SHOW OF THE MONTH

Sidewalk Driver / The Great Bandini / Okay Thursday / Murder Capitol Of The World
T.T. The Bear’s
Cambridge, MA
July 14, 2007

Opening act Murder Capitol Of The World had a good crowd in place for their early night record release party. Led by former Letters To Cleo guitarist Greg McKenna, the band put forth a strong set of hard-hitting swagger-rock. While the band was tight and spot-on, the vocals were not. Murder Capitol’s lead singer seemed to perform every lead singer move he had ever dreamt of doing as a kid, but his voice did not measure up to his theatrical skills.

Local act Okay Thursday came on for the second set — their first show with the new line-up. The statuesque Sarah Korval invited members of The Motion Sick as well as Harris to play, but the spotlight shone brightly on Korval and co-frontwoman Nikki Dessingue. The two performed like an attractive female version of Simon and Garfunkel. Most of the numbers were poppy and had the crowd brimming with positive vibes and dancing up a storm. The songs were classic girl-group pop, including a great version of “My Boyfriend’s Back” that charmed the crowd, especially the dudes with the huge “We’re #1” foam fingers.

The Great Bandini took the stage to a full house and doused everyone in front of the stage with beer. The driving rock sound of the third band was, indeed, perfect for beer-spitting. When not spewing Budweiser, The Great Bandini put their mouths to other uses: some nice vocal harmonies punctuated their choruses. The crowd hooted and hoisted their own drinks at the band’s dirty Northeast sound.

If The Great Bandini sounds like a magician’s name, then Tad McKitterick from headliner Sidewalk Driver was the lovely assistant — a large man in full showgirl costume complete with knee-high sparkling boots and purple plumage adorning his head. Even though he looked like a Moulin Rouge showgirl, McKitterick never had to strain or stretch to hit seemingly out-of-range notes in Sidewalk Driver’s sparkly glam throwbacks. The rest of the band dressed normally so the effect was nearly a sensory overload — it was difficult to pay attention to what the large man in drag was singing while trying to compute the fact that a large man in drag was, in fact, fronting this band. Each member of Sidewalk Driver could play well, and the transitions between songs faded into one another smoothly. The night ended in theatrics and glitter, leaving all satisfied.

-Review by C.D. Di Guardia; photo by Marianne Bolduc

Roadsteamer (CD Release) /
The Campaign for Real-Time /
Fluttr Effect / The Snowleopards
The Paradise Rock Club
Boston, MA
June 23, 2007

The record release party for Roadsteamer’s I’ll Be At Your Funeral was a cross-cultural, audiological onslaught of tunes ranging from dance rock to hair-metal tunes about 8-bit Nintendo games. Given the eclectic nature of the event, putting a finger on the theme of the evening would prove to be quite the task. However, when Performer caught up with Robby Roadsteamer (vocals) the day after the show, he commented, “We wanted to make the show like a bad ‘80s dance-party movie.”

C4RT’s set most effectively nailed that sentiment. The group of faux time-travelers powered their way through a set of their self-described “post-iPod playlist dance-rock” that featured a handful of dancers on stage and an entourage of Men In Black types, dressed in buttoned-down shirts and sunglasses.

After C4RT wrapped up a set of what they’ve described as “electro-hip-hop-R&B-dance-rock,” the night’s headliner, Roadsteamer, took the stage to a roaring crowd of dedicated fans, many of whom made a point of showing up in intricate, Gwar-ish costumes.

Roadsteamer opened with “North Shore Is Where You’re Gonna Soar,” and followed the tune with one of their many odes to 8-bit Nintendo games, “Duck Hunt.” As the set progressed through other humorous tunes, such as “The Hand I Beat Dogs With” and “I Hope You Get Ugly In Heaven,” what stood out the most was the profession You Get Ugly In Heaven,” what stood out the most was the professional approach the group took to their silly songs. The formula behind Roadsteamer’s approach mixed offensive, obscurity-laden humor with a significant degree of well-honed instrumentation. While Robby sang about subjects like cats with “ass cancer,” his guitarist, Pete Tentindo, counterbalanced the humor with technically proficient guitar playing, bringing to mind the tongue-in-cheek musicianship of Ween. However, given the ever-present influence of over-the-top glam-rock in the group’s sound, their performance came off more like a hybrid of Kiss’ Love Gun and “Weird Al” Yankovic.

As the group closed out their set with fan favorite “I Put A Baby In You,” it seemed as though Roadsteamer’s wish for a cheesed-out, John Hughes movie moment was becoming a reality as friends, family, fans, and members of every band on the bill flanked the singer on all sides for the night’s grand finale. By the close of the evening, the group’s record release party gave everyone in the audience an energy-filled performance that revolved around a goofy sound made for a party like this. Even if the Weird Al-meets-Kiss combo isn’t your cup of tea, the anything-goes rock ‘n’ roll circus Roadsteamer put on at the Paradise would have given even the hard of hearing something to enjoy.

-Review by Andrew Bruss; photo by John Parsons

Ellis Paul / Chris O’Brien
Club Passim
Cambridge, MA
July 7, 2007

The singer/songwriter genre denotes a medium where the audience is confronted with the song itself — stripped to its most naked, yet quintessential, form. It’s kind of funny that this arbitrarily labeled genre is considered a genre at all, but there’s no denying that the model exists: acoustic guitar/piano plus vocals. The folk singer/songwriter seems to make more sense, though, since folk is about storytelling. Ellis Paul has long been a staple of the Northeast folk scene, and his performance at Club Passim on July 7 was a perfect example of how to do it right — songwriting, performance, and connecting with the audience. Legendary Club Passim was the perfect venue for the show, with its intimate charm and loyal audience.

Opener Chris O’Brien was well suited for the night. His earnest tenor perfectly complimented heartfelt songs that touched upon standard topics such as love, loss, and introspection. His performance was really solid; however, the songwriting wasn’t quite there. While some of his hooks were promising, the lyrics were forgettable and the compositions didn’t take enough risks. A cover of Martin Sexton showed off his impressive vocal abilities and good upper register, but the accomplished songwriting of Sexton served as a reminder of what O’Brien too often lacked.

By the time Ellis Paul took the stage, the crowd was visibly excited. After a contemplative piano opener, Paul launched into crowd favorites like “Sweet Mistakes,” “3,000 Miles,” “Eighteen,” and more. One particular highlight was a version of “Black Top Train,” which he performed unplugged, telling the audience “it’s just too loud.” Paul’s powerful voice maintained an impressive volume in the room, as did his deep, soulful guitar playing.

It was obvious that every last audience member of the sold out Passim crowd knew his songs inside and out. During the popular “3,000 Miles,” the audience sing-along nearly overpowered the PA system. Towards the end of the set, Paul treated the audience to what he called a “folk singer lap dance” — which was basically an unplugged performance from within the crowd.

Ellis Paul’s career has spanned nearly 20 years, and his experience as a songwriter and performer definitely show. He’s one of those few artists who can connect to the audience, making everyone in the crowd feel like he or she is actually being performed to. The sound was spot-on and the set list included some new songs from a forthcoming children’s album — some of which showcased subtle political lyrics. However, even Paul’s songs about dragonflies still managed to sound beautiful and utterly heartbreaking.

-Adam Arrigo

The Sterns / Bad Jamie /
The Black Tie Affair /
Fly Upright Kite / Trans Cardia
The Middle East Downstairs
Cambridge, MA
July 13, 2007

When one buys a ticket to a five-band show downstairs at The Middle East, it is safe to assume that the night will have its ups and downs. This was truly the case when The Sterns headlined an uneven bill in Cambridge’s premiere venue. The entire night felt like a mismatch, on both micro and macro scales.

The evening began with an early set from Allston’s Trans Cardia. They kicked off a set of competent rock, layering guitars and thick grooves under Christine Keenan’s standout vocals. Trans Cardia is capable of inventive and interesting tones, though the need to fall back into metal riffing seems like a habit they should try and resist.
The heavier riffing of Trans Cardia awkwardly transitioned into the brooding pop of Fly Upright Kite. Fly Upright Kite’s set was plagued by tuning issues and, though the band is capable of delivering a satisfying and well-constructed sound, Asad Rahman’s charisma is lacking on stage. Instead of leading his band and singing his heartfelt lyrics out to the crowd, he behaves like a spotlight-shy Chris Carraba, delivering everything to the ground on stage.

After Fly Upright Kite’s triumphs and struggles, The Black Tie Affair took the stage to deliver a needed dose of energy and excitement to the growing audience. John Paul gave off a natural vibe as he threw himself about the stage. At their best, TBTA evoke Jimmy Eat World and The Anniversary, writing smart pop songs with a punk gloss. TBTA’s only weak point was their casualness in taking the stage, including attempts to speak through the PA while house music was still blaring. Regardless, the band showed a solid command of their tunes.

Bad Jamie then took the stage, announcing early that two of their band members were leaving after this show. The music alternated between blues-glam jams and dark Franz Ferdinand club pop. From the relaxed American Apparel style of one guitarist, to the glammed-up Of Montreal makeup of the other, to the distracting white-sequined disco shirt of Jonathan Moore on drums, the band looked and acted disjointed. Look-at-me antics like jumping around and licking one another just might be fulfilling a need to disguise the fact that, at the end of the set, they were mostly playing power chords.

Finally, The Sterns swept the stage clear of all the mismatched openers and hodgepodge band styles to deliver the amazingly clear and focused tunes they are known for. With Rich Nick sitting in on drums, the band plowed through an amazingly tight set. Chris Stern’s voice managed to project and carry through the rest of the band, maintaining a soft sweetness that seemed ready to devolve into a sarcastic snarl. The Sterns sounded like a throwback to ‘50s and ‘60s pop, but in a terrifically modernized way. They evoked the sounds of Motown and early rock without degenerating into mimicry. “Supreme Girl” is one of the tightest examples of the fascinating sass that permeates The Sterns’ sound. The shear pop momentum these guys create is enough to overcome even their overwhelmingly self-aware banter and stage presence. Between Michael Sixx’s amazing keyboard work, Emeen Zarookian’s bass and the spitfire guitar/vocals combo of Chris and Alex Stern, this band managed to transport the room to an almost religious state of pop awesomeness.

-Review by John Drake; photo by Erin Yunes

2007 Boston Hip Hop Fest:
Slaine / J the S / Golden Brown /
Blak Madeen / Rite Hook /
Bad Newz & Gwop Gang / J-Rize /
AVI / Triple Threat
The Middle East Downstairs
Cambridge, MA
July 14, 2007

At the “10 minutes to show time” call, hip-hop aficionados left their positions at the bar and on the back wall, rushing the stage for the start of The Middle East’s Hip-Hop Festival. The night featured Boston’s most certified MC, hosted by Leedz Edutainment.

AVI opened the show with a sincere but unpolished performance, so the real party didn’t start until the second act, J-Rize, took the stage. Commanding attention with get-rowdy beats and call-and-response chants, J-Rize broke the barrier between performer and audience, effectively heating up the stage. He proclaimed that he came “ready to rock” and he definitely proved it, igniting the mic with the infectiously crunk song “Ride Hard” featuring Jay-cee-Oh. After his three songs, he left an intense impression on the crowd, leaving the room yearning for more.
He was followed by Bad News & Gwop Gang, who filled the stage with a massive crew. Exploding with Mattapan neighborhood pride, the attractive frontman, Boston Kazz, thundered through lyrics about hood life.

Next on tap was Blak Madeen, comprised of Al-Jabra and Yusuf. This veteran duo took the audience back through time with a funky, confident act rooted in pre-commercial hip-hop. They flowed conscious fun lyrics in their songs “2 of the Best” and “Nightmares.” They also had the innate ability to demonstrate their exceptional skills without taking themselves too seriously. For example, Yusuf wore a house robe and at least seven hats that night, tossing them into the crowd at random. The group seemed to be having a lot of fun on stage and it caught on with the crowd. The show only got better when Golden Brown took the stage. The duo of Nodoz and DJ On&On, backed by DJ Oz’s quick fingers on a MCP 1000, offered live action organic vibrations for the entire audience to groove to. J the S followed up with a noteworthy stop-the-violence collaboration with Letia Larok. Finally, Slaine sealed the deal, ending the night by making sure the audience left with a hip-hop high and had gotten their money’s worth.

-Review by Jamara Wakefield; photo by Joe Harrington

Gully / Hats and Glasses /
Diamond Sharp
Geno’s Rock Club
Portland ME
July 7, 2007

There are musicians who relish the spotlight, the kind who never present a song until it has been polished to perfection and take pride in their ability to work an audience into a frenzy. They see themselves as entertainers, prophets or both, and they like center stage not because they are egotists, but because they see it as the perfect platform to preach or teach or to just plain impart joy to their fans. It was performers of this stripe who set Geno’s Rock Club ablaze on a cold, rainy Saturday night.

Take Gully, a Portland-based rock band that served up spoonfuls of showmanship to help their complex, almost convoluted songs go down more easily. Their songs were marked by abrupt changes in tempo, mood and energy. While certainly intriguing, they never quite made it to “catchy.” Yet when the lyrics commanded “ass shaking,” Gully shook, and when they took a dive into the primal, Gully screamed. Far from being a distraction, the vocal and physical maneuverings drew the audience in and the music itself took it from there.

Next up was Boston’s Hats and Glasses, a threesome for whom the description “unique” is more than just a lazy adjective. This isn’t the sort of band you dance to; it’s the sort you dissect, using words like “postmodern” and “existential.” Still, their greatest strength — or at least the reason Geno’s patrons flocked to the stage when they started playing — was the spectacle that is Elliott Chaffee. Watching Chaffee work was exhilarating. A flawless vocalist, keyboardist and drummer, he exhausted the potential of all three roles — simultaneously. Hats and Glasses is, of course, more than a carnival act. It’s a serious band with a heart for exploration. It not only flirts with cacophony, it embraces it.

All the mind bending was washed down with easy-on-the-ears (and local favorite) Diamond Sharp. Their wry, punk-in-spirit lyrics — such as “Don’t destroy the one who loves you / Step off of that ledge” — bobbed their way across deceptively upbeat melodies. More than one fan shouted “I love you, Diamond Sharp!” before the evening was over, an outburst the Sharp’s frontman and avatar Jason Rogers took in stride, always with a smile.

-Review by Rosaleen Torrey; photo by Reuben Torrey

Seventh Annual Trashfest:
Coffin Lids / The Tampoffs / Triple Thick / The Konks / Hot Rod Fury / Big World / Prime Movers / Mess Me Ups / Beantown Boozehounds / Jay Allen / The Swingin’ Neckbreakers
The Abbey Lounge
Somerville, MA
July 14, 2007

Unfortunately, The Abbey Lounge was not drenched in alcohol and greasers, ratty bras sticking out of leopard print halter tops, body odor riding waves of cigarette smoke through the room. Oh well. It was still quite crowded at the annual Trashfest.

Triple Thick delivered a spot-on Stooges impression with a blistering, mutilated guitar, lughead-solid drumming (this drummer nailed the vocals) and a stationary townie guy shaking maracas and tambourines. Guitarist Mitch Murphy took turns at singing now and then and, though physically pretty static and timid, offered sardonic David Yow groans whenever he opened his mouth. Songs like “Monday,” “Tuesday,” and “Pabst Blue Ribbon” represented them well — not a lot of style, but shout-along choruses goofy enough to overshadow even the drummer’s unintentional rooster tail hairdo blown up by a box fan.

Next was The Tampoffs, another singin’ drummer band whose bass player took a rock-star stand, front and center — probably to showcase his “Polish Sausage” t-shirt. The Tampoffs got onstage, started making noise as soon as possible and finally collapsed into the first song, a big sing-along rave-up like something The Circle Jerks would have written if they were around in the ‘60s. Despite the name, every move in every song was smartly put together and compelling. They plowed through songs and, when songs weren’t ready, they just banged on shit until the music came together. This is how to carry a set like the party depends on it.

Up next was The Coffin Lids, pet project of Abbey booker and lead guitarist/vocalist Skinny Mike. Skinny Mike looked the part — slicked hair and a Cramps shirt that might be second skin, seeming like he just walked out of an old John Waters film. Tossing beer bottles over his shoulder, he led the Lids through a fast set of horror punk/Nuggets-style freakouts that sounded as authentic as a sparkly, naugahyde corner booth with the stuffing coming out, singing about Japanese kitsch-rockers The 5 6 7 8’s, “women who talk too much,” and their very own drummer, scene stalwart Matt “Bongo” Burns. Missy Lid, on Farfisa and backup shouting, looked like a wigged-out Ann Coulter who just got off a shift at Hooters. This is the mold that Trashfest is built around, with dusty surf lines, creaky boogie organs, call-and-response choruses, and well-placed tastelessness at every crusty turn.

Note to the Swingin’ Neckbreakers — when it’s midnight and time for you to go on, try and take into consideration that everyone’s a little tipsy, a little impatient, and not likely paying attention to whether the rack toms need to be turned up. Finicky gearheads who can’t stop worrying about the stage mix in between every song would do well to take a lesson from the modest but universally loved Jay Allen, who played drunken acoustic sets on the Pub Stage across the room between every set. His songs sounded like tinny blown-out messes through the dinky PA behind him, and he didn’t complain once. Consequently, the crowd loved him.

-Matt Parish