Concert review and set list: Florence + the Machine (with Blood Orange) fills the Peabody Opera House with high drama, Sunday, April 29

Florence + the Machine at the Peabody Opera House in St. Louis, April 29, 2012

Jarred Gastreich

Louder than sirens, louder than bells: An enthralled crowd worshipped at the altar of Florence + the Machine in the drizzly Sunday twilight.

The crowd trickled in to the sounds of Blood Orange (although many of us didn’t know that; the artist didn’t introduce himself until the last song), an unlikely opening act: a single human being surrounded by scads of machines (Mac-generated beats, effects pedals and a projector screen upon which cut-and-pasted scenes from “Grease 2″ and “Felicity” played on a loop) that were perhaps designed to make you forget that he was either blatantly remixing or channeling the band we were all there to see. He sounded like a mashup of Prince, Seal, and Imogen Heap, or maybe the disputed love child of all three. On to Florence!

Her entrance was as theatrical as you would expect: arms spread wide as sparkling lights illuminated the folds of a sheer black cloak –something an elf queen, or perhaps a Victoria’s Secret model from the 1970s, would wear. She descended the stairs with force, almost moth-like as she spun and skipped across the stage, flaming of hair and bare of foot. A dewy, wooded meadow might have been a more appropriate venue — or at least an outdoor festival, to which she alluded after opening with “Only If For A Night”: “Can you all stand up? It’s quite odd to be playing when you are sitting down, it’s like we’re at the cinema.” Still, the Peabody was well suited to F + M. Every spotlight, every note was on point; rafters, though not visible, were shaken. The set list was heavy on the latest material from the wildly popular “Ceremonials”; however, whenever there were twinklings of harp notes from “Lungs” songs, the masses collectively swooned with something akin to religious ecstasy.

Lest you curl your lip at the ethereality of the Machine, let me remind you that it was not all fairy wings and flowing robes. Take “Rabbit Heart,” for instance: Florence, slightly aghast at the nobility of the venue, reminded us that “this song is for the ladies” and that we should subvert the poshness, the opera housey-ness, of the Peabody by hoisting girls on shoulders and shouting “RAISE IT UP! RAISE IT UP!” along with her black-clad backup crew. I tried to get my sister on my shoulders; she was having none of it, but girls all over the orchestra section started climbing on top of friends, seats, aisles, etc., much to the delight of Florence and the likely dismay of the Peabody Opera House staff.

The spiritualized wordplay of F + M’s soaring ballads, transposed against a backdrop of stained glass, lent an eerie, church-like texture to the performance. Florence herself is a willowy high priestess who at any time could be beamed up into outer space (“Cosmic Love”) or command legions of devotees to pray at her feet even as she declares, in anything but a mournful tone, “there’s no salvation for me now” (“Lover to Lover”). This hybrid of science fiction and mother earthiness is what makes F + M so arresting and her popular appeal somewhat of an enigma.

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Posted by | April 30, 2012 | Concerts | Comment 

Concert review: Ray Wylie Hubbard deals a royal blues flush at the Old Rock House, Saturday, April 28

Ray Wylie Hubbard at the Old Rock House in St. Louis, April 28, 2012

Roy Kasten

St. Louis music fans showed true dedication last night as heavy rain, hail, lightning and damaging winds couldn’t keep a solid crowd away from the Old Rock House to see legendary Texas-based singer and songwriter Ray Wylie Hubbard.

On a night when a tent outside a bar in downtown St. Louis left one dead and 17 injured and tennis-ball-sized hail broke windshields across the region, Hubbard rained down a mix of country, folk and blues to warm up a mostly middle-aged audience, still wet and cold from the storm.

Unfortunately the severe weather kept me from arriving on time for the early 7 p.m. start. Why so early you ask? The venue had scheduled another event immediately following this KDHX-welcomed concert; one that incorporated a back drop of black and neon-green decorative snakes wrapped with what looked like metal dryer vents that extended from the stage to a light rig above. It was upon that backdrop that Hubbard — dressed in a long-sleeved black t-shirt over blue jeans with a stocking cap pulled down tight — took the stage in front of a large group loyal fans packing the venue to about three-quarters full.

On tour to support his new album “The Grifter’s Hymnal,” the prolific Oklahoma-born songwriter’s 11th album in the last 20 years, Hubbard performed several new songs including “Henhouse” (a tune he co-wrote with Hayes Carll), “Red Badge of Courage” (a dedication to troops in Afghanistan who listened to his music on recon missions) and “Count My Blessings” (a track inspired by fellow songwriter Slaid Cleaves’ “One Good Year”). With honest lyrics that speak to the hard-working American, Hubbard’s weathered voice gave credence to the stories and lyrical imagery he painted throughout his 40-plus years in music. Upon hearing his songs, one need not question that he’s lived through some hard times yet continued to persevere.

Throughout the 97-minute set, Hubbard switched between acoustic and electric guitar as he played a country and blues mix that had the audience moving and grooving. He would add flourishes of slide guitar and sometimes just keep the beat going with his thumb plucking the open strings. Accompanied onstage by the solid drumming of Rick Richards, Hubbard was in a relaxed, easygoing mood and seemed to have a great time interacting with the crowd. Richards — a spectacular timekeeper with a great bass drum foot and a simple set of snare, floor tom, bass drum and tambourine — provided a solid backbone while Hubbard sang, spun yarns and entertained.

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Posted by | April 29, 2012 | Concerts | Comment 

Concert review and set list: Social Distortion slows it down at Pop’s, Saturday, April 28

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Mike Ness seems tired, or maybe just bored. I saw him about this time last year at the Pageant and walked away thinking I had seen one of the greatest shows. But after last night’s Social Distortion show at Pop’s, I cruised back home over the bridge a little more than underwhelmed.
 
Social Distortion is currently rounded out by Johnny “2 Bags” Wickersham on guitar (who traded off guitar solos with Ness and looks just like the late and former Social D guitarist Dennis Dannel), Brent Harding on bass and David Hidalgo, Jr. on the drums. Hidalgo is the newest member of Social, joining in 2010, and deserves to be in the ranks of Chuck Biscuits and Derek O’Brien as a punk-rock drummer.

Decked out in his now standard fedora, black suspenders and high-waist trousers, Ness and company took the smoky and antique trinket-adorned stage to Muddy Waters’ “Mannish Boy” (it was the version with Johnny Winter). Of course, Ness made the dramatic appearance and bowed. Why the hell he doesn’t just get a punk rock gig in Vegas is beyond me. The classic blues song faded out and finally Mike Ness’ distinct Les Paul rang out the opening chords of “Bad Luck” and performed by far the most energetic song of the band’s set.

Social Distortion sounded fine for the first half of their set or so, ripping through those confessional hindsight rockers that Ness has come to master and even indulge in at times. Fan favorites like “Story of my Life,” “Sick Boy” and “I Was Wrong” reminded me of why I love Social Distortion so damn much. (And, yes, “Social Distortion!” replaced “self destruction” during the “I Was Wrong” chorus much to my pleasure and anyone else who has seen/heard that song live.) Mike Ness seems to know what we go through at our lowest points and how we feel in our moments of redemption. He captures those bittersweet sentiments perfectly in his songs.
 
However, as much as I love this band, it wasn’t too long into their rather brief set that I felt something was askew with the band. An organ/keyboard player graced the stage, and appeared to walk off stage as much as he played inaudible parts during the songs. But that wasn’t it. Something wasn’t right; the show just was not building up any momentum. There were moments when the musicians would be talking amongst each other and the venue was completely silent save for conversations regarding whiskey sours and leather jackets.
 
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Posted by | April 29, 2012 | Concerts | Comment 

Concert review: Jeffrey Foucault impresses a seated Off Broadway, Thursday, April 26

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Part John Prine, part Dylan, part lonely cowboy swilling whiskey out on a moonlit prairie, Jeffrey Foucault has a chameleonic sound. This quality enhances the troubadour’s grace and emboldens the emotional power of the music.

Many of Foucault’s moving ballads are concerned with introspection and love lost, often couched in the loneliness of travel. “Starlight and Static,” from 2011′s “Horse Latitudes,” washed over the crowd at Off Broadway with tight hammer-ons and dulcet picking. Foucault’s voice stood alone, unlike on the studio version, lending the song new-found power and humanity.

“Pretty Girl in a Small Town” conjured Tom Petty vibes, as well as heartache elusively playing the edge of fiery expression, an effect conjured in all of the evening’s songs, performed stripped-down, solo and subdued. No drums, no bass, no keys — no back up anything — just a guitar and Foucault’s pure, north-country drawl.

“Ghost Repeater,” from the 2006 album of the same title, suggested Steve Earle crossed with Drive-By Truckers. The zydeco accordion featured on the studio version was absent here, which, again, lent the song a certain satisfying emotional resonance.

“Goners Most,” full of crystalline moments concerned with death and dreaming, brought the quiet warmth of Foucault’s voice to the forefront. The man is a poet, for he made “Ashes to ashes, dust to dust” new again simply by adding a “for” before each phrase. An interlude lulled the audience with a delicate mood as light as crêpe paper. Before anyone knew it, Foucault’s fingertip released a final hammer-on and the instrumental melted into the nothingness of silence.

As Foucault neared the end of his set, he offered up the most satisfying version of “Passerines” I have ever heard — studio or otherwise. Again, the pedal steel and backup vocals of the album version were appropriately absent. “Nothing I Wouldn’t Do,” from 2010′s “Cold Satellite,” told the story of a man who would do anything for his woman, but Foucault made the well-worn idea new by layering the scene with details of the landscape, which he then masterfully conflated with his love.

“Train to Jackson” depicted the artist weary from travel and seeking advice from an elder: “I took a name, I found a range where my voice can make no sound. I met a man that told me son, ‘I can see you’re on the run, and if you tell me where you’re going, I’ll tell you where you’re bound.’” The notion of being “bound” for a location during a journey is one thing, but Foucault enriches the notion by suggesting how humans can be, in-fact, “bound” by travel.

Fan-favorite, “Everybody’s Famous,” marked the close of Foucault’s show. Electric and eclectic like a Califone tune, the song built dynamically with stuttering, palm-muted guitar and Foucault’s clement lyrics. At this point, a rudimentary understanding of Foucault’s true power set in; I realized I was connected to something larger, something real. There we all were, enraptured by Foucault’s music, growing more captivated each passing moment. In this whizzing, digital age, achieving such real connection is an invaluable gift.

Posted by | April 28, 2012 | Concerts | Comment 

Concert review: Baroness loves St. Louis, and the feeling is mutual at the Firebird, Thursday, April 26

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I’m still blown away by this show. In fact, I’m not even here. I’m not even typing this. I’m still standing at the Firebird, trapped in the world of Baroness, a world stark and desolate, lavish and beautiful.

Baroness is John Baizley on lead vocals and guitar, Peter Adams on guitar and vocals, Allen Blickle on drums and Matt Maggioni on bass. They are touring in support of their newest offering, and I use that word quite specifically, a double disk titled “Yellow and Green” set to be released on July 17 through Relapse Records. Following on the heels of the “Red Album” and the “Blue Record,” this new double disk will likely be presented to fans just as the show was last night: as an offering, as an experience. Get ready.

The crowd that traveled from far and near to see Baroness Thursday night at the Firebird was as you might expect them to be: a large mass of black clad, pale, stringy haired dudes with T-shirts advertising the other metal bands they listen to. And the vibe was also as you’d expect at a metal show: mosh pit, agro, lots of head banging. But there was something else: There was a lotta love in that room. It rose as high as the mountain of amps that framed the stage. It was as plentiful as the guitars and black T-shirts. It was as beautiful as the posters for sale at the merch table.

Somebody once told me that listening to music via MP3 or CD forms a tragedy for our ears. Sounds are distorted and rounded off, creating flat blended beige nothing. The opposite of that came out of the throbbing speakers at the Firebird. Intense is the best way to describe bassist Matt Maggioni. He looked like a thing possessed, rocking back and forth on stage as if at any moment the sheer force of sound would hurdle him into the crowd. Peter Baizley practically flirted with all of us unabashedly, tempting us with his vocals and wide, wide eyes looking out to make sure we were all enjoying the music as much as he was. His deep, forceful voice was complimented perfectly by Peter Adams. And Allen Blickle, well, this is how drums should always sound and it made me almost vow to only hear music live (or on the radio). Almost.

Drums do not sound like this when they come pre-packaged in downloadable form. There were moments when the guitars and bass would sort of step back and it sounded like the whole drum kit got pushed off a cliff and was hitting every rock on the way down. Boom, boom, boom, boom. And then, almost as if it were a rescue mission, the other guys would come back in and give us all they had.

From the “Blue Record” we got “A Horse Called Golgotha” and “Jake Leg.” From the “Red Album” we got “Isak” and “The Birthing.” Baroness closed with the last track on the “Red Album,” “Grad,” which probably got the best response from the already frenzied and delirious crowd. No encore, only a heartfelt thank you delivered to us humbly by Baizley. He proclaimed this the best show they’ve ever had in St. Louis and invited fans to come up and say hi after the show, told us not to be strangers.

Being a stranger after this show was impossible. There’s something really unexplainable about the connection made between music and audience at a live show, I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. But last night, what was even more powerful was the love between Baroness and the music. I really sincerely hope that these guys don’t wait two years to tour again because that’s just too long to wait for a show this good.

Correction: The review originally stated that “Rays on Pinion” was the final song of the set. The final song was “Grad.”

Posted by | April 28, 2012 | Concerts | Comment 

Concert review: Dar Williams (with Caleb Travers) spins a few yarns at the Old Rock House, Tuesday, April 24

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There are a million tired clichés that can be used to describe singer-songwriters. Tuesday evening at the Old Rock House Dar Williams put on a performance that was neither tired nor clichéd.

The evening started with Caleb Travers sneaking on stage and easing into his first tune before I realized he was there. Travers is a St. Louis native guitar picker and singer-songwriter that mines tunes from the same vein of love, loss and traveling as artists like Fred Eaglesmith or John Denver. He was joined on stage by Ross Christopher, whose harmonies soared and violin added a tasteful touch to the songs instead of feeling tacked on.

A few songs into his set, Travers mentioned that it was good to play a short opening set for “people who give a shit.” I can’t speak for the rest of the crowd, but I’m pretty sure that part of it was his own energy coming back at him. It was apparent that Travers and Christopher have worked together for a while, as they were choosing what to play on the fly. Along with tunes from Travers’ most recent album they performed a cover of the Everly Brothers’ “Bye Bye Love” that would surely get the stamp of approval from Phil and Don themselves.

Dar Williams hit the stage just after 9 p.m. and put on a performance that was part folk song, part conversation and all entertaining. Williams spent just as much time talking to the crowd as she did playing her music, relaying stories of her past, encouraging us to plant gardens with our neighbors and reminding us of the small things that define particular moments of our own pasts. Her banter was very engaging and brought more meaning to the songs she performed, much like other singing storytellers John Hammond, Jr. and Mary Gauthier.

A large portion of the songs she played were from her new album “In the Time of Gods,” but despite their newness they were all familiar and comforting, like a favorite pair of slippers. Williams’ voice was robust and fantastic. She used those skills to her advantage, most notably on her tune “Summer Child,” in which she playfully wandered across the breadth of her vocal range without getting lost or misplaced. She ended the set with an encore performance of fan-requested “The Babysitter’s Here,” which brought more than one tear to the eyes of the audience.

I spent my drive home trying to think of someone to compare her to, and the only person I could think of was Dar Williams herself. She’s spent the last 20 years traveling the world telling her stories — and fortunately for us, she has managed not to lose herself or her love of what she does.

Posted by | April 25, 2012 | Concerts | 2 Comments 

Concert review: Mucca Pazza (with the Mad Titans) march, literally, through the Firebird, Friday, April 20

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The Mad Titans did their share to justify opening for the extravagant Mucca Pazza at the Firebird on Friday night, but it wasn’t easy.

There are bands, and then there are 20-something-piece marching bands like Mucca Pazza that occupy an entire venue.

The Mad Titans hail from North St. Louis and played a blend of surf rock. Their instrumental jams surfed the Cosine waves of underwater mortgages on now classic Nintendo tunes of Final Fantasy and Zelda. Their upbeat and fast-paced tunes kept the crowd nodding and bobbing while waiting for the Balkan brats from Chicago.

They closed with a rendition of “In the Hall of the Mountain King,” a fitting end, as they were soon banished to the pits of Tartarus by Mucca Pazza.

It has to be near impossible to steal a show from the circus punks of the Second City.

The members of Mucca Pazza emerged from the crowd in marching band outfits and swarmed in front of the stage. Just a few bars into the cacophony of brass, drums and guitar the entire band began a serpentine march through the crowd. How does the electric guitar player march through the crowd you say? He straps on a helmet with a loudspeaker duct taped to it. Just like the audience not a member of the group ever sat down. When they did manage to all occupy the stage they took up the entire width in two lines.

Throughout the entire performance the band sent out drones. Two cheerleaders would burrow in and pop up with blasts of brass to scare unsuspecting patrons. The brass would take up positions on opposite sides of the Firebird and duel not just each other but the crowd. Nowhere was safe, everywhere was boisterous.

Posted by | April 21, 2012 | Concerts | Comment 

Concert review and set list: Getting into the spirit with Cursive, Conduits and Cymbals Eat Guitars at Off Broadway, Friday, April 20

Cursive at Off Broadway in St. Louis. April 20, 2012

Cursive at Off Broadway. Photo by Dustin Winter.

What happens when you mix one part Spiritualized, equal parts Pavement and Thurston Moore, a dash of late-’90s college radio and shake with a trumpet? Just another night at Off Broadway, where assorted and sundry independent music shook the rafters courtesy of Conduits, Cymbals Eat Guitars, and headliners Cursive.

“We’ve played a shit ton of shows on this tour and this has been one of the best,” declared frontman Tim Kasher of Cursive, polishing off a tall boy of unidentifiable origin as the capacity crowd swelled with roars of appreciation. Well into a generous encore, it didn’t seem as though the crowd or the band was ready to call it quits. Cursive had been ripping through the pop-punk-flavored alternative favorites that have made them beloved by erudite indie rockers for over a decade and with each song the crowd loved them more.

Kasher and Co. are well known for a deft songwriting style that assumes a sort of knowing, wink-wink disaffection that somehow manages never to be snide and in fact, revels wholeheartedly in earnest abandon at times. This is music suited to the scholarly scenester, healthily skeptic Generation Y-ers and Millennials who have no illusions about artistic purity or integrity but still believe enough to lose themselves at a live show, all for the love of watching people play instruments and sing about girls. “Art is Hard,” from Cursive’s excellent 2003 release “The Ugly Organ,” summarizes this creative vs. commercial tug-of-war in a self-deprecating missile that saw the crowd singing, cheering, and even (gasp) fist-pumping along.

But let me backtrack. There must be something in the water in Omaha that compels polite and creative young people to make music ranging from the weird to the eclectic. I’d file it under “miscellaneous.” To wit, the opening act, Conduits, an up-and-comer from Saddle Creek Records who led off with a bass-heavy dreamscape of psychedelia. Now this is stuff for which you need long hair, all the better to whip around as you alternate between gazing at your shoes and banging your head.

Second up: Cymbals Eat Guitars, which aside from being a great band name was also a great band. Hailing from New York City even though they kind of look like they’re from Ohio, CEG frontman Joseph D’Agostino announced this was their first visit to St. Louis. Their sound, a little disjointed, ranges from Pavement-esque screamo to gentler, Wilco-esque melody. Keys and a fantastic drummer who didn’t skimp on the open high hat distinguishes the sound of this foursome from other Brooklyn noise bands and in my opinion earns them a rightful place in the “if you like Sonic Youth, check out ____” category.

And then there was Cursive. Leading off with “This House Alive” from their most recent release, I Am Gemini, the four-piece plus one (an extra for the tour) peeled through old and new to the delight of the crowd, who sang along with everything and surged forward to envelop the band members in sweat-soaked approval. After returning the favor with praise for our fair city’s fan base, a lovely young lady with a flower in her hair stepped onstage with two large glasses of that beautiful amber-colored substance we all know as bourbon and offered one to the lead singer. She knocked hers back immediately, while Tim deferred — “I’ve got to play a show!” — but eventually decided that when in Rome, you’d better drink like a St. Louisian. The show went on.

By the end of the night, I was in the mood to hug everyone — such is the power of rock music and rock musicians who play every night like it’s their last. Well done, Omaha.

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Posted by | April 21, 2012 | Concerts | 1 Comment 

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