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Archive: October, 2008
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| The Dead C |
| Photo | Brian Howard |
New Zealand noise rock gods Dead C made a rare U.S. appearance Sunday night at Johnny Brenda's. Guitarists Michael Morley and Bruce Russell mesmerized a packed house with crashing waves of guitar feedback while drummer Robbie Yeats somehow kept it all in time. Russell, who spent much of the performance crouched over his amp and effects box, coaxed a pulsing tempest from his rig; Morley led the proceedings, stepping to the mic for indecipherable lyrics and twiddling with a black MacBook at his feet; Yeats gave cues and took them, providing a foundation for a night of music where structure was anathema.
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| Tweak box |
| Photo | Brian Howard |
Slide show and video after the jump
Thanks for posting the videos and photos.
Here are my pix:
http://amplitude-photography.blogspot.com/2008/10/dead-c-101208.html
-DKC
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| Photo | Dianca Potts |
Sporting Day-Glo Ray-Ban knockoffs and American Apparel workout-fits, the Girl Talk crowd two-stepped away the minutes until Greg Gillis materialized. About half an hour after fellow Pittsburghers Grand Buffet finished their awkward Beasties-like set, clapping, chanting and overexcited screams brought Gillis — and his laptop — to life. Feeling no doubt like celebrities, sporting cocky smirks and sending limp-wristed waves to the dance floor like small-town beauty queens, Girl Talk's onstage dancers immediately crowded too close, causing Gillis' set to temporarily cease abruptly after five minutes or less of mashed-up madness. Coming off like a guru with a fondness for expletives, he shooed fans away from him (and his susceptible computer cord) in the hopes of fostering a dance party atmosphere — instead of a vibe that he likened to "the first time I saw Rancid in seventh grade."
Mix-matching material from 2006's Night Ripper and this year's Feed the Animals, each minute of Gillis' fragmented set "set it off," just as he intended. It didn't take him any time to get every body in the Starlight moving. One can only imagine how this almost-always-sold-out party will evolve in years to come.
Sure, casual observers might see it as just another Mormon Temple, but cosmopolitan types like to think of it as the best little Mom & Mom & Mom & Pop store this side of Kolob. Be the first one on your block (unless, of course, you live next-door to Mitt Romney or Donnie Osmond) to exchange your holey underwear for a pair of holy underwear.
Be sure to ask about the Bigfoot = Cain special.
How crass. Please find another outlet for your venom. There are things that are sacred to each of us. I wouldn't profane what you believe; why do you to others? The temple is the Lord's house--hope you'll visit it during the open house and rethink your antagonism. Best to you
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| Jerrell's losing design |
| bravotv.com |
As the designers were sent off to their respective hometowns create a cohesive, 12-piece collection as well as a wedding gown to accompany said collection, they were all at their wit's end. That is, until Tim Gunn, the master of wit himself, came to the rescue for some housecalls. First stop: Korto. Tim gave her the thumbs up on the direction of her collection, but warned her that her gown was a dull look with drab color. Korto stuck by her guns, though, and ended up not changing a damn thing about her stone-gray, over-frilled gown. The other bits and pieces we got to see included natural tones, animal prints and handcrafted beadwork.
Gunn then visited Portland to see hippy-dippy Leanne and her aquatic-inspired collection. Leanne has a definite voice and signature style, and though it came off as drab in rushed challenges over the past 12 weeks, once you see what a few months time can do, she's the Season 5 front-runner, no doubt. On a somewhat unrelated note, Tim is the only human being who can make a bike helmet look simply adorable.
Jerell's collection was all about evening — he got that "editing eye" warning, but didn't heed it. And not so surprisingly, he's not going to Bryant Park. Also not so suprising (but still terribly upsetting): Kenley's coveted spot in the final three. She
hand-painted her fabrics, which will score her points, and it did look cool, but that Big Bird wedding dress which was "too McQueen" for Michael Kors still leaves hope that she won't win. "Kenley, I think of people hanging themselves," Gunn said as he looked at the rope trim on her dresses. When I look at Kenley, I think the same thing, Tim.
Back in Times Sqaure, Heidi had a the trick up her sleeve to entreat the exhausted designers: Bust out a bridesmaid dress to match their wedding gowns. After all was bitched and moaned, Leanne's gown stole my heart because it had pockets (!!!) and her dreamlike bridesmaid dress was the perfect fit. She knows how to be cohesive, which is more than essential for the final showdown. Korto's dress duo was just fugly all the way around, and though Kenley's looks were cute, they didn't go together. And, not that it matters, but Jerell's pieces were overworked and sloppily sewn.
So for the first time in ProjRunHist, we have an all-female final three! Maybe now we can finally figure out what the hell "girlicious" means.
great info, thanks!
Enthralling stop motion music video featuring G.I. Joe action figures and blood. Zombie Zombie is a Paris dance-rock duo. More on them here.
[Full disclosure: This critics firmly believes that Nick Cave is the One True God.]
About four notes into the third song — an amazing rendition of "Tupelo" — of Nick Cave's set last night, the guy standing next to me on the venue's floor (packed shoulder-to-shoulder on a Tuesday night) turned to his date and said "he's barely into the third song and we’ve already gotten our money’s worth."
That pretty much summed up the evening.
Cave, who hasn’t graced Philly with his presence since an ill-advised appearance at the Lallapalozza festival (The words "outdoors" and "early afternoon" are not the first that spring to mind when thinking of Nick) back in 1994, led the six members of the Bad Seeds through a soul-searing collection of older ("Red Right Hand," "Papa Won’t Leave You, Henry") and new ("Dig Lazarus, Dig," "We Call upon the Author to Explain") songs that left the entire audience feeling as if they'd collectively witnessed some sort of sonic miracle. It was as if the red right hand of God had descended upon the Electric Factory. So I bought a T-shirt.
Yep, this show was awesome. Crazy loud too. In addition to the songs Rodney cited, "Moonland," "The Lyre of Orpheus" and "Stagger Lee" were also mind-blowingly great.
As much as I hate to use the word "ditto," I can't help it. Sue me. The blog post and the one respondent so far, plus the memory of the show, all have me exhausted for words to describe it. It will go down as one of the six or seven most memorable concerts of my life. This is a band that was formed in 1983, mind you. They are now at the top of their game. Nick Cave was like a cross between Jim Morrison and Iggy Pop, except that he kept his clothes on and stayed sober throughout. The band (a glorious rock orchestra, more like it), was positively brilliant. Two drummers creating thunderous polyrhythms behind a by-turns deftly subtle and manic frontline of guitars and keys, all finely tuned to the ebbs and crushing waves of Nick Cave's theatric yet deeply literary onslaught. One felt blessed to be in the presence of this performance. Oh, what a night.
And "Deanna" was a hell of a singalong.
I didn't have my real camera with me Tuesday night - I've been on a concert-photography hiatus - but I did snap a few shots with my iPhone:
I guess we were all on the same wavelength. I turned to my friend and said, "he is only three songs in and he has already earned his money." I feel blessed to have been there. It was my first Nick Cave show and I would travel far and wide to see him again. Apparently he and the Bad Seeds give it their all each time out, and the level and intensity of performance we were so fortunate to experience is the standard. (I know this because I have been thinking about the show all week and obsessively reading and watching everything I can find on the internet related to Nick Cave.) I got to go backstage but was rendered stupid, deer in headlights-like, in his presence and didn't get the buddy-buddy photo I thought I wanted. I did get to thank him, though. Wow.
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds = amazing.
If you like them, listen to the rest of the Anti- artists on their sampler. It's great.
You can download it OR stream it: http://www.antilabelblog.com/
Real ultimate power
It's oldies week here at the 1-Upper. I was reading something about the top 100 Flash games looking for new stuff, and I came across and entry on N, which made me realize I completely forgot about it. It's been one of my favorite games for a long time, so I'm sorry, N, for being so neglectful.
N is a lot like the happy baby of the Flash version of Portal and the Fancy Pants Adventures series. You control a little ninja - though he looks a lot like that guy playing the flute that a lot of people have unfortunate tattoos of - whose mission, I suppose, is to collect little gold cubes. They kind of remind me of Energon cubes, but there aren't any giant robots about (and if you get this reference you are officially a dork, too). Collecting cubes gives you more time to solve each level, which mainly consists of you finding the switch to open the door blocking the way out. As you move ahead, of course, it gets tougher and tougher and things actually start to shoot at you. But the one thing that gets me about this game every time is the physics. It still amazes me that such a simple browser game can have what looks and feels like a fully realized physics engine.
Go play N here.
Nonchalantly clothed in a bland-colored buttondown and saggy khakis, Alexis Taylor looked more like a necktie-shedding Catholic school boy at final bell than the unflappable frontman of the best live act I've seen in this year.
As far as appearances go, Hot Chip is unmemorable. You see guys who look like them every day browsing the canned soup section in Shop-Rite. Buy they rip. Taylor's delicate, nearly feminine tenor and Joe Goddard's weighty growl bookended that buzzing, between-the-lines tempo the rest of the band is so adept at distilling, bottling and pouring. Touring drummer Leo Taylor lent a hard-copy tangibility to the more synthetic discotheque meanderings of Made in the Dark.
Using the word "sincere" to describe a band seems trite. But Hot Chip was endlessly friendly and gracious to the pulsing crowd, namedropping local boy Dave P and showering the faithful in marshmallow-colored balloons to temper the twitching. (Check out the comments on our video of the Sinead O'Connor shoutout closer to get an idea of just how excited/overexcited we were.) The cheeky singalong "Wrestlers" and an exquisite rendition of "My Piano" off their DJ Kicks mix compilation saw the Chippies at their earnest, entrancing best.
Set list after the jump.
(Pretty sure this is right on, but please let me know if there any oversights or omissions. Asterisks note as-yet-unreleased songs.)
One Pure Thought
Bendable Poseable
Shake a Fist
Hold On
Over and Over
Alley Cats*
Out at the Pictures
Wrestlers
Playboy
Ready for the Floor
Thieves in the Night* (?)
My Piano
No Fit State
Nothing Compares 2 U / In the Privacy of Our Love
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