Pixies and Mission of Burma, 12/2/2004

So last night was THE concert: Pixies with Mission of Burma at the Tsongas Arena in Lowell. Prior to the show, I kept looking for information about the Pixies’ concerts and was disappointed in the quality of the writing that I found. After last night, I understand; the show was so INDESCRIBABLY WONDERFUL that any attempt to describe it would be FUTILE. But I’ll try anyway, fanboy slobbering aside.

The crowd at last night’s show was an odd mix. Lots of college kids, a bunch of people my age or so, a few gray heads and more than a few high school kids. But all of us seemed united in one thing—none of us seemed like we were typical concert goers; all of us seemed in disbelief that the show was really about to happen. “If they just play ‘Dig for Fire,’ I’ll be happy,” said one fan behind me on the floor. His friend replied, “I’ll settle for ‘Bone Machine.’” His friend said, “Actually, I’d settle for ‘Crackity Jones’…”.

The warm-up act, the Bennies, elicited some surprised laughter when they wheeled out on stage. Yes, wheeled; the Bennies’ lead singer, Jeremy Dubs, is a little person who’s confined to a wheelchair. But he rocked hard when they came out of the gate, at one point headbanging so hard that his glasses flew off. The group played a tight set of mostly short songs, many of which betrayed the Pixies’ influence through frequent meter and tempo changes (though lyrically the group was a lot less surreal than their ticketmates). I’ll look forward to finding their album when it’s released.

Then Mission of Burma took the stage. They started hard, with “The Setup” from their new album, ONoffON, and didn’t let up throughout a hard-edged set that alternated new tunes like “Falling” (which was spectacular live) with influential early material like “Peking Spring,” “Academy Fight Song,” “Fame and Fortune,” “This Is Not a Photograph,” “Dumbells,” “Red,” and of course “That’s When I Reach for My Revolver.”

As I listened to the band, several contradictory thoughts were going through my mind at once. First, few crowd members seemed familiar with the band’s work, which is unfortunate; if Mission of Burma couldn’t get a mosh pit or even a little pogoing started with “Academy Fight Song” less than an hour from their own home town, what the hell was wrong with the world? Second, Roger Miller is an amazingly inventive guitarist, and I wish I had seen his performance with Thurston Moore and Lee Ranaldo at Irving Plaza two years ago. I wasn’t aware of this date last night, but remember thinking distinctly that with Mission of Burma’s songwriting skills and Sonic Youth’s inventive guitar onslaught, you could have a really amazing supergroup…

Third, Clint Conley. For a guy who until 2002 was comfortably retired, living the suburban life (coincidentally, right next door to my B-school stats professor), and working in staid local television, he rocked harder and more passionately than just about anyone I’ve seen recently, hitting the high notes in “Revolver” and “Academy Fight Song” and playing his bass, as a guy on the floor next to me said, “more like a guitar” and with more virtuosity than I’ve heard in a long time. He was briefly on stage before the set started, waving to someone in the crowd, and I saw him shaking hands in the bleachers afterwards. He seemed genuinely thrilled to be back, and he gave me hope. If he could rock that hard being almost 15 years older than me, surely I can afford a little passion of my own at 32.

Finally, the Pixies. Damn. Opening with “Bone Machine,” the band romped through a set that was heavy on early material from Surfer Rosa and Come On Pilgrim (while Doolittle was performed almost in its entirety, they only included one track, “U-Mass,” which was actually one of their earliest songs, from their final album Trompe Le Monde). The band seemed to be relishing the spotlight, drawing energy from the crowd—which was finally pogoing, moshing, and “passing the guy”—and turning it around and channelling it into fiercer and fiercer performances, really almost daring the crowd, saying, “We can outlast you.” And they did—this is the first show where I’ve seen multiple people carried out of the crowd after having fainted or otherwise been overwhelmed.

Mostly the songs were as they had been originally recorded, though they showed no signs of rust for their faithfulness to the original conception. A major exception was “Mr. Grieves,” “Nimrod’s Son,” in which “Frank Black/Black Francis/Charles Thompson” slowed down the second verse to half tempo, to totally devastating impact, and “Vamos,” during which Joey Santiago set up a wall of feedback, set his guitar on a stand, caught a drumstick tossed by David Lovering, and proceeded to play the feedback like a theremin with his hands, the stick, and even his amp cord.

As for setlist, I can only give a rough report as my brain exploded partway through the show, but other songs played included “Velouria” (which was far rockinger than the recorded version), “Is She Weird,” “Wave of Mutilation” (fast version), “Debaser,” “Tame,” “I Bleed,” “Here Comes Your Man,” “Dead,” “Monkey Gone to Heaven,” “Mr. Grieves,” “Crackity Jones” (yes indeedy), “No. 13 Baby,” “Hey,” “Gouge Away,” “Gigantic,” “Where Is My Mind?,” “Broken Face,” “Break My Body,” “Something Against You,” “Cactus,” “The Holiday Song,” “In Heaven,” and “Caribou.”

The onstage chemistry was interesting, with Kim, with a grin that I’ve seen described as “beatific” but I would have to characterize as “shit-eating,” mostly hanging out back at the drum kit with David Lovering, leaving Charles and Joey Santiago covering vast isolated territories up front. But there were some good moments as well, such as Charles busting Kim’s chops for blowing the surprise intro to “In Heaven,” and the Waltons-style “Goodnight Charles…goodnight Joey…goodnight Kim…goodnight David” that lasted for about two minutes in various combinations and repetitions.

The Pixies still have a few shows left on this tour. I don’t care who you have to kill to get a ticket if you haven’t seen them yet. Go have your mind blown.

Suspicious Holidays

It’s always fun to check in with my colleagues in the Suspicious Cheese Lords, the male a cappella ensemble (specializing in Renaissance music) of which I was a member. I just received a postcard advertising Gaudete, their second annual Christmas concert, at the Franciscan Monastery in Washington DC this Saturday at 7:30 pm. If you’re in the greater DC area, you should definitely check out the show.

This month will also see the release of the Cheeselords’ second CD, Missa L’homme armé: Sacred Music of Ludwig Senfl. I’ll update this post with a link as soon as the disc becomes available. Their previous recording, the sublime Maestro di Capella: Music of Elzear Genet, is available used from Amazon or on back order from CD Baby, and should be at their gig as well.

Monkey going to heaven

Boston Globe: Gigantic steps. I read this article with some interest. It’s rare that you see artists come out with a bare statement of fact about the purpose for reunion tours, like the one Frank Black made at the end of the article:

“We’ve had this chip in our back pocket for a long time, and it keeps going up in value,” Black explains. “We’re cashing it in this year.”

The most remarkable thing about the Pixies’ comeback is that none of the participants—the band, the organizers, and especially the media—seem to understand how big the event is. That the Globe, of all papers, would begin this article with the sentence “No one could have predicted the large and passionate crowds that have greeted the band on its first tour in more than a decade,” is the symptom. This is what’s wrong with the music business and music journalism—it doesn’t listen to its customers.

How else could a Pixies reunion be a “surprise” when: (a) the Pixies were the top-downloaded artists on eMusic after they were added to the catalog; (b) KEXP routinely rewards listeners during its pledge drives by playing huge blocks of the Pixies; (c) they were that good. I think anyone who thinks that the Pixies’ greatest contribution to music was inspiring Nirvana either hasn’t listened to the Pixies or doesn’t understand music.

At any rate, I’ll be catching their concert on Thursday, December 2 (happy birthday to me!) at Tsongas Arena, with Mission of Burma opening. I’ll subsequently be visible in your skies sometime early Friday morning as I’ll be orbiting the Earth.

The Complete U2 (almost)

Both “How to Dismantle an Atomic Bomb” and the Complete U2 digital box are available right now from the iTunes Music Store. And what’s catching my attention right now is the latter. All the rarities can be bought by the song, and there are some real rarities, including the Another Day and U23 singles that preceded Boy, the “Passengers” recording with Brian Eno, a ton of b-sides, and the greatest hits sets. Waitaminit—the greatest hits are in there as well as the original recordings? Guess that’s why it’s $149 and not $0.99 a song…

There are also 18 songs listed as “unreleased and rare,” rarer than the B-sides, including some tracks from their sessions at Sun Studio, and a live 1981 Boston concert. What appear to be missing are Bono’s duet with Frank Sinatra on “I’ve Got You Under My Skin”, which was a B-side for “Stay (Faraway, So Close!)” as well as appearing on the Duets album (which isn’t available in the store), and the fan club Christmas singles.

Free music roundup

The Wednesday Morning Download column at Salon just started updating again after an October hiatus. In celebration, here’s my own roundup of free downloads:

If you didn’t snag a copy of this month’s Wired magazine, featuring a CD of Creative Commons-licensed tracks by such artists as David Byrne, My Morning Jacket, the Beastie Boys, Thievery Corporation, and Spoon, you can now download all the tracks from the Internet Archive.

Sub Pop’s RSS feed linked to tracks from the Postal Service, Saint Etienne, and the Shins among others.

The erstwhile author of Salon’s column, Doveman, has been linking some interesting stuff from his blog. This week: an acoustic cover of Tears for Fears’ Head Over Heels by Samamidon. And Metafilter points to a bunch of mash-ups by DJ Riko, including my favorite, Walk Like An Egyptian Devil (which pairs the Bangles with the Rolling Stones and Felix Da Housecat).

Armistice Day (part 2)

Paul Simon
Paul Simon
Capitol/Warner, 1972

On Armistice Day
The Philharmonic will play
But the songs that we sing
Will be sad
Shufflin’ brown tunes
Hanging around

No long drawn blown out excuses
Were made
When I needed a friend she was there
Just like an easy chair

Armistice Day
Armistice Day
That’s all I really wanted to say

Oh I’m weary from waiting
In Washington D.C.
I’m coming to see my Congressman
But he’s avoiding me
Weary from waiting down in Washington D.C.

Oh Congresswoman
Won’t you tell that Congressman
I’ve waited such a long time
I’ve about waited all I can
Oh Congresswoman, won’t you tell that Congressman

What disappearing iTunes releases look like from the other side

I’m obliged to Christophe Abric, who’s on a mailing list with me, for pointing to an interesting case study of why albums appear and then disappear on the iTunes Music Store. The case in question is King Crimson, and the story is made a bit more transparent through the online diary of Robert Fripp, the band’s constant anchor. Apparently EMI snuck King Crimson tracks into the online stores after the band’s contract with them expired at the end of 2003, in spite of ongoing royalty disagreements—the band would have received 6 cents per track (Apple gets 4) vice the 69 cents kept by the label for “technology investments.” Riiight. More info in this Blogcritics post.

This sort of hijinks probably also explains the appearance and quick disappearance of the Sex Pistols’ Never Mind the Bollocks… in the store over the last few months.

(I thought I posted this on Friday, but it seems to have disappeared.)

Spotlight on Carl Perkins

Carl Perkins’ claim to fame among most music buffs is his brilliant “Blue Suede Shoes,” which his fellow Sun Records artist Elvis Presley made his own a year after Perkins had already taken the song up the charts. But in the heady brew of Sun Records’ brief run of brilliance, Perkins remains a distant memory for many behind Elvis, Roy Orbison, Johnny Cash, and Jerry Lee Lewis. A new collection of his songs from the Sun years, Orby Records Spotlights Carl Perkins, should help remedy that.

Unlike Presley, Perkins’ background was tenant farming and Nashville, and this shows in his originals, which comprise eleven of the fourteen tracks on this anthology. The originals veer from blistering rockabilly to broad country, and showcase Perkins’ yelping vocals, bar room lyrics, and fiery lead guitar. The tunes also show off the capabilities of Perkins’ band; his brothers Clayton and Jay on bass and rhythm guitar and W. S. Holland on drums lay down a solid foundation on which Perkins builds what the liner notes refer to as “country guitar laced with blues and whiskey-fueled aggression” (check out the solos on “Honey Don’t” (the b-side to “Blue Suede Shoes” and “Boppin’ the Blues” for outstanding examples).

The set is short—35 minutes—but manages to cover the breadth of Perkins’ work from 1954 to 1957 at Sun, including songs from six of his seven Sun singles, two tracks from a 1957 “dance” album, and one track (“Put Your Cat Clothes On”) that was unissued during his years at Sun and has only appeared on compilations. Unfortunately the liner notes, while providing an excellent biographical sketch, leave it to the reader to figure this out; I used the excellent Perkins discography at Terry Gordon’s Rockin’ Country Style for information on the sessions and releases.

One wonders how the course of rock history would be different if Carl hadn’t gotten into a car crash on his way to appear on the Ed Sullivan and Perry Como shows behind “Blue Suede Shoes,” sending his career into a slow slide into alcoholism and obscurity (Perkins would eventually escape both in the 1980s). Perkins once described his frustrated career: “I was bucking a good-looking cat called Elvis who had beautiful hair, wasn’t married, and had all kinds of great moves.” Fortunately for us all, history has been kinder to Perkins than the market was, and he’s now recognized as one of rock’s founding fathers. This set, while brief, does an admirable job of showing why.

Note: This compilation is one of a series of Sun years reissues from Roy Orbison’s label, Orby Records, which together with Orbison’s own recordings are being newly distributed by Eagle Rock Entertainment.

Review originally posted at BlogCritics.

Alas, John Peel

BBC: Legendary radio DJ John Peel dies of heart attack at 65. Peel is one of those tastemakers who would be famous even if you only knew him through the sessions that artists recorded on his show. I’m much more inclined to pick up a “Peel Sessions” recording from a band than another live show, just because I know the performance is going to be astonishingly good (witness: Bauhaus, Joy Division, the Birthday Party, New Order, Tim Buckley, Stiff Little Fingers, PJ Harvey and Stereolab, Gang of Four, the Cure, Happy Mondays, the Buzzcocks…)

As tastemaker and enabler of amazing sound, there are few DJs who could even think about filling his shoes today. (And I think that they all work for KEXP.) Via MetaFilter.

Standards and stardust

It’s very easy for an obsessive organizer type to get lost in iTunes. All those data fields, some of which are rarely filled in—take “composer,” for instance—mean there’s always something to look at in a spare minute and to try to populate. So I was delighted to find possibly the last resource I’ll ever need for composers of popular standards (as performed by jazz singers and instrumental artists): Todd’s Lyrics and Links. In addition to lyrics, he also lists composer, lyricist, arranger (where appropriate), and the whole shebang is organized by performer. I recognize a work of obsession when I see it. My hat’s off, Todd, and thanks.

The week in music

Polar opposites this week. First, the long-awaited final (and I must enclose a question mark after that word, given the long tradition of mining the back catalog of dead celebrities until not even their teeth are left in the grave) album from Elliott Smith, From a Basement on the Hill. With two songs from the album having been released as a 45 prior to Elliott’s passing and subsequently included on multiple compilations, I’ve been eager to hear the rest of the work for a long time and am listening right now, so further reactions will have to wait…

Second, the first-ever mash-up to receive a major-label release hit iTunes (and, one supposes, physical record stores) today: the DJ Reset mash “Frontin’ on Debra,” which combines elements of Beck’s “Debra” with the Pharrell Williams/Jay-Z tune “Frontin’,” plus original elements added by DJ Reset. Beatmixed had the story back in September, so check it out for more detail. All I can say is, like the best tracks from the Gray Album, this mash is a goofy pleasure.

Happy birthday, dear PJ

Last night I saw PJ Harvey at Avalon. And when I say “saw,” I mean experienced, in the form of a gorgeous gut-punch. The night started less promisingly, with a quick set from Moris Tepper, which I mostly missed but which made me think fondly of a time, before artists like Tepper, when tuning one’s voice to the same key as one’s guitar was still important. (His songs sounded good, but the effects on his mic spread his vocal pitch over a minor 3rd around whatever note he was actually singing.)

Then PJ took the stage, and the whole thing kicked up a notch. Opening with “Who the Fuck” and “The Letter” from her most recent album, she dropped in and rocked hard on “Dress,” which I have been waiting about twelve years to hear live and which lived up to all my inflated expectations. Other songs on the list (not in order) included “Me Jane” (!) “Meet Ze Monsta,” “Down By The Water,” “A Perfect Day Elise,” “Gun,” “The Whores Hustle and the Hustlers Whore,” “Good Fortune,” “Shame,” “You Come Through,“ Surprises included “Janet Vs. Johnny,” “Taut” (from the collaboration with John Parish), “Harder” (the B-side), and “Cmon Billy” (played solo by PJ, with only a guitar bigger than she was to accompany that big big voice).

The overall sound, with a drummer, one guitarist cum drummer, and one really heavy bassist backing PJ, was bass heavy and menacing, and really tight. By total contrast, the chorus led by two guys behind me of “Happy Birthday” that greeted PJ when she returned for the encore was ragged but moving—she actually waved a birthday hat above her head and smiled for the crowd before jumping into the first encore song.

Other reports from the concert on the PJ Harvey bulletin board.