I had been told to expect a great live show before I went to see The Hives last night at the Warfield in San Francisco—but no amount of warning could have prepared me for the musical onslaught that I experienced when I got there. There is no doubt that I have never seen a band with as much sheer energy blasting from the stage. It was as if someone had flipped the volume control into overdrive and pushed the fast...
Anyone familiar with The Creepshow’s story has been waiting for a new release with trepidation for the last two years. Upon first appearing, the band set the psychobilly world on fire as singer Jen “Hellcat” Blackwood, bassist Sean “Sickboy” McNab, drummer Matt Gee and keyboardist Reverend McGinty tossed a keg-sized Molotov cocktail into a haunted mausoleum and then started a zombie dance party around the resulting bonfire with the contents of their debut, Sell Your Soul. There was no stopping...
With Between The Lines, the newly re-christened Saint Alvia (formerly Saint Alvia Cartel – the band abbreviated its name with no explanation given but, presumably, they were sick of the anatomical comparisons raised by SAC) has clearly made its next order of business to put some distance between their prior work and their new direction. The band turns its back completely on the aggro-punk bruisers of its debut in the opening seconds of the before/after mash-up “Walk Before You Run...
Hallucinogenic frogs, stray cats, porn stars and Sarah Palin all have something in common: they’re dirty. They are dirty in a unique way, but they won’t get anywhere with it. They’re unorganized. The dirty people of this world need a union and good theme music that’s super sexy. Dirty people of the world, I bring you the Dirt Crew, your one and only savior in the organization of your kind. James Flavour and Break 3000 lead the way for the...
The new album by Bigelf may leave you wondering more than it makes you feel assured that the boys from L.A. know exactly what they are doing. Their first album, Hex, dished out some amazing samples of who their musical influences are (Pink Floyd, ELO, Black Sabbath, Rush) and danced around the edges of being a prog rock-type concept album. Cheat The Gallows actually is a concept album; the message of the songs implies that something on a deeper level...
Even in the interrupted and rough-hewn, needs-first exposition that was Reprieve (the sessions for the album were put on hold as Hurricane Katrina forced the singer to evacuate New Orleans for the comparatively stable climes of upstate New York) it was clear that Ani DiFranco was reaching out to find the elements that would help her re-envision the parameters of her sound. Beneath the chaotic clamor of that collection of songs were the seeds of new ideas forced into stasis...
If you break it right down, there are only a few subjects or emotional states guaranteed to connect with pop and rock audiences right off the bat: love (be it of the puppy, unrequited or physical variety), anger, frustration, journeys (either physical or emotional) and, finally, calls to arms against a larger force (specified or unspecified). With any one (or several depending upon the band’s ambition) of those themes in place, the rest of the composition of a given pop...
The Fratellis don't sing opera. They don't roll in an SUV riddled with "bullet holes the size of matzo balls" and hide out in an abandoned restaurant. They don't threaten to puree little kids' hands in a blender if they don't get the information they want… or at least they didn't during their show on September 17th at the Grand Ballroom at the Regency Center in San Francisco. Clearly, these are not the Fratellis I grew up with. Luckily, what...
I have taken Nick Cave And The Bad Seeds live shows for granted, and I'll be the first to admit it. In fact, the last time I saw him and his band live (aside from the two Grinderman shows here in S.F. well over a year ago) was probably in 1997 or so. But after being blown away by those two amazing nights It finally sunk in that Mr. Cave has become as talented as a performer as he is...
After eight years without a numeral appended to his name and a couple of albums that, while very good, found the defender of the dumped evacuating his seat at the eighty-eight keys (Rockin’ The Suburbs) and then sitting back down to ease out some bittersweet and sentimental regrets that even won some adult contemporary radio air time (“Landed” from Songs For Silverman), fans might’ve started to get worried that Ben Folds had forgotten his sense of humor as well as...