Underground Bee

I’d never seen either the Pogues or Shane McGowan in concert before this, and thought I probably never would — certainly not a reunion of McGowan with the rest of the original Pogues. But the impossible happened, and the Pogues played a stirring set of their classic songs March 5 at the Congress Theatre, including almost all of my favorite album of theirs, If I Should Fall From Grace With God (but not “Fairytale of New York.” Too seasonal? No female vocalist?). The band sounded great, and McGowan was – well, McGowan. Slurred singing, just right for the songs. Impossible-to-understand comments between the songs, prompting lots of people to say “huh?” I laughed at McGowan’s drunkenness, then felt bad afterward. It’s really a sad spectacle to see him these days. His face looks like it’s sagging, in the same way as Brian Wilson’s face, though the damage comes from different causes. It was hard to tell how drunk he was, how much of his seeming stupor is just the long-term effects of years of alcoholism. But somehow, he manages to sing all the words (as far as I could tell). And the drunkenness gives the music the reckless quality that it needs. I just read that McGowan may be getting married. I hope he’s in better shape than I fear. He is a true poet.

I like the Autumn Defense, and I especially liked the group’s previous album, Circles. I’m just getting to know the new self-titled disc. So far, it strikes me as nice but a just a little too bland. The Autumn Defense is good in small doses, but induces yawns in album or concert-length quantities. The March 3 Park West show was fine, but too subdued for my tastes. I showed up just in time to catch the Singleman Affair, who repeated their excellent music from last month’s gig at Schubas, this time with some movies and photo collages projected onto screens.

I saw the Nightingales at SXSW a couple of years ago after seeing Jon Langford of the Mekons give them a rave recommendation. They’re a criminally overlooked punk band that’s been around forever. That show at SXSW was pretty impressive, so I didn’t want to miss this rare concert in Chicago, Feb. 28 at the Beat Kitchen. It was another fine set of classically awkward art-punk, with shades of the Fall, Pere Ubu and Wire. Only downside: the meager attendance. Maybe thirty or forty people turned out.

The first act of the night was the Horse’s Ha, a new collaboration between Janet Bean of Freakwater and Eleventh Dream Day with Jim Elkington of the Zincs. It was enchanting folk with lots of jazzy undertones. I’m eager to hear them again. The middle band was Shopping, who played a sloppy and seemingly unrehearsed set. The informality of it gave it some charm, and the punk pop was OK, but sheesh… At one point, the singer announced what song was next and the guitarist said, “I forget. How does that one go?” He wasn’t joking.

See my photos of The Nightingales and The Horse’s Ha.

These are the CDs I’ve reviewed so far in 2007 for Pioneer Press Newspapers. For the purposes of this site, though, I prefer to use a five-star rather than a four-star rating system (or, um five bees?) – there’s just a little more room for differentiation that way.

The template for this “Afrobeat orchestra” out of Brooklyn is obvious – the groundbreaking funky music of Nigeria’s Fela Kuti. But Antibalas (which includes Evanston native Stuart Bogie as musical director) does more than mimic Fela, grooving on long tracks that take Afrobeat in a jazzy direction. The songs are filled with aggressive, in-your-face horn blasts and drumbeats that impel your feet to dance. The jams go on so long that it’s practically an instrumental record. When the vocals come in, they take on political themes, such as a humorous chant speculating on the true meaning of the initials “G.O.P.” Produced in Chicago by John McEntire of Tortoise, “Security” is a more-than-worthy encore to Antibalas’ fabulous 2004 album Who Is This America? www.antibalas.com

Three years after shaking the indie-rock world with the debut album Funeral, Montreal’s Arcade Fire are back with more throbbing, multilayered anthems — and one of the year’s best albums so far. Since 2004, this band (which includes Northwestern grad Will Butler, brother of lead vocalist Win Butler) has catapulted from playing gigs at the Empty Bottle to headlining three nights at the Chicago Theatre and smashing guitars on “Saturday Night Live.” The death theme of the first record is gone, but a mood of angst and dislocation still permeates the songs. On “(Antichrist Television Blues),” Win Butler pleads, “Don’t want to work in a building downtown/No, I don’t want to see when the planes hit the ground.” At first glance, the group seems to have streamlined its quasi-orchestral sound a little on this sophomore album, but then all of its subtleties reveal themselves. And even when it’s gloomy, the tense arrangements and the feeling of catharsis make the record feel a celebration of music’s transformative power. www.arcadefire.com

Listening to the Autumn Defense, a band featuring two members of Wilco, John Stirratt and Pat Sansone, reminds one of Chuck Mangione’s appearance on the cartoon “King of the Hill,” when he exhorted an audience: “Let’s soft rock!” Stirratt and Sansone appear to be angling to become a new Seals and Croft or Bread. Their last album, Circles, had several superb songs, and this one has its share of pleasant moments, and more of a jazzy vibe. But it’s all a little too pleasant. If they sang with more grit in their voices or cranked up their amps past 3 once in a while, it would make the pleasantness more bearable. www.theautumndefense.com

The Broken West hails from California, and there’s definitely something sunny about the band’s West Coast sound. One of the latest groups to sign to the Merge label, the Broken West (formerly known as the Brokedown) plays catchy pop filled with jangly guitar riffs, melodic hooks that hearken back to the ‘60s and appealing vocal harmonies. At moments, the band sounds like Wilco, back in the era of Summerteeth, which is not a bad thing at all. www.myspace.com/thebrokenwest

A truly independent indie-rock band, these Brooklynites are proving they aren’t sell-outs. After winning the adoration of blogs everywhere with their debut, they’ve put out their second record without bothering to sign with a label. Clap Your Hands did hire a respected producer, David Fridmann (Mercury Rev, Sleater-Kinney), but the band is refusing to get rid of all the quirks that could make its music just a little annoying to listeners of mainstream pop. The opening track is deliberately noisy, like a badly recorded demo. That’s not to say that Clap Your Hands is always abrasive. The songs have plenty of hooks to pull you in, with odd rhythms, enigmatic lyrics and Alec Ounsworth’s very David Byrne-esque vocals. The group hasn’t quite moved beyond its Talking Heads fixation, but when it all clicks, it’s a bracing combination. www.clapyourhandssayyeah.com

Clinic first attracted the attention of critics a few years ago, partly because of the unusual concert garb worn by these Liverpudlians: surgical masks. They’re still concealing their faces, which makes it impossible to see what expressions they’re wearing, but it’s easy to imagine lead singer Ade Blackburn sneering or clenching his teeth as he delivers these tunes. The atmosphere is tense and gloomy, likely to put you in the same sort of mood you experience listening to Joy Division, but Clinic is also sounding more like a scrappy garage band these days. “Visitations” is the ominous sound of fuzzy ’60s psychedelia melding with doomsday ’80s New Wave. It’s a strong combination. www.clinicvoot.org

There’s an everyman quality to Dolly Varden’s mature pop music. The melodies and singing might seem a little plain at first, like songs that anyone could imagine singing themselves, but they’re filled with subtle touches that keep you coming back for more listens. Led by the husband-and-wife singer-songwriters Steve Dawson and Diane Christiansen, this Chicago band hasn’t put out an album for five years. This one ranks among its best, with Dawson and Christiansen swapping lead vocals on the emotionally affecting songs. The only disappointment is that Christiansen wrote only one track this time (it’s one of the best, “Small Pockets”), ceding most of the composing duties to her more prolific husband. Still, it sounds like a true group effort. www.dollyvarden.com

Hailing from the Pacific Northwest, Dolorean already has a couple of fine albums to its credit, including 2004’s excellent “Violence in the Snowy Fields.” Singer-songwriter Al James has a soft, sweet vocal quality that brings James Taylor to mind, but this album’s unusual atmospherics are in another universe entirely. Like previous Dolorean records, this album has a melancholy tinge. Ranging from fairly straightforward acoustic ballads to artsy tracks built around rhythms or moody keyboards, “You Can’t Win” has a loose vibe, like a live recording from a restrained private performance. James’ words are heartfelt and direct, and his melodies stick in the mind. http://dolorean.wordpress.com/

Chicago’s Rob Mazurek brought together this 14-musician jazz ensemble for a concert last summer at Millennium Park. Even though it lacks lyrics, the orchestra’s debut album supposedly tells stories about stingrays becoming stars and people talking with intelligent electric eels. The music is colorful, varied and – despite the “avant-garde” label – very listenable. The record opens with a pulsing sense of urgency. Eventually, it meanders into some noodling, but most of it’s pretty compelling, whatever stories you imagine when you’re listening. www.thrilljockey.com

It’s not surprising that Field Music bears some resemblance to the Futureheads, since both bands hail from Sunderland, England. Field Music also includes the Futureheads’ original drummer, and it’s clear that both groups have plenty of XTC in their musical DNA. Less abrasive than the Futureheads, Field Music specializes in rhythms and melodies with unexpectedly jerky stops and starts, but the assured vocal harmonies give it all an elegance that’s lacking from most new wave revivalism. Tones of Town is consistently enjoyable..www.field-music.co.uk

Instead of being billed for what it is – a pretty good solo album by Blur and Gorillaz leader Damon Albarn – this record comes with the “supergroup” label. Albarn teamed up with producer Danger Mouse of Gnarls Barkley fame, Clash bassist Paul Simonon, Verve guitarist Simon Tong and Fela Kuti drummer extraordinaire Tony Allen for this project, but he dominates every track with his typically wistful Brit pop lullabies. Albarn’s an expert at concocting pretty and very English-sounding “Oh, woe is me” melodies, and he does it again here. It’s just a shame that the Good, the Bad and the Queen doesn’t live up to its full potential. www.thegodthebadandthequeen.com

The sound of Menomena is hard to place – it’s not that far removed from radio-friendly emo rock, but it also contains more than a little bit of art rock, even some Kurt Weill cabaret and sonic touches reminiscent of Mercury Rev. While there’s plenty of guitar, a percussive combination of piano and drums is central to Menomena’s sound. When the vocals reach their peaks of intensity, there’s a sense of real drama. www.menomena.com

Like the Postal Service, Of Montreal is an indie-rock band that requires a certain tolerance of techno pop and new wave. At times, you may forget that you’re listening to a band that’s supposed to be hip in 2006 and think you’re experiencing an early ’80s flashback. At times, the ornate layers of beeping noise are grating, but singer Kevin Barnes comes up with better-than-average turns of phrase, as the album’s peculiar title indicates. www.ofmontreal.net

Basically a one-man band, the One AM Radio is Hrishikesh Hirway, who used to be a punk rocker before he mellowed out. Now he’s playing soft and melancholy folk rock, with the occasional woodwind solo or electronic drum beat giving it an artsy veneer. It makes for a pretty sonic tapestry. www.theoneamradio.com

You may not realize just how ornate the Shins’ songs are until you read the lyrics sheet, which is filled with references to things like “the android’s conundrum” and “this wily comet tale.” The words fit perfectly with Shins singer-songwriter James Mercer’s serpentine melodies, and it all comes together in a way that sounds so natural – as if Mercer is spinning out these incredibly elaborate psychedelic pop tunes with the greatest of ease. Mercer’s distinctive voice hits all the high notes with a strong sense of yearning. The Shins haven’t radically changed their formula on Wincing the Night Away, their third album, though a few of the sonic touches are new. It’s an album with one strong track after another, making for addictive listening. www.theshins.com

Jesse Sykes has one of those husky chanteuse voices that always sound mournful. Maybe it’s just not possible for her to sing a happy tune. On her new album, clean guitar lines and gently brushed drums create a moody atmosphere for Sykes to sing her songs of sad lovers and dying prisoners. As on Sykes’ previous album, Oh, My Girl, the tracks tend to sound similar at first, but they distinguish themselves on repeat listens. Even the more upbeat tracks, such as the rocker “You Might Walk Away,” have a downbeat quality. With their subtle melodies, these songs make for some good and spooky late-night listening. www.jessesykes.com

Lincoln Park resident David Vandervelde plays virtually all of the instruments on his debut, with a little help from ex-Wilco member Jay Bennett. The sound is straight out of the ’70s – reverb-drenched, heavily layered power pop with Badfinger-esque melodies and some T. Rex swagger. Just eight tracks long, this charming throwback of an album leaves you wanting more. www.davidvandervelde.com

Yes, I know that Malajube was not the headline act at this show, Feb. 23 at the Beat Kitchen – that would be Snowden – but Malajube was my reason for going, and the concert confirmed my belief in this French-Canadian band. Malajube blew Snowden off the stage. Not that Snowden was bad. A little on the boring side, perhaps, but that’s just my take on their music. Malajube, on the other hand, was powerful, with some loud, frenetic guitar playing in the midst of fairly tricky songs. I love their album from last year, Trompe L’Oeil, and the songs really came alive on stage. Unlike some of the other hot bands from Montreal, these guys actually sing in French. And they had a snarky attitude in their stage banter, joking about ignorant Americans. Or was it a joke? The first act of the night, Aleks and the Drummer, was pretty good, though the keyboards-and-drums thing got tiresome after a while.

PHOTOGRAPHIC NOTES: The stage was very dimly lit during Malajube’s set, making it virtually impossible to get any usable shots without flash. And so I flashed away… Good thing I got my flash fixed earlier this week.

See my photos of Malajube, Snowden and Aleks and the Drummer.

The Annuals are one of those bands getting buzz on blogs. I’ve only had a chance to hear their album a few times streaming it online, and it struck me as pretty good, didn’t blow me away. Their live show last night, though, was damn good. Two keyboard setups right up front, with lots of percussion and passion. I like all these new bands (inlcuding the Arcade Fire, of course, but also British Sea Power and others) though go beyond the standard one-drummer arrangement. Annuals had a second drum set that one of the guitarists used from time to time, plus the lead singer did his own crazy drumming thing at various times (see photos…)

Another band from the Carolinas, the Never, put on a decent opening set. I’m not familiar at all with their music, which had some elements of art rock and light pop. There were a number of Never fans in the crowd singing along. I should be nice about Canasta, since they’re the hometown band, so I’ll just say I’ve never really gotten into Canasta’s music. Not my thing, exactly, but it was a fairly fun performance, complete with some trombone solos.

See my photos of Annuals, Canasta and the Never.

I was hoping to see both Sparklehorse and the opening act, Jesse Sykes & the Sweet Hereafter, last night, but I showed up too late for Sykes. Nevertheless, it was a good night, with Sparklehorse performing some of the excellent songs after last year’s album Dreamt for Light Years in the Belly of a Mountain (that one grew on me…) as well as some older songs. If I can find any fault with the set, it was that it was simply too short.

See my photos of Sparklehorse.

This was one of the concerts I’ve been anticipating the most in early 2007, ever since the 2006 Midlake album The Trials of Van Occupanther became an audio obssession of mine. It’s a fantastic record, with so many subtle layers. I’d seen Midlake once before, at SXSW in 2005, which was a pretty good show but abbreviated by technical difficulties. And as much as I liked the album Midlake was supporting then, Bamnan and Silvercork, the new one’s better. I also saw Midlake for about one song at Lollapalooza, but that doesn’t really count. After selling out one show at Schubas, Midlake added an early set, which sold out, too. There’s a lot more buzz about this group now than there was when the tickets for the first show went on sale in, what, December?

It was a good performance, great at times, though as I recall from the last show, Midlake seems like more of an intellectual band than an emotional one in concert. There are plenty of emotions in the lyrics and singer Tim Smith expresses them well, but the band isn’t exactly an exuberant bunch onstage. But these are great musicians, and it’s a joy to hear them playing their sophisticated arrangements of these songs. Get this – four of the five musicians had keyboard setups. Even the bassist and guitarist play keyboards at times. And all five of them sang harmonies at various points. So even though this is very much Smith’s group as far as the songwriting and singing goes, it’s far from being one of those one-man projects masquerading as bands. This is a group of musicians who really know how to mesh their talents together into a cohesive whole.

It was nice to hear a few Bamnan songs along with most of Van Occupanther, plus a new song titled “Children of the Ground.” I have a feeling Midlake will be playing at a bigger venue the next time they come through Chicago.

The opening act was a young woman, also from Texas, calling herself St. Vincent, who played a solo set with some nice Jeff Buckley-eseque songs and really engaging stage banter. I liked what I heard (and saw…)

See my photos of Midlake and St. Vincent.

It’s always a kick to see the 1900s, one of Chicago’s best pop bands. They’re finishing up work on a new album, preparing for a trip to SXSW, looking for a record label … I think the rest of the world will be hearing more from them soon. They’re the featured band in the “Practice Space” shows on Mondays this month at Schubas. Last night’s show featured two noteworthy opening acts, so it was the week I chose to see the 1900s. First up was Spires That in the Sunset Rise – an odd pairing with the 1900s, truth be told. The three young ladies in Spires make an atonal racket on banjos, guitars, thumb pianos and assorted instruments that look like they were rescued out of the dumpster behind an opium den. I like Spires, though it’s a band best taken in small doses, and I got the feeling that some of the more pop-oriented audience members were left scratching their heads at all of the meditative moaning.

The Singleman Affair was the middle act. I’ve been wanting to see this guy – or rather, band – since hearing the excellent 2006 album Let’s Kill the Summer. I didn’t even realize at first that this is a Chicago artist. His/their profile in Chicago is pretty low at the moment, and it doesn’t seem like the Singleman Affair plays a whole lot of concerts. I was expecting a solo performer doing quiet acoustic music, but Singleman’s single man, Dan Schneider, has expanded to include five backing musicians. And the live performance really brought out the power of the songs, with a lot more impassioned, ballsy singing and intense guitar solos than I’d expected. Schneider has a great voice, capable of hitting some rich, deep notes. I was very impressed with this set, can’t wait to hear more from the Singleman Affair.

The 1900s were great, too, playing several of their new songs and a few choice tracks off last year’s EP Plume Delivery. Guitarist Edward Anderson really let loose on a couple of the guitar solos, and as always, singers Jeanine O’Toole and Caroline Donovan, were lovely to see and hear. (But could Schubas turn the lighting up a notch or two, PLEASE?)

See my photos of the 1900s, the Singleman Affair and Spires That in the Sunset Rise.

The votes are in, and the Village Voice’s Pazz and Jop poll for 2006 declares the winner for 2006 … Bob Dylan. No big surprise. I had predicted Dylan would win the poll a while back, but then as I saw many magazines picking TV on the Radio for No. 1, I began to think that group might eclipse Dylan. TV on the Radio won the Idolator Web site’s new poll (an upstart rival to Pazz and Jop). Dylan ended up narrowly defeating TV on the Radio in a very close finish – which probably goes to show that Pazz and Jop has an older demographic of voters than Idolator. Click here to see the Pazz and Jop survey. I’m glad to see I did my part to put Neko Case, Gnarls Barkley and Tom Waits in the top 10. The Gnarls boys, however, didn’t really need my help in their runaway win for the single of the year, “Crazy.” (That picture up above is an illustration by David O’Keefe from the Voice’s Web site.)

ADDED NOTE (2/10/07): Holy cow! I just realized that the race between Bob Dylan and TV on the Radio was so tight that I alone could have tipped the balance. In fact, I thought about putting TV on the Radio in my top 10, but it just barely missed the cut. (I liked the Dylan record, but not enough to make it a contender.) If I had put TV on the Radio on my list and given it at least 15 points (voters are allowed to give each record from 5 to 30 points), that would have put it over the top. Take about the power of one vote!

The poll’s top ten albums are:
1. Bob Dylan, Modern Times – points: 1123(95)
2. TV on the Radio, Return To Cookie Mountain – points: 1109(99)
3. Ghostface Killah, Fishscale – points: 1031(96)
4. The Hold Steady, Boys and Girls in America – points: 983(81)
5. Gnarls Barkley, St. Elsewhere – points: 791(71)
6. Arctic Monkeys, Whatever People Say I Am, That’s What I’m Not – points: 718(63)
7. Clipse, Hell Hath No Fury – points: 673(63)
8. Neko Case, Fox Confessor Brings the Flood – points: 645(64)
9. Joanna Newsom, Ys – points: 626(59)
10. Tom Waits, Orphans: Brawlers, Bawlers & Bastards – points: 608(51)

The poll’s top ten singles are:
1. Gnarls Barkley, “Crazy” – points: 151
2. T.I., “What You Know” – points: 55
3. Christina Aguilera, “Ain’t No Other Man” – points: 54
4. Justin Timberlake featuring T.I., “My Love” – points: 53
5. The Raconteurs, “Steady, As She Goes” – points: 43
6. Nelly Furtado featuring Timbaland, “Promiscuous” – points: 41
7. Justin Timberlake, “Sexyback” – points: 38
8. Dixie Chicks, “Not Ready To Make Nice” – points: 34
9. (tie) Lupe Fiasco, “Kick, Push” – points: 32
Arctic Monkeys, “I Bet You Look Good on the Dancefloor” – points: 32

You can see my Pazz and Jop ballot here. Here’s how my albums and singles finished in the poll.

1. Neko Case, Fox Confessor Brings the Flood – Finished at No. 8 in the poll
2. My Brightest Diamond, Bring Me the Workhorse – Finished at 252
3. Midlake, The Trials Of Van Occupanther – Finished at 46
4. Tom Waits, Orphans: Brawlers, Bawlers & Bastards – Finished at 10
5. Gnarls Barkley, St. Elsewhere – Finished at 5
6. M. Ward, Post War – Finished at 54
7. Bat for Lashes, Fur and Gold – Finished at 1280 (I was the only critic who voted for it)
8. Band of Horses, Everything All the Time – Finished at 23
9. Sonic Youth, Rather Ripped – Finished at 12
10. Bonnie “Prince” Billy, The Letting Go – Finished at 102

Singles
1. Gnarls Barkley, “Crazy” – Finished at No. 1 in the poll
2. TV on the Radio, “Wolf Like Me” – Finished at 13
3. Neko Case, “Hold On, Hold On” – Finished at 73
4. M. Ward, “Chinese Translation” – Finished at 223
5. Belle and Sebastian, “Another Sunny Day” – Finished at 91
6. Cat Power, “The Greatest” – Finished at 27
7. Kelley Stoltz, “Ever Thought of Coming Back” – Finished at 384 (I was the only critic who voted for it)
8. Oneida, “Up with People” – Finished at 153
9. The Raconteurs, “Steady, As She Goes” – Finished at 5
10. Portastatic, “You Blanks” – Finished at 384 (I was the only critic who voted for it)

…And here are some of my thoughts on the past year in music. (This is an essay I submitted to the Village Voice along with my ballot. It did not make it into print there, so here it is…)

When 2006 was just a few days old, Jon Langford talked with me about music, death and music about death. Langford, the Welsh punk who somehow became the reigning king of Chicago’s alt-country scene, was a little paint-spattered from a morning of making art as he sat down for a lunch at a café that was mostly populated by moms and toddlers. I asked him why murder ballads had once been so common.

“I think it’s kind of liberating for people,” he said. “Pop music struggled with and eventually rejected it. And now pop music’s essentially sanitized to the point where there’s no drinking, cheating or killing songs on country radio – although the movies are full of fantasy, death and violence. A lot of those folk songs were talking about real events. Maybe society is censoring itself. The mainstream cannot deal with this material anymore.”

Langford’s right as far as mainstream country music goes, although there’s more than enough violence in hip-hop lyrics. But while plenty of pop culture is sanitized for our protection, the wildest music out past the frontiers of the mainstream no longer seems as distant as it did a few years ago.

The revolution that the music industry’s been bracing for is happening now. Even as Langford sings about “The Death of Country Music,” the possibilities for new kinds of music being made – and actually heard by substantial audiences – feel limitless. Greil Marcus once wrote about a bygone era of folk music as “The Old, Weird America.” That epoch will never return, but we’re entering a new, weird America.

It still often feels like we’re being told what sort of music we should like, whether it’s a pop-up ad from a record label or some anonymous blogger who’s telling us. But there’s a lot more music, a lot more people weighing in on what’s cool, and a lot more places where you can download the tunes.

Pop music and that amorphous subset of pop called indie rock still flit from one fad to another, but there’s a new sense that anything goes. The entire past is fair game for musical influences. That means everything from creaky old murder ballads to the squarest of lounge music to the bombast of ’70s arena rock. Musicians no longer need worry about being laughed off the stage for playing a melodica. Can a comeback for the hurdy-gurdy or a polka revival be far behind?

In the old stereotypes of demographic profiles, teens and twentysomethings wanted their music loud and bouncy. Give the kids some candy. Now, youthful crowds listen and watch with rapt attention as Joanna Newsom, a singer with a freaky voice, plucks her harp and spins twenty-minute literary epics or an orchestra plays sophisticated string arrangements behind the soft sounds of Sufjan Stevens. Audiences are embracing the quietest of music along with the loudest, solo guys and gals quietly streaming their guitars as well as huge, sprawling ensembles that call themselves collectives rather than bands.

It’s cheap now to record your own music and distribute it, so there’s a glut. A lot of crap, but a lot of great music, too. The two most telling sound bites from the 2006 South By Southwest Music Conference were diametrically opposed comments about the proliferation of musical acts. Morrissey remarked, “Most music we don’t react to, because it’s dreadful. I think maybe there’s too many people making music.” Meanwhile, singer Eddie Argos gleefully asked the audience at a concert by his band, Art Brut: “Are you in a band?” I’ll go with Argos on this one. The more, the merrier.

And the more music, the more weird music there is. The weirdest is still too offbeat to get much airplay, but no one with a high-speed Internet connection needs to feel restricted to using an old-fashioned radio or buying CDs at Wal-Mart.

As 2006 came to an end, I interviewed the legendary Chicago blues guitarist Buddy Guy. He reminisced about Chicago in the 1950s, when some blocks had blues clubs and record stores at almost every other address. He complained about today’s radio stations playing the same short list of pop tunes by superstars over and over.

“It’s like, I don’t know what your favorite meal is, but if they give it to you every day for six weeks, sooner or later, you’re going to say, ‘Buddy Guy, bring me some of them red beans and rice. I’m tired of this turkey.’ So that’s what time it is now. When we had all the AM stations, you could make a record and take it up to a disc jockey who had the right to play it. Now days, you’ve got program directors that give the disc jockey the records to play, and they’d better not play nothing than what they was told to play.”

Like Langford, Guy is right – up to a point. It’s been turkey time for too long on corporate mainstream radio. And yet, there’s a whole new world out there, with satellite radio station and Web sites where you can hear all sorts of music. The old days are gone, but we’re entering a time when you can once again hand your record to the DJ with some hope of getting it played – except that it’s an mp3 file and you’re sending it to a blog.

David Vandervelde is a talent to watch, an exciting young musician who does it all – plays just about every instrument on his debut album, “The Moonstation House Band,” just out on Secretly Canadian. After recording the record at Jay Bennett’s studio, Vandervelde created an actual band to play the fictious band in the album title, and the group played last night at Schubas. It was a good set, albeit a little too short. Vandervelde played several of the great songs off his album (think T. Rex meets Badfinger) as well as a Phil Ochs cover and a couple of unreleased songs – with one great Crazy Horse-ish jam. See my photos of David Vandervelde.

As a big fan of M. Ward, I found myself torn when I try to decide which is better – Ward performing a solo concert, or Ward playing with a full band. His concert at Metro in September featured a full backing group – with two drummers, even – and the show rocked with a great, loose vibe. Last night, Ward was back in town, playing by himself this time. What’s interesting is that Ward holds back a little bit on his guitar virtuosity when he’s with the band. Yes, he does some fantastic work on the guitar (mostly electric when he’s with the band), but he also lets the other musicians do their stuff and takes his hands completely off the fret board at times when he’s singing. I was pleased to see a Yamaha grand piano sitting on the stage as I walked into the Park West last night. Seeing Ward play a few songs on piano at a 2004 solo concert at Schubas was memorable – this guy is a pretty good piano player in addition to being a master of fingerstyle guitar.

The opening act was Freakwater, and their backwoods old-time country harmonies sounded great drenched in reverb on the Park West sound system. I’d seen one other Freakwater performance that fell a little flat in a noisy bar with a subpar sound system; Janet Bean and Catherine Irwin sounded so much better last night.

Playing the same, worn-looking Gibson acoustic guitar he’s been touring with since the first time I saw him, Ward walked out and without a word of introduction began playing one of his signature songs, the instrumental guitar showcase “Duet for Guitars No. 2.” (Not actually a duet, obviously.) I like the way Ward combines intricate picking with loud strumming – and does it all in a very loose style that sometimes rushes or slows down the beat. Ward followed “Duet” with the first single off his 2006 album, “Chinese Translation,” another great guitar song. Then came a song I wasn’t familiar with, “Lonesome Me.”

Ward moved over to the piano for “Here Comes the Sun Again,” then he talked about his song “Today’s Undertaking” and how it’s a “rip-off” of Roy Orbison’s “In Dreams.” He played about half of the Orbison song, playing just chords with his left hand while holding the microphone in his right. Then he played “Today’s Undertaking” in the same, spare style. I don’t think the songs are really THAT similar, but I do see a common thread running through them. “Today’s Undertaking” is a great example of a song that might go by the first first few times you hear it, but then when you hear Ward doing it live, what had seemed like a slight song suddenly seems so much deeper.

After playing “Poor Boy, Minor Key,” Ward went back to guitar for one of his oldies, “O’Brien,” followed by “Out of My Head,” “Poison Cup” and “Magic Trick.” Then came a strange interlude where Ward left the stage and played the “video” he directed for “To Go Home,” which is basically just a series of credits that rolls while the song plays. He went back to the piano for another Daniel Johnston song, the haunting “Story of an Artist,” then back to guitar for “Sad Sad Song” and “Undertaker.” The encore was “Carolina,” “Let’s Dance” and “Rollercoaster.” Ward asked for a piano player in the audence to come onstage for that song, and a young guy complied. Ward showed him that song’s little bluesy piano part, and the guy played it well. And strangely enough, the concert ended with Ward leaving the stage as a loop of his guitar part continued playing and the guest pianist continued noodling on the keys for a few minutes.

The Last Town Chorus (which is, pretty much, Megan Hickey) was one of the acts that impressed me at SXSW in 2005. (See my photos from that gig.) Ever since, I’ve been waiting for them/her to put out a second album. The wait is almost over. The sophomore record’s not out just yet, but the Last Town Chorus came through Chicago last night for a searing set of Hickey’s wailing lap steel guitar solos and matching vocals. She’s an odd talent, not easily fitting into any musical category. Folk blues describes it as well as anything, I suppose, but there’s something else in her spooky, almost gothic music. And did I mention that she’s gorgeous, too? Her set included a cover of David Bowie’s “Modern Love,” which will be on the new album.

The opening act (and the reason why some people showed up at all) was former Jayhawks drummer Tim O’Reagan, who put out a solo record last year. His music is nothing remarkable, but that’s almost part of the point about it. It’s the folk/alt-country equivalent of comfort food, good sturdy fare, nothing that’s going to knock you out of your seat, but you’ll be comfortable listening to it in any case.
See my photos of the Last Town Chorus and Tim O’Reagan.

This was the first fado concert I’d ever seen. Fado is a traditional style of folk song in Portugal, and Ana Moura is one of the best-known of the young fado singers. The music was new to me in this concert Jan. 25 at the HotHouse, but I found it all very lovely, with really nice vocals and accompaniment on classical guitar, acoustic bass and the mysterious instrument known as the Portuguese guitar, which has doubled strings, an open back and a tinkly sound reminiscent of the bazouki or mandolin. Moura was quick to smile, clearly enjoying herself as she sang and struck poses like a dancer. Her set included a cover of the Rolling Stones’ “No Expectations.”
See my photos of Ana Moura.

The Chicago trio Pit er Pat makes some groovy, spacy sounds with keyboard, bass, drums and cool female vocals. Remind me a little bit of Broadcast, a little bit of Oneida. The group’s playing Monday nights throughout January at Schubas. I caught the Jan. 22 show and reviewed it for Spin.com (See my review). The first opening act this week were Matthea Baim, who played slow, moaning songs with backing help from some of the Pit er Pat guys, a couple of female singers and Rob “Lichens” Lowe. It was eerie and enchanting. Playing second, Lichens was even more eerie, with Lowe performing another one of his tape-loop, one-chord drones, building from bird sounds into high-pitched beautiful shrieks. He never paused, and never really finished his set – as he was playing, Pit er Pat came onstage and began playing with him, then he left as they continued. The audience finally got a chance to applaud as Lowe stood off a ways from the stage. Pit er Pat was excellent, even more impressive than they are on record.
See my photos of Pit er Pat.

See my photos of Matthea Baim.

See my photos of Lichens.

I was shocked to hear the Buzzcocks song “Everybody’s Happy Nowadays” last night, playing in the background of a commercial for … the AARP?!? I mean, the original punk rockers are getting pretty old, but it’s still pretty peculiar to hear this kind of music being used in that context. There are plenty of other Buzzcocks songs that might work well with commercials aimed at the senior-citizen crowd, including “Why Can’t I Touch It?,” “Noise Annoys,” “Just Lust,” “Orgasm Addict” and “Oh Shit!”

Somehow, I’ve missed seeing Buddy Guy play at his own club, Buddy Guy’s Legends, for all these years. And now, the club soon become history. I believe I was the first journalist to report that Guy is losing his lease and possibly closing the club for good — or at least moving — with this Dec. 24 interview in the Daily Southtown. It was a blast talking with Guy.

I caught Guy’s concert at his club on Saturday, Jan. 20, just one of 14 shows he is playing in January. He’s still amazingly spry for his age, so I suspect we’ve got many years of Guy music to come. And this guy still knows how to wring some intense, powerful notes out of his guitar. As always, Guy ventured out in the audience and out onto the street with his cordless guitar. He tossed some Hendrix (“Voodoo Chile”) and Cream (“Strange Brew”) into his set, paying tribute to these artists who were influenced by Guy many years ago. The crowd ate it up.

Incidentally, after the rest of media started reporting on the apparently imminent closing of Legends, the landlord, Columbia College, issued this press release on Jan. 9: “Chicago, IL — Mark Twain once remarked that news stories about his own death were ‘greatly exaggerated.’ So, too, are news reports about Buddy Guy’s being evicted from his “Legends” club in Chicago’s South Loop. While it is true that Mr. Guy’s lease on his current location ends in May, Columbia College Chicago, which owns the property, has taken no steps to force his immediate relocation. In fact, the college is prepared to maintain flexibility as ‘landlord’ – but not indefinitely. When Columbia acquired the property in 1999, plans were announced to construct a campus center on that particular parcel. Intended use of the site is no surprise to Mr. Guy. That intent was reinforced when the current lease was negotiated two years ago. As has been indicated in the past, the college is willing to talk with Mr. Guy about continuing to rent the facility to Legends until a timetable for new construction is identified.”

Back in December, a Columbia spokeswoman had told me the college wanted Guy to vacate the space when his lease was up, though the college was willing to be flexible and give him some additional time before he left. With the new press release emphasizing Columbia’s willingness to talk, I wonder if the college is backing off? In any case, I do hope Buddy Guy’s Legends survives, either at this location or elsewhere.

Click here or on the above picture to see my photos of Buddy Guy and opening act Carl Weathersby. (I wasn’t able to get too close to the stage at the crowded club on Saturday, so I’m not too thrilled with the pictures I took, but at least they prove I was there.)

Ron Sexsmith is a songwriter’s songwriter – someone who seems to be appreciated by other musicians and music buffs more than he is by the general public. I think he was supposed to be the “next big thing” at some point, but as Sexsmith mentioned on Tuesday, he never seems to graduate to venues bigger than Schubas. He said that’s fine with him – he loves playing Schubas. In this show (Jan. 16), he played a number of his great should-have-been-hits, pulling songs from just about all of his records and sounding good despite his complaints about having a cold. (He sipped tea between songs.) Here’s the set list. I’m not sure who drew the cartoon of Sexsmith.

Click here to see my photos of Ron Sexsmith.

Opening act Kim Taylor brought an impressive hush over the room with her solo set, playing spare folk rock with a touch of blues. She seems like a promising act. Her set included a fine cover of the Tom Waits song, “Chocolate Jesus.”

Click here to see my photos of Kim Taylor.

I recently had the chance to interview classical guitarist Pepe Romero. (Read my article for Pioneer Press.) I don’t see classical guitar concerts – or classical concerts, period – nearly as often as I should. Romero’s performance on Saturday, Jan. 13, at Pick-Staiger Concert Hall in Evanston was absolutely astonishing. I’m hard-pressed to think of any guitarist I’ve ever seen who was as virtuosic. Such fluid motion in those fingers! I also loved Romero’s little percussive fluorishes, including a couple of passages where he did a classical/flamenco sort of finger-tapping – causing the strings to sound by tapping the body of the guitar, possibly brushing the edge of his hand against the strings just slightly. (Or did he even touch the strings? I couldn’t tell, but the sound it produced was haunting.) And then there was one bit of strumming where he created a sound that resembled the vibration of a snare drum – I’m not even sure how he managed to do that.

The pieces he played – Isaac Albeniz, Joaquin Turina, Federico M. Torroba, Manuel de Falla, Joaquin Malats, Francisco Tarrega, Joaquin Rodrigo, his father Celedonio Romero, himself and Agustin Castellon – were beautiful, including classical, flamenco and music that bridges the two genres. Pepe Romero introduced Malats’ “Serenata espanola” with a story about his father playing it at the age of 15, when he was already a guitar instructor, to woo his future wife. It also ended up being the final song Celedonio Romero played before he died in 1996.

Visit Pepe Romero’s Web site. (The above photo is by Antón Goiri.)

January is a fairly slow month for live music in Chicago, so the Tomorrow Never Knows Festival at Schubas is a welcome addition. Last night (Jan. 11) was the second night of the fest – which is basically just a fairly jam-packed series of concerts not that different from what you’d see at Schubas the rest of the year. First up was Brooklyn Bridegrooms, a side project by Robert Hicks of the M’s, accompanied by his wife. The songs were pleasant enough, though they’d benefit by having more than just acoustic guitar and vocals. Next were the Bees (U.S.), a Nashville band not to be confused with the similarly named British group, the Bees or Bees Band. At moments, the ’60s-influenced pop by these Bees was quite good, especially when it got fey and tinkly. At other times, it just seemed a little bland. More variety in the vocals would help.

Dr. Dog was my main reason for attending this night of the fest. I love this band, both on record and in concert. Maybe you need to hear the songs before seeing them live to fully appreciate it, but they really pull off some sophisticated and lovely melodies, harmonies and chord changes (reminiscent of late-period Beatles… think “Don’t Bring Me Down”), while cavorting like fools around the stage. The energy is amazing.

Margot and the Nuclear So and Sos was the headliner. I’ve listened a few times to the band’s album, liking it fairly well but not quite sure what all the fuss is about this band. In concert, the band looked like a high-school band convention on stage, and the songs did come off quite well, a mix of ork pop and some emotional vocals. It reminded me a little of Okkervil River’s big-sounding moments, and, of course, the ubiquitous influence of the moment, the Arcade Fire. The crowd was really into this band, singing along with many of the songs, so it’s clear that they’ve got something good going on.

Click here or on the photo above for my photos from the concert.

I mostly missed the Blacks when they were a going concern, recording music with Bloodshot Records, playing a sort of alt-country-rock. I saw them once. I believe they opened for the Waco Brothers at FitzGerald’s that time. I remember being struck by how odd it was to hear a woman (Gina Black) singing a cover of the Tom Waits song “Goin’ Out West,” with the chorus “I got hair on my chest, I look good without a shirt on.” And of course, the tall Gina with her big upright bass, painted with twin images of naked ladies and vines, make a big impression on me.

Since then, Danny Black’s gone on to start the band Healthy White Baby, guitarist Nora O’Connor has proven herself to be quite the alt-country siren in her own right, and the Blacks have started playing occasional “reunion” gigs. This was the first time I’d seen them since that long-ago FitzGerald’s show, and it was a nice refresher course. There’s something muscular and a little Gothic about the Black’s brand of roots rock. Gina Black’s thumping bass notes are one of the reasons it’s distinctive. The old Blacks tunes still sounded fresh last night.
Click here or on the picture above to see my photos of the Blacks.

The opening act was the Thin Man (aka Kennedy Greenrod, a Brit transplanted in Chicago). I have to admit I wasn’t all that impressed when I heard an album by the Thin Man a couple of years ago. I think that foghorn bass voice of his wore my out. But I enjoyed seeing him play live, and the songs seemed to be pretty good, so I should probably check out his recordings again.
Click here or on the picture above to see my photos of the Thin Man.

One of my favorite new bands is Oakley Hall, so I just thought I’d mention the group is named after a novelist. The only reason I read the 1958 novel “Warlock” by Oakley Hall is that I’d read somewhere it is one of Thomas Pynchon’s favorite books. I believe it’s the only real Western novel I’ve ever read, so I’m not really qualified to say how it compares with the classic genre books by the likes of Louis L’Amour or more recent novels by Larry McMurtry. But I did think it was excellent, leaning towards historical realism in a “Deadwood” sort of way.

When I read “Warlock,” one particular passage near the end of the book struck me as poetic and devastating. I’ve reread it a number of times. The character Henry Holmes Goodpasture, who narrates some of the chapters in “Warlock,” takes a despairing look at the tragic events that have transpired:

Is not the history of the world no more than a record of violence and death cut in stone? It is a terrible, lonely, loveless thing to know it and see … that the only justification is in the attempt, not in the achievement, for there is no achievement; to know that each day may dawn fair or fairer than the last, and end as horribly wretched or more. Can those things that drive men to their ends be ever stilled, or will they only thrive and grow and yet more hideously clash one against the other so long as man himself is not stilled? Can I look out at these cold stars in this black sky and believe in my heart of hearts that it was this sky that hung over Bethlehem, and that a star such as these stars glittered there to raise men’s hearts to false hopes forever?
This is the sky of Gethsemane, and that of Bethlehem has vanished with its star.

Buy “Warlock” at amazon.

I believe this was my 100th concert of 2006 (counting each day of a music festival as one concert), which is a record for me. More coming soon on my favorite shows of the year…
The Waco Brothers played around this time last year, and although they’ve seemed ubiquitous in Chicago at times, they’ve been pretty quiet lately. It was great to see them again. As I walked up to Schuabs, I noticed a big white van parked outside, similar to the one that was used when Neko Case recorded her live album here. Sure enough, the Wacos were taping at this show and the following night for a live album. What we got was basically a Wacos’ greatest hits, played with their usual intensity and humor. There was a ton of banter between songs that probably won’t make it onto the album, although I do hope they leave on a few of the choice bits. Jon Langford’s amp stopped working a few songs into the show, which created an awkward pause, some jokes and a few improvised numbers without Langford’s guitar. Then the guitarist for the opening act showed up with his amp, and the day was saved. The show ended with “Folsom Prison Blues” seguing into “Interstellar Overdrive.” That must be the only time in history those songs have been smashed together.
Click here or on the photo above to see my photos of the Waco Brothers at Schubas.

Chicago’s instrumental rockers Pelican just finished recording a new album yesterday — or so the band members said. They played some new and some familiar songs at a show at Subterranean, which was suitably loud. Strangely, some guy in the audience kept kelling, “Play something heavy! Enough ballads!” Ballads? Maybe the music was too subtle for him. The first band of the night was Suicide Note, which was metal with the vocals intact. Not bad. And then came Lichens, aka Rob Lowe of 90 Day Men and Dreamweapon, doing drony trance rock, complete with some pretty amazing high-pitched singing and tape loops. There was an actual old-school tape-echo machine operating on the stage, which was oddly entrancing if you looked close at it. It was a very dimly lit concert, which necessitated using flash, not my favorite way to photograph bands, but oh well. Click here or on the image above to see my photos of Pelican, Suicide Note and Lichens.

I first saw High Hawk about a year ago, when the group opened for the Waco Brothers at Schubas. High Hawk impressed me then as a noteworthy outfit playing music somewhere in the realm of Americana. I remember thinking I wanted to hear them again. And so it was alarming to find out in this week’s Chicago Reader that High Hawk is disbanding, just after finishing a debut album. The Reader’s Miles Raymer praised the CD and noted that the band would be giving away copies at its final gig, Saturday night at the Hideout.And indeed, High Hawk put on an excellent show, followed by another strong set by a likeminded band, Palliard. Both groups played music that would generally be categorized as roots rock or Americana, I guess, though they clearly don’t feel constrained by the boundaries (real or imagined) of any genre. The emphasis is on good songwriting and musicianship. I’m just listening to the final, unreleased High Hawk CD now (“Amor Fati”), and it sounds marvelous. The new CD by Palliard, “Won’t Heal Alone,” also sounds quite good on first listen. I hear bits of Crazy Horse, Shearwater and Wilco in their sounds. As Hideout owner Tim Tuten remarked to me last night, don’t wait for bands like this to get “big” before you see them. You never know how long they’re going to last. Check out Palliard at www.palliardmusic.com.
By the way, that column in the Reader by Raymer was the debut of his new weekly feature, Sharp Darts, which replaces the column by the recently departed Bob Mehr (departed from Chicago, not from life, that is). Highlighting High Hawk was a nice column to begin with, except that Raymer kicks it off with an incredibly sour comment: “When I agreed to take over this column, the list of local bands I wanted to profile was pretty short.” Jeez, nice attitude. Chicago has tons of good and great musicians, many of whom haven’t received that much publicity. I’d think that someone writing a local music column would have plenty of bands to write about.
See my photos of High Hawk.
See my photos of Palliard.

The Ex were probably my favorite band at the Touch & Go/Hideout Block Party in September, so it was cool to get another chance to see this long-running punk band out of the Netherlands. I’m still not that familiar with the Ex’s songs, but they sound very strong in concert, with energetic guitar playing, rigid riff thats remind me of Wire, the Fall and early Mekons, and fabulous drumming by Kat.
Click here or on the above image to see my photos of the Ex.

Twenty years ago, I discovered the intoxicatingly strange vocal music of Le Mystere Des Voix Bulgares — who, despite the French name, are a renowned Bulgarian women’s choir. There’s something so powerful about these voices, something almost alien about them, too. They sing such deep notes for women, with unusual undulations. And the intervals between the notes seem unusual. At times, the harmonies are almost harsh, with a fierce quality you wouldn ‘t expect from a female choir, but it’s always beautiful, and at other times the music has a lovely, serene nature.

I was shocked on Thursday night to see a Chicago Reader listing for Le Mystere Des Voix Bulgares in Chicago. I had no idea the group was coming here. And where was the choir performing? Orchestra Hall? No, sir, the venue was a Bulgarian church out on the Northwest Side, St. John of Rila Bulgarian Church. Talk about an under-the-radar concert. It was interesting just to see the inside of this church, which had a small sanctuary with an ornate altar featuring exquisite gold-tinted portraits of saints, similar in style to Russian icons. Interestingly, the church had placed smaller pictures of the same saints in front of some of these images, partially obscuring the main paintings. A number of people in the audience were conversing in Bulgarian, apparently parishioners, but I also observed a number of classical music and world music aficionados in attendance.

Conducted by Dora Hristova, the choir performed 22 pieces, including a few Christmas songs that were unfamiliar to these ears. It was a mix of religious pieces, traditional folk songs and compositions written for the choir. At times, the entire chorus of about 20 women sang. Other pieces featured duos, trios and quartets of singers. One male singer, Daniel Spassov, joined the choir for a few pieces. The women in the choir covered the entire age spectrum, with most of them appearing to be middle-aged and a few of them elderly.

The name of the group, which translates as “The Mystery of the Bulgarian Voices,” is very apt, because it is mysterious how these women make such sounds. According to the concert program, they use a “unique vocal technique to produce the sound in the larynx, which then resonates in the chest.” I noticed that the singers seldom opened their mouths very wide. However they do it, it’s astonishing.

Visit the Web site of Eye for Talent, the booking agency that brought Le Mystere Des Voix Bulgares to the U.S. The site includes some audio samples.

Click here or on the image above to see my photos of Le Mystere Des Voix Bulgares in concert.

This was a rare visit to Chicago by a musical legend. White’s one of those guys who have been around forever and deserve to be just as famous as contemporaries like Eric Clapton, but have become more like cult figures known by only a small group of devoted fans. But at least a couple of his songs are instantly recognizable: “Polk Salad Annie” and “A Rainy Night in Georgia.” It was a frigid night in Chicago, not exactly appropriate weather for the guy who’s been credited with inventing “swamp rock,” but that didn’t matter.

The stage was spare. Just a chair for White with an amp set right next to it, and a few pedals — including the same wah-wah pedal that he’s been using since the 1960s, without even changing the battery. And a drum kit. White was wearing his trademark hat and shades. His mouth occasionally curled into a smirkish, mischievous smile. White’s music is perfectly suited for the stripped-down guitar-and-drums setup of his concerts — spare blues grooves, tasty little licks, some impressive solos, those growling vocals.

You can hear his influence on many artists, from ZZ Top to the Black Keys. White took hollered requests from the crowd and obliged with many of his best-known tunes, including the aforementioned ones as well as “Roosevelt and Ira Lee,” “Lake Placid Blues” and the silly but fun “Even Trolls Love Rock ‘n’ Roll.”
Click here on the photo above to see my photos of Tony Joe White.
Read the Chicago Sun-Times’ interview with White.

There just aren’t enough variety shows these days… And I don’t mean TV shows like “Donnie & Marie” (although a decent TV variety show put together with some taste would be cool). I mean live shows like Chris & Heather’s County Calendar Show, which happens every December at FitzGerald’s in Berwyn. Dozens of musicians take turns on the stage, each paying tribute to a country music star, each playing only a couple of songs. Old-time movies of country singers are projected on a screen in between some of the musical acts. Highlights this year including a Purina dog chow commercial with Hank Williams Jr. The show’s ostensible purpose is for cartoonist Heather McAdams to sell copies of her calendar featuring drawings of country musicians and trivia facts about twangy music, all printed on brightly colored paper. It was sort of weird that one of the acts this year (Flat Five, including Kelly Hogan, Nora O’Connor and Scott Ligon) paid tribute to another one of the acts (Robbie Fulks), but hey, Fulks has a ton of great songs and is worthy of tribute. Some roller-derby girls added action to the Leon Russell tribute played by Vernon Tonges and David Drazin. And then we had the amusing spectacle of Jon Langford singing “Stand By Your Man” with Sally Timms.

Click here to see my photos from the calendar show.

If you missed the show and want to buy a calendar, mail a check or money order ($22 for one calendar, including shipping) to: Heather McAdams, 203 S.E. Front St., Milford DE 19963, or e-mail her at heathermcadams@hotmail.com

This concert got off to a very late start, but it was worth the wait. The doors were supposed to open at 11, with opening act the Prairie Cartel coming on at 11:30 and Brazilian Girls at 12:30. But everyone waited in line outside until 12:30, the opening act mysteriously disappeared from the evening’s roster of entertainment, and Brazilian Girls finally took the stage around 1:50 a.m. — to a mix of applause and shouts of “It’s about fucking time!” However, watching Sabina Sciubba for a few minutes was enough to forget about all that waiting.

True to form, she wore a weird get-up. With baloons of various colors attached to her tight gold outfit, she looked like a refugee from a Fruit of the Looms ad. Her eyes were not quite as hidden as they’ve been at most previous appearances, though she still had ornaments on her head, making it hard to get a full view of her face. She seems to enjoy playing a game of sexy peek-a-boo.

The band played songs from both of its records, including two with outrageous choruses that are natural for audience sing-alongs: “Pussy, pussy, pussy, marijuana,” and “Sexy asshole.” Speaking of marijuana, some was actually smoked onstage at this show. Talk about lackadaiscal security. The security guys (contractors, not the usual Metro staff) looked like they were ready for bed, and didn’t care much what was happening. Some fans took advantage of that and jumped onto the stage, some of them partially disrobing. I was sort of hoping Sciubba would pop more of her baloons by the end of the night, but I guess you can’t have everything. The concert wrapped up around 3:30 a.m.

Click here or on the picture above to see my photos of Brazilian Girls in concert.

Telling one of his trademark shaggy-dog stories, Tom Waits recalls chasing a woman as she hops into her car outside a grocery store. “I grabbed her leg and I started pulling it — just the way I’m pulling yours,” he says. And so Waits’ story ends abruptly, without the expected punch line. It’s also the end of the hidden tracks that come at the very end of Waits’ sprawling new three-CD collection, “Orphans: Brawlers, Bawlers & Bastards.”

Those skeptics who don’t appreciate Waits tend to think that he is just pulling our legs. Is his whole act — that famously gruff voice, the freak-show lyrics, the non-sequitur-sprinkled stage banter, that porkpie hat — just shtick? Waits isn’t the only example of a performer whose persona and real person are hard to pin down. Genuine oddball artists aren’t easy to distinguish from gimmicky poseurs. Which artists are delivering surreal visions straight and unfiltered from some loopy brain lobe, and which are hiding behind a wall of jabberwocky because they’re afraid to reveal themselves with truly personal art?

In a recent interview with The Observer, Waits acknowledges asking similar questions about himself during the years after he married Johnsburg, Ill., native Kathleen Brennan, quit drinking and took a more peculiar turn with his music. “I was trying to prove something to myself, too,” he says. “It was like, ‘Am I genuinely eccentric? Or am I just wearing a funny hat?’ All the big questions come up when you get sober. ‘What am I made of? What’s left when you drain the pool?’”

Even Waits fans have to wonder if his public persona is just a beatnik character he’s been playing all this time. The impression he gives in interviews, however, is that he really is that guy. Maybe he invented this persona decades ago, but he has become the character he created. In any case, his music is so rich, so full of the beautiful and the beautifully ugly, that you can’t help feeling the presence of a genius — and yes, a genuine oddball — behind it all.

“Orphans” brings together 24 Waits rarities, including songs from movie soundtracks and tribute albums, with 30 new recordings. Waits is being deliberately vague about the recording dates, so it’s hard to tell exactly what’s truly new. In another recent interview (with Stop Smiling magazine), Waits explains: “A lot of these were recorded within the last year. It’s new stuff. I don’t want to go into the origin of everything, but for me, they’re from questionable sources. I didn’t put any liner notes in because I didn’t want to overexplain it.”

Maybe the air of mystery is designed to make “Orphans” feel more like a cohesive new album rather than a collection of rags and bones. In fact, it’s a little bit of both. Some of the new tracks really are new songs. The most obvious of these is “Road to Peace,” the most explicitly political song Waits has ever recorded, with lyrics pulled from New York Times coverage of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. Thanks to a reference to President Bush in that song’s lyrics, no carbon-dating is necessary on this one.

Other “new” tracks are recent recordings of old compositions, some of which Waits originally wrote for other artists, including Sparklehorse and Ramblin’ Jack Elliot. Others are songs from his stage plays, “Franks Wild Years,” “Woyzeck” and “Alice,” that did not make it onto the albums based on those musicals.Three styles of Waits music are segregated into three discs. The bruising, bluesy rockers are on “Brawlers.” The aching ballads are on “Bawlers.” And “Bastards” is full of monologues and more experimental music. That’s the general idea, anyway, but there’s actually a motley mix of styles on each disc. That’s fine, since some of Waits’ best albums, such as 1985’s “Rain Dogs,” were marked by jarring juxtapositions.

Unlike the typical Waits album, “Orphans” includes cover songs, showing Waits paying tribute Kurt Weill, Leadbelly, Jack Kerouac, Daniel Johnston, Skip Spence and the Ramones. Even the spoken-word pieces are dominated by other writers, as Waits reads texts from Charles Bukowski, “Woyzeck” author Georg Büchner, his father-in-law (an homage to a Pontiac) and the World Book Encyclopedia.

It all hangs together surprisingly well. “Brawlers” is both rousing and moody, with majestic moments like “Bottom of the World” offering a breather between the basement-blues numbers. “Bawlers” is reminiscent of another ballad-heavy Waits album, “Alice,” underlining Waits’ sentimental side and his knack for writing direct and simple melodies — tunes that sound so familiar, even if you can never quite place where you’ve heard them before. Weighted toward monologues and oddities, “Bastards” is an entertaining listen for Waits fans, but it will be the least appealing of these discs for the uninitiated.

Whatever musical idiom he chooses, Waits is a master lyricist, filling his songs with vividly named characters (Scarface Ron, Buzz Flederjohn) and references to places (Elkhart, Ind., and Kenosha, Wis., surface here). Waits has that rare gift for writing lyrics that stick in your mind like lines from Bartlett’s Familiar Quotations, a pulp-novel jacket or an apocryphal book of the Bible: “A rat always knows when he’s in with weasels.” “It’s the same with men as with horses and dogs/Nothing wants to die.”

For those listeners who haven’t yet converted to Waits fandom, his gravelly vocals are the biggest obstacle. I’ve heard his singing compared to the Cookie Monster and Scooby-Doo. Yes, it is an acquired taste, but it’s also one of Waits’ best assets. He doesn’t always sing in the same style. In fact, he has several distinct voices: an unrestrained gospel holler, a gruff blues growl, a distant tone that resembles a transistor radio transmission or a megaphone announcement (only partly due to studio effects), and a falsetto that sounds slightly ill, almost lovely.

In a press release for “Orphans,” Waits describes his own voice as well as anyone else ever could: “At the center of this record is my voice. I try my best to chug, stomp, weep, whisper, moan, wheeze, scat, blurt, rage, whine, and seduce. With my voice, I can sound like a girl, the boogieman, a Theremin, a cherry bomb, a clown, a doctor, a murderer … I can be tribal. Ironic. Or disturbed. My voice is really my instrument.” Hearing that instrument is almost reason enough to make “Orphans” one of the year’s most noteworthy releases.Middle photo by Michael O’Brien; bottom photo by James Minchin III; from www.anti.com.

I’m a latecomer to Portastatic (and before that, Superchunk — though I did see Superchunk open for the Mekons eons ago). But I adore the two most recent albums by Portastatic, including the great 2006 release “Be Still Please.” The band’s performances of the songs from that album and the last one, “Bright Things,” were really superb. This is essentially melodic indie pop (almost power pop at times), the sort of music that is performed in concert with a flat understatement. But Portastatic leader Matthew “Mac” McCaughan obviously isn’t one for that sort of performance; he gave it his all, including some highly energetic guitar solo. Margaret White’s violin playing gave the music a lovely feeling of orchestral pop. Portastatic capped off an excellent show by playing an unexpected cover — the Brazilian tropicalia hit “Baby” by Os Mutantes.

Opening act Benjy Ferree was fairly enjoyable. In my recent review of his CD, I harped a bit too much on the fact that he sounds like Jack White (at least as far as his vocals go). I still heard that similarity, but he’s no copy cat. He played his songs in an acoustic setting, accompanied just by cello, which brought out their folkie side.

Click here or on the picture above to see photos of Portastatic and Benjy Ferree.

The first night of the Three Million Tongues Festival, Nov. 17 at the Empty Bottle, was a truly weird lineup. Most of it falls under that misnomer of a rubric, “Freak Folk,” and some of it actually was freaky. Up first was Nick Schillace, doing some very nice instrumental fingerstyle guitar. The next main-stage act was Spires That in the Sunset Rise, a trio of women playing slow, experimental dirges on autoharp, banjo, thumb piano and assorted other contraptions. The overall effect was like listening to a silverware drawer being dumped onto the floor, accompanied by unearthly wails and moans. As bad as that might sound to some people, I rather liked it, though the slow tempos did get to me after a while.

The least folky act of the night, Steve Mackay & the Radon Ensemble, played some intense avant-garde jazz, including a fantastic, frenetic drum solo. (Actually, it was two drummers, so I guess that’s a drum duo?) The horn players left the stage at one point to march through the club, returning for a final flourish that saw Mackay squirming on his back. In between these acts, the Empty Bottle presented other performers on a “stage” located near the sound board, so the music was pretty much continuous — though you couldn’t always see what was happening over there if you were near the main stage.

The headliner for the night was English folk-rock legend Bert Jansch, once a member of Pentagle. It’s interesting that this guy is suddenly getting buzz and indie-rock cred, all because a new generation of musicians including Devendra Banhardt have cited him as an influence — and because his new album, “The Black Swan,” has been issued by one of those really cool record label, Chicago-based Drag City. I dare say that Jansch would have been playing in front of a much different crowd a few years ago if he had ventured to Chicago then. I picture him playing at some coffeeshop and getting barely any publicity. Well, in any case, he deserves the attention he’s getting now. He played in front of an audience that included a few older folk fans but looked prety much like the Empty Bottle crowd on any other night — a lot of people in their 20s who are into diverse music and tolerant of experimental sounds that might clear another room. There’s something cool about watching young people reverentially listening to an older guy playing an acoustic guitar.

I’m a latecomer myself to Jansch, so I wasn’t familiar with too many of the songs, other than the ones I’ve begun listening to lately on “The Black Swan.” He played some old solo and Pentagle songs, tunes by other artists including a couple by Jackson C. Frank. Jansch was a calm presence onstage, seeming a bit bemused by the attention he was getting, including the overly enthusiastic excalamations of one passionate fan standing near the stage. (When Jansch insisted he would be coming back to Chicago, this guy said he didn’t believe it, pointing out that Jansch is playing only three U.S. cities on this tour. “You don’t love us, man.”) Jansch complained about the Bottle’s typically dim lighting, but the venue seemed incapable of turning the lights up any higher. There was one brief series of bursts as they lights went up and down in brightness. Wow, such sophisticated technology. “The lights are buggered,” Jansch remarked.

Jansch’s guitar playing is very impressive, even though it doesn’t feel like he’s showing off. His picking patterns serve the songs, and it’s only when he does a fast flourish at the end that his full virtuosity becomes apparent. He was coaxed back onstage for a two-song encore, including the wonderful title song from his new album.

Click here or on the picture above for photos of Bert Jansch and the other artists at the Three Million Tongues Festival.

Chicago’s venerated Hideout played host to three bands on the dependable Undertow label. First up was Magnolia Summer, out of St. Louis, who have a nice disc from earlier this year, “From Driveways Lost View.” The band gets some of its atmospherics from the violin; and there were also a couple of songs with those tinkling quasi-notes you get from playing the tight part of the guitar strings below the bottom bridge. It all sounded a bit more muscular in concert than it does on record; well worth checking out for fans of Americana.

Playing second, Dolly Varden previewed some of the songs from its forthcoming album, “The Panic Bell.” Finally! A new Dolly Varden album. It’s been, what, four years since the last one? (Not that the members of the band haven’t been busy with solo records, side projects, art exhibits, T-shirts, etc.) Steve Dawson and Diane Christiansen are one of those great on-stage couples, teasing each other with a deprecating sense of humor. The new songs sound like strong additions to the Dolly Varden repertoire. At one point, Dawson said, “Here’s a new song. It’s sad as fuck.” Audience member: “It’d better be.” Christiansen: “That’s why you came, right?”

Glossary, a roots-rock band from Murfreesboro, Tenn., played last. Glossary’s one of those groups that keeps its songs within a limited sonic range. At first, a lot of the songs sound similar, but that’s just because Glossary doesn’t vary its formula all that much. Once you get to know the tunes, they do grow on you. They’re even better in person, cranking up the guitar for some rousing moments. This was Glossary’s first time at the Hideout, and as the band played, these Tennesseeans got to witness a distinctively Chicago phenomenon — the “tamale guy” came through, calling out for tamale-hungry patrons.

Hideout owner Tim Tuten was in rare form. His introduction at the beginning of the night turned into an extended imitation of the Who at their recent Chicago concert. At a couple of points, Tuten noted, “I don’t even know why I’m talking about this.” Neither do we, Tim, but please keep talking.

Click on the images below to see more photos of the Undertow bands.

I was very distracted at this concert. Distracted by camera problems. I showed up, camera in hand, all ready to take photos. And then, as opening act Corrina Repp began to sing, I realized my lens was malfuctioning. The same lens I’d had fixed three weeks earlier was, once again, refusing to focus. Argh. Back to the repair shop with that one.

Anyway… I was not really in a good state of mind after that to review the performances by Repp or the next of the opening acts, For All the Sweet Children. Both seemed OK to me.

Norfolk & Western finally pulled me out of my funk. This is a really nice band, with some excellent interplay between the instruments. And when Rachel Blumberg (also heard in the Decemberists and backing M. Ward) gets into a frenetic patch of drumming, the music takes on a power that I haven’t noticed in the studio recordings. She’s something else.

It’s a puzzle why some artists get tons of critical and blog buzz and others go unnoticed. My Brightest Diamond isn’t exactly unnoticed at the moment, but she (Shara Worden, that is) isn’t getting nearly as much notice as she deserves. Her album, “Bring Me the Workhorse,” is definitely going to be near the top of my year-end list. And, yet, she didn’t get much publicity for her headlining gig last night at Schubas, and the show was not sold out. Just wait, though — with performances and recordings like this, My Brightest Diamond will rise in prominence, hype or not.

This turned out to be a great triple bill. The first performer of the night, Via Tania, played cool mellow pop. A touch of Norah Jones but much cooler than that, with a blend of electronica with ukelele, some of that laid-back electronic vibe of groups like Broadcast. I liked it quite a bit, and noticed a gaggle of concertgoers going up to the stage at the end of the set to enthusiastically praise Via Tania.

The second band of the night, Pedestrian, was unfamiliar to me, though a number of people in the crowd were obviously fans Terrible name, good band. With tenor vocals and pretty guitar arpeggios building into dramatic climaxes at the ends of the songs, Pedestrian sounded a little like Radiohead or Coldplay (sorry for the Coldplay comparsion — I don’t like that band much, and I don’t mean it as an insult toward Pedestrian). I was duly impressed and now I’m eager to check out Pedestrian’s recordings.

Shara Worden joined Pedestrian onstage for part of the group’s set, and then Pedestrian functioned as her backup band during her set, demonstrating considerable musical prowess. I loved My Brightest Diamond’s opening set at the recent Sufjan Stevens concert at the Rivieria, especially because she had a full string section, but it was just too short. She topped that performance with the one last night at Schubas. She was lacking strings, but her music had even more strength with a full-on rock band. She began by herself, playing a Nina Simone song, then ran through most of the songs off “Bring Me the Workhorse.” Worden has an incredible voice. She has a degree in operatic singing, and it shows, but she also knows how to adapt those talents to rock music. After switching between guitar and keyboards, she sang without playing any instrument on the last song of the night, “Freak Out,” which gave her the freedom to twirl around the stage like a whirling Dervish.

Click here or on the above picture to see my photos of My Brightest Diamond and Pedestrian.

Click here or on the above picture to see my photos of Via Tania.

Every note she sings is intense. On her first song of the night, LaVette shakes and shimmies across the stage like someone one-third her age. Can she keep up this energy level all night? Yes, though she does settle down with the dance moves.

When I interviewed her recently (my article for Pioneer Press is here), she said her voice is more similar to male singers like Wilson Pickett than it is to female singers like Aretha Franklin. I see her point. It’s not necessarily that masculine of a voice, but it has a straining quality that isn’t exactly feminine, either. When she spoke between songs, her voice sounded quite hoarse — you wondered how she was able to sing so well when she could barely talk. However she does it, there’s something quite magnificent and powerful about her singing voice, the way she imbues each note with emotion.

She scattered in comments about her career, a tale of decades of struggle finally resulting in some overdue recognition the last few years. Her band left the stage one by one, and then she was alone for her closing song, an a cappella version of Sinead O’Connor’s “I Do Not Want What I Haven’t Got.” One woman’s voice filled the room and everyone stood in awe.

The Pernice Brothers is one of those bands that doesn’t really change its songs much in concert from the studio recordings. But even though they play the songs pretty much by the numbers, the live performances bring a certain clarity. For one thing, they show that Joe Pernice and his sidemen can recreate that sensation of perfect light indie-pop without the aid of studio tricks. Pernice hits all of those high notes in his breathy tenor, and guitarist Peyton Pinkerton nails all of those great guitar leads and solos. With the guitars cranked a little louder than they are in the studio, the band added a little intensity to the songs.

Joe Pernice jokingly introduced himself as his brother, Bob (who played on the latest album, “Live a Little,” but is not touring with the group), saying that Joe no longer tours. The set included a cover of “The Butcher’s Tale,” a song by the Zombies from their “Odessey and Oracle” record, which Pernice introduced as war protest. Actually, it’s one of the few songs in the rock canon about World War I. An odd choice of a cover, but the Bros. almost made it sound like one of their own tunes.

Click here or on the picture above to see my photos of the Pernice Brothers.

Strangely, the last time I saw Robyn Hitchcock was the day after the 2004 presidential election, and this concert came a day after the 2006 mid-term election. At that concert in 2004 (a solo acoustic show at Schubas), the political mood was grim. Hitchcock offered condolences to his American audience and performed his song that proclaims: “Rumsfeld is the anti-Christ.”

Last night, Hitchcock arrived in Chicago in a more celebratory political mood, noting that the “occupation” was coming to an end, and he reprised the song about Rumsfeld and the Bushies. As much as I like seeing Hitchcock perform acoustic shows, it was good to see him with a band for a change. And how cool to see Peter Buck of R.E.M. and Scott McCaughey of the Minus 5 playing with him. Buck could be doing pretty much anything he wants, but he obviously is having fun working as a guitar sideman for one of his friends.

The songs off the new album, “Ole! Tarantula,” sounded good, making me think that perhaps I’ve underestimated how strong this record is. I like it, but haven’t listened to it that much. The opening track, “Adventure Rocket Ship,” was also the night’s opener. Another highlight was Hitchcock’s long-winded introduction to “(A Man’s Gotta Know His Limitations) Briggs,” describing that song’s origins in the “Dirty Harry” film “Magnum Force.” Somehow, I get the feeling that this drawn-out monologue won’t make it into the eventual WXRT broadcast of the concert.

The concert also featured several terrific Hitchcock oldies, including “The Queen of Eyes,” “Madonna of the Wasps,” “Chinese Bones,” “If You Were a Priest” and “Somewhere Apart.” For their encore, Hitchcock and the Venus 3 played “Eight Miles High,” with climaxed with a seering double guitar solo, and then the Soft Boys’ “I Wanna Destroy You.”

The opening act, Mark Pickerel, has a decent album out on Bloodshot Records. His set was pretty good, though a little snoozy. I think I’d enjoy his music more with a full band.

Click here or on the photo above to see my photos of Robyn Hitchcock at Metro.