cleveland rocks, indeed

My good friend Harry and I attended the Rock Hall of Fame Induction Ceremony last night at Public Hall in Cleveland. We scored a pair of free tickets from his friends: fifth row balcony, one section away from the left side of the stage, directly overlooking the two front tables where Metallica and their families were seated. We could see Joe Perry, Jimmy Page, and Jeff Beck seated three tables over. Everyone at the floor tables had gifts bags with the Gibson guitar logo printed on them--I saw a couple of guests dig through their bags but couldn't tell what was in them.

The show ran like clockwork, and it was fascinating to see all of the behind-the-scenes stage activity. We could see Wanda Jackson and her husband waiting in the wings as Roseanne Cash gave her induction speech. As the montage films were shown, we could see the stagehands changing the giant album covers behind the two podium areas. Harry pointed out the Marshall half-stacks waiting backstage to be rolled out later for Metallica's performance. We both chuckled as we watched one of Lars Ulrich's sons air-drum to the music on the PA during dinner.

All of the performances were excellent, but my favorites were Jeff Beck and Metallica, by far. As I had hoped, Jason Newsted joined his old bandmates onstage, playing alongside current bassist Robert Trujillo. The five of them cranked out killer versions of Master of Puppets and Enter Sandman. I felt like I was fifteen again, the age I was when I first saw Metallica live at the Variety Theater in Lakewood on the Ride the Lightning tour with WASP and Armored Saint.

Thank you, Suzanne and Rob, for the tickets, and thank you, Harry, for bringing me along for the ride. Awesome night.

the return of the crimson king

62. King Crimson -- Park West, Chicago, August 7, 2008

Last August, Devastator and I drove eight hours to Nashville to see King Crimson as they returned to active duty for a four-city anniversary tour. The above double-disc release is from a concert one week after the Nashville gig, sonic confirmation of why Henry Rollins said that there is Sabbath-heavy and Crimson-heavy. This music pummels you with precision, like a professional boxer.

The highlight of the concert for me is the double drumming, especially on Neurotica and Thela Hun Ginjeet. These two songs sounded cluttered when performed by the double trio formation of Crimson in 1995-96. Not anymore: Pat and Gavin have created rhythm parts that only add power and clarity. I'm a frustrated drummer (thinking of unretiring and buying a drum kit again), so I tend to key in on the drum performances. These guys are kicking my ass in a good way. Intense.

This concert is available as a download-only from the Crimson/DGM site. You can listen to some snippets there too.

the best birthday week ever

My birthday week kicked off on 3/3/09 by having lunch with a dear friend that I hadn't seen for nearly a decade. My favorite part was seeing photos of her beautiful daughters, nieces, and nephew--almost brought tears to these cynical eyes. Thank you, Beth, and I promise to stay in touch.

On 3/5/09 my buddy Harry and I saw Monte Montgomery play a rare solo gig at the Winchester in Lakewood. Do yourself a favor: go to YouTube, and check out some videos of this guy, especially his version of Sara Smile. What an incredible guitarist.

On 3/6/09 I had a small gathering of friends at my house for a pre-birthday celebration. Thank you to all who attended, and thank you for all the great gifts, including the following two additions to the 2009 Countdown/Obsession:

48. Rush -- Retrospective 3
49. Johnny Cash -- Unearthed

3/7/09 was my actual birthday: Lordy, Lordy, Matt is forty (going on thirteen, as a wise-cracking co-worker once observed). Harry and I drove down to Akron to see ukelele virtuoso Jake Shimabukuro at E.J. Thomas Hall. Again, please check him out on YouTube, especially his mind-blowing rendition of While My Guitar Gently Weeps. I picked up a copy of his latest release:

50. Jake Shimabukuro -- Live

I'm still riding high from such a great week. Awesome music, awesome friends. I am a lucky man.

the necks in pittsburgh

Last night I made the two-hour drive from Cleveland to Pittsburgh to see Australian trio The Necks perform at the Andy Warhol Museum on their first-ever North American tour. One word: fanfreakingtastic.

Bassist Lloyd Swanton began the evening's piece with an ascending two-note motif as drummer Tony Buck dragged his sticks across the head of the snare, creating eerie creaks as if emanating from a ghostly pirate ship. Pianist Chris Abrahams joined in after a few minutes with a series of single, tentative notes, like the ping of a submarine's sonar.

Swanton expanded the motif gradually, strumming trills that swelled like waves alongside Abrahams' signature cascades of tightly-grouped arpeggios. Buck slowly added more creeks and squeals from his cymbals, also dragging a small bell across his snare. He would occasionally drag a stick across the bass drumhead, creating a low swell that match the torrent of trills coming from his bandmates.

Swanton switched to bowing his bass rapidly, adding a third note to the motif as Abrahams' waves of notes crested with growing force. Buck began ringing his bell and rolling on his cymbals, increasing in volume, then adding a thunder-like double-bass roll. Soon all three musicians were pounding away, locked in an oceanic groove that kept on growing louder and deeper.

The waves abated slowly as the trio began to bring the volume and tempo down gradually. Swanton returned to strumming and plucking his strings as Abrahams' notes trickled away, diminishing in time with the rattle that Buck was now sweeping across his floor tom in a circular motion, as if creating a whirlpool to draw in all of the swirling notes and overtones of the evening. Finally the rattle slowed to a halt as the last piano notes faded.

The piece lasted between forty-five minutes to an hour, and I was entranced the whole time. I have been listening to the Necks since 1995 and own all fourteen of their albums, so yes, I was extremely psyched for this show, well before the first note. They did not disappoint.

Check out some of the Necks' videos on YouTube. This one is a good place to start.

zappa plays zappa

Last night my friend Anthony and I went to hear Zappa Plays Zappa perform at Cain Park in Cleveland Heights. Both of us were fortunate enough to have seen Frank Zappa in concert three times (twice in 1984, once in 1988), so we were pretty psyched to hear Dweezil pay musical tribute to his dad's vast catalog of songs.

We were not disappointed. Dweezil has assembled a tight and talented group of musicians able to perform Frank's music with accuracy and humor. The special guest for this tour is long-time Zappa guitarist/vocalist Ray White. Ray sang his ass off last night, sounding just as good as he did in '84--highlights for me were his renditions of City of Tiny Lites and The Illinois Enema Bandit. Plus, he played a great solo in Advance Romance, trading bluesy licks with Dweezil.

At the merchandise table I purchased the new Zappa 2-CD set entitled Buffalo, a full concert from 1980. I've listened to the first disc so far: killer guitar solo on Pick Me, I'm Clean. I also bought the Classic Albums DVD that focuses on the making of Overnite Sensation and Apostrophe--this documentary is a must-have for any and all Zappa fans.

On the DVD, Dweezil sits at the mixing desk and isolates various tracks so you can hear all the cool little guitar and keyboard riffs that sometimes go unnoticed. He also play snippets from the sessions that were edited out of the final releases, including more great backing vocals from Tina Turner and the Ikettes. Plus, a full version of Montana shot live onstage at the Roxy in 1973! Buy this now--it is soooo worth the money.

Thanks to Anthony for the ticket, and thanks to Dweezil and band for an excellent night of music. And a special thank you to the Lemon Grass on Lee Road for a very satisfying pre-show Thai meal.

Life is good.

thank you, porcupine tree

Devastator and I made our way to the House of Blues last night to see one of my favorite bands, Porcupine Tree, and once again, we were blown away. We settled into our second-row balcony seats just as opening act 3 was taking the stage. We had never heard of 3 and had no idea what to expect. These guys were stellar: melodic songs, inventive arrangements, and stunning musicianship that was chops-heavy without being masturbatory (including an entertaining duet between the drummer and percussionist). If I hadn't already bought three PT-related discs at the merch table, I would have bought a 3 CD for sure. Their new release comes out in July on Metal Blade--very cool. Check out their Facebook page.

During the break between bands, Devastator and I chatted with the guys seated behind us about PT, surround sound, and other nerdy progboy topics. I had refrained from reading any online setlists so that I would be surprised by the song selection. Soon PT took the stage and kicked into the title track from the new album, Fear of a Blank Planet. They continued to play the album in its entirety--no complaints here, as I dig the new release immensely.

The second half of the show was comprised of older songs, many of which I had never heard performed live before, such as Lightbulb Sun, Drown With Me, and the awesome Sever. Guitarist/vocalist/mainman Steven Wilson wasn't as talkative as at previous shows, but he did seem to be getting into the music and feeding off of the crowd's energy. A woman in the audience gave him a bag of toy trains, so he dedicated the show-closing Trains to her. As the band took their final bows, they clowned around with a bra thrown onstage (a first for any prog show I've been to!) before tossing it back into the crowd.

Damn, Heaven and Hell/Megadeth last week and Porcupine Tree/3 last night--two great concerts in a row. This is a trend I could get used to.

are we not men? we are dio!

Last night Devastator and I went downtown for an evening of metal mayhem with Heaven and Hell, Megadeth, and Machine Head. My ears were still ringing this morning. Machine Head played a twenty-minute set of competent new-school metal, which really isn't my cup of tea. They were tight and actually had guitar solos, but their riffs were more lunkheaded than heavy or catchy, and the gutteral vocals were just plain silly. Oh well, the crowd seemed to like them.

Megadeth were awesome, playing a fierce mixture of old and new songs. The highlights for me were raging versions of Peace Sells and Holy Wars. The audience went apeshit, and Dave Mustaine seemed genuinely surprised and moved by such a rabid response. Many critics have always written Megadeth off as a "poor man's Metallica", but the fans know the real story: Megadeth have stayed true to their metal roots and have never released a steaming turd like St. Anger. Looks like Mustaine may have the last laugh after all.

The last time I saw Ronnie James Dio live was way back in 1985 on the Sacred Heart tour, so I was incredibly psyched to see him reunited with his Black Sabbath bandmates as Heaven and Hell. I was not disappointed, to say the least. Dio has not lost any of his vocal range, sounding just as powerful as he did two decades ago. He moves a little slower onstage these days, but even that works to his advantage, giving every movement a deliberate and confident swagger. The set list drew from the three Dio-era Sabbath albums and also included two new songs from the collection that Rhino Records put out last month. Amazing.

The only downer of the evening? The constant intrusion of beer and t-shirt vendors walking through the crowd hawking their wares during the show. Get the fuck out of my face--this is not a baseball game. If I want a shirt, I will go to the merch stand and buy one. To interrupt my enjoyment of the concert in such a manner is crass and disrespectful to both the audience and the performers, so please take your over-priced plastic beer bottle and stick it up your ass.

progging out like a mofo

Alex, I'll take "Used Prog CD's" for under $10.00:

36. Yes -- Yessongs
37. Yes -- Yesshows
38. Yes -- The Word Is Live

The first two are double-discs, and the third is a triple set. Damn, that's a lot of squiggly Moog solos. I discovered Yes in seventh grade when a friend played me his older brother's copy of Fragile, and another friend let me borrow Close to the Edge. At the time these albums were only about ten years old: to a teenager, though, they were ancient but in a cool, Frodoesque way (nerd alert!). And so began my fascination/obsession with side-long songs, concept albums, meandering solos, and all things prog.

Side note: I last saw Yes live in 2002. During the first half of the concert, the assholes seated behind my brother and I would not stop talking. They had obviously won tickets from the local classic-rock station ($60 seats) and were not interested in the music at all, choosing instead to yammer brainlessly. Finally, I couldn't take it any longer--without turning around, I just bellowed "Man, shut the fuck up!" They remained quiet for the rest of the show. Zack was right: sometimes anger is a gift.

eminence frontman

Devastator and I had our eardrums pounded severely by Ministry and the Revolting Cocks last night at Cleveland's House of Blues (there was another band too, but they were boring and so shall remain nameless). RevCo had a few new touring members, including vocalist Josh Bradford. Nattily dressed in a black tuxedo, Bradford twitched and grimaced comically as the perfect foil to ultra-badass Al Jourgensen and supreme-loon Luc Van Acker.

Too many frontmen these days have nothing to offer, nothing to set them apart from one another. They look the same, scream the same, stomp around the same, all attitude and bluster with no vocal ability or character. Lord, save me from cookie-cutter Tattoos-R-Us spudboys with castrated Cookie-Monster vocals.

Bradford, on the other hand, had character to spare. Much like Jarvis Cocker and the young Elvis Costello, he's a bit nerdy yet extremely confident and compelling with a wry sense of humor. His vocals are elastic, by turns aggressive and self-deprecating. Inventive and slyly subversive, he was fun to watch--what more could you ask of a frontman?

I may write more about the show tomorrow when my ears finally stop ringing. If not, suffice to say that Ministry kicked much ass. Don't believe me? Here's some video from the show.

they came, they played, they pummelled

Devastator and I were aurally assaulted last night by the infamous British noise group Whitehouse. How to describe Whitehouse? Imagine a freight train steaming through a factory. Imagine the hiss of one thousand radiators and the howl of two thousand air raid sirens. Imagine the anger and disgust of a nation screamed through a megaphone three miles wide. Now multiply all that by five. You're getting closer.

Droning, screeching blasts of white noise pounded us until I was convinced my ears no longer worked and all sound was now being absorbed through my sternum. Various internal organs vibrated and churned to hammering pulses of subsonic bass. And throughout this audio barrage, I smiled ear-to-ear at the surreal sight of such mayhem being created by two men who looked like visiting professors from Oxford. Wolves in sheeps' clothing, indeed.

Extreme times require extreme music. Thank you, Whitehouse, and thank you, Devastator, for one sledgehammer of a birthday gift.