Drive By Truckers
Brownies
12/13/01
Drive By Truckers are the band I’m happiest to have discovered last year. I got all OCD on the them and have been playing the hell out of their stuff to anybody that will sit on my couch. This was the third time the Truckers have been through town in a three month period and they were as good as ever. They had a new guitarist this time around who played some pretty ridiculous slide and showed no sign of being the new guy. Patterson seemed pleased, grinning like an idiot when he wasn’t soliciting whiskey from the crowd. That grin has undoubtedly gotten him in a lot of beds and out of a lot of trouble. It was infectious too, as there was a whole lot of grinning and hollering the whole time. There’s still 11 months left in the tour, so get off your ass and see the South Rock Opera when they come through next.

Slobberbone
Mercury Lounge
&
Figgs
Knitting Factory
12/15/01
This was an old shoe kind of evening. The Figgs and Slobberbone always seem to play in town around the holiday season. Much like Santa, it’s always a pleasure to see them. This little trip seemed more like a "let’s get some cash for the holidays" tour for Slobberbone, as their most recent record Everything You Thought Was Right Was Wrong Today came out over a year ago, but they kicked ass regardless of their motivations. Not too much from the older records, but they were preaching to the converted anyway. It was Saturday, everybody was in high spirits, or at least high and drinking spirits and hollering, so I’d give Team Slobberbone a thumbs up for their efforts. Buy all their records. It being the holidays and all, it seemed prudent to take in some Figg-y pudding, plus the Figgs were playing a late show at Knitting Factory, so off I went. You may be aware that the Figgs are the best rock band in New York City. Were you not aware of that fact and were you to have been at the Knitting Factory that night, you would have been all too aware of that fact upon your departure. The boys rock and have a new EP called Badger on HearBox. That gift gives all year long. See them and buy the damn record already.

Get Up Kids
Alkaline Trio
Irving Plaza
12/16/01
There would have to be a hell of an event going on to prevent me from going to see the Get Up Kids play with the Alkaline Trio almost anywhere. Luckily, it was here in town, plus it was a benefit, so it was for a good cause to boot. Of course I always felt that seeing the rock was part of one’s civic duty anyway, but whatever. This wasn’t really a showcase for any new material, nor were either of the bands playing their best shows, but it was a pretty damn good time. Matt Skiba of the Alkaline Trio said some nice things about September 11 and Rich Egan of Vagrant, simultaneously being socially conscious and putting some positive spin doctoring on the fact that the Trio were going to drop Vagrant like a hot rock. Funny how when your manager runs the label you don’t always find out the truth right away about how the money’s flowing. They seemed to have worked it out, but I don’t think it’ll be the last time that we’ll hear that story from a Vagrant band. They played a nice set, but they’ve rocked harder.

Get Up Kids have moved fairly consistently in a Weezer-y direction in the last couple records. I, of course, blame the keyboards, but you’ve heard that story before. Vagrant is really stroking these kids. Yes Rich Egan is their manager, too. They’ve got Scott Litt producing their new record, continuing the stroking of Matt Pryor’s Paul Westerberg infatuation. I think that’ll be an expensive waste of time, but the next logical step in getting Vagrant the Weezer they so sorely desire. The upcoming record is also being billed as the "mature" record for them. Judging by the songs I heard, the songs will be decent, but over-written and arranged ala the expensive producer treatment. The older songs were good, but all in all, they’ve played better shows. Not that I won’t see both of these bands again, or buy their new records, but hopefully they’ll be a little more spirited when they come through again.

Radio 4
Brownies
12/23/01
Radio 4 just get better and better. They’ve released a full-length and EP in the last year or so, both of which are absolutely stellar, and have been pretty ubiquitous around town, opening for Social Distortion at Irving and playing with a million bands at Brownies. This show was with an expanded five-piece lineup, adding percussion and keyboards. It made for a crowded stage, and an even more crowded room. Normally, adding more people to a good thing never helps much, but nobody got in each other’s way. The added keys and hand drums kicked things into a Sandanista kind of feel, but if you pull it off without being horribly derivative, which Radio 4 do, you’re cooking with gas. No wasted words or riffs, just the Burma/Wire/Clash vibe that you’ve come to expect from the Radio 4 franchise. No encores either. Kudos to Radio 4 for truly keeping it real in the New York scene.

Denali
Brownies
1/5/02
I like Jade Tree records. They have old school credibility and seem to truly care about the independent music scene. It seems like that they are always putting out records by great bands. Now if I was a guy who ran a record label in this day and age, I’d be a fool not to sign Denali, as they are undoubtedly going to sign to a major label and make a big splash in the next year or so. The good news is that they can play: the singer is a beautiful woman, and they have that Radiohead/Jeff Buckley meets Fiona Apple vibe that people eat up with a spoon. The bad news, at least to me, is that they didn’t write any of the songs and I’m so very, very over the whole howling sensitive singer thing. The Denali canon is written by the singer from sensitive Richmond post-rockers Engine Down, who I also find kind of ponderous. Said singer is the brother of Denali’s singer, so blame him. Not my cup of tea, and frankly I hate tea, but a lot of people don’t and those people will probably love Denali. Good for them.

John Langford
Pete’s Candy Store
1/6/02
Jon Langford is a busy fucking guy. He’s in the Mekons and the Waco Brothers, is a prolific painter, and plays solo a ton for various reasons, both financial and for a myriad of causes. No wonder I want to be like him when I grow up. I have vowed to make it out to Colonial Williamsburg more this year and this was the first foray in 2002. Of course it was rainy and shitty out, but we made it out to Pete’s without incident and with the aid of a rubber raft. This was the third show in as many days and early to boot, so you might expect that Mr. Langford was a little, shall we say, road weary. With fellow Waco Bros. Steve Goulding and Alan Partridge in tow, this was sort of a hung-over Waco Brothers lite matinee, featuring Sally Timms and Mekons tunes, so songs by the Brothers Waco and the odd cover or two. A good time, despite the fact that Pete’s is not the best place in the world to see a show. Not the worst return to hanging in Brooklyn.

Edison Woods
Galapagos
1/10/02
Going to Galapagos was foray number two into fun in Colonial Williamsburg. Like it’s neighbors at North Six, it’s a great space, plus isolated enough not to irritate the neighbors. While the crowd at Galapagos makes me regret being so derisive of the kids at the Knit, the Edison Woods were a pleasure. It’s always a slippery slope when you’re going to see a friend’s band, but this was a pleasant surprise. Like fellow Brooklynites Ida, Edison Woods are a quiet band. There’s no jumping around, no banter, no rock and roll pomp and circumstance. This is music you have to pay attention to. Simple songs are draped with strings and harmonium, with the vocals fading in and out like the moon through clouds. It’s also refreshing to see a band that is so charmingly unassuming, to the point where they hadn’t even planned for an encore. Genuine bands are hard to find in this day in age, in Brooklyn more so, so check out Edison Woods.

Mink Lungs
Brownies
1/11/02
It’s kind of an exciting time to like the rock in New York City. The success of the exceedingly shitty Strokes and their retarded cousins Moldy Peaches has people talking about the New York scene again. If America has any sense whatsoever, they’ll take to the Mink Lungs like it was Temptation Isle. This is what the Pixies were like before they went supernova. Picture one great guitarist, combined with another who brings a frightening new meaning to the word talented and plays sound bites in the down times, paired with a great rhythm section. Everybody sings. Once you know that, accept the fact that you aren’t even close to understanding how amazing the Mink Lungs are live. They literally do not have a bad song. I could do without the theatrics, but rather than dressing up in stupid costumes to disguise the fact that they have no songs (or talent), they use such drama to accentuate the songs. Novel, huh! Some bands should take notes. It won’t be long until you can’t see the Mink Lungs in places as small as Brownies. Go see them immediately and say that you were into them way back when.

Countdown Quartet
Rodeo Bar
1/12/02
I’m going to SpittleFest in North Carolina this year instead of Noise Pop in San Francisco. I made that decision a month or so ago, despite the fact that none of these festivals can come up with a schedule until a day before the damn festival starts. Irregardless of knowing who the hell I’ll be seeing, it’ll be a nice change of pace, plus the words San Francisco and quality barbecue are rarely uttered in the same breath. Nuff said. My breath should be heavy with beer and barbecue during my stay, and if the Countdown Quartet are any indication of what I’ll be taking in at Spittlefest, I should be sated musically as well. Despite their North Carolina roots, these boys have a heavy New Orleans vibe to them, adding trumpet and trombone to their Southern funk with pretty tasty results. The regulars seemed to really enjoy them, plus there was a pretty huge posse of Raleigh ex-pats, so I expect that this won’t be the last time we’ll be seeing these Southerners up at Rodeo. If you like some ass-shaking goodness, go on over to Rodeo and count it down with these kids.

Spottiswoode and His Enemies
Knitting Factory
1/14/02
It’s no real shock that you can classify a New York band by the places they play in town. Operating under those criteria, Spottiswoode and his Enemies are a dyed-in-the-wool Knitting Factory band. While that’s said with the utmost respect, it comes with the requisite caveat that despite the Knit’s pedigree, a lot of the bands there are just as boring as any other you’d see around town, only with better musicians and sillier, more foppish hangers-on. I’ve spent a good amount of time at the Knit, but had never been all the way downstairs to the Old Office. Frankly, I wasn’t all that optimistic when I saw the unmistakable sight of a bunch of poets at the bar. You know the type, arguing far too loudly over (and sometimes even more horribly -- in) verse so that people can ask "are you a poet?". Interesting technique, but you don’t see me bringing my bass to shows that I’m not playing. Poets are all well and good, but by and large, I don’t want them at my shows. Spottiswoode is the singer and frontman of the Enemies and he seems pretty talented, although cut from the distinctive bolt of cloth that clothed Mssrs Cohen, Waits and Cave in years past. Despite the fairly unoriginal roots, the Enemies are a great backing band, which helps when your singer decides to do new songs that the band has literally never heard before. The Enemies handled it all with aplomb when they weren’t providing Tindersticks-esque backing noir. Spottiswoode are talented, artistic and poetic, they just aren’t all that remarkable, but if you’re a Knit kind of person, maybe this will rock your world.

S.P.I.T.T.L.E FEST
The Brewery
Raleigh, North Carolina
1/25-26/02
My parents raised me right. My Dad’s an old school country fan and my Mom’s kind of a folkie, plus they made we watch a lot of Sha Na Na in my younger years. As a result, even at my punk-est, I still would get down with some Bob Wills and Faron Young. Yet another spiritual link between me and Alain Jourgensen.

I still read No Depression and keep up with the alt-Country end of things, but nothing has bitten me in the ass recently to get me back in the loop. Then I got into the Drive By Truckers and my appetite was whetted.

As luck would have it, one of my best friends was on my case to go down to his old stomping grounds in Raleigh for all you can eat barbecue and twelve bands in two nights. Seems like as good as any for a weekend out of town.

Another bit of luck put us in the household of a young lady who was as firmly entrenched in the middle of the scene as one could possibly be. We touched down, cracked some beers and hit the ground running. As you might surmise by its name, the Brewery serves beer, and at prices that will make the average New Yorker’s liver weep. While it may have skewed my perception somewhat, there were no beer googles when it came to the bands. There’s a hell of a scene down there, with the Backsliders and Whiskeytown having tenured notoriously there before their untimely demises. Luckily, there are no shortage of bands poised to take the spotlight in their absence. Hobart Willis and the Back Forty opened up the proceedings with a bunch of rocked up country and set the stage for a whole lot of pomade and sideburns for the next couple of hours. They, the Poonhounds and Hooverville have set the stage for a whole lot of well-deserved hangovers in their day. Friday night was no exception. Luckily the prodigious amount of pig products soaked up the hooch pretty well and put us in for the long haul. The Olympic Ass Kicking Team represented for America and gave erstwhile New Yorker and Yayhoo member Terry Anderson a chance to go for the gold with his elite unit. Not too shabby, even if Terry didn’t do Battleship Chains. The Vibe Killers took the baton next and ran with it and despite their lack of presence on the Olympic Team, they kicked ass all over the damn joint, due in no small part to the jackhammer rhythm section anchored by one Skillet Gilmore. Not bad at all, except for Thad Cockrell, as his more mid-tempo headlining slot was a little bit of a letdown after the raucous bands that came previously. That’s not to say his songs aren’t great, Cockrell’s got a little of the smooth Big Sandy baritone and is one hell of a crooner in the Bakersfield school of things, but after all the paeans to poon and hooch previously, it was hard to focus on more Catholic matters. Could have been the beer and the cute girls. Former Whiskeytown frontwoman Caithlin Cary upped the ante somewhat and stepped in to sing on a couple numbers that I believe will be on one of Thad or Caithlin’s upcoming releases and know were pretty great. The gentle comedown was a good thing in retrospect, as we had started the liquor drink portion of our segment and that was something best not unnecessarily prolonged. Off to Waffle House and then to bed.

Night two started as the previous night had: a little pizza, a little beer and then off to the races. Not that Friday night wasn’t a good time, but Saturday night was a real ass-kicker. The Drunk Stuntmen opened up the evening with about a hundred guys onstage that were no stranger to a Union job or a bit of libation. Kind of Bottle Rockets, kind of Skynyrd, all good. I wouldn’t want any of them to date my sister, but they set things off proper. Next up was Lou Ford, who got my pick for Best In Show. You may remember a little band from Tennessee called the V-Roys, whose first record Just Add Ice was one of the best rock records of the last ten years. The Lou Ford boys have too, but there’s no blind imitation here, they rock pretty decisively their own damn selves. And why haven’t these boys come up North? Great songs, great harmonies, not too much shtick. You can’t ask for much for than that. Go out and buy both their records immediately. Now Southern Line were pretty good, but pulling off an acoustic Bluegrass set is pretty tough enough without it being the middle of a beer-soaked twang fest. There were some ex-Backsliders and Jolene kids in their ranks, and they were pretty talented, but at that point I was pretty beer and girl-o-centric and not about the comedown. The gents that comprise Patty Hurst Shifter were not about that either. Them boys came out swinging hard, even more so in light of the fact that they had one of those librarians in their ranks. Good twangy rock in the V-Roys and Replacements end of things done by handsome guys who I bet I would like a lot less if I had to compete for girls with them. Big Dixie might not have been as handsome, but they had the crowd in the palm of their hands and a bombshell of a dancer to sweeten the pot. Cue a spike in beer sales at the bar, as these boys make you want to have a drink and grab a girl. Luckily enough I was not unsuccessful in that endeavor. And speaking of hot, the Two Dollar Pistols are as hot as their namesakes. The bar had been raised higher and higher all night for quality sets and those Pistols brought it home for Dixie. They played both types of music: country and western, to a crowd that wolfed it down like the free barbecue. Not sure who the singer is, but the poster I stole on the way out did have a heart drawn around his sideburned mug, so they were making friends and fans their whole damn set. As a jaded New Yorker, I forget about the Southern hospitality. If you’ve not experienced it, get off your Strokes-loving ass and get down to Raleigh and swap some S.P.I.T. You can’t be disappointed.

Breeders
Bowery Ballroom
2/8/02
In this day and age, going to see the Breeders is more than a little bit of a crap shoot. They haven’t had a new record out in forever, the sisters Deal are the only people in America that haven’t gotten the memo about getting your drugs via FedEx, and it’s pretty widely know that Kelly Deal has no musical (save singing) aptitude whatsoever. You can expect my surprise when they were pretty fucking great. They have the men of Fear (yeah, that Fear) backing them up and it’s one of the best combinations since weed and ice cream. Now that’s not to say that Kelly doesn’t look kinda silly playing the opening riff to each song, then standing around drinking Mountain Dew and chain smoking for the rest of it, but there are worse gigs to have, plus she sings like an angel. Hey, if it works for Vinnie Stigma, why not our girl Kelly? And it’s not like they just played the hits, they played at least a half-dozen songs that I had never heard before that were just as good, if not better, than anything on Last Splash. God love rehab! If the sisters Deal play their cards right, they could catapult themselves right back in to the spotlight and have a hell of a year. Here’s hoping.