Bob Duvet Gets Exclusive Access To Kreayshawn @ SOBE's Mansion: "One BIg Club Full Of Mediocre Bitches..." PLUS! A Fistful Of Furries...AND! Much Anticpated Matchup Between Dolphins And Radiers Goes To The Dolphins...

Light em' up! Kreayshawn surrounded by HYPE! photo..HFC

Bob Duvet took his blogging Dog & Pony show on the road to Miami Beach this past Friday night. Armed with nothing but a "banana sling", Axe body spray, and a soon to be maxed out credit card, he descended on South Beach to support the Yeah Area's own, Kreayshawn. First off, BIG UPS to the fine folks at Exclusive Access/EAN5's and Thaddeus McAdams for hooking me and the Mrs. up with two FREE passes to one of SOBEs HOTTEST clubs, Mansion. I highly suggest you go and check out both Exclusive Access' and Mansion's websites because in both cases, "a picture says a 1,000 words..." Mansion is undeniably, like Miami, a one of a kind playground, with an AMAZING sound system. Friday night's DJs AFFECT and EFX knew how to get the most out of it - playing a SLAMMIN' mix of hip-hop backed by some hard-hitting house music. The accompanying light show, dance floor replete with stripper poles and manned by some of the FINEST dancers to work said poles, and a provocative coupling of two furries in the middle of the VIP, set the stage for Kreayshawn's Miami Beach debut. Kreayshawn is riding a hype wave generated by the viral success of her video for the song "Gucci, Gucci". The young rapper/video director/budding fashion icon/SWAG -generator/Twitter feed-a-holic and rumored to be a signee to a multi-million dollar record deal with Columbia, was in Miami to play a set as part of Mansion's "We Rock Hip-Hop" event. Yours truly, while a veteran of many club shows, admittedly, is not as well-versed in the nuances of Da Club shows, so the expected set time of 1am came and went without so much as a fist pump from the clubbers in the direction of the performer and her crew gathered in the VIP to the right of the stage.

One VIP full of bad bitches...photo by HFC

Kreayshawn, V-Nasty, various dopplegangers and attendant crew happily texted away and snapped camera phones pics of each other flipping the bird. SWAG. This went on for close to 90 minutes with the DJ revving up the crowd only to have someone whisper in his ear that there were still Tweets to deliver and birds to be flipped. This was a bit of a disappointment to the faithful gathered in front just outside the VIP's hazy Valhalla. Kreayshawn's army were ready and awaiting their MOBBIN' orders! Bartenders and dancers alike were festooned in over-sized, black-rimmed eyeware and Edie Sedgwick eye makeup, in contrast to all the, "Gucci Gucci, Louie Louie, Fendi Fendi, Prada..." toting "basic bitches".  We were ready for the Bay Area to represent and blanket Miami Beach in SWAG fog. We waited and no one seemed to care one way or the other. Just one BIG room full of bad bitches and the men who love them. By the time Kreayshawn and crew hit the stage (and by crew I mean anyone who happened to be remotely connected to her entourage) at 2:45am any good will and hype that I felt going in was squandered. Maybe I don't quite understand the idea of partying with your friends, just out of reach but in full view of your fans, is supposed to endear me further to a performer. It all felt just a little douchey, for lack of a better word. I'm told it was V-Nasty's birthday, which might explain why the DJ prior to Kreayshawn's set seemed preoccupied with asking, "WHOSE BIRTHDAY IS IT UP N HER'?!?!" Regardless, I would have thought KILLIN' one of the top club spots in the country/world would have been a higher priority for both Kreayshawn and V-Nasty. Instead, those that were anxious to see what all the fuss was about got treated to a two song set of "Bumpin' Bumpin" and "Gucci Gucci".

"Bumpin, Bumpin" with somethin somethin...photo by HFC

That's right, two songs...six minutes. Kreayshwan was no match for the sound system or Grey Goose being passed around prior to her taking the stage. Both rappers affected the same indistinguishable tone - somewhere between a whine and a thugged-out cadence delivered under the effect of helium. There was little energy in the performance and no attempt at puttin' the smack down on SOBE. It felt a lot like watching Kreayshawn's hometown Oakland Raider fans all decked out in make-up and ghoulish costumes menacing for the television cameras, while the team on the field limps to a 4-12 finish. Earlier in the day my wife and I coincidentally ran into the diminutive rapper at a pizza place on Lincoln Road. She was sweet and seemed excited to be in Miami for the first time. I wish that enthusiasm made its way onto the stage at Mansion.  I had seen Kreayshawn in August at San Francisco's Slim's where she delivered a high octane and focused 35 minute set. She hit the stage with energy, purpose, and tons of her signature SWAG! Where was that girl in Miami Beach?

Do Kids Still Play Cowboy and Indian? Well, These Kids Do!...WAIT, HOW ABOUT! Just Enough Chiefs And Just Enough Indians!...NOT CONVINCED? THEN TRY THIS ONE! Cowboy And Indian Not Likely To Fade Under The Glare Of Friday Night Lights!!

Cowboy and Indian inspiring a rain dance onstage at this year's ACL Festival...photo by RLC

The winners of this year's Austin City Limits Music Festival, in addition to music lovers, were the bands and artists calling Austin, Texas home. Over the course of the week I saw some amazing examples of why Austin considers itself the "live music capital of the world". Whether it was the ramshackle glory of the Hickoids second annual ACL alternate the Austin Corn Lovers Fiesta or any number of bands blasting out of bar fronts on the legendary 6th Street, there was a wide array of music on display. Perhaps, no better band crystalized the city's diversity and eclectic reputation than the seven-piece collective headquartered in Austin know as Cowboy and Indian. The band has only been around for a year and a half and is already making waves on both coasts, generating buzz and interest from record labels and recruiting followers via the "tribal" quality of their live shows.

Indians Daniel James & Jazz Mills...photo by RLC

The core of singer/guitarist Daniel James (also of Bay Area favorites Leopold and His Fiction), singer Jazz Mills, and singer/guitarist/banjo player Jesse Plemons (who some might recognize from television's critically acclaimed Friday Night Lights) , tweak Americana music by giving it a spirit that feels fresh and unique. The band grew out of a songwriting partnership struck between Plemons and James, bringing Mills in to complete their vision.

Cowboy Jesse Plemons...photo by RLC

With their mid day set in blistering heat, Cowboy and Indian helped cool things off with songs that recall country while injecting enough rock to have the crowd in attendance dancing. They even managed to conjure a little rain by the end of their forty-five minute set. Songs spanned from the haunting "Bali Hai", to the rollicking choogle of "Ledbellies (Hurt My Pride)" and the just plain RAWKING of "Hand Me Down". Even more impressive was Mills who is seven months pregnant delivering an arresting performance in the extreme heat. I was able to sit down with James for an interview on the most recent "What Duvet Said...About Music" Issue 35 HERE. He details the bands inception, growth, and future in the twenty minute conversation that mixes in plenty of music from both of his bands, in addition to helping curate they show's playlist. Below are two videos the band has released in support of their EP. The band is scheduled to have their first full-length release come out sometime in 2012 on a label TBD.

Additional Indians, sisters, Phoebe (back) & Stephanie Hunt...photo by RLC

The lovely and soon to be mother Jazz Mils...photo by RLC

Daniel James of Cowboy and Indian/Leopold and His Fiction...photo by RLC

The full tribe in all their glory...photo by RLC

The Black Angels & Sleepy Sun Live At San Francisco's Slim's Has Them Dropping Like Flies...Or, Brown Acid Makes A Comeback! MORE OR, Hydras, Phosphene, And Shamen OH MY!

Black Angels Ascending & Waiting To Take The Stage At Slim's

Friday San Francisco's Slim's played host to a sold-out mini "West Coast Psyche Fest", as Austin's, The Black Angels, were in town in behind last year's epic release, Phosphene Dream. The mighty Texans were supported by SF's own titans or "trip-RAWK" Sleepy Sun, for a show that blew minds and the doors of the SOMA club. While San Francisco may be viewed as the Mecca of the garage-psyche scene, anyone in the know, knows, it is more the genre's Medina. To continue the extended metaphor, Roky Erickson and the 13th Floor Elevators brought psychedelia to SF from Texas like musical Muhammads. His "freak out, drone and groan" took root in the city by the bay and the rest is as they say, one version of history. On the approach to the club it was clear that their was a lot of the infamous "Brown Acid" circulating around. I witnessed several attendees trying to get right after getting real gone before the show. Inside they were dropping like flies as the music overwhelmed some who hadn't found the right ratio of booze-to pills-to pot-to (insert psychedelic of choice). It was kind of refreshing to be in an environment that felt as authentic as the bands on the bill.

Sleepy Sun's Bret Constantino

Sleepy Sun had the audience in full rapture when I entered, delivering a truly inspired performance of the HEAVY. Their sound has always reminded me a bit of Led Zeppelin's in that it is blues-based and versatile for a genre that too often seems content to recreate instead of innovate. With the departure of former "Sun" Rachel Fannan (off pursuing her solo ambitions), I was curious how this would influence the band's dynamic. All questions were answered however, as Sleepy Sun tore through their set with a more focused and refined sensibility. Singer, Bret Constantino, was in full shaman mode confident and comfortable in his role as leader of a band that has limitless directions to explore musically. For me there is no more evident example of this than the song "Lord" off their debut Embrace. The song is a meditative piano-driven ballad with an odd time signature and a beautiful guitar hook that lazes around the core melody. Constantino has a wonderful instrument in his voice and the rest of the band have the chops to take the music to places they may still, as yet, be unaware of going. New song "Toys" hints at the possibilities that await this most interesting of local bands. Their music has a sway and often dreamlike quality to it, which suddenly erupt into punishing grooves. Having seen Sleepy Sun on several occasions over the last couple of years, this was by far my "Ah ha!" moment. 2010's Fever seems to be the tip of the iceberg for this quintet and the time spent touring has turned them a real force on stage. Constanino's natural charisma filled any void left by Fannan's absence.

The Black Angels in strobes inducing phosphene dreams...

The Black Angels have often been called purists in regard to their devotion to what some view a retro-obsessed style of music. Let me say for the record this band is as forward leaning in their music as anyone on the music scene today. Too often bands play coy with influence and inspiration, as if their music comes out of some vacuum. What The Black Angels have always done, particularly with Phosphene Dream, is appropriate the musical touchstones of previous generations into something that feels fresh and of THIS moment. This is not a band that mimics, this is a band that continues a conversation that started in the mid-60's, recontextualizing their musical heroes for these times. The wave of excitement that swept through the room when they hit the stage was palpable. They have built a devout fanbase through years of constant touring and the relentless pursuit of achieving collective transcendence in the live medium. From the pounding tribal beat of their opener, audience and band alike, were off on a journey where the destination wasn't as important as how we were going to get there.

Black Angel, Alex Maas

Bandleader Alex Maas has the kind of voice that oozes cool, while not sounding affected or studied. He's the kind of guy you want leading you into the psychedelic forest the band inhabits because you know he won't let you get too lost. Driven by the propulsive drumming juggernaut that is Stephanie Bailey, songs like "Bad Vibrations" cut a swath through Slim's. Part of the fun was watching the audience snap out of its trance when songs ended, needing time to reorient and process. Other numbers like "Sunday Afternoon" have a sass that kept people moving while remaining transfixed - not an easy feat. The Black Angels songs are often anchored, in addition to Bailey's ground and pound, by walking basslines that often tweak the blues formula just enough to make the familiar seem strange and dark. It's the one instrument that gets passed around between band members. I could see the jams taking place back in Austin with someone stumbling on a riff and "Angels" reaching for whatever instruments are within arms reach to push the idea foreword. Kyle Hunt, Nate Ryan, Christian Bland and Maas create a supernatural drone on guitar, bass, keyboards, drums, and shakers. "You On the Run" from the album Direction To See A Ghost is a perfect example of the otherworldly quality to the band's music. It sounds like the soundtrack to a Hydra's journey through the underwater world. The inventive use of strobes facing the band projected against a simple black and white wave designed backdrop, created the "phosphene dream" that inspired the album's title. The crowd was locked in with the band from the opening notes to the final tone diminished into the night air. This is "freak out" music done with elegance, respect, and a sense of ritual. You know a show is good when everyone waiting in line for the bathroom turn into a bunch of Chatty Cathy's. People left the club wild-eyed and looking for a place to go continue what The Black Angels set in motion, a fevered dream that felt communal.

A lot of stuff was being passed around, trust me...

So often I go to shows and wonder how different they would be in a more hallowed and romanticized decade. I left The Black Angels and Sleepy Sun show at Slim's knowing that there was no better experience to be had in any other dimension of time or space. This is why we go to see live music, to experience something that takes you out of the normal and inserts you into the possible. These bands prove that it is possible to have one foot in the past and the other in the future, while straddling the decades between...and that's not just the  "Brown Acid" talking.

This is RAWK!!

So is this....

Live Review: CSS & Hot Tub Play SF's Popscene And Even Though Lindsay Lohan Was Not Sighted, Everyone Had An AMAZING Time! Or, The Fear Of Irrelevancy Delivered In A Thousand Characters Or Less...

CSS on stage at Mezzanine, a view to a kill...photo by RLC

The thing about being a music writer is that there is an overwhelming pressure to be everywhere at once. This anxiety to be at all the “right shows” and cover every band that gets mentioned to you, however casually, seems to heighten when festival season kicks off in full swing. This past weekend the Coachella Music & Arts Festival was being held in the desert outside LA and it was the first time in the last three years that I did not attend. I have my reasons for this - most far too snarky and petty to mention in a blog that prides itself on its sanctimony - still, I still found myself suffering from a bloggers inferiority complex. I mean, “Tweet” after FUCKING “Tweet” of attendees and colleagues bestowing such keen observations as; “Arcade Fire is KILLIN IT!” or “Mojave Tent is GOING OFF! RT NOW!”, paired with camera phone PROOF! This left me feeling like there might be a crucial, "Critical" void in coverage not being met. The reality is that I have known for some time that one need not attend Coachella in order to sample some of the best live shows during this weekend. By simply staying put and going to some of the finest venues anywhere in the country, to see the same acts making their way to desert, I might be able to give you a bit more information to chew than, “My gnarly, unwashed, long-natch curly camping hair is more epic than Arcade Fire's performance last night.”

The Mezzanine Tent was GOING OFF in SF!!!...photo by RLC

So in the interest of music journalism here is a review of CSS kicking off their tour at San Francisco’s Mezzanine on Friday night, two days prior to playing an abbreviated set in an over-crowded tent in front of a bunch of hipsters watching themselves watching a band that they secretly hope Lindsay Lohan is watching so they can watch her watch the band that they are not watching because they are tapping on their iPhone a “Tweet” about how Lindsay Lohan is watching the same band that they are not-watching and isn’t this, “TENT AND BAND GOING OFF!” This must be its own ring in Dante’s infernal inferno.

I first want to note how local promoters Popscene consistently and continually bring the Bay Area some of the best bills assembled anywhere in the country, pairing local talent with some of the most unique and compelling national/international artists. Their weekly events are always worth attending and DJ’s Omar along with LIVE 105’s Aaron Axelsen (the man behind Popscene) throw a great party! This was most definitely the case on Friday as Sao Paulo, Brazil’s CSS were teamed with Oakland, CA’s HOTTUB for a night of music that was, I guarantee, on par with anything happening in the desert at that same time.

Too hot in the HOTTUB...photo by RLC

 HOTTUB are a trio of female MCs that hit the stage with so much energy that I was literally left standing slack jawed. They are like female Beastie Boys, only with much better flow and rhyming skills, and they are committed to fighting for their right to party and demand that you should be to. The audience was hooked from the first song and by the end of the set had joined the ladies onstage. Do not miss HOTTUB! Their stage show has to “be seen to be believed”. They fuse an old school hip-hop sensibility with whatever the FUCK suits them. They were the bubbles and this hot tub was full up, turning Mezzanine into a sauna in the process.

Lovefoxxx from CSS takes out the trash...photo by RLC

The near sell-out crowd was in great spirits after Hot Tub’s set and primed for the act they were all there to see, CSS. Now, admittedly, I was late to the band from Brazil’s party. The electro-pop unit had built quite a "buzz" being signed to Sub Pop
for the release of their debut Cansei de Ser Sexy and had a song featured in an Apple commercial – the latter usually precludes me from buying in. But, courtesy of the San Francisco Public Library, I rediscovered CSS through their 2008 release Donkey and was now fully converted to their contact sport approach to dance-pop. From the moment they took the stage singer Lovefoxxx let everyone in attendance know how this show was going to go down. We were going to dance, get sweaty, love our neighbor, and she was going to lead a relentless attack of music that vacillates between electronic, reggae, kuduro, pop, and “new rave”. The mostly female contingent delivers this hybrid dance music using a straightforward rock band setup of guitars, bass and drums (in addition to synths ). Their energy and stage presence rival that of the best punk bands, with Lovefoxxx spending plenty of time crowd surfing or singing from the middle of the audience. The 90-minute set was a nonstop, energy-fueled, joyride in a car without breaks! I imagine their set at Coachella a day later was hotter than anything the desert sun could produce. This band is in it to win it live and took no prisoners Friday. Singer Lovefoxxx proudly wore a shirt inscribed with the word “Trash” across her chest, but there was nothing trashy about the execution of their music. This is a very tight and well-tuned band that is sure to continue blowing minds as they join Sleigh Bells for the rest of their stateside tour.

These girls are not from Ipanema...photo by RLC

Sadly, there were no Lindsay Lohan sightings, thus, rendering this evening of wonderful music invalid. The funny thing was that I don’t think anyone cared when removed from whatever context Coachella now inhabits for those that attend. Relevance is a funny thing because it’s always shifting and very hard to pin down. Especially, when compressed into 140 characters. What I do know is that this show Popscene put on was as relevant to those lucky enough to be there as anything else happening 500 miles south. CSS & HOT TUB WERE KILLIN IT @Mezzanine @Coachella @Pitchfork @LindseyLohan…

  

PJ Harvey Battles Chatterboxes And iPhones At San Francisco’s Warfield Theatre And Wins!...Or, A Review And Commentary On Why Coachella Is Not Only In The Desert…Or, STILL, An Amazing Artist On Display If People Could Just SHUT UP!

These are the types of photos you get when you can't bring a camera into the show

Coachella for San Franciscans tends to last far longer than the three-days in the desert many are about to participate in. By that I mean, being the next market for bands travelling to and from the perennial “buzz bin” showcase and reunion spawning Woodstock for hipsters, we are blessed in the Bay Area to see many of the bands playing the Indio Polo Fields – all from the comfort of our own slice of far foggier hipster heaven. One of the more highly anticipated Coachella performances is the return of Polly Jean Harvey after several years of touring inactivity stateside. PJ Harvey performed at San Francisco’s Warfield Theatre last night in front of a sold-out crowd of 2,200. Harvey is on tour – by tour I mean last night’s performance, Coachella, and two shows at NYC’s Terminal 5 - supporting her latest release Let England Shake. This album is a rarefied musing on war from various perspectives, done largely in a subdued, British folk tradition, that would feel more current to people from the 19^th century than those expecting the “Sheela-Ne-Gig” exhibitionism of Harvey’s indie-rock past. Harvey is an artist in the truest sense of the word. Her recent albums have reflected her dogged desire to follow whatever muse inspires her, critics and fans alike be DAMNED!

This made for an interesting setting at the Warfield where the packed house was treated to music that required attention, reflection, and perhaps most importantly, quiet, to derive the true benefit of one’s concert dollar. Sadly, save for those packed in tight on the floor and those seated in the balcony, little quiet was on display. The chatter seemed to focus largely on, “how cool it was to FINALLY see her…” and  “What a HUGE fan of her music I am…” and “She’s just soooo GREAT…” BLAH, BLAH, BLAH! This should come as no surprise considering how most concert experiences have become as much a celebration of self as the music everyone gives lip-service to being there to see. As a veteran of the Coachella festival over the last few years, this “Paean to Self” is why I wasn’t interested in attending this year. The shift in recent years has been away from the music and musicians toward the attendees and their triumph of lifestyle as substance. I was hoping to escape some of that seeing Harvey at the Warfield. Alas, I spent a large part of the evening trying to navigate around over-zealous security guards, hell-bent on protecting the sovereignty of the “aisle” – which are seemingly ubiquitous – and the various pockets of chatterboxes or those texting away in a glow of communicative ecstasy. As someone interested in what Harvey had to say, it was a bit distracting to say the least.

A Victorian vision worthy of Heathcliff...photo by RLC

None of the above commentary should detract from the brilliant performance Harvey and her gifted band put on for those that chose to focus on it. A band that included longtime collaborator John Parish (bass, guitar, piano/keyboard, vocal) and legendary Bad Seed, Mick Harvey (guitar and various other instruments), along with a wonderful drummer invoked the songs with the perfect balance of heft and delicacy, which suited the material largely drawn from Let England Shake. Harvey, always an arresting performer, did not disappoint musically or visually. She entered the stage like a feather festooned, Victorian goddess, who had wandered in from a contemplative walk through the moors and crags of Bronte’s Wuthering Heights. Clutching an Autoharp in a full-length, white trumpet style gown with the slightest slit revealing black knee-high Victorian leather boots and adorned with a black-feathered headdress of grandiose proportions, her face paled with theatre makeup, she was set off from the band on stage right. She delivered her songs in a powerful lilt with well-postured conviction. The show was lit using classic theatre lighting of varying shades of white and amber. Having the band offset from Harvey making her “narrator” to the bands actions complemented the stark lighting and staging – too bad this was not more of a theatre-going crowd. Early set highlights included “Let England Shake”, “The Words That Maketh Murder”, and “The Last Living Rose”. Harvey is as understated these days, as she was unhinged during the Dry and Rid Of Me period of her musical career. Even when she strapped on a guitar for songs, “This Is Love” (from Stories From The City, Stories From The Sea) or “Down By The Water” (from To Bring You My Love), she was an exercise in restraint and elegance. Her new album really was the focus of most of the show and songs like “Bitter Branches” and “In Dark Places” are easily as necessary as anything from her revered back catalog. The latter song features the wonderful vocal harmony and interplay between her and Parish. For a album based on a the relatively dark theme of war, Harvey’s songs and treatment of them live bring out the heroism and resoluteness of conviction that often lead us there.

The mysterious PJ Harvey shrouded in the blackness of war...Or, another cheap camera phone pic.

Her near two-hour set was more akin to a theatrical performance than the cathartic RAWK show some may have been expecting. The only words uttered by Harvey were heartfelt thanks at the end of the set and the introduction of her band. When she returned for an encore, which included a deliciously mysterious version of “Angelene” (off Is This Desire), that feeling of catharsis was reached for anyone that followed the dramatic arc of a performance and performer whose idiosyncrasy is rare in music these days. Simply attending a show to say you were there with pictures to prove misses the point of why we value artists in our society. In the case of someone of Harvey’s ability it is to meditate on what it means to be human and why we gather at communal events in the first place. It might just be to feel connected to some common love or celebrate the survival of the daily wars being waged on our sensibilities. In a world of distractions it would be nice if we allowed ourselves a couple of hours to simply focus, and not be distracted.

The Caitlin Rose Makes Her SF Debut At Cafe Du Nord And A Beautiful City Just Got More Beautiful...Or, Be True To Your School...

The Caitlin Rose...photo by RLC

Young musicians playing live these days often come in a variety of “packages”, with several stances on display. You have “youth in revolt”, middle finger proudly raised, rallying against the world. “Apathetic youth” with hangdog disaffection and a hint of apology on full display. “Earnest youth” trying to win you over with willful community building exercises. Then there is something rarer, subtler and less contrived, performers that both exude a natural confidence, while at the same time, bearing a real and unfiltered vulnerability. I witnessed one such performer at San Francisco’s Café Du Nord opening for Ron Sexsmith on Thursday night. The performer should not be a stranger to the readers of this blog but to San Francisco she is largely unknown. Caitlin Rose was in town to mark her SF debut in support of her highly acclaimed full-length album, Own Side Now. This Nashville singer-songwriter - accompanied by Jeremy Fetzer on guitar and Spencer Cullum Jr on pedal steel – played a forty-five minute set of some of the prettiest, heartfelt, and wry songs that belie the relatively young age of Rose. Many reviewers point to pedigree to explain her precocious grasp of human nature and love’s true ways – Caitlin’s mother Liz is an acclaimed songwriter. But Liz Rose didn’t live these particular experiences, love these boys and put these words, melodies, and chords together, Caitlin did. So we can dispense with the backstory and get to the reviewing.

Three was a magic number at Cafe Du Nord...photo by RLC

It was refreshing to see a scaled back line-up, offering a break from the more traditional “rock band” set up. This really suited the individual playing and put the focus firmly on Rose’s emotive and powerful voice and the words being emitted. The older crowd gathered were largely there to see Sexsmith but many had heard the “buzz” Rose has created in Europe – where she has been whole-heartedly embraced. With each song the audience moved closer and the room filled in. Rose has an easy charm, a combination of the girl-next-door with the girl-you-wouldn’t-want-to-cross. Opener “Learning to Ride” was treated gently and served as a perfect introduction to her songs for the unfamiliar audience. The interplay between Fetzer and Cullum Jr. was a real pleasure to watch, both are studies in restraint and how one well-placed note speaks volumes.

Pay attention, you might learn something. RLC

Rose’s gifted voice can ache with the best of country music’s hallowed female singers she often gets compared to. But, there is a modern quality to how she approaches a traditional form. Her songs have just as much in common with Jackson Browne as Patsy Cline. When she played “Own Side” the stage seemed to dissolve into a bedroom, with Rose strumming her guitar, while purging the demons of her self-destructive nature on the edge of her bed. Her intro to the song “New York” was an interesting moment to watch an artist come to terms with the change in meaning for one of their songs. She noted that the song was originally written as a slag against a city she may not have been ready for yet and an unwelcomed invitation she received there but time, travel, and experience made the song come off more as a celebration of the triumphs the city represents.

Jeremy Fetzer...photo by RLC

“Spare Me” was a great mid-tempo tune that allowed Fetzer to cut lose and display some fine leads. He dials in the classic tone you associate with country music, while also underlying Rose’s vocal flourishes with subtle, delicately picked notes. The same can be said for Cullum Jr.’s truly wonderful atmospheric playing. Both musicians are steeped in the tradition without feeling soulless in the execution. If there is any justice in the music world the song “Shanghai Cigarettes” will not only be a huge hit – replacing some of the inexplicable “hits” topping country charts currently – but also, be covered by as many artists and in as many different languages as possible. Yes, it’s that good a song. It is much more in the pop vein structurally and may be a window into the types of songs Rose is capable of writing in the future. This song had every butt in the room tick-tocking in time with the driving chorus. For me one of the highlights of the set was a song that I’d never heard her perform and was treated very differently than on the album, “Comin Up”. It showcases Rose’s vulnerability as an artist and then shifts in the middle section into a bawdy honky-tonk stomp. The song captures Caitlin Rose at this point in her career, confident in who she is and tough enough to allow her personal and emotional flaws to be exposed. She is able to translate that as a performer in a way that is not affected or a stance but genuine. By the end of the set the audience was at a Caitlin Rose show as sure as they thought they were at the Ron Sexsmith show.

Ty Segal, Natural Child, & The Strange Boys @ SF's Verdi Club In Pictures As Part Of Burger Boogaloo...

Artwork by William Keihn

There is something truly wonderful and time-honored about all-ages shows held in ethnically distinguished social halls. The clash of kids milling around the entranceway to a space usually reserved for weddings, bingo, and wakes always makes me thankful. It's this re-fashioning of use that makes me crave a buffet to go along with my PBR in a can and in this case, "garage/psyche/RAWK! On Friday night in San Francisco's Mission District the Verdi Club - located on 18th and Mariposa - an Italian-American social club that has been in existence since 1916, hosted a banquet of some of fine music. This might be the first time a band playing there didn't feature an accordion or cover Louis Prima. The deliciously late 70's decor and interior of the hall was the perfect setting for a night of bruising, blistering, and blunt rock and roll as part of Burger Boogaloo's "takeover" of San Francisco. The 300 plus in attendance were treated to a bill headlined by SF's Ty Segall, Nashville's Natural Child, and Austin's The Strange Boys, along with others. What follows is a few pics from that night, minus the cutting of the cake and removing of the garter.

Austin, TX's The Strange Boys light it up...photo by RLC

The Strange Boys played a furious garage rock set that was entertaining, albeit a bit one note. They lacked the diversity in their sound of Natural Child and Ty Segall. The Austin trio is clearly a favorite among the other bands and made the long drive out from Texas after playing SXSW. Ty Segall offered $20 to the winner of an impromptu dance competition he decided to sponsor. The Strange Boys were on the road with Natural Child and making the long drive to Portland, OR after the show.

Check the "freak flag" behind the band...photo by RLC

One of my favorite bands was up next, Natural Child. This Nashville power-trio (a very popular setup for bands these days) is the perfect combination of having an amazing sound in service of GREAT songs. The dual vocals of Wez Traylor and Seth together hit the perfect note, roughhewn but melodic as HELL! These guys have a lot of different shades to the "green" inspired songs. They are HEAVY but not in a way that excludes but includes the ladies. Their lyrics are odes to a life worth livin', when livin' is done on the cheap and in the back of a van. They pair perfectly with beer in a can and I love them. Look for an upcoming interview with Natural Child here on the "What Duvet Said...About Music" podcast.

If Keith Richards sang with Keith Richards...photo by RLC

Natural Child managed to play their entire set without playing my three favorite songs and moments after arriving from the long drive up from LA. The air was thick inside the Verdi Club with  the KIND "verdi" and the crowd edge closer to the stage with each song. This is a band to NEVER miss live. They will be releasing their first full-length album on Nashville based Infinity Cat Records oddly enough on 4/20. This is NOT a shocker, believe me.

This amp catches dreams...photo by RLC

I had to buy the silkscreened shirts Natural Child were selling because they were simply put, "KOOL AS SHIT!" This is a reminder to anyone seeing touring bands, BUY THE MERCH! It keeps gas in vans, nicotine in lungs, drugs in veins, and might make it easier for you to see them again sooner rather than never again. This has been a public service announcement from your friends at Duvet.

Natural Child in their natural setting...photo by RLC

Closing the show was this scene's very own "natural child" Ty Segall. Segall is a real treasure and should be seen to be believed. His set is always blistering and a communal event. His show on Friday found "Strange Boy" drummer Mike La Franchi sitting in on bass. But the focus is always on wunderkind guitar hero Segall. Popular all over the country I don't expect him to be playing venues this intimate and low-key for much longer.

RAWK in action...photo by RLC

Most of the songs came off his most recent album Melted and faces were indeed MELTED! His cover of Sabbath's "Paranoid" was truly inspired. In fact, it inspired this writer to push is way up front, order another beer he didn't need, and led to a longer night than anticipated. KUDOS Ty! Thanks for the memories I can't remember. But here are a couple I managed to pop-off  inpixulated for posterity.

A picture is worth a 1000 words and will have to suffice...photo by RLC

RAWK is always better viewed in a top hat. It was a classy affair at the Verdi Club. The pic below captures the "pomp" being witnessed from the back of the room, on stage would be the "circumstance". The next time I come back to the Verdi Club I think I'll try the fish but Friday night was definitely steak and potatoes.

Down in front!...photo by RLC

Shilpa Ray And Her Happy Hookers Are The Gut Of RAWK…Never Wrong And Needed To Be Checked Often!

Shilpa Ray makes the harmonium and essential RAWK instrument...photo by RLC 

Brooklyn quartet Shilpa Ray And Her Happy Hookers laid waste to San Francisco’s Bottom of the Hill last Thursday night opening for Japanese psychedelic band Acid Mothers Temple. The room was full when Ray and the Hookers took the stage and unleashed a carnival of blues-soaked, often transcendent rock tunes from their recent release, Teenage & Torture. The band is currently on a tour that takes them across the entirety of the country and they sounded battle-tested throughout the nearly hourlong set. Ray admitted to suffering from the effects of a long night in Los Angeles coinciding with “feminine issues” – which, probably no male writer should dare mention in print – Ray quipped, “No Midol can make this happen.” The diverse audience stood enraptured and offered "weed" to help medicate, to which she replied, “Oh, I forgot this is California.”

Happy Hookers, INDEED!...photo by RLC

I use the term unhinged a lot when trying to describe certain artists. In the case of Shilpa Ray And Her Happy Hookers it is a clear use of the word. But, it’s a channeled chaos funneled through some very well-written and performed songs. I went into this show expecting something more reverential and "arty". I left being fully treated to a RAWK show on par with performance heavyweights like Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds and Sonic Youth. The band has the ability to navigate between driving rock numbers like “Hookers” and “Heaven in Stereo” and the dynamic nuances inherent in those songs, with the more trance-inducing, raga-inflected vibe of a “Venus Shaver”. The through-line being the bluesy swagger and committed vocal delivery of Ray.

Shilpa Ray...photo by RLC

If the harmonium reached its peak in the early 20^th century as a smaller scale pipe organ in churches, this common Indian instrument played by Ray re-constituted the Bottom of the Hill into a different kind of place of worship. The congregation was led through a mass of inventive and purposeful hymns to femininity, disease, and heartbreak. Despite the seemingly dark subject matter, Shilpa Ray And Her happy Hookers are a joyous live experience, a celebration of performance and craftsmanship. Shilpa Ray is like Patti Smith, just as unique, defiant, and powerful but remade for a generation in desperate need of a kick-in-the ass! Like Smith, Ray’s band is a ferocious contingent, particularly guitarist Andrew Bailey, who is the Lenny Kaye to Ray’s Smith. Bassist Nick Hundley provided the pulse and thunder playing off a fill-in drummer who was only playing his second show with the band – literally not missing a beat.

Hooker, Nick Hundley with Shilpa Ray...photo by RLC

The interesting thing to watch was how inspired the young women looked in the audience. In Ray they could find someone whose talent and force of will was on full display, as she owned every inch of the stage. This seemed to be modeled back by the women in the audience, singly along with straightened spines, owning their femininity in the traditionally male world of rock. This band not only deserves attention, they command it – a rarer feat in the too-kool-for-school, ironical landscape of today’s “alternative rock”. I will be sure to re-beat the drum when Shilpa Ray And Her Happy Hookers come back to San Francisco in mid-May to play Bimbo's with Philadelphia’s RAWK circus Man Man. To hear and learn more about Shilpa Ray And Her Happy Hookers listen to this week’s “What Duvet Said…About Music” Issue 24 podcast, which will feature my interview with the band immediately following their show. The podcast can be found here on Wednesday. Below is some video taken LIVE and uneditied with my trusty FlipCam.

LIVE REVIEW: Olin & The Moon May Be From Idaho But They Conquered Utah Last Wednesday Night in San Francisco...

Olin & The Moon at the Hotel Utah...photo by Robert Celli

This past Wednesday night I had the opportunity to see the pride of Sun Valley, Idaho Olin & The Moon live at the Hotel Utah in San Francisco. In an earlier post on this blog I sung the band's praises for their latest recording Footsteps. But the real proof for me has always been what can a band can do free of the studio and placed on a stage. I was not the least bit disappointed, in fact I was blown away by the poise and maturity of a band that clearly has been earning it on the road, one town at a time. Lead singer and songwriter David LaBrel had a natural charisma and confidence that swept through the small but tightly packed club. This is a band that is comfortable playing to whatever room "the road" throws their way. I could imagine their sound being just as dialed in an arena as in a 50 seat cafe. Their songs already seem designed to fill the space between your headphones, or a bedroom late at night, but what about a club?

David LaBrel w/ acoordion...photo by Robert Celli

At "the Utah" they played a diverse set of songs that had the girls gently rocking back and forth, while providing enough muscle for the men to grip their Buds and confidently nod their heads. "Terrible Town" - a single off an earlier album of the same name - was a great driving rock tune. The song featured some perfectly orchestrated builds and nice accents, highlighting drummer Marshall Vore's and bassist Kyle Vicioso's understated rhythmic punch. In fact, that "understated" quality is at the core of the band's live sound . Olin & The Moon strike the perfect balance of delivering well-defined parts that are not stiffly executed. There is an "in-the-moment" aspect to this band and the way the songs are approached in the live setting. It could be easy to fall back on road-tested chops but they genuinely seem to be connecting with the songs, crowd and each other, in a way that is natural and organic to THAT performance. Lead guitarist Travis LaBrel plays leads that resonate but are never over-played, reminding me of another restrained but tasty guitar player, Lucero's Brian Venable. He also hits some sweet harmonies with his brother-the kind only brothers can hit - as was evidenced in the song "Jackson".

Brothers LaBrel...photo by Robert Celli

Another set highlight  for me was "Out of Here" featuring accordion and vocals that were at once strong and aching by David LaBrel. LaBrel has a natural and unaffected instrument that connects well with audiences. "Waking Up" was a fine example of why pedal steel is such a wondrous instrument. Pedal steel player Brian McGinnis has a precocious command over an instrument that it takes many years to master. The hourlong set reminded me of two of my favorite live bands Lucero and Soul Asylum. Like those bands, Olin & The Moon take you on a musical journey that goes by too fast and leaves you wanting a few songs more. Now, I see plenty of bands and this is not the norm. Most times I wish a few minutes would be shaved off of sets but definitely not in this case. When the closer and EPIC "15 Burro Blanco" came to its crashing crescendo, I was patiently waiting for the next tune when I noticed the band was packing up. That is a good sign...believe me for a guy who sees close to 200 shows a year, a very good sign. The band left for gigs in Fresno and Santa Cruz before eventually heading out to Austin, TX for SXSW. Video below of their set closer taken with my trusty FlipCam UNEDITED and extremely LIVE, enjoy.

Up next SXSW...photo by Robert Celli