NoFX @ The Fox Theater

Written By: Darwin Green
(Senior Editor)

Photos By: Mehra Romezi

View all of Mehra's photos here.

12/04/09 - NoFX is, hands down, one of the best punk bands to emerge from the garages of the Bay Area in the early 80s, and with Punk in Drublic achieved critical and commercial acclaim for their no-nonsense, no-frills, no-effects style. They’re a band that continues to drive home the punk ideals into its listeners without apology or any bow towards pretense, and have influenced countless imitators, inspired many fans, and continue to thrive amongst electro-pop and other such genres of the new millenium.

The Fox Theater in Pomona lies somewhere in the area between Los Angeles and Riverside. It’s not the most, let’s say, impressive area for a band to play, yet still books great acts and draws large audiences. For someone in Los Angeles, the drive can take upwards of three hours, with traffic, so when I met people in line who drove from places like Ontario, Canada and Arizona, it impressed upon me that NoFX has some serious fans.

Once in there I walked down to the pit area, where I waited through the opening acts, who were pretty good. The first one, Dead to Me, caught my attention as an emerging punk band with the same insouciance and irreverence that any good punk band should possess, particularly toward the heckling crowd shouting insults and throwing drinks. The singer boasted a song with lyrics “stolen from Charles Bukowski.” A man after my own heart.

After they left, and after the second opening act played their set, a bunch of people rushed the pit past the security guards, who looked like they were trying to push back a giant stream with nothing but sweaty and muscled humans spraying past the sides of their hands. It was all I could do to remain standing as the flow of enormous mammals with shaved heads stampeded their way into the crowd. I began to wonder if it was such a good idea to remain there.

I waited though, despite concern of being trampled underhoof. NoFX teased the audience some, then came out and opened with “Linoleum.” The crowd came to shove and be shoved throughout the entire pit, not just some small circle in the center, the entire thing. I ended up getting knocked over into some people as I inadvertently shoved some featherweight kid into the mercy of the circular mass of people gaining momentum like a hurricane. I felt like a sissy when I saw some waifish girl try and push a large bald guy with a goatee with no result, while I considered leaving.

I mustered on. The band took breaks between songs to tell some Jewish or Mexican jokes or crack wise at the audience, and then launched into some such song as “Murder the Government.” The great thing about punk is that the songs all usually last less than three minutes, if that, which means the band can pack thirty or forty songs into a set. NoFX knew how to space the energy. Just when one thought it was safe, like with the slow opening of “Reeko,” they would immediately pick up the energy, and the musty, massive bodies would start crashing into each other.

They loved the audience, and the audience loved them back.

They ended with “Don’t Call Me White,” and afterwards danced to a song that addressed the racist remarks any one of the people in the audience might find offensive. The basic theme came through as: we’re all a little racist so just laugh at the jokes because they’re funny. Whatever one felt about the message of their songs, or about the type of humor they have, the band kept their own after all the years they’ve been around.

The XX @ The Music Box

Article and Photos By: Steve Sawyer

View all of Steve's The XX photos here.

It's only been a couple of weeks since I wrote so glowingly of The XX, and their similarly named debut album "XX", so understand that I was very close to having a sudden heart condition when I learned that they would playing at The Music Box with the equally amazing Friendly Fires. So feeling slightly intimidated by the thought of superbly dressed (read: potentially British) fans, I donned my favorite oxford, and blazer, dragged out my favorite pair of jeans (read: never seen the inside of a washing machine) and made my way to the theater. After a long wait outside that involved watching some skateboarders eat it about a hundred times, the line finally moved inside, and I made my way to the most important section of any concert hall. The bar. After equipping myself with a delicious oat soda, I killed some time, and wandered around the venue for a bit.

If you've been to The Avalon, or The Mayan Theater, then the seemingly ubiquitous design should be very familiar, with a balcony overlooking the floor, and stage, and exits on either side of the theater. The only difference being that The Music Box is slightly smaller than it's counterparts, which worked to it's credit that much more if only because the bill was demanding an intimate performance.

So when the lights dropped, and the curtains pulled back and revealed a very nonchalant Holly Miranda, it really did feel like it was the beginnings of something special. And as she began to audibly display the intricacies of her relationship with her guitar, something slightly strange happened. Everyone was quiet. Not the uncomfortable quiet that happens when someone is being so horrible at something that no one in the room has the heart to tell them. But rather the kind of quiet that is usually reserved to display reverence to someone or something, like a quiet affirmation of accomplishment.

The audience was captivated, and the crowd of the typically distracted Facebook generation was temporarily pacified by her delicate and soft lulling voice, and her steady and dreamy guitar work. And while she breezed through her set, I almost didn't realize that she had performed every single song from her EP “Sleep on Fire” but I suppose that's the hypnotic power of her performing ability. Also I would like to point out that she played the tambourine by stomping on it, and while I don't know the significance of relaying this information to you, I thought it was cool.

After a brief intermission that included repeat trips to the bar, and restroom it was time for The XX to take to the stage. I hurriedly tried to find my way into the press pit, only to be denied by my new arch nemesis Carson Daly, and his ragtag gang of expensive camera wielding thugs. After narrowly escaping with my life, I managed to get a pretty decent vantage point from the balcony to take some pictures and catch The XX's set. I suppose I should get the elephant out of the room right now. Baria Qureshi is gone. Now while this may not be news for some, there were definitely plenty of surprised people at the show, so maybe it was that sense of trepidation that prompted Oliver to warn the crowd. “We're just getting used to playing as a three piece so if we fuck up a lot, we're sorry.” And with that out of the way, they wasted no time in diving in headfirst, starting with the intro from “XX” and segueing flawlessly into VCR, and after hearing the now familiar chorus “Watch things on VCR's, with me and talk about big love, I think we're superstars, you say you think we are the best thing” it was rather obvious that these guys are going to do just fine carrying on as a trio. The crowd continued to sway and swoon along through the amazing set list, that saw them doing equally amazing renditions of fan favorites like “Shelter” and “Crystalised.”

But my favorite moment of their time on the stage came in the beginning of “Islands” where the band momentarily found themselves off time, laughed it off apologized for “fucking up” and only moments later made the recorded version of the song seem laughably unimportant, managing to encapsulate what makes them so special in one single song. This may seem a bit off point, but I happened upon someone's blog who also managed to catch the show, and they made mention that the crowd seemed absolutely dead. In my mind there's two ways to look it, while yes, the audience was exceptionally low key for the bulk of The XX's set, it was most certainly not for a lack of interest, or because the band itself was anything other than perfect, which they were, but rather because the majority of the people watching the show were doing just that... and doing so intently. So I took it for what is was, a sign of people enjoying something remarkable, and make no mistake, that's the word at play.

With The XX's departure it was now time for something completely different. And that something came in the form of Friendly Fires. If you haven't had the chance to check out Friendly Fires yet, then you must not be a big fan of your ears. Their unique blend of disco, electro, and rampaging African rhythms is an amazing bombastic wall of sound that's just teeming with energy.

And while I thought that their eponymous album was already bursting at the seams, their live show is that much more vibrant. Singer Ed Macfarlane exploded onto the stage and danced almost twice as much, and nearly twice as hard as he sang, which was no small feat considering that he still managed to be pitch perfect through all of it. So I guess it's totally understandable that girls (and some boys) utterly lost their minds when they heard the deep bass grooves of “Lovesick” the bands opener, a song that also just so happens to showcase what's so special about Ed's voice, an almost Kele Okereke, and still manages to find a space all his own. That same presence of strength was definitely on display through their performance of “Jump in my Pool” which was backed up by the equally capable drumming, and guitar extravaganza courtesy of Edd Gibson and Jack Savidge, and while I know that Macfarlane handles the bass duties on their albums, they did have an amazing bass player for their live line-up whose name I can not seem to find.

So with my apologies to him for not knowing his name, I would also be lying if I didn't say he did an excellent job at filling in in Macfarlane's stead. Still no sign of letting up they moved into another fan favorite, and one of their most well known songs “Skeleton Boy” and tore through it like it were mere child's play. However it's safe to say that the song that defined their performance was “Kiss of Life” a song from their recent re-release of their self titled debut. The song's undeniable dancing power was indisputable, and even the most distracted of kids had to momentarily glimpse up from their iPhone's viewing screen to watch the show with their own eyes, and hell some of them even danced. If there was anything to take away from Friendly Fires time on the stage it was this. These guys are much better live than their recorded selves. And by the time they rolled out the encore performance of “Lover Boy” I had gone from simply impressed to full blown school boy adoration.

As I think back on the night, the one common thread between sets was that each and every one of these artists puts on a live show that is far superior to anything that they have committed to an album. Which last time I checked, was kind of the point. It's just nice to see that some people still get it.

Girls @ the Troubador

Written By: Justin Rands

View all our Girls photos here.

Guitarist, founder, headline-making Christopher Owens took Troubador's stage Friday night dressed in a ripped black ‘Rush’ t-shirt, red tights, and white orthopedic shoes. His hair was greasy, matted down and hanging in front of his face. J R White, bassist, founder, followed behind him, dressed in plaid, with a demeanor of complete comfort with where he was.

‘Girls’, and there definitely were a fair share of them in the crowd, have certainly ‘made it’. From 9.1 ratings on Pitchfork, best new music on blogs across the country, controversial videos involving men’s penis’s and San Francisco’s youthful underbelly, the boys have taken everything in stride and remain the front runner for one of the top Indie albums of 2009.

I, after living in San Francisco myself for seven years, still hadn’t gotten a chance to see them until tonight. Their album is definitely at the top of my list this year, and maybe one of the tops for the decade for me as well, and I looked forward to seeing if the album ‘Album’ would transmit well onstage.

The lights dimmed and the band began with ‘Ghost Mouth’, a slow methodical tune about being lost in life, confused, the type of song most people can connect with when they lose their path. “I’ve got nothing to do and nobody to see, no where to go and nobody to be” Owens, whined, with his eyes closed.

The album is packed full with heartbreak, as Owens has gone through a fair amount of it, dealing with breakups, breaking free from Children of God cults he was forced to be in during his youth, and the adjustment of living to a new city without a direction in sight. His stage presence isn’t demanding, and he stammers nervously when speaking between songs, something he claims ‘he still isn’t good at doing’ oddly enough, but because of these things you can’t help but feel that Owens is a unique talented individual.

They played their whole album, with people responding mostly to their top hits ‘Lust for Life’ and ‘Hellhole Ratrace’. The songs translated OK on stage, there’s no way that they could give the same feel of the album live, because there are far too many small nuances spread throughout that make the album what it is. At some points I couldn’t hear other guitarist or the brave guy who played tambourine throughout the whole show at all but they made it work.

The show was a success, offering us a small glimpse of what the real side of San Francisco is all about. I feel that out of all the bands coming out from the Bay Area that ‘Girls’ has really controlled their image well, creating a cohesive yet interesting portrait of the youth growing up in this society and some of the thoughts that consume them.

Papa Roach, Jet, After Midnight Project @ Club Nokia

Written By: Jim Markunas
(Editor-In-Chief)

Photos By: Ed Hannigan

View all of Ed’s Papa Roach photos here.

Papa Roach is one of the best rock bands in American history. This is a documented fact.

I saw Papa Roach for the first time when they were touring off of Infest, and they blew me away. I had been resistant to listening to their music because Jacoby had made the grave mistake of comparing Papa Roach to Nirvana in an interview (this was the taboo of my generation). They were on the bill with 9 other bands at one of those Q101 shows at the United Center in Chicago, and I wasn’t exactly looking forward to their set. They took the stage wearing matching outfits, as they were going for a “roach” theme back then. Each member wore a black t-shirt tucked into a pair of black jeans. I stood there with my arms crossed, waiting for them to change my mind about them… which is exactly what they did!

Not only did they end their set by smashing all of their instruments, but Jacoby had spent 2-3 songs running through the audience; the United Center is an arena, mind you, but that didn’t hinder his mission to climb ever tier while belting out his then-signature style of alt/rap-metal. The crowd (myself included) went nuts! From that day forward, I was a die-hard Papa Roach fan. It didn’t matter that football players listened to them (the same reason I stopped listening to Korn), it didn’t matter that Jacoby had called Papa Roach ‘the next Nirvana,’ and it for sure didn’t matter that they were an overnight success (or what seemed like it at the time) – The only thing that mattered was that Papa Roach cemented their status as one of the greatest metal bands of this decade (at least in my mind).

I saw them 6 months later at the Ozzfest (remember that shit?). Any doubt I had about Papa Roach’s Rock God status was quickly demolished as they took the stage and started a riot… literally. The Ozzfest was at the Tweeter Center in Tinley Park. The Tweeter, in addition to having a stupid name, was famous for it’s exclusionary pricing structure. Seats in the front cost 8-9 times as much as lawn seats, which were so far away from the stage (which was also hidden under a giant bandshell) that concert-goers had no chance of seeing the band if they had the misfortune of buying a lawn seat. Needless to say, people were pissed.

Papa Roach ripped into “Between Angels and Insects,” and the ‘have-nots’ decided to take action. Hundreds of disaffected lawn-seaters began to rip huge chunks out of the lawn and hurl them full-force at the ‘haves’ seated under the band shell. The sky went black as large chunks of dirt and sod flew against the patrons in their seats. The people under the band shell began to throw their garbage, pieces of the lawn, and $10 cups of full beer at the people seated in the lawn. It was a full-scale riot of epic proportions, and there was nothing anyone could do to stop it.

Papa Roach continued to play as the shit kept flying. At one point a chunk of lawn smacked Jacoby clean across the face. He fell to the floor, and the band screeched to a halt. The music stopped, hell, even the flying garbage fight stopped. Everyone stood in silence, waiting to see his reaction. He calmly got up off the floor, walked to the mic, and said, “Stop that shit!” Papa Roach began to play again, and as soon as the first note came out of Jerry’s guitar, the pieces of lawn and garbage once again began to fly, and didn’t stop until Linkin Park took the stage 40 minutes later.

Since then, Papa Roach has changed drastically; they no longer rap, Dave’s no longer in the band, Jacoby is half the size he was in 2001 (but with the energy he puts into the music, you’d think he was 10 feet tall and bulletproof), and Jerry’s hair rivals that of any rock star in touch with their artistic side. Seriously, Jerry – You have perfect hair! He spent 75% of the set headbanging, yet not a single hair came out of place. If I ever decide to grow my hair out, I’m going to Jerry for grooming advice.

Backtracking a little, the last time I saw Papa Roach live was when they recorded Live and Murderous in Chicago, a great show, but not nearly as awesome as their ‘riot-inciting’ set at the Tweeter. I moved to L.A., P. Roach put out The Paramour Sessions, and because I wanted to get a free copy of it, was inspired to start an online magazine… so Thanks, Papa Roach! Anyhow, I wasn’t sure how Paramour and Metamorphosis would translate live, so I was exceptionally excited to see Papa Roach play the Nokia (not to mention After Midnight Project, the band we’re championing for obvious reasons, was going to be there as well).

My one gripe of the night: After Midnight Project got stuck with the worst time slot, opening for the opening band, Johnny No-Talent, or something like that; I don’t remember their name (a.) because it was too long, and (b) because they sucked more balls than a Vietnamese Hooker. However, After Midnight Project didn’t seem to mind the shitty time slot, and brought the house down as if they were the headlining band. What I love about AMP is their ability to not only win over any crowd in a matter of minutes (they actually got the crowd to mosh and dance, RARE as fuck for an opening band), but also their sheer talent and craft. If you haven’t read our “5 Reasons Why After Midnight Project is the Next Big Thing” article, I suggest you do so. (check out Ed’s AMP Pics)

Johnny no-talent or something played the soundtrack to our cigarette/bathroom break, and then Jet took the stage. Remember Jet? In 2002, they were HUGE with radio hit after radio hit, and then one day they disappeared. I have to admit, the only song I’ve ever heard by Jet is “Cold Hard Bitch,” in my opinion their best song, so I wasn’t sure what to expect. My friend Jeremy had told me before their set that Jet is a killer live band (in his words almost as good as Papa Roach), so I was holding them to ridiculously high standards. To my absolute delight, they opened with “Cold Hard Bitch,” and proceeded to wow me with every song. A little about Jet: They have the swagger of 1970s Led Zeppelin, the vocal chops of AC/DC, and the guitar skills of Pete Townsend. If you made the Beatles less pussy-ish and forced them to have sex with AC/DC, you’d have Jet, Aussie rockers that make the feel good, Hive’s-inspired classic rock throwback of the early 00’s seem relevant again. – Not to mention the singer is a member of the tribe, which makes me happy!

If you have a chance to catch Jet live on their next US tour, I suggest you do so (check out Ed's Jet pics).

Papa Roach came on next, and kicked ass. (What else can I say?). Like I said earlier, Jerry Horton has the world’s best hair. In addition, they brought the house down. Their material from Paramour and Metamorphosis (also the name of Hilary Duff’s first album… ironic), translated fairly well live. The second or third song of the set was “Lifeline,” which as we all know, showcases the coolest guitar riff of 2009. The reason I mention this is because I've been listening to "Lifeline" for the past few months in awe of the riff (you gotta see Jerry play it live!)

Jacoby brought After Midnight Project singer, Jason Evigan back out on stage to perform "Hollywood Whore," it was a seminal rock 'n' roll torch-passing moment. Unfortunately, we don't have pictures (the press is only allowed to photograph the first three songs. Why? Not sure, let me ask Ed.)

Jim pauses writing article to call Ed Hannigan.

Jim: Ed! Why didn't we get any pics of Jason on stage with P-Roach? How come they only let photographers photograph the first three songs?

Ed: Not sure. I think clubs truly believe that something magical happens in the fourth song that if photographed, would end the world as we know it.

Jim: Fuckin' ridiculous! Gotta go, writing the P. Roach review.

During their performance of “Had Enough,” Jacoby jumped off stage and ran through the audience, hugging people and slapping fives to what seemed like everyone in the club. If anything, Club Nokia is too small of a venue for Papa Roach, a band that deserves to sell out arenas across the U.S. So, P. Roach… If you’re reading this, the next time you’re in L.A., I want to see you play the Gibson in Universal City!

With the exception of Johnny No-Talent, this show was the line-up of the century. Please see Papa Roach's tour dates and World Hunger Year news. In addition to being a great band, they're also great altruists.

Rockers Give Back To LA Youth @ The Avalon

Written By: Juanita Camfield
(L.A. Nightimer)

Photos By: Ed Hannigan

View all of Ed's L.A.Y.N. photos here.

Sunday November 22nd, 2009 - The Los Angeles Youth Network hosted a sold out concert, LAYN ROCKS presented by Slash and Friends, at The Avalon in Hollywood. The event was hosted by comedian George Lopez and rock headliners Slash and Ozzy Osbourne. The night’s acts featured collaborative performances by Slash, Ozzy Osbourne, Perry Farrell, Billy Idol, Travis Barker, Chester Bennington, Andrew Stockdale, Dave Navarro, and an opening performance by Juke Kartel.

The night was full of surprises, with Slash and Friends rocking out to Led Zeppelin’s “Immigrant Song” and “Tangerine”, Thin Lizzy’s “Jailbreak”, Wolfmother’s Andrew Stockdale belted out “Woman”, and “By The Sword” off of Slash’s upcoming album. A surprisingly bad ass performance by Chester Bennington during the Zeppelin song “Good Times, Bad Times”. Billy Idol performed “Out Ta Get Me” and “Rebel Yell”. Bennington also nailed “Slither” along with “Paradise City” performed by Stephen Adler on drums and Duff McKagan on bass! Perry Farrell sang “Mountain Song”, “Sympathy For The Devil”, and an unforgettable version of “Jane Says”. Ozzy Osbourne began his set with “I Don’t Know”, “Iron Man”, “Crazy Train”, and ended the night with an unforgettably sung “Paranoid.”

The Los Angeles Youth Network, LAYN, is a non-profit organization devoted to ending “homelessness one kid at a time”. At one of the three LAYN homes the youths (12-21 years old) that come through are provided with what many take for granted – a place to sleep, food in their stomach, water, medical services and even counseling, as most come from abuse, were neglected, or abandoned. Without LAYN many of these kids would become a part of the frightening reality that, “Nearly 150,000 people live on the streets of Los Angeles” and that out of that large number “Over 10,000 kids sleep on the street in abandoned buildings and under freeways each night.”

It's because of charitable donations made by regular folks like you and I that help the Los Angeles Youth Network provide these kids with “9000 home nights, 13000 meals, 6500+ hours of counseling, 1000 hours of education and tutoring, and 300+ arts and recreation hours” per year. Imagine if no one contributed to these kids and future adults’ lives.

LAYN not only helps youths now, it helps prepare them for the future. Their services provide at risk youths with transitional living programs, vocational and placement services, independent living and job training, that helps to make sure that each kid “successfully completes the permanent transition away from street life to a safe and secure living environment to fully participate in society”. LAYN graduate and fellow guitarist/bass player Jill Avilez, shared why the program is still so important to her. She says, “I was lucky to end up at L.A.Y.N. The program and its supportive staff helped save my life and pull me out of my darkest times. I can wholeheartedly say that if I didn't end up at the Beachwood house I most likely would have committed suicide. They helped me get back into Hollywood High School and influenced me to get better grades and focus more on my arts.

They supported my creative self when almost no one else did and it and gave me the confidence to be the unique individual that I am today. I was guided with the tools to help overcome deep mental and emotional trauma and emancipated the program a high school graduate to go on to a 4 year State University to pursue my artistic ambitions". Jill is one of the fortunate“80% of our youth” who “exit our program to live successfully with their families, in foster or group home placements, or independently.”

Jill reminds us that “Not all youth get a chance to explore their own potential and have supporters who genuinely care about their growth and development. And not all youth can find their way to L.A.Y.N., but L.A.Y.N. needs to be there for the ones that do”. Hopefully along with the celebrity rockers that helped host the LAYN ROCKS concert there will also be more attention to keeping kids off the streets and into a home where they are truly cared for by individuals who want to shed light on an otherwise potentially dark road.

Rooney @ The El Ray

Written By: David Carr
Photos By: Karen Curley

View all of Karen's Rooney photos here.

If you were a fan of the OC or possibly watching MTV in 2003 (back when MTV was still attempting to play music videos) you may remember Rooney. Rooney burst onto the scene with a debut disc that was one part modern rock and there parts Beach Boys/ELO and Southern California sound. They had (and still have) enough hooks to stock a bait and tackle shop, but thanks to a ton of record label hang-ups, it took four years for their follow up to be released. Within that time the band actually recorded two discs that their record label passed on. With record label woes behind them, the band is gearing up to release their third disc next year and to celebrate they are heading out on the road this winter to say hi to their fans and test out some new material. They kicked off their tour with a show at the El Rey Theater Thanksgiving weekend.

After a couple of openers, Rooney took the stage to the screams and squeals of their adoring young fans. Thanks to relentless touring the band is still in fine form as a live act. Lead vocalist/frontman Robert Schwartzman still retains his melodic vocals and rock and roll swagger and the band still has their signature harmonies intact. Since this was the first night of the tour, the group is still working out a few kinks such as a new tune sung by their drummer that fell flat and some key harmonies that may need some polishing.

The band is at its best however, when it comes to spinning tales of boy meets girl and when they hit the pocket on tunes such as “Blueside” and “Shakin”. It is clear that there is still an innocence and sincerity within that band and one might be hard pressed to find both of those attributes in today’s cookie cutter boy bands and emo outfits. Time may not be on their side but the group proved on a Friday night that they are still alive, kickin’ and looking forward to a great winter tour and busy New Year.

Rooney Tour Dates:
November 28, 2009 - The Glass House - Pomona, CA
November 29, 2009 - Slim's - San Francisco, CA
November 30, 2009 - WOW Hall - Eugene, OR
December 1, 2009 - Hawthorne Theatre - Portland, OR
December 2, 2009 - El Corazon - Seattle, WA
December 4, 2009 - In the Venue - Salt Lake City, UT
December 5, 2009 - Bluebird Theater - Denver, CO
December 7, 2009 - Station 4 - St. Paul, MN
December 8, 2009 - House of Blues - Chicago, IL
December 9, 2009 - Majestic Theatre - Detroit, MI
December 10, 2009 - Beachland Ballroom - Cleveland, OH
December 11, 2009 - Webster Hall - New York City, NY
December 12, 2009 - Club Stage - Baltimore, MD
December 13, 2009 - Middle East Underground - Cambridge, MA
December 16, 2009 - The Loft - Atlanta, GA
December 17, 2009 - Tipitina's Uptown - New Orleans, LA
December 18, 2009 - Meridian - Houston, TX
December 19, 2009 - Emo's - Austin, TX
December 20, 2009 - Granada Theater - Dallas, TX
December 22, 2009 - Club Congress - Tucson, AZ

Them Crooked Vultures @ Roseland Theater

Written By: Sebastian Barnum
Photos By: Emily Rex

View all of Emily's them Crooked Vultures photos here.

Portland, OR - So here’s the story of my life. I waited for four hours in a line of awkward middle-aged people interspersed with diehard fans only to get in the building and find out that the venue lost my tickets. After waiting for 25 minutes, the lady realized that they were hiding under her big, fat floppy grandma bingo wing arms, and she kindly apologizes, as I head upstairs to a sold out show, which I am in the ass end of. However there is a light at the end of every tunnel (as long as it’s not night time.)

After sitting through what was an admittedly terrible opening band doing 80’s cover songs for 30 minutes, the lights came up and I felt hope again. Then I noticed a security guard I knew smiling at me, I asked for a favor, and he took me to the front of the crowd. Then, after waiting for a few minutes, the lights went down. As soon as Dave Grohl almost fell over his drums, and John Paul Jones Played a ten string slide bass, all the crap from earlier just melted away.

Needless to say, a band with a god, a legend and a madman is going to be quite awesome. However, I can promise you, I was blown away. I completely underestimated Josh Holm as both a front man and a guitar player. He was fantastic, and it’s a shame he is more famous for his random outbursts at audiences than anything else. Dave Grohl was fantastic. I have never seen a drummer with that level of energy having such precision and accuracy with his instrument. Of course, the most impressive person of the evening was Mr. John Paul Jones. His sheer mastery of not only bass, but also the piano was exhilarating, and stunning at the same time.

Because the album had only come out four days prior to the show, the crowd was total crap. At one point Josh turned to the audience and asked “You guys still with us?” It was clear that those who were there, including me, were attending purely out of respect and admiration for the musicians rather than the music. However, the show that was put on by this fantastic trio was amazing none the less. I would say it was the third best show I have ever seen, which is quite a statement.

The set was essentially the band’s first album on shuffle, but that’s not to say it was no better than listening to the recording. The album in no way captures the heavy, funky, grimy, energetic sound that is “Them Crooked Vultures.” There were a few moments that completely made the evening; the most memorable would be Josh’s drunken performance of “Interlude With Ludes,” a Hawaiian sounding song that resembles both an acid trip and an orgasm. He began by playing the slide guitar intro, then quickly put down the guitar, picked up a beer, and began to hula.

Another aspect that made the show great, were these two moments during songs during which the band would just start making stuff up. Not to seem cliché, but it was very “Zeppelin-esque.” Between Holms intricate and flawless guitar work, Grohls pounding of the drums like a pissed off teenager, and Jones’ funky bass riffs, it fit perfectly into that delicate gap between chaos and beauty.

Finally, as this evening seemed to be past the point of perfection, John Paul Jones sat down at his piano, and played the most gorgeous melody. It was reminiscent of “No Quarter” but this piece clearly had its very own motif. As he played through the intro of “Spinning In Daffodils” I couldn’t help but be moved, that was until Josh Holm and Dave Grohl begin the pounding and grinding that could make a mute cry out in anticipation. After they completed that song, they moved on to the finale (Gunman,) at which point Jones picks up the most incredible bass ever created. A custom made ten string bass that lights up when you hit a note. I felt like a child staring at a ray gun.

All in all, the evening was fantastic. Once I moved on from the crappy circumstances and went on to the jaw dropping band, everything seemed to work out. The band was flawless, and that was from the perspective of someone who really didn’t expect anything from Josh Holm, and knew none of the songs on the set. As a person who is now a diehard fan of both the musicians and the music, I can promise you, you don’t want to miss this band.

DJ Tiesto @ The Shrine Auditorium 11/28/09

Written By: Darwin Green
(Senior Editor)

Photos By: Susana Capra

View all of Susana's DJ Tiesto photos here.

The Shrine auditorium boasts modish yet Moorish architecture. Gentle arches, in the style seen typically in a mosque, adorn the walls and some of the entranceways. One would, in a building designed like this, wonder if it lined up with Mecca if not for the glowsticks, fishnet stockings, dyed hair in all shapes and sizes, and oversized furry boots on its male and female patrons.

Before I walked in, I wondered how much the rave scene had changed since I had been to my last rave, about seven years ago. Not much had changed, and the variables were all there. There were the people already rolling, with their friends spinning light shows in front of their eyes with bright LED lights instead of incandescent lights. There were still the electric vibrators, though now I saw them on people’s fingertips like gloves instead of those awkwardly huge ones back in the day. There were the couples who lounged on pillows outside, caught up silently in their own state of bliss apart from the crowd. There were the candy ravers, with beaded elastic bands clear up to their elbows in their bright orange clothing. And there were also the dancers, who spasmed and spun in place. The differences were minor, at most. Everyone had a cell phone. All the raver toys had been updated. Looking on above the crowd one saw them like the fish found at the deepest depths of the ocean spinning and whirling through the sea of people.

The visuals behind the opening act were nothing but Heineken ads. Indeed, it looked like Heinekin placed its ads everywhere within eyesight. I wanted to grab a beer, but the bars only accepted cash, and the one ATM in the place was “offline.”

The music of the opening act took hold of the crowd strong enough and for a sufficient length of time that they swayed and danced as though with one mind. The energy started to build almost right from the beginning, and continued as everybody’s drug of choice started to kick in. I realized that I had on a nice sweater and a pair of jeans, coming from a post-Thanksgiving lunch with my family. I felt like the undercover cop who’s out of touch with fashion trends as I walked around the venue, though after sitting down for less than five minutes someone gave me a blunt and left me to smoke it by myself midway through it. Then a girl, walking past us, asked us one by one:

“Rolls? Anyone? Rolls?”

I felt less self-conscious after she asked me, as though the way I dressed, in a strange way, fit in enough for her to even approach me.

When Tiesto kicked on I happened to be at the right place at the right time. The openers left the stage with an intense, emotional track playing. Tiesto walked up to the turntables and CDJs and powered the song up to its peak amidst the rise of every IPhone, camera, blackberry, and other portable video recording device in the house. By this time the joint started to kick in, and suddenly I saw the incredible visuals displayed behind him.

In a moment I went from being a skeptic towards Tiesto to becoming mesmerized by the entire performance. The strobes in front of the visual display hypnotized me with the effects caused by the combination of both, synced perfectly with every little musical choice he made onstage, as though each sample, each fade and transition, caused the visual behind it to appear onscreen and timed with the strobes. Skulls, women who sang the vocals, wild patterns of light and waves, all drifted in and out of the view, sometimes accompanied with a burst of smoke and, occasionally, complete darkness where suited. The meld of music and visuals, to me, held the price of the ticket.

Big Lovin' Panda @ Club Good Hurt

Written By: Natalie Hamingson
Photos By: Karen Curley

View all of Karen's Big Lovin' Panda Photos here.

Big Lovin Panda Dose Out the Tunes at Club Good Hurt’s “Medicinal Mondays”

After funk pop-rock band Big Lovin’ Panda’s November 23rd show at Culver City’s Club Good Hurt, front man Alex Schneiderman remarked that it wasn’t one of their best performances, but I never would have guessed that the band’s impressive set was actually an off night for them.

So far this year, the Los Angeles band has enjoyed residencies at the Good Hurt for “Medicinal Mondays,” featuring Emilee Wilson’s Vertigirls, a non-stripping pole dancer troupe, and at the Unknown Theater in Hollywood, which will host the band’s release show on December 12th for their upcoming seven song EP, “Trinkets.”

The group started between guitarist Tony Ferrara and bassist Tal Weinman. Their name is the result of a misheard “otherwise unpronounceable intimate gesture” described by Tal to Tony over loud speakers at a concert. (When Tal clarified that “Big Lovin Panda” was not what he had said, Tony responded, "Either way, I want you to go home and do the big lovin panda, and report back to me tomorrow. ") Alex, who pays the bills by working as an audio engineer at The Roxy Theatre, was added to the mix in 2008. In 2009, Tony’s college buddy from USC, Sean Whalen was recruited on drums.

Big Lovin Panda is completely self-promoted and distributed, and Alex, says they want to keep it that way. On the band’s reverbnation.com page, they describe their sound as “Disco blasting out of the rolled down windows of a hearse raised on monster truck wheels, with just married cans clanging melodically behind.”

While songs on the band’s MySpace playlist, such as “Change of Pace” don’t especially standout over computer speakers, their live songs sound like what radio should be playing. Tal’s funky bass lines make for groove-tastic music, accompanied by Alex’s vocals, which are sort of Brandon Boyd-esque when he’s not occasionally screaming.

Thus far, all of their material has been dispensed online. As I alluded to before, the songs available now do not do justice to Big Lovin Panda’s talent. Luckily, the sound on recent mixes of “Trinkets” pops much more than the compressed MySpace tracks.

Aside from being musically in tune with each other, the sharply dressed band was also stylistically in synch. Later that night, drummer Sean Whalen joked that the band’s two month business plan was to buy boots with funds earned from the EP, when photographer Karen Curley noted how well coordinated the band was.

Between songs, Alex held pole dancer roll call, as he announced each dancer’s arrival to the stage (“It’s Tiffany Time!”). Though Big Lovin’ Panda are fun to watch onstage, I have to admit it was sometimes difficult to keep my eyes on the band, with lingerie clad women performing incredible gymnastic feats in three-to-six inch platform heels off to the side.

The band will hit the road next spring, starting on the West Coast, and hopefully ending in Austin, Texas, where the band wish to play South by Southwest. Though the band is still waiting to hear if they are accepted, Texas native Sean says they may show up for the festivities, even if they aren’t formally invited.

Fanfarlo in PDX

Written By: Chris Young

Sometimes you forget just how good live music can sound. Crisp horns, whispering strings, and even clanking watering cans.

When about halfway though Fanfarlo's set, you have a "Wow!" moment. And you look around the Doug Fir to the rest of the 20 and 30-somethings tapping along, smiling blissfully. They're thinking exactly the same thing.

On Fanfarlo's first jaunt to PDX, they got their van broken into but that didn't subdue their set. Rather, they took the stage as a trio with a mandolin, guitar and drums to gently strum into the calming darkness.

Then the white Xmas lights were flipped and the band became six, complete with sleek harmonization and a lone horner on "I'm A Pilot." Percussionist Amos Memon delicately generated rolling thunder on the cymbals with his white-tipped mallets while multi-instrumentalist Cathy Lucas twanged a hand saw along with her performance of lullaby oooh-ooooh vocals and on the violin, guitar, and keys.

With a foot stomping, a cappella opening to "The Walls Are Coming Down," Fanfarlo produced a tight, precise sound that was perfumed by the whiskey drifting from my neighbor's plastic Dixie cup.

Trumpeter Leon Beckenham also picked up the world's smallest, red tambourine while co-lead singer Simon Balthazar snatched as many instruments as he could including a clarinet towards the end of the set.

The London sextet appeared very prim and proper, more like proper-hip, onstage building up to a super-synthy rendition of "Luna" with a calming interlude where Beckenham swapped his horn for a melodica to close the night.

New York's Freelance Whales opened the night with Jónsi-style bowing of the guitar strings and xylophone chimes. Banjos strummed. Electro-inclined synths chirruped. And all five members blended vocals into indubitable, indie pop.

Foggy echoes of drawn out moans and aaaahhs floated around portable harmonium pumps and the bow was employed on something that looked like a cross between a birdcage-hamster wheel-giant whisk, but turned out to be a waterphone. Obviously.

Freelance Whales even beat a tin watering can in a "Do-Re-Mi"-esque jam leaving behind a serene, familial vibe.

---
Thursday, November 19th, 2009
Fanfarlo
Freelance Whales
Doug Fir Lounge

Dir En Grey @ The House Of Blues

Article and Photos By: Mehra B.

View all of Mehra's Dir En Grey photos here.

Anytime Dir En Grey plays North America is a monumental event. Most acts from overseas that try to crossover into international markets have about as successful music careers as Macho Man Randy Savage (yes, he made a record). But Dir en Grey, a progressive/metal band that got its start in Japan's visual Kei movement of the 90's, has managed to avoid the same ill-fated mistakes of other crossover acts like Japan's Hikaru Utada, and Korean pop sensation BoA.

On Sunday, November 22nd, fans lined up outside the House of Blues on Sunset Blvd in Los Angeles and waited two and a half hours for the show to begin. No opening acts, no time fillers--just Dir en Grey, and Dir en Grey fans. As the curtain opened and the band took the stage, the crowd cheered "Kill! Kill! Kill! Kill!" - what's known as the "GDS chant" to DEG fans.

The band opened the show with the deep bass of "Obscure," and by the third song, the crowd had almost completely pushed the barricade to the stage. Fans were treated to a set of about 14 songs, with the first half being mostly songs from their first and third records (Gauze and Kisou), and the second half of the set being dominated by their newer and heavier material. "Bottom of Death Valley" and the five song encore that kicked off with "Akuro no Oka" and ended with the "IID Empire" were the highlights of the show.

With a vocal range and ability that could make even Mariah Carey look like an amateur, singer Kyo's voice was on point throughout the entire performance; hitting every high note, screech, growl, and sound unknown to mankind perfectly. However, missing from his performance was the inclusion of his infamous stage antics of vomiting and self-mutilation. Nonetheless, the band put on a solid show, that had every person in the venue pumping their fists, singing along, or putting up metal horns. Even the 50-something-year-old woman standing next to me was rocking her hips and taking pictures on her mobile phone.

The audience was a healthy mix of culturally diverse fans who--for the most part--seemed to be long-term devotees, with the Hot Topic kinder-goth crowd almost completely absent. At the end of the encore, the band members took to the stage one by one to bow to and applaud the fans; throwing out bags of guitar picks, drum sticks, and bottled waters. Attendees who purchased the band's new release Uroboros CD/DVD were also treated to a full band meet-and-greet after the show.

The intimate setting, common thread among fans, and mutual appreciation between band and fans provided for an incredibly personal and outstanding music experience which I have never witnessed by a band of such stature, and wouldn't mind seeing more of in the future. Note to American bands: Dir en Grey is giving you a run for your money.

Thanks to Amy @ The End Records for making this review and accompanying photos possible.

Snoop Dogg @ Club Nokia 11/19/09

Written By: Jim Markunas
(Editor-In-Chief)

Photos By: Ed Hannigan

View all of Ed’s Snoop Dogg photos here.

If you’re not a fan of Snoop Dogg, you truly lack any sense of taste, musical knowledge, or history. Trust me, I know these things; I’m the editor of a magazine. Personally, I’m a long-time fan of Snoop (so is my mother).

Doggystyle was the very first album (tape, actually) that I ever owned. One of the kids in my 4th grade class gave it to me after his mother caught him listening to it, and informed him that his taste in uber-classic West Coast Gangsta shit was inappropriate for a 10-year-old. But was it? At 9-and-a-half years old, I didn’t think so! I would sit in my room for hours listening to Snoop’s first solo record. I often went to bed listening to the tape. I used to fast-forward past “Lodi Dodi,” because it wasn’t a very good song, and “Serial Killer” because it scared me; after all, I was only 9. I’d even go as far as to say that Doggystyle helped shape me into the distinguished young man that I am today.

One day, like and idiot, I managed to get my copy of the tape confiscated. My mom and I had been driving home from summer camp when I suddenly asked, “Mom, what does ‘nigga’ mean?”

I had never heard that particular word before (before Doggystyle that is), and was genuinely confused about its meaning. A look of absolute disgust and horror overtook my mother’s face as she slammed on the breaks and yelled, “Where did you learn that word?!?! At Camp?!?!”

“No,” I replied, “I heard Snoop say it… numerous times.”

“Snoopy? The Peanuts character? That doesn’t make any sense!”

“No! Snoop Dogg!”

“Who’s Snoop Dogg?”

“The best rapper ever!”

When we got home, I showed her the tape. Remember the cartoon/comic strip that made up the cover art for Doggystyle? It chronicled a typical day in the life of my Uncle Snoop, that involved getting high on Hocus Pocus (stress, cess, or ‘bad weed’), brandishing several handguns at neighbors (everyone in the comic was depicted as half dog, half man, mind you) and ended with Snoop getting it on with a bitch (literally, a female dog… or half woman, half dog) from the back. Well… When my mother saw all of that, she was horrified. Non-sequitur: What the fuck was up with MC Hammer’s “Pumps and a Bump?” Anyone remember that? That was WAY more horrifying!

Anyhow, she took the tape… and started listening to it herself. A few days later, we were driving in the car, and I decided to turn on the radio; Doggystyle came blaring out of the speakers. Yes… I caught my hypocritical mother listening to Snoop Dogg. She gave me an embarrassed look and said, “You were right, he is the best rapper ever.” She gave me back the tape, and the rest is history.

About Snoop's Club Nokia appearance... Unfortunately, Ice Cube, The Game and Kanye West are in a three-way tie for my personal best rapper ever award (bumping my Uncle Snoop Dogg down to 4th place just above Dr. Dre), but Snoop is hands-down THE best celebrity and performer I’ve ever seen! Again, if you don’t agree, you have no A&R skills (smiles).

I’m was feeling a little burned out this week, so when Snoop opened with “The Shiznit” with Tha Dogg Pound’s Daz and Kurupt as hype men, I nearly shat my pants with jubilant glee. Snoop strolled onto the stage wearing what can only be described as a ‘gang-flag jump suit’ (see pics), and brought the house down for a full two hours. After “Shiznit,” he immediately ripped into “Gin and Juice,” and from there The Dogg Pound broke into “Cali Iz Active.” The rest of the set was an awesometasticgansterfied blur (is that even a word?)

Snoop, and a gang of celebrity guest stars, including Daz, Kurupt, Xzibit, Lady of Rage, RBX, Butch Cassidy, and Too Short performed an eclectic set made up of songs from Doggystyle, Tha Blue Carpet Treatment, DPG’s Cali Iz Active, R&G, Ego Trippin’, Tha Chronic 1 & 2, and various ‘guest star’ singles. Snoop skipped all the unknown stuff from his No Limit/Priority catalog, and it was the perfect set! No offense to EMI, I’m sure going forward, all of Snoop’s releases will continue to be gems. Seriously, Snoop is hot! He may have had a minor 10-year lull from 1996-2006 (excluding his 1999 performance on Chronic 2001), but nowadays, everything Snoop touches turns to gold (or platinum). Every solo album from Tha Blue Carpet Treatment until now, and any single Snoop lends guest vocals to is an instant classic – career-wise, Snoop’s on fire!

Snoop also performed two songs from the upcoming Malice In Wonderland, his first release under his new tenure with EMI/Capitol/Priority (do I have that right?). In addition to being a flagship artist, Snoop is also Priority’s creative director, and with this position may just bring back the West Coast for a third time (the second was when The Game released The Documentary).

I’m a full-fledged believer in Snoop Dogg, a hip-hop legend that’s more musically diverse than Cypress Hill, and more fun to watch than Richard Prior. My recommendation is to not only buy Malice N’ Wonderland when it comes out, but also to catch Snoop live, as he gives any live rock or rap group a run for their money. Uncle Snoopy, I give you an A+ for Thursday’s performance!

Other Highlights: Up-and-coming rapper Diamond Lane played a few songs, including the ultra-West Coast anthem, “I Wanna Get Fucked Up,” before DJ Quick took the stage. Quick hasn’t lost a step in his old age, and got the crowd riled up with his large back catalog of classic West Coast anthems.

The only West Coast celebrities that didn’t make an appearance were Cube, Dre, and The Game.

Essential Snoop Dogg Albums:
Tha Chronic (Dr. Dre)
Doggystyle
Chronic 2001 (Dr. Dre)
Cali Iz Active (Tha Dogg Pound/DPGC)
Tha Blue Carpet Treatment
Ego Trippin’
Death Row: The Lost Sessions Vol. 1
Malice N’ Wonderland

Hot Metal Porn Night @ Hustler Hollywood

Photos By: Karen Curley

View all of Karen's Hustler HPMN photos here.

It's Hot Metal Porn night at Hustler Hollywood where we explored the fusion of metal music and porn sexuality!

Jessica Tezier starred in the London West End production of Rent at the Shaftsbury Theatre. She went on to star, produce and direct in an avant-garde kinky movie called Chiuso. She's outspoken in her attitudes towards sexuality. She's fronted several London bar bands. She does a mean Marilyn Manson cover. She strips when she sings. She's so hot I suggest you wear sunscreen. She was in L.A and came (no pun intended) to Hustler last Thursday for your pleasure. Don't worry. We brought our cameras.

Musical guests for the evening were the Dysphemistic. They put the hard steel in metal combing porn novel prose with hardcore sonic thunder. It's hundred decibel orgasms coming atchya with such classics as Ass To Mouth and No Means Maybe. Put them together with Jessica and you have a night sure to etch another legend into the Sunset Strip rock and roll mythos.

Shotgun Alley @ Key Club

Article and Photos By: A. Mac

View all of A. Mac's Shotgun Alley photos here.

Sounds that echo decades past, and hip swivels that give Shakira a run for her money, Shotgun Alley can put on a show. Arriving at the Key Club I was not exactly sure what to expect... I had done my homework, checked out their Myspace, listened to a song or two but, as we all know, live performances and recordings are two different experiences. It happened to be my first time at the Key Club (I'm a L.A. newbie!) and I was pumped to have Shotgun Alley kick off the work week.

When Shotgun Alley took the stage lights were dim and people were quietly awaiting the first sound. The lights came up and instantly the band jumped into a foot tapping, hair swinging, hip thrusting, ROCK. The energy was intoxicating and the sound penetrating. Shotgun Alley formed in January of 2009 in Auckland, New Zealand. This 6 piece group cites 80s superstars Motley Crue and Alice Cooper.

In fact, they claim to share a bond with Cooper after supporting him on his "Theatre of Death" tour. With multiple instruments and voices their sound is raucous and loud. Rich and full of layers, guitar leads battle in harmony, keyboards swell and lead singer, R.J Kairua dances his ass off.

You've got to give it up to a New Zealand born band playing leather panted wank rock. They aren't striving for Juilliard and the upper echelon's of musical beauty. Their aspirations are pure. Instead, they'd rather American families out to dinner gawk over their glass bound, black leather jackets at Hard Rock Cafe. Wank rock! Bret Michaels! White jeans! And they know you love it.

I could see that they are not a band of misguided day-dreamers brandishing guitars but instead, a representation of an entire lifestyle. And it shows...from top to cowboy boot bottom, drawing a crowd ranging from typical hipster kids, to a handful of tweens, rocker dudes, and even a stripper or two. Their whole appeal is boisterous good times.

Matisyahu @ Horizon Records & The Handlebar

Written By: Victor Alfieri

November 12, 2009 – Greenville, SC - So a Hasidic Jew, reggae/rock/rapper walks into a bar in the “Bible Belt…” No, this is not the beginning of a joke. When Matthew Miller, AKA Matisyahu, rolled into Greenville, SC, I’m sure he had no idea what to expect. There were probably even questions in advance as to how this ended up a stop on his “Light Tour.” After all this town is truly right in the middle of the “Bible Belt” and the Jewish community is limited at best.

What he experienced may have a long-lasting effect on us all. As he has been doing in most cities, he started the evening with a free show to give the fans a taste of what was to come. Horizon Records is a beacon of light in the music industry; an independent music store that has fought the establishment for over 30 years. It was here that the evening started. The store was overwhelmed. The crowd actually spilled out into the parking lot.

What was most intriguing about this crowd was who was in it. Young children, frat boys, dreadlocked hippies and old Jewish ladies had come together to hear a special blend of music that apparently crossed all sorts of cultures, ages, genres and pre-conceived notions. Matisyahu was visibly touched by the attendance. At his suggestion, doors and windows were opened so the crowd outside could hear.

The short set was not quite “unplugged,” but scaled down considerably as he was joined by just the two guitarists and bass player. Matisyahu took care of the percussion himself using his beatbox talents to fill the gaps. The set list focused on the recent album, as well as one track that did not make the cut. The arrangements were subdued and lyrics more heartfelt. It was just a taste of what was to come…

Matisyahu brought his “A” game for the main event that evening, and the sold out crowd at The Handlebar were up for the challenge. Backing him was a stage full of amazing musicians that deserve spotlights of their own. Aaron Dugan (guitar) & Rob Marscher (keyboards), official members of the Matisyahu entity have teamed up with the Dub Trio on this tour. DT, consisting of DP Holmes (guitar), Stu Brooks (bass) & Joe Tomino (drums), are known for their ability to also blend genres seamlessly and, as witnessed, have the ability to bring the funk.

Ripping bass lines and percussion, battling guitar riffs, combined with dubs, samples and keyboard play set the stage for the man in the spotlight and he did not disappoint. For over two hours, the band shifted from rock, to reggae, to funk, all while Matisyahu pounded his positive lyrics and beatbox talents at the crowd. From the first note, the crowd was with him, and as the level of emotion went higher, we all followed as he covered songs, both popular and obscure. “King Without a Crown” and many of the newer songs were big hits with those in attendance.

As the show came to a close, the crowd was frantic and called for the obligatory encore. Special guest Kosha Dillz came out and freestyle rapped for a while about anything that the crowd threw up on stage, including a prescription pill container and somebody’s wallet. The night was set for one final push over the edge. A prolonged version of “One Day,” the current hit off of Light with a stage dive from Matisyahu put the exclamation point on an amazing night.

The crowd was not quite as diverse as the earlier free show, but there were still a few kids out way past there bedtime as well as a few old Jewish ladies sitting in the back. I think the town did the artist justice and I hope it will make him want to come back in the future. As he continues his tour, if he comes to your town, it is truly in your best interest to go see this show. The Matisyahu/Dub Trio combination is worth every penny and then some.

Glassjaw/RX Bandits @ The Mayan

Written By: Steve Sawyer
Photos By: Cindy Guillermo

View all of Cindy's Glassjaw/RX Bandit photos here.

It's been 7 years since Glassjaw released “Worship and Tribute” an album that many people, including myself, consider flawless. A similar amount of time has passed since the band has seriously toured. Aside from a few one off shows, and some short east coast runs throughout the years, Glassjaw has kept a relatively low profile. But if you know anything about the band's history or their absolutely ravenous fanbase, then you know that simply being able to avoid the spotlight is no small feat for the group. With all this in mind I should have been surprised when I strolled up to The Mayan theater to find it sold out, with a line wrapping around the block. I wasn't. So despite the long lines, a fever of 101, and a security guard that didn't seem to understand how crucial the vitamin C in my Topicana orange juice was to my rapidly declining state of health, I troopered on and made my way inside the venue.

The Mayan is extremely well designed for it's size, with an open floor, balcony seating, and bars tucked in every corner, it's architect definitely made the most of it's square footage. We quickly made our way to the barricades in front of the stage so we could catch the first three songs from the energetic opening act, The RX Bandits. When the lights hit, and the band finally took to the stage the entire audience was treated to an inspired drum number where each member of the band had a set of sticks, and a drum to contribute to the raucous percussive bombast. It was spectacular. They blasted seamlessly into their opening number, and I quickly remembered what makes these guys so special, they're impeccable.

Their unique blend of ska, post hardcore, and tight vocal interaction puts them back on my list of “bands I have no excuse to not listen to”. To their credit, Matt Embree, and Steve Choi have an exceptional stage dynamic that shone through their entire performance, defined their stage time, and displayed their vocal strength all at once without so much as a single flaw. For a band that has gone through so many lineup changes, and has had to deal with label issues, and the other typical band crap, it was very refreshing to see them having a blast, and rocking it out.

After a performance that left me wishing I knew more about The RX Bandits recent years, and music, I was ready for some Glassjaw. I didn't have to wait very long at all, as the band wasted no time tearing into some new material.

The new music sounded as fresh and tight as ever, and showed that age has done nothing to take away the bands bite. Whatever doubts Daryl Palumbo, and Head Automatica had put in my head about his ability to still scream his lungs out, were laid to rest. And as he and Justin Beck shredded effortlessly into “Tip Your Bartender”, and fan favorite “Mu Empire” it became immediately clear that this band was in no danger of going soft anytime soon. What's also interesting, is just like The RX Bandits, Glassjaw has had to deal with a major component of their sound disappearing in the form of Todd Weinstock and his guitar, but just like the Bandits, it's done nothing to take away the impact of their music. By the time “Ape Dos Mil” hit the speakers, and the familiar snare roll, and bass lick combo thudded through my chest, the entire crowd was swaying, singing, and swooning all at once.

After the song, we were kicked out of the barricades, and had to quickly find a comfortable spot to watch the rest of the show. We made our way to the left side of The Mayan, and found ourselves between the guard railing and a conveniently placed set of items, in the forms of a guy selling beer, and a trashcan. Taking refuge in my new found sanctuary of alcohol and sanitation I was treated to another new song, which after a short explanation Daryl Revealed to be “Jesus Glue.”

I was utterly surprised at how aggressive the new material is shaping out to be, with Daryl's frequent screams, and an explosive blend of old school hardcore sensibility, and dare I say Latin influences? But even more critical than that is how much the band has matured within their material, the new songs are so much more fleshed out than their previous work and show a band that has used the time away to construct something bulletproof.

And continuing with that trend the highlight of the night for me was an equally bulletproof performance of the almost completely bass powered titular track from the album “Worship and Tribute”, and gauging from the response of the fans, it was theirs too. Bassist Manuel Carrero (Pew Pew) delivered every bass lick with precision, setting up the foundation for the wall of guitar sound that Justin Beck creates on every Glassjaw track. And by the time the climactic end of the song rolled around it was amazingly clear why they've stuck by their drummer Durijah for so long, with every single member watching each other for the slightest cues, it was like watching a performing family, more than it was watching a band going through a set-list of predetermined songs.

So you can understand my disappointment when Daryl announced that they were only playing two more songs. But fortunately one of those last two songs was the “Hotel of the White Locust”
Whatever reserves of energy the boys had been saving up were quickly unleashed, and all hell broke loose. And as he screamed his way through the familiar chorus, “Who could ever, who the fuck could ever. Take place of me?” It became pretty evident by the time hit their second encore “Babe” the answer was a resounding “No one.” Good to have you back Glassjaw.

The RX Bandits are:
• Matt Embree – vocals, guitar
• Steve Choi – guitar, keyboards
• Joseph Troy – bass, backing vocals
• Christopher Tsagakis – drums

Glassjaw is:
• Daryl Palumbo - Vocals
• Justin Beck - Guitars
• Durijah Lang - Drums, Percussion
• Manuel Carrero - Bass

Love Grenades Blow Up Bardot

Story and Photos By: Markus Eliance

View all of Markus' Love Grenades photos here.

When I first arrived at the entrance of the club, I could feel the energy. I was early (apparently an uncommon practice as I would soon learn), and as the bouncers led me through the side alley entrance and up the stairs, the air of exclusivity was upon me. This is the Hollywood the Love Grenades were coming to turn upside down.

With an audience full of derby hats and ironic t-shirts, stylish blondes with pouty lips, and wannabe scenesters drinking imported beer, I waited patiently for the band to arrive. I waded through the crowd in the dance hall to the main room, where the DJ was spinning breakbeats and grooveable dance tracks. Out of nowhere, Smokey Robinson's "Tracks of My Tears" pops out of the speaker. This night is becoming more unpredictable by the minute.

As the minutes go by, I got bold and snuck a seat into the roped-off VIP booth, dead-center with the stage area. I invited a trio of girls to sit with me -- two brunettes, and a blonde sporting one of the aforementioned derby hats. The blonde is from Boston, and chats with me about girls in gun clubs (at the mention of the magazine I work for.) During this small talk, one of the brunettes goes to light her cigarette in the candle on the table; she leaned in seductively to take a drag, and at that moment, accidentally set her hair on fire. Luckily, I moved quickly and lightly grabbed the flaming strands, extinguishing it with my bare hand. Her friends screamed in a mix of shock and embarrassment, but the brunette simply laughed it off with, "I know who's getting a haircut tomorrow." She gave me a kiss and dragged her two companions to the bathroom (probably for damage assessment).

Finally, after two hours have passed, the stage lighting activates, swirling flashes of green, red, and squad car-blue. When Elizabeth Wight, the lead singer, belts out the first few notes of "City Lights", I was taken aback by the sudden wave of musical energy that rushed through the room. I moved closer in to the stage, sitting cross-legged on the floor. It felt like the band was playing in my bedroom. The seating arrangement is so close, that the lead singer took the opportunity to sit in a few laps and pit dive into the crowd. How much more intimate can you get?

The audience was absolutely enthralled with her, as she pranced barefoot across the room. The band's turntablist coolly sipped at his beer in between mixing, and the guitarist, Corey, turned every note he played into a vibrating harmony with Elizabeth's breathy voice. With a pitch that easily rivals any of today's female pop vocalists, she oozes a raw talent that bolsters the sound of each track. It's like the Yeah Yeah Yeah's had made a baby with Daft Punk in a disco hall bathroom.

In the middle of the set, Elizabeth pauses the show to ask for a drink. At least three male audience members struggle to make a break for the bar. She cries through the mike, "Vodka and Cranberry! And some water, too." The whole room feels like a group a friends reuniting after years of being apart. It was that carefree spirit that got everyone in the house grooving like there was no tomorrow. The band blazed through a six-song set, and ended it with an encore of their song "Young Lovers."

I highly recommend you check out the track at their MySpace, as well as the video. I left Bardot that night with a new song stuck in my head, and the remnants of that energy trailing behind me.