M. Ward @ Apollo Theatre w/ pics

February 19, 2009


Bad news first; M. Ward seemed only marginally enthusiastic for his quick, first ever show at the esteemed Apollo Theatre and was beset with sound problems all night. The good news; Zooey Deschanel was nowhere to be seen. Thus, any She & Him songs would be less lionized, if M. Ward even felt the need to go there. Which he did, briefly, with “Never Had Nobody Like You”.

In general, M. Ward’s hazy country-infused vocals were equal parts sentimentality and robustness--rustling and gliding over a gently strummed chord (“Lulllabye & Exile”) or guttural and assertive (“Vincent O’Brien”). His band, when summoned, perfectly paralleled his dynamic shifts and expressive gestures, sounding heavy and hard or light and soft depending on the song. Each time their balance and touch was superb.

Tech problems showed up during Ward’s most delicate portion of the set (of course). During “Oh Lonesome Me” and the solo “One Hundred Million Years”, crackling cables plagued the bubbly flow of his guitar’s twang. Though he tried to overpower the obvious sound issues, even his forceful yet deft finger-picking blues could not defy the jolting crunches of misconnected mic cable.

Time, and audio problems, practically paused for “Post War”, as everything seemed to melt into the song’s gentle shuffle and Ward’s exposed baritone. We believed him when he sang, “I know when everything feels wrong”.

Maybe cause something was. Not that I could pinpoint its cause, but my +1 and I seemed to narrow it down to the incessant technical errors and an overly belligerent crowd—one that would not let Ward’s tranquil indie-folk rock be and kept demanding requests. Just let the man’s fragile muse work!

This made the set anxious and rushed, clocking in at just over an hour.

On the other hand, the pacing of his set didn’t of come as a shocker. An animated windowpane, projected onto the black backdrop behind the band, gradually progressed from dusk to starry night to dawn, an explicit indicator of where the night was going and when it would end. Conversely, it did give the impression of being included in some sort of late-night jam session with Ward.

Ward was at his best when loudest. The Daniel Johnston cover “To Go Home” (which included hollering Vivian Girls, the opener), “Big Boat”, and encore “Roll Over Beethoven”--during which he summoned his inner Little Richard to play some Chuck Berry--all had an air of indifference and movement that made them potently rock ‘n’ roll.

Ben Kweller and the Watson Twins @ Town Hall w/ pics

February 25, 2009


The Watson Twins and Ben Kweller. Both equal parts Nashville and hipster. Both singers and songwriters of heavy harmonies and simplified melodies. But only Kweller, however, came away from Town Hall Wednesday night with a commanding and energetic performance, aided towards the end by a dancing infant.

Starting off with poor sound didn’t help the Watson Twins. What sounded muddled with overwhelming bass drones in the balcony sounded more balanced in the orchestra. But the twins’ vocals got lost in the shuddering bass.

During “Only You”, keyboard played the high-pitched guitar strums that appear during each chorus. But it failed to emulate the electric guitar’s other quavering and haunting holds. Instead a nylon-string guitar was innocuously thrummed. This same guitar didn’t suffice for their popular “How Am I to Be”—during which they suggested shoulder dipping as a substitute for actually dancing; be careful what you wish for.

All this begs the question: where was the strikingly bright guitar that provides such a pivotal counterweight to the twins’ soaring harmonies?

They floated through the Bill Withers standard “Ain’t No Sunshine”, but as people they’re too sanguine to seem heartbroken or lonely. (Maybe because they always have each other around?) In general their vocals were soft and beautiful, but too light. They exuded no energy in their 45 minutes, leaving behind a pretty banal set.

In contrast, BK showed up to play his heart out. He prompted the light tech to turn up the houselights so he could size up his excitable crowd and then pursued a relentless setlist covering all the bases. Charging through old favorites like “Walk On Me” and “Falling” Kweller was urbane and sincere, his voice easily seizing the hall’s wide space.

Buttery smooth, his band (drums, bass, pedal-steel guitar) infused Kweller’s country roots into his indie lyricism and punk ethos to form a powerful and cohesive musical synthesis. Whenever BK added throwback vocables to a verse it pointed to a past era of pop.

While Kweller sampled material from his latest fare, Changing Horses, its lead track (“Gypsy Rose”) was surprisingly the best song of the night simply because of its delicate balance and Kweller’s sonorous tenor praising love as the saving grace.

His new song “Fight” was a stellar showcase of his band’s three-part chops and unleashed an unshakable melody during the encore.

I found the ending a little awkward, though, as everyone in the crowd decided to get up and dance for the last three minutes of the show. I couldn’t stop thinking, why didn’t they just get up and dance the entire show? Was the setting too intimidating? Too reserved? But what really stole the show was Kweller’s toddler son, Dorian, upstage, rocking out to his daddy’s big finale at the end.

Toad the Wet Sprocket @ Webster Hall w/ pics

February 26, 2009


That Toad the Wet Sprocket ended their show Thursday night singing, “Just memories to hold/ That grow sweeter each season/ As we slowly grow old” was fitting given the circumstances. They’re playing yet another reunion tour and the nostalgia of early 90’s alternative pop stardom lingered closely, both for them and their fans. Front man Glen Phillips is the only member with a compelling or successful solo career. But it also wasn’t the catalyst for their seminal break up so hitting the road with Toad—as they’re affectionately referred to—was for pleasure, not business.

Webster Hall—which underwent a “renovation” recently, meaning converting its ambiguously ancient Egypt/Aztec theme into an ambiguously ancient Rome/Medieval theme—was relatively packed with only 35 year-olds. One could still feel the pumping bass of remixes playing in the basement bar. But as this was a trip down memory lane, including trying to reenact past make-out sessions and substance abuses, nothing could deter them.

It also made me consider a notion I once heard that musical tastes are cemented by age 25. Looking around me it seemed perfectly true.

Finally taking the stage, the band made a few quips about it being great to see everyone “again” and launched into “P.S.”, a song with steady strumming with a beat to match. Supposedly one of the band’s first compositions ever (1986?), it was an appropriate nod to their history together and the first of many during their set.

Classics like “Something’s Always Wrong” and “Whatever I Fear” wallowed in the flannel-cloaked angst of their 90’s heyday, but the mood was memorializing. Guitarist Todd Nichols’ guitar echoed a brilliant reverb through his Vox, and in tandem with Phillips’ acoustic guitar reproduced their prototypical guitar-drenched sound.

Before “Butterflies” Phillips asked, “who knows the hidden spoken words on Butterflies?” A worthy winner was chosen, Karen, who then got to go perform the song onstage with the band. Though undoubtedly excited, she played it super cool.

“Good Intentions” received some of the loudest cheers during the night, to the point that the show could have been mistaken for a “Friends” cast party.

Phillips complimented how beautifully the crowd aged, then proceeded to mock the very same thing, offering up their mandolin and lap steel player Johnny Hawthorn for parties, weddings, and bar mitzvahs—and dates added bass player Dean Dinning. The band’s self-deprecating handling of its reunion played well with the equally aging crowd, leaving a night of reminiscing and old-fashioned alternative rock.












And the winner is...Karen!