38 -- David Cook -- Saturday, March 28, 2009 -- William and Mary -- Williamsburg, VA

I love following American Idol. I recognize, and at times loathe, the fact that the show can be so shallow and cruel, but overall I find it worth it: for the watercooler moments, the live performances, the immediate reactions, and the possibility every season of an authentic rags-to-riches story.

The thing is, my Idol fandom never continues beyond the finale. I passionately support a contestant the whole season, but once the confetti falls, I’m done. I don’t follow the tour; I don’t buy his or her record; I move on.

David Cook changed that. He scheduled a William and Mary concert on his tour, and I had planned on spending a spring weekend in Williamsburg, so I went. I had more interest in seeing him than, say, Melinda Doolittle or Elliot Yamin – my two other Idol underdogs – because his style is closer to rock, a genre more appealing to me than Motown or R&B. I was also curious to see if he stayed true to his rock roots on his debut album and if he had as much stage presence live as he did on the show.]





The answer to the first question, the album question, was “sometimes.” “Bar-ba-sol” unquestionably rocks, incorporating grungy guitar, thumping bass, and an utter lack of Archuleta. “Kiss on the Neck” is not as ambitious, but does have some nice hard rock riffs. “Mr. Sensitive” is less soft that it title implies, driving through its chorus with remarkable force. The way he powers up at each “I” and each “one” is impressive. He uses a similar propulsion technique in “Declaration.” The weakest tracks are “Heroes,” “Life on the Moon,” “Time of My Life,” and “Avalanche.” They don’t quite drip with Idol goo (there are no “This is My Now” moments), but they are pretty processed. “Light On” is processed too, but it sure is catchy. ;)









The answer to the second question (which asked whether he could maintain the strong stage presence he had on the show), was an emphatic “yes.” The main reason he was able to command the stage was his voice. I’ve been surprised by how often I arrive at a concert and find that the vocal is nowhere near as good as on the record (White Stripes, Death Cab, Counting Crows, Foo Fighters). Sometimes, as with Foo Fighters, the band’s instrumentals and charisma make up for it, but it is a definite issue. Cook’s vocals, by contrast, seemed even stronger live. You could hear him subtly inflect all the melodies, swell up at every chorus – it was impressive. In this sense, Idol probably gave him an advantage over other rockers: a nine-week vocal boot camp before picking up an instrument on tour.

David Cook - Billie Jean - Top 10 American Idol 3/25/08
Uploaded by casezille108. - Explore more music videos.

The opening performer, Ryan Star, probably got similar training on his reality show Rock Star Supernova, but he could have benefitted more from kennel training. Initially he seemed interested in all the female fans, panting out brilliant lines like this one to a female English major: “You don’t know English? What did you get on your SATs?” It soon became clear, though, that his strongest object of desire was himself. He caressed each of his arms, made love to the mic stand, stopped and posed mid-song…it was embarrassing.

Cook, fortunately, did not remotely embarrass himself. He came across as confident, not conceited. And his interactions with the crowd were often genuinely funny. Introducing the bitter “Lie,” he asked how many couples were in the audience tonight. After loud applause, he explained, “Yeah, you guys should hang by the tables [outside], ‘cause this song is not for you.” He also described how the band had a lot of trouble playing catch in the muddy Sunken Gardens, insisting William and Mary would receive an invoice for “two ruined shoes.” (Thanks to the Flat Hat for reminding me of those specific anecdotes. ;))

Cook’s final winning p.r. move was arranging for a few lucky fans to meet with him after the show. Thanks to Mike Erickson and Andrew Schmadel, my UCAB connections, I was one of those lucky few! The abrasive production manager warned everyone that there was “no time to mess around” (he also told us to “behave ourselves”!), but I was able to get what I wanted. He took a picture, signed the concert sheet, and mostly importantly, chuckled at my Idol reference. I went up to him, shook his hands, and told him he was ok, but no Taylor Hicks. (Taylor Hicks was the scenery-chewing buffoon who won season five.) Without missing a beat, he replied, “Nope -- no one really is.” I then told him that he had been really good, especially the Van Halen “Hot For Teacher” cover. He graciously pointed to his band members and said, “It’s all them, man. Couldn’t do it without them.” What a guy...

Grade: A-

37 -- Flogging Molly -- Saturday, March 14, 2009 -- RFK Stadium – Washington, DC

Flogging Molly is a whole lot of fun. It does not matter what album you listen to: Swagger, Drunken Lullabies, Within a Mile of Home, or the most recent live one, Whiskey on a Sunday. When you listen, you’re going to get riled up. Lyrically, the song could be as uplifting as “Danny Boy” (many are, haha), but the minute those Irish guitars, fiddles, accordions, and drums start up, you will want to dance.





The problem, sadly, for Flogging Molly was that everything surrounding the music that day sucked. The morning was a monsoon, and scared off two of the people I was supposed to go with. When I arrived at RFK that afternoon, I found that the grounds were a wreck – a soupy river of beer, soda, fries, and mud trickled to your feet as you made your way through the tunnel. I would have been able to stand that – and more – if it hadn’t been for my hands.

As many of you know, I have a condition called Raynaud’s, which causes me to lose all circulation in my hands if it’s remotely damp or cold. So you can imagine that a chilly, drizzly, four-hour festival at the end of winter would cause a great deal of pain. I tried taking my gloves on and off, rubbing them against the warm parts of my body, visiting the refreshing beverage truck (an increase in overall body heat sometimes helps)…but nothing worked. It was miserable. I had not been in such pain since Adam Eckstein and I waited for the train to Munich in January ’06.

The relief I was finally given an hour and a half after arriving came from an unlikely source: a ribs vendor. The guy must have seen me cringing and shivering because he pointed and said, “Come around back.” I didn’t know what he meant at first, but then I could see that there were two flaming racks of ribs at his booth: one in the front to keep warm for customers and another in the back where the ribs were actually cooked. There, he implied, was where I could heat my hands.


















He grew a little concerned when I started stifling shrieks a minute later, but when I explained that it’s worst when the circulation starts to come back, he understood. Soon after, the pain climaxed, and then little by little, it started to subside. White fingers changed to white-purple, white-purple fingers changed to purple-red, and then, miraculously, at long last, purple-red fingers changed to full red! I had new life.

In a movie version of this story, I suppose the vendor would have offered me a free rib when I was done. In real life, though, he didn’t -- and didn’t need to. He saw that I was in pain, and went out of his way to stop it. In my book, that’s still an awesome Samaritan.

If events continued to follow a sappy cinematic playbook, I would have left the vendor, fully rejuvenated, and enjoyed a first-rate Flogging Molly show. Sadly, though, there was still an hour before the show was set to begin. There was still plenty of time to refreeze. I hovered between purple-red and white-purple when Flogging Molly first came on stage, but then the rains came. It went back to full-on white. The band did their damndest to keep the crowd into it – taking multiple song requests, repeatedly thanking the crowd for staying, and repeatedly cursing the miserable weather. And the crowd was into it, even with the numerous storm-caused sound failures. I just could not get that into it as I froze.

Oh well. At least I know to see them at an indoor venue next time they come to DC…

Grade: B

Ben Kweller, Tokyo Police Club, Girl Talk, Modest Mouse

For various, uninteresting reasons, all four of these concerts were cancelled. Tear.

Ben Kweller -- Th, Feb 26 -- 9:30 Club -- DC
Tokyo Police Club -- Th, Feb 26 -- The Black Cat -- DC
Girl Talk -- Fri, Feb 27 -- William & Mary -- Williamsburg, VA
Modest Mouse -- Friday, March 13 -- 9:30 Club -- DC

36 -- Jimmy Eat World -- Tuesday, February 24, 2009 -- 9:30 Club – DC

An entire album straight through! What an intriguing idea! For those of you who read my Ben Folds review and think I’m mocking Folds or Jimmy Eat World, let me assure you: I am not. I think it’s a compelling model that I hope more musicians adopt. Folds’ problem was he gave fans no advance notice and chose an album they could not have heard in the first place – it had not been released! Jimmy Eat World, by contrast, announced well ahead of time that this would be a nostalgia show – they would be performing all of Clarity, a lesser known album from before they hit it big.

The coolest thing about the full album concept was that I could experience three different concerts in one day. First, in school, as I prepared my lessons, I could re-familiarize myself with all the songs, in their designated order. Second, on the car ride to DC, I could listen to a headphone dress rehearsal, an uninterrupted dry run for the live show. And then, finally, at the club, I could hear the music come to life.

Clarity is not the best Jimmy Eat World album (there’s a reason Bleed American is the most popular), but it is the most suited to a full performance. Its first four songs build slowly and are relatively quiet. This makes for a gradual transition. You are out of the headphones, no longer listening to the songs in your car, but you also are not at a raucous public concert. If you close your eyes, as I did midway through the second song, it feels like they are performing for just you. You’ve somehow arranged your own private show.

The other, less egomaniacal reason the opening songs worked so well is they formed a crescendo. Everything built up to “Crush.” Low-key sounds kept rumbling around for fifteen minutes, there was a final triangle twinkle at the end of “A Sunday,” and then it EXPLODED. The first ten seconds of “Crush” were exhilarating: “Faaate is not keep falling…fallllllllling, yeah…” More importantly, these seconds were earned. Everyone’s eyes were opened and everyone started to fist pump not because “Crush” had been a single, but because they could feel that “Crush” had arrived.





The only major disappointment of the show was that they played “Goodbye Sky Harbor.” I know, it would have been rather awkward to play a straight album show and then leave out the last track, but it still would have been wise to do so. With the exception of Eminem’s vile “Kim,” “Goodbye Sky Harbor” is my official least favorite song. It takes one of my favorite genres – the Epic Mood Track – and DESTROYS it by playing a bell for thirteen straight minutes! Like, all you hear is this bleeping bell – and the phrase “dododada” -- for thirteen straight minutes! It’s awful.

They include some swirling electronica for the last two minutes, but that’s no real consolation. It still assaults all other Epic Mood Tracks that went before it. Wilco’s “Spiders” and Death Cab’s “Transatlanticism” are not for everyone. They do require a lot of patience; you certainly could describe them as indulgent. At least, though, they try to do something. At least they include different sounds. At least they’re not “GOODBYE SKY HARBOR”!

Fortunately, even “Goodbye Sky Harbor” could not suck the life out of the show. They finished with two non-Clarity tracks: “Pain” (which is far more pleasurable than “Harbor”) and “Sweetness” (a song which never fails to make me smile). If they decide to include these in a Bleed American show a few years from now, I’ll be the first on line…





Grade: A-

35 -- Kings of Leon -- Thursday, January 29, 2009 – Madison Square Garden -- NYC

I don’t really know what to make of Kings of Leon – or their NYC concert. I like that they’re edgy (more than I can say for The Killers) and accessible (more than I can say for TV on the Radio). I also like there is no awkward, undeveloped quality in their early albums – Youth and Young Manhood / Aha Shaka Heartbreak have just as many engaging songs as Because of the Times / Only by the Night.

The problem is ‘like’ is the word I continually find myself using when describing them. They’re likable, approachable…yet rarely embraceable. My favorite use for them is background music: they’re on whenever I’m reading, typing, or doing laundry. Amusing as the laundry image may be (what young band does not aspire to be the audio someone half hears over an industrial strength drier?!), it is probably a bit unfair. I have gone out of my way to listen to some of their songs (“Crawl,” “The Bucket,” “Use Somebody”) and there were two moments that genuinely moved me during their NYC show.

The first was listening to “Sex on Fire.” It had not been my favorite song beforehand, but seeing the reaction, seeing all of Madison Square Garden literally and figuratively glow at the “fiiiiiiire” part, was impressive. Now I pump up the volume every time I hear it on DC 101.



The second moment truly was exceptional. It was the first time I can think of that a performer actually said something about a specific audience in a specific city…and meant it. Frontman Caleb Followill explained that, for them, “This is it, man. Coming up all our lives, playing bars and small halls, and now, Madison Square Garden. This is it, man.” Sincerity – gets me every time.







Grade: B

34 -- The Killers – Wednesday, January 28, 2009 – The Patriot Center – Fairfax, VA

If I were being entirely objective about it, the Killers would get an “A.” The vocals were solid, the production values were excellent, and the capacity crowd loved every minute.

From my biased perspective, though, I have to go with “A-.” I could hide behind the fact that the palm tree backdrop was awkward or that frontman Brandon Flowers did not seem to have much of a personality. I’ll give the real reason, but admit it’s a bit embarrassing: the show was too mainstream. The audio felt slick, the visuals felt packaged, and the crowd seemed like they had come in the hopes the band could make “Mr. Brightside” sound as good as it did on the season finale of Laguna Beach. I’m aware this whole analysis reeks of indie snobbery, but after two mind-blowing shows the month before, this couldn’t measure up.

That being said, I am still a big Killers fan and thoroughly enjoyed the show. It was great to finally hear “Human,” “All These Things I’ve Done,” and “Somebody Told Me” live – and to spend the whole concert in the company of one Bradford Taylor Howard.











Grade: A-

33 -- Oasis – Saturday, December 18, 2008 – The Patriot Center – Fairfax, VA

“A sane Smashing Pumpkins.”

That’s the comparison that entered my mind early on in the Oasis concert, which featured the surprising success of yet another band I was lukewarm about before the show. Like Smashing Pumpkins, Oasis relied on elaborate instrumentals and trippy color schemes to create a distinctive mood. They looked to stimulate the audience’s mind not their heart rates; they tried to elicit knowing head bobs not emphatic fist pumps. Also like SP, they did not pretend to be best friends with everyone in the crowd. They were occasionally vocal, and always respectful, but did not condescend.

The main difference between the two was that Oasis was mentally stable. They did not send shivers down my spine or conjure images of cannibalism in my brain. They were successful because they knew exactly what they were – psychedelic, not psychotic.









Grade: A

Endnotes: (1) Famous or not, “Champagne Supernova” was the top song. The lighting, melody, atmosphere – superb. (2) I was disappointed that I missed Ryan Adams, the opening band. Check out “You Will Always Be the Same” and “Desire” to find out why.

32 -- AC/DC – Saturday, November 15, 2008 – Verizon Center – Washington, DC

Smashing Pumpkins and AC/DC could both be considered hard rock. The similarities basically end there. Smashing Pumpkins is all about experimentation, variety, and high degree of difficulty. AC/DC is all about consistency, dependability, and the lowest common denominator. Smashing Pumpkins’ darkness is genuine; its frontman is an actual rebel. AC/DC’s rebelliousness feels more like a brand – i.e. we’re the kings of misogyny! Come join in our stupidity!

Even if you hate this mindset, though, and the crowd it attracts, you probably would have loved the show. If you had been at the Verizon Center that Saturday in November, you too would have grinned. You would not have been able to resist the ninety minutes of loud, crude, explosive fun. Guitarist Brian Johnson jumped onto a dangling rope and swung on a giant steel bell during “Hell’s Bells,” guitarist Angus Young spun around on the floor as he powered through a seven-minute solo during “Let There Be Rock,” and all band members courageously played on as literal fireballs and cannonballs went off throughout the show! So, you know, a tender acapella performance.

In the end, I don’t see myself attending monster truck rallies any time soon, but it’s good to know I can occasionally enjoy the musical equivalent.





Grade: A-

31 -- Smashing Pumpkins -- Tuesday, November 11, 2008 – DAR Constitution Hall – DC

Rise Against broke all the rules. Smashing Pumpkins re-broke them. The shock with Rise Against had been that I could love a concert even if I did not have a command of all the songs. It had also been groundbreaking because I did not even like a lot of the songs I knew. With Smashing Pumpkins, though, I had a good command of virtually all of the songs, and did not like virtually any of them!

And yet, live, it was magical. Black magic, to be sure, a sinister potion brewed deep inside Billy Corgan’s special circle of Hell…but still magic.

The first thing I noticed when I got to my seat was the blinding light. My seat was to the side of the stage to begin with, never technically a good place to be, and now I had neon bulbs blasting directly into my eye!

And yet, strangely, that was a positive sign. As I tilted my head to avoid a direct blast, I noticed that the colors bent. If I shifted slightly to the left, red beams collided with blue beams. If I shifted slightly to the right, blue collided with green. As I continue to shift and tilt, I noticed more and more intricate combinations. After a few minutes, the thought hit me: I was about to watch a concert through a kaleidoscope!

Once I grew accustomed to the colors schemes, I noticed that the music was just as trippy. It’d veer from jagged guitar to rumbling piano to manic drums and back – often within the same song. The only constant was Corgan’s menacing voice and demonic presence. He’d whisper, shriek, groan, sing in tune – anything to put the audience on edge.

As the show wore on, it seemed as if he was consciously going a step further – trying to alienate certain segments of the crowd. It brought me back to college, studying this guy Antonin Artaud, architect of Theater of Cruelty, who felt that the world had become so distressed and divided, the only way to fairly approach art was to alienate your own audience. I doubt this is exactly what Corgan was going for; Artaud seems like a more pretentious maniac. I do think he was trying to cast off any casual fans, however – i.e. the type that sat one row behind me griping, “What is this? When is he going to play a hit?”

The thing that was bizarre about the whole situation was that I was neither casual nor devoted. I had listened to the band’s entire discography and still hated them! At least with Rise Against, I’d liked an entire album beforehand (Audience of One). With Smashing Pumpkins, it was a limited to one song (“Everlasting Gaze”)! Equally strange was the fact that I’d lambasted Ben Folds a month earlier at the same venue for the reason cited by the guy behind me: “What is he doing? When is he going to play anything known?”

And yet, there I was, having a drug-free out-of-body experience. The performance was just so bold, so different, I didn’t see how anyone with half an imagination could refuse. Blackness would envelop the entire auditorium; then a dozen neon bursts would shine through. Vocally, he’d thrash through five bone-chilling verses and end on a falsetto. The scary part was, the falsetto was more frightening. The three-minute baseline, the five-minute guitar riff, the eleven-minute tribute to Pink Floyd…..it was indulgent, outrageous…and irresistible.





Corgan did not say a word to the audience before, during, or after the encore. He simply came back on, performed three especially Satanic / euphoric songs, and walked off. Some probably considered his behavior profoundly arrogant – especially when he walked off to massive guitar feedback – which seemed designed to drown out audience applause. After months of cookie-cutter concerts, though, I found it inspiring. You get so used to fake band-crowd connections, to forgone-conclusion final songs, that you want someone to go against the grain. You want to leave a concert and revel in the infinite strangeness of it all…

Grade: A+

30 -- The Who -- Monday, November 3, 2008 -- Verizon Center – Washington, DC

Meh. My initial AIM Profile grade was a “B,” so I’ll stick with that, but I don’t remember being particularly impressed. Three main things disappointed me: (1) you could often tell their age, (2) I did not come to the concert strongly connecting with a lot of the songs, and (3) they did not play either of the songs I connected to most.





62-year-old frontman Pete Townshend certainly did not embarrass himself, and could show whippersnappers like Jack Johnson and The New Rockers a few things about performing live. That being said, it did seem like Townshend was going through the motions at times. Because he had been a world renowned rock star for forty years, his version of going through the motions was still engaging…but it didn’t have a lot of urgency. Springsteen takes songs most people have heard twenty times before and makes them new. Townshend simply replayed those songs. The renditions were always competent – but rarely dynamic.

Dropping in obscure songs on a Greatest Hits tour is generally a good idea. It keeps band members fresh and pays respect to true fans. The only problem in this case was that I was not a true fan. I’d gone to the show because they were a seminal group and I loved Tommy, but I certainly did not have a command of all their albums. I prepped as much as I could the week beforehand, but it’s hard to make up for forty years in that amount of time. ;)

Considering they had forty years of songs to choose from, it was understandable they could not pick everyone’s favorites. But why couldn’t they play “Slip Kid”?! And “Christmas”?! These songs had the best beats of any I heard in Europe. “Slip Kid”’s flicked back and forth according to the zigs and zags in the young rascal’s life. “Christmas”’s relied on an extreme turn two minutes into song, shifting from a sappy family celebration…to a fearful search for young Tommy, referenced in the songs before. Couldn’t they have played at least one of them? Oh, well, at least I got “Pinball Wizard” and “Baba O’Reilly” – and first-rate versions at that.





Grade: B