old news wrapped up in old blues

I've missed several newish bands over the last year or so, because of--well, you can guess why. Dr. Dog is not actually one of these groups I intended to see, but they've shared the bill with some of the bands whose shows have escaped me. It's a good thing, then, that Amoeba intervened.

Dr. Dog, Amoeba Records, July 15, 2007: I don't spend a lot of time analyzing band names (Tom, I'm looking at you), but I gotta say that Dr. Dog is one of the worst choices I've heard in a long time. That name can go in so many directions, none of them good. Invariably, I think of Poochie, the ill-conceived "edgy" canine companion on The Simpsons voiced by Homer (and killed off by the network suits).

If I'd managed to set aside my prejudice earlier, I probably would've enjoyed Dr. Dog's gigs at Cafe du Nord with Elvis Perkins and the Cold War Kids, or even at the Fillmore with Son Volt. Surely, I would've dug the healthy heaps of harmony, the slew of sleighbells, and the plink-plonky piano that marks my favorites among their tunes, as well as the Bowie and Lennon sound-alike tracks. In all likelihood, I'd even appreciate the bluesier, raggedy numbers that come close to what you might expect from a band called Dr. Dog.



Live, they sounded rawer than on the record, but a couple of major factors remained intact: the harmonies and the vintage keyboard sound. One of my favorite aspects of We All Belong is the warm, old-fashioned production that hearkens back to the greats of the '70s (please disregard my ignorance of the era's music). I don't think the band had any intention of regurgitating that sound in their show, nor is that what came through, but the keyboard bridged the studio and live experiences. The multipart harmonies were lovely too--not cloying or overdone, just unabashedly inviting--while the lead vocals were alternately scorching and worldly.

By the end of the show, my misgivings about Dr. Dog's name and appearance, along with any suspicions I had that they were a thinly disguised jam band, had mostly dissipated. If Dr. Dog continues to share the bill with other noteworthy bands, I'd gladly see them again (which may happen sooner rather than later, as they're opening for Wilco in September). The band on its own, however, might not be enough to bring me back.

changeling

Along with Massive Attack and Tricky, DJ Shadow pretty much wrote the book on '90s trip-hop and made me hate almost every other band/performer who tried to capture that seductive sound. For a long time, Shadow's masterful Endtroducing was my favorite soundtrack during hazy, heady Sunday morning drives home, and I still put on the album every couple of months, just because I love it so much.

Thus, I drooled when I first heard of the Massive Attack/DJ Shadow double bill at the Hollywood Bowl, but my venue snobbery kicked in when the same ticket came to my neck of the woods. I guess Shadow picked up this vibe too because he signed up for two separate in-stores at Amoeba Records in the Bay Area instead. That's a true homeboy for you.

DJ Shadow, Amoeba Records (San Francisco), September 21, 2006: In terms of hip-hop time, Shadow was fairly punctual. He arrived only 15 or 20 minutes late, and during his absence, we were entertained by an MC from the Berkeley Amoeba store. He asked for three volunteers from the audience to play a game called Statue while he freestyled over their poses. It didn't quite work out as he had hoped, but he kept us laughing. He also turned over the mic to one of his Statue subjects, a.k.a. MC Hotsauce. El hombre caliente was less effective, but the crowd, at the least, gave him a chance.

Meanwhile, I took in the assembled masses. I've been to only a couple of other shows at Amoeba, but the crowd seemed to stretch all the way to the back wall. And though the group unsurprisingly skewed young and ethnic, I was glad to see more than a few faces that looked at least as, er, old school (!?!) as my own.

I'm endlessly fascinated by the species known as Fanaticus musica and their mores and practices, including the way they first claim, then spurn any given artist. I guess the thing that gets me is the love affair, especially the early, giddy days and the eventual sayonara. You know that old cliche of breakups: "It's not you, it's me." But when you are no longer into a band/artist, it's never you, it's always them. They suck, and they've changed, while you, of course, remain blameless. I know it's only music, but the language of the disillusionment is a powerful dialect.

Which brings me to the current brouhaha around DJ Shadow and his new release, The Outsider, which many people are deriding as a sellout because--apparently--there's rap on it. First off, I want to say that I'm the last person who should share any thoughts about hip-hop, but after listening to The Outsider a couple of times now, I don't get the controversy at all. Yes, it has actual rapping on it, but it's far from the usual gangsta and hoes lyrics you find on MTV. Close to my heart, there's a shoutout to "Vietnamese patnas," whatever that means. Does the whole album work? Not on every level, but if you're willing to listen, you can still hear Shadow's trademark multilayered sound in many parts.

For this appearance, Shadow alluded to The Outsider's mixed reviews and thanked us for sticking with him. He made the case that he was, at heart, a music fan with evolving tastes and couldn't make the same album over and over again. But it might've been more telling that the biggest crowd reactions went to the old tracks, especially the always pleasing "Organ Donor." (I've seen Shadow at least a dozen times by now, and I still can't wrap my brain around how he can possibly coerce those incredible sounds from that collection of turntables, samplers, and widgets.) In between, he mixed at least a couple off the new one, as well as at least one tune off Private Press.

Through it all, DJ Shadow remained his usual low-key, generous self, sharing the stage with one of the rappers on his album and a singer named Chris James from Leeds, England, who's featured on two tracks on The Outsider. He lavished much praise on the Bay Area and its role in shaping his sensibilities. Call me silly, but details such as those will likely keep me in the fold for some time to come.

salvation holdout central

New Pornographers, Amoeba, August 24, 2005: So-called supergroups are always a crapshoot, aren't they? The commingling of talent is no guarantee that the resulting group will be any good; it could be some horribly indulgent affair of yes men, devoid of the tension that makes many great bands. On the other hand, it could be awesome, and you may grow really attached to them, with no guarantee that they'll ever surface again.

The New Pornographers are sometimes referred to as a supergroup, though you'd be hard-pressed to find many people who've heard of the various bands that comprise the group. But with their growing popularity, the NPs seem to be in the process of becoming a more regular gig, good news for us power-pop lovers. Even better, they came to town on their promo tour, coinciding with the release of Twin Cinema, the new album, and I made it over to Amoeba in time for the show.

Carl solicited requests for their public soundcheck, starting with "The Laws Have Changed." Unfortunately, I can't remember the second song they did. After leaving the stage for a short break, they were officially announced, then reemerged onstage.

I know a lot of people are complaining that Neko Case isn't on this tour, but as much as I dig her, this isn't her baby--it's Carl's vehicle, and his songs make up most of their albums. I have no problem with Carl's niece (?) stepping up to the plate. She doesn't have Neko's distinctive vocals, but she chips in on keyboard and tambourine. Her voice is sweet and clear. I suppose my ears have yet to really be able to judge her. Until I see them on the proper tour, I won't get to hear how she handles the more female-lead-heavy tracks, but for now, she filled in nicely.

True to form, the band had a goofy energy onstage, again asking for requests, then batting a few of them down, as well as admitting they were still trying to remember some of their songs. At some point, the band started debating where to find the best burrito in San Francisco (deja vu--didn't the Decemberists have similar banter?). They had some technical difficulties with a buzzing amp, and Carl broke a string on one of his guitars but maintained that he was rock enough to play a number of songs on only two strings. They took some catty pot shots at Green Day, but I like those kind of fighting words. Overall, I think they did about six songs, mostly from the new album, as well as a couple of older ones, including "Jackie" from the first album and "Slow Descent into Alcoholism," which would've been my request.

To tell you the truth, I can't say the sound was great; I was too close to the stage, and Amoeba isn't exactly set up for great shows, at least not while waves of humanity are shopping in the background. But based on the sight of the masses streaming out after the show, I'd say they drew an impressive crowd. I'm looking forward to their gigs here next month.

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» listening for too long to one song