Seattle Subsonic - March, 2011
Mike McCready and Flight To Mars – A Benefit for Crohn's & Colitis Foundation of America
(Note: This is a preview. For a review of the actual show, click here: Flight to Mars Show)
For those of you who don’t know, Pearl Jam’s Mike McCready, in addition to doing a bit of tracking on Kristen Ward albums, has another band, a UFO tribute band, Flight to Mars, that will be playing at the Showbox at the Market on Friday, April 8. Now, before you question the choice of bands deserving of such homage, I have it on very good authority that these guys are great, that they rock, so I’m going even though I couldn’t tell you anything about the music of UFO. Sometimes it’s best just to experience live music new and fresh and see what effect it has on the soul.
And besides, how often can you see a musician like McCready in a place as small as the Showbox? Back in 1986, I did once see Bo Diddly and B.B. King in such a venue, and I must say to see such players not 20 feet away on a smallish stage was nothing short of spectacular. At such times, it almost doesn’t matter what they play just to be able to see them play, actually see the fingers fretting chords and be close enough to discern the difference audibly and visually between a D and a D minor. So I’m going, and I’ll stand up front like a fan and cheer and shout in between the scribblings in my notebook and then in the wee hours of the night put a few words down about the show.
And it’s a benefit show for the Crohn’s and Colitis Foundation of America’s Camp Oasis program and Advocacy For Patients With Chronic Illness. McCready himself has battled with Crohn’s and colitis, and to quote from him, “CCFA has played a huge part in helping me get the support and information that I need. I’m grateful that my band mates and friends can support and join me for a night of music and fun that will help us find a cure for these debilitating diseases.”
So I’m going.
Benefit Details from Mike McCready
Day: Friday, April 8, 2011
Doors open: 8:00 PM
Ages: 21 & Over
Tickets: $20.00 (but for a good cause!)
Extra Cash? Try this: Rock ‘n Royal Backstage / On-Stage On-Air VIP Auction Package VIP Auction Package
Flight to Mars was founded in 2003 and features Pearl Jam lead guitarist Mike McCready plus friends and local musicians Tim DiJulio (guitar), Gary Westlake (bass), Kelly Van Camp (drums), Paul Passereli (vocals) and Ty Ballie (keyboards).
Mike McCready and Flight To Mars – A Benefit for Crohn's & Colitis Foundation of America
For those of you who don’t know, Pearl Jam’s Mike McCready, in addition to doing a bit of tracking on Kristen Ward albums, has another band, a UFO tribute band, Flight to Mars, that will be playing at the Showbox at the Market on Friday, April 8. Now, before you question the choice of bands deserving of such homage, I have it on very good authority that these guys are great, that they rock, so I’m going even though I couldn’t tell you anything about the music of UFO. Sometimes it’s best just to experience live music new and fresh and see what effect it has on the soul.
And besides, how often can you see a musician like McCready in a place as small as the Showbox? Back in 1986, I did once see Bo Diddly and B.B. King in such a venue, and I must say to see such players not 20 feet away on a smallish stage was nothing short of spectacular. At such times, it almost doesn’t matter what they play just to be able to see them play, actually see the fingers fretting chords and be close enough to discern the difference audibly and visually between a D and a D minor. So I’m going, and I’ll stand up front like a fan and cheer and shout in between the scribblings in my notebook and then in the wee hours of the night put a few words down about the show.
And it’s a benefit show for the Crohn’s and Colitis Foundation of America’s Camp Oasis program and Advocacy For Patients With Chronic Illness. McCready himself has battled with Crohn’s and colitis, and to quote from him, “CCFA has played a huge part in helping me get the support and information that I need. I’m grateful that my band mates and friends can support and join me for a night of music and fun that will help us find a cure for these debilitating diseases.”
So I’m going.
Day: Friday, April 8, 2011
Doors open: 8:00 PM
Ages: 21 & Over
Tickets: $20.00 (but for a good cause!)
Extra Cash? Try this: Rock ‘n Royal Backstage / On-Stage On-Air VIP Auction Package VIP Auction Package
Flight to Mars was founded in 2003 and features Pearl Jam lead guitarist Mike McCready plus friends and local musicians Tim DiJulio (guitar), Gary Westlake (bass), Kelly Van Camp (drums), Paul Passereli (vocals) and Ty Ballie (keyboards).
The High Dive is the place to be.
This Thursday Night the High Dive is hosting some of the best upcoming acts in Seattle right now. Bryan John Appleby, Young Lions, Fort Union, and Widower. WOW! New comers Fort Union, who consits of members of GoldFinch and former members of Friday mile will be celebrating the release of their newly release Single ” Solstice Day Parade” which you can listen to HERE Also celebrating a new release will be Young Lions, who just finished recording with Seattles own Grammy winner Kory Kruckenberg which you can listen to HERE To top off the night will be Bryan John Appleby who is one hell of a singer song writer watch this video to see what I am talking about http://vimeo.com/15634254 and Widower who’s main man Kevin Large is also in Grand Hallway and has another show that night with his Tom Petty Cover band, music will start promptly after 8pm and you do not want to miss Widower or any of the band’s on the evening’s bill.
Come out!
Thursday 3/31: The Young Lions, Bryan John Appleby, Fort Union, Widower – 8pm/ $7
Alabaster, The Repeated Phrase, Dream Girls
Saturday was the kind of night I didn’t want to feel anything. In the afternoon down at Pike Place Market, I’d run into my ex who, as these things go, is the love of my life, the most beautiful woman in the world, and seeing her hold the hand of another man was, to way understate it, difficult. But I’d agreed to go to a show that night down at the Kingcat Theater, and while taking notes as a band played was one of the last things I wanted to do, I still went. I’d given my word, and for someone who writes as much as I do, that’s about all I have.
A band called Alabaster was second on a three band bill, and their guitar player, Joe Bosslet, had put me on the list so I went and got there in the middle of the opening band’s set. They were called Can’t Complain, but really, I could. The only word that came to mind was ordinary. I made my way to the 21+ section thus and had few beers while they played, taking no notes, not feeling anything, clapping when they finished as Alabaster started to set up and check sounds. There were drum hits, guitar chords on both sides (two guitar players), bass thumps, and of course the vocals. “Check … check … check …” lead singer Shaina Rae said into her microphone. Guitarist Kate Alabaster spoke next, “Check … check … ch…son of a bitch! This thing shocked me again, man. You’re gonna have to fix that.” The sound man came down and twiddled a few cables while I got another beer and the show started.
Drums and bass came in, then guitars left and right, and then a full stop as the vocals soared. I couldn’t catch the line but it was a great way to start, a great way to deliver the first bit of melody. There was no hello, no how are you, no welcome, or thanks for coming. There was just the music and that one line. They cut straight to it. I liked that. They went through a few songs, all an upbeat kind of pop punk that live leans less toward the pop element. They didn’t introduce songs either, they just played. There was no banter, just music for them, beers for me. And they moved, they jumped, they screamed. It drew one in. Kate was shocked again. “Son of a bitch!”
Six songs into the set, there came quite a cool bass and drum groove. Such things always catch my attention since I play a little bass myself. I watched the bass player, leaned in, sipped my beer and said to myself, “That’s cool.” And then Rae came in with the vocals, “Beauty rests underneath my chin tonight…” I sipped again. “I wish…” The guitars came in noodling at first, then small chords, then big into the chorus.
“… and I’m dying to know what love feels like
to find infinity in the heart of another…
death is upon us love, I don’t have much time.”
No, we never do have much of that thing called time, for love or for anything else. Time is of course the one thing that we constantly have less of until it one day runs out. There was another verse, another chorus, a break down.
“I can’t see my breath in here.
I can’t feel my heart beating…”
Rae’s voice was earnest, a plea, the most heartfelt I’d ever heard.
“I can’t feel my chest rising.
I can’t feel anything anymore…”
The music built. The line repeated.
I can’t feel anything anymore…” Read the rest of this entry »
Kristen Ward, Gary Westlake, Charles Bukowski, Faces Falling Off
As I’m wont to do before a show, I was at a bar with a book and a beer. The bar was the Hard Rock Cafe where they charge $6.25 for a pint of Mannys. OK then, won’t be drinking there very often. The book was The Captain is Out to Lunch and the Sailors Have Taken Over the Ship, Charles Bukowski, a posthumously published journal of sorts and my go to read for the quiet pre-gig moments. The gig was Kirsten Ward and Gary Westlake opening for the Paperboys at the Showbox at the Market on St. Patrick’s Day. I’d seen the duo perform at the Seattle Gibson Showroom in January which was an intimate evening, small, cozy, like being gathered in a friend’s basement and someone just picking up the acoustic from the corner and strumming out a few beautiful tunes. When I heard about the Showbox gig, I was excited. She’s a favorite of mine recently, and I wanted to hear the music in a larger setting, an amplified setting where even the quieter tunes would fill the room with sound impossible not to hear.
So I read a few pages, finished the beer, and headed over to the show getting there just as Ward and Westlake were stepping onto the stage. They tuned as I situated myself. Then they started in with my favorite, San Sebastian, but rather than acoustic, Westlake was playing a Gibson Firebird with a bit of overdrive. There was an edge to the sound not heard on the CD or at the Gibson show. The intimacy was there, Ward’s songs lend themselves to such no matter the setting, but the sound was of course bigger, enveloping, that edge soothing, like a knife spreading butter on a toasted bagel. After the second song, Ward spoke to the audience, “This is the intimate beginning.” Indeed, it was.
Later, Ward recounted a time in Cannon Beach that involved lots of rain, lots of Patron, and Deliverance. “It was four days of hell,” she said to laughs, “but then we finally got to some song writing and came up with this. This one’s called How to Love Me,” and they started into it. It’s a beautiful soft song, and listening to it and the songs that followed, I was reminded of the Bukowski I’d been reading earlier. He’d been going on about not being able to find any decent music on the radio, about hitting the button again and again to find nothing, something we’ve all experienced, about the great music of the centuries falling on deaf ears, “Think of all the people alive who have never heard decent music. No wonder their faces are falling off, no wonder they kill thoughtlessly, no wonder the heart is missing.” He should have heard Ward and Westlake do one of these sets.
The music went on. The heads bobbed. A few danced, but most just listened and let the music do its thing. Near the end, Ward asked, “Feeling intimate?” There was a “whoo!” from somewhere in the audience. Ward continued, “Last time I asked someone that, he walked out the door.” There were laughs. “This one’s called Drive Away.” She started playing but stopped, “Whoa! Something’s not right.” She laughed. There were more laughs from the audience as she tuned. There was again a “whoo!” from somewhere in the audience. They started again, nailed it. The show was much bigger than the Gibson show, but Ward somehow still made it feel small, more like she was performing down in the Green Room under the Showbox rather than up there on the main stage.
When the set was over, they stepped quickly off the stage. The intimate beginning was done, but for me that was the whole of the night. I left and walked up first avenue singing, “All I wanna do is drive away from here.” It’s music that should be on the radio somewhere, music that will give one heart and, perhaps more importantly, keep faces from falling off.
Photos and Drive Away Video by Kathy Whitsett
Peace Mercutio, Chicago, Not the Opera
It was either the Crown Royal or the stout, or perhaps the mixture, the Porterhouse Royale, a shot of Crown in a pint of stout. It took me so long to finish the thing that I didn’t have time to go home and eat before heading to Studio 7 to catch Peace Mercutio so on the way I had McDonalds. Maybe it was the McDonalds. Whatever it was, the stomach was rumbling. I got to the club right at 7:00, right when the show was supposed to start, but the doors were locked. I peered in, nothing. I knocked on the glass,” Uh…hello, McFly?. It’s 7:00.” Nothing. Crickets. Tumbleweeds. Walking around back, I noticed bands carrying equipment in so I figured at least the show wasn’t canceled. Nothing wrong with running a little behind schedule. I belched a mixture of Crown and stout and wondered if I should switch to beer or stick with the whisky and thinking I definitely should have skipped the McDonalds.
Peace Mercutio is a band from Milwaukee that relocated Seattle to escape the non-happenings there. My old Dertoit band played in Milwaukee a couple times so I couldn’t blame them from what I know of the city. It’s a risk to come cross country, but all good things are, and they seem to be up to it so far. The drummer from Out Like Pluto recommended them to me and after listening to the song “Chicago“, I decided they deserved a listen live for, to modify Hamlet slightly, the gig is the thing . Thirty minutes or so later, the club was finally open, the bar was selling drinks, my stomach settled, and Peace Mercutio was about to go on. Things were looking up. The bar is on the second level above the main area which I always found odd for just watching a band, but I found it great for writing. I got a Crown and Coke and a seat by the balcony, leaned back to sip as I looked down on the stage and the audience gathering and for a brief moment felt like I might have been at the opera, that is until the music started.
The drums came in on hi-hat and worked their way to the snare building up a beat. The guitar player in the middle bounded left and right and looked as though he might fall over at any minute but somehow he did not. He started clapping to the beat and the crowd that had filled some in my opera moment started clapping as they fed off his energy. Then bass and guitars pounded out the first three chords of “Chicago”, and Dan Buckley, the non-bounding guitar player, sang, “Chicago feels like an unstable dream that finally came crashing down.” I always laugh to hear that line. It reminds me of my family name and what that and a cow had to do with bringing down parts of Chicago one fiery night a long time ago. The song though is rather about things not working out, sending love and having it come back unopened. The chorus is what hooked me in (did its job thus) when I first heard it, and live it was better, bigger, very Foo Fighters like in the way it steps up, “Will we meet before the end or is this just a wound to mend?” Not quite Shakespeare like the name implies, but that’s always a valid question nonetheless, and the way they sing it, it makes even an guy like me who never dances or shouts want to sing along, “We were almost more. What were you looking for?” The songs hits it’s mark. It upbeat rock with a big chorus that people want shout with.
When that song ended, Read the rest of this entry »
Let England Shake
We missed recognizing International Women’s Day around here (that new Shabazz Palaces track must’ve had my head all up in the clouds), but hopefully you ladies know we love ya. And what better way to pay belated tribute than by watching some new PJ Harvey videos, one of the most ferocious and gifted female artists of our generation?
With the GOP’s astonishing and repressively repulsive recent attack on women’s health and right to choose, Harvey’s folky, geopolitically war torn new album Let England Shake holds ultimate relevance in today’s divisive climate. Not only that, but it’s also some of the coolest shit she’s ever produced. Highly recommended.
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Merry Fucking Christmas
What would you say if I told you Christmas was a band that sounded like Karen O fronting the Intelligence? Or perhaps Grace Slick wailing with the Gits? Would you say “fuck off”? Would you say “Holy Hell!”? Would you say “don’t make me punch you”? Would you say “where’s my presents?” Whatever sort of cataclysmic reaction you would resort to probably wouldn’t have near the effect on me as the calamitous new self-titled album from these Olympia surf-thrashers. Yes, that’s right, surf-thrash is on the rise.
The Northwest underground is seething right now, and Christmas have flashed their fangs quite admirably with their recent entry into the fray. Local DIY imprint High Fives and Handshakes has the honor, and you can sample it below or over at their bandcamp. The record moves fast with a stupefying swagger, thanks to the heedless intent of all parties involved. Rhythm responsibilities fall upon Dave Halegua (bass) and Jake Jones (drums), each trying to out-quicken each other, often spilling off the rails but nonetheless staying on top of their duty to the song.
Patrick Scott-Walsh shows great versatility and range with his guitar, moving easily (but not necessarily seamlessly) between tactful surf spirits, broken guitar squalls, and funky electric rigor. The real treasure of this band, however, is vocalist Emily Beanblossom. I haven’t seen this band in person so I can’t speak to stage antics/presence, but the woman is cooking some serious voodoo with her recorded caterwaul. As I mentioned, Slick (Jefferson Airplane) and O (Fever To Tell-era) are apt analogies, with Beanblossom using the drawn out powerful warbles of the former and the banshee-esque out-of-body yips and yelps of the latter to great effect. I hear the growl and rabid intensity of the late Mia Zapata spewing forth from her lungs in directing an all-invited punk rock séance. “Namiot” sees her also taking off the mask, displaying a playful coyness that I wasn’t expecting. The sorceress has many countenances.
These four youngsters from our state’s capitol aren’t reinventing the wheel, but they are smashing the ba(by)-jesus out of it. And I suspect if your interest has thus been piqued, you’ll appreciate the rawness in their music (as opposed to the recordings), something they’ve done well to capture while still maintaining some semblance of “cohesion”. Not an easy task. Christmas are ragged, and they are coarse, and probably the best way to listen to them is up front, sweaty and drunk, with a tallboy in your hand. But for now, this ferocious output will have to do.
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You can freely download “Dog Problems” here. Also, you can download six songs of a live Seattle show here. Read/watch more about the band here.
Drew Grow and The Pastors Wives are back!
So in keeping the tradition of passionate music that I’ve witnessed at The Columbia City Theater lately, last Friday I finally got to catch Drew Grow and The Pastors Wives. Due to Drew’s very recent recovery from being injured, It was a special night for the band and for everyone who came. He took to the stage on crutches, looking reasonably uncomfortable. Then found his guitar, sat in front of the mic and after a moment poured his heart into it.
Actually, I was amazed at the idea of Drew returning to the stage so soon. It seemed as if I had just learned of his car accident that happened in January. But as much as music is theraputic for the listener, it’s healing powers are twofold for the person making it. And having a band this spiritually potent, one can only imagine that he was determined to do this as soon as possible.
Grow and the Wives came on fierce, and immediately ignited the room with their thunderous rocker Bootstraps (found on their self tilted album). Along with Drew, this incredible band (Jeremiah Hayden drums/vocals, Seth Schaper guitar/vocals, and Kris Doty/bass vocals) manages to keep all live elements raw and emotionally engaging. The music really has so many beautiful and compelling dynamics. They can have you hanging on slide guitar feedback and upright bass strokes one minute, and the next the entire band can become this gigantic wall of vocals. It’s really this gospel-like choir teetering from the heavens that shifts the primary melodic structure. Drew is a vital and passionate presence with a vocal range that brings Jeff Buckley, and maybe a tinge of Mark Lanegan to mind. His triumphant delivery last Friday at The Columbia City Theater proves great resilience, and commitment to his art.
Photos by Hilary Harris
St. Patrick’s Day with Kristen Ward at the Showbox at the Market
Kristen Ward will help celebrate St. Patrick’s Day at the Showbox at the Market this year by performing an acoustic set, presumably with long time music partner Gary Westlake. I had the chance about a month ago to catch just such a show by Kristen and Gary at the Gibson Show Room, and it’s something not to miss. Her voice soars in a very subdued way and Westlake’s guitar playing is a perfect compliment to it. Ward’s newest CD, Charles, is a collection of intimate acoustic songs performed by this duo, and while the Showbox won’t have quite the personal atmosphere the Gibson room had, I’m sure it will be well worth it just the same.
Ward will be opening for Tom Landa and the Paperboys. LeRoy Bell and His Only Friends are also on the bill.
Kristen Ward: Website | Facebook
Showbox at the Market
Thursday March 17th
Tickets $15.00-$18.00, doors open at 8:00, 21+ only
