i'm so grateful

Every October, we in the Bay Area are forced to make hard choices, some of which can tear you apart. I hated deciding between the Hardly Strictly Bluegrass Festival and the last Giants home games of the year (postseason or no) -- so I split the difference. Fortunately, I was able to get to two days of the festival and catch a bunch of awesome acts.

Hardly Strictly Bluegrass Festival, Oct. 2-4, 2015: How relaxed was I to start off the festival? I took the day off from work to enjoy unfettered access to all the music I desired, yet didn't leave my place until 4 pm. Even then, I totally misread the schedule -- I thought the Punch Brothers started at 4:30, but in fact, they were onstage at 4:10. By the time I arrived at the Banjo Stage, they'd probably been playing for a good five minutes or so.

The early impression was not pretty. As I waded through the crowd at Banjo -- which I've told myself over the years I never want to do -- I had to wonder why bother at all. I mean, I've seen the Punch Brothers a bunch of times now, including in very close quarters, and though I like their music, I'm not gaga for them. Nonetheless, I soldiered on and settled in for about 20 minutes of their set, including the perpetually fun "Rye Whiskey," but I had to abandon ship after the Debussy number. Nothing against Debussy, but I realized the Punch Brothers' set doesn't vary enough for me to put up with the masses. However, they are certified crowd pleasers and a natural fit for Hardly Strictly Bluegrass.

The early exit from the Punch Brothers left me plenty of time to get to the much less congested Arrow Stage for Big Star Third. To my delight, it was low-key and mellow, I found a great spot, and -- most important -- I spotted Frank Riley, the man who's booked probably a million shows you've loved. Weekend complete! Well, not quite, but it was a nice item to check off early in the festivities.



Have I gone on record on this blog claiming album-in-their-entirety shows are passe? I stand by it, but I also reserve the right to make exceptions. I think every music nerd can remember the first time they heard Big Star. I'm pretty sure it happened to me at Largo, but of course Alex Chilton was already a legendary name courtesy of the Replacements. Over the years, I've grown more appreciative of Big Star, and their songs can haunt my brain for days on end.

In case you aren't familiar, Big Star Third is a roving assemblage of musicians playing Sisters Lovers, appropriately enough Big Star's third record. I'm too lazy to look up the core members, but it appears Chris Stamey and Jody Stephens are at the center of the group, and the day's gathering included such illustrious names as Mike Mills, Ken Stringfellow, and Pat Sansone, along with local favorites Chuck Prophet and Kelley Stoltz, not to mention Van Dyke Parks leading the Kronos Quartet and other guests whose names escape me.

As usual, I didn't take notes, so I can't tell you who sang what, but I can report they all sounded great. Seriously -- those were divine voices onstage, in a festival full of divine voices. I loved seeing the local faces, which provoked one man near me to inquire about Kelley Stoltz. Another concertgoer helpfully informed him of Kelley's awesome work over the years. Here's hoping the first fellow acted on the knowledge.

Jody Stephens' turns at the mic were especially charming, as he shared his gratitude and his memories with the crowd. As a fan, you had to love seeing a little bit of the original voices in the room. The extra touches -- the aforementioned Van Dyke Parks and Kronos Quartet, as well as a range of horns -- were wonderful too and hardly the grand treatment you'd expect at a free so-called bluegrass festival. But that's another reason to love Hardly Strictly.

I can't lie -- the "hits" were my favorites, and it was even great to hear a version of "Holocaust" that came in at less than 30 minutes. Here's a tip: Don't turn down the chance to hear "Femme Fatale," "September Gurls," or "Thank You Friends" performed by a dozen-odd top-shelf musicians.

Saturday was a little more purposeful, but hardly harried, as the first act I wanted to see happened to be on the smallest, most mellow stage. You'd be hard-pressed to label Nels Cline and Julian Lage as bluegrass in any way -- and that's fine! They still commanded a good audience over at the cozy, laidback Porch Stage. I can't begin to describe their music, except that they touch on a wide range of styles. While much of their set consisted of complex but effortless interplay, what I loved best were the moments where one would simply let the other go and intently observe, no strings touched. It's a beautiful example of trust and admiration.

From there, with a lot of help, we got to a great spot for Gillian Welch and David Rawlings -- which never happens for me. I was ready to be annoyed by my spot somewhere in the middle of the massive field, but Sandy came through with the connection and the moxie to get us to a prime location.

Have I talked enough about how much I love Gill and Dave? Can I make it any clearer? It's been too long since I've seen them, and even a few notes into their set, I was in heaven again. I think they did one new song, but they can sing the phone book in harmony, and I'd listen. They appeared to add another new cover to their repertoire: a version of "Mr. Tambourine Man" they worked up for their recent appearance at the Newport Folk Festival. The highlight for me remained "I'll Fly Away," which moved tons of people to get up from their lawn chairs and sing along. The singalongs get me every time.



From there, I vaguely tried to check out Paul Weller, but I couldn't be bothered past a song and decided to head over to the Robyn Hitchcock set at the Bandwagon Stage -- a new, tiny stage fashioned out of an Airstream-like trailer. As you can imagine, it was a very informal, casual set. Emma Swift joined him for a few songs, and they even soundchecked Roxy Music's "Oh Yeah," though alas, it didn't make the final set. (Sigh.) The best part of Robyn's set was his running claim that every song was set in 1970s San Francisco, even as he admitted it was really about his relationship with his mother. Look, there's no way to capture the aura of a Robyn Hitchcock gig or monologue, which is why you have to see him with our own eyes. Do yourself the favor!



And thus ended my Hardly Strictly adventure for the year. Fortunately, Rocktober is still in effect, so a couple more reports will filter in over the weeks. Once again, all the appreciation in the world goes to the late Warren Hellman and family. I'm continually amazed we get to partake of this treat year after year.

See also:
» tripping the dark fantastic
» don't get around much anymore
» i've heard a rumor from ground control
» Gillian, David, Sean, Sara, Jon, Greg
» that's the way the cornbread crumbles
» overtook me by surprise

she couldn't dance but she wanted to

Back at home and if I'm going to get over this post-concert depression, the best way to do it is with another show. This time, it's the heavenly Fruit Bats at the Independent.

Fruit Bats, the Independent, April 26, 2012: This is how incredibly out of it I am when it comes to the Fruit Bats. I was vaguely aware of Eric Johnson's stint with the Shins, but I had no idea the Decemberists recently covered "When U Love Somebody," though that totally explains why the entire crowd got into the song, including the guy who didn't appear to speak another word of English over the course of the night. If the price of admission were a pop quiz on the band, I never would've been allowed entrance, barring acceptance of a wobbly rendition of "Rainbow Sign."

Fruit Bats have been vastly underrepresented in this blog and, well, in my life, considering how much I love Mouthfuls and the first gig I saw of theirs at Bottom of the Hill approximately 100 years ago (or 2003 -- photo evidence presented below!) populated mainly by the musicians' friends, who requested both "Buffalo and Deer" and one of the best covers of "Purple Rain" I've ever heard. Since then, I've caught them only one other time, probably because they had a habit of playing here on the weekends I was out of town, in all likelihood pursuing my other musical interests. For obvious reasons, I'm not including the Eric Johnson sighting from a couple of years ago at a Wilco aftershow in Portland entirely peopled by indie rockers and food cart vendors. In short, I needed to hit this gig!



I don't think any dedicated music fan can or cares to distill their favorite songs to one element or characteristic, but if I had to name a common feature among my most beloved bands/performers, it has to be the voice. Granted, my idea of a great voice probably wouldn't pass muster on any of the TV competition shows, and I doubt I can come up with a consistent definition for what constitutes golden vocals. Also, it never hurts if those dulcet tones are matched to lilting melodies, jangly guitars, a driving rhythm, and maybe airy piano. Ultimately, as a nonmusician, I like to sing along, so the voice is my hook.

Eric Johnson, as leader of the Fruit Bats, possesses my Platonic ideal of a pop voice -- like, if it were up to me, his croon would've gone out on Voyager to represent the apex of our culture to alien species (probably). I've compared him to Neil Finn in the past, but if Neil brings to mind Paul McCartney, Eric's pipes take me back a decade. I can hear him helming classic Buddy Holly tracks, though I'm pretty sure he can handle almost anything you throw his way.

I've read enough YouTube and AV Club comments to know I'm not alone in this regard, and maybe the band got the memo too because the show opened with Eric on his own on electric guitar. I can't tell you what the song was because (1) I don't take notes during shows (except when that one fellow in Los Angeles is headlining), and (2) I don't own the new record. In fact, I've been pretty slack about keeping up with the Fruit Bats for the last few records, but that's about to change now that I've seen the error of my ways.

I still think of Fruit Bats as a folk group, probably due to the memories of that first, bare-bones show, despite the ample evidence of their full, lush arrangements. More generally, Fruit Bats often get lumped into the befuddling Americana genre; sure, they're known to play a banjo, but the production work on their early records wouldn't necessarily lead you down that path. I don't think the new songs are going to put much distance between them and this current pigeonhole (namechecking Michael Landon in your onstage banter doesn't help either), but on this outing, you couldn't ignore their rocking qualities. I'm intrinsically drawn to the bubbling grace notes, but the bluesy troughs and aggro excursions made a strong impression. Don't worry, though; on one track, the band crafted three-part harmonies right in front of our eyes -- not necessarily a rarity, but it's still a sight to behold and, er, be-hear. I'm pretty sure that song was, in fact, "Rainbow Sign."

Sub Pop label mate and local legend Kelley Stoltz was second on the bill. He's another guy whose gigs have a way of eluding me, though I saw him open for British Sea Power in 2005, and there's always the Echo and the Bunnymen tribute show with Spiral Stairs that originated in San Francisco long ago.

Anyway, back to Kelley: I always do a double take whenever his songs come up on shuffle -- the depth and richness of his tracks never fail to stand out from the crowd. As a support act, Kelley's portion was limited to 45 minutes, so he didn't get to some requests, notably "Wave Goodbye," which I would've loved to hear too.

The centerpiece of his show were the two tracks from his single, "Caroline" and "Marcy." As Kelley explained it, "Caroline" was sort of a tribute to all songs sharing that name, in whatever form, and it bore the signs of that lineage. Its retro feel was evident, but somehow, he makes it sound modern too. We also got a new track Kelley and the band had worked up just a couple of days before, a murky, psychedelic number, filling out a night of classic songwriting, catchy melodies, and artful arrangements.

I probably say this all the time, but I mean it: Gentlemen, please play again and let me correct the error of my ways.

See also:
» waiting for the rainbow sign
» from the books you don't read anyway

from the books you don't read anyway

Today is a sad, sad day for me, as my iPod decided to go crazy. Despite my every attempt, it refuses to resuscitate, so I'll try a couple of measures tomorrow, then it'll be off to the *gasp* repair shop. I'll probably just cry on my auntie's shoulder and whine to her until she takes the thing back to her client/Apple guy. Boo hoo. Fortunately, I've come off a simultaneously exhilirating and exhausting week of cool shows, and I will gladly reveal the details below.

Wilco, Price Center Ballroom, April 29, 2005: Though San Diego is the second-biggest city in California and 200 miles away from the heart of Los Angeles, it seems to enjoy an entirely different lifestyle from its much gaudier northern neighbor. So when Wilco announced a show at (basically) a conference room on the UCSD campus, I couldn't resist, especially as it also meant sharing a couple of days with some of my favorite rock tourists. We got in Thursday and enjoyed a wonderful meal at Jake's by the Sea in Del Mar (on my cousin Khang's suggestion), followed by a nightcap at the historic Hotel del Coronado. I was loving every second of Heidi's reports of the recent Jon Brion whirlwind in New York, and it just made me more excited that I have a reservation to his show on Friday the 13th (cue Psycho theme). And Paul, well, when aren't I glad to see him? Of course, the last time we were hanging out, it was back on the Continent, halfway around the world, but variety is the spice of life. Heh heh.

The UCSD campus is gorgeous and a great place to spend the day. Yes, San Diego indeed has beautiful weather: warmer than my corner of the world but nowhere as oppressive as Los Angeles. We soaked in the sun and the breeze and the eucalyptus scent in the air. Sigh. One of the student organizations was setting up a luau for the evening, something called the Ring of Fire. As the day progressed, we noticed that the ring was a misnomer--it turned out to be more of a copper bowl of fire, though I don't think it mattered to the participants. We were kinda sad to miss the interactive drum circle, but we had other obligations.

The Price Center is quite small. We estimated perhaps 1,000 capacity. However, it's as flat as a pancake, and the stage was quite low, so I felt bad for anyone shorter than 5'5" and farther than five rows back. Of course, this was not our problem. The openers, Polar Goldie Cats, were totally fun and, unsurprisingly, had a feline theme going on. I recognized their bass guitarist as Bob Bruno, former tech to Jon Brion. That explained why I haven't seen him at Largo lately!

The single highlight of Wilco's set was probably "Bob Dylan's Beard," on which Nels used a new guitar. It was quite small, especially on his lanky frame, and shaped almost like a harp. Regardless, he sounded great, and Jeff teased him about his new toy. I'm always excited to hear "Misunderstood," and I think we were pretty convincing on "Political Science," but I really, really dig "Something in the Air." I think it has to do with the way all three singers belt out the vocals and how good it feels to sing right along with them. It's such a simple song, too, but I clearly recall feeling soooooo good when they played that song.

After the show, we got a chance to say hi, and I noticed Rick Moody hanging out with the band, though I didn't get to talk to him. Demonology is a great book, if you haven't read it. And even better, it's a short story collection, so you don't have to slog through too many chapters to get to the pay-off (though the last story involves a patented Rick Moody recurring theme). After that, it was off with my cousin to Roberto's for the promised carne asada fries. Meanwhile, back at the hotel, Brianne had brought the vaunted crancheddar, and we had been snacking on Heidi's Dancing Deer flavors. That's living, folks. ;) To top it all off, we spent the wee hours of the morning celebrating Trish's birthday. The McCormicks are such awesome people; I love counting them as my friends, neighbors, and fellow music nerds.

British Sea Power, the Independent, April 30, 2005: For a self-proclaimed music nerd, I have a weird history with rock festivals in the United States. I've been to a few of them (the original Gathering of the Tribes, the precursor to Lollapalooza; All Tomorrow's Parties; WOMAD), but I've completely skipped all the big ones over the years, the ones that will inevitably show up in history books down the line. I still haven't gone to Coachella, though it's in my own state, partly because all of the bands I really want to see tend to stop in San Francisco either before or after the big show. This was again the case, and British Sea Power was the first of the Coachella-related bands on my gig list.

I seriously love this band. My fate was sealed at that first show I saw, when I didn't know a whole lot about them except that they were British and playing Bottom of the Hill. But when I noticed the taxidermy onstage and saw the guitarist (who I didn't know was a member of the band at the time) positioning fresh foliage on the amps, I was definitely intrigued. When they hit the boards in cricket uniforms and looking like British schoolboys from the early 1900s, I was ready to paste their photos to the inside of my locker. And when they went nuts during the show, turning cartwheels, giving each other piggyback rides, and so on--well, I wanted to change my last name to Sea Power at that point. It also didn't hurt that their songs paid powerful homage to the '80s bands I loved, with a huge debt to Echo and the Bunnymen.

I like the new album, "Open Season," even if it doesn't have the same punk energy as the first album. To my ears, the guitars sound so cool on this one--fluid yet cutting and just so damn melodic. Tom hears notes of Kitchens of Distinction in the album, and though I can't fully agree with him, I can see where he's coming from. But it would take a much worse record to deter me from catching them in concert again.

Before BSP took the stage, we first saw sets by Kelly Stoltz and the Heavenly States, both local bands. I've seen Kelly before, though in his Echo and the Bunnymen-aping incarnation with Spiral Stairs. He did a great short set, and I decided I need to buy his CDs soon. San Francisco has too many "states" bands, and I couldn't remember if I had seen the Heavenly variety. They weren't my thing--a little emo in parts, a little Green Day in others--but they had great energy.

On to the headliners: I noticed what looked like a wooden pheasant on the side of the stage before the show, but it never made its way front and center. However, the foliage was present, and we could smell the pine scent emanating from the freshly shorn branches. The stage was set.

The show was a good mix of the early punkier material and the new, mellower songs. They did my two favorite songs from the new one, "North Hanging Rock" and "Larsen B" (about an ice shelf!), as well as the earlier hits. They managed to play it pretty straight for most of the show until the very last medley, a monster of a performance. Yan had been wearing a red scarf tied around his knee, but he removed it early in the show. Meanwhile, Hamilton kept his on. I'm not sure if technical problems were involved, but Noble, the guitarist, put away his guitar and at first crowdsurfed. When he returned to the stage, he picked up Yan's discarded scarf and proceeded to blindfold Yan. He did the same to all the other band members except the drummer. For himself, he tied the arms of his jacket around his eyes. It was a glorious mess by the end.

I find that we're ridiculously lucky to have hosted this little UK band three times already. I've always urged people to take advantage of these circumstances while they can, and BSP has once again proved to me that I can't possibly miss them when they come to town.

Gang of Four, the Fillmore, May 3, 2005: I've seen more reunion shows than I thought I'd ever bother with, but sometimes, you can't say no. I own one album (yes, on vinyl) from Gang of Four, but in light of the recent rash of imitator bands, I welcomed the chance to see them for myself.

I can't comment that much on the music, as I'm not that familiar with their work, other than the hits, but no, they didn't play "I Love a Man in a Uniform," though it had apparently turned up the first night. Still, they played with tons of energy, and we had a great time playing "what band ripped off this song" game. The first track was clearly cribbed by Bloc Party, and one other song was half of the Franz Ferdinand album. We were curious to see the tech setting up and miking a microwave before the band took the stage; it later turned out to be a percussive element, and a very convincing one at that. Tom said you could tell which songs were from the horrible second album, and as he mentioned that, I realized it wasn't my imagination that some of the songs sounded alarmingly arena rock, far from the art punk that I associate with the band. But perhaps the most enjoyable aspect of the evening was watching how many people were seriously into the music and who were so moved by the show. I'm an unapologetic fangirl, so it's nice to see that same enthusiasm (I hope other people see it as enthusiasm) shared by others. This time, I was happy to stand at the side.

Coldplay, the Fillmore, May 4, 2005: I don't want to sound apologetic about my fondness for Coldplay. I like them. I don't love them, but I think they're far from the scourge of the current music scene. Granted, I don't own the second album, but then again, they don't need me to buy another copy. Of course I wanted to get tix to the Fillmore show when they first went on sale, and though I was denied, I still wanted to go to this truly intimate show, especially since I have no plans to see them when they come back to play the arenas and amphitheaters. Fortunately, I got in, thanks to leaving work early, waiting about 3 hours in the drizzle, and being #25 for 33 available tickets. Yippee!

There was no opening act, and the Fillmore stage looked strangely sparse. We were right at the front barrier, in front of Johnny. I love hearing his guitar, so I was glad we got that spot. Chris's piano was right in the middle, and it had been personalized with Make Trade Fair symbols. Also at the front and center was a Tesla coil, which Chris used for only one song before the tech stole it away (we speculated that maybe the band had visited the Exploratorium). I couldn't see Will at all, as the drum kit was completely obscured by the piano, and on the other side, Guy worked the bass and a console of some sort.

Coldplay took the stage at 9 p.m. and played for about 90 minutes. I think there were about six or seven new songs, with a fair sprinkling of the older material. I loved their attempt at "Don't Panic," still my favorite of their songs and the one that kicked it all off for me, even if they couldn't remember how it went. I'm not besotted with Chris Martin, but I found it impossible to take my eyes off of him. He seems so damn sincere and passionate that it's hard for me to not think (hope?) he must be an OK guy. Regardless, he has an incredible amount of energy (at one point, he jumped over the piano), and though Coldplay is so huge these days, he didn't seem that different from the other times I've seen the band, when they weren't yet selling millions of records. They still look very boyish, and no one pulled any messiah moves *cough*bono*cough*, and there was no grandstanding either. What can I say? I love that humble shit.

I happened to have read the New York Times review of Coachella, which noted that Coldplay's new songs aren't as straightforward as their earlier tunes. Based on what I heard Wednesday night, I'd have to agree. The new single ("Speed of Sound," I think) is easily the most accessible of the new songs we heard, and old tunes such as "The Scientist," "Clocks," and (of course) "Yellow" elicited the biggest responses of the night. I also recall many reviews that mentioned a certain swagger in the second album. I'm not sure I agree with that, but I can say that reviewers probably won't say the same thing about the new album. At the least, the crowd gave the band their full attention on the unfamiliar songs. For one tune, the guys convened as if gathered around a campfire, with Johnny on slide guitar, Chris on acoustic, Will on piano, and Guy on harmonica for a little, understated song. There were also a couple of patent ballads, featuring Chris on piano.

On a couple of non-music notes, I gotta say that the San Francisco glitterati were out in force that night. I noticed that they cordoned off a much larger part of the balcony than usual, to accomodate the overflow, I assume. Before the show, we saw Robin Williams wandering around, and after the show, Steve Young walked right past us. And on a much cooler note, the lighting was beautiful! If we had been allowed to take photos, I would've shot about three rolls because the angles and shadows were so beautiful.

I'm really glad I got to see this show, as it may be the last time I ever see Coldplay in concert. Then again, I thought that the last time as well. Hahahahaha. I'll always have a soft spot for this band.