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Archive: April, 2008
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| The Baird Sisters |
Gene Shay, known as the King of Bad Jokes for his MC set change diversions at the Philadelphia Folk Festival and a smooth talker on XPN radio, sometimes surprises with a dab of self-deprecating humor. At Monday’s Folk Festival press conference Folk Song Society prez Lisa Schwartz gave him a glowing intro which he proceeded to downplay. Rather than brag about his having MC’d every edition of the festival he helped found, 47 this August, God willing, Shay said “I’m shooting for 50, ” then mused that he’d seen Libba Cotton (composer of every fingerpicker’s early project, “Freight Train”) insist on playing when she had to be carried on stage in a chair. “I have images of them doing that for me!” he joked. Truthfully Shay looks spry. It’s the festival, on the other hand, that had many have worried, after several years of torrential rains keeping the crowd numbers low. It’s a gigantic undertaking, as Andy Braunfeld, longtime member of the festival management team has often said, for the weekend it occurs in Upper Salford township, the event is suddenly, if temporarily, one of the larger, municipalities in Montgomery County. There needs to be a big crowd to pay the bills for all those city services. For years that crowd was a dependable core who would show up for the camping, sharing homemade food and music, no matter who was booked. That core still exists, witness the advance weekend ticket sales that were available, albeit at a significant discount, only until the press conference.
Shay mused about “people my age” — meaning the original festival supporters — not wanting to bake on a hillside or, has been the case several recent festivals, slide in serious mud. “They want to sit on the porch and rock, ” segueing neatly into the introduction of the men who are charged with attracting a younger audience, artistic directors Rich Kardon and Jesse Lundy.
Lundy was given credit for shaping this year’s lineup. He is several decades younger than Shay, but they have a world of music in common. Cutting to the chase, the ostensible reason for the press conference was to announce the talent. Here are some of the old faves that Gene Shay has played on his weekly radio show for years and frequently intro’d at the festival: Janis Ian, Tom Paxton and Judy Collins. Beausoleil always brings joy to Cajun music lovers.
Fair enough. There will be comfortingly familiar faces on the stage. But Lundy is tasked with persuading the young urban audience to leave downtown for the wilds of Montco. Kimya Dawson, tasting mainstream success thanks to the Juno soundtrack is one of his picks. Hometown artists the Baird Sisters closed the press conference with pleasantly mountainy harmony and old time banjo. One of the Bairds is also part of the Espers whose online mp3s promise to please anyone who enjoyed Fairport Convention when they rocked the hillside (if you’ve seen the famous conga line shot, that was the band which got the whole crowd locked onto one another, like a dragon dance dress rehearsal). The Espers will also “curate” a 90 minute or so block of afternoon stage time. The artist/curator concept is new this year, allowing the musicians to dream up the musical summit meetings of workshops, rather than having the bookers arrange the potential hybrids.
Hoots and Hellmouth’s bouncing presence should persuade their loyalists to finally take the plunge and pitch a tent for the weekend. Equally high energy, the Lee Boys bring the singing and shouting of sacred steel guitar. More local innovators, Tin Bird Choir, are not as high voltage, but the pulse remains strong. Will this be the year when the festival experiences a sea change, or will the audience shift be more gradual? Almost 50 years ago, when the first Philadelphia Folk Festival was dreamed up, music festivals were relatively rare. Now there are so many that it would be a career in itself to get to all of them in this region alone. To keep a big undertaking like the Folk Festival afloat will be no mean trick, but clearly those in charge are devoted to keeping the event going with creativity and chutzpah. For example, Steve Earle will be on the Saturday afternoon stage along with this wife Alison Moorer. What is not clear is if his latest collaborator — rumored to be a scratchin’ DJ will also be part of the show.
Hey, lookie: Local photog Emily Wren snapped a buncha great pics of Patti Smith, following the Philly Film Festival's screening of Steven Sebring's doc Patti Smith: Dream of Life this past Tuesday.
"She sang 'People Have the Power' and encouraged everyone to get out and vote next Tuesday in this important primary," says Wren.
Check 'em all out, plus more shots of the PFF's debaucherous-looking closing night party, here!
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| Kensington Publishing Corp., 191 pp., March 2008 |
If you can get past the cartoony skull on the cover, the stigma of being seen reading a book with the subtitle “My Life at Full Throttle,” and the unlikelihood of a writing team composed of a 56-year-old one-eyed biker and an elderly English schoolteacher who resembles Dr. Ruth, you’ll have a good time getting to know Richard “Dead-Eye” Hayes, a take-no -prisoners Harley biker, in this memoir. Some gritting of teeth and nausea are sure to accompany you through anecdotes about how he lost his eye, his stint as a drug dealer and a pimp and his trips to Vegas with his brother Butch. Hayes spent the majority of his life as a member of the Los Valientes biker club raising hell while raising two daughters who want nothing to do with the biker lifestyle. The book is written as if Hayes is recounting memories from his journey in a frank, simple cadence from the next barstool over, which is endearing and allows the reader to get to know the burly, intimidating guy from the inside out. Hayes hand-wrote his memoirs on sheets of lined paper, which must have driven Mary Gardner stark-raving mad, but she managed to help organize the stories into themed chapters as opposed to writing a chronological tale, and that made the read much more interesting.
—Nadia Stadnycki
This is more about his life that happen in addition to the club. Filled with antidotes that have little to do with MC life, he recounts with the ardor of a old man whit-ling on the front porch. Little is to learned from this book about the "OUTLAW" who wrote it and a lot is learned about Richard, the boring family man with a lack luster life.
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| Did you know Jandek was in Poltergeist 2? |
After decades of keeping every single detail about himself secret, Jandek has come out of hiding in recent years to play some shows and, more interestingly, show his face. If you don't know the whole Jandek legend, his Wikipedia page is a decent place to start, although the 2003 documentary Jandek on Corwood would be ideal.
Anyway, the chance of seeing this mystery man in concert once seemed as likely as having dinner with a yeti, so when I heard the man was playing Philly, I had to go. Part of me thought the show might've been a hoax, to be honest.
Now that it's over, I'm still not sure.
Jandek, ladies and gentlemen is boring. Pale and thin as a rail, the man sat down at a piano and moaned in a monotone for some two hours and never once hinted at a pleasant melody or an interesting idea, or even an awareness for the one hundred plus people who plunked down $25 a ticket. His backing band, a clarinetist, a bassoonist and a harpist (all classically trained bullshitters), carried the load, cranking out eccentric noises and looking at each other for clues.
Making the evening all the more uncomfortable was the no-applause rule — the show was being recorded (and shipped to Gitmo for an experimental form of audio waterboarding, most likely) — so all you heard between songs was the creaking of chairs and plotting of escapes.
Really, only a few people appeared to have left without returning. In fact, so many were so enthralled with this (ugh) outsider artist that when Jandek committed his first kind act of the evening by getting up from the piano, the large majority of attendees actually rose for a standing ovation. Those people were not being honest. The show was so devoid of inspiration and so infested with pretentious douchebaggery it felt like hucksterism.
The listener reacts and becomes a partner in the game, initiated by the creator. Nothing less, nothing more. The fact that the partner is free to accept or refuse participation in the game does not automatically invest him with the authority of a judge. ---Igor Stravinsky you stupid cunt.
Ah, the classic "quote stravinsky then call the critic a cunt" gambit. Well played, anonymous, brave commenter of the Internets.
uh... it's jandek- were you expecting modest mouse? maybe 311?
Uh, for $25 a pop I think the dude could've covered "Float On."
well, it's a really sad day when the criteria for whether or not a concert is good is based on how much the ticket cost. but then again, a critic for a philadelphia blog is hardly the arbiter of good taste. more like dirt under the fingernail of the cultural landscape.
Mixed metaphors like "dirt under the fingernail of the cultural landscape" are the lid on the pot of my dissatisfaction with current trends in English usage.
I was there - completely accurate representation. I stayed for the full two hours just so I could see how he reacted to the audience... he didn't. I think he either has a serious social disorder or he's trying hard to maintain a persona...
Hmmm, nowhere in this review do you mention whether or not you've enjoyed Jandek's other work. If you have enjoyed it, then I'd be interested to hear how you felt this concert fell short relative to his records. If you haven't, then why on earth did you attend a performance that was practically guaranteed to disappoint you? Jandek's certainly an acquired taste to say the least, but at his best there's no one who can quite capture his mix of crushing depression, black humor, awkward vulnerability and sly wit.
P. (above) pretty much said it for me ... the criteria used for this review wasn't really fair. No "interesting melodies"? Doesn't it need to be taken into consideration that Jandek's music has always been amelodic? And it's always had an improvisational bent to it, but he sees the accompanying musicians as "bullshiters", which opens a whole can of worms - does the reviewer also have a problem with free jazz, which this show approached? A valid opinion, but not carefully considered in this review, which is a sheer attack. (It DOES almost seem that the reviewer would prefer palpable, accessible popular music and nothing challenging.) The standing ovation wasn't honest? Didn't know this reviewer could read minds. I really don't see Jandek being a "pretentious douchebag". He creates the most heartbreakingly personal, uninfluenced music I've ever heard - it's in fact completely DEVOID of bullshit. During the standing ovation, he looked physically UNABLE to turn his head to the audience, staring at his feet, looking very, very shy, but grateful. Such sincerity is lost on this reviewer, who assumes everyone is as much of a jerk aiming to show everyone else up as he is. The reviewer, for a few seconds, came close to offering a potentially interesting perspective on what "outsider music" is and how its fans respond to it and why they like it, but instead, he just choose to be a hate-spewing dick about it.
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| Photo | John Vettese |
Dammit, Matt Pond, you're impossible to stay mad at. For years, I've been one of those twits calling for the relinquishment of the PA from your band name. Obnoxious, perhaps, but it felt like something between a regional slight and outright betrayal when you left Philly for Brooklyn along with, like, freaking everybody else in the early aughts. That, and MPPA's NY incarnation had a completely different roster of bandmates. Plus also the new music you were making seemed comparatively subpar alongside your work with the Mike Kennedy / Eve Miller / Jim Kehoe axis of awesome. You didn't deserve the PA. But perhaps that was just the anger thinking. Cause, see, now that you've announced plans to change your name to The Dark Leaves with your next release, I'm able to listen to Last Light objectively and'fuck. It's good, dude. It's really good. More studio polish, less orchestrations, but the songwriting is still strong. The bounce on "People Have a Way" ranks up there with "Fairlee." The tragic car crash meditation "ntil the East Coast Ends" gives me chills. More and more I'm forgetting about the bitch problems I had with Several Arrows Later and Emblems, since it's seeming that the noted differences in your evolution away from chamber-indie just give you more room to really own the role of frontman. We saw that in action at your World Caf' Live show earlier this week. Photos and introductions to your new bandmates after the jump.
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| Photo | John Vettese |
| Steve Jewett plays guitar and has really long hair |
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| Photo | John Vettese |
| The remarkably clean-cut Chris Hansen plays guitar and also keys. |
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| Photo | John Vettese |
| Dan "Dills" Crowell hits things with sticks and likes the color white. |
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| Photo | John Vettese |
| Poised bassist Matthew Daniel Siskin wins the scraggly award. |
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| Photo | John Vettese |
| Then there's Matt, natch. |
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| Photo | John Vettese |
| In case you haven't seen him in a few years, he's now into black hoodies and Biblical hairdos. |
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| Photo | John Vettese |
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| Photo | John Vettese |
| Not mocking Dills here...just too great a shot not to share. |
A last word on Last Light: naturally Pitchfork doesn't like it. But lest we forget, they're a bunch of prickly fuckers whose slights we shouldn't take too seriously. At least not as seriously as some of us took MP's retainment of the PA.
These photos accompany the Music feature Entertain Me: Papertrigger bravely blend rock and showmanship.
All photos by John Vettese.
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| Photo: Aly Semigran |
I truly never meant to care about fashion. To be perfectly honest, I
find it to be an industry for the rich, snooty and really hungry (I'll
take a bagel over a Birkin any day, thanks.) But when you've got
someone as charismatic and original as Jay McCarroll in Philadelphia,
it's hard not to imagine yourself strutting around in something
fabulous. McCarroll, the winner of the first season of Project Runway,
is so far from pretentious, it's easy to talk to him about anything
fashion or Philly. The after-party for the Philadelphia Film Festival
debut of Eleven Minutes,
Michael Selditch's documentary chronicling his first fashion show in
2007 since his win on the series (see Monica Weymouth's review of the
film here),
featured a fashion show from McCarroll, as well as an inspired
performance by the always-entertaining Martha Graham Cracker Cabaret.
In Eleven Minutes, McCarroll makes it clear that while he's grateful for what Runway
gave him, he's ready to move on from the reality television juggernaut
and earn his place in the industry. If anything, the film captures
exactly that: Runway gives the winners a helping hand, but it's
up to the designer to really make it, well, work (that means you,
"Fierce" Christian!) Whether you're a fashion maven or not, Eleven Minutes
gives a whole new perspective on how much work goes into that hoodie
you're wearing. McCarroll, who seriously may be the hardest-working man
in the business, donned a label reading "I'm Tired" (label makers play
a fairly prominent role in the movie), but his designs looked anything
but. His line, which was inspired by hot air balloons, was shown under
the great big stars of the Fels Planetarium. The pieces are even more
striking in person than they are on film.
From the classic polka dot dress to puffy skirts to a
less-than-conventional rain coat, it's hard work that comes out looking
effortlessly cool. "I want [the clothes] to be something for people to
think about," said McCarroll after the fashion show. He'll be selling
his line at jaymccarroll.com,
as well as on QVC this summer, and said he plans to stay in Philly. "A
lot of people are so negative about [Philadelphia] because it's not New
York. I wish people would stop doing that and make Philly what it could
be. I think it's time for us to define this town as a fashion capital,"
said McCarroll. Quite frankly, I couldn't be happier that he's here.
More photos after the jump.
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Photo: Aly Semigran
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Old-School's Paradise
Paradise City's location at the 33rd Street Armory on Drexel’s campus is ironic given its proximity to college students, none of whom had much interest in attending. Before entering the building, I held the door open for a nice elderly woman who thanked me profusely, so I felt like I had done my civil service for the day.
Inside wasn’t much different. I didn’t see a bevy of students pilfering through the different booths ranging from coats, silk scarves, jewelry and Spirit Masks (African-style headpieces made by a guy from Jersey). Some of them were pretty cool, like Joe Peters’ glass necklaces — all unique, original pieces. There were other jewelry stands that were rocking some cool gems, but at 50 bucks a pop for a pair of earrings, my lowly college income and I felt a little out of our league.
Bella Bella — contemporary art tables, mirrors, rugs etc. — by Lara Moore featured colorful and modern designs that could go well in any hipster’s apartment. Kurt Carlson’s Glassworks was another interesting: Glass sculpted heads with layers of hand-painted enamels made interesting lamps, bowls and cups — think of the painted faces from the Moulin Rouge.
I was in and out of there in 20 minutes and left empty-handed. It reminded me of an upscale marketplace, like the legendary Stanley Market in Hong Kong, but on steroids. Kimono jackets, celebrity-emblazoned handbags, dragon-style tea pots, vests that looked like they were made out of rugs — all within the comfortable climate of the armory away from the rain. It was certainly paradise for any adult who digs large sea animal wall sculptures and has the money to blow.
—Briana Regan
The real fruit mystery what makes blueberries so delicious
Last week, I thought about posting a funny April Fool's game, but I resisted. I only lasted a week, and I proudly point you to Fruit Mystery. Made by, it seems, a friend from Down Under, Fruit Mystery is both the most ridiculous and hilariously funny game I've come across. The point of the game, I think, is to pick what fruit a parade of animals (represented in horribly lo-res images) would eat while a MIDI version of Katrina and the Waves Walking on Sunshine blares from your PC speakers. Sounds easy, right? Well, all of the fruits are crudely drawn in what looks like Microsoft Paint, and some don't qualify as fruits, like corn chips. Your selections are either met with some "well done, chap" congratulations or downright derision that would make Gordon Ramsey grin from ear to ear. Either way, both are delivered in English that is as mangled as the fruit drawings.
I'm not sure you can solve the Fruit Mystery, but you do get 38 seconds to try. You'll have to determine how well you do, too, as there's no score (EDIT: Oops! There is a score! It, of course, just makes no sense). If you unravel this, the most pressing and urgent mystery of our times, be sure to let me know, OK?
Play Fruit Mystery here.
The fruit mystery is a psychological thriller, you are trapped in a world of guilt caused by the protagonist's actions (feeding inappropriate fruit), and now he is trying to purge his feelings by projecting them onto the player. Truly, a game for all ages. There is a score at the end, too, I got -32 and then 84 the next time.
Hi I think friut is thriller.
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