• The first time I saw Neko Case was a complete accident. I was in Chicago around the most recent turn of the century and went to see Indie Rock singer/songwriter Edith Frost at the small (but popular) club Lounge Ax and Case and her “Boyfriends,” as her backing band was then called (really Canadian Roots rockers The Sadies), opened the show with a great set. Though I’d heard of Case, seeing her live was revelatory — the singer/songwriter (also part of Canadian Pop collective The New Pornographers) has one of the most soulful, mesmerizing voices in music today and, once I’d heard it, I was hooked for life. Case’s transcendent pipes are only comparable to legends like Patsy Cline (though Jenny Lewis has made quite the solo career aping Case).
Working in a folksy musical realm (though not tethered to any specific style), Case has yet to release a bad album, though her latest for Anti- Records, the recent The Worse Things Get, The Harder I Fight, The Harder I Fight, The More I Love You, has received mixed reviews (likely more indicative of a press corps bored with her astonishing consistency than the actual album itself, which is excellent). I’ve seen Case numerous times since that happy accident in Chicago — including dates at Chicago’s Metro and at Newport’s Southgate House — and I’ve never left in any other state besides “spellbound.”
Case comes back to the Cincinnati area tonight for a show at downtown’s Taft Theatre (her largest local appearance yet) with special guest and fellow red-headed singer/songwriter Karen Elson. Tickets are still available for $35 at the door.
Check out Jason Gargano's feature story on Case from this week's CityBeat. Here's the "lyric video" for The Worse Things Get track "Night Still Comes."
• Over the past two decades, Built to Spill has become a legendary cult band, remaining a solid concert draw across the nation and releasing some of the most brilliant guitar-driven Indie Rock albums of the ’90s and ’00s. Led by singer/guitarist Doug Martsch, BtS formed in Boise, Idaho, in the early ’90s, and worked with a lot of Pacific Northwest musical institutions on its way up. In 1995, as the major labels were winding down their signing frenzy in the wake of Nirvana's huge success (signing seemingly every band even loosely associated with the words "Seattle" or "Grunge"), Built to Spill inked with Warner Brothers Records, which has released six stellar albums by the band since 1997, including the crew's masterful debut for the label, Perfect From Now On, and 2009's There is No Enemy, the group's most recent album.
Like label mates The Flaming Lips, BtS has been the rare band that has sold consistently enough to remain signed to a major label for well over a decade thanks to the consistent quality of its work, heavy touring and an incredibly dedicated following. It's refreshing to see a big-time label stay so loyal to a group that will probably never sell a million copies and even more probably won't ever have a big hit single. (Despite rumors, BtS is not breaking up; a new album is in the works and expected by the end of 2014.)
Built to Spill performs tonight at Newport, Ky.'s Southgate House Revival with guests Slam Dunk and Genders. Showtime is 8:30 p.m. and tickets are $25 at the door.
• Originating in Michigan and now based in the Pacific Northwest, Punk Rock trio The Spits pattern "their own new-millennial take on Punk after heroes like NOFX and The Ramones, but also tapping into the ‘70s Synth Wave dissonance that distinguished bands like Wire and Spizzenergi and presenting a theatrical component as engaging as Devo in their prime," according to CityBeat's Brian Baker. Read Brian's preview here then head to Mayday in Northside tonight for the 9 p.m. show. Admission is $10 and Useless Eaters and Subsets open.
Here's the band rocking San Francisco this spring.
• The annual Bosom Ball presented by local Pop radio station Q102 returns to Covington's Madison Theater tonight. The event, a benefit for the American Cancer Society and the Susan G. Komen Foundation, this year features ZZ Ward, Labrinth, American Authors, Serena Ryder and Walk Off the Earth. Doors open at 6 p.m. (there is also an all-ages "Sound Check Party" with American Authors that runs 4-5 p.m.; the Bosom Ball is open to ages 21 and up only). Admission is $30. Click here for more info and check out a few of the performers below.
• The Jubilee Peace Fest celebrates its fifth anniversary this year, returning to the Grailville Retreat and Organic Farm in Loveland, Ohio, starting today and going through Sunday. The fest — which runs 6 a.m.-10 p.m. each day — features “yoga workshops, meditation practices, cooking classes, health and fitness seminars, spiritual activism … kirtan and more, with national (and) internationally known teachers, musicians, authors, artists and chefs unfolding the path to world peace,” according to the official event page on Facebook. The festival is organized in conjunction with the non-profit World Peace Earth, whose mission is “educating, encouraging, researching and promoting a loving lifestyle to create a virtuous, kind, gentle, respectful and spiritual relationship between all beings and the earth, contributing to world peace.”
You’d be forgiven for thinking the musical lineup is all soft New Age music but, while that is represented, the Peace Fest boasts a surprisingly eclectic collection of performers, playing everything from Hip Hop and Rock to Experimental and World music. Sticman of one of best contemporary Hip Hop groups around, Dead Prez, is one of the big names performing, joining acts like Canadian “Neo-Folk World Rock ‘Country & Eastern’ Fusion” troupe HuDost, Rock band ThePeace, popular Hip Hop collaborator (and organic gardening proponent) DJ Cavem and Cincinnati native Amy Ferguson. Visit jubileepeacefest.com for a full rundown of the fest’s offerings and here for ticketing info.
DJ Cavem's Healthy Hop:
• The international Red Bull Thre3Style DJ competition returns to the area this week with a slight twist. Tonight at downtown nightclub Play, five DJs from area colleges will compete as part of the Thre3Style U competition, which is open to only full-time college student DJs. The competing turntablists are University of Cincinnati’s DJ HD and DJ EFEX, Northern Kentucky University’s DJ Underground, University of Dayton’s DJ Web and Miami University’s DJ Gabe C. Former Red Bull Thre3Style victor Apryl Reign and Kiss 107 FM’s DJ Sab are among the judges. The event is free and kicks off at 10 p.m. (Note: Play has some pretty strict dress restrictions.)
• Bogart's in Corryville presents a night of Electronic Dance music, headed up by Boulder, Colorado's Big Gigantic, the duo of Dominic Lalli and Jeremy Salken, who've built a huge following with their unique "Livetronica" stylings. New Zealand native (now based in Australia) and funky DJ up-and-comer Opiuo opens the show at 9 p.m.
The local music scene lost one of its veteran players this past weekend. Larry Malott — also a veteran of the Vietnam War — suffered a brain aneurysm last Wednesday from which he never recovered.
A gifted bassist, Malott (who was 65) was the low-end anchor of hard-working, popular local Blues band Them Bones. Along with regular gigs with the group around town (and beyond — the band has toured in Europe and represented Cincinnati at 2010's International Blues Challenge in Memphis, Tenn., placing an impressive third overall), Malott and Them Bones were also the anchor of the long-running Sunday night Blues jams at Newport club, Mansion Hill Tavern, hosting the weekly event since 2001. Many local musicians gathered this past Sunday at the open jam to pay their respects to Malott. Judging by the outpouring of grief and appreciation on social media the past few days, Malott was not only a great bass player and dedicated Blues supporter, he was also something of a mentor to other local musicians and incredibly supportive of his fellow artists.
Visit Malott's Facebook page to leave a message for his family and for info on upcoming funeral services (a public tribute appears to also be in the works). His family is asking that, in lieu of flowers, supporters make a donation to their favorite charity and/or one of the following ones — Sophie's Angel Run, Cincinnati Shriners Burns Hospital, Down Syndrome Association and/or Blues in the Schools.
Great Cincinnati-based experimental Jazz/Hip Hop group IsWhat?! is gearing up for another one of its frequent European touring jaunts, but before the group leaves, the members will be presenting a night of film, art, poetry and, of course, music, this Friday at The Greenwich in Walnut Hills, all curated by and/or affiliated with IsWhat?! in some way.
The animated short film Billie’s Blues, created by French artist Louis Jean Gorry and scored by IsWhat?! frontman Napoleon Maddox, will get its U.S. premiere at the event. Here's the trailer:
Here's IsWhat!?'s music video for "Hands Up Quick" (featuring a guest verse from Boogie Bang) off of the group's most recent release, Things That Go Bump in the Dark.
The CincyPunk Fest got its start in 2003, organized as an offshoot of Adam Rosing’s CincyPunk website. Since then, Rosing and the festival have raised tens of thousands of dollars for area charities and presented an increasingly eclectic lineup for its increasingly large audience.
The festival returns tonight and tomorrow, utilizing the three stages at the Southgate House Revival in Newport, Ky., and featuring 35 performers, many from the Greater Cincinnati area, but also some top-notch national acts, like Diarrhea Planet and Pissed Jeans.
After a decade, it probably doesn’t need to be repeated, but just to reiterate – Cincy Punk Fest is not a Punk Rock festival. The lineup includes everything from Indie Rock to Americana/Folk to Soul to straight-up Rock & Roll, with a handful of acts you could legitimately label as Punk. It reminds me of the CBGB's "Punk" movement of the ’70s, when bands like Television, The Ramones, Talking Heads and Blondie were all lumped together under the genre tag, though they really couldn't have been more different, sonically. Like fest performers Frontier Folk Nebraska (who are neither Folk nor from Nebraska), CincyPunk Festival (which also isn’t in Cincy) has established itself and doesn't appear to be in any hurry to change its name to reflect the increasingly diverse lineups. Which is kinda Punk, so it all works out.
Tickets to CincyPunk Fest XII are $15 per night; advanced tickets are available here and here. The proceeds this year are being donated to the Save Our Shelter Dogs Rescue in Northern Kentucky. Music starts at 8 p.m. both nights. The event is open to fans 18 and up.
Below are Friday and Saturday's lineups:
And here are a few clips that give a good sense of the variety that can be found at the festival.
This is the midpoint of MidPoint, the second of the three holy days of September. A day of great adventure and great potential for misadventure that exceeds the anticipation of Day 1 and the inevitable denouement of Day 3. A day to love. But first you've got to get there, and an even longer drive down I-75 this afternoon meant that I was forced to miss Izzy & the Catastrophics (Note: Izzy and Co. rescheduled and play today at 6:15 p.m. on the Midway AND at Japp's at 12:30 a.m.) on the Midway and on the Midway and American Royalty at Washington Park. And my teeth are considerably flatter. Tomorrow I take my chances with the surface roads.
First up on the agenda was the third band on my Friday schedule, my beloved Black Owls at the Grammer's stage. With their brilliantly hallucinatory film projection playing out on the tent ceiling just above their heads, the band clicking with shambling precision and frontman David Butler in the middle of a 10-day cleanse (Five days without beer? Madness, I tell you, madness...), the Owls roared through a set that offered plenty of familiar favorites and a couple of brand new tunes slated for their imminent fourth album, Wild Children, the first to feature input from the full quintet.
As per usual, the chiming guitars of Ed Shuttleworth and Brandon Losacker offered glammy tribute to the gods Hunter and Ronson, while the intuitive headkick of rhythm section Sammy Wulfeck and Brian Kitzmiller ran like clockwork, if the clock in question is Big Ben. And David Butler continues to serve as vocalist/ringmaster, a perpetually compelling stage presence combining witty banter ("We're your Black Owls, supported by your tax dollars..."), kicky athleticism and a vocal presentation that thrillingly suggests Ian Hunter's mournful croon, David Byrne's artful warble and the jittery wonder of Jerry Casale. The only thing better than seeing the Black
Owls is seeing them again. They will be returning to the Northside Tavern in December; give yourself the gift of the Black Owls this holiday season, won't you?
I hung around and talked with the various Owls and their various lovely wives while Secret Colours provided a pulsing Psych/Space Rock-meets-Classic Rock soundtrack. Flecks of The Doors and Velvet Underground filtered through kaleidoscopic blotter tabs of the Brian Jonestown Massacre and The Dandy Warhols turned up to a Spinal Tappish and completely satisfying 11; that's the stock-in-trade of Secret Colours. A lot of the subtlety of their sophomore album Peach gets shaved off in their live presentation (although the melodica was a nice touch), but the band ably replaces it with a muscular and voluminous vibe that reverberates in your chest like a second heart.
From there, it was a brisk walk down to The Drinkery to catch The Kickaways who were using their MidPoint show to officially launch their sophomore album, Show Yr Teeth. It's an appropriate title since that's exactly what the band does on their latest effort, amplifying and refining all the elements that defined their 2011 debut, America! America! Although frontman Charlie Lynn played some guitar on Show Yr Teeth, he made the conscious decision to set it aside in The Kickaways' live configuration. That boils the band down to their charismatic lead vocalist and a tight-as-a-gnat's-ass power trio, a formula that worked pretty well for The Who, Led Zeppelin, Queen and Black Sabbath.
Last night, it was the latter that seemed the most potent reference point, as The Kickaways seemed to be channeling Ozzy and the boys circa Paranoid but with the swaggering ethic of a great Psych-tinged garage band. Up front, Lynn was garage glamor personified, with leather jacket, a plaid shirt tied like a skirt at his waist and several layers of T-shirts, the top one reading "It Girl." No longer pinned down by guitar duty, Lynn was a singing dervish, occasionally banging a tambourine but generally flying around the stage and howling with mad but precise abandon. Guitarist/vocalist Remi Glistovski largely kept his head down and focused on producing riffs of Richter Scale proportions while Jacob Ittle inhabited his role as bassist with the mindset of a rhythm guitarist and drummer Adam Lambchop literally moved the air with his punishing skills, banging his kit with the authority of a skinny John Bonham. The Kickaways are more than ready for their Big Time close-up.
I reluctantly bailed on the end of the Kickaways' set to head up to the MOTR Pub to bask in the Pop/Rock splendor of Cincinnati's Tigerlilies. Pat Hennessy has been working this corner since forming the band in 1989 and while the band has gone through a few guitar partners (renowned and beloved oddball William Weber, former Lazy guitarist Steve Schmoll, guitarist-turned-producer Denny Brown) and several tweaks to his Power Pop concept, the Tigerlilies' core has always remained Hennessy on vocals and guitar up front and the durable rhythm section of brother Steve Hennessy on hammering drums and Brian Driscoll on thundering bass. Hennessy's latest guitar foil may well be the best in a long line of great six-stringers; Brendan Bogosian has an impeccable resume (TheWoos, Cash Flagg, Kry Kids, among others) and his razor-sharp skills and Pop/Rock nuance make him perfectly sympatico for Hennessy's punky take on crunchy Power Pop. Tigerlilies' just-released In the Dark may well stand as the best work in their excellent catalog, and this version of the band is clearly the reason as evidenced by the wall of sound emanating from the MOTR stage last night.
From there, it was a long walk down to Arnold's for the ecstatic blister of Cincinnati's Heavy Hinges. The band may have started out last year channeling the spirit of old Gospel 78s and Alan Lomax field recordings but they have graduated to an electric church service that pumps like an oil derrick with a swing sweeter than Ted Williams. It's Blues with a touch of Jazz with a heart needle full of adrenaline. Guitarists Dylan Speeg and Jeremy Singer can go from textured nuance to hot Jazz/Blues riffmongering in the blink of an eye, frontwoman Maya Banatwala works a lyric with the dramatic/comedic flair of a 21st century flapper (and bangs that ukulele like Betty Van Halen) and the slippery rhythm section of bassist Andrew Laudeman and drummer Brian Williamson establishes the ever shifting heartbeat of the band with intuitive brilliance.
In the Hinges' hands, "Ain't No Grave" sounded like it had been arranged by Carlos Santana, but it's the band's originals that stick in the mind and danced-off-ass the longest; "Mean Old City" offered up the band's patented thump-and-grind and "In My Dreams" showed their flair for electric Flamenco or something just like it. Banatwala noted that she doesn't celebrate Christmas, so MidPoint is her Christmas (Merry MidPoint, Maya!), and Speeg was at his cheeky best between songs ("The women in here tonight look like they were picked by Lenny Kravitz …"). If there's a more accomplished and diverse band in Cincinnati than Heavy Hinges, it's a safe bet that they're not half as entertaining. I could be wrong or drunk or both, but I don't think so.
And then it was midnight and time for my overall MidPoint pick, The Technicolors from beautiful Phoenix, Arizona, an area not necessarily known for its music scene. I had picked them to preview on a whim and listening to the music they I could find online absolutely floored me. In the preview blurb I namechecked Cheap Trick, Big Star, The Kinks, Led Zeppelin, Oasis, Todd Rundgren, Kula Shaker and Nada Surf. I stand behind any and all of that, but after witnessing their live assault, I can honestly say that it all comes together as The Technicolors, which now seems like a perfectly apt name.
In the studio, The Technicolors are formidable alchemists, transforming their influences into buzzing, crunching gold that becomes more appealing with each successive listen. On stage, the band taps into that primal sense of elation that occurs in the earliest moments of teenage discovery, when music is new and the vistas of what to explore next seem limitless. The Technicolors possess the aforementioned sonic reference points to be sure, but what they evoke as a band funneling all those sounds into their astonishing singularity is a return to that viscerally magic moment in personal history when one loses one's cherry to music.
Last night at the uberfabulous MOTR Pub, The Technicolors were a force of nature, the furies of Rock unbound. The twin guitar attack of frontman Brennan Smiley and Mikey Farizza were like David Copperfield's giant buzzsaws; potentially dangerous but ultimately entertaining. Bassist Mike "Nico" Nicolette looked as though he was having more fun than the audience as he joyfully bottomed the sound with a sinewy and insistent pulse, which was further anchored by drummer Kevin Prociw's purposeful bashathon. And tour keyboardist Troi Lownei (he appears on a couple of songs on the band's exquisite album Listener) added a dash of Radioheadness to the proceedings (if Radiohead had jumper cables attached to their undercarriages).
Their studio version of Chris Isaak's "Wicked Game" supplants the original's icy cool detachment with a passionate embrace but in the live arena, the band plays up the sense of impending doom inherent in the "I don't want to fall in love" theme. And "Sweet Time" may simply be one of the best live translations of an already powerful song that I've been lucky enough to witness in four bloody decades of standing in front of bands.
Are The Technicolors the future of Rock and Roll? I wouldn't hang that albatross on any band, particularly one I love. The Technicolors will make you feel things about Rock that you haven't felt for a very long time, and that should be more than enough to recommend them.
• As Black Owls frontman David Butler was explaining his cleanse — his wife Amy is supporting by joining him — which features 10 beerless days, he noted that he's never felt better and his voice has never been stronger. Goose frontman Jason Arbenz aptly observed, "He's going to turn himself into some kind of superhero." I think he may already be there, dude.
• It was great catching up with the Owls and the Mrs. Owls (Amy Butler, Carrie Losacker and Sarah Kitzmiller). The ubiquitous King Slice, the barometer of all that is cool, was in attendance as was former CityBeat worker bee Sara Beiting, a pretty decent hipness indicator her own bad self. And Mark Houk from Sohio confessed to chills during the new Black Owls song, "Gasoline." I predict that's going to be going around soon, my friend.
• As I walked into The Drinkery, I was met by the whole of Alone at 3AM. They weren't hanging out in a bunch like The Monkees, they were getting ready for their imminent set after The Kickaways. Chris Mueller put a Yuengling in my empty hand and filled my empty head with joy. Brandon Losacker appeared to be handing me a beer during The Kickaways set but he quickly disabused me of that notion; it was meant as a toast. Note to everyone: if you look like you're handing me a beer, I'm going to look like I'm accepting it. Brandon did drop a shot of Jameson's in front of me, which will earn him a plaque upgrade in the Hophead Hall of Fame.
• On my way down to Mr. Hanton's (who now has a brick and morter store on Calhoun) to get a wonderful and nutritious Handwich (which is a hot dog as big as a Cuban cigar … I recommend the Smokehouse), I vaguely thought I heard someone yell my name, but I've been hearing voices lately and they seem to know me, so I gave it the same attention I reserve for car horns in parking lots which now go off for no other reason than someone locking their door. Luckily the hailing party was not part of my drug-fueled hallucinogenic past but the flesh-and-blood person of Ready Stance guitarist/vocalist Wes Pence. We vowed to meet at the Tigerlilies gig and did. Another way I knew he was real. I'm fairly sure.
• Also taking in the vast Power Pop beauty of Tigerlilies (and while I have the internet's attention, no, you overbearing suggestion Google dicks, I do not mean Tiger Lilies, I mean what I fucking well typed) were damn near all of Culture Queer — Jeremy Lesniak, who produced Tigerlilies' In the Dark, Dana Hamblen and Sam Womelsdorf, Fairmount Girls' Melissa Fairmount, the aforementioned Wes Pence and a couple of guys who remembered me from my Short Vine days in the late '80s — except they thought I was Jimmy Davidson. I told them I worked the counter at Wizard Records, but I don't think they believed me. I could have badly played any guitar in the joint to prove my identity, but it was just nice to be remembered.
• Sara Beiting was also hanging at Tigerlilies, along with perpetual MPMF and raconteur Jay Metz, who brought along Shuggie Otis' brother and drummer, Nick Otis. We had a brief but nice chat, got some pictures together and bid adieu. Shuggie had already left for a gig in Toronto, but Nick and some of the band stuck around to catch some MidPoint sounds before a 5 a.m. flight. Yargh. Hope they made it on time this morning.
• Brian Kitzmiller and his lovely wife Sarah also dropped in on the Tigerlilies. Brian actually bought me a beer but I didn't catch up with him until I was on the sidewalk outside the MOTR and was on my way down to the next thing. Sorry I stuck you with two beers, dude. I'm pretty sure you took care of it. While I was apologizing for making Brian appear to be a two-fisted alcoholic, Sarah pointed out a guy dressed in what seemed to be tin foil Post-It notes, which may have been advertising or just an odd fashion choice. If you'll recall from this space an almost unbelievable five years, Sarah, a first grade teacher, went to Staples to buy Post-It notes and actually had some stuck in her hair. Brian had told me the story, and the next night at Arnold's, I met Sarah for the first time. When Brian introduced us, I excused myself, reached into my pack, pulled out a handful of Post-Its, stuck them in my hair and shook her hand. So Post-Its are kind of our thing. And I was glad she pointed out the tin foil Post-It guy, because I saw him as I walked out the door but I chose to ignore it, just in case it was another alcohol fueled flashback to the acid days of yesteryear. As long as she saw it too, it was all good.
• Right on cue, King Slice strolled into the Heavy Hinges gig and anointed it as the cool place to be at 11 p.m. on MidPoint's second night. And so it came to pass. Also making an appearance right before I was ready to hit the sidewalk was former Buckra guitarist and ever-present MPMF staffer Jacob Heintz, checking out his old bandmates and hanging around waiting for the next emergency, which I hope never came. It never seems like a complete MidPoint experience until I've had a chat with Jacob, so now it is.
• Plenty of folks in attendance at the Technicolors soiree back up at the MOTR, which I hope I had at least a little something to do with. My pal Paul Roberts was there to buy me a fabulous beer from the MOTR's endless taps, with his buds Big Jim and Little Stu in tow. Stu even had a hat made with his name on it so I'd bloody well remember that his name is Stu. If he had said, "My name is Stu, how do you do?" that might have been perfect. The hat was pretty awesome at any rate. If I forget Stu now, it will be evidence of drug backlash or a stroke. Just so you know.
• I spied former CityBeat editor John Fox in the MOTR crowd so I headed over to say hello. As I have explained in the past, I owe John an incredible debt of gratitude for recruiting me for CityBeat nearly 20 years ago and for insisting that I write features for him rather than reviews. It was literally a life-changing conversation, and I can't begin to thank him enough for the opportunity he gave me in the beginning and his faith and guidance in the subsequent years. Once again, he left before I could get that beer into his hand … I'm clearly going to have to drive the truck up to his house. The only thing is I don't know where he lives; his faith in me, it would seem, had limits, which I completely understand. Thanks again for everything, John, you gave me a chance to be a part of something special. My current status as a poverty-wracked, free-beer-swilling hack is all on me.
• I tried to get down to the Mainstay in time to see some of Bella Clava's set because their appearance at The Drinkery last year was one of the festival's highlights for me. Sadly, they had just finished when I pulled up, but I did get a chance to chat with keyboardist Caitlin Dacey and guitarist Steve Suttie as they loaded out. As it turned out, the band is staying with Honeyspiders frontman Jeremy Harrison, whose new outfit also played on the evening's Mainstay bill. Honeyspiders is clearly a band to keep on the radar; the limited recordings they've shared to date are potent evidence that something big is going on there
Last night was a glorious night for music and glorious music was made. Combinations don't get much better than that. Things didn't start so well, though; a quick e-mail on Wednesday revealed that, for a variety of reasons, my friend Matthew Fenton wouldn't be making his annual pilgrimage from Chicago to our fair festival. And then the drive down I-75 was infuriatingly stop-and-go for no apparent reason, which had me grinding my teeth all the way downtown.
Every molecule of that dour energy was dissipated with the first show of the night as Cody ChesnuTT hit the Washington Park stage like a hydrogen bomb of positive vibration.
ChesnuTT's MidPoint appearance was also his Cincinnati debut and the sizable crowd that showed up to witness it was completely enthralled with his potent blend of Neo Soul, Reggae, Jazz and Pop.
ChesnuTT doesn't dress the part of Soul crooner; graphic T-shirt covered in cassettes, red cardigan, black sweats and an army helmet. The helmet is an odd sartorial choice, but ChesnuTT has explained that he's "fighting to keep the soul alive." Not the musical genre, but the spiritual essence at the center of all human beings. That's a pretty big mission for a singer/songwriter to assign himself, but last night's performance proved that ChesnuTT is more than up to the task.
Drawing strictly from last year's gorgeous Landing on a Hundred (he no longer does any songs from 2002's The Headphone Masterpiece, feeling that he's moved beyond the events in his life that inspired that album), ChesnuTT blew any trace of negativity into the stratosphere and replaced it with a rock-solid groove (courtesy of his absolutely stellar band) and a message of pure love. Not Barry White let's-ease-them-panties-down love, but love of self, love of mankind, love of life, which should ultimately lead to unconditional love for one other person.
Not that ChesnuTT doesn't recognize the world's dysfunction. In his brilliant "Everybody's Brother," he sings, "I used to smoke crack back in the day/I used to gamble rent money and lose/I used to dog nice ladies, used to swindle friends/But now I'm teaching kids in Sunday school and I'm not turning back." On the album, the song thumps along on a hearty Funk beat, but on stage, ChesnuTT delivers that opening verse with a sermon-like intonation, and the band swells around him with Gospel fervor and Soul intensity.
No matter what vibe ChesnuTT is channeling at any particular point in the show, he is a master showman, imploring the audience to join him, engaging them to become an integral part of the proceedings. And when he sings, when he digs deep into his creative core and unleashes his soul though his vocal cords, sweet mother of all that's holy, he sounds like the reincarnation of Marvin Gaye, the little brother that Stevie Wonder didn't know he had and the lost Marley sibling all rolled into one otherworldly package. Anyone who was not smiling at the end of Cody ChesnuTT's performance last night is damaged beyond the help of therapy and psychoactive drugs. Please come back to see us again soon, Cody. If Foxygen's slot is still open, Saturday night would be just fine. (Editor’s note: Cincy’s fantastic Wussy has claimed Foxygen’s Washington Park slot tomorrow.)
After Cody ChesnuTT's splendorous opening, it was Blues/Rock legend Shuggie Otis' turn to lead the Washington Park congregation, which he did in scorching style. Otis was barely in his teens when he started playing guitar with his father, R&B icon Johnny Otis, ultimately leading to session work with Al Kooper and Frank Zappa when he was just 16, and his 1970 debut solo album, Here Comes Shuggie Otis, at 17. And while Shuggie has laid low for long stretches in his nearly 50-year career, his current resurgence is sweet vindication for those periods when an indifferent music industry ignored his virtuosic brilliance, forcing Shuggie to turn away from the industry.
Shuggie's set started a little hesitantly as he acclimated to the stage set-up; at one point, he jokingly asked, "Can somebody show me how to work this shit?" Somebody did and he was off, peeling off incendiary riffs and razor sharp runs with a casual intensity. The set's sole slow spot was a new song called "Special," that sounded like Shuggie copying the numerous Pop artists who have copied him, but he followed it with a blazing version of "Me and My Woman" that erupted from the stage like a volcano and oozed through the assembled multitude with the heat and inevitability of the resultant lava flow. Once he and his stellar band got going, Shuggie Otis provided a transcendent moment in MidPoint history, the redemptive return of an astonishing talent that should never have gone away in the first place.
Only one thing could have dragged me away from the hair-raising, slack-jawed wonder of Shuggie Otis, and that's the triumphant return of Cincinnati’s Mad Anthony. Since the July van accident that could have been the band's literal epitaph, drummer Marc Sherlock was restrained by a neck brace and an order against all relatively physical activity. Outside of a little rhythmic tapping to keep his chops up, Sherlock was virtually drumless for three months, while guitarists Ringo Jones and Adam Flaig hit the road for some acoustic dates to keep the rent money coming, then set off for its first cross-country tour, which culminated with last night’s homecoming.
And so Mad Anthony took the triangular stage at The Drinkery, their first show with their full current lineup since the accident that nearly cost them everything. Jones and Flaig brought plenty of their patented frenzy to their acoustic gigs, but they've clearly missed their hypertalented timekeeper, which was evident from the visceral fury that permeated every note of last night's show. Sherlock couldn't have looked any happier; with every roll, every cymbal crash, every massive kick, his smile was a permanent fixture, and Jones and Flaig responded with a tumultuous joy that was a palpable presence in the room.
At a normal Mad Anthony show, the trio storms into an audience's frontal lobe with incomprehensible power. If The Stooges ate Black Sabbath and shit out three perfectly formed babies the next day that grew up and absorbed Punk, Pop and Rock influences like a bar towel, then wrung out those influences into shot glasses and downed them one liquor/beer/sweat/adrenaline slug, that would be Mad Anthony. Last night's return to The Drinkery was all that amplified to the third power. Naturally, they finished with "We Love This Fucking City." Naturally, this fucking city loves Mad Anthony. It's worked out so far.
After the major nut-kick of Mad Anthony, I tooled down to Arnold's to catch some Beatlesque sweetness courtesy of Canada’s The Shilohs. They were really quite good, and I definitely wanted to hear more of them, but they seemed intent on a mid-tempo set in the key of "If I Fell," and I wasn't quite in the mood for that. So I headed back to The Drinkery to catch locals Frontier Folk Nebraska's set.
After Mad Anthony's blistering presentation, I chatted up Kelly Thomas for a few minutes outside The Drinkery, and she had noted that Frontier Folk Nebraska was veering in a decidedly more electric direction, rather a shift from their traditional acoustic roots. When The Shilos didn't pan out for me, I decided to witness FFN's electric evolution for myself. Good decision.
The new FFN is plugged in and ready to whip any ass in the house. Imagine a world where The Ass Ponys channel Crazy Horse and the Bottle Rockets and Uncle Tupelo and you'll be close to the barely restrained muscle emanating from the new Frontier Folk Nebraska. All of this was evident on the band's eponymous 2011 album, but it's magnified to an incredible scale in the live setting. FFN recently lost founding bassist Steve Oder to a graduate program, which could have seriously altered the band's chemistry, but new bassist Matthew McCormick seems to have settled in nicely, alternating between a pulsing beat and runs that emulate lead solos, forming a slinky rhythm section with drummer Nathan Wagner. Meanwhile, frontman Michael Hensley and Travis Talbert create a tandem guitar attack that perfectly balances nuance and power. I liked where FFN was and I love where they are.
After FFN, I found my car and took a drive down to the Mainstay to catch London's blazing Rock power trio Leogun. Vocalist/guitarist Tommy Smith is a revelation, a genetic hybrid of Robert Plant and Jimmy Page in one electrified body, wringing sounds from his guitar that invoke all the greatest '70s translators of the Blues while maintaining a firm stance in the 21st century. Anchored by the thunderous rhythm section of bassist Matt Johnson and drummer Mike Lloyd, as slippery and as solid as Entwistle and Moon, Leogun swaggers and swings with retro inspiration and contemporary energy. They peeled through a set filled with tracks from their phenomenal debut, By the Reins, but one of the highlights was their completely unexpected and timber-rattling take on Kool and the Gang's "Jungle Boogie." Not sure when they'll be back, but I'll be there when they return.
• Music editor Mike Breen informed me that publisher Dan Bockrath was going to be making with the beers this year, but I had no idea he would begin his hop blitzkrieg so quickly and voluminously. Dan found me in the crowd at the start of Cody ChesnuTT's set and put a beer in my hand immediately. And just as I finished that first one, Dan reappeared at my side with yet another, claiming, "I feel so good I had to double down." After this MidPoint, I may be able to build a new wing onto the Beer Buying Hall of Fame with Dan's empties alone. You are a god that walks among men, Dan Bockrath, and I hope to see you every night this weekend.
• During Cody's lovely and moving "Love is More Than a Wedding Day," he announced that it might be a good time to dance with the one you love. I looked at Dan, Dan looked at me, but we dismissed the idea. It is a testament to Cody's soulful presentation that I actually considered it, though.
• Years ago, my good buddy Troy paid me the ultimate compliment when he spotted me at a show. He clapped me on the shoulder and said, "I know I'm at the right show when you're at it." The very same could be said for the ubiquitous King Slice. His appearance at a show is like the Good Housekeeping Seal of Approval. Follow him and see where he goes next. That's where the party will likely be the best.
• Also ran into Magnolia Mountain's Mark Utley, who's in the teeth of planning the next Music for the Mountains benefit show. The second MFTM disc is chock full of traditional goodness and the album and the concert will raise funds to help eliminate the mining practice of mountaintop removal. As Mark noted, "Nature gives women the ability to forget about the pain of childbirth so they'll ready to do it again. That's how it was for me with this concert." The pain is always worth it, man (says the guy who's not feeling the pain) … good luck and God speed.
• And on my way out of Shuggie Otis, I chanced upon Jim Blase, co-owner of Shake It Records and quite simply one of the finest human beings I've had the pleasure to and good fortune to know.
• Lots of folks turned out for Mad Anthony's return, including Kelly Thomas, who was an architect of two benefit shows to help the boys get back on their feet (and who is actually collaborating with the band on some new songs, which should be awesome). Also in attendance was former MA bassist Dave Markey, and his ebullient mom, who may have been the biggest fan in the room; I'm pretty sure she knew the words to every song. It was a beautiful thing.
• Jim Blase was also hanging out at the Frontier Folk Nebraska show, obviously showing support for Travis, who still puts in some time behind the Shake It counter. I was about to head over to say hello again but ran into old friend Danny Rupe, who I never get to see anymore except at random and all to infrequent MidPoint shows. He put my digits and e-mail add into his Jetsons phone, so maybe I'll hear from him with a little more timeliness now.
• Slice, The Black Owls' Brandon Losacker, Dave Markey and Ringo Jones were all hanging at the Leogun extravaganza. I was looking for my Class X compatriot Eddy Mullet, who had designs on the show, but I didn't see him so his plans must have changed. God, I hope it wasn't a kidney stone; that's what derailed his Bunbury experience. After the show, I had a quick chat with Tommy and Matt from the band as they were packing up to go, and then Ringo and I closed the Mainstay, as he regaled me with tales of Mad Anthony, and promises that their new material is the best they've ever done. I know they'll prove it when the time comes.
The winners of the "Best New Artist" trophy at the most recent Cincinnati Entertainment Awards, DAAP Girls, will celebrate the debut of their new music video tonight at Japp's Annex on Main Street in Over-the-Rhine.
The spooky, visually arresting clip is for "Molly," one of the many great tracks off of the band's debut album, Tape Songs (every song has a girl's name). Shot at the Kenneweg Compound in Alexandria, Ky., "Molly" was directed by local visual artist Philip LaVelle, alongside graphic designer Josh Jacob and videographer Sean Steininger. The video is mesmerizing and matches up with the lurching, dreamy swagger of the song perfectly. It's fairly low-budget, but doesn't look it, with it's creatively captivating effects and overall vibe.
DAAP Girls guitarist/singer Stuart MacKenzie provided this synopsis of the video:
"The video tells a story of five young people on the cusp of adulthood enjoying a last weekend together. (Unbeknown) to them, they are being viewed by the ghosts of their future's past. The video incorporates aspects of romance, nostalgia and magical realism to tell an alternate, complimentary story to the song."
Tonight's new video celebration at Japp's kicks off at 9 p.m. with a DAAP Girls performance, followed by the screening of the clip at 10 p.m. The band will perform after the screening as well.
Here's a sneak peek of "Molly," followed by the video's creative credits:
Directed by Philip LaVelle
Filmed by Sean Steinger and Josh Jacob
Edited by Sean Steinger, Josh Jacob and Philip LaVelle
Special effects by Josh Jacob
Casting by Erica Turer
Catering by Joe Diedenhofer
Filmmed on location at Kenneweg Compound, Alexandria, KY
Special thanks to Josh and Stephanie Kenneweg
Cast: Cody Reinhard Amir Gamble, Zachary Müller, Sarah Davenport, Rosie Carpenter, Emma Roberts, and Allison Gathof
DAAP Girls is: Jay Duckworth, Stuart MacKenzie, Daniel Peterson, Alex Duckworth, Michael Felger, Collin Thompson, Brian Gilronan.