electricity of Steve Molitz and Ben Combe.

I came back over the hill from re-stuffing my backpack full of Old Milwaukee and was hit with a menacing sound. Within mere nanoseconds, Particle had already brought more energy than the entire Covert Ops set. After charging down the hill, I posted up about 10 feet from the rail and tried to take some pictures. I recently got a really nice new camera to kick up the photography in this bitch and I went into battle without knowing my gear very well. I was unaware of the need for an increased exposure in low light and moved my camera too much while taking shots. The result was a whole mess of very blurry & frantic photos... somewhat similar to what was happening to my brain as a result of Particle. After their opening jam they flew right into a cover of Radiohead's "National Anthem" that took me by storm. I heard that classic opening bass riff and couldn't believe what I was hearing. I kept saying, "they can't be playing this, they can't be playing this." Then the song lifted off and kicked my face into orbit. Willie Waldman, the trumpet legend himself, was making a guest appearance and took this song to another level. He laid down some frightening howls that combined so perfectly with Molitz's synth savagery it made my spine turn to jelly. This song seemed very strange coming from the combo of Molitz & Combe, but it sounded so fucking good and Waldman put it over the top. This song was a cosmic explosion, my notes explain, "these guys get it, spacy and groovy and just fuckin perfect." Indeed.

The show didn't slow down from there either. I shredded the stage area for another jam or two, soaking up Molitz's SPAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACE exploration. This guy is an absolute beast and is seriously one of the finest musicians in the jam circuit. His counterpart, Ben Combe, provided for some similarly spectacular moments, but also had his misses as well. After a minute I decided to shade back out to the hill again to calculate my mental state. The sound was much better by this time and I couldn't help but think about the stark contrast between the two bands I had seen on this stage. Covert Ops was a nice jamband I would see for free at a bar; they were good, solidly entertaining and the music was generally up my alley. But Particle... they were like a terrible reptile sprinting straight at me, all fangs & talons. This band was a musical monster and I felt like they could literally peak somewhere near Mars if they wanted to. What Molitz & Combe do at their peaks is the very definition of face-melting. This wild outdoor set sent me off to the campsite on an electric bent and got me really excited to see them at the Double Door next month.

When I finally left the show I instantly realized how cold I was. It was somewhere in the neighborhood of 34 degrees and that mediocre sleeping bag inside my tent with an F-value of zero just didn't hold the promise of comfort that a bed usually does. There would be no relief from the cold upon going to sleep. No, I had to absorb as much heat from the fire as I could before I crawled onto my air mattress... it was going to be a long night.

4.17.10 Poor Boys Relief

I have been begging Poor Boys Relief to play in Chicago for years. They're one of those dazzling Michigan bands with the potential to make it big on the jam band/festival scene; they just need exposure. And they certainly got it by playing at Wrigleyville's Goose Island. This was my first time seeing Poor Boys Relief play live and I was impressed with the caliber of their original music and their mastery over the instruments. They reminded me of a young Gov't Mule or Allman Brothers, and they definitely have the ability to follow in their footsteps.

Poor Boys Relief started off with mellow but upbeat performances of "Heroes And Scarecrows", "Potbelly", and "Best Of My Best". The guys seemed comfortable and at ease as they let the music flow. Their style is bluesy rock with jam band flavor. I thought the kickass guitar solos were improvised jam riffs. When I was told by the band after the show that they were written I was extremely impressed. It's one thing to let loose on a guitar; it's another thing entirely to have such a deep understanding of jam music to allow you to capture the spontaneity and liveliness of the genre with the security of written music. In every way, these guys blew me away. In fact the only suggestion I have for the band is for the lead guitarist, Matt Church, to play louder!

Brooks Robinson's playful and engaging stage presence

Early on I could tell that Brooks Robinson has a masterful stage presence. His showmanship was engaging and high-spirited. He was able to elicit a great response from the notoriously stiff Chicagoans, whose enjoyment of the show was obvious as they bobbed their heads and danced in their seats. I didn't even see this much movement at Pitchfork 2009! Poor Boys Relief's playful college vibe is infectious.

Towards the middle of the show, keyboardist Chris Bemben's sounds formed the foundation of their best songs; the bluegrassy and soulful, yet fast-paced and happy rock that only a keyboardist can capture. He dominated on "Why Can't We Dance", a song that reminded me of early Grateful Dead performances with it's liberal use of the keyboard. Another favorite of mine, "Saga Of The Hairless Mole Rat", reminded me of late Led Zeppelin and classic Southern rock, with dank and ominous beats driving the music. Drummer Oscar Azevedo thrashed like a rock god, creating the thunder and lightning for the hot Louisiana storm rolling over Goose Island. Lead singer Brooks Robinson brought the crowd in emotionally with his passionate and perfectly-tuned voice. Bassist John Bommarito tied it all together with pulsing notes, leaving me with the sensation that I was driving broken-hearted down the Louisiana interstate with the top down, cigarette in hand.

"Saga of the Hairless Mole Rat"

The band came back from their syrupy, swampy excursion into the underworld with an invigorating performance of "Electric Parade". Once again, Matt Church led the band with an exciting solo guitar jam that left the crowd yearning for more. Their last two songs, "I Saw A Ghost" and "Hibernation Days", demonstrated their mastery over the Rock-Jam genre. They've struck a perfect balance between the meandering jams that make classic jam bands like Phish so polarizing. Poor Boys Relief is mainstream enough to capture people who listen to the radio and corporate music, but are also fresh and engaging enough to appeal to hardcore festival goers.

Poor Boys Relief is an up-and-coming band whose accessibility makes them a breath of fresh air on the live music scene. Keep your eyes peeled for them at festivals next year-Chicago Jam Scene guarantees they'll be blowing up fast. Their show was successful and they thoroughly impressed the stonecold Wrigleyville crowd. When the next band Roses and Sake (from Chicago) started playing, nearly 20 people walked out. I almost did myself. Chicago is a tough crowd and Poor Boys Relief is a hard act to follow.

For more information and upcoming shows, please visit Poor Boys Relief's website.

4.13.10 Sexfist

I had been meaning to head to Rogers Park to see Sexfist for a while. But after spending the first few months I lived in Chicago in that neighborhood, I was intimidated at having to deal with the Morse Red Line stop at night. It is definitely a sketchy place, but it was time that I grew a spine and made it to the Red Line Tap for Chicago's resident bluegrass rippers. Especially because it was their last weekly show at Red Line Tap and it was sure to be a raging scene.

Kickass bluegrass with class.

When I got to the Red Line Tap it was pretty empty. I didn't realize it at the time but I pulled up a barstool right next to the guys from Sexfist. I wet my lips on a Honker's Ale and turned around to check out the opening band. They were a bluegrass band called Mad Bread and they were pretty solid. The mandolin man/lead vocalist was a beast, especially when they tore up an awesome cover of Pink Floyd's "Time". I don't know what it is about Pink Floyd, but their songs make for some kickass bluegrass tunes. I turned my barstool back around to re-up on sauce and I realized that they had $3 tallboys of Schlitz. This changed my whole game and I switched beers for the night. It just felt right in this bar. The RLT reminds me of a place I'd drink at in the Upper Peninsula. Severed animal heads tacked to the walls and delightfully shitty beer in huge cans... this place knows what's up. The opening band ended and I finally realized that I was sitting next to Sexfist. I recognized Chuck "The Banjo Behemoth" Oakton and introduced myself, explaining that I was there to take photos and review the show. He was stoked.

Check out the crazed look on Chuck's face (left). What a madman.

The intermission was long and it got hot in the bar as the Sexfist fans began to pile in. The only relief from the heat was an occasional blast of cool air from the stage door being opened. I stuffed a tallboy in the pocket of my flannel shirt and posted up on the wall right in front of the stage. After about 20 minutes, the band finally came out to shred. The band assumed a classic position, clustered around a microphone in the center of the stage. This orientation really seemed to add to the group dynamic of the band-- they are constantly shuffling positions and allowing each other to step to the mic. Their snappy dress clothes and unique huddled approach give this band a classy & sophisticated vibe. The show began with a wild & somewhat jammy "Syracuse" where Chuck boomed his powerful brand of vocals to go with a filthy banjo riff.

Howlin'.

Not long after this they slipped into a different gear and laid down a Bill Monroe classic, "Blue Moon". This is as traditional as bluegrass gets and this song featured a killer bassline from Bradley Longwood that seemed to have a little more slap than usual and added a subtle percussive element to the song. After this the band decided to drop a bolt of lightning into the crowd to really get things going. They launched into a sizzling bluegrass version of "Helter Skelter" and set the tempo of the show at a fantastic pace.

Bluegrass covers are the shit.

The opening set continued to shred on with an Earl Scruggs tune called "Bringin' In The Georgia Mail" that kicked up the tempo and got the crowd steppin'. They brought back their own catalog soon after with a passionate "Carolina Moon". This brought a fresh group of dancing fools to the front of the stage and around this time the venue was totally packed. I could sense some more jammyness in this song and it made me feel good inside. Before I knew it, over an hour had passed and it was time to bring out some guests. The band taking Sexfist's place at RLT, The Mudflapps, came out for a collaboration. They sang one raucous song the lead singer claimed was, "written by drinkers for drinkers." It was exactly how it sounded... a song about getting loaded and having a King Hell good time. This ended with a rowdy cheer from the crowd, who definitely could relate to the subject matter. Chuck then stepped to the mic and announced he had some poetry. It was a touching epic about their love for the RLT and their Rogers Park fans, but a desire to move on and bring the ruckus to another neighborhood. They brought the first set to a close with another shoe melter, "High On The Mountaintop". This song made the crowd go nuts once again and I noticed how appreciative everyone in the crowd seemed to be. It was a mixed bag of very cool & unpretentious people who looked generally like hipsters but ones who would fit in better at Summer Camp than Pitchfork.

Sexfist + The Mudflapps.

By the time the second set rolled back around, I was feeling pretty hosed and so was everyone else. The song "Shadow Of The Man I Used To Be" kicked off the second set with almost flamenco-like guitar courtesy of Clutch Johnson, some sweet & gentle fiddling from Jeffrey Chestnut, and some more thick vocals from Chuck. The crowd was good & greased up and Sexfist had this place hopping way more than necessary for a Tuesday night. A song that must have been called "Lonesome Blues" really stuck out around this time in the show. Mr. Chestnut busted out some wobbly & howling vocals that almost made me feel like I was canoeing in West Virginia and sounded like bluegrass ought to sound.

Look at that grin on Bradley Longwood's face as Jeffrey Chestnut rages the fiddle.

A serious highlight of the entire night popped up around this time of the show. "If you wanna set me freeeeeeeeee, Go Down On Me!" put the crowd in a fantastic mood and made me chuckle the whole time. The lyrics to this song are fucking hilarious and Clutch Johnson completes the mood of this song with some slurry & intoxicated sounding acoustic guitar. The second set raged on and brought me one of the coolest songs I've ever heard. I've already established my love for bluegrass covers, especially of classic rock songs, so when the boys busted out a serious version of Jethro Tull's "Locomotive Breath", I had found my Elysium. I fucking love Jethro Tull and this rendition did the song tremendous justice. I got a video of this song but couldn't help my drunk ass from singing during the song, so it's pretty lame.

Tear it up Clutch!

Before I knew it, 2:00 am had rolled around and the bar was kicking us out. The band was apparently having way too much fun, however, and decided to carry the concert out to Glenwood Avenue for a little Outdoor Encore. Unfortunately I ran out of room on memory card to record this, but believe me, it was fucking amazing. It didn't take long for the scene to get rowdy and the bar once again had to shoo people along. I was drunk enough to put my head down and beeline it for the Morse L station. I was scared, but I was so charged up from Sexfist I think I could have punched some thug's skull clean off... not really, but I could have ran like hell with "Locomotive Breath" still pumping through my veins.

Sexfist is fucking righteous and they are moving to Jerry's at 1938 W. Division to continue playing weekly Tuesday shows. These guys are doing it the right way and will blow your mind with bluegrass. I will be there tomorrow and I'm looking forward to another ass kicking.

4.11.10 Atoms For Peace

I slept like a baby after that ass kicking from Galactic. Amy and I woke up and decided to really enjoy my first day back to Chicago. We hit up our favorite restaurant, India House, and went for a leisurely stroll on the Mag Mile, soaking in the cool Lake Michigan air and spending a little money along the way. By the time we hit up my second favorite restaurant, Aladdin's, it was 6:30 and we were running dangerously behind. It was our plan to catch as much of the opener (Flying Lotus) as possible, I've heard many good things about them and missed seeing them a few different times now. But by the time the trains lined up at the platform and spit us out at Lawrence, we missed the entire set and walked into a calm & quiescent Aragon Ballroom. It wouldn't be that way for much longer...

Perfect timing from the CJS Chief Photographer, Amy.

The venue got packed in a hurry as we shuffled around trying to decide where to post up. We thought that the balcony might be a decent spot, but when we finally condensed out of the solution, we were still about 3 layers of sediment deep from the railing. As soon as the first song, "The Eraser" came on, I decided that we had to find a chasm in the crowd. It was as packed as I've ever seen at the Aragon, but we still managed to slide up next to the sound booth into a spot where the music sounded excellent. When I heard that quick drum shuffle and the opening piano notes of "Analyze" I knew that we were in for the entire album all the way through. I actually really like shows like this, despite the fact that I prefer unique setlists. There is something to be said for laying out the entire story of an album for an audience to enjoy... I was really digging how well the album music was translating to the stage. I was skeptical of how the mellow & wispy energy from The Eraser would play out on the stage, but I couldn't be more stoked on the end result. Next up was "The Clock" and this marked the point where I realized that this show would bring a level of intensity & explosion that the album couldn't even touch. The staccato burst of percussion from Joey Waronker with the fuzzy grind of Thom Yorke's guitar lit the fuse, but when Flea kicked his gargantuan bass into gear I felt the ballroom explode with energy for the first time in the show. The crowd stumbled out of its slurry, Hipster coma and began to actually move some limbs, finally groove to the music which had lept off of a tame album and landed like an atom bomb on the stage at the Aragon.

"Black Swan" was done really well and blew the album version away, but the intensity came back around when they busted out "Skip Divided". Flea conjured up a melodica and laid down a snake charmer-esque melody for this creepy song. Yorke's droning, almost under-his-breath vocals, lend a dark element to counterpoint the melodic humming of Flea's Egyptian sounding instrument. Sharp hand drumming from Mauro Refosco drove the rhythm into dust as this terrifically strange song slithered to an end. "Skip" was followed, obviously, by my favorite song from the album, "Atoms For Peace". This song was played absolutely perfectly and gave me the chills as Yorke's voice was flawless and reached the rarified & ethereal peaks of the album, only with additional, incredible live show energy. This song was amazing and made me take note of how impeccable the sound quality in the Aragon was on this night. This venue is consistently one of the finest in Chicago and it was the ideal room to see this rare musical creature on a Sunday night.

Flea taunting a cobra during "Skip Divided".

After "Atoms", there were no more lulls in energy, it was nonstop musical chaos from there on out. The next 3 songs, "And It Rained All Night", "Harrowdown Hill" and "Cymbal Rush" were all packed with intensity and maintained some serious gravity in the Aragon. "And It Rained" featured some of Flea's finest bass work of the evening and made me wonder how the album would have sounded with his powerful brand of slapbass driving the spaceship."Harrowdown" was the best song of the night, or at least it was the song that gained the most energy in this setting. The album version always seems to sneak up on me, but the live version was like getting mowed down by a sonic bulldozer. Flea's funky bass stands out once again and the explosion in the climax of this song is as high as the energy can get-- it was a brain blaster and made me tremble all over with Music Bliss. The album portion of the show wrapped with "Cymbal Rush", another absolutely blistering song with a percussion breakdown that made me feel like I had a belly full of Spirit Vine and I was pounding my hooves around a primeval bonfire. This song was electric and capped the album with an epic intensity.

"And It Rained All Night" was stuck in my head all night.

There was a very short setbreak and Thom came back out for a little solo set. The first song "Lotus Flower" was a real weepy song and was a total Thom-out. I took this as an opportunity to hit the little boy's room. But while I was down there I heard the sweet sound of one of my favorite Radiohead songs, "Like Spinning Plates" begin to emerge. I sprinted up the stairs so that I could make it back to dance with Amy before the song ended. I made it and we had a wonderful moment-- it is one of her favorites as well. Thom ended the mini-Radiohead solo set with a powerful version of "Airbag" which got a nice gasp from the audience and really seemed to perk up the mostly subdued crowd.

Thom announced that it was "back to the present" as he summoned the rest of the band back on stage. They launched the set with a song I had never heard but really really liked. Apparently it was a Radiohead B-side called, "Paperbag Writer" but it was so bass-driven that I wrote in my notes that Flea must have played in big part in writing the song. Shows what I know! At any rate, this song was eerie again but with a funkier edge. It was some kind of hybrid musical beast that somehow combined a broad & potent bassline with the theme music from a horror movie. I loved it and Thom must have loved it too because he really seemed to shred during this song, looking almost like a belly-dancer as he gyrated at the mic stand.

INTENSE.

The show came to a close with 3 'new to me' songs, but the one that stood out was "Judge, Jury, and Executioner", Atoms For Peace's first collaborative effort as a band. This song was filled again with a Tungsten-dense energy and a sound my body couldn't help but move to. The lightshow really drove this song home as the stage descended into a Fresh Blood Red and the jagged lights above the stage seemed like giant knife wounds just pouring this thick red music out onto the crowd. It was really incredible and made my instinct to soak it all up kick in. This was an epic soundscape that felt like a lightning storm in a barren desert.

This show brought a level of intensity out of The Eraser that was shocking and really blew my mind. Despite the fact that tickets were $60 total and the show was only 80 minutes long, I felt like this was a rare experience that was well worth the price. The new songs continued on the right path and the solo Thom brought out the still-strong yet overshadowed Radiohead fan in me. All-in-all, this show was fan-fucking-tastic and I would love to see this band again, even as much as I'd like to see Radiohead. Coachella is gonna have a flock of brains hovering over the Indio Polo Grounds this weekend...

4.10.10 Galactic

I'm finally back! And not a moment too soon. Austin claims to have The Best Live Music Scene in the country but I couldn't disagree more. In fact, I thought it sucked really really bad. I couldn't wait to get back to Chicago, where the music scene is truly spectacular. And I really hit the ground running seeing as I had less than an hour between arriving in Chicago and heading to the first of 4 shows in 5 nights. Galactic was the first band on the docket and I was giddy with anticipation. I saw them at the Vic in February of 2009 and it was an awesome show... although a little bit too much hip-hop than I wanted for my first Galactic show. I had been checking out their 2010 setlists on their site and deduced that they were playing a much more funk-heavy show these days. Score!

Amy and I arrived to The Vic with an unexplored situation on our hands... I had been guestlisted and received a photo pass for this show! This is a first here at CJS and hopefully only the beginning of much, much more. I could hear the funk party start ripping as we were waiting in line for the tickets. We finally burst inside the venue (with a shocking lack of hassle from security) and stormed up front to stake out a spot. We settled in front of the stage right speakers to what must have been "Can I Be Your Main Squeeze?" and got in the groove immediately. Guest trombone killer/mic master Corey Henry was at the front of the stage throwing down the funk with Ben Ellman, the saxophone/harmonica man and energy leader of Galactic. Together they brought a dense & vibrant soul-funk vibe to the show. They ripped through what sounded like a classic, but was actually the first song from their new album Ya-Ka-May. It is called "Boe Money" and it is absolutely dripping with N'awlins energy.

L to R: Cyril Neville, Ben Ellman, Corey Henry

The next song began with Corey Henry announcing that the legend himself, Cyril Neville, would be making an appearance. The crowd gave a respectfully wild applause and welcomed the green silk-clad crooner onto the stage. The first Cyril song was called "No More Okey Doke" and heavily featured Cyril's syrupy voice. His sharp, yet viscous howl was accompanied by some of those absolutely gut-rumbling & blood-pumping Funk keyboards. Richard Vogel tore up the keys while Stanton Moore was drumming with one hand and tambourine-ing with the other-- reinforcing the well-rounded & finely-honed sound of Galactic. The next song, "You Don't Know" began with Cyril behind the djembes, but ended with him at the front of the stage, mic-in-hand. This man has such a smooth & commanding stage presence, it is hard to take your eyes off of him... but even harder to take your ears away. His voice is auditory candy and embodies what I have always romanticized about New Orleans soul.

Add the horn section from T-Bone & The Breaks... there is never enough funk.

Not long after Cyril's run in the spotlight, the band brought out the horn section from one of the opening bands, T-Bone & The Breaks. As if there wasn't enough magical horn music bounding off the stage, they had to go throw more gas on the fire... and this song was blazing. It was right about then that I got the familiar itch to wonder around the venue a little bit to scope out the scene and generally act shady. But once I started milling around, I was hit in the face with the dumptruck that is security at the Vic Theater. This place continues to hire a security force that you might find at the border in El Paso or Brownsville-- they have this place on lockdown and give many patrons the boot with extreme prejudice. It was weird to see people getting hassled at this show at all-- this was one of the coolest & cleanest crowds I have seen in some time. Galactic really pulls an eclectic group of people in and most of them seem like they now how to get down in respectful way.

The security honestly didn't bother me all that much on this night, I guess getting in for free is the ultimate pair of rose-colored glasses. We ended up sitting on a bench in the balcony just as the expanded horn section was wrapping up their portion of the show. The show didn't lose any steam, however, as the next song "La Di Da Di" brought the fucking thunder. The guitarist, Jeff Raines, finally got his chance to step up and shredded my face all to pieces. This guy is like a rabid wolverine trapped in a cage of horns & keys. When the band finally opens the Jam Door, he charges out, frothing at the strings and ready to chew his own leg off to explode your brain. Due to my penchant for heavy & shreddy space guitar, this song was one of the highlights of the show. From the vantage point of the balcony, we had a great view of the stage set-up and I must say, it was one of the coolest I've ever seen at the Vic. The bold "Ya-Ka-May" above the stage was cool and there were these fire-shaped screens on the stage that were lit up with lights & images. It was a really tasteful display and added just enough visual flurry to augment the sonic mayhem piling into my ears.

Kickass stage set-up... it was way more awesome in person.

Over the next few songs, the band kept the funk flowing freely. The classic "Ooh Naw Nay" had the crowd all atwitter and a few songs from the new album, "Wild Man" and "Bacchus", kept the show fresh & exciting... although with this show's energy & awesome crowd, they could have played some Kenny G and it would have been a good time. During this portion of the show, I really began to take note of the rhythm & flow of Stanton Moore. Long considered one of the finest drummers in the jam circuit, Moore really impressed me on this night with the deft control of the music he displayed on stage. His drumming style has a dense, tumbling quality about it and feels like a giant boulder bouncing down a hill. He seems to hit his drums very hard which lends a sharp & weighty vibe to his rhythm. Not many drummers seem to be in total control on stage, but you can tell Stanton is the man. He is an absolute powerhouse.

Cyril was back in charge with a song called "Gossip" that kept the jamfunk rolling, but thankfully brought back his violently tender vocal chops for us to enjoy. The song wrapped and Cyril got a thunderous applause. It seemed as if the show might be over but I could tell something awesome was about to happen. Ben seemed to wind-up like one of those little cars and dropped the plunger on a fast & furious "From The Corner To The Block". The lack of vocals in this song was A-OK by me as Ben whapped me up side the head with his sax, while Richard assualted me with his keyboards and bassist Robert Mercurio shook it all home with an extremely fuzzed-out bassline that made my entrails rumble with joy. Corey Henry looked like he might give us the rap, but instead lept into the crowd for a body surfing session. This ended the marathon, setbreak-less show and had my heart pounding, sweat rolling off my brow and a giant shit-munching grin slapped all over my face.

Righteous crowd surf by Corey Henry, badass Chicago crowd plays the waves.

Once again, it felt for a brief moment like the show would be over. But the house lights never went on and the band began to funnel back on stage. A wicked bassline set the tempo and Ben said, "I love hearing this bassline because it's the entry music for the Houseman." The Houseman is another crooner and got the encore off the ground with an awesome rendition of "Something's Wrong With This Picture". The next song is one of my personal favorites as I still jam out to Ruckus on a weekly basis. "Bittersweet" was an excellent selection from this album, but in some ways actually felt tame compared with the barrage of funk from the rest of the show. I was hoping for some more Ruckus, possibly a "Never Called You Crazy" or an "Uptown Odyssey", but alas, it seems as if Galactic only plays one song from this album per show. The show ended with another blast of funk called "Africa (New Orleans)" and wrapped the show the same way I walked into it-- nothing but pure, bone-rattling, brainpan-melting Funk. This last song was so funky it was like one of those lead vests you have to wear for dental x-rays. I was just surrounded by warm & dense soul-funk... almost weighed down my the music filling the air of the Vic. I never wanted to go home, I wanted to shred until sunrise...

The Houseman, killin' it.

On the way out of the venue I got to meet Stanton and had him autograph a poster for Amy & I. He was a rad dude and with any luck he will be back in Chicago this time next year to sign another poster for us. I told you not to miss this show...