push your old numbers

I'm a creature of rules, but if you happen to be a lifelong friend visiting me from afar, I'm more than willing to bend a few of them to spend time with you. Thus, it was off to enjoy a night in the Mission District, complete with burritos and '90s indie rock heroes Kristin Hersh and Grant-Lee Phillips, in the company of my old pal Jacki.

Kristin Hersh and Grant-Lee Phillips, the Chapel, March 29, 2018

About Jacki -- we saw a lot of music together back when she lived in the Bay Area, and in fact, she was my Grant Lee Buffalo buddy for a long time, seeing their shows all over the Bay Area. I'm not sure even she understands the magnitude of the concert we saw at Slim's in 1994. It kicked my ass and opened my eyes to the power of modern American indie music. If it weren't for that gig, I'm not sure I would've found my way to Wilco, and though I think I would've discovered Largo at some point, I doubt I'd have staked my claim when I did.

Fast-forward a jillion years, and she happened to schedule a visit when Kristin Hersh and Grant-Lee Phillips were in town. Of course that meant I had to break my not at all hard rule about seeing musicians from way back in my younger days. Bonus: My friend Jenn -- whom I had met in line while waiting to buy Jeff Tweedy tickets at the Fillmore, then ran into again months later at BOTH, where we were chatting for a good 20 or 30 minutes before we realized we had already met -- was there too!

If you read this blog regularly, you know I don't do a ton of research into gigs anymore. I buy the tickets, show up, and let the music work its magic. Based on the billing, I assumed this was a co-headlining tour, but didn't give much thought to how Kristin and Grant would share the stage. As it happened, we arrived mere minutes before Grant started his set, which was obviously good for us.

I've lost track of how many times I've seen Grant over the years, but it's been a while. To be frank, Largo grew and his audience did not. In addition, I heard that he's since moved out of the state, so he's less likely to drop in and hang out as he did back in the day.

What hasn't changed is his gorgeous, clear voice and the buoyant harmonies he favors. It was easy to get right back into his songs and his familiar banter. Unsurprisingly, he referenced the current political atmosphere and the songs he wrote in reaction to the 2016 election. His commentary wasn't heavy-handed, but even if it were, I wouldn't have minded. It's impossible to avoid, and I don't think you can underplay the disaster of this administration anyway. He also revisited the work of his old band with the magnificent "Mighty Joe Moon" and "Honey Don't Think," both of which remain transcendent.

Kristin Hersh was, in fact, the headliner and enjoyed a longer set than Grant. I have to admit I didn't listen to Throwing Muses during those years, despite their prestigious slot on the 4AD roster and the fact that Mori -- my dear friend and the biggest Anglophile I know -- actually liked them, American provenance and all. I don't have an explanation why, but hey, you can't listen to everything all the time. Now, of course, it's easier to see how she matched up against the songwriters of that time, and it's no mystery how she's stuck around all these years. Simply put, she has a distinct, original worldview and the craft to match it.

The ethereal Kristin Hersh at the Chapel, March 29, 2018

A post shared by pneyu (@pneyu) on Apr 6, 2018 at 2:19pm PDT

In their current incarnations, it can be hard to believe that Kristin and Grant arose from the same era and the same genre. Kristin addressed it herself in her opening remarks, where she contrasted Grant's happy, catchy songs with her heavier tracks. But listen in, and you'll hear an authentic record of modern life in their lyrics. And we're lucky to get to hear them over the years.

Seeing Kristin onstage, it hit me that she could be Gillian Welch's northern, hardscrabble cousin -- if you don't mind my mythologizing (and overlook the fact that Gillian grew up in Los Angeles with show-biz adoptive parents). I try not to fall into lazy generalizations, but again, give them a listen to their stories of lives lived away from the usual paths. You might hear it too.

Anyway, Kristin belied her sometimes unsettling songs with funny stories, including an interview she had done earlier that week with someone who she thought had clearly based their questions on her Wikipedia entry. She also shared a memory of driving away from her home in anger and encountering a man who was steering a snow tractor in circles. She concluded that he had probably done the same as her but had grabbed the other set of keys. And for those of us who like the hits, she did the peerless "Your Ghost."

Grant and Kristin concluded the show with a duet on one of her songs whose title escaped me, as well as some stories about their shared acquaintance. Their mutual friend John Doe came up in conversation, along with a mention of the days when VH1 actually showed their music videos. It's hard to believe these days, but it was all true for one glorious era.

See also:
» Take Me Home Country Pigeon
» i'm happy, hope you're happy too
» the shining hour

wasn't the question you asked

I've never been obsessed with being young -- not even when I was young -- but I've reached the stage where many of my favorites are hitting milestone ages. It's always a gut check, but if you're lucky, it can be a celebration too. Man, I'm glad that Spiral Stairs, aka Scott Kannberg per Pavement, decided to share his 50th annum with us, the unwashed masses.

Spiral Stairs' 50th Birthday featuring Stephen Malkmus and the Jicks, The Chapel, Oct. 1-2, 2016: The Clean were the original headliners for Saturday night, but for a reason I never learned, they couldn't make it. Also, Kelley Stoltz couldn't make it because he was touring with Echo and the Bunnymen, which is amazing news for such a talented guy. Thus, it became two nights of Stephen Malkmus and the Jicks, along with the accompanying Pavement expectations -- in due time.

For Your Pleasure -- a Roxy Music cover band -- opened on Saturday night, and they were great. They made no attempt to ape Roxy's sartorial style, but the lead singer came close enough to Bryan Ferry's tones, and the rest of the musicians held their own. Their song selection was fantastic, and I loved the hits as well as the deep cuts. ("Mother of Pearl"!) However, I laughed at the guy who complained about the lack of "In Every Dream Home a Heartache."

Honestly, I can't remember the second band from Saturday, and the opener on Sunday was fine, if not spectacular. All you need to know is the various musicians mixed and matched in each other's bands; it was those kind of shows -- basically a big house party with damn good tunes. In fact, as we hung around the back early on Saturday night, we saw various friends approach Scott/Spiral and heard a few mentioning high school.



I've already covered this in the blog, but I'm not a reunion person. Through no fault of the bands, reunion shows now make me sad and feel my age. I loved Pavement like few other bands and jumped on tickets when the first reunion shows went on sale. However, I never made it. I think I was out of town when the dates finally rolled around, but my mind was already made up at that point.

As for Stephen Malkmus and the Jicks, color me shocked that I haven't seen them since 2008! I know I missed a tour or two because I was too lazy to buy tix to more recent shows, and I think the band took a long hiatus somewhere in there. But I had no idea it's been that long. I've said this before, but Malkmus strikes me as this era's Robyn Hitchcock: the leader of an underappreciated seminal band who goes on to a much weirder later career.

I'd be lying if I said I loved the more recent stuff, and it was hard to dial into the superextended guitar noodling passages that seemed to characterize every song. In fact, I'm not sure they did anything from the first couple of records, which are the ones I listened to the most.



But that's not the point, because this was Spiral/Scott's birthday, and they basically presented him with a musical birthday card. They sprinkled in several songs that influenced his own music career, including tracks from the Clean, the Stranglers, and of course, Echo and the Bunnymen. On the second night, Stephen commented Saturday's proceedings basically amounted to a high-school sausage party -- which we had suspected all along -- but from the outside, it seemed like a very sweet gift to an old friend.

Oh right, the Pavement tracks: Everyone knew they were coming, and several of the more enthusiastic attendees started in with the requests early on. Too bad -- Scott and Stephen had a plan, and they were sticking with it. It took me a few tunes before I realized the criteria: They were doing Scott's tracks, not random Pavement songs. It made sense on every level, so we got most of Scott's titles, along with one from Preston School of Industry and a tune from his new project. "Date with Ikea" made both nights, and one of my absolute favorite Pavement songs, "Kennel District," made the cut. In fact, the song jogged my memory and reminded me that I used to see Scott at a million shows in town. Those were the days.

The two semi-surprises the first night were "Summer Babe" and "Stereo," though in retrospect, I guess the latter gave Scott a great chance to take the role usually claimed by Bob Nastanovich. Neither are Scott compositions per se, but I'll take them both. They were smart enough to mete out the tunes and give us "Two States" the second night, along with fan favorite "Box Elder." By the way, none other than GARY FUCKING JOHNSON joined them for the tune and finished off his portion with the requisite headstand. No, he isn't looking well.



Even I have to admit a reunion show can be a ton of fun, and I couldn't stop singing the songs or thinking about how much I love(d) Pavement. You know how it is -- now that all of my music is on my iPhone, I'm too lazy to swap out songs. It's easy to forget I have the entire Pavement discography at the ready, if only I remember to check some boxes now and again. I'll do that tonight, I swear.

Happy 50th to you, Scott/Spiral. Thanks for sharing it with the rest of us.

See also:
» richard avedon would surely approve
» pre-easily fooled
» used to be one of the rotten ones

deep rivers run quiet

Hey, I remember keeping a regular blog! I'd better get in these concert reports now before the baseball season claims me again. This week, Black Rivers visited the Chapel on their short debut tour in the United States.

Black Rivers, the Chapel, March 26, 2015: I'm so out of the habit of reading music magazines that I have no idea if Doves have broken up, except that I haven't seen any notification from, say, the mailing list. I mean, I know Jimi Goodwin has a solo record, and now the two remaining members (also, brothers/twins) have Black Rivers, but the band could be taking a break, right? Also, does any band break up anymore? What reunion tour isn't around the corner? I'm too lazy to investigate, but I'm not so lazy that I won't at least go to their show and find out for myself.

It's been long enough since the last Doves show I saw that I don't mind repeating that I love them. I've traveled for them, dammit! (Granted, that doesn't necessarily mean a ton with my rock tourism habits.) In 2000, Badly Drawn Boy's The Hour of Bewilderbeast and Doves' Lost Souls were a one-two punch from moody Mancunian tunesmiths, and they ruled my MP3 player for months on end. I still listen to them all the time for emotional sustenance, not to mention they're one of the few bands in my music collection that would qualify as booty music (yes, Mancs and Canucks fill out my booty music bracket).

However, I haven't listened to either Black Rivers or Jimi Goodwin's solo work; given the choice of studio output vs. the live experience, my limited disposable income goes to the gig. Thus, I wasn't sure what to expect from the show, but never fear. Black Rivers' songs reminded me why I love Doves so much. The cinematic arrangements and atmospheric feel were intact, with maybe more of a rocking feel. Then again, that could've been my proximity to the stage and the blaring mix from the guitar monitor.



I've always wondered how the division of labor works in Doves -- who is most responsible for which touches, whether anyone leads a specific charge. Of course, each musician has a main instrument: Jimi on bass and most vocals, Jez on lead guitar, and Andy on drums, the latter two occasionally taking a turn on the mic too. Also, it's not like the lyrics are Dylanesque or mine a deep auteur's vein (not an insult). Black Rivers didn't shed much light on the question. Jez took all lead vocals, but the songs were close enough to Doves trademark material that you could probably mistake them for each other in a blind listening test.

Not helping the situation: Black Rivers did a couple of Doves songs, but not the ones with Jez or Andy on lead vocals. For example, "Jetstream" and "Here It Comes" are two of my favorite Jez and Andy vocals, but instead, they did "Rise" and "Black and White Town." "Pounding" was also on the list, but they didn't get to it. Further muddying the picture, Black Rivers used the same keyboardist they had on the last Doves tour. As you can imagine, the Doves tracks got a big reception from the crowd.

I have a confession here: The sound at the front, namely the vocals, was terrible, and I could barely make out a word of the lyrics or the banter, and it had nothing to do with the Manc accents. Like many other British bands on their first tour of the United States, Black Rivers is used to playing much bigger rooms in the United Kingdom, and the sound suffered for it. Hey, it gives you something to look forward to on the next tour -- if they will be back, so will I.



By the way, I had no idea how of the size of this tour before I got to the show. It sounds like they did only a few very small shows in California after SXSW, and San Francisco was the last stop on the road. And after the gig, I had an almost Broad City-like (apologetic, drunk pissing dude; drunk, supine, rolling woman) adventure getting home, so hats off to Black Rivers for briefly interrupting my life as a shut-in. You guys are totally worth two bus rides, transfer included!

See also:
» doubles up and comes back Mondays
» here comes the action
» seems that I've been waiting here forever
» talking trash under your breath

the cub who washed out in the flood

I promise to see more shows this year. I'm even buying advanced tickets again! Alas, scheduling conflicts and work demands forced me to miss a couple of enticing gigs earlier this year, but the irresistible combination of Eric D. Johnson (ex-Fruit Bats) and the Chapel finally forced me out of the apartment.

Eric D. Johnson, the Chapel, February 18, 2015: If you've spent a decent amount of time with me, particularly in Los Angeles or New York, you know I'm alarmingly adept at spotting semi-famous faces. For example, some friends still laugh at the time I recognized the author Rick Moody at a Wilco show (granted, in San Diego, but close enough). Hey, sorry for paying attention to dust jacket photos! Anyway, I bring this up because earlier that week I had noticed Eric himself on Clement Avenue, which happens to be my stomping grounds. It probably helped that he was wearing a hat with his own logo, but I can't lie -- it's my weird talent (?) too.

I probably shouldn't have been too surprised, as Eric has a history in San Francisco, including long-standing friendships with local acts. Heck, the last time I saw him in concert was at the Robyn Hitchcock birthday gig, his Instagram shows a lot of shots taken in the North Bay, and he even shared a story of the Fruit Bats' first gig in San Francisco at Bottom of the Hill, many years ago. As he explained it, local favorites Court & Spark opened, and the majority of the audience left at the end of their set. Thus, Fruit Bats played to a handful of friends, and Eric fell off the stage. I had to wonder if I was there?* As I've mentioned at every chance I get, I was at a Fruit Bats gig in San Francisco in 2003, and they pulled off an unforgettable cover of "Purple Rain." Hell, I'll include the pic again.



The Fruit Bats have, of course, disbanded, and Eric now goes by EDJ, which sounds rather close to EDM. I won't belabor the comparison, but you could argue the new solo arrangement might have more electronic touches. That is, Eric is by himself onstage, playing guitar, keyboard, and harmonica, but aided by loopers and prerecorded backing tracks. Don't worry, though -- it's the same folky psych rock you've come to know and love from EDJ.

When I listen to Fruit Bats, I can be lulled into a blissful state by Eric's silky vocals and the unhurried pace of the songs. Thus, I'm kind of surprised when I see them/him in concert and realize how rocking they can be. Eric didn't hold back, pounding on the keys and thrashing away enough on the guitar that he broke a string at one point.



I can't comment on the new solo tracks, but Fruit Bats faithful may be pleased to hear that Eric did two old songs. The first was "Dolly," and it moved the indie audience to dance around -- even the hipsters you'd never expect to show any emotion. The second title was the closer and crowd pleaser, "When You Love Somebody." You can rest assured we all jumped around for that one.

I can't not talk about Eric's voice at any show, and this gig is no exception. He's probably the closest to a crooner among the musicians I like, and I would pay good money to hear him cover George Jones. In fact, I regularly cycle through a handful of Fruit Bats covers on my iPhone. As long as those pipes are intact, I'll continue to find my way to his gigs, whether or not I know what he plans to pay. What are the chances he'll do "Purple Rain" again?

* At the end of the gig, Eric promised to come out into the crowd and mingle, and I could've easily confirmed my suspicions about that Bottom of the Hill appearance. Alas, I didn't stick around for long after the show, as I had just enough time to catch the bus home, and you DO NOT pass up an on-schedule 33 Stanyan late at night.

See also:
» i was a new york doll
» she couldn't dance but she wanted to
» waiting for the rainbow sign

extra sugar, extra salt, extra oil, and MSG

Where does the time go?? For starters, I had to survive both the NLDS and the NLCS, and now that the calm has temporarily descended until the World Series begins, I can turn my attention to loose ends. There's absolutely no reason for me to post this review -- other than for personal record keeping -- especially two weeks after the fact, but I might as well finish up my Hardly Strictly coverage with Cibo Matto at the Chapel.

Cibo Matto, the Chapel, Oct. 4, 2014: Speaking of the NLDS, we tore ourselves away from the game during the 14th inning to make our way across town to this show. On the 22 Fillmore, we got news of Brandon Belt's homer at the top of the 18th, but the walk down Valencia was a showcase of my most schizophrenic urges, as I stuck my head in every doorway with a TV, while at the same time denying I needed to watch the remainder of the game. Fortunately, we arrived at the Chapel during the last at-bat, where the Giants struck out the Nationals and capped a 6-hour-plus contest. The room erupted, and we were still in time to catch the opening band. I wonder if Cibo Matto had any idea how the audience might've welcomed them otherwise ...

I was excited for this show, as their set at Hardly Strictly the day before wasn't enough for me. To start, the night was a lot cooler, even in the Mission. The sold out crowd was probably at least as cozy, but based on overheard conversations and random chatter, it seemed a lot of us had NLDS energy to dance off.

As expected, Cibo Matto turned out a longer version of their festival set, bringing back many of the tunes and the banter (Big Sur, nature, water). At one point, Yuka's setup stalled, and Miho went slightly off-script to give her time, but I'm pretty sure the audience welcomed the extra chatter. I loved seeing Yuka and Miho's dance moves close up, and you couldn't help but smile at the sight of the entire band springing up and down in unison (kinda).

I have no idea why this surprised me, but judging by the fans directly around me, Cibo Matto has a fair-sized following among gay men. What can I say? It was the '90s, and despite obvious female and gay figureheads among the major recording artists, the indie rock scene was dominated by straight white men. Anyway, I had a blast to be disabused of my notions among this adoring, reverent, and energetic crowd.

No-brainer No. 2: I think this is the first time Nels Cline has officially toured with Cibo Matto, and his influence was all over their sound. Cibo Matto has always been known for its unusual, unpredictable hybrid rhythms, but Nels jolted the pace from time to time with hard notes and sonic slaps across your earholes. This should surprise no one that songs both old and new sounded almost exactly as you'd expect when you cross Cibo Matto and Nels Cline. However, if you're expecting the Nels Cline show, think again -- this was all Cibo Matto, albeit the 2014 incarnation.

On our way out, we ran into a few familiar faces scheduled to appear at the festival the next day. It was lovely to see them, but honestly, we had the equivalent of an 18-inning game awaiting us the next day. Still, "Birthday Cake" might qualify as a walk-off closer, as far as gigs go.

See also:
» summer noon

her heart beats like a breezeblock

The drive home late Monday night required me to carefully navigate the dark curves of Highway 17 when all I really wanted to do was blast "The Loneliness and the Scream" on repeat, stick my head out the window, and yell along to the song, all while driving 100mph. However, safety required only one of those was possible, especially if I wanted to live long enough to catch the final show of the Owl John tour in San Francisco the following night.

Owl John, the Chapel, June 24, 2014: I complain a lot about San Francisco's current dot-com boom, but one big difference between this gold rush and its '90s predecessor is the fact that more clubs and venues seem to be opening around town, unlike all the threatened closings of the previous round. You can include the Chapel as one of the new spots, and embarrassingly, I hadn't yet made it out there. I was finally ready to fix the error of my ways with the Owl John show.

The Chapel was probably the biggest club on this tour and I'm guessing the grandest, though it still was small enough to feel warm and exclusive. It might've had the best turnout too -- a huge step up from the Crepe Place and even the tiny Echo. Frightened Rabbit has always enjoyed a solid following in San Francisco, and Owl John continued this tradition.

On this larger stage, Scott returned to the electric guitar, and now as an Owl John veteran, I noticed a few familiar patterns. "Old Old Fashioned" kicked off the proceedings, complete with appreciative whoops when the audience recognized the tune, and "Poke" and "Keep Yourself Warm" dominated the early requests, only to be saved for a later slot.

With three shows in my pocket, I'd had a better chance to listen to the new songs, particularly "Los Angeles, Be Kind" and "A Good Reason to Grow Old." Your guess is as good as mine as to how they'll sound with full studio resources behind them, but from what I could tell, the frank, aching lyrics are intact. At least on the latter track, they're openly romantic ... for the first time ever? I'll be listening when the record drops.

In terms of the set, "State Hospital" made the cut again, and it sounded a lot better on electric than acoustic guitar (sorry, Crepe Place). A new friend and I tried to do the backing vocals for "The Wrestle," which caught Scott's attention enough that he encouraged everyone who knew the backing vocals to join in. Unfortunately, the only audible reaction seemed to come from a group of ladies who screamed in the chorus. I'm pretty sure other people were singing in their corners, but the combination of the room, the electric guitar, and our proximity may have drowned out their contributions.

The special track of the night was "Behave," dedicated to a friend who believed in the band long before anyone else picked up on them. Take note, anyone who wants to hear a song from the first record.



Another observation: I don't think Scott likes to do "Fast Blood," though it comes up as a request all the time. Granted, I'm judging from a small sample size, but I've seen this at Frightened Rabbit gigs too. I'd love to hear it, but I won't assume it's a staple at every show.

Scott was again highly talkative, even before a lady in the audience informed him his fly was down, a full six songs into the set. Standing front and center, we had noticed it too, but how do you bring up the topic? I'll file that away for the next encounter. At first, he was embarrassed, claiming he had nightmares about such a scenario. Then he turned defiant and leaned into it, but ultimately, opted for decorum (fly up).

This being San Francisco, he also fielded a declaration of lust from a male audience member who yelled -- I quote -- "I want you inside me." Scott obliged to a certain extent, offering earhole access and no looking, as well as keys to his hotel room.

As expected, the news that he now lived in Los Angeles didn't go well in San Francisco, but as he explained, he moved there because he fell in love ... with Miley Cyrus, whom he tweets every day, but she doesn't reply. It was actually a very sweet moment. He also later admitted that everyone knew San Francisco was the cooler city, which seemed to excuse his actions for the time being.



I noted 21 songs at this show as well, but the sheer volume of chatter pushed this gig toward and maybe even over the two-hour mark. I stayed for every second of it, down to the now familiar closing trio of "The Loneliness and the Scream," "Poke," and "Keep Yourself Warm." The crowd picked up on the clapping for "Loneliness," though Scott warned us not to go too fast, and we filled in where we could on the last two tracks. We did respectably well, though we still trailed Los Angeles in that regard by a ways.

Dan Wilson from Withered Hand opened all the shows, and it was easy to see the affinity between Withered Hand and Frightened Rabbit. They both favored sharp, self-deprecating lyrics with a contemporary outlook, and Dan even name-checked the Silver Jews. Dan's performances had also grown stronger over the course of the tour, and by San Francisco, he simply sounded great. He reminded me a lot of Badly Drawn Boy, which is a high compliment in my book.

In Santa Cruz, Scott pointed out that he'll be back when the album comes out, and in each city, he casually mentioned that he could do shows easily, now that he lived just down the road. "Easy" is probably an exaggeration, but Scott has proven his mettle as a road warrior. I look forward to seeing him in yet another remote location. I hear Pioneertown and Big Sur are awesome!

Owl John in California
» Los Angeles: four worn-out limbs and not one love song
» Santa Cruz: give me soft, soft static

See also:
» let's get old fashioned
» all possibilities