2003, Jan-June

Norah Jones; Gillian Welch
@The Mann Center
Philadelphia, PA - June 20, 2003

Among the many artists that took over my musical canon in 2003 was the young woman who, without intent or any expectation, seemingly dominated music – for at least part of the year anyway. The Brooklyn Texan, Norah Jones, the most natural, down to earth star in popular music, came to Philadelphia to a setting beyond her music’s scope, the Mann Center, in a rain that was beyond pouring. Norah, and her ultra-talented folk-bluegrass opener Gillian Welch, did their best to amend the woes of us in the rain, drenched beyond belief, in muddy grass. Norah, who proved that her conversational skills with the audience have indeed improved, discussed hot dogs and did DeNiro impressions while she played her future-classics in a diligent style with her band. Her mix of jazz, blues, folk, and country was a little too intimate for the Mann but the songs’ beauty outweighed the awkward setting. Norah and the boys sped it up a bit with some bluegrass-country staples, including bringing out Gillian for a tune. And then in the most comic moment…there I was, soaking wet through layers of clothes, having decided to not wear my Ac/Dc shirt due to the inclement weather, thinking how much of a joke it would have been to wear the shirt, when Norah announces for the finale… “This is an Ac/Dc thing”. My jaw drops, my lady friend tells me to relax….but there it was…in all its blues glory: “Ride On”. After the encore, with my lady friend intent on getting out of the rain, I ran to the stage to yell for Norah to bring herself and the band to a local bar but alas she didn’t hear me. Oh well, at least I got the Ac/Dc I never expected from the artist whose overwhelming success no one expected. A great last concert as a resident of Philadelphia.

X; The Fags; Stiff
@ Theater of Living Arts
Philadelphia, PA June 15, 2003

One day early in 2003, I was glancing through Rolling Stone magazine, and came across a Hall of Fame review of a band. The band was X and the rest is history. Armed at the time with their first two albums, I was stunned into shocked joy upon learning that X was actively touring for the summer and coming to Philly. And so, after much anticipation, I, along with my lady friend and the one and only Ed Jackson (a historic night in that X is the one act I successfully introduced to him), went to the TLA to catch this band that I thought was damn good but certainly not the greatest. But then they took the stage. And from the very first mega riffs from the one and only Billy Zoom, from the very first song on the very first album, X blew up the TLA with its high voltage charged up Rockabilly punk. True rockers, the boys in the band are consummate musicians, more so than any other band in the history of punk. And Exene, her voice as authentic as ever, controlled the audience in her original subtle way. Playing dominantly from Los Angeles and Wild Gift, X did take the occasional step into their later catalogue, most notably “The Hungry Wolf”. John Doe, maybe the most gentle front man in punk history, reminded the audience of the remarkable feat being achieved: Absolute, all-out rock n roll mayhem on a Sunday night! Only ruined by an excessively drunk Popeye-looking guy in the alcohol section, the non-stop insane rock n roll machine that was X thoroughly saturated the minds of the audience – from the moshers in the pit to us surprisingly sober crew next to Popeye. We didn’t need booze to enhance the rock n roll senses, X was that damn good. One night with X and you know they are one of the best ever. As for their opening acts, a so-so local act named Stiff, and a so-so underground act named The Fags adequately set the stage for the band of the night. What made these two bands interesting: The lead singer of Stiff reminded me of Gwen Stefani but black and the leader of The Fags reminded me of Bryan Adams but with balls. He also was a very funny, humorous front man, which helped his band out a lot.

Electric Six; Waxwings, The Vexers
@The Balcony
Philadelphia, PA - June 13, 2003

Ok, maybe it was an overstatement to say Electric Six is going to be the next big thing in music. It is more apt to say that if there is an open American audience, E-Six could be the next big thing. I made this calculation though after some initially serious considerations: Dick Valentine and his rotating cast of characters are from legitimately rocked-out Detroit and though their lyrics are beyond stupidity, they are musically legitimate. They have ushered in a unique sound: Disco-metal. Sure, bands like The Sounds are capturing ol’ 80’s pop, and the Rapture are mixing ol’ beats under a rock guise but this is disco-metal! Seeing Electric Six live, you can literally see a headbanger doing his thing next to a hustlin’ boogey-ing dancin’ fool. And though Electric Six brings the culture clash of ballsy metal directly in confrontation with subtle homosexual imagery and themes, only the narrow-minded pea-brained, overmasculinzed homophobe would cower away from the dynamite fire of this band. Furthermore, Dick Valentine is the front man of the future: He is legitimately (there’s that word again) deranged. Doing calisthenics before beginning the show, Mr. Valentine entertains his audience by waving at people who aren’t there, and (in part thanks to the intimacy of the Balcony), directly points and smiles at every single individual in the crowd and eventually goes into the crowd and swoons with a chosen female. And though all of Valentine’s songs revolve around fire and nuclear war in dance clubs, these weirdos from Detroit attracted the substance of one John S. O’Leary on their hit record – but no, Jack White didn’t show up at this gig. So maybe my hunch is right. In a matter of time, when our culture needs an escape from life, Electric Six could be the band to offer that escape. Among the opening acts: the Vexers stood out with their Patti Smith-type front woman and Waxwings played what has become standard retro-rock.

Arrested Development; Lidisi, Carlos Mena
@ The Trocadero
Philadelphia, PA - June 2, 2003

Could a white boy feel out of place at an Arrested Development show? No chance in hell. This is hip-hop at its classical finest. But of course, it is still something that Arrested Development is back. While Run-DMC, though as beloved as they still are, went wayward with changes, and no other skillful acts that have preceded them could hold up, the troubles and tribulations of AD might actually have been the best thing for them. With nothing to prove, and nothing to lose, these artistic Southerners (coming from a time before there was ever this “Dirty South” hip hop sound), driving around in their little van, playing to unfortunately (?) small crowds on odd days of the week, remind us all that great music can merge melody with message. Still led by Speech, who in his short frame and glasses, is one of the most culturally brilliant figures of his generation, AD is also still highlighted by the presence of “the oldest man in hip-hop”, Baba Oje. As my friend John put it later, Arrested Development really is a cult following of Baba Oje. Yet there is no gimmick here. This is true music artistry and for an outsider to hip-hop this is as easy an introduction as it gets. AD’s opening acts – Hip-hop Spoken word artist Carlos Mena, who might be a member of the new Black Panther party (this was unclear) made strong lines in his discussion of black pride, but this was not isolationist, certainly not when a multicultural set of musicians joined him on stage. The second act was Ledisi, a neat little soul-jazz outfit. The lead singer summoned up the pleasant memories of Ella Fitzgerald and Pearl Bailey, and her vocal abilities, peaking in a simulation of a secretary’s encounters with sound at the office, were astounding. Back to Speech and the gang, still brainy and political, AD’s soft melodies, still influenced by African sounds, and aided by the master work of DJ Machete X, remains viable material – it’s the damndest shame that these kids can’t dominate the whole music scene. Their cover of “Redemption Song” is as powerful as music can get. But who knows what’ll happen? As Baba Ojie said to my John, “Next time, don’t doubt”.

ZZ Top; Ted Nugent; Kenny Wayne Shepherd & Double Trouble
@Tweeter Center
Camden, NJ – May 2003

Americana rock n’ roll at its most obvious, the “Beer drinkers and Hell Raisers Tour” brought on by the venerable ZZ Top, is a thorough lesson in the durability of classic rock. Starting off came the inevitable. Kenny Wayne Shepherd, with Noah Hunt by his side, got to do the only obvious thing he could do in this life: play with Steve Ray Vaughn’s former band. Though I missed most of the opening act, my lady friend and I enjoyed the 20 some-odd minute portion of “Voodoo Chile (slight return)” that we walked in on. So it was even more fitting that the great prodigy played the work of the mentor of the first prodigy. We knew that no matter what came after that, we just saw the best part of the night. Then there was Ted Nugent. As a leftist, it is hard to digest The Nuge’s pro-Bush ranting and raving, as well as his overt militarism, or his paranoia about American realities in the cities. His views could even drive one to the point to think that the Nuge is a racist (many in the audience probably were), but the thing about Ted is that he knows where he comes from musically. Ted was Detroit-rock before this era of Detroit-rock took over “hip” music, and though most of the Nuge’s catalogue is redundant classic rock, the Nuge acknowledges his musical root: Chuck Berry. Ted Nugent might not like what lefties say in this world, and lefties might not like him – but as a patriotic rock n rollers, the lefties and Ted would gladly defend our rights to say what we say any day of the week – and then listen to some Chuck Berry. The Nuge is also honest about his songs and ability. After playing “Cat Scratch Fever”, Ted said, “You know, a lot of people say that song is my best guitar performance. But no, this is” – and so “Stranglehold” comes on in full glory. One of the greatest songs ever made, and hearing it live, one could almost forgive Ted for bashing the Dixie Chicks. But politics aside, what about the little ol’ band from Texas? The ZZ Top, still loveable blues-rockin’ clowns after all these years, churn out their hits in an nostalgic fashion but facts are facts: ZZ Top songs are often very good songs, and underneath the Texas Goatees and that far back day of brief unlikely MTV stardom, there remains a great Texas blues band. “Jesus Just Left Chicago” is as fresh now as it was when it came out. The gimmick might run corny nowadays, but the essence of music still thrives in the world of ZZ Top. Like Bo Diddley told Billy Gibbons way back when, (and Billy related to the crowd on this night) when Billy achieved possession of Bo’s guitar: “Billy, tear that thing up!”.

Philadelphia Freakout IV: The Greenhornes; Mondo Topless; Young Werewolves; Thee Minks
@ The Balcony
Philadelphia, PA – May 10, 2003

Seeing Mondo Topless for the second time in about two months, I actually was able to know who the other bands were this time. As part of their own Philly Freakout, Mondo didn’t headline this installment (emceed by a charming young woman whose name I forgot) but rather ceded the top spot to a somewhat established act, the Greenhorns. But before I continue, let me describe the neatness that is the venue of the Balcony. The historic Trocadero’s upstairs little room with stage and bar, the Balcony allows you to mingle with the musical acts before they take the stage, and allows you to know what’s going on, since you can easily mind everyone’s business. For example, I knew that the opening act band, Thee Minks, were comprised of two local veteran punk females and their new drummer was starting out tonight – and the newbie’s mother was in attendance (a refined African-American woman who enjoyed her daughter’s band’s work). Led by spunky bassist Liz Lipps, Thee Minks got the night off to a rockin’ good time. In Philly, if ya can’t get Philly’s own Joan Jett (which you usually don’t), then go for Thee Minks who understand Ramones-punk better than most. Next up were the Young Werewolves whose Goth-crossed-with-Rockabilly looks were initially distracting. But once the pure rockabilly riffs kicked in, that unease swept away. Unfortunately, the topics of the Young Werewolves songs really revolve around young werewolves and nothing else. If they expand their horizons, and shed the gimmick, they’ll be a great retro rock band to come out of Philadelphia. Mondo’s too short set was still the set of the night of course. Unfortunately, this caused a bit of a cool down when the Greenhorns came on. Hailing from Cincinnati but an early spawn of the Detroit scene, the Greenhorns bring it upon themselves to invite comparisons to the White Stripes. But they lack the visceral energy of that duo, and they can’t help but lack in comparison to the gleeful fury of Mondo Topless. In another time and place, the Greenhorns would be the hit of the night, but at the Philly Freakout, they were the biggest cool down.

The Flaming Lips; The Sun, Sparklehorse
@ The Electric Factory
Philadelphia, PA – April 25, 2003

Did you know her name is Yoshimi? And that she’s a black belt in Karate? To experience the Flaming Lips, is to experience a psychiatrist’s dream. Wayne Coyne’s fixation with balloons, confetti, furry animals, and sweet, melodic serenades work disturbingly well with the images of blood, violence, sex, and nudity on screen above the band. In his white suit and purple shirt, and later on doused in fake blood, Mr. Coyne, has musically forged relationships with Beck and the White Stripes. But on this night, he proves that the Lips, who proudly hail from Oklahoma City, OK, have earned their dues for years before many of today’s popular acts. With their cult following in tow, a novice could easily become a fan of seeing the Flaming Lips live. If “Race for the Prize”, “Yoshimi”, and “She Don’t Use Jelly” don’t make you an awe struck fan, then there is no hope for you. There also might be no hope for the Lips’ opening acts from this night: Sparklehorse, a slow, meandering duo – really the brainchild of Mark Linkous, was too dour. And the Sun, from Columbus, Ohio, started out the night very well with ample rock riffs and an impressive lead singer (who bares a disturbing resemblance to Woody Allen). But these chic rockers lose their energy after awhile, especially after they realize that the crowd realizes that the Sun doesn’t offer anything new or impressive after the first few songs. But one consolation: ol’ Wayne Coyne isn’t one of those superstars who makes you wait all night – he gets the party going immediately, bringing out flashlights and beach balls from the get-go – and bugging the Sun when they were on. Good ol’ Wayne Coyne – the Joker of rock n’ roll.

Philadelphia Freakout III: Mondo Topless; Tie Red; Gas Money; Thee Monarchy V
@ The Balcony
Philadelphia, PA – March 7, 2003

Thanks to a Rolling Stones friend of mine I got treated one night to one of the best underground acts in the world today. The 1960’s Vox organ based quartet of Mondo Topless anchored a night of drunken fun for my friend and myself. Mondo Topless’ fun, campy old-fashioned dirty rock n roll is inescapably fetching. Sweet little naughties like “Panty Sniffer” and “One Two Three Me” aptly describe the whole Mondo catalog. You can’t ask for more from rock n’ roll.