THE ETTES, MONOCHROMATIC, KENTUCKY PROFIT, FRANK BLACK
If It’s Not Free, It Better Be Worth It (Published in OCB, 10-20-06)
I am not a musician; however, I am a fan of music. That matters because like 90 percent of the population I spend a large amount of my income on albums, shows, band t-shirts sold off of a rickety folding tables in the back of crowded venues, and watered down vodka sodas. What’s my point? Well, like you, musically savvy yet cash conscious reader, I’m putting my money out there and I want to make sure it’s worth it (for you and me).
Down off my soap box.
The Ettes played Thursday at Park Ave CDs. You could tell they were trying, but it just wasn’t enough. The LA-based, pop-punk wanna-be cutesy 60ish three piece were extremely nervous. Their songs had a straight forward 4/4 beats and predictable Hives-ish riffs. I don’t know if it was nerves, the 75 degree room, or the ruffled shirt underneath his black, three-button vest but the band’s bassist, Jem, was sweating quite profusely. Singer/Guitarist Coco, all June Carter-Cash with a big bouffant and black leotard dress over black tights, sang nasally as her voice wobbled and cracked. In between songs she tried to bantered with the audience like a soft spoken eight year old, never finishing a whole sentence, her voice trailing off while attempting to tune her guitar. Poni, the drummer, also adorned in neck ruffles, would speed up and slow down throughout the set all the while keeping her eyes closed.
They seemed like kids trying to live the dream, which I can’t fault them for. Hopefully with their first tour they gain some stage presence, personality, and/or genuine musicianship; instead of being cutesy they were just dreadful (thank goodness it was free).
An act that I did not feel so upset about disliking was local band Monochromatic who played Thursday at The Social. Their overconfidence and cockiness left them null of any sympathy for their poor set. It took the four piece over 45 minutes to set up. There was impeccable shiny gear adorned across the stage and seemed like they knew what they were doing (or they were just suburban kids whose parents like to fork over dough for expensive equipment to ensure Junior’s future as a rock star). As soon as the first song began I realized I should have stayed at Bar-B-Q Bar.
Vocalist/ guitarist Cole NeSmith sounded like a poor man’s Brandon Boyd and dressed exactly like Rivers Cuomo. He sang out of key in an emo-whiney tone and panted into the mic between syllables. Each sentence was over dramatic and forced. Guitarist Greg Perkins, with his polished Thinline Telecaster, would attempt wanky solos and miss random notes here and there. Every song was predictable and the show was simply boring; they had there ballads, emo-ballads, and rock ballads (there was little variation at all). Most of the crowd, except for one drunken fist-pumping gentleman in the front, looked around as if waiting for the show to be over. If the band would spend as much time on their music as they seemingly do on their scene-kid-brigade, faux-hawk hair cuts, there could be some improvement.
Friday was to be my saving grace: Frank Black at House of Blues. I got there just in time to catch the train-wreck of an opening act Kentucky Prophet. The deuce-and-half Caucasian rapper stood by his lonesome on the large HOB stage. With backing tracks he rapped (and I using that term generously) about obesity, obscenities, chicken, and mundane daily activities that he partakes in such as going to the market or watching television. I guess it was supposed to be a joke. After each song not a chuckle was heard. No one got the joke.
Black took the stage at 10:15 p.m. I’d seen The Pixies (Black’s claim to fame/ 90’s alternative rock band) play before, but it was the first time I’d seen his solo stuff in concert. It began well. Dressed in a black suit he started with Calistan, which is a fun rhymey diddy. The set continued and I guess the novelty wore off a bit without Kim Deal (my favorite Pixie and Black’s center of envy).
It seemed as if right before the show Black told his band that they could rock… but not too hard. The guitarist, bassist, and drummer were all very strict in their movements and came off very rigid. Black’s voice and guitar were way up in the mix and overpowered all the other instruments. It was the Frank Black Show and he was to be the only one to move and play freely. The music was great and sounded identical to his albums, but the stage show was up-tight and somewhat uncomfortable. Again, I feel hesitant about downing a legend, but if you have fans/consumers paying $22 a ticket, the artist should at least make an effort to entertain them, not just rely on their steet-cred and decide to be a pretentious stage hog.
So what’s the cash-flow verdict? Straight up, if I had to pay for these shows this week, let me tell you, I’d be pissed.
REASONS TO STOP LETTING YOUR TIVO RUN YOUR LIFE THIS WEEK
Friday: Jenny Lewis and the Watson Twins @ Firestone (6:30 p.m.) – Sweet as pie three piece alt-country/ indie rock group.
Saturday: The Future Exes @ Austin’s Coffee and Film (9 p.m.) – Self-proclaimed in your face rock.
Sunday: Fright Night @ The Peacock Room (9 p.m.) – Scary themes and tasty licks with blues/ rock guitarist Jeff Nolan.
Monday: MiPod Monday @ The Matador – Bring your iPod and impress your friends with your impeccable music taste.
Tuesday: Sol.illaquists of Sound @ The Social (9 p.m.) – Crazy talented, local, jazzy hip-hop outfit.
Wednesday: Celtic Frost @ Backbooth (7 p.m.) – Get over hump day with overzealous speed metal.
Thursday: Tapes ‘n Tapes @ The Social (9 p.m.) – Lovable indie-rock foursome.
I am not a musician; however, I am a fan of music. That matters because like 90 percent of the population I spend a large amount of my income on albums, shows, band t-shirts sold off of a rickety folding tables in the back of crowded venues, and watered down vodka sodas. What’s my point? Well, like you, musically savvy yet cash conscious reader, I’m putting my money out there and I want to make sure it’s worth it (for you and me).
Down off my soap box.
The Ettes played Thursday at Park Ave CDs. You could tell they were trying, but it just wasn’t enough. The LA-based, pop-punk wanna-be cutesy 60ish three piece were extremely nervous. Their songs had a straight forward 4/4 beats and predictable Hives-ish riffs. I don’t know if it was nerves, the 75 degree room, or the ruffled shirt underneath his black, three-button vest but the band’s bassist, Jem, was sweating quite profusely. Singer/Guitarist Coco, all June Carter-Cash with a big bouffant and black leotard dress over black tights, sang nasally as her voice wobbled and cracked. In between songs she tried to bantered with the audience like a soft spoken eight year old, never finishing a whole sentence, her voice trailing off while attempting to tune her guitar. Poni, the drummer, also adorned in neck ruffles, would speed up and slow down throughout the set all the while keeping her eyes closed.
They seemed like kids trying to live the dream, which I can’t fault them for. Hopefully with their first tour they gain some stage presence, personality, and/or genuine musicianship; instead of being cutesy they were just dreadful (thank goodness it was free).
An act that I did not feel so upset about disliking was local band Monochromatic who played Thursday at The Social. Their overconfidence and cockiness left them null of any sympathy for their poor set. It took the four piece over 45 minutes to set up. There was impeccable shiny gear adorned across the stage and seemed like they knew what they were doing (or they were just suburban kids whose parents like to fork over dough for expensive equipment to ensure Junior’s future as a rock star). As soon as the first song began I realized I should have stayed at Bar-B-Q Bar.
Vocalist/ guitarist Cole NeSmith sounded like a poor man’s Brandon Boyd and dressed exactly like Rivers Cuomo. He sang out of key in an emo-whiney tone and panted into the mic between syllables. Each sentence was over dramatic and forced. Guitarist Greg Perkins, with his polished Thinline Telecaster, would attempt wanky solos and miss random notes here and there. Every song was predictable and the show was simply boring; they had there ballads, emo-ballads, and rock ballads (there was little variation at all). Most of the crowd, except for one drunken fist-pumping gentleman in the front, looked around as if waiting for the show to be over. If the band would spend as much time on their music as they seemingly do on their scene-kid-brigade, faux-hawk hair cuts, there could be some improvement.
Friday was to be my saving grace: Frank Black at House of Blues. I got there just in time to catch the train-wreck of an opening act Kentucky Prophet. The deuce-and-half Caucasian rapper stood by his lonesome on the large HOB stage. With backing tracks he rapped (and I using that term generously) about obesity, obscenities, chicken, and mundane daily activities that he partakes in such as going to the market or watching television. I guess it was supposed to be a joke. After each song not a chuckle was heard. No one got the joke.
Black took the stage at 10:15 p.m. I’d seen The Pixies (Black’s claim to fame/ 90’s alternative rock band) play before, but it was the first time I’d seen his solo stuff in concert. It began well. Dressed in a black suit he started with Calistan, which is a fun rhymey diddy. The set continued and I guess the novelty wore off a bit without Kim Deal (my favorite Pixie and Black’s center of envy).
It seemed as if right before the show Black told his band that they could rock… but not too hard. The guitarist, bassist, and drummer were all very strict in their movements and came off very rigid. Black’s voice and guitar were way up in the mix and overpowered all the other instruments. It was the Frank Black Show and he was to be the only one to move and play freely. The music was great and sounded identical to his albums, but the stage show was up-tight and somewhat uncomfortable. Again, I feel hesitant about downing a legend, but if you have fans/consumers paying $22 a ticket, the artist should at least make an effort to entertain them, not just rely on their steet-cred and decide to be a pretentious stage hog.
So what’s the cash-flow verdict? Straight up, if I had to pay for these shows this week, let me tell you, I’d be pissed.
REASONS TO STOP LETTING YOUR TIVO RUN YOUR LIFE THIS WEEK
Friday: Jenny Lewis and the Watson Twins @ Firestone (6:30 p.m.) – Sweet as pie three piece alt-country/ indie rock group.
Saturday: The Future Exes @ Austin’s Coffee and Film (9 p.m.) – Self-proclaimed in your face rock.
Sunday: Fright Night @ The Peacock Room (9 p.m.) – Scary themes and tasty licks with blues/ rock guitarist Jeff Nolan.
Monday: MiPod Monday @ The Matador – Bring your iPod and impress your friends with your impeccable music taste.
Tuesday: Sol.illaquists of Sound @ The Social (9 p.m.) – Crazy talented, local, jazzy hip-hop outfit.
Wednesday: Celtic Frost @ Backbooth (7 p.m.) – Get over hump day with overzealous speed metal.
Thursday: Tapes ‘n Tapes @ The Social (9 p.m.) – Lovable indie-rock foursome.
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