Tag: concert
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The Asymptomatics Celebrate New Single ‘Two Possibilities’ With A Live Performance at Flicker Theatre and Bar
Athens has been home to critically acclaimed bands throughout the decades, marking the Classic City as not only home to the University of Georgia and its students but also a booming hub for artists and musicians alike. One such band is the funky, weird but strangely groovy The Asymptomatics.
The Asymptomatics, or “the Asymps” as they are often called, is a band of nine members who have made “chaotic” the name of the game. Since its formation in 2019, the band has garnered a name for itself within the music community of Athens. After the release of three singles, they have now added one more to their list of original music. To celebrate the release of their brand new single, “Two Possibilities”, the Asymptomatics recruited a list of prominent local Athens bands to play at Flicker Theatre and Bar for a night of unforgiving energy and sound.
Walking into Flicker is always a surreal experience, particularly on the evening of a gig. From the outside, bypassers can hear the beat of the featured band while they smoke a cigarette and drink a beer. Walking through the red curtains that lead to the venue portion of the establishment, stationed in the room next to the bar, I could see a sea of people bobbing their heads to the band, Neat Freak, which was followed by Late Notice and finally, Bog Bod. The celebrated feature of the night, The Asymps, performed last. Between bands, members handed out flyers with the single’s cover art designed by Hollis Midriff and they discussed their excitement to play their cleanest-sounding single live for the first time.
The band’s set began as most of its sets do, with the lead singer Max Mahieu relentlessly jumping around the stage with the band, maintaining an aura of chaos that has defined the group’s career, particularly in the past year.
The single itself possesses an eccentric guitar-solo build-up in the outro. Though their MO is full-fledged passion, this song was a pleasant departure as it boasted a more meaningful and slower vibe. “Two Possibilities” explores that little gray area in life by rejecting the idea of black-and-white decisions and outcomes. A simple song to describe how intensely unsimple this life can be, especially when young, as the band members are.
“A lot of times it seems like there’s two possibilities but, you know, in reality, things are a lot deeper than that,” says Mahieu. “It’s not just decisions you make, it’s the decisions of the people around you and the ones you love that affect your life and affect their life.” Mahieu’s family is the inspiration behind the song, which was written by Mahieu and his mom, who is a musician herself.
It’s both happy and sad which is reflected by the musicians as they played with electricity and passion, making the audience feel the underlying irony of “Two Possibilities”. Mastered by Jason NeSmith at Chase Park Transduction, “Two Possibilities” incorporates a classic guitar solo from the lead guitar that amplifies the emotional aspect of the song.
“We wanted to have this big rock section at the end that instrumentally captures the emotion and the vibes of the song that the lyrics start at the beginning,” said Mahieu.
From there, the band immediately transitioned to play their classic, most-noteworthy hit “GTFO! (Gerald the Friendly Orangutan)” which was a lighthearted and silly conclusion to a great show.
Though the chaotic transformation of the Asymptomatics onstage is something that some would deem messy and unorganized, those with an ear for passion would comprehend that this gives the band its personality, hence its rising claim to fame within Athens. A funk outfit of shameless chaos and a force to behold.
“Two Possibilities” is out now on all platforms, with the Asymptomatic’s first full album slated for spring.
Concert Review: flipturn Glows at the Georgia Theatre
Last Friday, Florida-based flipturn brought their Shadowglow tour to the Georgia Theatre for one glorious sold-out evening with support from Athens’ beloved Hotel Fiction.
Hotel Fiction
From the second Hotel Fiction stepped on stage, it became abundantly clear that they were meant to be there as Jade Ireland’s soft vocals and Jessica Thompsons’s sharp sound balance each other out so brilliantly. Their distinct vocals allowed them to shine independently or as a duo, whenever they decided to grace the audience with some of the most incredible harmonies I have heard. This was especially true when they played their breakout hit “Astronaut Kids.” During their set, they asked the audience members to hold up their phone lights to make it feel like space and this was very consistent with the overall vibe of the show, which I can only describe as what I imagine it would feel like to attend a rave on a spaceship.
Seeing a band perform in the city they are from always elevates the experience; while I’m sure that “Athens GA” sounded phenomenal at every show, I’m willing to bet it sounded just a little sweeter in the Classic City itself. There is nothing quite like a hometown show.
They played “Man on The Moon” off their latest EP Enjoy Your Stay and not only was it my favorite song from their set, it is now one of my favorite songs from recent years—calling it phenomenal feels like an understatement, but for now that’s the word I’m landing on. I fully intend on listening to this song an absurd number of times until I physically can’t anymore. Then, picking it back up sometime around May and doing it all over again.
Towards the end, they played “Instead of us,” which is a triumphant number about putting yourself first. It is so well written that it makes me want to tell off people that didn’t even wrong me due to how empowered it made me feel. In only four minutes, the song both destroyed and rebuilt me. To close out their set, they asked the audience to sing along to their song “Monster,” but I am confident the crowd would have done this unprompted.
Every time a song ended, I was sad because I didn’t want it to be over, but once the next one started, I immediately felt on top of the world again. My biggest regret going into the show is only knowing a couple of their originals. To repent for this grave error, I will immediately be learning all of them. Although traveling to outer space may be ambitious, Hotel Fiction is certainly going places.
flipturn
I was familiar with flipturn’s music prior to the show but after hearing them during soundcheck I knew that I was in for something special. My expectations were high going into the evening, and they were absolutely shattered within ten minutes; the atmosphere in the venue was fantastic, the energy on stage was electric, and frontman Dillon Basse and bassist Madeline Jarman did high knees that put my high school tennis conditioning to shame. (They were also given sparkly cowboy hats by an audience member for “Space Cowboy” which really added to the ambiance.)
On top of being great musicians, they just seemed like great people. I watched at one point as Basse struggled to get the lyrics out, because he was too busy smiling at the audience’s response to the song. This made it clear that they were as humble as they were talented. Later, I watched as he jumped full speed into the audience while trying to crowd surf, but was unfortunately greeted by the Georgia Theatre floor instead of the loving arms of the audience. I think that he felt a full array of emotions that evening.
They have a great catalog consisting of songs with choruses that were designed to be played in front of a packed venue, and are somehow able to keep the atmosphere in the room lighthearted, even when performing songs like “Whales” and “Goddamn” that feature heavy subject matter, like dealing with suffocating pressure and mental health respectively. They have the unique ability of making a room full of people shouting the lyrics “Goddamn my mind, sign of the times / If everyone’s fine, everyone’s lying to you” feel comforting instead of daunting.
After seeing them perform “Halfway,” which features a nod to Houston, and “Chicago,” I concluded that they should write more songs that mention cities. (I would like to throw Athens’ name into the ring if they’re open to suggestions.) These are the kinds of songs that make me want to drive around with my friends and an open sunroof; they made me feel like I was in a coming-of-age movie even though I am a prehistoric 23-year-old.
While the set mainly consisted of songs from their debut album Shadowglow, released last August, as well as some earlier releases, they also covered “Everybody Wants To Rule The World” by Tears For Fears. With the way they dominated the Georgia Theatre, they just might be on track to do so.
During the encore they played “Vanilla,” a deep cut from their debut EP Heavy Colors. Basse prefaced it by telling the audience that it is not normally a part of their set, but they were making an exception since someone yelled it out earlier. Based on how the audience responded to the song, I think it was a pretty good call. At the end of their encore, they brought out Hotel Fiction to join them on stage for fan favorite “Nickel,” a song and moment that reminded me just how much fun live music can be.
They mentioned that this was their largest headline show to date, but judging by the massive amount of talent that I witnessed that evening, I have a feeling this won’t be the case for much longer.
(Sandy) Alex G at Arlene Schnitzer Concert Hall (6/8)
Quiet whispers evaporated into the echoing chambers of the Arlene Schnitzer Concert Hall as a couple hundred early attendees awaited an appearance from Philadelphia bedroom singer-songwriter, Alex Giannascoli (stage name (Sandy) Alex G). Initially gaining a core fan base from a sprawling DIY Bandcamp catalogue, Alex G’s official debut album DSU arrived in 2014 via Orchid Tapes. Following this release, Alex was signed by Domino Recording Company, who produced the fantastic 2015 follow-up Beach Music, as well as last year’s critical success, Rocket. Slated as tour opener for highly revered “touring band” Dr. Dog, Alex and his band were likely read as the underdog by a collective of bros and dads alike who were awaiting the inevitable arrival of Dr. Dog’s iconic Architecture in Helsinki cover.
This was a change of both scenery and scale for Giannascoli and co., whose last PDX appearance was at inner Eastside bar and venue, Holocene (326 Capacity), which is dwarfed in comparison to the Schnitz (2,776 cap.) In a comical and bewildering fashion, the band proudly marched their way onto stage to Tom Cochrane’s heartland rock ballad, “Life is a Highway.” “You guys like that song? I hate that song,” Alex teased while asserting the notion that they were there to pull the rug from underneath any stern or composed undertones of the formal concert hall.
Draped in deflated jeans and an assortment of half-buttoned patterned shirts, Giannascoli and his crew assembled themselves on stage in what resembled a triumphant talent show debut from a high school rock band (an image that doesn’t quite match with the complexity and maturity of his divergent sound). The band initiated the set with tranquil and reflective number “Remember,” the opening track of 2010 online contribution, Race. “Remember” unveils Alex’s longing for isolation, as he sang it live through gritted teeth with a stronger sense of urgency than is heard on the recording’s vocals. Without sparing a second between songs, the band jumped right into bouncy folk tune, “Proud,” followed by charming aural builder, “People.”
Thus far, the set seemed tailored to feature Alex’s more approachable material for show-goers who likely had not been exposed to his craft before this evening. Standing at the foot of the stage, Alex appeared routinely distracted by the traffic of patrons being led by staff to their appropriate section in the seated venue; frequently shifting his gaze to the far-too-bright flashlights illuminating all too frequently. Cruising at the same pace of previous tracks, the band rolled into a stripped rendition of laid-back surprise hit, “Bobby,” which was met with delight from the budding audience that had begun to permeate the concert hall. In a genuine and humbled gesture, Alex thanked the audience for cheering so much, still showing signs of wonder at the following he has accumulated. This tender moment was immediately followed with beautifully sarcastic one-liner: “alright, this next song is an original.” The boy knows balance.
Just as the audience had begun to feel settled by the comfortable folk-jams, the show abruptly pivoted, coming unhinged with distorted guitars and distant melodies; calling back to early inspirations from indie rock pioneers Built to Spill, Elliott Smith and Guided by Voices, respectfully. The band soared through heavy hitters “Serpent Is Lord,” “Bug,” and “Kicker;” each building atop the last in intensity. Dueling guitar bridges and bends were met with equally powerful percussion from a drum kit that appeared as if it had endured this sort of ritualistic beating on more than one occasion. Taking momentary solace, the band offered a taste of Alex’s masterful composition skills, utilizing the neglected keys on stage for Beach Music’s “Thorns,” where moody tonal shifts are met with upbeat scale climbs.
A prolonged absence in sound lingered as the band prepared for the next song. The uncomfortable silence was unexpectedly interrupted as Alex ferociously screamed, “Silence!” at full lung capacity, reminding us yet again to always remain on our toes in his presence. Offering no further context for the outburst, the band jumped into “Poison Root,” a complex track that had difficulty taking shape in a live setting, overcompensating for absent sounds in the wrong instruments, which ultimately drowned the song entirely. Bright burning stage lights illuminated the Schnitzer, revealing an almost packed house by this point in the show. The multi-instrumentalist then strutted to the keyboard as audible compliments of “sexiness” were shouted from the crowd, acknowledged by the singer who then went on to introduce his “sexy” band.
Latecomers and first-timers unfamiliar with the diverse soundscape of (Sandy) Alex G were subsequently exposed to radically experimental tracks “Brick” and “Horse” off of the 2017 album. The band didn’t hold back in the slightest in the building intensity—especially Alex, who cradled the keyboard and hovered over it, alternating from abrasive screams to menacing whines atop the chaotic swell of sound. In keeping with the tracklist of Rocket, the band smoothly transitioned into melodic pop number “Sportstar,” a successful antidote to the frantic environment they had previously worked so hard to build up. The band wrapped up their set with Rocket’s album closer “Guilty;” a peppy jazz ballad that allowed the band to spontaneously improvise, answering guitar licks with dancing keys, and vice versa.
The group seemingly appeared to have forgotten that the audience was even present as they laughed on stage with one another, while Alex nonsensically slapped at the keyboard, exemplifying that even amidst their rising fame, they’re still just a group of dorky jazz-band buds. Once the extended jam had concluded, Alex chugged the remainder of his drink and issued a simple “thanks” before exiting the stage to a deafening applause, ensuring that (Sandy) Alex G’s momentum is only just beginning.
JR JR and the Teragram Ballroom
“I bet those blink,” my lady-friend and I muttered to one another, pointing at the giant JR JR letters that provided the backdrop to an otherwise barren stage. This was just the second in a string of underestimations about the Detroit-hailing, genre-defying (Dale Earnhardt) JR JR. My first misconception came long before I arrived at the Teragram Ballroom that night.
About a month before the show I learned that Josh Epstein and Daniel Zott, the talented team that comprises Dale Earnhardt Jr Jr, were trimming the bearded racecar driver from their name in favor of the shorter, simpler moniker, JR JR. Initially, I was worried that the name change signified a shift from their Indie roots to a more mainstream, marketable bubblegum pop. I don’t know why I was so worried about a name change. Maybe it was because I, like many others, was drawn first to the name before being moved by the music.
I set out to do some research on the name change… and when I say research I mean a light, leisurely Google browse. I found that the band penned a letter in regards to the name change and posted it on their official website. In the note, they talk about why they chose the name in the first place:
“Band names are a weird thing to begin with, but we figured if we named our band Dale Earnhardt Jr Jr there would be no expectations for what we were meant to sound like. Something that bizarre would just have to be listened to and judged without preconception.”
This is exactly what drew me to JR JR. How could I not check out a band named after this guy… But it turns out that their plan worked a little too well. Their music gained well-deserved recognition and as their audience expanded, so too did the confusion revolving around their name:
“We’ve had people drive long distances to shows only to be disappointed when they realize it’s a neurotic Jew and a wild-haired gentile from Detroit they’ve paid to see. A number of times now we’ve received hope-filled inquiries from people who have dying relatives that only want to meet Dale Earnhardt Jr. (the driver) before they pass. Those sorts of interactions feel a little voyeuristic and eerie, and even attempting to simply clarify the situation means you’ve added a moment of embarrassment to someone’s day when they’re already going through a lot.”
Touché, JR JR… one way to shut up a guy who questions your name-changing intentions is to hit him with the most logical, sensitive explanation imaginable. Another way is to put out a catchy, endearing album that manages to build upon past projects… and that’s just what they did with the newly self-titled album, JR JR.
In a lot of ways, the new album is tied to time. Sure, this might seem obvious considering the first track is called “As Time Goes,” but the entire project deals with time spent, time wasted, and time wanted. Songs like “Gone” deal with the past and creeping nostalgia. In “Philip the Engineer” JR JR use a dystopian story arch in order to convey the idea that “time makes grown ups out of kids.” And then there’s the personal favorite, “James Dean,” which manages to capture catchiness while conceding that “I’m not dumb, but I’ve wasted time.”
In fact, every single track on this album (and their albums of old) somehow manages to remain incredibly catchy while dealing with meaningful things like the idea of time. It’s weird to find yourself swaying and singing along to a song about divorce (“A Haunting”), but it’s also refreshing. JR JR take heavy thoughts and emotions and balance those feelings with catchy choruses in order to capture specific moments in time. Everything they’ve done feels like an honest pursuit of artistic and emotional expression. I think that’s one of the reasons why JR JR has not only found success, but also been able to create catchy, enduring songs. It’s their honesty…
Which brings me back to the Teragram Ballroom on October 10th. Fair warning: I’ve loved JR JR since I first heard them a couple years back, but I really didn’t know what to expect from their live show outside of some inevitably amazing whistling. Needless to say, I wasn’t disappointed.
First off, I’d be a buffoon (I knew I’d be able to sneak the word ‘buffoon’ into something someday) not to mention Hippo Campus, who opened for JR JR. Their set was strong and they looked like they were having more fun than everyone. What do you do when you want an encore from the opener? Well, you write about the concert and hope that said opener sees said article and agrees to get drunk with you someday.
As the Teragram Ballroom pulsed with Hippo Campus’ energy, I noticed how much it reminded me of 40 Watt Club in Athens. Before the Athenian nostalgia set in too hard those JR JR letter lights started doing far more than “blinking,” as Josh, Daniel, and the band took to the stage, opening with “As Time Goes.” I was blown away by both the sound quality and the light show. I mean I really can’t express how much I underestimated those damn letter lights.
JR JR weaved their way through new material as well as old. They had the whole room dancing during songs and laughing in between. At some point after their cover of Madonna’s “Like a Virgin” but before they highlighted the different Detroits (Kid Rock, Insane Clown Posse, Eminem, and them), I realized that JR JR is able to do what they do not solely because they’re talented, but because they’re honest and passionate. It’s who they are, and it shows on stage as well as on their albums.
Not to get too “Hallmark-y” here, but it’s pretty rare to find a band that creates catchy songs that actually say something of worth. Don’t get me wrong, bubblegum pop has its place, but I’ll forever prefer the sweet, soulful sounds of JR JR. After a brief exit from the stage, JR JR answered the crowd’s calls for an encore. They returned wearing these incredible jackets. As they ended the night with “Nothing But Our Love,” it was clear that that’s exactly what they had from the tightly packed audience at the Teragram Ballroom.
Juna / Waitress / Monsoon / Howling Tongues at 40 Watt on February 19
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This past Thursday night at the 40 Watt saw a packed, diverse evening of what rock has been up to in the past three decades. It was also the debut event for local startup Aria Promotions, and they did a damn good job – the show was almost sold out.
Opener Juna delivered sludgy, math-intwined boomers. Between the Prozac haze guitar chords, quirky time signatures, and buffet table drumming, they definitely qualify as new members of the emo revival. A few of their meandering guitar noodles seemed ripped straight from a Sunny Day Real Estate record. Despite technical issues at the beginning of the set, they were still able to churn out winding high-passion sonic explorations. Lead singer Hunter Whitehead is probably the most impassioned bassist the Classic City has ever seen, and I was halfway convinced drummer Sasha Schilbrack-Cole was gonna permanently maim his kit. They were also really, really loud – once again, thank the heavens for We’re hEAR For You.
Waitress was up next, and at this point it seemed that the night existed on an exponential \m/(>.<)\m/ graph. They sounded like a Black Flag-Descendents intermediary, and even on their slower, more intricate songs, they still sounded like a metal Dismemberment Plan. Lead Brian McGhee was beyond delightful, basically standing in as a stand up between their ultra-tight songs. He waxed poetic about everything from Clickhole to Cliff Bars, and was charitable enough to tell each of his bandmates just how hot they are. In terms of straight technicality, the night went to drummer Ryan Houchens, who gave me Whiplash if you know what I mean.
But then Monsoon took the stage, and holy SHIT. For just three Athens kids, they made a whole lot of really great noise. Singer and guitarist Sienna was a natural showwoman, prowling and climbing the stage like a feral bilingual lunatic. Their pseudo-Americanized J punk / coked up Beach Boys vibe is something I’ve been searching for my whole life and didn’t even know it. If Clocked were a band, it would be Monsoon. There’s nothing more enjoyable than watching three obvious best friends absolutely weird-out and wreck a set of songs that don’t quite sound like anyone else. I feel like an idiot for not having seen them before, and would now like to publicly swear my undying allegiance to this band.
Then Atlanta’s The Howling Tongues came on amidst smoke machines and a light show that would make Kanye West say, “Dudes, you’re doing a lot.” While a great technical band – they had clearly practiced their set and song changes ad infinitum – they were playing a bluesy brand of rock and roll that’s really not supposed to sound this rehearsed. They were pleasant enough, and on the surface they were great; but they felt an odd choice as city-slicker closers juxtaposed to the earnest, scrappy punk of the Athens bands that opened for them. Some garage rock bands who deal in Rolling Stones riffage fall victim to the uncanny valley of soul vs. precision, and it looks like the Howling Tongues are one such band. Their whole schtick felt too familiar – making a big show of chugging Jack Daniels; songs involving “I’ll give it to you” double entendres; women smoking cigarettes in red dresses. Every “Whassup Athens?!” and “How y’all doin’ tonight?!” platitude felt empty and forced. It didn’t help that lead singer Taylor Harlow asked permission to “play some rock and rooollll” from the audience between every.single.song, and his playful joshing of the crowd’s lack of energy became uncomfortable berating by night’s end. And I wasn’t the only one who noted the irony of the Tongues’ “Ain’t Too Proud To Beg” cover. Basically, this is a group who’s proper to their own detriment, and doesn’t appear comfortable in their own skin. Loosening up would do ’em a lot of good.
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Juna
Sylvan Esso at Variety Playhouse on Jan. 15
Whoever decided opposites attract must have been talking about Sylvan Esso’s Amelia Meath and Nick Sanborn combining EDM with indie folk vocals straight from the hills of Appalachia at a sold-out Variety Playhouse on Jan. 15.
The duo, based out of Durham, N.C., started the show off with a high-powered rendition of “Could I Be,” a track that perfectly showcases Sanborn’s ability to mirror and echo Meath’s poetic lyrics about making it big with hypnotic bass.
Meath hijacked the crowd’s attention with her expertly executed verses during “Dress” and ended the track by borrowing: I woke up like this, from Beyoncé’s “Flawless” – very much to the crowd’s delight.
“Coffee,” which is arguably Sylvan Esso’s most popular song, featured more subtle rhythmic bass lines from Sanborn and was beautifully delivered with a raw vocal authority and climax that really ignited the crowd’s excitement.
“Hey Mami” begins low and slow with Sanborn’s skillful looping of Meath’s voice, as the piece quickly morphs into an all-out dub pop free for all, followed in perfect succession by the enormously danceable “H.S.K.T.”
Ironically, “Play It Right,” which touted lyrics like; When the sounds come together so close to my face/ It’s no wonder we wonder, was a track by Meath’s earlier project, Mountain Men, that Sanborn remixed back in 2013, launching their creative endeavors.
In the end, the duo played all ten tracks from their self-titled (and only) album. Meath extended her gratitude to the crowd for embracing their sound and debut.
During the encore, the duo performed a new song for the first time with more of a math rock influence. Sanborn admitted to Vinyl after the show that the song was so new that it “doesn’t even have a title yet.”
Despite both Meath and Sanborn’s successes in their previous projects that highlight their own personal talents, they have managed to combine their contrasting musical perspectives into one cohesive and unexpectedly thrilling musical experience. Sanborn’s powerful beats breathe life into Meath’s eerie indie croons; both are incredibly proficient in their respective sounds, but the way they come together is truly magnetic.
Old Crow Medicine Show at The Classic Center on November 20
If you were raised in a place anywhere near the South, you’re probably used to being surrounded by some type of folk or country music (even if it’s unwillingly). However, within the decade, national radio is starting to hear a greater variety of music and a brand new genre. That genre, which falls somewhere between alternative country, bluegrass, and folk/Americana, has given us a number of gems- The Avett Brothers, The Devil Makes Three, and Old Crow Medicine Show.
In a day and age full of drinking anthems, the popularity of “Wagon Wheel” ranks somewhere among “Sweet Caroline” and “Free Bird”. The song, co-written by Bob Dylan, has launched Old Crow Medicine Show into stardom. Being within this potluck genre means “Wagon Wheel” is a top pick for a variety of radio stations and listeners alike.
Although I wasn’t sure what to expect when seeing Old Crow Medicine Show at The Classic Center on November 20, I have to say that I was pleasantly surprised.
Upon arriving, I noticed the crowd was very mixed, ranging from young college students to senior citizens. The huge theatre with possible seating of 2,600 filled the complete lower level and a majority of the lower balcony, after the doors opened at 7pm.
The night promptly started at 8, with Dom Flemons, previous member of the popular Carolina Chocolate Drops. Flemons, complete with a tilted hat and suspenders, introduced the audience to an instrument called “the bones”. Similar to playing the spoons, except with animal bones (hence the name), this was only one contribution to Flemon’s unique old-time talent. His distinct voice, skilled banjo pickin’, and alive stage presence was an interesting pre-cursor that got everyone anxious to see the main act.
After about a half hour intermission, the lights among the crowds again dimmed and revealed the headliner, which consisted of seven men, each posted at a different instrument and adorning a different pair of cowboy boots.
Throughout the performance, the members of Old Crow switched between a multitude of instruments; including guitars, vocals, dobro, fiddle, upright bass, drums, banjo and even an organ. But one thing was constant: the energy and vivacity.
Fitting together and reaching a point of perfect sync can be a struggle for all bands, especially big ones, but Old Crow had no problem with this.
Nor did they have a problem connecting with the audience. From the very beginning, the two lead singers, Ketch Secor and Christopher “Critter” Fuqua, were very verbal and weren’t short of Georgian references. Each audience member could relate to something they said, whether it was talks of Commerce, Gainesville, or Madison County, or distinct Georgian landmarks like the Braves and I-85.
Was it rehearsed? I’m not sure and it didn’t matter. The audience connected to what they were saying, right down to their Southern drawwww-ls.
But those weren’t the only stories they told. The band members also explained how they picked up ultra talented pedal steel player Gill Landry, busking on the streets of New Orleans. And apparently, after Bob Dylan heard Darius Rucker’s cover of “Wagon Wheel” on the radio, he sent Old Crow another song, “Sweet Amarillo”, the third track on their latest album Remedy.
The story they didn’t tell? Cory Younts, who performed a trifecta of drumming, organ playing and whistling, has also played mandolin with fellow Nashville star Jack White.
Needless to say, by the end of the concert, the immense talent in the room was obvious- of each musician and of the group as a whole. Although the pit had been standing since the beginning, the rest of the room stood up around “Wagon Wheel” and didn’t take back to their seats.
Old Crow invited Flemons to re-join the stage and from that moment until the very last, the theatrical performance became more than just that: it became a good time. The only thing worse than a boring audience is a boring performer, and this show was the complete opposite. If I walked in with a tinge of doubt, then I left it inside that building.
Old Crow Medicine Show is certainly a show, and a show worth seeing for anyone that enjoys genuine talent-driven artists and one rowdy, hell of a time.
Dale Earnhardt Jr. Jr. at Terminal West on November 11
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Approaching the box office at Terminal West on Tuesday night, I could hear what sounded like an acoustic version of Dale Earnhardt Jr. Jr.‘s “Beautiful Dream” and I had to check my watch. Doors at 8pm. Music at 9pm. And there’s an opener, right? It’s not even 9:30. How can this be? Am I really missing the show? And one of my favorite songs at that? Sh*t.
I walk inside and indeed, it is true. Detroit boys Daniel Zott and Joshua Epstein are on stage, instruments in hand, singing away. It was only after the next song (which they explained was written for the first album but didn’t make the cut) that I learned what was happening here. The opening act didn’t show. Dale Earnhardt Jr. Jr. was opening for themselves. Sort of awkward. Sort of awesome. They continued with a couple covers, admitting they were killing time, ended with The Beach Boys’ “God Only Knows,” and let the crowd know they’d be back out in a bit.
Returning to the stage after the typical 20ish minute break, the duo are now joined by a live drummer and multi-instrumentalist in the backstage to fill out that bigger sound we were missing in their stripped-down opening set and clad in different outfits (Daniel even dropped the blanket he had wrapped himself in and wrestled his guitar strap over). Like a whole new band, right?
Beginning the “real” set with “Morning Thought,” the first song off their 2011 album It’s a Corporate World, they cruised through a handful of familiar favorites employing the energy and explosiveness we’ve come to love from these guys, with Joshua wasting no time hopping off stage and getting down into the crowd only three songs into the set.
Their newest single, “James Dean” was prefaced with an anecdote explaining that they released the track without the knowledge or consent of their record label, and albeit lacking label support, it’s gone on to be the most successful song they’ve ever put out. Personally, it’s not a favorite. But the crowd most certainly had a more palpable reaction than to any other song so far in the evening, which included some great ones… (“Don’t Tell Me”, “Simple Girl”, “Vocal Chords”…)
Following the new with the old, next up was “When I Open My Eyes” trailed by one of my favorite songs of the evening “Run” off their 2013 release The Speed of Things. This one was a close second to the super-melodic “War Zone” which came up after they played another new one, titled “In the Middle.” This new song was much more promising than “James Dean”… I kept thinking of “Burning Down the House” every time they went into the chorus. Not a bad thing at all.
The telephone mic Josh had been using on and off throughout the show gets called into action to mic his sax for “War Zone,” and they closed the main set out with the anthemic “Almost Lost Detroit” before returning with “A Haunting” to open up the encore. Complete with bubbles galore and the most wild light show we had seen thus far in the evening, they continued with arguably their biggest hit and certainly most dance-inducing song “If You Didn’t See Me [Then You Weren’t On The Dancefloor]”.
The evening closed on a make-you-want-to-hold-hands-with-the-person-next-to-you note with “Nothing But Our Love” and both Joshua and Daniel immediately bolted from the stage to the merch booth, embracing clamoring fans and happily signing countless autographs.
If opening for themselves wasn’t already a fairly big hint, this was a true sign that this couple of Detroit boys, despite their success, haven’t lost their humility and gratitude for their supporters. A good reason to keep on loving Dale Earnhardt Jr. Jr. and coming out to enjoy their rowdy and shamelessly enjoyable live shows.
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Roky Erickson with Black Angels at Terminal West
My two roommates and I went to see Roky Erickson. We were anxious to see what kind of people would be at a show featuring Roky Erickson (obviously The Black Angels headlined). We walked in behind a middle-aged double date. One of the women was wearing gold metallic go-go boots. Of course, The Black Angels are a psychedelic-rock band, so I was expecting oddities like this one. It was a sold out show.
We walked in in the middle of Roky Erickson’s performance, and I cried a little on the inside. I wanted to see him walk on, but I can imagine it: probably simply and without acknowledging there was a crowd of Black Angel fans before him. Roky Erickson got his start in 1966 after co-founding The 13th Floor Elevators. Later in 1974, “Two Headed Dog (Red Temple Prayer)” debuted a more rock and roll side of Roky, as compared to his original psychedelic style. “Two Headed Dog” became a single, which he of course, featured at the show. I assumed he was the reason most of the older folks showed up. He wasn’t alone on stage, though. He was accompanied by three guitarists, a beautiful keyboardist and a drummer, all of which were young and healthy. Roky seemed out of place. He still has long hair, although more gray and he seemed to be looking at the guitarists at either side of him, looking for a nod of approval I was looking forward to seeing him by himself. I wanted to see him on a stool with a guitar singing, “I Love the Living You”. Roky is the epitome of raw, so much so that his acoustic songs become revelatory. He is the only artist that can bring tears to my eyes and yet sing so simply. Nonetheless, he was there, in the flesh, a legend. I was glad to know Roky existed outside of my head. He left as simply as I assume he came out.
Enough of my swooning over Roky Erickson. The crowd multiplied, along with random puffs of smoke overhead (“eh-hem”). There was still a varied age group. To be honest, I had never listened to Black Angels prior to this night. The stage was set with four stand-alone canvases and one large canvas backdrop. Projections splattered the stage with trippy colors and star images. The music played but no Black Angels. I could feel the excitement gathering, and the crowd grew louder, but still, no Black Angels. After two or three minutes of this titillation, they walked on. I was expecting a grand entrance, but I guess you don’t need that when you’re the Black Angels. The crowd went wild, as the cliché goes, and they began. The drummer, a shaggy haired girl that looked like she could stare anyone to death, played a heavy, slow beat. Then the vocalist broke in. This was literally a psychedelic experience – not just The Black Angels but the event as a whole. To my right was a young, sweet couple and to my left a guy that looked like Mick Jagger’s clone. I was still having post-Roky effects, and it was all too much. I wouldn’t have missed this show for the world. It was a once in a lifetime experience, and I shared it with two great people, and that is what makes a concert review-worthy.
Austra: Feel It, Live
I didn’t tear up during Austra’s heart-wrenching “Home,” with Katie Stelmanis’ opera-trained vocals and strong repetitive keyboard transitioning into upbeat —but still terribly lonely— electro-pop. I wasn’t alone in my car this time; I was at a dive-bar and venue in East Atlanta called The Earl, staring at Stelmanis’ knee-length culottes and platform shoes, the neon blinking umbrella-lights, and the instruments amid the ever-glowing MacBooks…and I was dancing— I hate dancing.
My rhythm-less moves were irrelevant — Stelmanis herself dances like a football player stretching, shifting her weight between feet as she squats behind the keyboard. “So, I dance with nothing/ So, I dance for free,” Stelmanis sang, opening the set with “What We Done?,” a reminder that if music moves me, it’s my move to make. Perhaps it was this that let me lose myself; perhaps it had something to do with the comfort brought by her casual presence in the crowd during the opening band, DIANA.
If I hadn’t already noticed, DIANA’s frontwoman, Carmen Elle, still would have given away the band’s whereabouts. “Out of all the bands we’re touring with, Austra is our favorite,” Elle told the audience, pointing out the members and coiling back, admitting her ‘dad joke,’ as the two Toronto-based bands are the only ones on the tour. Elle’s conversational nature flowed throughout their set like their heavy bass, personifying the band’s dreamy chillwave not only with her ethereal airy vocals but also comments to the crowd. Slowly grooving in an oversized tee shirt and a baseball cap, while occasionally sipping from a mug rather than the usual bottled water or can of beer, Elle seemed a model for the tranquilized sleepy 80’s sound of DIANA. With only one eight-track album, Perpetual Surrender, the setlist was hardly a surprise, though the show allowed amplification and improvisation as everything got a few notches louder, faster, and more melodramatic. When DIANA closed with New House, which was cheesily dedicated to Atlanta, the audience seemed sadder to say goodbye than impatient to get on with the headlining act — a rarity as refreshing as the word “y’all” seemed to be for Elle.
This sentiment drastically reversed with the arrival of the fashionably late. Anxiety grew with cramping of the front row, and the many minutes spent waiting seemed longer as the members of Austra could be clearly seen past the corridor marked “EMPLOYEES ONLY.” Single-file, they stepped onstage — the female drummer, the swankily dressed bassist, the male keyboardist in shorty shorts and lipstick, and the beautiful face and voice of the band, Katie Stelmanis. Applause settled, and with the quiet open for “What We Done?,” Stelamanis’ vocals were naked and fresh against the humid air filling the venue — serenading an explosion halfway through the song, as what begins as shy becomes upbeat and sexy. Paving the way for the set, more songs from their sophomore album Olympia were played, though fans didn’t groan at the idea of hearing mostly newer songs — they welcomed it, especially with gems like “Painful Like,” “Forgive Me,” and their darkest pop track, “Home.” Of course, fans were also relieved to hear some tracks from their debut album, Feel It Break, namely “Beat and The Pulse,” which everybody seemed to preserve the most energy for. “The Choke” and “Darken Her Horse” also had fans enamored with the band’s understanding that all great dance tracks have to build tension before letting it break free. When slow drumbeats met the chiming high-pitch keyboard for “Lose It,” the crowd did just that, alongside Stelmanis’ wordless soprano and her duet with DIANA’s Elle in the last verse.
Numbed by Austra’s live performance of opera uniquely blended with synthesized goth-pop, it was easy to forget that the lit umbrellas lining the stage were the only visuals accompanying the show. It was easy to forget that the back-up vocalists, twins from the band Tasseomancy, were absent from the venue — leaving the drummer, Maya Postepski, to chime in. I almost forgot that a personal favorite, “The Future,” was nicked from the setlist. Though none of these missing pieces left the show feeling incomplete — Austra’s music, Stelmanis standing at the edge of the stage belting lyrics with a vocal range I can only imagine would feel truly painful after over an hour of singing, was enough. They didn’t mask their set with visual performance, because they didn’t need to.
If Stelmanis’ vocal chords hurt, she didn’t let fans know. Instead, she stood by the merch table with her bassist and members of DIANA, humoring fans wanting pictures instead of tee shirts. Rather than sneaking out early, she stayed late, saying, “I’ve got nowhere to be” as they thanked her for her time.
I left the venue feeling giddy, those lonely lyrics to “Home” still ringing in my head.
