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Archive: May, 2011
The Bird Text comedy group — consisting of Tommy Pope, Luke Cunningham and John McKeever — has a show slot the first Tuesday of every month at Helium. You may know them from their YouTube vids, especially the local hit "Real Househusbands of Philadelphia."
Since they started, they've been featuring emerging headliners from around the northeast, like Last Comic Standing's Nikki Glaser (who was also featured prominently in the documentary I Am Comic.).
Tonight they will be bringing in Boston Comedy Festival Winner Jim Tews as well as Dan St. Germain, who you might have seen on The Jimmy Fallon Show and World of Jenks or heard on WTF with Marc Maron. Tommy and John will also be performing, along with Helium favorite James Hesky (Luke is busy in L.A. writing for The Sportshow with Norm McDonald).
Tonight, 8 p.m., $10, 215-496-9001, heliumcomedy.com.
Walking up the street to the venue there was three girls huddled against a fence, one was throwing up and the others were holding and consoling her. As I walked in, groups of people were rushing to the entrance, and I heard someone say franticly to the door person, “Where’s the medic?” I look over and they are carrying someone with the glassiest eyes I ever seen (and I've seen some glassy eyes). I head directly to the upstairs bar area. After getting a drink, I notice a guy with a troll doll wig on and I see that Tron was there as well as the Indian from the Village People. When Rusko came on stage, the place erupted in rave-tastic joy. Looking around, there was so many glowing objects, I’m sure this show alone has kept every party store in a 30-mile radius in business. The music wasn’t as bad as I thought (not saying much). I kept being reminded of metal riffs and head banging, and I expected pyrotechnics to explode on the stage at any minute (they didn’t). As I was getting ready to leave, there was so many sweaty shirtless bros all over that I kind of wished I was gay so I could get some kind of cheap thrill out of the evening.
Check out a video, here — of Rusko, not the shirtless bros.
Neighborhood Watch usually looks for Philadelphia’s most fashionable. This week, howeve, Kala figuratively crosses the pond to examine what all the hoity-toity Brits wore to Kate and Will’s nuptials.
So the event you’ve probably heard nothing about (hah) finally went down, and it was just as posh and highly-bred as anyone could guess. Let’s ogle Kate’s much-anticipated gown and the duds of her guests. Oh, and the hats. My god, the hats…
THE BRIDE:
Well, there it is. The gown that people the world over speculated about for months. Kate ended up choosing Sarah Burton for Alexander McQueen, but one might never guess the house of McQueen had any influence given the conservative nature of it. She looks lovely, but I can’t help but think she was all but forced to wear something so, well, plain (though simple and classic is her style). She’s a royal; she has to be elegant and covered up, but wouldn’t it have been fun if she wore something more avant-garde? When I think McQueen, I think about Gaga in McQueen. Imagine Kate tromping down the aisle in snakeskin or the notorious hoof heels…
THE MAID OF HONOR:
Phillipa Middleton, Kate’s sister, also wore Sarah Burton for Alexander McQueen. Another simple, elegant dress that fits her like a glove. Isn’t it weird that the maid of honor is wearing white? Isn’t there some sort of ironclad rule against that? Those crazy Brits… In any case, throw a veil on her and people would have been photographing her to death, thinking she was Kate.
Monday: In the event that a bat gets into your house, you should arm yourself with a broom and shoebox. That is, unless you’re the kind of person who doesn’t mind having bats in your house (read: unless you are a vampire). Even if you aren’t a vampire, New Jersey’s House Bat is sure to wake you from your work week lethargy. Vigorous rhythms and whirring synthesizers combine for an intense sound that’s bound to lift plenty of spirits. w/ Interlagos & Not Fur Longs, 8 p.m., $8, Kung Fu Necktie, 1250 N. Front St., 215-291-4919.
Tuesday: Going on name alone, UK combo Cats And Cats And Cats are one of the coolest bands around. Consider their music and you’ll find that their feline-friendly moniker is but an ornament. Sly and playful, the band’s sound mimics the aloof demeanor of our carefree house pets. Trading off vocals and bashing out dynamically varied tunes, Cats And Cats And Cats are like many breeds: sometimes swoony, sometimes fierce, but captivating nonetheless. w/ Ladycop, PooPaw & Tinmouth, 8 p.m., $7, The Fire, 412 W. Girard Ave., 267-671-9298.
Wednesday: Best known as the original lead singer and songwriter of LA new wave weirdos Wall Of Voodoo, Stan Ridgway has spent twenty-five years crafting an incredibly prolific and eclectic solo career. From wild experimental rock to reverent takes on American standards, Ridgway is both a consistent and unpredictable force. His latest project, Neon Mirage, is a tropical folk meditation several years in the making. Ridgway is always prepared to dig into his own massive songbook to please his longtime fans, but don’t be surprised if “Mexican Radio” is absent from the setlist. He hasn’t done it in his past few area visits, and it’s hardly missed. 8 p.m., $21.50-$30, Sellersville Theater, 24 West Temple Ave., 215-257-5808.
Thursday: The jagged sounds of Foals’ acclaimed debut might’ve been softened for its follow-up, but the Oxford lads can still rock a lopsided beat. Total Life Forever was released just about a year ago, but its odd series of influences makes it sound slightly out of time. Longer songs and an ear toward gradual builds and atmospheres turned the album into a bombastic listening experience. That can only mean that their live show has become more thrilling than ever before. w/ Freelance Whales & The Naked And Famous, 9 p.m., $15-$23, TLA, 334 South St., 215-922-1011.
Friday: Not since the days of the Carpenters has a sibling duo made a fuss as notable as The Fiery Furnaces’. Matthew and Eleanor Friedberger don’t have a new Fiery Furnaces album to offer (the most recent one, I’m Going Away, came out a few years back), but they are each releasing new solo material. The Friedbergers are notorious for radically re-imagining their own material for live performances. Whether or not they’ll do this to their still-unreleased solo tunes shouldn’t be out of the question, seeing as how anything goes when it comes to the Fiery Furnaces. 8 p.m., $18-$20, World Café Live, 30th St. & Walnut St., 215-222-1400.
Man Cave is a testosterone-laden Monday feature that highlights the weekend haps of an everyday, pop-culture-loving Philly dude.
Friday: La Salle Young Alumni Night at the Grape Room in Manayunk
The La Salle Young Alumni Committee raised $600 for La Sallian Service Trips — one of which is Project Appalachia, a program where students spend their Spring Break building homes for needy families in Kentucky.
Four bands and three solo acoustic acts made up of La Salle alumni performed. Taking the stage was Bathtub Doggies, Jason Ager and the COPO, Sheri Gallagher, The Matt Gauss Band, Science Club, Sam Fran Scavuzzo, Jim Feighan and Bill Drust (pictured). Everybody rocked, including emcees Matt Lally and Dave Teruso (a.k.a comedy duo Animosity Pierre).
Saturday: A wedding with surprise guests, The Mummers
Remember your freshman year college roommate? The one you get randomly and hope to have a lot in common with? On Saturday I went to Conshohocken to celebrate the wedding of my college roommate. Much to everybody's surprise and delight, The Rustic String Band crashed the party to play some classics like the Eagles fight song, "When The Saints Go Marching In," and other Philly anthems. It's not considered terribly manly to rate weddings, but I'll give this one "8 Punches in the Face!" (out of 7).
Sunday: Eagle Vs. Shark
I took a break from my alma mater with a dip in to my Netflix queue, firing up Eagle Vs. Shark starring Jermaine Clement of Flight of the Conchords (the tall, funny-looking one). Eagle Vs. Shark is effectively New Zealand's answer to Napoleon Dynamite. Jarrod (Clement) and Lily (Loren Horsley), two socially awkward misfits living in their own fantasy worlds, find awkward acceptance with each other and come together to go on important adventures. Quirkiness ensues. I give it "5 Punches in the Face."
What the fuck.
At the Tower Theatre Saturday night, Neil Young wandered the stage between songs, and sometimes during them, as if looking for something he’d lost. Although he had only a cigar-store Indian — with whom he conferred as roadies replace an out-of-tune guitar — keeping him company, Young occupied all of the Tower’s substantial stage, switching between acoustic and electric guitars, upright and grand pianos, and the towering organ he occupied for “After the Gold Rush.” (T-shirts for the 2010 leg of his ongoing Twisted Road tour read, “I said solo. They said acoustic.”) As he demonstrated on last year’s Le Noise, Young doesn’t need a band to fill a room, especially when he cranks his electric loud enough to coax overtones out of the echoing canyons of sound.
Clad in a white linen jacket and Panama hat, Young opened with the Greatest Hits trio of “My My, Hey Hey (Out of the Blue),” “Tell Me Why” and “Helpless,” but that proved to be something of a (doubtless purposeful) misdirection for a set half composed of lesser-known songs, including six of Le Noise’s eight tracks and the unreleased “Leia” and “You Never Call.” That previous audiences might not have welcomed the approach could be gleaned from the laminated signs posted in the lobby, which read in part, “The artists respectfully request that you refrain from whistling or yelling out during the performance,” which loosely translates as, “I played ‘Cinnamon Girl.’ Now shut the fuck up.”
That didn’t stop one beefy dude from repeatedly yelling “What the fuck?!” as the crowd streamed out after Young’s single encore, but then he’s spent decades perfectly the delicate art of getting classic-rock fans to turn out whether he’s playing the hits or a rock opera about environmental revolution. Saturday’s show might not have been what the audience was expecting — and chances are Sunday’s will be much the same — but those who came with open ears heard Young finding new ways into well-worn classics and forging onward with characteristic eccentricity. At times, the show recalled Young’s defense of his scattershot run of 1980’s releases: “You can call me erratic, but I’ve always been consistent about it — consistently erratic.”
On “You Never Call,” his response to the death last year of his longtime friend and associate L.A. Johnson, Young let the bass notes on his acoustic ring out, conjuring an ominous rumble offset by the song’s disarmingly plainspoken sentiment. “Leia,” introduced as “a song for the all the little people — the tiny little people who don’t yell their ass off,” was a bouncy piano ditty with lyrics about “catching falling leaves from the branches of the music tree,” less evocative of Young’s back catalogue than a lost B.J. Thomas outtake. Even a song as (over)familiar as “Down by the River” was freed from decades of accumulated rust, blasted clean by the stuttering single notes of Young’s electric guitar.
Le Noise’s “Walk With Me” might have been an off-kilter encore choice, but Young pulled out all the stops, singing into the miniature microphone attached to his harmonica and dragging his wailing guitar around the stage as if performing a final exorcism. Notwithstanding the show’s relatively brevity, it was hard to feel Neil Young had held anything back.
Setlist:
My My, Hey Hey (Out of the Blue)
Tell Me Why
Helpless
You Never Call
Peaceful Valley Boulevard
Love and War
Down by the River
Hitchhiker
Ohio
Sign of Love
Leia
After the Gold Rush
I Believe in You
Rumblin’
Cortez the Killer
Cinnamon Girl
Encore:
Walk With Me
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- Win
