Franz Ferdinand

Last Friday, I went to Amoeba to check out Franz Ferdinand's free show. You can read the recap over at the LA Weekly.

For This, We've Waited Just a Lifetime

It's a good excuse to quote from a song I love so dearly ("Just a Lifetime"), even if I had only been waiting a few months for the show and even though I have seen The Legendary Pink Dots four, maybe five, times in the past. It's been a while.

The first thing you should know about The Legendary Pink Dots is that Edward Ka-Spel performed barefoot and surrounded by wires.



Then I should tell you about the politeness of the crowd. Recently, I have grown to loathe concerts on account of the rudeness of people in the audience (I think Man Man's audience might have taken the prize for downright obnoxiousness). LPD fans, though, are a different breed. No one talked during the show. It was like we were all in the midst of the rapture. People danced, but we all did it without invading the personal space of others, and if an accidental bump occurred, apologies were made. Cameras were everywhere, but no one used flash. And, in what is probably the first time in the history of concerts ever, two people saw that I was hold the camera and gestured for me to take their spots right in front of the Silverman. I was careful to only horde the space for a few minutes.





I was able to lean in a bit closer to Edward Ka-Spel from there too.









I should add that I have no idea what I'm doing with a camera. I'm still trying to figure out the whole no-flash thing. I'm not sure how to cut the glare for the blue lights and the sickly blur that happens whenever the reds flash. And then there's the whole action thing because a band like LPD has a few psychedelic freakouts in each song and those tend to become a blur.



Advice, of course, is appreciated.

Oh, yes, you guessed it, they played "Just a Lifetime."

Okay, that was the cheesiest most fangirl thing I've ever written. I have to stop playing off the lyrics to the song. In fact that, that was the first bit of the encore. The band followed with "Princess Coldheart" and "Hellsville." You would have totally died if you were there.

And if you want to check out some really great photography, Wolf-Stone has shots from Texas.

Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds, Spiritualized, Catpower @ Hollywood Bowl, 9/17/08

When I met my brother at the Hollywood Bowl for last night's show, he was dressed like a Bad Seed. It wasn't intentional, as he normal looks like he could playing bass alongside Nick Cave.

"I should have brought a red glove," he said.

"So you can have a 'Red Right Hand'?" I asked.

"Exactly."

Nerds, we are. So much so that I had to fight the urge to scream, "Bring out Kylie!" during the show, as a reference to Cave's duet with Ms. Minogue, "Where the Wild Roses Grow."

We had a running list of songs we wanted to hear. Fortunately, Cave and the Bad Seeds played most of them, including:

"Tupelo"
"Red Right Hand"
"The Mercy Seat"
"Deanna"
"Papa Won't Leave You Henry"
"Into My Arms"
"The Ship Song"
"Stagger Lee"

(Not necessarily in that order.)

The band played quite a few tracks off Dig, Lazarus, Dig. Of these, my favorite is "We Call Upon the Author" as the band throws in a really cool, little funk breakdown between a few of the verses.

A lot of people seemed to be at the show specifically to see Spiritualized. The people who were behind us spent most of the set screaming "Jason!" and howling into my ear. Good times. I think they left before Nick Cave hit the stage. Personally, I barely contained my screams for "Ladies and Gentlemen, We Are Floating in Space."

Catpower packed a crowd in too, particularly in consideration of her 7:30 p.m. time slot. Yes, everything is always on time at the Bowl. Did you know that there's a counter on the side of the stage to let the bands know how much time is left? I caught that last night from our freakin' awesome boxed seats (how the hell did that happen?). Spiritualized, naturally, went a minute over with pure noise and guitar-throwing.

Tim Finn's Number One Fan (All of Them)

I'm a bit shocked, actually a lot shocked, that the El Rey was so sparsely populated for Tim Finn's show last night. The club was maybe a bit more than half full and, oddly, all seated (there were folding chairs on the dance floor). I expected something much closer to sold out for the event given Tim Finn's history with Split Enz, Crowded House and the Finn Brothers. Plus, he's an Officer of the British Empire and one of those dudes that KCRW loves to hype (strangely, the show was actually presented by Indie 103.1, who I think only plays his Split Enz stuff). The people who were there, though, were diehard. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if a few were following the bus along the tour route.

For example, we were outside when one guy, probably in his mid-40s, was educating some other guy about Split Enz's transition from prog rock band to new wave band. Then he mentioned Crowded House and the younger guy said, "I didn't realize that they (Tim and Neil Finn) were brothers." Then there was a girl who standing on the other side of the patio, completely unconnected to the conversation, but within earshot, who proclaimed, "Oh, my God, I can't believe he didn't know they were brothers."

I think this might have been the same girl who kept standing up and shaking her thing during the show (see photo above), which was pretty entertaining. Then there was the guy behind us. He couldn't deal with polite applause between songs, so he shouted out a bevy of compliments.

"That was amazing!"

"That was phenomenal!"

"That was phantasmagoric!"

Okay, I made up the last one. He totally should have said that.

I'll admit, I really don't know that much about Tim Finn outside of his work with Split Enz and his brief stint in Crowded House (which, for the record, is his brother Neil's project). But seeing people get all bat shit insane made a deep impression on me. Having lost my voice from screaming through several Morrissey concerts, I can relate.

I thought a lot about hype during the show, how I've been to so many shows over the past few years that were touted as being the event of the year or month (in actuality, though, it's only the event of the night) headlined by a band that's featured in all the magazines and newspapers and all the blogs. And at a lot of the shows, the venue is packed beyond capacity, but everyone is just standing there, like the only reason they are at the show is because you have to be able to say you were there. Then there was this concert, something that was clearly not hyped, headlined by someone who was the Next Big Thing over 25 years ago, but nothing could match the enthusiasm of the crowd.

As for the show itself, I did recognize some of the older songs, like "Chocolate Cake" (Crowded House) and the two big Split Enz hits, "Six Months in a Leaky Boat" and "I Got You." (Oh, and I think he did "Weather With You" and "I See Red" too, but since I wasn't on the clock, I didn't take notes.)





Of course, I got you sounds quite different now. This video, which was apparently taken in 2007, is a good representation of last night's rendition. (It's also of an unusually good quality for YouTube concert clips, kudos to Rosey of San Diego: Dialed In)



There's a difference, though. Right before the third verse, Finn broke a string, began singing about the broken string, and then had to stop to get it repaired. During the downtime, he played another song on the keyboard. When the guitar was returned, he picked up where he left off, asking the crowd to sing the third verse. But, since everyone (including Finn, as he said) seems to get the verses mixed up, the crowd started singing the second verse. Even the number one fans, all of them, got it wrong. It's a confusing song.

A Civilized Evening

The thing about Monday night shows is that they always start early. Maybe this wouldn't be problematic in any other city, but it's hell on the L.A. music fan given that, at any physical point in the city, it can take half an hour just to travel half a mile at 6 p.m. Traffic was how we started our evening. My usual fifteen minute drive to the Henry Fonda Music Box Theater had at least doubled. Then I spent another twenty minutes driving in circles until I saw Amy B., my cohort for the evening, run towards the curb from the box office holding our tickets.

We were supposed to eat dinner at Carousel, which we love on account of the fact baba ghanoush helps maintain our Armenian good looks. We must have driven past the restaurant four times, always searching for the signage in the wrong strip mall, never looking across the street for the signifier, Jumbo's Clown Room. Once we drove as far as Vermont, turned right and, at the corner of Vermont and Sunset, got stuck at an extremely long light made entertaining by the one man political band on the corner. His signs were barely legible, all I could read were "Hilary" [sic] and "Huckabee" in what looked like a single sentence. Was he a Hillary Clinton supporter who wanted Mike Huckabee to be her running mate? Was he freakin' nuts? Dude ranted through a megaphone in Arabic, the only decipherable for the non-Arabic speaker being "Allah." Then, in the middle of his rant, he shouted "Islam isn't un-American." Dude was taking to the streets, showing Angelenos that religious proclamations made on Hollywood street corners in the middle of rush hour traffic isn't solely the domain of Christians.

I pulled my phone out of my purse and turned on the camera.

"Amy, take of picture of him."

"How do I do that?"

"Just press the center button."

Amy pointed and shot right as the light turned green.



At some point, we found Carousel, only to notice the sign on the window that read "Closed on Mondays." And so we continued to drive through Thai Town until we hit the corner of Hollywood and Edgemont and spotted Bamboo House.

"I could go for some pad Thai," said Amy.

I was so hungry, I could eat anything.

Bamboo House has the best Thai food I have ever tasted. I'm pretty sure that is not just the hunger talking. Amy and I split some fried rice (yummy), she got the pad Thai and I got a macaroni dish, the full name of which I can't recall right now. I tasted Amy's pad Thai and was impressed. I never really cared for the dish before because, at most of the restaurants I have visited, it's too sweet and leaves a sickly aftertaste that lingers in the base of my throat. This pad Thai, though, was flavorful and savory. My own dish was a scrumptious mix of macaroni, tofu, tomatoes, basil, red pepper and chili pepper. The heat didn't hit until after a minute of tofu-chomping. Then my nose started to run and my sinus headache dissipated.

After dinner, we headed back to the Fonda to see the Magnetic Fields. We arrived roughly five minutes before the main attraction.

When I first saw Magnetic Fields, in 1998, it was at a place called Threadwaxing Space in New York, which looked like it was also an art gallery. It was this small, white space with wood floors. At least, I think that it was a wood floor. Whatever it was though, everyone was sitting on it. Now, 10 years later in Los Angeles, there were cheap white chairs lined up across the bottom level of the theater.

This is how you know you are getting to be an old hipster-- when you go to seated events in venues that don't have seating to see a band that performs with an intermission alongside guys who think that they are classing it up by wearing a blazer with their jeans and stupid Urban Outfitter t-shirts, not realizing that they wore the same outfit when they screened their theses in film school.

When the band came out, Claudia Gonson, who plays the piano and sings, asked that we not applaud. Meanwhile, Stephin Merritt was motioning "cut" to the audience. Gonson tried to explain why we weren't supposed to applaud, but it was impossible to hear her over the cheers. I think something must be up with Merritt's ear because every time the crowd clapped, which was often, he would tilt his head towards his left shoulder and pull on his earlobe.

Regardless the band played at least two hours (I lost track), working in old and new songs plus pieces from the Gothic Archies and the 6ths. They were, as Amy noted, "way unplugged," which meant that they did not play my personal favorite "Long-Forgotten Fairytale," which I used to play a lot when I DJed, usually with Pulp or Pet Shop Boys. The band did, however, play some choice tracks, including "Grand Canyon," "Papa Was a Rodeo," "Take Ecstasy with Me" and "Smoke and Mirrors." The band also played two of the Gothic Archies tracks from The Tragic Treasury: Songs from a Series of Unfortunate Events and were joined by Mr. Lemony Snicket himself on accordion. The highlight was during "Scream and Run Away," when we were told to scurry our feet whenever Snicket said run and and slump in whatever position we wish to find ourself deceased in when he said die.

"It works better with second graders," he said.

Oh, but it was a loud crowd at that moment. Louder than one could imagine for a show where much of the night we felt burdened by the pressure to act like civilized music fans.

When Something Actually Happens on the Sunset Strip

I loathe the Sunset Strip. This is no secret. The traffic angers me. The crowd makes me cringe and the thought of the amount I have to pay for one night on the Strip causes me to get lightheaded.

I wish I could tell you that the Strip is going under some sort of resurgence, but that would be a lie. It is still an airbrushed cesspool filled with rotten drivers and tacky suburbanites who scream things like, "Hey, want to party with us?" (Do I look like the sort of girl who would party with Linkin Park-loving ruffians?) The high cost of the Strip has gone down, however, $5 parking, $2 sodas and free gigs aren't enough to make me head west of Fairfax. Nope, I only go to the Strip for one reason and that's because I really dig your band, as with Pop Noir's gig at the Key Club last night.

I came into contact with Pop Noir when it was just a duo consisting of Manchester-born twin brothers Joe and Luke McGarry. I was DJing at the Airliner in Lincoln Heights and the band just happened to be on the bill. The style was minimal but with a strong pop sensibility, clearly the result of listening to New Order's Power, Corruption and Lies. In the two or three years that have passed, the duo became a trio with the addition of Chilean drummer Nico Saavedra and has grown in both musicianship and songwriting skills.

Last night was the final installment of Pop Noir's Tuesday night residency at the Key Club. The crowd was substantial, more than half full, and the band benefited from the only worthwhile feature of Sunset Strip clubs-- a good soundsystem. I have seen Pop Noir play at least ten times and can honestly say that I have never heard the band sound so good.



Pop Noir opened with a cover of "Waterfront," a British-styled arena rock anthem from Simple Minds. Despite being at the Key Club instead of Wembley Stadium, Pop Noir maintained the intensity of the original. It was a wise choice. I imagine many of the people in the club would be too young to remember the original (hell, I'm almost too young to remember it) and Simple Minds haven't really benefited from the '80s revival, so it isn't as obvious as working in a New Order or Cure number. Shockingly, the band learned the song less than a week ago and this was the second time it had been incorporated into the set.

The bulk of the set relied on original material, infectious pieces like "Don't Fool Yourself" and "Santa Ana" that feel like well-known radio hits were it not for the fact that they aren't.


Joe


Luke


Nico

The crowd was especially receptive to the set. Apparently, the guys in the front row had been to all four performances of the residency. They were dancing during the entire set.



By the end of the set, when the band busted into its cover of "Paint It Black," Luke was in the middle of the crowd.




I felt proud to see this young band grow so much in just a few years and hopeful that good things will fall Pop Noir's way in the future. This show was definitely worth heading out to the Strip.

A Beautiful Mess

Five minutes after we arrived at 2nd Street Jazz in Little Tokyo last night, Paul Roessler, who has played with the likes of the Screamers, Nervous Gender and Nina Hagen, took to the piano. Yes, a piano. Just because you're status in the history of L.A. punk is somewhat legendary doesn't mean you can't tickle the keys in a lilting fashion. After the prompting of Monkey Bucket, aka the dude in the fez, the crowd sat on the floor.



This was the only point in the show where there would be some semblance of decorum within the crowd, which is fine because decorum is overrated, except for when someone is playing the piano and a little less chatter is necessary.

Following Roessler was the Tleilaxu Music Machine, which is the brainchild of D. Bene Tleilax of RoMak & the Space Pirates. Feeling at a loss to describe his music at 10:30 a.m., I am instead posting the following photo that might help you get an idea of his sound.



It is a blurry, red lit haze of electronic madness, the sound of frantic dancing and feeling like you might lose your shit, or at least your watch, as one person did last night.

The crowd tossed balloons like volleyballs as a sign of approval.



And a dinosaur pinata made its way into the crowd, where one guy hoisted it upon his shoulders as though it were a drunk, topless girlfriend at a Motley Crue show.



And then the mosh pit began.



We were sitting at a table on the edge of the pit, where patron after patron knocked back to granite table top. Fortunately for the club, the table was posted into the floor. Unfortunately, for the crowd, it was not conducive for bumping.

"That girl in the plaid is going to have one bruised back tomorrow," I told Carlos, which prompted him to recall a time where he hit the pit and took a cymbal to a rib.

"My mosh pit days are over," he said.

"So are mine."

Carlos laughed, knowing full well that I run away at the sight of swarming punks.

The mosh pit may have been fun for those caught in the wave, but it was hell on the balloons.



And then there was Baseck. After a few of his tamest pieces and a collaboration with a rapper wearing raver fingers (who was that cool dude?), Baseck got all grindcore on us and brought out his dancers to help establish the mood.



At this point, the dinosaur pinata had been slaughtered and most of the balloons were popped. And the crowd, well, I gather you can guess its response.



For his last song, "Creatures of the Night," the dancers reappeared in bunny outfits.



The outfits were supposed to be puffed out with packing material. Instead, feathers were used, much to the joy of the crowd and the dismay of whoever had to close down the bar.



I feel badly for the people stuck cleaning up this mess.

Siouxsie's Boots

Yes! Someone has posted Siouxsie's cover of "These Boots Are Made For Walking" from Friday night's show. The sound actually is decent too. This cover reminds me of Siouxsie and the Banshees' version of "The Passenger."





There is also a clip of "Dear Prudence."


KrysteeClark, the girl who posted these videos, has a lot of LA-centric live concert footage on her channel. It's worth perusing.

I Cry, I Pray, Mon Sioux

I first saw Siouxsie with the Banshees in 1992, sixteen years ago from today almost to the day. It was my second concert, the first I attended without an adult. Years later, when I spent 1998 attending every Creatures show in Los Angeles, I thought that as good as the shows were, they couldn't compare to that moment six years earlier when I went to a concert and felt inspired to do something, to be a part of the music. I hadn't seen either the Creatures nor the once reunited Banshees play since then, figuring it couldn't get any better. Then, almost a decade after that Creatures show at Variety Arts Center when my friend Frankie and I had to divide our DJ sets into 20 minute intervals and run up and down five flights of stairs so that we could catch part of the show, Siouxsie was on her own and in L.A., on stage at the Henry Fonda Music Box and I was there, no longer barely legal and no longer dressed in fishnets, and it was still everything that I could have imagined.

The Fonda was ex-goth central tonight. There was a handful of people of who looked exactly as they did back at the last Creatures show I attended, but those folks were mixed with moths, rockaghoulies, gravers and those teenage goth boys who grew into very hot, very gay men.

I went with my friend who had earned the alias Third Eye by the end of the night and we met up with Russell, who I have known since he was 13 and I was 18 and we were regulars at the goth clubs, and his friends. As you can see, we aren't so scary looking anymore.


Photo by Cody Wayne


We were supposed to dress in theme-- "Red Over White"-- so as to pay tribute to one of Siouxsie's many amazing b-side. However, Russell decided to get a tattoo that day and his red Vivienne Westwood sweater would have been too uncomfortable rubbing against the fresh ink. By the way, this tattoo says "Tootie."

"It's my grandma's name," he explained.

"Oh, I thought it was a Facts of Life reference," I answered.

"See, that's why I got it. It will be the perfect conversation starter for the rest of my life."

Russell had found a Siouxsie setlist early Friday morning and posted it on MySpace, so as to keep us all from being surprised. In fact, Siouxsie didn't stray too far from that list, but the order was changed up a bit and there was one big surprise at the end of the show.

Siouxsie opened with new music and a new look that was sort of like her Superstition-era style, but hotter. She was like Emma Peel with her black/white/gold/pink harlequin patterned catsuit and long, teased hair and she danced in that loose-limbed fashion that goths often try and fail to emulate (it usually helps if you aren't wearing a corset). I must admit feeling a pang of jealousy. It's a look I have always wanted to achieve, but knew that my figure was too lumpy and my hair too limp to make it work. And the high kicks in heels thing would just land me in the hospital.

I tried to get a decent shot, but I ended up fussing too much with the camera settings and came up with this.



Relatively early on in the set, Siouxsie played a trio of oldies, starting off with "Dear Prudence," the Beatles cover that has sort of become hers. She followed this with "Hong Kong Garden," at which point, a crazed graver began dancing into everyone around her. Since when do gravers mosh? Her dreadlocked boyfriend had to restrain her after she knocked over three or four $10 cocktails. Concluding the fan-favorite portion of the show was "Night Shift." That's about as boo-spooky Siouxsie as you can get without delving into Join Hands.

When Siouxsie gravitated back towards the new music, the bulk of the crowd of people around me began gabbing like they were out on the smoking patio. Sacrilege!

Siouxsie closed the main set with "Into a Swan," off her latest album, which was fitting given the circumstances of the album and this tour. Although Siouxsie has always been an icon in her own right, this is the first time in her 30+ year career that she hasn't been part of a band. Anyone who saw the Banshees or the Creatures live could tell you that the concerts were never about Siouxsie. She may have been dancing up at the mic, but the performance was still about the unit rather than a sole performer. Even though Siouxsie tours with a band now, it's still her backing band. She's in the spotlight and she's the one who will either receive praise or criticism. Much like the line in the song, Siouxsie is transformed.

For the first encore, Siouxsie played "Nicotine Stain," a very early Banshees track, and "Cish Cash," her collaboration with Basement Jaxx. Then, for the second encore, she stunned virtually everyone in the audience by covering "These Boots Were Made for Walking."

Siouxsie is still so freakin' cool.

Photos by Liz O. except where noted.