i like birds...and eels

Paolo graciously humored me by hanging out in San Francisco one more day and catching another show.

eels, The Fillmore, May 31, 2006: I've bored many, many people with the story of how I first became an eels fan, but I'm nothing if not consistent. I was actually pretty sick of them in the mid-'90s, when the overflowing Dreamworks coffers afforded them a snazzy Mark Romanek video and overexposure on MTV. A shambolic (in a bad way) radio station gig confirmed my suspicions, and it would be another three years before I truly opened my ears to them, thanks to the wonderful environs of Largo. In fact, it was with a very heavy heart that I admitted I couldn't make their show at Largo with Zach Galifianakis on May 12.

Since then, I've tried to catch them every time they've come to San Francisco. I know I missed one show because it conflicted with a Wilco gig at the Fillmore, but on every other occasion, I've been rewarded with odd theatrics.

There was the show, for example, when E, acting frail and possibly blind, was physically escorted onstage by two roadies. That was also the show when, after the houselights had come up and the crew was moving their stuff offstage, they came back on for one more number. And the last time they came to the Fillmore, E kicked off the show not onstage but in a small booth at the back of the room. See why I'm in love??

So it was with much anticipation that I welcomed this show--and I wasn't disappointed. After the lights went down, a big, burly guy wearing a Security shirt (Krazy Al, I believe) took the stage, looked around, and beckoned the band to come up. He would be sort of a court jester for much of the evening, engaging in a wide range of activities: protecting E, doing calisthenics, lifting weights, and even playing instruments.

As for the eels, they were a different lineup than the other times I've seen them. I miss Butch a great deal, but in his place was Knuckles, a guy in a Civil War getup and an era-appropriate beard. In comparison, E and the other guitarist (the Chet?), looked fairly pedestrian in their standard-issue jumpsuits with aviator goggles.

We thought they were supposed to be promoting Eels with Strings Live at Town Hall, but in fact, they seemed fairly oblivious to their latest record. Instead, we got a good cross-section of their discography, including a reworked "My Beloved Monster" (heavy on the organ), the awesome "Last Stop: This Town," a raucous (and Jon Brion cowritten) "Not Ready Yet," and a few from Blinking Lights. More surprising, however, were the choice of covers. We heard, among others, Peaches' anthem "Rock Show" and the old standard "I Put a Spell on You" with a huge nod to Screamin' Jay Hawkins.

And to cap it off, toward the end of the show, Krazy Al donned a latex glove and made his way to the edge of the stage--to high-five random audience members (Paolo!). One of the roadies handed him a can of whipped cream, and continuing the crowd participation, he squirted it into the mouths of all who wanted it (me included).

The young sister duo Smoosh opened the show with their spunky and cute songs. I give them credit for not going the Hillary Duff route, even if some tunes started to blur together. They got a dedication from the eels during the latter's set and even returned to the stage for the encore, which saw them dancing to the music, taunting and eventually winning over Krazy Al, and contributing vocals to "I Like Birds."

But it's still not over, folks. They faked us out again and returned to the stage for one more song, "Saturday Morning," after the lights went up. My love affair with this band continues.

See also:
» public service announcement
» top 5 Largo memories

mask

What a week--on all levels. I have a lot of catching up to do, so let's kick off this jam.

Cryptonight, Yoshi's, May 30, 2006: Paul, Annie, and I made our way to Yoshi's with just enough time to spare before the start of the first set. Living in Northern California, I'm privy to a ridiculous amount of Nels Cline one-off appearances, and I think I've seen many of the different aspects: the Nels Cline Singers, solo, and with Banyan and the Scott Amendola Band. But this show was different. First of all, it was a group of musicians associated with one of Nels's main labels, Crytogramophone. But more important, Alex Cline was playing that night! In fact, I believe Paolo made the trip out West specifically for that reason. As for Annie, she likes jazz and sushi--and how often do you get to combine the two?

Once more, I'll throw it right out there: I know nothing about jazz and only wish that I were underqualified to report. But I can say that we saw an extremely cool show. Two of the highlights for me were an emotional, meditative song called "Solflicka," written by and in memorial to their friend Eric von Essen, and "Mask," by Jeff Gauthier himself. For the latter, Jeff explained that he was inspired by a New Years' Eve spent in Mexico. He had drunk a bit too much tequila, and around midnight, he could hear a radio playing a Billie Holiday song while the local church's bells rang out. Incredibly, the band incorporated both elements, most notably in Alex Cline playing the gongs (!) to convey the church bells.

For the last two numbers, they brought on three horn players and Scott Amendola to perform a couple of Herbie Hancock pieces. As a child of the '80s, I only know "Rockit" when it comes to Herbie, so there was no way I was prepared for the wondrous cacophony and celebration that followed.

Nels, as always, was in fine form, showing his vast range of talent and formidable mastery of styles. He's a national treasure :)

See also:
» and when you touch down
» in the beginning, we closed our eyes
» I hear you sing a golden hymn
» smarty pants
» Nels nights

Star Hits: A tribute

I've been a shell of a person since Jon Brion's hiatus, and I hate everything I post that isn't music related--thus, the silence. To paraphrase Lisa Simpson: Better to be thought a fool than to blog and remove all doubt.

As a diversion, I'd like to present a big influence from my teenage years. (Those of you who'd like to be spared the hassle, you might not want to check back until the end of the month, which is when my next string of gigs is coming up. Must. Stay. Strong.)
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I've already wasted too much time on Rolling Stone. Spin? Spun! For me, music journalism begins and ends with one title: Star Hits. I still purchase Magnet and the like, but none hold a candle to my erstwhile North *ahem* Star.

Everyone who knows me knows one thing: Like nearly every child of the '80s, I was crazy about Duran Duran in my adolescence (and--gulp--beyond). Yes, I now understand all the criticisms lodged against them, but at the time, they opened up a new world to me. I probably shouldn't admit this, but if it weren't for Duran Duran, I may never have discovered Roxy Music, Yohji Yamamoto, or Wilfred Owen. And despite the miles of press the band garnered, no magazine covered them like Star Hits did. (For the international readers, in the United States, it was known as Star Hits, but Smash Hits started it all in the United Kingdom.)

I came for Duran Duran, but I stayed for everything else. I owe/blame my 20-odd years of Anglophilia to the magazine, and I worshipped the rag for mundanities such as its use of heavy, quality paper and full-color spreads--all the better to tape them to my locker at school. I drooled over the ads listing "limited edition" import releases. I longed to be Jackie, the seemingly omniscient doyenne of the Get Smart column. Last but not least, I hung on every word of "advice" dished out by the sardonic Bold Type.

In our retro-crazy times, it's hard to recall correctly what was and wasn't popular back in the day. Anyone can claim to have "discovered" REM and the Smiths in 1984, but if you look at those early issues of Star Hits, you can see for yourself. Granted, the magazine wasn't going to take home any Pulitzers, but it inhabited a middle ground between the pure drivel of a teenybop magazine and the sanctimonious snobbery of, say, the British music weeklies.

But enough of my proselytizing--let's take a look at the table of contents of the debut issue (pictured above). Sure, Duran Duran, Madonna, David Bowie, and Culture Club are predictable enough, and even Big Country, the Alarm, and Spandau Ballet would break through to a small degree in the states. I love that the Rolling Stones, breakdancing, and Grace Jones all share column inches, but this may be my favorite single item in the entire listing:



If you've ever attended a wedding, you don't need to read another word about Kool and the Gang and its '80s-era lineup. Instead, please note the top-billed band: X, who've never been particularly renowned in this country. And finally, there's Trio, who were known by very few people in this country until Volkswagen used their song in an ad--in 1997, or 13 years after this review ran. Ah, how I loved this magazine.

Alas, as the decade wore on, Star Hits became more of a glorified Duran Duran fanzine (not that I complained), and it finally folded in the late '80s, around the same time the band's fan base moved on. I was such a media nerd, however, that I pored over bylines of other magazines for a glimpse of life from my favorite writers. I didn't have to look far--a lot of the writers continued to work for British publications, while Chris Heath became a Rolling Stone mainstay, and David Keeps landed at Details (where he received and responded to my gushing fan letter). Later, I found out that Suzan Colon took a post at YM, and I was kinda tickled a couple of years ago when I read that Ian Birch took over the helm of TV Guide. Oh, and there's that Star Hits cofounder and former writer who went on to a different related career: Neil Tennant, half of the Pet Shop Boys.

Thank you, Star Hits, for the initial spark and the continuing inspiration.

Note: This post was made possible by my BFF, who kept her magazines in pristine condition and entrusted me with their care, long after mine had squandered our precious natural resources in a landfill.

See also:
» Star Hits: A close reading