by Brian Baker
09.28.2012
Posted In: Local Music, Live Music, MidPoint Music Festival, Reviews at 06:44 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)
MPMF.12 Day 1: Sky is Dry, Beer is Wet, Music is Fantastic
The first night of MidPoint almost looked like it would be a typical rain-soaked affair, but the clouds relented and the festival’s kick-off was gorgeous and every bit as big as promised.
My first stop on the musical pub crawl that is MidPoint was not a band but a party...well, the whole bloody thing is a party, but this was an actual event thrown by the towering presence known as Brian Kitzmiller to celebrate the one year anniversary of his marketing company, Reveal Concepts. En route to Japp’s, I ran into bassist to the stars Sammy Wulfeck and guitarist/keyboardist extraordinaire Brandon Losacker, who were jimmying their bank accounts at an ATM for a little walking around green. Sammy dropped two bombshells; he’s going to be a father in less than two months, and Ric Hickey has returned from his soul-searching California sojourn. Birth and rebirth. I love synergy.
Brian’s party was a blast (any party with free OTRs is bound to be), populated by a wide variety of great people (detailed later), with incomparable Rock and Soul sides providing a brilliant soundtrack courtesy of DJ Bryan Dilsizian, the hardest rocking platter daddy in town. Now that’s a party.
I had intended to make my way to Grammer’s for Dressy Bessy but I was making rather merry at Japp’s and, to quote the legendary Shel Silverstein, I got stoned and I missed it. So I headed over to Mr. Pitiful’s for my first band of the evening, the Demos out of Rochester, New York. Head honcho/zen master Mike Breen yardsticked these guys against the likes of Wondermints, the Shins and Big Star, and I would be inclined to agree; the sextet’s facility for melancholy Pop melodicism, hooky jangle and stellar vocal harmonies is the equal to any of those lofty references. Naturally enough, in the live setting, some of the Pop subtlety of The Demos’ debut full length, last year’s Lovely, is jettisoned in favor of a more bracing sonic presentation, like the amped up Strokes-like storm kicked up on “Nervous.” This was The Demos’ Cincinnati debut, and they seemed to be enjoying themselves as much as they were being enjoyed, hopefully a sign that they’ll be coming back our way soon.
After a stop at Mr. Hanton’s for the most delicious hot dog on the planet (no snouts, hooves or ass jelly in these bad boys...it’s a meal on a bun), and a quick chat with MidPoint co-architect/bon vivant Sean Rhiney, my intention was to head down to the Blue Wisp to catch Black Taxi (which I heard was incredible) but, having gotten little sleep the night before, decided to conserve energy and drop in at the Main Event to catch Saturn Batteries and stick around for Sohio, one of my longtime local faves.
Saturn Batteries is the brainchild of Brad Gibson, who’s done bass stints in Walk the Moon, Young Heirlooms and Charlie Hustle, and is now trying his hand in the frontman role. If last night’s performance is the standard, Gibson should have made the leap a long time ago; Saturn Batteries taps into classic melodic Beatlesque Pop with a sugary Pixies icing, resulting in a sonic confection that is powerfully energetic without being jittery or pointlessly arty. The quartet churned out a good set and provided plenty of evidence that time and fine tuning could gain them a large and loyal following, locally and well beyond.
Next up at the Main Event was Sohio, a band whose studio efforts I’ve reviewed positively and often but have somehow managed to miss consistently in a live context. Sporting a new bass player, Sohio tore shit up good and proper and proved why they’ve been a fixture at MidPoint for a good many years. It’s a rare band that can direct traffic at the intersection of Americana, Rock both rootsy and garagey, Blues, Punk, Pop and Country without having an eight-genre pile-up. Sohio is that rare band, deftly balancing the noise that rattles rafters and the subtlety that breaks hearts. Their relative obscurity may be a product of their own design, but Sohio can and should be the next big thing.
I ducked out of Sohio’s gig a little early to hit Below Zero for a taste of the Terror Pigeon Dance Revolt, but the duo was still setting up when I arrived, so I witnessed a good deal more than I anticipated. TPDR is a wild rhythm ride, a gene splice of They Might Be Giants and Ween that’s been mutated into an Indie Rock mash-up of American Bandstand and Burning Man. The music is performed by a rotating cast of characters and programmed by Neil Fridd, and with the music safely stored on a hard drive, Fridd and his lovely partner (presumably Haley Riddering, but that’s a guess based on limited research done on deadline) are free to roam the crowd, form a conga line, fall into a suggestive pile on the dance floor, snake string lights into the pogoing audience and deploy a giant gray parachute for everyone to dance under like a silky umbrella. TPDR is a glittery interactive Indie Rock dance slam and if they should venture away from the Brooklyn, New York base and into our cozy confines again in the near or distant future, you would be well advised to get in line.
After TPDR, I headed back to the Main Event for the finish of Jody Stapleton and the Generals’ set. Sparrow Bellows big bass master Sammy Wulfeck is providing the pulse for the Generals these days, and the Black Owls’ Brandon Losacker is doing double duty on guitar and keys so I was curious to hear this new iteration of Jody’s sound. I was always a fan of the Stapletons back in the day, and the Generals are yet another fine example of Jody’s consummate ability to translate influence and inspiration into his own singular sound. The Generals’ frame of reference is the sunny Pop of ’70s AM radio and the roar of Classic Rock, dragged kicking and screaming into the 21st century. Jody’s hushed singer/songwriter vocals are a subtle counterpoint to the frenzy kicked up by Sammy, Brandon and drummer Nick Mavridoglou (spell check is obviously doing me no good here), kind of like Ray Davies recording a tribute to Wilco’s Summerteeth.
Finally, it was time for the last show of the first night of the 11th edition of MidPoint (that sounded a little more biblical than I’d intended), which for me was the inspired garage tumult of Nashville’s Turbo Fruits. From the opening stomp to the last ringing chord, Turbo Fruits (at one time, a side project for the late, lamented Be Your Own Pet) were alternately mesmerizing and pulverizing, whipping the assembled multitude at the Drinkery into a writhing mass of humanity, baptized in sweat, sanctified by volume and praising the gods of Rock for allowing them access to the forbidden Turbo Fruits.
At one point, frontman Jonas Stein gave a mighty Rock kick move and lost his shoe in the crowd, which someone was kind enough to return to the stage. Stein thanked the shoe samaritan verily, because, as he noted, he’d only brought two shoes with him. It was unclear whether he meant two pairs of shoes or just two shoes, but his gratitude was commensurate with that of a guy who was looking at going barefoot for the remainder of the tour. At any rate, Turbo Fruits kept their feet (with or without shoes) firmly on the necks of the MidPoint crowd for the duration of their hour-plus set, leaving everyone wanting for more at the conclusion and perfectly teeing up expectations for Friday night.
MidPoint 2012 Thursday Night Notes:
• Brian Kitzmiller’s one-year soiree for his new marketing outfit, Reveal Concepts, was, as noted, a blast. Mere moments after hearing Sammy’s news about Ric Hickey’s triumphant return, I walked into Japp’s and was greeted by the prodigal son himself. His relocation to California was a journey of self-discovery, an attempt to reconcile his past, present and future and come to grips with what he truly wants and how to get it. Sometimes you have to go a long way from home to realize what home means. And for Ric, this is home. Welcome back, old friend.
• Also was introduced to longtime photographer and soundman Chuck Madden, a guy that I saw running the board at every Raisins show I ever attended but never actually met. We traded a few stories over Brian’s free OTRs, and he gave me his card; I hope that we can trade more stories and quaff more brewage in the very near future.
• I ran into the Generals’ Brandon Losacker and Nick Mavridoglou at the Demos’ show, which they were digging but Mr. Pitiful’s $7.50 Jack and Coke sent them down to MOTR for the Filament. On my way out, I spotted Magnolia Mountain’s Mark Utley at the bar, who was anticipating the Space Capone show at the Blue Wisp.
• Ran into my Kroger pal and Faint Signal keyboardist/guitarist Paul Roberts on my way to the Midway. If you lament the days when bands like Rush, Pink Floyd, King Crimson and Yes were relevant, you owe it to yourself to check out the band’s self-titled debut. They’ve got a serious Prog vibe, but not in a wizardy, disappear-up-their-own-ass way.
• As previously noted, just before hitting Mr. Hanton’s for another brilliant hot dog (they call them handwiches, I call them awesome), I crossed paths with Sean Rhiney at the Midway. His lovely friend Susan offered to buy me a beer, but Sean wound up paying for the trio of Goose Islands and I got the tip. Susan observed that it must be her feminine wiles, to which I responded, “I wish I had boobs. Wait, I do. I just don’t know how to work them.” Perhaps having another beer at this point was not a sound idea. At any rate, we had a nice chat about the old days (Susan could actually claim some ownership in MidPoint; she was dating Bill Donabedian and introduced him to Sean, and the rest is history) and the new days and kids (Susan was trying to recruit Sean into the wild world of parenting; he didn’t seem to be drinking the Kool-Aid), then we hit the night in opposing directions.
• Sohio’s Mark Houk bought me not one but two beers at the Main Event. I believed him to be a prince among men, but a two beer evening is proof beyond proof. I raise my hangover cure to you, my friend.
• No Matthew Fenton sightings on the first night. I tried to e-mail him this week but the message bounced. And I saw his name on the Twitter feed at Below Zero, but it wound up being a message from last year. Classic tweets from MidPoints past? As Mike Breen noted, that is retro at its most contemporary.
• Had a long talk with Sammy Wulfeck about the trials and tribulations of parenting. There is nothing more rewarding or more likely to make you want to stick your hand in the garbage disposal than having children. You can’t intellectualize it, you just jump. No one is ever ready to have kids. You can’t get old enough to be ready. You just do it. And it’s great, and it’s not, which is a capsule description of life. Sammy assured me he’d give me a call if he needed any advice … I fully expect the phone to ring right after they cut the cord.
• As I was walking by the line to get into the Dirty Projectors, I heard what appeared to be an able-bodied Indie Rock man say to his companions, “There’s going to be chairs in there, right?” Really? (In fact, they did.) Look, if you’ve got some physical disability not plainly apparent to the naked (or beer-clouded) eye, then by all means chair up. But you looked hale and hearty to me, so come on, dude, I’m 55 and I manage to stand my fat ass up for about 75% of the MidPoint experience. When I told this story later to CityBeat publisher Dan Bockrath, he smartassedly noted that I was seated while telling this tale. It’s not nice to pimp slap your elders, Dan. It is nice to buy them a beer … I’ll see you tonight.
• Ran into Mike Breen, Fairmount Girl/Culture Queer’s amazing Dana Hamblen, former Mad Anthony bassist Dave Markey and MA’s inimitable Ringo Jones at the Drinkery. Ringo, as he is want to do, put an enormous beer in my hand, which ultimately led me to regale Mike with the strange circumstances of my bygone days of chemical ingestion. He wisely slipped away when I went to the bathroom. That or I hallucinated him into being there in the first place. I’m never quite sure, and it’s happened before.
My first stop on the musical pub crawl that is MidPoint was not a band but a party...well, the whole bloody thing is a party, but this was an actual event thrown by the towering presence known as Brian Kitzmiller to celebrate the one year anniversary of his marketing company, Reveal Concepts. En route to Japp’s, I ran into bassist to the stars Sammy Wulfeck and guitarist/keyboardist extraordinaire Brandon Losacker, who were jimmying their bank accounts at an ATM for a little walking around green. Sammy dropped two bombshells; he’s going to be a father in less than two months, and Ric Hickey has returned from his soul-searching California sojourn. Birth and rebirth. I love synergy.
Brian’s party was a blast (any party with free OTRs is bound to be), populated by a wide variety of great people (detailed later), with incomparable Rock and Soul sides providing a brilliant soundtrack courtesy of DJ Bryan Dilsizian, the hardest rocking platter daddy in town. Now that’s a party.
I had intended to make my way to Grammer’s for Dressy Bessy but I was making rather merry at Japp’s and, to quote the legendary Shel Silverstein, I got stoned and I missed it. So I headed over to Mr. Pitiful’s for my first band of the evening, the Demos out of Rochester, New York. Head honcho/zen master Mike Breen yardsticked these guys against the likes of Wondermints, the Shins and Big Star, and I would be inclined to agree; the sextet’s facility for melancholy Pop melodicism, hooky jangle and stellar vocal harmonies is the equal to any of those lofty references. Naturally enough, in the live setting, some of the Pop subtlety of The Demos’ debut full length, last year’s Lovely, is jettisoned in favor of a more bracing sonic presentation, like the amped up Strokes-like storm kicked up on “Nervous.” This was The Demos’ Cincinnati debut, and they seemed to be enjoying themselves as much as they were being enjoyed, hopefully a sign that they’ll be coming back our way soon.
After a stop at Mr. Hanton’s for the most delicious hot dog on the planet (no snouts, hooves or ass jelly in these bad boys...it’s a meal on a bun), and a quick chat with MidPoint co-architect/bon vivant Sean Rhiney, my intention was to head down to the Blue Wisp to catch Black Taxi (which I heard was incredible) but, having gotten little sleep the night before, decided to conserve energy and drop in at the Main Event to catch Saturn Batteries and stick around for Sohio, one of my longtime local faves.
Saturn Batteries is the brainchild of Brad Gibson, who’s done bass stints in Walk the Moon, Young Heirlooms and Charlie Hustle, and is now trying his hand in the frontman role. If last night’s performance is the standard, Gibson should have made the leap a long time ago; Saturn Batteries taps into classic melodic Beatlesque Pop with a sugary Pixies icing, resulting in a sonic confection that is powerfully energetic without being jittery or pointlessly arty. The quartet churned out a good set and provided plenty of evidence that time and fine tuning could gain them a large and loyal following, locally and well beyond.
Next up at the Main Event was Sohio, a band whose studio efforts I’ve reviewed positively and often but have somehow managed to miss consistently in a live context. Sporting a new bass player, Sohio tore shit up good and proper and proved why they’ve been a fixture at MidPoint for a good many years. It’s a rare band that can direct traffic at the intersection of Americana, Rock both rootsy and garagey, Blues, Punk, Pop and Country without having an eight-genre pile-up. Sohio is that rare band, deftly balancing the noise that rattles rafters and the subtlety that breaks hearts. Their relative obscurity may be a product of their own design, but Sohio can and should be the next big thing.
I ducked out of Sohio’s gig a little early to hit Below Zero for a taste of the Terror Pigeon Dance Revolt, but the duo was still setting up when I arrived, so I witnessed a good deal more than I anticipated. TPDR is a wild rhythm ride, a gene splice of They Might Be Giants and Ween that’s been mutated into an Indie Rock mash-up of American Bandstand and Burning Man. The music is performed by a rotating cast of characters and programmed by Neil Fridd, and with the music safely stored on a hard drive, Fridd and his lovely partner (presumably Haley Riddering, but that’s a guess based on limited research done on deadline) are free to roam the crowd, form a conga line, fall into a suggestive pile on the dance floor, snake string lights into the pogoing audience and deploy a giant gray parachute for everyone to dance under like a silky umbrella. TPDR is a glittery interactive Indie Rock dance slam and if they should venture away from the Brooklyn, New York base and into our cozy confines again in the near or distant future, you would be well advised to get in line.
After TPDR, I headed back to the Main Event for the finish of Jody Stapleton and the Generals’ set. Sparrow Bellows big bass master Sammy Wulfeck is providing the pulse for the Generals these days, and the Black Owls’ Brandon Losacker is doing double duty on guitar and keys so I was curious to hear this new iteration of Jody’s sound. I was always a fan of the Stapletons back in the day, and the Generals are yet another fine example of Jody’s consummate ability to translate influence and inspiration into his own singular sound. The Generals’ frame of reference is the sunny Pop of ’70s AM radio and the roar of Classic Rock, dragged kicking and screaming into the 21st century. Jody’s hushed singer/songwriter vocals are a subtle counterpoint to the frenzy kicked up by Sammy, Brandon and drummer Nick Mavridoglou (spell check is obviously doing me no good here), kind of like Ray Davies recording a tribute to Wilco’s Summerteeth.
Finally, it was time for the last show of the first night of the 11th edition of MidPoint (that sounded a little more biblical than I’d intended), which for me was the inspired garage tumult of Nashville’s Turbo Fruits. From the opening stomp to the last ringing chord, Turbo Fruits (at one time, a side project for the late, lamented Be Your Own Pet) were alternately mesmerizing and pulverizing, whipping the assembled multitude at the Drinkery into a writhing mass of humanity, baptized in sweat, sanctified by volume and praising the gods of Rock for allowing them access to the forbidden Turbo Fruits.
At one point, frontman Jonas Stein gave a mighty Rock kick move and lost his shoe in the crowd, which someone was kind enough to return to the stage. Stein thanked the shoe samaritan verily, because, as he noted, he’d only brought two shoes with him. It was unclear whether he meant two pairs of shoes or just two shoes, but his gratitude was commensurate with that of a guy who was looking at going barefoot for the remainder of the tour. At any rate, Turbo Fruits kept their feet (with or without shoes) firmly on the necks of the MidPoint crowd for the duration of their hour-plus set, leaving everyone wanting for more at the conclusion and perfectly teeing up expectations for Friday night.
MidPoint 2012 Thursday Night Notes:
• Brian Kitzmiller’s one-year soiree for his new marketing outfit, Reveal Concepts, was, as noted, a blast. Mere moments after hearing Sammy’s news about Ric Hickey’s triumphant return, I walked into Japp’s and was greeted by the prodigal son himself. His relocation to California was a journey of self-discovery, an attempt to reconcile his past, present and future and come to grips with what he truly wants and how to get it. Sometimes you have to go a long way from home to realize what home means. And for Ric, this is home. Welcome back, old friend.
• Also was introduced to longtime photographer and soundman Chuck Madden, a guy that I saw running the board at every Raisins show I ever attended but never actually met. We traded a few stories over Brian’s free OTRs, and he gave me his card; I hope that we can trade more stories and quaff more brewage in the very near future.
• I ran into the Generals’ Brandon Losacker and Nick Mavridoglou at the Demos’ show, which they were digging but Mr. Pitiful’s $7.50 Jack and Coke sent them down to MOTR for the Filament. On my way out, I spotted Magnolia Mountain’s Mark Utley at the bar, who was anticipating the Space Capone show at the Blue Wisp.
• Ran into my Kroger pal and Faint Signal keyboardist/guitarist Paul Roberts on my way to the Midway. If you lament the days when bands like Rush, Pink Floyd, King Crimson and Yes were relevant, you owe it to yourself to check out the band’s self-titled debut. They’ve got a serious Prog vibe, but not in a wizardy, disappear-up-their-own-ass way.
• As previously noted, just before hitting Mr. Hanton’s for another brilliant hot dog (they call them handwiches, I call them awesome), I crossed paths with Sean Rhiney at the Midway. His lovely friend Susan offered to buy me a beer, but Sean wound up paying for the trio of Goose Islands and I got the tip. Susan observed that it must be her feminine wiles, to which I responded, “I wish I had boobs. Wait, I do. I just don’t know how to work them.” Perhaps having another beer at this point was not a sound idea. At any rate, we had a nice chat about the old days (Susan could actually claim some ownership in MidPoint; she was dating Bill Donabedian and introduced him to Sean, and the rest is history) and the new days and kids (Susan was trying to recruit Sean into the wild world of parenting; he didn’t seem to be drinking the Kool-Aid), then we hit the night in opposing directions.
• Sohio’s Mark Houk bought me not one but two beers at the Main Event. I believed him to be a prince among men, but a two beer evening is proof beyond proof. I raise my hangover cure to you, my friend.
• No Matthew Fenton sightings on the first night. I tried to e-mail him this week but the message bounced. And I saw his name on the Twitter feed at Below Zero, but it wound up being a message from last year. Classic tweets from MidPoints past? As Mike Breen noted, that is retro at its most contemporary.
• Had a long talk with Sammy Wulfeck about the trials and tribulations of parenting. There is nothing more rewarding or more likely to make you want to stick your hand in the garbage disposal than having children. You can’t intellectualize it, you just jump. No one is ever ready to have kids. You can’t get old enough to be ready. You just do it. And it’s great, and it’s not, which is a capsule description of life. Sammy assured me he’d give me a call if he needed any advice … I fully expect the phone to ring right after they cut the cord.
• As I was walking by the line to get into the Dirty Projectors, I heard what appeared to be an able-bodied Indie Rock man say to his companions, “There’s going to be chairs in there, right?” Really? (In fact, they did.) Look, if you’ve got some physical disability not plainly apparent to the naked (or beer-clouded) eye, then by all means chair up. But you looked hale and hearty to me, so come on, dude, I’m 55 and I manage to stand my fat ass up for about 75% of the MidPoint experience. When I told this story later to CityBeat publisher Dan Bockrath, he smartassedly noted that I was seated while telling this tale. It’s not nice to pimp slap your elders, Dan. It is nice to buy them a beer … I’ll see you tonight.
• Ran into Mike Breen, Fairmount Girl/Culture Queer’s amazing Dana Hamblen, former Mad Anthony bassist Dave Markey and MA’s inimitable Ringo Jones at the Drinkery. Ringo, as he is want to do, put an enormous beer in my hand, which ultimately led me to regale Mike with the strange circumstances of my bygone days of chemical ingestion. He wisely slipped away when I went to the bathroom. That or I hallucinated him into being there in the first place. I’m never quite sure, and it’s happened before.
by Deirdre Kaye
09.28.2012
Posted In: Live Music, Local Music, MidPoint Music Festival, Reviews at 06:27 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)
MPMF.12 Day 1: Fear, Loathing and Vicodin
MidPoint Night 1 through the eyes of pain-killers
I’ve sprained my neck.* I’m taking Vicodin and Thursday night is the first night of MidPoint Music Festival. When my editor told me my review should be first-person and to “think, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas,” I snorted at just how closely it might come given my current intake of prescription drugs.
No longer stoked for the experience but realizing it’s far too late to get out of going, I texted my friend, Rachel, on Wednesday night. Was she going? Could I tag along with her? The buddy system seemed like a good idea this time around. She immediately told me sure and that she had planned to see Andrew Bird, Best Coast & Dirty Projectors on Thursday.
Thursday evening, I stroll toward Washington Park. There aren’t tons of people out at 7:45, but it’s still early in the week and early in the night. There are still enough people that it’s easy to walk mindlessly at the heels of a group of scarf-donning 20-somethings and end up where I need to be to meet my friends.
I glance around, but I don’t try too hard to find Rachel. She’s one of those people you hear before you see. Instead, I find a spot near the sound booth between two relatively attractive and seemingly girlfriend-less guys, pull out my phone and begin to send texts and emails.
By 8:10, I’m bitching, though.
She knows I’m jacked up on painkillers. If I wander off with some heavily bearded rapist in skinny jeans, thinking he’s Rach, it’s all her fault. Mostly importantly, I’m absolutely distraught that I shaved my legs yesterday. I’ve always had this strange idea that if I’m about to get raped, I’ll just say, “You don’t want me. It’s a hot mess down there.” I think he’ll be disgusted by my lack of feminine upkeep leave me alone. Now I’ll never know if that line works! Has anyone already tried it? I’ll have to Google it later.It's 8:20 and I still don’t see Rachel. I do, however, see a tall, lanky shadow near the ATMs and he’s laughing. It’s Dan. I text Rach for confirmation and then head over to find him with a few other people I know. (They have names, too, but they’re really irrelevant for tonight.)
We make a few bad jokes and then Andrew Bird starts with zero fanfare. He just launches into his music, people applaud in surprise, and he carries on It’s a beautiful view. Andrew Bird has these slowly spinning art-installations that look like plumes of smoke and a very cool rotating double-Vitrolla-like thing. Above the roof of the stage glows the pretty, white flora-inspired window of Music Hall. Last time I went to Music Hall for the Opera, I was probably parked just about where my friends and I currently stood.
He’s good. His whistles have me staring at him in expectation. Where are the little animated birds fluttering toward him with ribbons for his hair and water for his face? It’s all just so pretty. I’m mesmerized.
Until my foot lands on something hard and round. Is it a sprinkler head? Yes. I know this without having to look at it. And yet, drop my head and try to find the small black circle as it hides out in the grass and my shadow. I don’t see it. But I feel it, right under my foot. It finally occurs to me that I should lift my foot and I immediately stumbled into Rachel and Dan, who shrug off my apologies. Figuring out how long I’ve known Dan requires higher math than I’m capable of, but he’s used to my stumbling into him.
The stumbling and bumping calls my attention to the fact that Andrew Bird is playing not only an entirely new song but also he’s in an entirely different spot. He’s near an upright bass, hovering over an old microphone and making music I love oh-so-much. Still, when it’s back to the usual stuff, I’m not the only one feeling the weight of his mellow music.
It’s decided that we need caffeine. Fast.
As half our group strides through back alleys and around clusters of people, Rachel tries, to no avail, to tell us that Yelp says Coffee Emporium closes at 8 p.m. She’s like one of Andrew Bird’s birds, she sounds nice in all the chaos, but she’s having a hard time rising above it. In the end, it takes standing in front of Coffee Emporium’s darkened doors for Dan and I to admit defeat.
Ira’s (Iris? I can never remember) is closed, too.
So, we do what any sensible, caffeine depraved people would do: We send Dan to his apartment to make us some while we go stand on Clay and watch Best Coast through a fence.
No one will ever convince me this isn’t the best view for their show. Sure, you can’t see their faces. But, you can still pick up on all their energy and hear things perfectly. Mostly, though, you also get to see the rest of the crowd dancing like crazy fools, singing along and having an awesome time. Standing outside that fence, I think I enjoyed the energy far more than I would if I were amidst those flying elbows and twitching hips.
Dan and, our friend, Erik are back.
They brought camp chairs and no coffee.
We utilize the chairs and this awesome see-saw for a hot minute before Dan gets a text about Bluegrass at Mr. Pitiful’s and then we’re off, again. I’m still not entirely sure what our friends were talking about at this point. They came out giddy over the .5 seconds of music they heard that sounded Bluegrass and Irish. (Despite knowing Dan for at least half my life, I’m still surprised by how absolutely stoked he is about this.) They mentioned a name that I don’t see anywhere on Mr. Pitiful’s Thursday line-up. However, on Friday we’re all meeting up at the Midway at 5p, where they are, apparently, playing again.
Despite multiple pleas of, “Are you sure we shouldn’t support our friend?” and “We could at least peak in and say ‘Hi,’” we don’t make it into Mr. Pitiful’s to say reassuring things to Young Heirloom’s Chris Rob.** For a brief second I contemplate making a stand. I’ll stand like Superman and demand we give this musician-man our dues!
Except they’re talking about caffeine, again, and if they go too far, I’ll never find them. Even not on my best of days, OTR is like that tricked out maze in Harry Potter and The Goblet of Fire. Except Lord Voldemort is played by a skinny, African American guy who comes up to Dan while we’re still on Main Street.
“Hey man, have you ever been tazed?” he asks my friend.
A bright light flashes and I’m terrified for my one-time best friend. What’s that disarmament spell? But it’s just a watch or a flash light or something and Dan, who I think I’ve only ever seen mad once (at me, of course), just shakes his head and tell the guy it’s not cool, he doesn’t even know him.
And then we’re just not there anymore. We’re in 1215 Wine Bar and Coffee Lab.
But, I don’t actually like either of those things. All I’ve wanted all this time was a pop or a chai. They have chai, though. And they’ll ice it! And, you know what else? It doesn’t taste like my coveted goodness from Fido, in Nashville, but I think it’s better than Starbucks. Holy Shit. This place needs a drive-thru.
I’m talked out of seconds by Rachel, who is bound and determined we make it to The Emery for Dirty Projector. I’m ready to give up the ghost. I just want another chai…or 10. There’s a cheese plate that looks good, too. Mm, Cheese. But, I remind myself that I’m supposed to be writing about the music. Also, I have no idea which direction I’d go to get back to my car once I’ve been properly filled with dairy products.
So, off we go, to the Emery.
It’s packed. Thank goodness Cincinnati is filled with some seriously sweet people. A bit of rearranging and the seven of us are in one long row in the balcony. We’re only forced to sit and hide yawns for a few minutes before the music starts.
I like Dirty Projectors and their quirky, disjointed Pop Rock. It makes me want to dance. Except no one in the balcony dances. I can see hints of movement and excitement below. But the people around me, the ones near the rafters, are zombie-like. No one moves, except to yawn or to leave. It’s hot, too, and I swear on anything that it smells like Skyline up there.
They should have played at Washington Park. Out in the cool air and in the open field, where there aren’t seats to lull the tired, drunken masses to sleep. That would have been better for everyone.
When I find myself trying to calculate the likelihood of my death if the balcony collapses, I know it’s time to go. It’s been a short night, but I’m done. If I stay much longer, I’ll fall asleep. Or I’ll throw up. I pop a Tums for the trip back to my car and duck out.
Once outside, I’m far less concerned than I should be about the fact that I have only a vague idea how to get to my car.
There is one thing I know for certain, though: I’m stopping for Skyline on the way home and I want extra cheese.
*Who knew that was even possible? Not me.
**That’s his name with us, whether he likes it or not.
by Blake Hammond
09.28.2012
REVIEW: The Devil Makes Three at 20th Century
It was the first night of the MidPoint Music Festival on Thursday. This means that for at least the next three days, Cincinnati will be the U.S.’s musical Mecca of sorts. It’s not only a great opportunity for the city but also for the numerous Cincinnati acts that have been struggling and grinding for a chance at real recognition, a chance many are finally awarded this weekend.
But as the calamity of festivities began to unfold downtown, The Devil Makes Three was throwing a good ole’ fashioned hootenanny of their own, 15 minutes north in Oakley at the 20th Century Theater.
Before I delve into the logistics of how the Santa Cruz natives blew the top off the 20th Century, something must be said about the opening act, John Fullbright.
This young man out of Oklahoma is a one-man band in every sense of the phrase. With his acoustic guitar, harmonica, and foot-stomping rhythms, Fullbright attained his own brand of back-porch folk providing the perfect setting for his raspy, southern drawl croon, heavy hitting guitar, and virtuosic harmonica skills. His best song (also his first) is titled, “Gawd Above,” which goes into great detail about how God is a needy asshole, showcased the 24-year-old’s potential, vocally and musically, and really got the crowd revved up for the headlining act, The Devil Makes Three.
If you haven’t heard of The Devil Makes Three, they are a three-piece Folk band out of Santa Cruz, California that incorporates Ragtime, Bluegrass, and a Punk Rock attitude in their music. Imagine Johnny Cash getting out of prison, drinking a bottle of “Old Number 7” and going home to have sweet, unprotected sex with June while listening to Dead Kennedys records. Nine-months later, you’d get The Devil Makes Three.
Even though The Devil Makes Three is used to playing sold-out shows, the smaller-than-usual crowd didn’t stop them from putting on one of the best concerts I’ve been to in awhile.
The second Pete Bernhard, Lucia Torino, and Cooper McBean strummed the first chords of “Beneath the Piano,” to the encore (a cover), “St. James Infirmary,” they had complete and total control of the room, even if it wasn’t at maximum capacity (Thanks, MidPoint!)
Part of their great crowd control came from the fact that their set list was meticulously thought out (probably not, but at least it seemed that way). They kept the crowd going with up-tempo fan favorites like “Gracefully Facedown,” “All Hail,” “Statesboro Blues,” “Old Number 7,” and “For Good Again” while still incorporating new slower jams like the blues anthem, “Dragging All Those Chains.”
Their best track of the night, however, had to be “Aces and Twos,” for it was not only the height of the hoe-down that was happening in the crowd but was technically perfect and played blindingly faster than the studio version, despite its musical complexities.
The last song they played (before the encore) is a tune titled, “Help Yourself,” which had the every patron of the 20th Century Theater doing their booze-induced jigs and solidified the fact that The Devil Makes Three had helped themselves by garnering a wider fan base in the Cincinnati area.
Overall, the only think I think could have made this concert better is if they handed out overalls, straw hats and jugs of moonshine at the door. Just keep it in mind for next time, guys.
But as the calamity of festivities began to unfold downtown, The Devil Makes Three was throwing a good ole’ fashioned hootenanny of their own, 15 minutes north in Oakley at the 20th Century Theater.
Before I delve into the logistics of how the Santa Cruz natives blew the top off the 20th Century, something must be said about the opening act, John Fullbright.
This young man out of Oklahoma is a one-man band in every sense of the phrase. With his acoustic guitar, harmonica, and foot-stomping rhythms, Fullbright attained his own brand of back-porch folk providing the perfect setting for his raspy, southern drawl croon, heavy hitting guitar, and virtuosic harmonica skills. His best song (also his first) is titled, “Gawd Above,” which goes into great detail about how God is a needy asshole, showcased the 24-year-old’s potential, vocally and musically, and really got the crowd revved up for the headlining act, The Devil Makes Three.
If you haven’t heard of The Devil Makes Three, they are a three-piece Folk band out of Santa Cruz, California that incorporates Ragtime, Bluegrass, and a Punk Rock attitude in their music. Imagine Johnny Cash getting out of prison, drinking a bottle of “Old Number 7” and going home to have sweet, unprotected sex with June while listening to Dead Kennedys records. Nine-months later, you’d get The Devil Makes Three.
Even though The Devil Makes Three is used to playing sold-out shows, the smaller-than-usual crowd didn’t stop them from putting on one of the best concerts I’ve been to in awhile.
The second Pete Bernhard, Lucia Torino, and Cooper McBean strummed the first chords of “Beneath the Piano,” to the encore (a cover), “St. James Infirmary,” they had complete and total control of the room, even if it wasn’t at maximum capacity (Thanks, MidPoint!)
Part of their great crowd control came from the fact that their set list was meticulously thought out (probably not, but at least it seemed that way). They kept the crowd going with up-tempo fan favorites like “Gracefully Facedown,” “All Hail,” “Statesboro Blues,” “Old Number 7,” and “For Good Again” while still incorporating new slower jams like the blues anthem, “Dragging All Those Chains.”
Their best track of the night, however, had to be “Aces and Twos,” for it was not only the height of the hoe-down that was happening in the crowd but was technically perfect and played blindingly faster than the studio version, despite its musical complexities.
The last song they played (before the encore) is a tune titled, “Help Yourself,” which had the every patron of the 20th Century Theater doing their booze-induced jigs and solidified the fact that The Devil Makes Three had helped themselves by garnering a wider fan base in the Cincinnati area.
Overall, the only think I think could have made this concert better is if they handed out overalls, straw hats and jugs of moonshine at the door. Just keep it in mind for next time, guys.
by Mike Breen
09.28.2012
Turbo Fruits' Guitars Stolen at MPMF
Nashville rockers lose two guitars prior to show last night at Drinkery
Not cool, MPMF thieves. A pair of guitars were stolen from Nashville's Turbo Fruits last night before the band closed out the festival's first night at The Drinkery in Over-the-Rhine. Here's the skinny:
"Both of Kingsley's guitars went missing from the 2nd level green room at The Drinkery (1150 Main St) in Cincinatti last night before our MPMF show. These guitars have a lot of sentimental value and we're looking for any leads or suggestions for pawn shops, etc. where we might track them down. One is a 1994 american fender stratocaster 40th anniversary model. The other is a 70's aria les Paul with original bigsby and an original 70's Gibson case. Its Tobacco burst with old locking tuning keys with the screw to the locking tuner key on the high e missing. Please email us at turbofruits69@gmail.com.
-Turbo Fruits"
Photo of the Strat above.
by Danny Cross
09.28.2012
MPMF Mobile Site Is Cool
Live.mpmf.com incorporates Twitter, Instagram and mass information
If you spent any time among last night’s MidPoint
festivities you probably noticed that the festival has incorporated a bunch of
technology into the production (people really like being able to see their
tweets appear live on giant screens by tagging them with #mpmf).
It turns out that there’s lots of other cool techy stuff, starting with the live.mpmf.com mobile site. (Yea, we know the term “mobile site” sounds kind of dumb like “smartphone” or “world wide web.”) The site has incorporated all the #mpmf tweets and an instagram function, allowing users to check out mass live stuff being posted to the Internet all night long. Instagram pretty much exploded during the Dirty Projectors’ set at the Emery Theatre Thursday night.
There’s also a live schedule with write-ups on every band, along with a map that also links to individual venue schedules and, again, band write-ups. It’s pretty hard to not know what’s going on if you’re using this thing (shameless plug: Thanks Topic Design!).
You can also check out live.mpmf.com on the regular Internet but it's kind of better on your phone.
More tips: The parking garage on Central Parkway between Jackson and Vine streets is offering $2 parking between 5 p.m. and 3 a.m. And food vendors will be open for business starting at 5 p.m. Friday in the Midway (12th Street between Main and Jackson) and at Washington Park. Skip pizza night and check out some food trucks.
by Mike Breen
09.28.2012
MPMF.12 Day 1: Kick-Off Run Back For Touchdown
Opening night of the MidPoint Music Festial makes for best Thursday yet
Night 1 of the 2012 MidPoint Music Festival is in the books, a fantastic Thursday that has to be by far the best attended, best booked Thursday in the festival's 11-year history.
It was a rockin' night, and also a weird one. In a good way. I caught great sets by some top-notch Rock & Roll bands, like the excellently named Shark? — which the singer/guitarist kept alternately calling "Shark?" (as a question) and SharkWithAQuestionMark. It's the sound of a great Rock band raised on equal doses of Black Flag and The Beach Boys. I can't take credit for that wise observation — the singer/guitarist's ax had a Black Flag "four bars logo" sticker doctored to read "Beach Boys." I think. My eyes are shot. It could have said Bleck Flog. And I don't know who that is. Great songs, ’90s Indie guitars-meets-the-Ramones-grind-and-shine, all peppered with some great low-key humor. Deadpan Alley Indie Rock Punk Pop? Definitely a strong if fairly under-attended set at Cincinnati Club's basement venue. It was early.
Still, by this point, I'd been going for about four hours, catching a nice opening performance on the Washington Park stage by Bonesetters, whose music fits perfectly between Pomegranates and Andrew Bird — which works out great because they performed on the same lineup as Cincinnati's Poms and genuine "Indie Star" Andrew Bird. The Washington Park stage was one of the best aesthetically. The back drop of Music Hall right behind the big MPMF-trucked-in stage was majestic. The buildings and rich surroundings of Over-the-Rhine made the whole scene perfect — I especially dug the helix stage props hovering above the performers from the stage-top, which lit up as the sun dropped and provided a great visual with the giant glowing Music Hall art-glass window right behind it like the moon looking on in approval.
Bird drew a solid crow to the Washington Park field, some hypnotized by his unique and diverse sound — he had a band but sometimes it seemed like Bird was multi-tasking his brains out, playing violin, singing, playing with effects, hitting the xylophone, whistling like a Classically-trained bird, crooning all charming-like. It was lilting and mesmerizing at times, but there was also about 75% of the crowd that decided to talk throughout Bird's entire set. I guess it's somewhat fair — they were just multi-tasking, too. But this was slightly annoying because, although Bird's music rises to an Indie Pop strut at times, mostly his music is about spaciousness — sparse percussion, airy violin, ethereally noisy guitar cloud-bursts, pure Americana moments, those whistles and that swoony croon.
I got a great dose of classic "Indie Rock" from a pair of groups that were playing the local original music scene before "Indie Rock" ever entered our lexicon. Filament opened up festivities at MOTR Pub and sounded amazing — not just like the members hadn't stopped playing about 14 years ago (this was one of their first shows back), but like they hadn't stopped playing and got even tighter and better. The trio looked comfortable on stage together and mind-melded in their interplay. Sometimes certain people are just meant to play together. Looking forward to hearing more of Filament's angled, muscular, anxious Post Punk sound soon.
The great Fairmount Girls are 11 for 11 in MidPoint plays — the Cincy greats have played every MPMF. And every time I've seen them it's a highlight. The Fairmounts' sound is always such of colorful explosion of melodies and grooves (talk about two people meant to perform together — keyboardist Melissa Fairmount and drummer Dana Hamblen are the Everly Brothers of Indie Pop, their creative rapport seemingly so effortless and perfectly natural). Pat Hennessy (also of The Tigerlilies) and Randy Cheek (also of The Ready Stance) add greatly to the colorwheel, also giving the songs shadows and corners with their creative guitar parts (and, in Cheek's case, effected-out, Xmas-light-decorated trumpet backing).
At one point in my Thursday adventures, I started to drag and found myself feeling like I needed something "weird" to snap me out of it. Or some crack. Luckily, I opted to — at that very moment — walk into Below Zero where I was greeted with what appeared to be a giant table-cloth monster with lights, dancing as a giant mass towards me. I SWEAR I didn't choose option "crack."
Turned out to be the last few songs from The Terror Pigeon Dance Revolt. I spent last night and this morning trying to wrap my head around the whole experience of TPDR and the following performer, Canada's Richard Aucoin. I'm still not sure I can explain.
There are a few artists finding increased success in Electronic/Dance music circles (and, due to the power/entertainment value of the performance, with people beyond that scene as well) who are putting the "show" back in "Hey, let's go check out a show." TPDR and Aucoin, as well as Dan Deacon and Girl Talk to an extent, are the most interactive artists in music right now, not only erasing the line between audience and performer, but disintegrating it to the point where the audience is part of the performance and the performer is part of the audience.
Both TPDR and Aucoin performed amongst the audience at Below Zero, constantly encouraging everyone to participate, move closer, squeeze in, huddle up, jump, chant. Aucoin worked with — and actually interacted with — synched-up video that included some hilarious clips ("previews") and funny shout-outs to Cincinnati, some of the other participating artists, MidPoint and other weird, funny shit. Aucoin sang the Electro anthems (from the floor to the top of the bar) over driving programmed backing and a propulsive live drummer. It was like a strange performance art/comedy/film/dance party, with Andrew W.K's. energy and party-starting-abilities and Flaming Lips-like carnival action — made all the more amazing taking place in a pretty small club space (made smaller by his constant insistence that everyone mush in around him as tight as possible).
The audience was enthralled and sucked in. (The above photo by Jesse Fox and the reactions on the people's faces are the perfect description of the show.)
I got a little more "weird" next door at the Emery Theatre, the restored historic theater just off Central Parkwkay that is shaping up to be — along with Washington Park — a crown jewel venue and a perfect fit for MidPoint. Though familiar with their music, I wasn't sure what to expect from Dirty Projectors, but it was a truly unique performance of Beefheart-ian R&B Folk Jazz Pop … yeah, they're wonderfully hard to explain.The show was likewise. The Emery was packed for the Projectors's avant-garde outerspace jams, a glorious sight, the perfect site for it and a vision of the theater's promising future. (The National next week is even more must-see because it's at The Emery.)
The MidPoint Midway was fairly hopping once the sun went down. The Box Truck Carnival is fittingly bonkers this year. Trucks have been turned into an improv comedy club, magnet crafts station, old-school video game arcade and a Soul Train dance-off/silhouette peek-a-boo truck, which got funnier and drunker as the night went on. Check out those and the other trucks even if you don't have a ticket to the festival. There's also good food options (Washington Park had solid vendors as well) and a large stage that will feature "second play" surprise sets by artists playing elsewhere during the fest.
I ended my night perfectly, coming full circle and back to "The Rock." Turbo Fruits were firebombs of no bullshit Rock & Roll, intense and heavy, but also very melodic and engaging, especially on some of the off-the-path Psych Pop songs they slip into the grinding gears. Turbo Fruits were a reminder that Rock bands can put on a show — they were thoroughly entertaining without confetti canons and surper-groovy light shows. Not that there isn't place for both. And that place, apparently, is MidPoint.
Night 2, here we come.
Check out oodles of photos from Day 1 of MPMF.12 here.
It was a rockin' night, and also a weird one. In a good way. I caught great sets by some top-notch Rock & Roll bands, like the excellently named Shark? — which the singer/guitarist kept alternately calling "Shark?" (as a question) and SharkWithAQuestionMark. It's the sound of a great Rock band raised on equal doses of Black Flag and The Beach Boys. I can't take credit for that wise observation — the singer/guitarist's ax had a Black Flag "four bars logo" sticker doctored to read "Beach Boys." I think. My eyes are shot. It could have said Bleck Flog. And I don't know who that is. Great songs, ’90s Indie guitars-meets-the-Ramones-grind-and-shine, all peppered with some great low-key humor. Deadpan Alley Indie Rock Punk Pop? Definitely a strong if fairly under-attended set at Cincinnati Club's basement venue. It was early.
Still, by this point, I'd been going for about four hours, catching a nice opening performance on the Washington Park stage by Bonesetters, whose music fits perfectly between Pomegranates and Andrew Bird — which works out great because they performed on the same lineup as Cincinnati's Poms and genuine "Indie Star" Andrew Bird. The Washington Park stage was one of the best aesthetically. The back drop of Music Hall right behind the big MPMF-trucked-in stage was majestic. The buildings and rich surroundings of Over-the-Rhine made the whole scene perfect — I especially dug the helix stage props hovering above the performers from the stage-top, which lit up as the sun dropped and provided a great visual with the giant glowing Music Hall art-glass window right behind it like the moon looking on in approval.
Bird drew a solid crow to the Washington Park field, some hypnotized by his unique and diverse sound — he had a band but sometimes it seemed like Bird was multi-tasking his brains out, playing violin, singing, playing with effects, hitting the xylophone, whistling like a Classically-trained bird, crooning all charming-like. It was lilting and mesmerizing at times, but there was also about 75% of the crowd that decided to talk throughout Bird's entire set. I guess it's somewhat fair — they were just multi-tasking, too. But this was slightly annoying because, although Bird's music rises to an Indie Pop strut at times, mostly his music is about spaciousness — sparse percussion, airy violin, ethereally noisy guitar cloud-bursts, pure Americana moments, those whistles and that swoony croon.
I got a great dose of classic "Indie Rock" from a pair of groups that were playing the local original music scene before "Indie Rock" ever entered our lexicon. Filament opened up festivities at MOTR Pub and sounded amazing — not just like the members hadn't stopped playing about 14 years ago (this was one of their first shows back), but like they hadn't stopped playing and got even tighter and better. The trio looked comfortable on stage together and mind-melded in their interplay. Sometimes certain people are just meant to play together. Looking forward to hearing more of Filament's angled, muscular, anxious Post Punk sound soon.
The great Fairmount Girls are 11 for 11 in MidPoint plays — the Cincy greats have played every MPMF. And every time I've seen them it's a highlight. The Fairmounts' sound is always such of colorful explosion of melodies and grooves (talk about two people meant to perform together — keyboardist Melissa Fairmount and drummer Dana Hamblen are the Everly Brothers of Indie Pop, their creative rapport seemingly so effortless and perfectly natural). Pat Hennessy (also of The Tigerlilies) and Randy Cheek (also of The Ready Stance) add greatly to the colorwheel, also giving the songs shadows and corners with their creative guitar parts (and, in Cheek's case, effected-out, Xmas-light-decorated trumpet backing).
At one point in my Thursday adventures, I started to drag and found myself feeling like I needed something "weird" to snap me out of it. Or some crack. Luckily, I opted to — at that very moment — walk into Below Zero where I was greeted with what appeared to be a giant table-cloth monster with lights, dancing as a giant mass towards me. I SWEAR I didn't choose option "crack."
Turned out to be the last few songs from The Terror Pigeon Dance Revolt. I spent last night and this morning trying to wrap my head around the whole experience of TPDR and the following performer, Canada's Richard Aucoin. I'm still not sure I can explain.
There are a few artists finding increased success in Electronic/Dance music circles (and, due to the power/entertainment value of the performance, with people beyond that scene as well) who are putting the "show" back in "Hey, let's go check out a show." TPDR and Aucoin, as well as Dan Deacon and Girl Talk to an extent, are the most interactive artists in music right now, not only erasing the line between audience and performer, but disintegrating it to the point where the audience is part of the performance and the performer is part of the audience.
Both TPDR and Aucoin performed amongst the audience at Below Zero, constantly encouraging everyone to participate, move closer, squeeze in, huddle up, jump, chant. Aucoin worked with — and actually interacted with — synched-up video that included some hilarious clips ("previews") and funny shout-outs to Cincinnati, some of the other participating artists, MidPoint and other weird, funny shit. Aucoin sang the Electro anthems (from the floor to the top of the bar) over driving programmed backing and a propulsive live drummer. It was like a strange performance art/comedy/film/dance party, with Andrew W.K's. energy and party-starting-abilities and Flaming Lips-like carnival action — made all the more amazing taking place in a pretty small club space (made smaller by his constant insistence that everyone mush in around him as tight as possible).
The audience was enthralled and sucked in. (The above photo by Jesse Fox and the reactions on the people's faces are the perfect description of the show.)
I got a little more "weird" next door at the Emery Theatre, the restored historic theater just off Central Parkwkay that is shaping up to be — along with Washington Park — a crown jewel venue and a perfect fit for MidPoint. Though familiar with their music, I wasn't sure what to expect from Dirty Projectors, but it was a truly unique performance of Beefheart-ian R&B Folk Jazz Pop … yeah, they're wonderfully hard to explain.The show was likewise. The Emery was packed for the Projectors's avant-garde outerspace jams, a glorious sight, the perfect site for it and a vision of the theater's promising future. (The National next week is even more must-see because it's at The Emery.)
The MidPoint Midway was fairly hopping once the sun went down. The Box Truck Carnival is fittingly bonkers this year. Trucks have been turned into an improv comedy club, magnet crafts station, old-school video game arcade and a Soul Train dance-off/silhouette peek-a-boo truck, which got funnier and drunker as the night went on. Check out those and the other trucks even if you don't have a ticket to the festival. There's also good food options (Washington Park had solid vendors as well) and a large stage that will feature "second play" surprise sets by artists playing elsewhere during the fest.
I ended my night perfectly, coming full circle and back to "The Rock." Turbo Fruits were firebombs of no bullshit Rock & Roll, intense and heavy, but also very melodic and engaging, especially on some of the off-the-path Psych Pop songs they slip into the grinding gears. Turbo Fruits were a reminder that Rock bands can put on a show — they were thoroughly entertaining without confetti canons and surper-groovy light shows. Not that there isn't place for both. And that place, apparently, is MidPoint.
Night 2, here we come.
Check out oodles of photos from Day 1 of MPMF.12 here.
by Mike Breen
09.26.2012
LISTEN: Mitt Romney Made U a Mixtape
Give a listen to the likely songs our unlikely next president jamz out to
The PR folks working with covert comedic organization Team Coco sent over a press release this afternoon that also included "Mitt Romney's Fave Tunez," an Rdio-made, embed-ready playlist featuring the Mittster's favorite jamz.
Here's a snippet from the release:
go fuck yourselves find something productive to do for once.
UPDATED: The original post included a press release that was sent out unintentionally. The post has been corrected with the proper release quote.
Here's a snippet from the release:
During the heat of the current presidential election, you can always count on Team Coco to keep those LOLs and ROFLs alive and well. For its weekly Rdio mixtape, Team Coco has procured the perfect songs for a Mitt Romney playlist. Featuring tracks such as Money, Money, Money, Polygamy Blues, I Gotsta Get Paid and many more, this playlist is sure to get anyone’s Romney on.Enjoy! Well, most of you. Forty-seven % of you can
UPDATED: The original post included a press release that was sent out unintentionally. The post has been corrected with the proper release quote.
by Mike Breen
09.26.2012
Posted In: Live Music, Local Music, Festivals, Music News, Music Video at 01:23 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)
Daily MPMFers: Chain & the Gang, The Ridges and More
The MidPoint Music Festival 2012 countdown clock is turned off — it's tomorrow!
MidPoint News and Updates: Are you ready for some MidPoint! The MPMF.12 kick-off celebration takes place TONIGHT. The pre-party is in The Hanke Building on Main Street in Over-the-Rhine. Entrance is down Michael Bany Way, just across from the 12th and Main streets intersection. The party starts at 6 p.m. with a set of “MPMF mash-ups” by local DJ Ice Cold Tony. Always amazing local rockers 500 Miles to Memphis perform at 9 p.m. The kick-off shindig is free and open to everyone of drinking age (even if you think MPMF is “killing teh scene!”). There will also be free Vitaminwater and Eli’s BBQ; one lucky attendee will also go home with free VIP tickets to see The Afghan Whigs’ New Year’s Eve concert at Bogart’s.
Here's an early classic from 500 Miles to get your psyched:
The MidPoint Music Festival countdown is down to just one day. Yup, starts tomorrow. Here are our daily MidPoint Music Festival 2012 picks …
BIG SHOT
Chain and The Gang (Washington, DC)
Rock
Dinosaur Jr. (playing Friday on the Grammer's/Dewey's Pizza stage) isn’t the only MPMF band that was influencing today’s music-makers beginning in the ’80s. Ian Svenonius made his name with influential DC bands Nation of Ulysses and The Make-Up, wiry Punk Gospel group that he led with the possessed, wild-eyed intensity of a Southern Baptist preacher gene spliced with James Brown and Iggy Pop. His presentation of the “Gospel Yeh-Yeh” in clubs worldwide proved his reputation as one of Indie Rock’s greatest frontmen, night in and night out. Svenonius’ religious experience may never die; whenever a project ends, he simply finds new parishioners to help him spread the gospel and carry on.
You'll Dig It If You Dig: Nation of Ulysses, The Make-Up, Weird War. (Mike Breen)
Chain and the Gang performs Saturday at midnight at MOTR Pub. Here's a video for the band's "Certain Kinds of Trash":
SLEEPER PICK
The Ridges (Athens, OH)
Orchestral Indie Folk
This Athens, Ohio-based Orchestral Indie Folk troupe has built a solid following in Cincinnati thanks to repeated show dates in town, including providing highlights at a few past MidPoint Music Festivals. So they're not exactly a "sleeper" (because I've seen them and they're great), not exactly a "Local Lock" (though their ties to Cincinnati run deep) and merely on the verge of being Big Shots. Regardless, you won't be disappointed should you add them to your MPMF.12 itinerary. The Ridges — who perform in different configurations, depending on which members are available (including string and horn players) — are currently prepping a full-length album (recorded here in Cincinnati), so fans may even get a few new songs
Dig: Soulful, acoustic Folk Rock that builds into emotive orchestral swells. (MB)
The Ridges perform at Know Theatre on the Biore Strip at 10:30 p.m. Thursday. Here's a special video the band made just for the occasion, shot on a rooftop in OTR:
LOCAL LOCK PICK
The Grey Academy (Cincinnati, OH)
Indie Rock
Cincy singer/songwriter Josh Hill first came to attention with his band Ellison, which introduced the region to a songwriter with impeccable chops for someone so fresh to the local music scene. The band’s wonderfully crafted Pop/Rock started earning Hill attention both locally and beyond, but in the midst of it all, the songwriter began writing different, darker songs that reflected his changing listening habits, which veered into the still catchy yet less calculated sounds of bands like Bloc Party, Interpol and The Killers. Hill has shown that his skills weren’t limited to Ellison’s instantly hooky style; with The Grey Academy, he brings the same sensibilities to a less predictable, more moody brand of Rock.
Dig: Interpol, Smashing Pumpkins, Death Cab for Cutie. (MB)
The Grey Academy plays MidPoint Saturday, 8 p.m. at Main Event. Check out the band's "In Stride":
Click here for full MPMF details via the official MidPoint site.
by Mike Breen
09.25.2012
A National Dilemma?
Would you pay to see your favorite musicians if the money went to your least favorite politician?
What's your favorite musical group/artist of all time? Got it? Good.
Who are you voting for this upcoming election for President of the United States? Got it? Good.
Now let's say that favorite artist of yours was coming to Cincinnati to perform. Let's say it's a remarkably intimate show with limited tickets. And let's say you've got a friend who can get you a ticket to purchase. Let's say it's $35.
But here's the catch — your favorite group or solo artist is making their concert a fundraiser for the guy you REALLY don't want to be President.
Do you suck it up and pay the admission/donation for a chance to see a once-in-a-lifetime concert? Maybe make a bigger donation to your guy's campaign? Or do you refuse to do anything that may, in even the smallest way, affect the outcome of … well, possibly American history.
Cincinnati-bred/Brooklyn-based band The National has just announced a special last-minute pair of shows in Ohio next week, including a show at the revitalized Emery Theatre in Over-the-Rhine on Oct. 4 (they play the Newport Music Hall in Columbus on Oct. 3).
The concert — which comes a few weeks before the band headlines the Freedom to Love Now! marriage equality-supporting concert in New York City — is a benefit for "Gottavote: Ohio," President Barack Obama's campaign to get Ohioans registered and voting. The band will also reportedly play a private fundraising function in Cincinnati for Obama right after the Emery show.
Searching around for ticket info (details have yet to be announced; we'll update this post when they are), I came across the event's page at Last.fm, where an apparent big National fan left the post's sole comment: "Obama fundraiser...What a moral dilemma…"
As a hardcore lefty and big National fan, I personally have no dilemma in this situation, but I sympathize with the commenter. What if The National had a change of heart since last performing for Obama in Cincinnati (a huge, free outdoor show on Fountain Square with The Breeders in 2008) and the members were disillusioned by the President's first-term actions (or inaction), built up impressive balances in their bank accounts and decided the best way to protect America (and their money) was to go out and do whatever they could to get Mitt Romney elected. Would you still go?
"Shut up and sing" is an oft used saying for people who think politics and music have no business being in bed together. But if the artist shuts up and sings, but just so happens to give your admission fee to a politician you despise, what do you do?
Personally, I stay home and wait until the artist's next show. Luckily for me, deciding not to go to a Mitt Romney concert/benefit featuring Kid Rock, The Oak Ridge Boys and Hank Williams, Jr., is not a hard choice in the slightest.
by Mike Breen
09.24.2012
LOCAL LOCK PICK
The Perfect Children (Cincinnati, OH)
Garage Soul
The Perfect Children is a duo featuring guitarist/keyboardist/vocalist/songwriter Kristen Kreft (a musical theater veteran formerly of J. Dorsey Blues Revival) and drummer Adam Shelton (Barbury Coast, RX-2, Gordy Horn) sure to be blowing fuses and minds with Kreft’s gale force voice and the twosome’s versatile instrumental skills. From Peggy Lee Soul/Pop grooves to Etta James Blues moves, management cannot be responsible for dropped jaws.
Dig: A Garage duo with the Soul of Otis Redding, the cool of Etta James and Nina Simone and the Rock of Bo and Chuck. (Brian Baker)
The Perfect Children perform Friday at Japp's at 10:30 p.m. Click here to listen to their song "Tumblin' Down" and other MPMF tracks, courtesy of the Vitaminwater media player.
Click here for full MPMF details via the official MidPoint site.
Posted In: Local Music, Live Music, Music Video, Festivals, MidPoint Music Festival at 01:52 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)
Daily MPMFer: Freelance Whales, Leogun and More
The MidPoint Music Festival countdown clock reaches three days
The MidPoint Music Festival countdown is down to just 3 days, kicking off this Thursday. Here are our daily MidPoint Music Festival 2012 picks …
BIG SHOT
Freelance Whales (Queens, NY)
Baroque Indie Electro Pop
Frontman Judah Dadone founded Freelance Whales in 2008 and recorded much of the band's lauded, self-released debut album from late 2009, Weathervanes (reissued by Frenchkiss and Mom + Pop in 2010). The band not only scored a lot of fans based on the album, but also a ton of licensing (for a variety of films and TV shows). The band's consistent international touring, external exposure and word-of-mouth PR has built anticipation for its new album, Diluvia, to a fever pitch. The LP is set for an Oct. 9 release (MPMF serves as the opening date on the band's tour behind the record). Freelance Whales' mix of electronic sounds and Chamber Folk ideals has led them to be compared to everyone from The Postal Service to Sufjan Stevens.
You'll Dig It If You Dig: Sufjan Stevens making a Postal Service album; Postal Service making a Sufjan album. (Mike Breen)
Freelance Whales (their name, if you're wondering, was inspired by the huge amount of "freelancers" working in NYC) performs Saturday in Washington Park at 7 p.m. (taking the slot vacated by Sleigh Bells). Here's a new track from Diluvia, "Spitting Image."
SLEEPER PICK
Leogun (London, UK)
Rock & Roll
With “big breaks” today mostly coming in the form of internet exposure, London trio Leogun’s big-time entry into the music biz was decidedly old-fashioned. Singer/guitarist Tommy Smith snuck into an Eagles of Heavy Metal show in London and met an industry heavyweight who introduced him to Elton John’s Rocket Music Management. From there, the band became the first band signed to instrument-maker Yamaha’s new record label. Leogun went to Nashville to lay down some of their timeless, passionate Rock & Roll, the first results of which are set for an EP due Oct. 16 (a full-length is planned for 2013). Leogun’s transcendent take on vintage Blues-inspired Rock & Roll is strong enough to earn them one the “bands most likely to return soon for an arena show” awards from this year’s MPMF.
Dig: Wolfmother, Pearl Jam, Queens of the Stone Age. (MB)
Leogun performs at The Drinkery Saturday at 12:30 a.m. Here's the band's new single and video, "Let's Be Friends," which just premiered on MTV.com.
Get More:
Leogun, Let's Be Friends, Music, More Music Videos
LOCAL LOCK PICK
The Perfect Children (Cincinnati, OH)
Garage Soul
The Perfect Children is a duo featuring guitarist/keyboardist/vocalist/songwriter Kristen Kreft (a musical theater veteran formerly of J. Dorsey Blues Revival) and drummer Adam Shelton (Barbury Coast, RX-2, Gordy Horn) sure to be blowing fuses and minds with Kreft’s gale force voice and the twosome’s versatile instrumental skills. From Peggy Lee Soul/Pop grooves to Etta James Blues moves, management cannot be responsible for dropped jaws.
Dig: A Garage duo with the Soul of Otis Redding, the cool of Etta James and Nina Simone and the Rock of Bo and Chuck. (Brian Baker)
The Perfect Children perform Friday at Japp's at 10:30 p.m. Click here to listen to their song "Tumblin' Down" and other MPMF tracks, courtesy of the Vitaminwater media player.
Click here for full MPMF details via the official MidPoint site.
