Friday, April 21, 2006

Roadside Blues


Since neither of us is a member of Philly's WXPN radio station, neither Lowender nor I could get a ticket to the station's free noon Bela Fleck and the Flecktones concert today. And it turns out that even if we were members -- we offered to sign up and pay the exorbitant membership fee just to get tickets to the show -- the concert itself was already sold out. We begged the station representative to see if there might be spots available if we waited it out and people failed to show up -- no dice, so we left town.

It's been a while since we've seen the Flecktones, and they always put on a great show. Bela plays the banjo like a guitar, Victor Wooten plays the bass like a banjo, Jeff Coffin plays his wind instruments like pianos, and Futureman plays... well, he provides percussion. The result is a creative and original mix of bluegrass, classical, and jazz. Fortunately, today's show was on the radio, and on the drive to Maryland we heard it until the WXPN signal started to fade. So we did what any normal people would do: we parked at a diner in Perryville, Md., sat in the car, and listened to the last 20 minutes. It was almost as good as being there in person. And if the songs we heard were any indication, the new album (which I should have bought by now but haven't) is a return to the standard they set in Left of Cool, when the Flecktones found the best balance among all their styles and didn't bother with too many boring guests.

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Thursday, April 20, 2006

Thursday Battle


As I blast Ne-Yo and Peedi Peedi's "Stay" (215, Holla!), I realize that it's time for another battle: Chris Brown vs. Ne-Yo. My vote's for Ne-Yo. Post your vote as a comment.

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Tuesday, April 18, 2006

Dead Revival?


Growing up a fan of Bruce Hornsby and Bela Fleck and the Flecktones, I always liked music from the same general world as the Grateful Dead. But I never got to love the Dead, and that may have been because I was wary of Deadheads; I subscribed (and still do) to the view that once Jerry Garcia died, some Deadheads invaded Bruce Hornsby concerts expecting him to take up Captain Trips' mantle. My Deadhead English teacher, who played recordings of Dead concerts every day in the classroom, even game me a tape of the The Other Ones, who were led by Hornsby and let Deadheads pretend their band still existed.

Well, while at the beach recently, I picked up a biography of Jerry Garcia for no reason other than the cover looked nice. The day I returned to Philly, I bought four Dead albums at Tower, including Live/Dead and Skull & Roses. When track 1, "Bertha," of the latter came on, I lost myself. I thought I was in 10th grade again, getting set for the start of a Macbeth discussion. As I listen, I'm impressed, giving the band a chance based on Phil Lesh's twisty basslines and the songs' generally nice, feelgood, happy springtime feel. I don't know if I'll become a Deadhead, but I do know that I'd ask Bruce Hornsby to play his own stuff before requesting "Wharf Rat."

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Friday, April 14, 2006

Princeton and Nonsuch

Benthoven here with a brief rumination on the powerful connection between music and memory. Whether it evokes images of a particular person, a place, or an event, I would argue that there are few mnemonic triggers as powerful as a song. (Proust would argue in favor of odor, but he doesn't post on this blog...yet.) Often the connections between song and event are obvious. For example, any time I hear The Kaiser Chiefs, I will remember their overlooked performance at Live 8 this past summer. Sometimes they are just incidental, a tune which just happens to be in the background or on the radio when something interesting happens.

And sometimes, these connections are more deliberate. Such was the case last week when I traveled to Princeton to learn more about their graduate programs. In between question and answer sessions with professors and dinner, a few prospective grad students who were more in the know clued me into the glory that is the Princeton Record Exchange, and its vast selection of used CD's. While my new acquaintances scurried off to look at obscure jazz collections, I scoured the shelves of classic rock seeking something new and interesting to listen to on my trip home. Eventually it came down to three albums, and despite my recent interest in The Kinks and my respect for Eric Clapton, I ended up shilling out $5 for Nonsuch, an album by XTC.

Why XTC? I have no idea really...the only things I knew about them were from discussions with Mugshot and a reference in a They Might Be Giants song. ("Beatle based pop vs. new romance!") But, hey the price was right, and the album art looked pretty sweet.

The next day, it was time to head home. I had two options. Hit the highway directly or drive around the campus a little bit more and see some parts I had missed during my short time in town. I chose the latter option and, in a semi-conscious attempt to forge a musical connection to the whole experience, popped the CD into my car stereo as I drove around. Which is why, for better or for worse, the University Bookstore at Princeton will now forever be associated with "The Ballad of Peter Pumpkinhead" and why the golf course will provoke comments about how we're the smartest monkeys.

I wonder if any album would have had a similar mnemonic effect or just a well-produced British studio album featuring innovative lyrics and medieval-themed cover art. Check it out :




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Sunday, April 09, 2006

The Fallen Woman


This past weekend I caught Verdi’s La Traviata (The Fallen Woman). I bought tickets back in December as a gift for a fellow grad student here in Boston, and I picked up a recorded performance with FriedOreo in Chicago over New Years and had been listening to it since then. I don’t pretend to have any authoritative knowledge of the genre; I went with dual aims of entertainment and learning more about the art form. The only other Verdi opera I had attended was Aida in Philly.

I went in braced for vocal acrobatics and tragedy-tinged commentary on love. I ended up being more impressed by its depiction of Parisian party society (the opera had the hedonism of a Perfectionists concert!) and the enhanced catchiness of the melodies performed live. Many of the female lead’s most powerful numbers were delivered at parties while her character was heroically drunk, which had the unexpected effect (at least for me) of lending an under-the-influence-rock-star rawness and intensity to the songs. For much of the show I felt like I should have been standing in a sweaty t-shirt close to the stage shouting lyrics instead of in a box yards from the stage.

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