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: 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: Guitar Wolf (with DinoFight!, Ded Bugs and Transistors) blows minds and eardrums at the Firebird, Thursday, April 5

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Music is one of those rare things that is understood by everyone, regardless of location or language spoken. Guitar Wolf gave evidence in favor of that statement, and a PSA for hearing protection, Thursday night at the Firebird.

Opening the show was DinoFight!, a punk trio from right here in St. Louis. As you can guess from their name, they roam on the lighter side of punk, eschewing serious lyrical content often found in the genre for songs about bad hair, werewolves, entrails and the works of Neil Gaiman. The lack of seriousness ends with the lyrics though, as they’re one of the tightest power trios I’ve seen in a while. They ran through their 30-minute set with gusto, sounding like Betty Blowtorch without the “get bent” attitude. DinoFight! ended their set with a great cover of “Ballroom Blitz” and made for a wonderful appetizer for the rest of the courses being served up.

Next up was local mainstay Ded Bugs, who came up from Desoto, Mo. to bust out a few tunes. I hadn’t seen these guys since I was in high school and was glad that they still put on a great show. Ded Bugs threw down a set of great danceable pop punk that got the crowd on their feet and moving. If you like your punk with a side of alt-rock guitar and the fun of a monster movie marathon, you’ve probably already seen them play. They also got the entire crowd to howl at the moon in honor of Guitar Wolf, which was pretty sweet to see.

The third act to play was New Zealand punk rockers Transistors. Another power trio, these guys started their set at full tilt and didn’t stop until they ran out of time. They ran through a hellacious set of tunes full of snarling distortion and drummer James Harding and guitarist Olly Crawford Ellis took turns shouting out vocals. As raw and scratchy as their sound was, they managed to keep the midrange from washing everything else out of the mix. I especially dug the tone that bassist Colin Roxburgh got out of his rig. It sounded like he turned the tone control on his amp to “Misfits” and broke off the knob. They spent their entire time on stage running through song after song with little to no break in between. Transistors gave the crowd a taste of the harder-edged punk that Guitar Wolf was about to bring to the room.

Within seconds of Bass Wolf (U.G.) and Drum Wolf (Toru) taking the stage there was a fairly large number of people making haste to the restrooms to grab some toilet paper for impromptu earplugs. Once Guitar Wolf himself (Seiji) plugged in and the room was filled with more feedback than the output of a thousand focus groups, I knew it was going to be one hell of an experience.

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Posted by | April 6, 2012 | Concerts | 1 Comment 

Concert review and set list: Mission of Burma (with the Conformists) makes the impossible possible at the Firebird, Wednesday, April 4

facebook.com/BurmaBoston / Chris Gersbeck

It could have happened in any dimly-lit bar or club over the past 33 years. Mission of Burma, the iconic post-punk power trio from Boston, could have played any number of venues that have come and gone in St. Louis, but they didn’t. In that sense, their show at the Firebird last night was indeed historic.

An anxious yet subdued crowd dressed in dark colors filled the venue to see a band that was long on many insiders’ bucket lists. Mission of Burma — featuring guitarist Roger Miller, bassist Clint Conley and drummer Peter Prescott with help from Bob Weston on sound and tape loops — exhibited a professional demeanor from which many younger bands could learn. There was little banter from the stage throughout their 120-minute set bursting with songs than spanned their career. Though each member is firmly in their 50s, there was not an ounce of pure energy left at home. This is no phoned in oldies act. The band, who took a 19-year hiatus to reform nearly 10 years ago, is just as relevant now as they were over 30 years ago with plenty of creativity left for their later years.

I found it interesting, in this age of D.I.Y. promotion, that Mission of Burma sold no merch at the show. Yet, if you weren’t in the know about the band and its influence by now there was not going to be any easy introduction. That’s not the way punk rock works, my friends. Near the end of the set Miller advised the audience, “If you buy records we’ll have a new one in July.” He continued in a wry tone, “We’ve tried to pace ourselves — five albums in 35 years.”

During the show the set list bounced from new songs from the yet to be released “Unsound” to tracks from their initial period as a band from 1979-1983 like “Mica” and “That’s How I Escaped My Certain Fate.” In between the group mixed in highlights from its later period after reuniting for the 2004 album, “ONoffON,” and added others from “The Obliterati” and “The Sound the Speed the Light.” The group efficiently moved through songs in a timely fashion without fuss or fanfare.

Due to his issues with tinnitus over the years, Miller had his Marshall amplifier placed at the front edge of the stage rather than parked behind him to the side of the drums. This exacerbated the decibel level in the room further and left the vocals from all three members a bit hard to hear. With his long hair it was hard to tell if Miller had any of his trademark ear protection in place. With my ear plugs firmly in place, I stood in the back of the room near Weston, who manned the sound board, trying to imagine what the wail coming from Miller’s rig must have sounded like to the fans up front.

With a sense of history and not contrived irony, the band ended their main set with a one-two punch of their first single “Max Ernst” and “Academy Fight Song.” The latter had the crowd singing the lyrics back at Miller loudly over the din resonating from the stage. After the song Conley thanked the crowd for coming — “This was a lot of fun” –and the band headed for the dressing room.

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Posted by | April 5, 2012 | Concerts | Comment 

Concert review: William Fitzsimmons (with Denison Witmer) finds the sweet, quiet spot at the Firebird, Saturday, March 31

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Philadelphia’s Denison Witmer opened with a set of introspective tunes concerned with self-study and literary metaphors. After a few minutes of self-deprecation about his height, Witmer slipped into “Light on My Face” from 2012′s “The Ones Who Wait.” The track stood out as a meticulous ode to love and careful passion. Here, Witmer, with his slight nasal rasp, conjured the solo work of Get Up Kids lead singer Matthew Pryor.

The crowd stood stunned (especially those of us who had caught Katchafire a few nights earlier) as Witmer covered Bob Marley’s “Three Little Birds.” I felt like I was in the Twilight Zone. The tune was stripped down and complicated by Witmer’s quiet tone and warm voice. Witmer closed with “Take More Than You Need.” The audience remained stone silent, in total reverie as the last notes of the final chord were plucked and rang into nothingness from Witmer’s guitar.

William Fitzsimmons took the Firebird stage with guitarist Jake Phillips and multi-instrumentalist/producer Josh Taylor. The trio opened with “The Tide Pulls From the Moon,” from 2011′s “Gold in the Shadow.” The song was subdued — no drums just serene strings. The trio was very near silent the whole set. It was hard to hear them sitting in the corner of the Firebird, back in one of their leathery booths, so I moved.

On “When You Were Young,” from 2005′s “Until We Are Ghosts,” Fitzsimmons slid his dark-warm voice over Phillips’ guitar. The tune swelled toward a dim chorus. The objects and emotional content Fitzsimmons stuffed into his songs turned sepia-toned in the air around the stage.

Taylor gently pulled digital delay and reverb from a Fender guitar as Fitzsimmons sang about graveyards and new beginnings on “Everything Has Changed.” To engage in a cliché: if you were there, you could have heard a pin drop, a beer bottle clatter, a cell phone ring, a cash register ding. If I would have spoken at a normal volume, my voice would have cut the silence hovering around Fitzsimmons’ hushed verses. The communal effect this created — everyone striving for silence to hear and respect the music — was fantastic. More than once I heard fans shushing other fans chattering too loudly.

A drum loop played over “They’ll Never Take the Good Years,” from 2009′s “The Sparrow and The Crow.” Fitzsimmons sang, “Until when we both are ghosts, I will miss you like a friend.” St. Louis has missed Fitzsimmons like a friend and a ghost. The song was played with dutiful harmonizing by Fitzsimmons’ live band. I could hear the audience singing too, all striving for that perfect sonic moment. Fitzsimmons reminded us, “Don’t be afraid to move on.”

Fitzsimmons told the audience, “Time to slow it down a bit.” Then kidded, “How is that even possible? That was the slowest song ever!” Fitzsimmons’ playful joking worked well to keep the audience engaged and the mood just light enough for his darker ballads.

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Posted by | April 1, 2012 | Concerts | Comment 

Concert review: Kevin Seconds, Kepi Ghoulie and Franz Nicolay play the Firebird like a patio jam, Thursday, March 29

flickr.com/photos/manicphotographydani/5018926015 / Dani Palmer

Punk-rock icon Kevin Seconds has always said the main intention with his music was to play extremely melodic songs extremely fast. Thirty or so years later, the tempo has slowed down, but Seconds’ songs and vocals have blossomed as witnessed Thursday night at the Firebird.

I devour anything that deals remotely with hardcore punk rock. Discovering certain band’s influences, or favorite TV shows (“General Hospital” seemed especially popular among punks) isn’t unusual for me. Sometimes that can lead to very scary things — TSOL’s stint with hair metal for example — but every now and then I stumble upon and open some surprising doors. It’s especially great to see a punk rocker continue doing cool shit that doesn’t exclusively deal with their past fame, or lack of it in most cases, I guess.

Enter Kevin Seconds, seminal hardcore vocalist for Reno’s 7 Seconds. Despite his hardcore and alternative rock past, he has since carved out a decent niche for himself as a pop-punky folk singer — although that wouldn’t necessarily be apparent at last night’s show at the Firebird. He might draw a sparse crowd but it’s a devoted and loving sparse crowd. Being at this show made me think he might ask someone from the crowd to come onto stage with him and his pals to strum on the guitar to “Heavy Metal Jock” or something. And that’s not too far from the truth.

Mr. Seconds brought along with him on this tour a couple mates, the mysterious and old-timey Franz Nicolay (best known as ex-piano player for the Hold Steady). Nicolay is an extraordinary multi-instrumentalist, performing with the banjo, guitar and accordion, who might fit in somewhere between Tom Waits and the Squirrel Nut Zippers. Following Nicolay was the goofy Kepi Ghoulie (formerly of the Groovie Ghoulies), who plays kiddy acoustic punk rock for grown-ass people. Fun, sure, but a little over the top. Ghoulie was accompanied by headliner Seconds on drums, giving the performance a bit more of a rock band-type of feel. His enthusiasm was appreciated but ran thin.

When Kevin Seconds took the stage (damn near midnight, believe me Gramps was pissed, and by Gramps, I mean me) I was surprised at the fun and beyond-relaxed feel to the show. This performance seemed more like hanging with some friends and playing music than a national tour. Seconds has traded his punky shaved head in for a fuzzy and graying beard, his skinhead suspenders for baggy fatigues, his anti-Reagan rants for themes of love and friendship. Not to mention the mere physical transformation since his younger days.

But the man, the legend, is still belting out amazing songs. And this dude can sing! He sounded like a wizened 20-year-old pop-punker, and I couldn’t help but to compare him to Motion City Soundtrack’s Justin Pierre. His right-hand man Kepi Ghoulie sat in on the make shift drum kit, pumping out basic beats and chiming in on vocals as needed, sans microphone. Seconds wandered through his extensive catalog not discriminating between old and new while surveying the fans for requests and telling a fun story about how he was called a rock star for doing a two-date tour with the Dead Kennedys back in 1981. He hasn’t much concerned himself if someone calls him a rock star since.

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Posted by | March 30, 2012 | Concerts | Comment 

Concert review: Katchafire (with the Common Kings) does just that at the Firebird, Wednesday, March 28

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The Firebird never smelled so skunky. Door guys scuttled around like roaches trying to bust concertgoers who were bold enough to burn one down directly before the stage. The timid among us were content enough to huddle in close for free smells.

The Common Kings didn’t seem to mind one bit. Their California brand of fusion dub and reggae fueled the stickless and seedless dreams of their friends and toked-out fans. K-Nova sat in with the Common Kings for a few tracks. His raspy, rap-drenched drawl brought everyone to their feet to spread the love with gyrating hips. After K-Nova left the stage, the Common Kings took the Firebird on a mix-tape odyssey, featuring dubbed-out versions of Michael Jackson, LMFAO and Gym Class Heroes. Some of the abridged versions did not work as well as others, but the frenetic pace at which Common Kings slipped into each new suite was impressive.

An eight-piece from New Zealand, Katchafire set up its stage as the audience gathered around. Wafts of herb smoke clung to my clothes. The wondrous stinky-sweet smell emanated from all around me. Lead singer and guitarist Logan Bell offered a quick hello and began “On The Road,” from Katchafire’s 2011 record of the same title. The song sauntered over the heads of the audience like a stoned put-put golf player. Light accents of crisp guitar layered over Tere Ngarua’s thick bass notes were green heaven. Grenville Bell unleashed a searing, “In The Heat of the Night”-esque guitar solo.

“Love Letter” from 2007′s “Say What You’re Thinking” was layered with Marley harmonies, “You got to try-yi-yi-yi-yi,” and heady, bouncy synthesizer. The soulful tune made me understand how Katchafire grew so easily grew from their roots as a Marley cover band.

“Irie” featured a darker tone for which Logan’s vocals were spot on. The song featured a sensual “Exodus” vibe and metaphors for sex couched in metaphors for rolling joints. The horn section blew up during “Frisk Me Down” from 2005′s “Slow Burning.” Jamey Ferguson rocked the saxophone, while an unnamed trumpet player puffed his cheeks to great affect as Logan blended the sounds of Marley and Ben Harper. The song soldiered around the Firebird as the audience bent their knees and leaned into the track.

On “Who You With” Katchafire continued their effortless weed-love metaphors. The urban feel of sunny keys and dispositions flowed into rich harmonies from percussionist Leon Davey, who pattered happily on his bongos.

“Giddy Up,” from 2003′s “Revival” rang sweetly with saxophone and guitar solos as Logan asked the ladies to “get up and ride with me.” Fan-favorite “Seriously” from “Say What You’re Thinking” featured wah-wah guitar and distorted bass. Davey chanted the vocals like a priest delivering a rite during the song’s extended chorus.

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Posted by | March 29, 2012 | Concerts | Comment 

Concert review: The Smoking Popes (with Roundheels) burn through the Firebird, Thursday, March 15

facebook.com/smokingpopes / Bill Thomas

Stalwart punk anthems for the outwardly tattooed but emotionally fragile: the Smoking Popes, unlikely love balladeers and polite band of brothers, played to a couple dozen enthralled fans at the Firebird on Thursday night.

Supporting act Roundheels opened with a metal-licious set featuring thermonuclear drums and a fair bit of antics by the lead singer, who kept leaving the stage to get more beer and ended up ripping his jeans from crotch to knee during a particularly energetic scissor kick. It was an interesting contrast to the laidback stage presence of the Smoking Popes — brothers Caterer (Josh, Eli and Matt) and their drummer Neil Hennessy — who shuffled onstage without ripping or drinking anything and dove headfirst into “Rubella.”

You would never know it from Josh Caterer’s unruffled croon, backed by head-bouncing power chords, that most of his songs have to do with either the tentative beginnings of a crush or the deflation of a crush spurned. In between there are gems like “Punk Band,” which pair upbeat, bouncy drums with lyrics that indicate the life of a rock star ain’t all it’s cracked up to be — resonating with punk bandmates and non-musicians alike who have ever wondered, uncomfortably twisted into a pretzel on a friend’s couch, “Is this really what I should be doing with my time?”

The Smoking Popes helped define a sound (pop-punk) and a place (Chicago, 1990s) that inspired countless others — Jimmy Eat World, Jawbreaker, Alkaline Trio, the Descendants — to reinforce their horned-rim glasses with masking tape and play vigorous tearjerkers that, depending on the mood, could incite marriage proposals and/or angry bottle-throwing in the crowd.

This drizzly Thursday evening was a one-two punch of back-to-back, earnest and snark-free anthems (dedicated at various points, apparently without irony, to both Ron Paul and Ralph Nader) that left us with restless legs and, at least in my case, a powerful urge to relocate my old Punk Planet collection to see if I could find an interview with one or more of the Caterers.

Kicking things off with material from their latest release, the concept album “This Is Only A Test,” the Popes brandished guitars and stomped as hard as their Chuck Taylors would allow, speeding through each three-minute tune without pausing for so much as a “thank you ma’am.” Somewhat incredulously, there was a short acoustic set (“Megan”), a showcase of the much-discussed vocal stylings of Caterer the Lead Singer. I’ve pinpointed his technique: a mash-up of Morrissey and John Linnell of They Might Be Giants.

An encore provided us with crowd-pleasers like “Need You Around,” which you may remember from the “Clueless” soundtrack if you were ever a teenage girl in the ’90s. It’s music made for a mixtape but it sounds even better live, bobbing your head along with the person who will break your heart later.

Posted by | March 17, 2012 | Concerts | Comment 

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