Archive for the ‘Live Shows’ Category

Music Survival Guide 2022 – Year in Review

Posted: December 22, 2022 by Kat Meow in Action/Adventure, Coventry Carols, Fishbone, General, Ho99o9, Hoddy, Ibibio Sound Machine, Live Shows, N8NoFace, OfficialSoda, Sho Madjozi, Stromae
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In the winter of 2021, while poking through shelves of thrift shop CDs, I posed a pitch to Soda Survive about Music Survival Guide.  My favorite band’s new album was underrepresented by people who make words mean things, and I was frustrated about it enough to act.  “Sure,” he said, handing me an inbox full of submissions he had no time to manage, having just given birth to Coventry Carols.  I began sucking down new music releases like crab legs at the Chinese buffet and regurgitating the thesaurus about ‘em.  Forty-five posts and roughly 20,000 words later, I have come to a few conclusions:  

  • I like writing, but I really like attention.
  • I know I’m good at writing, but I will be excellent at it.
  • I have absolutely no qualifications to write about music in any technical or academic way.  But I am going to keep doing it anyway.
  • If I could be at a show every night, I would be.
  • The hardest and most frustrating posts to write are about shows, and yet they end up being my favorite pieces to have written.

For the last few years, I, like all of us, have all relied on hours upon hours of media content to keep ourselves entertained, functional, and relevant.  But our artists are struggling.  Artist after artist is canceling tours, citing astronomical costs.  They are subsisting on pocket change while half-dead code monkeys figure out new ways to gatekeep which songs break out to wider audiences.  Artists can’t get on radio, as if most radio played new music anyway.  Artists are handmaking merch only to find that venues want a cut of the pie. And you can’t even blame some venues, who are pressured to keep tickets and drink prices low while keeping the lights on with soaring rents.  Some smaller venue owners never really turn a profit, but they keep the machine turning because they like to see bands play – if they managed to stay open.  And yet everyone has their hands in the pockets of people with the fortitude to put their feelings on stage.  I can’t help but wonder what invisible voids are being left by artists who throw in the towel so they can make sure the lights stay on and the kids are fed.  

The ecosystem isn’t functioning.  I don’t know if it ever really functioned – I have no way of knowing, being an outsider.  But I do know that the rest of us take on responsible jobs to be flush with cash, and we’re not getting paid our worth either.  So imagine being the artists, carving their flesh on the stage, for dollars that can buy fewer and fewer groceries each week.

As listeners, we are the largest group of stakeholders in this ecosystem.  But we’re not going out to see shows, even though we’re curating playlists out of artists that make fractions of pennies for all the free pleasure we take.  And without us to consume the art, what is the purpose of performing it?  So much of our consumption of things is at home now.  We’re all gobbling Ubereats and White Claws while binge watching seasons of Gordon Ramsay’s Forehead Wrinkles.  We’re numbing ourselves to these fifteen second snippets of TikToks and reels flying by our faces so fast we can hardly consider the literal nothing we waste our time watching.  We’d rather be in bed than in the world, and we’d rather flake on our friends than muster the energy to connect, and boy don’t we feel numb, because if we weren’t numb, we’d be miserable anyway.  We’d rather keep the ten bucks, even though it’ll eventually end up being spent on corporate weed.  

But, starlight is starting to shine through the miasma.  On any given night, a dozen bands are playing a dozen crappy bars in a dozen cities, and doing it for ten dollars a pop to earn enough gas money to make it to the next town.  And they’re doing it because the alternative is eating some middle-manager’s shit for slightly more money.  There is no reason why any person with a dollop of disposable income and a couple hours of free time shouldn’t be standing in a room listening to someone wailing behind a thrift shop Casio.  There’s nothing at home, people.  The golden era of niche TV is nearly over, and whether Marvel movies are art or trash, we’ve all had our fill of them.  Even the shittiest band’s live show is better than most of the offerings on the streamers, or worse, the cultural feces of trending videos and sounds on the socials.  The plague made staying at home jump the shark.  What a bore.  And yet societally-induced depressions and anxieties have us telling ourselves home is better.  Change the conversation.

But I’m tired.  I’m always tired.  If I’m going to be tired, it should be because I danced.

It costs money.  If I have enough money to order Ubereats, I can afford a $12 cover and a watered-down vodka.

I haven’t heard of them.  I’ll hear of them tonight, then.  

Nobody will go with me.  Go alone.  Being with oneself is the shit.  Experiencing life alone is underrated and yet it still has a stigma of being off.  Fuck stigmas.

What if I don’t like them? I don’t think people understand the power of having a safe experience like listening to music-you-don’t-like-at-first and trying to understand it anyway.  There are few things in the world that teach a person about themselves better than leaning into something one dislikes.  Some of the best experiences I have had this year have been from breathing through something that strikes me wrong, and leaning in instead of retreating.  Remember, THEY have the guts to get on stage.  So give the act the respect it deserves just for having the br/ovaries to try.

A ten dollar show is an adventure waiting to happen.  And I can’t think of anything more dreadful than thousands of people sitting at home doing the same old nothing and feeling the same old nothing while even the shittiest, least developed, and greenest young indie band can make you feel something.  More people need to be going out to shows.  Let’s get off our asses.  If we can leave our hangups, our identities, and our preconceived notions at the door, we can find something in almost any piece of music made with the teeniest amount of skill and thought.  

So in 2023, I am going to write more about live shows.  I want to put my body out in the world, where the music is playing.  And I want other people to do it with me.  When the body is tired, we rest.  But when the soul is tired, we dance.  So let’s fucking dance.

To celebrate a year of good shows, here is a top five countdown of the best shows I saw this year, including a couple I hadn’t written about yet.

5. Too Many Zooz supported by YamYam

Yam Yam started the show off pretty good.  Funky and soulful, with a number of really groovy moments that had me moving.  The bassist was up there looking like Jaco’s grandcousin playing that funk and a handful of smooth covers.  I enjoyed them.

I was supposed to see Zooz many times and never made it, so it was really satisfying to finally be in the sprawl and see what they really do.  Saxophonist Leo P was equal parts gutter and glam in sparkle jorts, Beavis and Butthead tank, and vaguely pink mullet.  Ever a showman, Leo blurts out these deep fat tones while he grinds Ginuwine “Pony” style against his baritone sax.  To the left, the trumpeting was crazy wild from Matt Muirhead.  That trumpet sounds even farther out front in the real world, screaming with impassioned frenzy that vibrates the chest.  But it’s King of Sludge that engaged me most – his face was concentrated, framed by his strong jawline adorned with curly beard hair, framed in a bright pink beanie.  Sludge is lean and solid, and even though he could put down his tools in this non-busking context, he remains pregnant with his drum on his waist, thundering airily like Zeus banged it himself.

4. Ho9909 supported by N8NOFACE and Hoddy

N8NOFACE remains unlike anything I have ever seen.  His maddening self-inflicted violence over darkwave synth loops color his intensely painful traumas, leaving you with powerful danceable Tucson punk.  Ho99o9 headlined with their own combination of hellish cyberpunk filth. Ever been turned on by a six foot tall horror clown with dreadlocks and platform boots? My second 999 show and not my last.  Read more.

3. Stromae supported by Sho Madjozi

This show opened with Sho Madjozi, whose pop Afrobeats and wild dance moves were fun to watch.  She was the first South African musician to ever play the Garden, a dream come true for her.  She’s a high energy mix with her Tsonga-fusion looks and stomping dances and lots of fun.

But Stromae!  I had decided to swear off arena shows after the disappointment of Pumpkins and Jane’s at UBS.  But Belgian pop icon Stromae had sold out two nights at Madison Square Garden, and I had never seen a full stage pop spectacular before.  Plus, I had good company: a friend that had introduced me to Stromae’s heart-grabbing Europop and vibrant imagery through their love of French language.  Stromae’s dramatic voice poured through his most profound songs.  He was illustrated by fifteen enormous screens positioned on robot arms with articulated ball joints; screens that alternated between precise visual choreography and being one giant beast theater for Stromae’s charming animations.   “Fils de Joie,” for example, used images of animated marching soldiers, in military garb of many nations, to illustrate a facade of dignity over the tale of an exploited sex worker.  Geometric animations colored Stromae’s incurable hurt during “Papaoutai.”  A choreographed recliner partnered with Stromae during “Mauvaise Journée” et “Bonne Journée.”  I wanted a spectacle, and I got it – one of very few arena shows that I think were worth every penny.

2. Fishbone supported by Action/Adventure

Action/Adventure are cutie patooties with their barrier-blasting pop punk and branded hot sauce. Fishbone is a tried and true favorite.  A Fishbone show is family. Six down, infinity to go.  Read more.

1. Ibibio Sound Machine supported by DJ Sinkane

Ibibio Sound Machine is now a no-miss band for me.  A friend asked me if they were becoming my new Thumpasaurus, I had them on repeat so much.  That’s some high-as-hell praise if you know me. And Eno Williams is a goddess. DJ Sinkane was a worthy watch considering I’m not a lover of DJ sets. Sweatiest most joyous show of the year.   Read more.

I won’t only be writing up live shows.  Keep the submissions coming!  A handful of career retrospectives and interviews with artists are also coming when I bring back the Music Survival Guide Podcast.  Thank you for reading and for all of the clickies and internet points. Happy Winter! I’ll see you at the end of January 2023.  Keep in touch on instagram, @officialmusicsurvivalguide.

Music Survival Guide Instagram ★ Music Survival Guide Podcast

A Saturday Night with Ibibio Sound Machine and DJ Sinkane

Posted: October 28, 2022 by Kat Meow in Afrobeats, England, Funk, Ibibio Sound Machine, Live Shows, Post Punk
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I think it was WFUV’s Russ Borris who first played Ibibio Sound Machine on the radio on my way to work, and I was instantly hooked.  Their fourth album, called Electricity, is an infectious mix of African percussion with electronic keys and horns for days.  It’s like Afrobeat dance punk, and it’s stunning.  Their latest album was produced by dance titans Hot Chip, who are beloved in New York and are basically cousins of hometown heroes LCD Soundsystem.  Everyone in this room would have these three on the same playlist, which made me a little irritated that Brooklyn Bowl wasn’t packed to the gills with heads the way I have seen this venue before.  This is the party.  Imagine missing this.  Nonetheless, there was a respectably sized crowd of eclectics, so I didn’t feel too bad. 

The show opened with a DJ set from Sinkane.  His music was a delicious mix of Afrobeats and funk/soul rhythms I hadn’t heard before.  I’m not usually keen on DJ sets in general because I don’t want to watch people standing behind their setups twiddling knobs and buttons – I watch Star Trek for that.  But Sinkane was actually engaging to watch.  He is as into the music he’s playing as anyone in the crowd would be, and he grooves like every minute of sound he twists and twiddles is an opportunity not to be wasted – a thought given extra weight by his ominous tee shirt that shouted “HEAVEN HELP US” in bold colors.  Dancing now is surviving Now.  The crowd swings smiles and arms around a loose floor.  One crowd-goer, I thought, was doing her whole Zumba routine.  Oh, to have that stamina.

Lights go dark, and the crowd turns forward expectantly as deep tones flood the floor.  Ibibio Sound Machine descend to the stage.  They are a gorgeous set of performers in colorful printed patterns and geometric embroidery.  Frontwoman and vocalist Eno Williams was a dream in marigold yellow, draped in layers of fabric from her powerful epaulettes, and belted, like the jumpsuit of an Afrofuturist super saiyan.  Medallions dangle from her crown of braided hair.  She is utterly, unbelievably, beautiful.  

They eased in with “Electricity,” a perfect opener that washes away the “big big English/big big grammar” of the world’s nonsense.  It grows in layers of percussion and synth and envelopes you in the song’s message of love.  That’s when guitarist Alfred Kari Bannerman pulls out an austere-looking Ghanain instrument called a “korego.”  It produces this pure plucking tone that sounds otherworldly in context of Hot Chip style synths and drums.  Bannerman chants with the korego, deepening its thick notes.  Every so often you go to a show and you see a moment of something so uniquely beautiful that you know you will remember it for a very long time.  

We are, like, 3 minutes into the show, and I’m already levitated on rhythm, bless.  

I was perched at the front of the stage beneath Afla Sackey’s drums – Sackey’s face is grinning through his concentration while his hands slap out the rhythms that make my hips twirl.  His hands are a blur during “17 18 19” and I am complete – this is the tune that first hooked me.  At one point Sackey takes the mic and shares how, when he plays, all of his problems disappear.  Yeah, when you play, mine do too, heh.

Eno addresses the crowd with love.  She reveals “Protection From Evil” was written as a ward against Corona before its wobbly electro tones begin the song’s incantation.  Ibibio is a gorgeous language I can only interpret through my hips.  The funk keeps coming.  “I Need You to Be Sweet Like Sugar (Nnge Nte Suka)” and “Afo Ken Doko Mien” give us slower grooves, and Eno gets to use a voice modulator and keys during the most gentle moment of the show.  “Wanna Come Down” and “Wanna See Your Face Again” show her love for the Brooklyn crowd.  At one point, DJ Sinkane and several of the more fabulous looking crowd members joined ISM on stage to smash some percussion.  A flautist named Domenica Fossati, from Brooklyn’s own Underground System, tore into a fiery flute solo while Williams danced in celebration.  

My poor injured feet and aching body.  At one point I held onto the stage’s barriers just so I could keep whipping my aging heft from side to side.  I had had two weeks of several low-key or just plain underwhelming shows, and Ibibio Sound Machine set me alight in the way I needed.  You know you love a band when you can’t stop listening to them, for days on days on days, after seeing them live.  I only wish some snafu hadn’t taken away our opportunity hear soulful anthem “All That You Want” as I was ready to croon along to it.  But it’s no matter, I’m sure the chance will come.  Maybe one day I’ll get to see them in their London home base.  In the mean time, Ibibio’s four albums of bonafide bangers will have to do.

Ibibio Sound Machine are Eno Williams, Afla Sackey, Alfred Bannerman, Winston Blissett, Joseph Amoako, Scott Baylis, Tony Hayden, and Max Grunhard.

Ibibio Sound Machine Instagram ★ Ibibio Sound Machine Bandcamp ★ Ibibio Sound Machine Website

A Sunday Night with Fishbone and Action/Adventure

Posted: September 14, 2022 by Kat Meow in Action/Adventure, Chicago, Fishbone, Funk, Live Shows, Los Angeles, Metal, Punk, Ska
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It’s Sunday night.  The rest of New York Shiddy is curling up to watch either football, House of the Dragon, or for more creative potatoes, both at once.  But underneath the scaffolding, amidst perpetually dirty streets and fresh graffiti tags, the family was gathering.  The almighty Fishbone were coming to the conclusion of their small “Fly in the Buttermilk” tour, a familiar term for old Fishbone heads.  Flies in the buttermilk are out of bounds.  They defy limitations and expectations.  As the band says on their Facebook, to be a fly in the buttermilk is “a badge of honor as a band of color in a stereotypical music genre.  Too black for white radio, too rock for black radio.”   It takes guts to be the odd ones out, no matter how radical nor earnest nor unbounded, which draws radical earnest unbounded fans.  Fishbone brought along pop punk outfit Action/Adventure, a band of fellow flies out of Chicago making music only white suburban kids are supposed to make (if you answer to the machine).  Together they made some beautiful noise down at the independent bastion Le Poisson Rouge.

Action/Adventure started the night off with some really solid tunes.  While pop punk isn’t my flavor of tea necessarily, this fivesome rocked pretty good.  Their drummer can put out some beastly clamor.  They sound like they’d be at home on alt-rock radio.  For all of my memories of fakery from pop punk bands two decades ago, these guys had none – they were, frankly, adorable, and mock the ye olde concept of poser-ism in their music and their own brand of hot sauce, Poser Poison.  Even though these guys are clearly playing a genre they love, but aren’t “supposed” to love, they vocally stood firm in their convictions that people can do whatever the hell they want regardless of the continents in their blood.  That’s as punk as it gets.  

Then came Fishbone.  What is there to say about your sixth Fishbone show?  “Sunless Saturday,” “Everyday Sunshine,” “Ma and Pa,” “Servitude,” the classics roll off the tongue.  There were old punks who were-there-when, some from the Chili Peppers tour era, which impressed Angelo and Norwood.  There was new blood too.  I spotted a couple kids in their twenties, and even one youngin’ out well past his bedtime, finding his joy in the morass of whirling bodies.  Go get ‘em, kid.  

Of course there was a pit.  A Fishbone pit is a high impact high velocity hug-a-thon for the seasoned rock kid.  One older pro in a pork pie hat started the surf, and before I knew it, I was holding up Angelo’s thigh while he sweat-dripped Sunshine on our faces.  I took a pit edge position, playing defense for a photographer and trying to keep sturdy against the onslaught.  Of course there were moments the pit took me off my feet, but there was no fear, because this Fishbone pit felt less like elbows and shoulders and more like jumping the waves at the beach.  I must have wrapped my arms around dozens of fellow meatbags, and they around me.  A sea of flies, wing in wing.

It was gorgeous and I am exhausted.  Here are some other thoughts, in no particular order:

  • More women than I have noticed before
  • Sweat
  • HORNS ON HORNS ON HORNS ON HORNS ON HORNS
  • Dr. Madd Vibe laying down poetry
  • Norwood in tie-dye still looking good
  • Happy Birthday Norwood with special guests 
  • Dirty Walt’s very dirty microphone
  • Chris Dowd being a ham 
  • A series of almost comically larger and larger saxophones 
  • Angelo Moore’s delicious asscrack
  • I hope Angelo saw my Thumpasaurus shirt because that would be a mind-blower lineup
  • John Steward keeping rhythms tight
  • Mark Phillips with the shred
  • I don’t know who I took that picture with but I love you too
  • The bartender was cool as hell
  • Family of strangers
  • Fishbone being now and forever red hot

Fishbone Instagram  ★  FishboneLive.org

Action/Adventure Instagram  ★  Action/Adventure Bandcamp

A Friday Night With Claire Dickson, Dolphin Hyperspace, and CGI Jesus

Posted: September 2, 2022 by Kat Meow in Ambient, CGI Jesus, Claire Dickson, Dolphin Hyperspace, Jazz, Live Shows, Logan Kane, Los Angeles, NYC, Prog
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Where the fuck is it?  I’m toiling around the streets, knowing I am vaguely close because of the shift in quality of graffiti.  A guy as equally confused as I am is spying the environs on this corner of Wyckoff and Weirfeld, looking for a music venue.  He spots it first.  The name Trans-Pecos is outlined in some kind of black tape on a facade of cheap wired government glass NYC uses to build public buildings, causing this little gem to stay hidden from passers-by.  But inside, this venue’s booth-lined dance floor glistens with refracted starlight and neon. Tonight, I am again following the paths of Logan Kane and Nicole McCabe further into jazz, along with sound artist Claire Dickson, and punk/jazz outfit CGI Jesus.  

The show eases in with a sophistication.  Brooklyn-based Claire Dickson uses her vocals and a keyboard setup to layer her sound.  There may have been different songs, but the layperson couldn’t tell because her set was continuous and uninterrupted by applause.  From there, she selects a sparse palate of tones, bells, and ethereal vocals and lets them waver and warp naturally, aided by gentle nudges from her toolkit.  She conveys this existential kind of thing that fills up the room.  There’s a mindful smallness you feel when listening to tones like this, like listening to silence at night.  What do you call that, tinnitus of the sublime?  It takes away all of the petty pressures of being human.  And I think, I pay my therapist $20 a week to relax my mind when I could do it at a $12 show.  If you have ever spent a night in bed with Tangerine Dream, it’s worth spending an evening at the venue to wash your face with these kinds of waves. I never have before.

I started chatting up Confused Guy from earlier, spreading the gospel of music I love.  He was tempted to clap for Dickson, but it would have interrupted the tone and he wanted to be respectful.  Still, he seems floored.  He’s the type that sees what’s playing and goes out mostly blind, a sense of adventure that I can appreciate, having flown solo at most shows as of late.  Suddenly his tone shifts.  He’s needy, looking for a party, but I am not a party.  I become uncomfortable, firstly because I had thought I might end the night with a new show-hopping bud, and secondly because I am reminded of what I have read about jazz scenes and chemical self-destruction.  There’s that mortality that permeates the topic of jazz.  He’s gone before CGI Jesus, and I wonder if he enjoyed the music beyond what was necessary to score.  It feels grim.

Next was Dolphin Hyperspace, the LA-based duo being joined by drummer Daniel Rossi.  They started with fat whomper “Buster Boy,” setting the pace for the set.  The audience was awash in bouncing bodies, including mine.  Kane bounces, his red-capped head bopping in full bass face euphoria.  McCabe had the bounce too, though she was limited by proximity of her horn to the mic, and I wonder what she would do if she could clip one on somehow.  But she was still enough that I could check out her dope tats when I wasn’t looking at her fingers gliding on the sax. I see the way they watch each other and take turns ripping it as the drummer whips out sick *kssssh kssssh* beats.  At one point (I think it was Lizard Sisterz?) the combination of electronics and instruments sound like Fingathing with new ingredients, and I am in heaven.  “You fucking murdered me,” I shout, because my mania is on 11 and I don’t know how to make more words than that.  With a cavewoman’s cadence I ask “that was jazz?”  “Well, hyperjazz.” McCabe answers, vaguely undecided.  It’s too late to change. The word ricochets off the walls of my mind, lighting it up like a pinball machine.  ｈｙｐｅｒｊａｚｚ .  

Google yields little but this word is so coooool

The final act was CGI Jesus, a group led by bassist and composer Kevin Eichenberger.  Their bandcamp suggests a combination of “trash jazz” and “chamber punk,” which are also new favorite word combinations that I have never encountered before.  There were drums, guitar, and trumpet on deck for the night, although I couldn’t tell you who was “in” the band and who was “with” the band.  Jazz doesn’t seem to have these kinds of clear demarcations, which makes me wonder if seeing shows and all of these different individual instrumentalists is kind of like trying all the flavor/topping/sprinkle combinations at Rita’s Italian Ices.  You’ll never really get through ‘em all.  CGI Jesus leaves me with a prog aftertaste, but they had so many different types of sounds and emotions going on.  Sometimes you’re grooving, sometimes it’s angsty, sometimes it’s discordant, and sometimes it’s yearning.  Sometimes it was mournful, like when Eichenberger dedicated a tune to trumpeter jaimie branch, who recently departed – she was my age and build – untimely.  There’s that shadow again.  This was probably her community.

In hindsight it was all emotional whiplash, but that’s what makes it experimental.  You don’t get on a rollercoaster for a smooth ride. 

On the way out, the venue is playing a cover of King Crimson’s Schizoid Man.  I have seen them live twice, once with John Paul Jones of Led Zeppelin on the bill, too.  How much jazz have I heard in their music, unaware?  Or in Jones’s?  It’s funny, my notion of jazz used to be so plain, singular.  But you have to go beyond the portal to really see what’s up.  There is nothing really plain about it.

Claire Dickson Bandcamp ★ Claire Dickson Website

Dolphin Hyperspace Bandcamp ★ Dolphin Hyperspace Instagram

CGI Jesus Bandcamp ★ CGI Jesus Instagram

An Evening with Ho99o9, N8NOFACE, and Hoddy, The Young Jedi

Posted: May 4, 2022 by Kat Meow in Bowery Ballroom, Hip Hop, Ho99o9, Hoddy, Live Shows, Los Angeles, N8NoFace, NYC, Tucson
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Eaddy and TheOGM of Ho99o9

Cut to a chilly Saturday night at Bowery Ballroom. The stores are closed, but whole street glistens with spray-painted names and signs. A young *somebody* in a hand-altered hoodie is having his photo and video taken by onlookers. A clown-faced goth waits for her friends in front of a tequila bar. Randoms donned in black get their last burn of rolled flower before getting their wristbands. Some fresh-faced kid tries to take a piss in the waning daylight while his friend stands guard. New York City.

I’m mostly a stranger to the many worlds of hip hop. Until recently I hadn’t found that band that gave me an “in” to start really looking around the alternative hip hop universe. Then M-S-G OG Soda invited me to a free show one Halloween night to see Ho99o9, a band he saw open for Korn. Holy fucking shit. I got to watch TheOGM tear a wedding dress off of his body while being assaulted with the most guttural cyber-queer industrial noise I have ever heard. It was glorious and terrifying at the same time. So when Soda told me they were coming around again, I knew I had to be there.

The show starts with Baseville, a duo of New Jersey locals known as The General and Hoddy the Young Jedi. It didn’t take long until the crowd jumped into a frenzy and a pit opened up. Baseville’s beats are deep and deliberate and throbbing with noise, and it suddenly occurs to me how close punk and hip-hop really are in terms of attitude and rage. “Never Nothing No More” sticks in my head as a song with a kind of frustrated gravity, while one of their other tunes held a repetitious refrain of “I’m working” that that caught me as a little mischievous. The songs rang quick and short and burned with noisy undertones. The set ends, and Soda comments about already seeing a bloodied face in the men’s room. “He’s like, ‘do I need stitches? Do I need them yet?,'” quoting a stage diver worried about the impact of his head wound on his viewing experience. That kind of night.

I had no idea what to expect from N8NOFACE, only knowing that my friends heard good things. I’m burning up the last sips of a vodka double when up on stage comes this man with a glorious moustache and crazed expression. He simply declares “I’m N8NOFACE and this is synth punk.” Seconds later this man is shouting his stories of drugs and sobriety, murder and suicide, all over fast-paced darkwave synths. Who the fuck brings Xymox to the hip hop kids? N8NOFACE does, with an austere DIY setup and his own devilish madness. He pulls his shirt up over his own head and beats his own face while screaming in a kind of excited rage, as if reveling in his self punishment. He switches between devil horns and post-punk shimmying. His gruff facade fits right in with the gangster genre, but he’s got a sense of humor about himself, too. There’s also something nougaty he’s trying to show you in his mentions of lost friends, or his request for kindness at his sole acoustic number. I immediately swarmed his table and bought the good shit. N8 is one to watch.

N8NOFACE

Then came 999. Past mixtures of punk and hip-hop were never my flavor, but the two genres become blood brothers here. Eaddy ironically sports an L.A.P.D. tee to poke at the law, a favorite song topic. The cacophony is noisy and rhythmic, and the crowd pumps in time. Someone jumps on stage at the start, brandishing a shirt that says “God is Gay” to “a roar of enthusiasm,” as Olivia Cieri of Invisible Oranges writes. Stage jumpers make OGM and Eaddy light up. “Motherfucking Action Bronson” they call one tattooed fella who jumps into the crowd. I worry that the crowd parted for his landing. Dark thumping beats vibrate the brain stem during fan favorites like “Bone Collector” and “Battery Not Included.” At one point, Hoddy sits on the side of the stage watching the show, still in his orange jumper, before using his Young Jedi mind tricks to make eye contact with the pit and launch himself into the crowd. I swallow my last double so I can free my hands to pump with the crowd.

A brief interlude as we approach the end of the show and TheOGM lights a joint and sways softly to Crystal Waters’ legendary house track, “Gypsy Woman.” I see his head and shoulders hanging backward in a cloud of smoky ecstasy, thick dreads falling down his back, *feefeefeeling* it. The lyrics thicken now that they’re nestled between Ho99o9’s biting assaults on police brutality, politics, and dystopia. He then smiles and then flirts at Eaddy, who strips off his teeshirt to reveal a tattooed musculature. Eaddy responds with a grin. TheOGM is repulsive and divine… and terrifyingly sexy.

Ho99o9 is just full of these wild juxtapositions, sometimes darkly comedic, causing them to pull up a really diverse crowd. “Punks, goths, queers and queens,” Soda says, noting the sprawl, a melting pot of subcultures others would think too insular to meld like this. In front of me, a duo of elder punks make space to avoid of the clutches of the pit. Across the floor, rave kids in bunnies and rainbows talk to hip-hop kids in all black streetwear. Kids in Los-Angelean baseball jerseys share the floor with platform-boot goth girls and genderfuckers, all united by the horror and political rage and dirt of lives lived in America’s economic taint. It seems it’s the one thing we all have in common.

Hoddy & Baseville Bandcamp ★ BaseheadTV Youtube

N8NOFACE Bandcamp ★ N8NOFACE Linktree

Ho99o9 Instagram ★ Ho99o9 Website

A Friday Night with Coventry Carols, He Was a God, and Sadartha

Posted: March 30, 2022 by Kat Meow in Connecticut, Coventry Carols, He Was A God, Live Shows, NYC, OfficialSoda, Richmond, Sadartha
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Even though New York is still coated in a late-March sheet of ice, I keep trying to find the push to yank my gravitationally-enhanced behind out of my hovel and go live inside some lights and music for a few hours. So I rolled out of my house, said goodbye to my sweet little doggo, and headed out to legendary Long Island rock spot Mr. Beery’s for the release of Coventry Carols’ self-titled first album. Supported by New Haven’s He Was A God and Richmond’s Sadartha, the show was a solid three hours of guitar shredding, screaming, and rock ‘n’ roll camaraderie. These three bands vibrated the walls into Saturday morning to welcome debut album Coventry Carols into the world.

First was Sadartha. The Virginia-based duo of guitarist/vocalist Johnny Noxious and bassist Mello Cefola displayed a collection of new grunge tunes. Sadartha’s fat guitar vibrations have that dark energy that remind me of how Alice in Chains used to feel. You know, the feeling that grabs you by the back of your sinuses and pumps rage into your brain. Sadartha set the stage for an evening of heavy flavors with just a touch of vocal pomp, inspired by “the ghost of Billy Corgan’s hair” that permeated their song “Eclipsing Binaries.” Although it’s fair to say, Noxious has enough glorious-enough hair of his own. Their latest album, Sad Art, came out in October.

The show raged on with pure personality metal/prog act He Was A God. Hailing from Connecticut, this fivesome melds prog sensibilities with metal sounds. Their drummer (Chris Densky of Genitorturers fame) is an absolute beast. This group dazzles with sonic Maiden-esque solos of alternating guitarists Ray Zvovushe and Tony Pellino. With bassist Dan Perrone bringing the heavy, and the charisma of Man In Black vocalist Ben Curns, He Was A God positively melted my face into goop. With politically biting lyrics and megaphone-using showmanship, I couldn’t take my eyes off of them. Their new EP The Smile & The Scar came out in December. Check out “Two New Stars” – it was sick.

Finally, Coventry Carols’ themselves brought the house down with a warm welcome from a nearly packed Beery’s crowd.  Singer/songwriter Soda Survive reunites with fellow (e)motion picture alumnus Terry “T.T.” Taylor to produce another series of hard but core-smacking tunes. With the addition of bassist Cliff “Sugarbear” Catropa, the three produce an emo-type sound with a little extra metal rage added for good measure. If Sadartha was inspired by the ghost of Billy Corgan’s hair, Soda was positively choked by it, feeling his 90s grunge fantasy with his stage antics and some healthy banter with T.T. and an audience member who was gifted with a dedication for their tune, “This Serenade.”

The losers for the night? The drummers. T.T.’s lead foot broke the last working pedal, Sadartha’s be-hated drummer Manny the Mannequin passed out after two songs (FUCK YOU, MANNY!), and HWAG’s drummer lost a stick to a joyful buffoon in the crowd that now has a prized souvenir (mind my jealousy). Still, a raucous show, and just the kind of energy a girl needs to emerge from winter frost. Gotta love a $10 show!

Sadartha’s Bandcamp – Sadartha’s Instagram

He Was A God Bandcamp – He Was A God Instagram

Coventry Carols Bandcamp – Coventry Carols Instagram

The Magpie Salute-Photos by GEM Photography

Posted: August 23, 2017 by Soda in Live Shows, The Magpie Salute
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Last Sunday night, 08/13 The Magpie Salute treated The Paramount in Huntington Long Island to a near two and a half hours of phenomenal rock and soul! Thanks to venue director Adam Ellis for taking care of us! GEM Photography was in tow and sent in some cool shots to M-S-G that I wanted to share with you guys. What a gig!

A time capsule kinda evening with Lisa Loeb

Posted: April 5, 2017 by Soda in Lisa Loeb, Live Shows, Review
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Less than a week ago I had the pleasure of seeing Lisa Loeb perform again. I’d seen her only once, and it was 20 or so years ago in NYC when I was kid. I remember being so happy after watching her play and being able to be a part of that time when she was really at a peek and I myself was just learning how to be a singer and a songwriter and really absorbing the moment. Now, so many years later and having seen her again was a similar experience but different at the same time. I realized her influence even more.

Promptly taking the stage at 8pm, Lisa and her guitar looked more petite than usual in the Boulton Center on Long Island. Moments into the performance you knew that you were truly in on something special. The room was full of people that were very eager. It was obvious this woman’s work had come to be adored.

Lisa Loeb Live @ The Boulton Center, Long Island 03.30.17

Lisa Loeb live @ The Boulton Center, Long Island 03.30.17 (Photo by Soda)

 

Lisa played and sang and regaled us with a number of stories that spanned the course from her time just starting out up until that very moment. I mean, who wouldn’t want to hear stories of someone coming up in the early to mid-nineties in NYC. Sign me way up! This particular performance was full of those stories and just about equal to the songs given like precious little gifts, and, I was one of the lucky people there for the unwrapping, (thanks Blacktop Records). Hits like “Truthfully” and of course “Stay” were delivered so delicately with connections to the stories that went along with them. Lisa told us about how “Stay” of course changed her life. She was at number one without a record deal, we learned how that happened thanks to the film Reality Bites. It all sounded so magical. We were also treated to songs like “The Disappointing Pancake,” a tune true to it’s title. If you didn’t know, Lisa has also become successful in writing songs for kids, she also has an amazing foundation called Camp Lisa in which all proceeds from that recording of the same name goes to help children who can’t afford a summer camp experience to have one.

Myself and Lisa Loeb, Boulton Center 03/30/17

Myself and Lisa Loeb, Boulton Center 03.30.17

We could sit and listen all night long. It was intimate and personal. She has the charm to make you feel like you’re the only one in the room. Throughout the performance Lisa may have forgotten some words and had to poke around a few chords as well as a very nimble guitar intro in which she was very happy to have learned because it was “the guitar AND bass part rolled into one”. Those happy little mistakes made only for a better show, one in which a successful songwriter, an actor, an author and more…can just seem so, human. Tales of her friends and her children made you feel like you’d have known Lisa your whole life, and…that is a true gift. I certainly hope I don’t have to wait a bunch of years to see the one and only Lisa Loeb perform again as some shows you want to just get lost in. Thanks Lisa!

Check out the latest Lisa Loeb album, Feel What U Feel, out now.

Lisa Loeb - Feel What U Feel

A band called…mUg bUg

Posted: February 8, 2017 by Soda in Dave Alvin, Live Shows, mUg bUg, NYC
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Saturday Night’s are better for a lot more than fighting, this past Saturday was a primo example. Way East on the Island of Long, in a town called Ronkonkoma, sits a music venue called Backstage Pass. This little place over the last year or so has started to prove that it truly is a killer place for live music. This night a great set of bands took the stage there, but, I cannot lie, my mission was to catch the “one and only show” by this band called mUg bUg. Fronted by legendary howler and good friend of mine Dave Alvin, I was super excited to see this band because I grew up listening to Dave fronting Queens based icons White Trash (“Apple Pie”, “The Crawl”). I wasn’t sure what to expect as I’ve only ever known Dave from WT. I of course expected it to be quality, but I wasn’t completely prepared for how rocked myself and everybody in the room would become.

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Right after War & Blues wrapped up their loosely conceptual set mUg bUg swiftly loaded on and nonchalantly took the stage with Alvin simply announcing who they were. The amount of thunderous riffage, pickle jar tightness and ease the band put forth was completely earth shattering. Alvin’s voice was edgier than ever and in tip-top shape. His fellow bugs were also clearly seasoned badass musicians. This was a no nonsense gig from a group of gents that wanted to do one thing, and that was to give an eager and very impressed audience a solid rock show, and, it transcended that surely.

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mUg bUg Photo: Soda

Highlights of the short set were “I Lost My Mind In El Paso” and another tune called “Don’t Let the Old Man In” which is purely about hanging on to your youth and not letting age dictate how you should live your life. Dave, clearly taking a more serious approach to his lyric writing this time around also bridged the songs with his usual smart ass honest humor.

Quick and to the point leaving the funk at the door the band delivered a set of hard rock songs that left everyone eagerly wanting more. A great place to leave off. *Hint hint guys*. Very much hoping for another performance from this band who could easily rise to the top of New York’s hot list.

Follow along on their FaceBook page: mUg bUg Official Facebook

Skid Row Live @ Irving Plaza, 11/04/15

Posted: November 11, 2015 by Soda in Irving Plaza, Live Shows, New Jersey, Skid Row, TNT, Tony Harnell
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Skid Row, 30 Years, Irving Plaza

Skid Row, 25 Years, Irving Plaza

Last Wednesday Night Skid Row returned to Irving Plaza to celebrate 25 plus years of being, well…completely badass.

Set to hit the stage at 10:00pm (after direct support from The Blackfires who never disappoint), promptly at 10:02pm a deep red light filled the stage and The Ramones “Blitzkrieg Bop” came blasting over the PA System, obviously the work of the Skids as they are big fans. In tow this time however was “real” singer number 3, Tony Harnell who is mostly famous for his work with Norwegian Rock/Metal band TNT. Tony has always been known for his golden pipes with said band and through various other projects leading up to his now current time as front man of Skid Row. Which, let’s face it, is no easy task. From Iconic drama queen Sebastian Bach whom the band had mega success with throughout the late 80’s and early 90’s (Do I really need to name songs?) onto the edgier less polished Johnny Solinger to just a few months in, Tony Harnell.

Immediately kicking the show into high gear with heavy opener “Slave to The Grind”, Skid Row seemed to turn Irving Plaza into an instant time warp. Not to say their music seems dated because it truly doesn’t, a good song is a good song now or 20 some odd years ago. What I mean when I say that is that the band seemed completely youthful, hell Rachel Bolan certainly knows where the fountain of youth is because the guy looks amazing. “Slave” lead us into “Big Guns”, another classic Skid Row song from the monster selling self-titled debut from 1989. Keeping the energy on high next up was “Let’s Go” off of Solinger era EP United World Rebellion: Chapter One. Barely 20 minutes into the show the band let us know that this wasn’t going to be some novelty act trip down memory lane, better yet, that it was a group stronger and ever wiser than before relishing in an almost 30-year history and looking brightly to the future. More interesting still after the opening onslaught was hearing Tony Harnell announce to the crowd “We’re Skid Row!”

Harnell is no slouch when it comes to hitting these parts right on. As usual his voice was primo, although coming off a little stiff in performance at times he is filling his role just fine. Honestly, when I first heard the news of him joining the band it seemed totally logical to me. The core of Skid Row; Rachel, Snake and Scotti you can tell are not holding any punches with him. Most of the big hits were all nestled into the set list among some deeper cuts so he definitely had his work cut out for him. Is he Sebastian Bach? Nope. Johnny Solinger? Nah. He’s truly a singer that can hold his own ground and not be afraid to take on such a task.

A few things were very apparent throughout the course of the performance, the main observation being that the band looked very happy and content, Snake especially who along with Rachel took some time in between a few songs to speak to the audience who were many and fully receptive to the current Skid Row. Rachel talked about how they hadn’t played Irving Plaza since 1995 and went on to thank the audience and wax romantic about his love for The Ramones which lead us into their superior cover of “Psycho Therapy” in which Bolan sings lead on. I personally am a big time Rachel lover, his vocals, bass chops, style…he’s got it in spades.

Snake too took some time out to get personal with his audience. This is a man that is truly humbled by the continued support and completely gracious. It’s really amazing to see that.

The band ended their set with chart topper “Monkey Business” from their second record Slave to The Grind which was a major song back when it debuted on MTV in 1991 every hour upon the hour as an Exclusive plunging the band into even more super stardom. The near 15-minute version of the song that we were presented with this night was completely flesh melting. Snake and Scotti are absolute animals and traded about 10 minutes’ worth of Solos in the center of the song. Truly awe inspiring and leaving the crowd wanting more, much, much more.

Which then lead us to the encore of “Youth Gone Wild”. The one song, that started it all and the one song that would end it for us on this night ONLY. Skid Row is far from done. There is much to look forward to with Harnell at the helm. More shows and I’m quite sure a new record. For those of you that think these bands who had hits from so many years ago are washed up and just resting on their laurels wanting to reclaim their past, think again. Anyone that was in attendance knows the facts. So get it straight or take a hike! Plainly, Skid Row still rocks.

Skid Row setlist 11.04.15 Irving Plaza, NYC

Skid Row setlist 11.04.15 Irving Plaza, NYC

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