precious places, precious things

Apparently it was Secret Show Weekend in Los Angeles, with intimate gigs by Depeche Mode and the Rolling Stones taking place around town. As for me, it's never a secret where to find me in Los Angeles on the last Friday of the month. It must be time for Jon Brion at Largo at the Coronet, even if my usual seat has moved over a smidge.

Jon Brion, Largo at the Coronet, April 26, 2013: The most recent Largo makeover was immediately apparent at first glance. In contrast to last year's minimal setup, Jon and crew had brought back much of his equipment, albeit in a slightly different configuration. The video screens were back, as were their miles and miles of cables. In fact, he was almost entirely plugged again, with the return of the mellotron, electric guitars, and the vibes. The one missing element: a drum kit.

Jon entered stage right in a corduroy jacket perhaps more suited for a fox hunt than your typical concert, but then again, this is never a typical concert. He opened with a fairly straightforward piano exercise -- kind of like a fancy version of scales? We were squarely in soundtrack territory, which made sense that we soon landed in "Punch-Drunk Melody."

The harmonica joined the mix for "Someone Else's Problem Now," then we went back into film score land with the addition of celeste and Mellotron. I thought I heard hints of "Round Midnight" and/or "You Don't Know What Love Is," but neither lingered. Instead, I kind of felt like we should've been watching a chase sequence. When we emerged from this rabbit hole, he landed on an uptempo "Knock Yourself Out."

For the first time in more than a year, I got to hear Jon on electric guitar again, this time for "Why Do You Do This to Yourself." My notes say it had a pretty bridge and sounded more dramatic than usual, especially the echo effects. Perhaps it has to do with the return to the electric form? Or maybe different pedals are in play. Regardless, it felt like a grander performance for this typically bare-bones tune.

A Byrdsian tuning break morphed into kind of a grungy, heavy bass, which turned out to be appropriate because Jon went with his early-'90s composition "Same Thing." I've heard this song a million times and look forward to hearing it a million more, especially when Jon casually graces it with guitar licks that could fuel other musicians' entire careers.

Back to the piano he, er, went for "The Way It Went," then the AV club convened. Jon cued up a clip of a blues guitarist in a segment labeled "Ex. 18." After a few runs through the video, Jon exercised his backward looping to isolate and distort the segment he wanted -- no more than a few notes in all.

He did the same with the next video performer: Nina Simone, singing "Brown Baby." With her footage, he looped and reversed and slowed down and isolated. Jon added some Mellotron too. I have to admit, at this point, I wasn't sure how'd they all fit together, but I was confident it'd be worth the wait.

The answer emerged a little while later: "You Don't Know What Love Is," with chords from the video guitarist punctuating certain passages, while Nina's voice became a texture and a wall of sound. My notes say the blues meets Eno, but I wouldn't put it past Eno to have mined that field long ago, before it even occurred to us mere mortals.

Jon grabbed an acoustic guitar for the next portion of the show, first for "Meaningless," followed by "It Looks Like You." Paul noticed a "Pink Moon"-like intro; personally, I've never picked it out before, but that could be due to my surface familiarity with Nick Drake. Alternately, it could be Jon exercising his digits before settling into the song.

Per Jon's bidding, the requests commenced, and he answered with a comically exaggerated intro to "Ruin My Day" in response to a fan's comically exaggerated call. An inquiry for Spike Jones's greatest hits extended this silly, bubbly mood, and it lingered for quite a while. We got "Heaven Knows I'm Miserable Now" on vibes (capping a couple of unexpected Smiths-heavy days for Paul and a Smiths-heavy month for me), "Incense and Peppermint" on piano, a pointedly specific direction for "This Will Be Our Year," and "Cat Scratch Fever" -- the last one perhaps in response to Jon's joke about gun control.

Gravitas returned with Randy Newman's "Sail Away" -- maybe the first time I've heard Jon perform it, though hardly the first time it's been requested. The serenity lingered with Jon's own "Stop the World," featuring the video contributions of Percy Grainger -- who could've been the progeny of Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, what with his red hair and his soundalike last name. As with the earlier clips of Nina Simone and the unnamed blues guitarist, Jon plucked what he needed from Grainger's piano skills, then molded it to his requirements. Jon then added a bass underpinning that warmed up and practically knitted a warm angora blanket from the tune.

Jon welcomed Blake Mills to the stage, and they took their places at what was to me a new add-on to the stage. Just to the right of the trusty old piano, Jon's crew had set up a boom mic and an everyday leather chair. If you've ever seen pictures of the Beatles recording at Abbey Road, you'll know what I mean. As an audience member seated directly in front of them, I can tell you it was a thrillingly intimate look. You could almost imagine you were right there in Ocean Way or Capitol or what have you with them.



They pulled up another chair for Blake, the two men chose their guitars, and they went into a song by George Jones, in recognition of his passing that morning. I should note here that this goes against Jon's former practice of urging us to listen to the original recordings instead of listening to him and friends attempt inferior version of the classics -- but hey, he has the right to change his mind. And that's how we got "Things Have Gone to Pieces."

Jon and Blake played guitar roulette a bit before their next song. When Blake decided to switch out of the 12-string, Jon took it up instead. But partway through Jon's next track, "No Excuse to Cry," Blake slipped away again to grab a battered old metal resonator (says Paul). It turned out to be a great match, especially with his handy-dandy slide. The coda invoked Buddy Holly and mariachi bands to my ears, and much like its sister song "Why Do You Do This to Yourself," this tune felt grander and lusher than usual. Then again, it had double the guitars, and in this case, more proved to be better.

I believe the next song was Blake's own, apparently newly written. He even brought his own guitar and guitar chord! Blake gave Jon minimal direction and played a riff; to no one's surprise, Jon picked it up immediately. They were both off to the races on this bluesy, high-spirited tune.

My notes on their next selection, Jon's original "She's At It Again," don't say much, probably because I was too busy taking in what must've been a 20-minute (at minimum) stretch. With Blake's participation, the song quickly went in a heavy, Zeppelin-esque direction, but they pounded their way through Tattoo You-era Stones, White Stripes, Hendrix, and Sonic Youth -- and those are just the ones I can vaguely identify. (Reminder: I know nothing about Led Zeppelin, the Rolling Stones, White Stripes, Jimi Hendrix, or Sonic Youth.) Let me put it this way: If you love guitar, this was the version of the tune you want to track down.

Jon returned for an encore and alighted on "Please Stay Away From Me" in the style of "Strawberry Fields" because of the presence of the Mellotron. And for good measure, he threw in a direct quote from the song too.

Per usual, Jon finished the show with heartfelt thanks to us for coming out to the show and being so nice. His words have never struck me as anything less than sincere, but on this loose, unpretentious night, the rawness and appreciation came through.

Setlist
--piano
--Punch-Drunk Melody
--Someone Else's Problem Now
--piano
--Knock Yourself Out
--Why Do You Do This to Yourself
--Same Thing
--The Way It Went
--You Don't Know What Love Is
--Meaningless
--It Looks Like You
--Ruin My Day
--Spike Jones' greatest hits
--Heaven Knows I'm Miserable Now
--Incense and Peppermint
--This Will Be Our Year
--Cat Scratch Fever
--Sail Away
--Stop the World

with Blake Mills
--Things Have Gone to Pieces
--No Excuse to Cry
--Blake's song
--She's At It Again

encore
--Please Stay Away From Me

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» september gurls
» the things you do to keep yourself intact

make a shy bald buddhist reflect

I learned a new phrase last weekend: Fauxchella. It describes the pre- and post-Coachella trickle of shows around here -- and across Southern California, if you know where to go -- by bands booked for the festival. I haven't indulged in the offerings as much lately, but it's nice to have the option. This year, Fauxchella brought Johnny Marr to the Fillmore, and a quick visit to say hi to friends in line turned first into an extra ticket, then into a exultant evening for everyone convened.

Johnny Marr, the Fillmore, April 13, 2013: If you ever visit my apartment and thumb through my vinyl, you're guaranteed to notice a large segment of import albums and 12-inch singles by my teenage obsessions: Duran Duran and the Smiths. At the time, I had no idea how diametrically opposed they were in terms of style, influences, and image. To this immigrant Asian-American suburban kid, these pale, skinny British men were the definition of exotic and otherworldly. Unbeknownst to me at the time, the two bands set my expectations for all ensembles to come and dictated the parameters of my musical tastes. I probably favor the jangly Smiths side these days, but I can fall for a solid, saucy stomper in the mold of Duran Duran now and again.

Duran Duran has mostly fallen off my radar these days, but Johnny Marr has not, due in large part to his work with a huge range of musicians, two of whom happen to be my favorites. Of course, I'm talking about Neil Finn and, by extension, Jeff Tweedy when they worked on the second 7 Worlds Collide project. But even if he hadn't branched out, Johnny's legacy would need no further burnishing.

As I hadn't originally planned to see this show, I didn't know what to expect, but the whispers among the more dedicated fans indicated we'd hear some classics tonight. Johnny wasted little time teasing us along -- the second song of the set was "Stop Me if You Think You've Heard This One Before." Contrary to the directions imparted, we did not stop him.



Over the years, I've probably used the phrase "the modern Lennnon/McCartney" way too many times without realizing what it actually meant. I thought it signified any amazing songwriting team, and that's exactly what Morrissey and Marr were to me. But truth be told, I homed in on Morrissey's angsty lyrics and didn't give a ton of thought to what Johnny brought to the table, even though his talent practically slapped me in the face every time I put on "How Soon Is Now" -- which I put on a lot. That changed when I heard Bryan Ferry's voice over Johnny's arrangements in "The Right Stuff," aka "Money Changes Everything," b-side to "Bigmouth Strikes Again." (See above for my actual record that I apparently got signed a long time ago.) So that's what Johnny did for all those songs.

This same revelation hit again when Johnny rolled out "Stop Me if You Think You've Heard This One Before." The lyrics and melody are infectious like an old girl-group chart topper, but listen to that opening swell and syncopation, then settle in for the jangly blanket of guitar that wraps up the rest of the tune. I'd also be remiss not to point out that, unlike so many songs of the time, the drums don't sound like they were recorded in a drafty, haunted hangar. The song has great bones, to borrow a phrase.

Overall, Johnny dedicated about one-third of his set to Smiths songs, including "London," a deep album cut that may have been the biggest surprise of the night. Actually, I take that back -- "Getting Away With It" from his Electronic phase was the biggest shocker of the night. Nope, that's not right either because the guest spot by Billy Duffy (from the Cult) blew us all way.



(At this point, I need to throw in another sidebar and mention that a good friend adored the Cult, and we listened to a lot of their records in the '90s -- so you can kind of imagine my amazement at this combo. I didn't even know Billy was from Manchester! Now back to the blog.)

Johnny prefaced Billy's appearance with a sweet story about how they'd known each other for a long time and believed in each other and supported one another through the years. I'm a sucker for rocker rapport, and I probably secretly cling to the belief that all the best musicians live together in the same house a la the Beatles in Help! Short of an invitation to that dinner party, I'll accept displays of concert-side conviviality to boost my spirits.

The two of them closed out the show with a cover of "I Fought the Law" and the Smiths' own "How Soon Is Now." I am and always will be a planner, but by the time they left the stage, there was no doubt this spontaneous Saturday night decision worked out pretty well.

What about Johnny's new songs? They sounded great and offered further evidence of his ongoing evolution. This man is not about to rest on his laurels -- or rest, period, judging by his bounce and dedication onstage. Within a couple of songs, he was already soaked in sweat, and he didn't get as much as a towel throughout the evening. When he returned for the encore with his own "Johnny Fucking Marr" shirt from the merch booth, you could hardly blame him or hold such a cocky move against him. I mean, isn't that what we've been calling him all these years anyway?

This is the 40-something talking, so bear with me: I will never deny my love of '80s music, but at the same time, so-called nostalgia acts aren't my thing either. Still, when you see Johnny Marr killing a room like that, you need to shut up and sing out for at least one night.

See also:
» i'm a realist
» Obscurity Knocks: Marion, "The Program"

hush hush keep it down now

Old habits die hard. I had conferred with a few friends before tickets went on sale for the Aimee Mann/Ted Leo aka #both show at Bottom of the Hill and even decided I didn't need to see both nights. However, I immediately reverted to my old ways when the Web page flipped and bought in for the two evenings. For me, more nights are always better. For everyone else, I'm pretty sure one night of #both will suffice -- and will certainly be worth your while.

#BOTH, Bottom of the Hill, March 26-27, 2013: Let's address the elephant in the room: #both is a terrible, terrible name, and the artists themselves fessed to it early on in the show. I'm guessing they got plenty of guff over it on the Internet, but clearly, they weren't backing down, as they chose to headline this show as the entitled entity. As far as I'm concerned, #both is as bad a moniker as LMFAO -- but that's the only comparison worth drawing between the two.

I didn't know too much about #both before this gig, though I'm not sure Aimee or Ted shared a whole lot of details in the run-up. My lizard brain basically saw Aimee Mann and Bottom of the Hill, and pure reflex took over. I've blogged enough about Aimee to make clear how much I love her music, but it's worth repeating. She marries melancholy to melody in a way few others can, in my estimation.

As for Ted Leo, I've caught him a couple of times before, most recently a guest appearance at a Paul F. Tompkins gig. I appreciate him more than I like him. Does that make sense? But he and Aimee have developed a great rapport, which has been clear from anyone who's followed them on Twitter and quickly became apparent in their shared stage presence.



Technically, I've seen Aimee in a smaller venue (at least a couple of times at the old Largo, to be exact), but Bottom of the Hill is a whole different environment, a bona fide grungy rock club. So it seemed appropriate that Aimee's opening statements addressed the strong pot smell that seemed to spontaneously materialize near the stage. This led to an awesome round of speculation between the two on their respective audience's drug of choice. Well, Ted's take sounded more definitive (speed), but Aimee had the last word on her base's preferred sedative: laudanum. You know she's right!

I hope this gives you an idea of the general air of the show because I can't begin to capture the chummy banter between the two. Fortunately, this camaraderie carried into the music. They opened with a new song from their forthcoming duo record. They reported they've been writing together, which makes sense; after all, they're both singer/songwriters at heart. I'm going to guess, though, that if you hear the new songs without any vocals, the tenor and tempo will give away the main instigator behind the tune. The set opener was pretty much a classic Aimee song, with an easy, effortless pace and a tempered narrative -- in other words, bliss.



Overall, they almost adhered to Aimee's promise of one-third of her tracks, one-third of Ted's tracks, one-third #both titles, and one Thin Lizzy cover. You can do the math, but I think the set slightly favored Aimee's catalog. On the first night, we got 1.5 extra tunes: a parody cover of "Freebird" in response to a cliched request (wasn't it part of her set a couple of years ago?) and "Fourth of July" for a much more informed and discerning fan. Bonus points to Ted for trying to sing along, though he couldn't quite remember all the words. To be fair, Aimee messed up on a couple of Ted's songs -- along with her own "Living a Lie" on opening night!

I can't really talk about Ted's music, though he pointed out that mentions of alcohol have a way of working themselves into his lyrics. I'll take on the mantled of Captain Obvious and state that Ted has a great voice and an deep respect for melodies. He also put in soothing harmonies and striking guitarwork on Aimee's selections. If you want more details on his contributions, I'm afraid you'll have to find a Ted Leo blog -- I'm not up to the task.

As for Aimee, there was obviously no way we'd get to her usual allotment, so we made do with a truncated selection of the tunes the two had rehearsed. I don't think Aimee even got to certain albums, but of course the recent Charmers earned a few slots, as did her best-known Magnolia titles, which elicited their usual warm wave of recognition. I was quite pleased to hear "Little Bombs" from the underappreciated The Forgotten Arm; I believe that's what you'd call a deep album cut.

One variation between the two shows came at the very end of the second night. Whereas Ted has been content to busy himself on guitar for "Deathly" at their first show, he decided to add harmonies on the second night. He did well, but I'm the last person to ask, as the studio recording has my favorite harmony of all time. I appreciated his effort anyway.

I'm putting off discussion of the biggest treat and revelation of the night, which arrived nearly at the end of the gig. Aimee prefaced the song with a long, self-deprecating introduction, calling parts of it dumb, as well as pointing out her young age when she wrote it. She also said the only reason she agreed to it was to hear Ted sing a verse. Ted countered and proclaimed it a "stone classic" -- no argument here. Ted has shown his support of this song before, most notably with his recent cameo in Aimee's video for "Labrador."



The song, of course, was "Voices Carry." I can't undersell this video's impact -- not to mention Aimee's striking image -- on my teenage self, but the truth is I love the song, and I can still sing most of it from memory. I may even still have it on vinyl. In all my times seeing Aimee in concert, I'm pretty sure I've heard it only once before in that long-ago Acoustic Vaudeville tour with Michael Penn.

A funny thing happened, though. Earlier in the show, Ted had shared a story about Paul Stanley and the latter's endorsement of singing along at concerts. I guess it was fresh in our minds because the audience audibly chimed in on the chorus, even eliciting a compliment from Aimee. I hope she takes it as a sign that she should air it more often.

OK, one more attempt to capture their repartee. On the second night, Aimee felt compelled to share a bit of backstage graffiti with us -- namely, the Pussy Rules. This brought up Ted's own report of a disgusting illustration of a hermaphroditic bird at a club in Cleveland. The performers and the audience returned to these talking points again and again throughout the gig for all kinds of hilarity. I won't try to sum them up. Instead, check them out for yourself, courtesy of Aimee's Instagram:



I claim no firsthand knowledge of #both's future plans, other than their announcement of an EP coming out on Matador in August. But you don't have to be a fortune teller to predict they'll be taking this show on the road at some point. With any luck, voices will carry all across the globe in their wake.

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» green typewriters
» today's the day
» i'm the stuff of happy endings