After a dormancy of a few years, The Dodos have re-emerged and proven to be anything but extinct. This duo makes a sound that is easy to recognize but hard to describe, a sort of acoustic progressive metal filled with droning rhythms and cascading guitars that you can clearly hear on the appropriately-titled “Unicorn”.
The three-hour live shows have settled into their own rhythm, with the stranger and more electronic offerings drifting into the territory of The Final Hour, between 11pm and midnight. This show is for the early risers who might be familiar with the upbeat indie pop that gets played at the top of the show but are missing out on the darker moods that are featured near the end.
You might think Juanes is some sort of reference to a collective of people named Juan, but it is actually a single Juan, more accurately a Colombian named Juan Esteban Aristizábal Vásquez. Here he is singing along to Elvis Costello and the Attractions as part of the fascinating Spanish Model project.
Tonight’s show started off with Picture Book, a one-hour mixtape of songs dedicated to the captured image, whether it be a personal snapshot or an exotic postcard. The rest of the night was the usual Mixtape territory, closing out with my latest inexplicable favorite, International Sangman.
The story of Nell Smith & The Flaming Lips is as improbable and unexpected as their album full of Nick Cave covers. Existing in a triangular universe of mutual admiration, Where the Viaduct Looms gave us the opening track tonight, the menacing “Red Right Hand”.
If The Wedding Present were the traditional sort, they would be bringing coral to the festivities. This one is from earlier in their career, closer to the wood years, but the Velvet Underground never goes out of style. This is from another good VU tribute album, Heaven and Hell from 1991 or so.
The rich wood floorboards were squeaking under the strain of the game. They had removed their shoes, sketched out the board using a special beeswax that would not damage the finish, and were hopping as lightly as they could, for they respected the solemnity of their location. Nonetheless, the portraits lining the Hall of Admirals in the Museo Maritimo Nacional felt they finally had something to frown about, their serious Chilean brows furrowed in naval concern as they observed the farrier and the anthropologist enjoying their tournament.
The first time you hear Courtney Barnett taking on the Velvet Underground's "I'll Be Your Mirror," what you get is an electrifying shock of recognition: you know that distinctive voice, you know that timeless melody, but what you're hearing is completely new. I must add that there's a VU tribute album every few years, and even the worst of them can be decent, supported by the strength of the songs, but this one (also titled I'll Be Your Mirror) is exceptionally good.
It's a celebration of Pat Fish, also known as The Jazz Butcher, who passed away unexpectedly last week, on October 5. We kick things off with another one of my favorites, the Asylum Street Spankers, taking on his "D.R.I.N.K." to glorious heights, followed by a couple of sets drawing from his 20th century material.
Tonight started out with an hour of the sickest music around, which is to say songs about illness, medication, and other health-related issues. The following two hours were the usual incomprehensible mixture of genres and bad attitudes.
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