Posts by A.j. Crandall

I first met Davy Knowles on a rainy night in Portland, Oregon. He and his band, Back Door Slam were about to play to a pretty full room and he was very excited. In the previous couple of days the high school pals from the Isle of Man had been going through the right of passage for an up and coming band, touring the States in a van. They had their first snowball fight, were gifted a magnificent vintage amplifier and were relegated to sitting in the basement green room of the club they played due to the fact that they were all below the legal drinking age of 21. They had recently released their first full length LP, Roll Away and were well received and then some throughout the entire tour.

[Photo by Mike Itchue]

Onstage, BDS tore the roof off the joint, delivering ninety minutes of swaggering, swearing, deep seated blues that belied their youthfulness. Davy Knowles sang and played guitar with a passion and voice that transcended his young age, evoking Stevie, Jimi, Muddy and a slew of blues legends.

Now flash forward to present day. The band is now Davy Knowles & Back Door Slam, the original rhythm section (Ross and Adam) having split to pursue different paths. Knowles’ second album is produced and partially co-written with Peter Frampton. The list of bands that DK&BDS have toured with as opening act are all “A-listers”: Gov’t Mule, Chickenfoot, Jeff Beck to name a few. Davy was asked to jam nightly and learned the art of improvisation by following the likes of Joe Satriani and Warren Haynes.

Knowles was recently asked to join the latest incarnation of the Rhythm Devils for this summer’s tour season. So, add learning the Dead catalogue, the Rhythm Devils material to the education of Davy Knowles. He has been busily learning the new material, flashing off MP3-filled emails to Mickey Hart as frequently as they are critiqued and returned, working the initial rehearsals out via the internet.

I caught up with Davy via the phone as he was packing up to play at Daytona International Speedway as part of the Nascar Sprint Cup Series prior to the Saturday night race…

AJ Crandall: Let’s chat. In the last couple of years since we spoke, you had an album produced and partially co-written with Peter Frampton, you were personally picked to open for Gov’t Mule and got to jam with Warren Haynes every night, you toured with Chickenfoot, you toured with Jeff Beck, all in the last year or so. Now you are going to be playing every night with a chunk of the Grateful Dead, Obviously the music industry has taken notice of Davy Knowles. Are you surprised by all the attention over these last couple of years?

Davy Knowles: Oh my gosh. Funny, but when it’s happening, it doesn’t really strike you like that. Like when the Jeff Beck thing came up or the Chickenfoot thing came up, I felt I should just keep my head down and learn as much as I can and play as much as I can. You know, do my job. But when people say it back to you like that, it kind of makes you stop and think, ‘I’m Just incredibly lucky.’

READ ON for more of AJ’s chat with Davy Knowles…

KINK.FM Earth Day Concert, April 22 @ Aladdin in Portland, OR

There’s this radio station in Portland, Oregon that has as their catch phrase “True to the music”, and that station is KINK.FM. Our wonderful little secret, music-wise, until the internet made radio accessible to the world. The folks at KINK have always kept true to form, letting the quality of music determine playlists. Well that, and surveys of their listeners. I’ve never listened to this station and heard anything I couldn’t appreciate. They, like their listening faithful, genuinely love music.

KINK.FM has always been active in the community and puts on a yearly Earth Day Benefit show at the Aladdin Theater in Portland. They always include stellar entertainers (In the past John Hiatt, Dr. John and The Neville Brothers have headlined) and almost always sell out. This year was no exception, with One Eskimo opening for Jackie Greene.

The line to enter the venue stretched around the block, with 15 minutes until the doors opened. The crowd was about evenly split for which performer they were more anxious to see. Portland has always had a warm spot in its heart for Greene and he makes the journey up from his bay area home pretty regularly. But One Eskimo had been through town only once before, opening for Tori Amos and there were plenty of folks from that show in line tonight. I have to admit, I was curious to see how their clever self-titled CD would translate onstage.

READ ON for more from AJ on KINK’s Earth Day show…

Pretty Lights @ Roseland Theatre – April 13, 2010

Back in Sacred Heart grammar school, Mr. Shields was the roving music teacher. With an upright Baldwin piano on wheels, Mr. Shields would twice weekly enter the classroom to instruct us on the finer points of his interpretation of music. “What is music?” he would ask at the beginning of each class. “Music is sound”, we’d answer in unison. “That has what three qualities? he would ask. “Rhythm, melody and harmony” we would echo back. Twice a week. This was the prerequisite quizzing we got before being allowed to explore the delicate intricacies of “Kumbaya” and the choral arrangement of Sounds Of Silence.

I probably have Mr. Shields at least partially to thank for my open mind regarding music. Between the classical and folk introduced to me on that old Baldwin and what there was around my home, I pretty much was open for anything. I’ve been to dozens of symphony concerts, choral masses, open mike nights and one person shows over the years and, with very few exceptions, really appreciated the music. Hip hop, rap, techno, emo, death metal, and quartets of both the string and barber shop varieties, I’ve seen a little of everything.

But as I have aged, I’ve become a tad more selective in spending my entertainment dollars, gravitating more toward the solid rock and singer songwriter acts that fall in my comfort zone. I had my ‘Rave Phase’ back in the mid nineties. We’d hook up with a bunch of friends and head off to a warehouse in the industrial section. We’d take E and dance for hours and drink like fish, stay out till three and have a great time. The DJ’s played house and techno and kept the party going in shifts, never letting the beat drop. Mainstream acceptance of the rave culture was still years away and computer geeks of their day were still figuring out that they could make wonderful music with the assistance of a powerful laptop and a file full of samples.

Fast forward about 17 years. I’m at the Roseland Theater in Portland for Pretty Lights. The guy in front of me in line is expounding to his two friends about how this should be fun, cause DJs aren’t really musicians. They only use other’s music, he was saying, almost like parasites. They can’t write their won stuff, they just distort other’s hard work. This guy won’t shut up. In his dubious opinion, he was about to witness the musical equivalent of summer reruns on shuffle. If I may quote no less a scholar than Bugs Bunny, ‘What an ignoraminous!”

READ ON for more from A.J. on Pretty Lights in PDX…

I was barely three months old when the Million Dollar Quartet got together for a Tuesday afternoon jam at Sun studios. Carl Perkins, Elvis Presley, Johnny Cash and Jerry Lee Lewis formed modern music’s first supergroup and Sam Phillips was quick to cash in. Phillips made his living with music and knew something special when he saw it. That would explain his calling the paper and letting them send over a reporter and photographer to capture the moment for posterity.

Someone send a reporter and photographer over to see Stockholm Syndrome, pronto.

Oh, wait. That’s me. Well, let me tell you, whether or not you agree with the supergroup moniker, you should definitely seek out a Stockholm Syndrome show and capture the moment for yourself. Not that that would make my job any easier, it’s just that I see a real benefit to seeing this band live. I didn’t always feel that way. There was a time that I seriously considered NOT going to the Crystal Ballroom for this show. But, now that I’ve experienced S.S. live, I feel a lot better. Maybe I should explain.

I woke up on Monday with a serious toothache where a tooth no longer resided. According to the x-rays, there was a piece of my old wisdom tooth that was left behind 25 years or so ago that decided Monday morning was the time to break free of my jawbone and make my life miserable. Oral surgery was scheduled for the next morning in Scappoose, Oregon, some 40 miles north. I’d have driven to Mexico to relieve this pain, it was that bad. It took the surgeon a total of 11 shots to make/keep me numb along with laughing gas for the duration. I was stitched up, packed with cotton, told to keep taking pills for the pain and generally take it easy. I was home by noon and out like a light an hour after that.

I woke up hungry at about dinner time, but couldn’t eat (or see straight for that matter.) So I took more pills and parked in front of the stereo with a good book. I finished the paperback by eight thirty and considered turning in. My lower jaw was still numb to the touch. I was in sweats and my favorite old Stones tee shirt. I had already forgotten the ending of the book I just finished. There might have even been a bit of dribble on the front of said Stones shirt. I was in no shape to go anywhere.

READ ON to see how things turned out for A.J….

I’ve lived in Portland for about 30 years now. In that time I have come to believe that the average Portland resident is just a bit different than most other people in the world. There’s a certain something that diverts their brain waves slightly off the course most would consider normal. This is, for the most part, a good thing. At other times, the differences backfire, with curious, befuddled results.

I’m referring to last week’s Northwest run of concerts by the Cascadia Yulegrass Project, in particular, their Portland stop on December 20th. Let me explain. The ticket clearly said “Doors open at 6pm, Show begins at 7pm”. I was in line, out in the rain on NE Russell St. at 6:15.

In line with me were 25 or 30 people, almost all of them expressing derision at standing in the rain while waiting for the venue to open the doors. The foursome in front of me had come from dinner out and was lucky to find an umbrella in the trunk of their car. The girl behind me chatted on the phone to her friend on the way, “Find a parking spot, but don’t rush. I’m still standing in the rain”. There were several families with young children in line also. The kids were antsy and complaining about the rain, splashing the occasional puddle dry in their frustration.

No explanation was given for the lateness as the doors opened a little past seven. The venue was set up in a bit of a different configuration. There were several couches set up directly in front of the stage, separated from the rest of the crowd by a row of low, black curtains. Then there were about a dozen rows of folding chairs behind them. The couches were for VIP ticket holders. They also had their own cash bar, to the right of the stage. From my vantage point at the front row of seats, I could spot dozens of concert goers being turned away at the low curtain, redirected to the general admission bar, upstairs in the balcony.

READ ON for more of A.J.’s thoughts on Cascade Yulegrass…

You got to hand it to KISS. They have been living the rock and roll life to an almost cartoonish degree for 35 years. They are in the middle of a tour that encompasses most of North America as well as most of the fourth quarter of 2009. They recently released their umpty-dozenth cd, Sonic Boom.

The marketing typhoon that sells KISS, the product, has been out in force, selling everything from the $1,200 Live 35 box set, featuring every minute of every concert on the current tour, to $1,000 meet and greet premium packages to KISS g-strings, panties and key chains. Is everything in between included, you ask? Damn Skippy, partner.

I have to admit that when tickets first went on sale, I had dismissed the idea of seeing KISS 2.0; Gene Simmons on bass and Paul Stanley on guitar are the only original members with sporadic members Eric Singer on drums and Tommy Thayer on lead guitar. I last saw KISS when I was in college and, as was the custom of the time, had become quite inebriated by the time the curtain went up. READ ON for more from AJ on catching KISS…

Last Friday was a long time coming. The week seemed to drag on to the point where I spent a great deal of Thursday staring at the clock, doing my best to force time to speed up by the sheer force of my will and failing miserably. There had been deadlines and long work days since Monday morning and it drained me to the core. I needed Friday badly. You see, on Friday, the Mother Hips were coming to town. By Wednesday I was jonesing pretty bad. Friday was a long time coming for certain.

I got to the venue early and grabbed a table by the wall to wait for the right moment to give up my seat. The Doug Fir Lounge in Portland is a very intimate theater with a low rise stage that faces a roughly 30’ by 40’ dance floor. Behind the dance floor is a set of stairs leading to the bar area and merch table on one side, with the sound booth in the middle and a ramp to the bar on the other side. There are a few tables on either wall to the side, but sitting down affords one only a good look at the back of most of the audience. The best place to be at the Doug Fir is on the stairs, leaning back against the front of the sound booth. One or two steps up, with something to lean on behind me to rest my aching back and an unobstructed view of the stage, I try to grab this spot whenever I’m here.

I needed to sit till the last moment to rest up for the show. Triple bill, with Matthew Lindley & Troubadour Deluxe first and Jason Isbell & The 400 Unit in the middle slot. I grabbed the spot on the stair just ahead of a couple who were content to be against the booth, but one step down.

READ ON for the rest of AJ’s review of the Mother Hips…

Being the live music junkie that I am, I have been subjected to some surprises over the years. Some were more than welcomed surprises, like this one time back in ’77 or ’78. I had to meet some guy named Boris (don’t ask) at a bar in Manhattan called Traxx. There was a trio playing on a small stage, killer rockabilly. Skinny, no shirts, a guitar bigger than the player. Upright bass and standup drummer playing a pretty austere kit. The Stray Cats were playing that night. Lucky Break.

Another time I won tickets to see The Tubes from a local radio station. The show was in a small club in downtown Portland. About halfway through the first song I noticed that it was not Fee Waybill behind the oversized shades, but a Waybill-wanna-be. Bad surprise. Glad I didn’t spend money for those seats.

There was another time the surprise just made me a tad less than comfortable. Sitting in the third row for the Mark Farner Band I was all set for a night of Grand Funk Classics, of which there were plenty. But, after opening with a few early ’70s gems, Farner said he wanted to show us where he had been for the last few years. What followed was about an hour of Christian church songs with a boogie beat, I mean Onward Christian Soldier kind of stuff. Well played, good music and all, plus I got my Grand Funk fix before the night was through, but just not how I expected it. I suppose the Mark Farner Ministries t-shirts I saw in the front row should have been a dead giveaway.

Those surprises came years ago, before the internet really, which dates them back far enough. Nowadays with the sweep of a mouse you can find out everything you want about a touring act in a matter of minutes. When I heard that Loggins & Messina were coming to town I did a little research before shelling out the ducats. I found a lot of raves about their 2005 Sittin’ In Again tour, but very little about their current outing. Just like with movies sometimes, no previews may be a bad sign.

READ ON for more from AJ on Loggins and Messina…

It’s been a while since we’ve heard from HT’s Portland, OR-based contributor A.J. Crandall for his unique, first-person accounts of seeing shows from an eclectic mix of artists in his hometown. A.J. caught a recent Bob Dylan show and has filed this report for his Through The Fog series of reviews…

As some of you may know, my wife does not exactly share my enthusiasm for live music. Where I am more than happy to slog through four and five day festivals as happily as I get in early and get up front for a rock show at any of a dozen wonderful and unique venues nearby, the wife; not so much. When we first met, I made no secret that live music was a passion of mine. Among our first dates were several shows. America and The Doobie Brothers were at a park in Beaverton. We saw several shows at the Roseland, including Joe Cocker, Little Feat and a KINK.FM Christmas show featuring Melissa Etheridge, Sarah McLaughlin and Barenaked Ladies. She ranks seeing Ian Anderson in the intimate Newmark Theater as one of the best concerts she’s ever attended.

But, God love her, she just doesn’t like it much any more. Maybe I overloaded her. I looked back at my ticket stub collection. I took her to 11 different shows in the first 14 months, including Farm Aid outside Seattle. Maybe that was a little much. A couple of years ago, she flatly stated that she was attending what could be her last rock show (Ringo Starr & His All Starr Band). Her decision was a timely one, as the recession was about to hit and I had to cut my concert budget in half. One ticket instead of two? Problem solved.

I did insist that she have right of first refusal for any show I planned on attending. Weekdays were generally a given negative. She works hard and there are times that she is fast asleep by the time I leave for a show. Same thing for new or trendy bands. She knows what she likes and it’s classic rock with a slight west coast slant. If she’s going to budget out a block of time for a concert, it should be someone she already likes. Fair enough.

READ ON for A.J.’s thoughts on seeing Bob Dylan with his wife…

Since landing in the national spotlight in 2005 with the surprise pop/rock crossover reggae hit King Without A Crown, Matisyahu has been lauded as both a one hit wonder and the savior of reggae music in the same breath. He lost the Grammy Award for Best Reggae Recording to a member of the Marley clan in 2006, instead walking away with Billboard Magazine’s similarly named award. Esquire Magazine touted him as “The most intriguing reggae artist in the world” when they bestowed upon him a 2006 Esky Award for Most Lovable Oddball. Can a brother get a little respect?

Turns out, the simple answer is a resounding yes! With the release of his third studio album, Light, this past week, Matisyahu (born Matthew Paul Miller some thirty years ago) turns yet another corner in his artistic evolution. From the dancehall electronica of Smash Lies to the guitar driven rock of Darkness Into Light, popular music’s only Orthodox Jew is shedding the stereotypes brought on by what he is most passionate about; his faith and his music.

Let’s start with his faith. Matisyahu (Hebrew) is an Hasidic Jew, practicing the ancient, more orthodox lifestyle including observing the Sabbath and not conducting any business after sundown on Fridays. When at home in Brooklyn, N.Y. he walks three times a day to temple to pray. He and his wife are raising their two children to follow the rites and rituals of Hasidim, pardon the obvious, religiously.

READ ON for A.J.’s chat with Matisyahu…

So, it’s been about a month since I returned from the yearly wild weekend that is Bonnaroo. Including travel and getting re-acclimated with the real world, that’s five fun filled days, which, as much as I try not to admit it, takes a toll on these old bones. Couple that with preparing for, and pulling off a Fourth Of July barbecue and fireworks extravaganza two weeks later all the while being heavily ‘medicated’ to the point of getting epidural injections in my spine and, well, you could say that I’ve been worn down pretty thin.

So I guess I was a little surprised to find my notes and photo card from when I saw moe. at the Crystal Ballroom way back on June 3rd. What a show it was, too. Another front row excursion on the famous floating dance floor of the Crystal. Surrounded by the self professed ‘moe.rons’, I was treated to a first class moe. show, with a great first set and an epic second set ending with the wonderfully underrated Waiting For The Punchline.

Seeing my notes about the show, however, got me to thinking: I had the rare opportunity of seeing this ingenious quintet three times within a couple of weeks. Not only that, but in three extremely different venues and from three very different perspectives. As I said, I was in the front row in the cozy confines of the Crystal Ballroom (Capacity; 1,000). At the Sonic stage at Bonnaroo they played about an hour’s worth of acoustic material, with my vantage point being the rear bumper of a green golf cart while the volunteers took their break in the front seats, enjoying the show. And then, two days later, at one in the morning, at This Tent at Bonnaroo, where I caught the tail end of an unworldly four and a half hour set (with a special guest intermissionist) that ended when the sun rose. Saturday morning.

READ ON for the rest of AJ’s take on catching moe. in June…

It’s early Sunday afternoon and already steamy and sticky in Manchester, Tennessee. We head purposefully to Which Stage to get close to see Mike Farris and the Roseland Rhythm Revue. We got a late start, which sucked, because there was no way to get as close as we wanted. I was a bit shocked. After all, it was Sunday, half past noon. Most of Bonnaroo hadn’t stopped the Saturday party but four or five hours ago (thank you MGMT and moe.) In between me and the front row were several thousand fellow Bonnaroonians, excited to celebrate Sunday morning services with Mike Farris.

Farris and his band ran through a high energy, emotional run of songs that had the audience shouting hallelujahs and amens while shading their eyes from the still rising Tennessee sun. Mike Farris, beneath a smart hat and shades, sang and played with the passion of a believer. Sure, it was religious, which, as a twelve year veteran of the internal struggle between good and evil that is Catholic School I have come to regard with great suspicion. But this music moved me. This music took hold, got inside my head. No, I didn’t drop to the ground, speak in tongues or develop stigmata. I didn’t find God, get reborn or suddenly find religion. I was simply moved by the soul and passion in the performance. Dynamically, the band pushed the limits from blues to rock, soul and gospel and back again. And all the while, there’s Farris, all sweat and swagger, belting out both old and new with fire and power, holding the early Sunday crowd in the palm of his hand.

Seeing the energy and movement expended onstage, it was hard to believe that, just forty minutes ago, I had been engaged in a quiet conversation at a picnic table near Radio Bonnaroo with this same person. He, his wife and dog, and I traded stories about our respective Bonnaroo experiences so far. Reserved, holding the bearing of simple Southern grace, Mike was articulate, open and charming as we chatted. There was no hint of the bundle of energy and passion that I saw on stage.

AJ Crandall: So you are from here in Tennessee?

Mike Farris: I’m actually really close. My home town is about ten or fifteen minutes from here. My mom lives less than a mile, as the crow flies, from where we are sitting. I might be the only true local that’s ever played here.

AJ : So, who have you seen so far this weekend that you’ve been impressed by?

Mike Farris: David Byrne. Oh, and the Steel Drivers, I saw them yesterday and they were just amazing. They’ve got one of the best singers, in the world, in that guy, Chris Stapleton. We’ve got our little boy with us, so we took him to see, you know, a lot of the classics. Like Mr. David Byrne, Mr. Elvis Costello. We took him over to see Bruce (Springsteen) last night. I thought Bruce did a really great job, connecting with the people.

READ ON for more of AJ’s chat with Mike Farris…

Glide's AJ Crandall takes us aboard on a detailed four day adventure at Bonnaroo 2009.

It’s been a little over a year since Cody Dickinson and Chris Chew of the North Mississippi All Stars decided to stretch their musical wings out by forming a new band with a new direction. The result is a high energy, rock and roll blues act called Hill Country Revue. While Chew remains his rock bottom steady self on bass guitar, Dickinson climbs out from behind the drum kit to play lead guitar (along with electric washboard, piano, some drums and vocals as well). They are joined by Daniel Robert Coburn on vocals and harmonica, Kirk Smithhart on guitar, slide guitar and vocals, Edward “Hot” Cleveland on drums and Garry Burnside on electric guitar, bass and vocals.

It’s been a few short weeks since Hill Country Revue’s debut album, Make A Move, hit the streets and the buzz has been stellar – with the album charting on the Billboard Blues chart. While the general feel of the album is gritty rock and roll that is very heavily steeped in the blues, there is a difference that defies such generalizations. You can give it any name you like, gospel, soul, swamp boogie, whatever, it won’t change the fact that Make A Move will make you “shake your ass” as Coburn sings in the self titled second cut on the new disc.

Cody Dickinson checked in from the road recently to catch us up on what’s been going on with the band and their summer tour plans.

A.J. Crandall: I noticed you are playing a lot of festivals this summer. Are you looking forward to any of them in particular?

Cody Dickinson: Oh, yeah. The line up for All Good looks so cool. We’re really excited about that one.

AJ: I’ve really been looking forward to this weekend to Bonnaroo, that’s my big trip of the year.

CD: I’m going to be there, playing guitar with Jerry Hannan . Unfortunately Hill country is not on the bill, maybe next year. But I am playing on Saturday afternoon; you should definitely check it out.

READ ON for more of AJ’s interview with Cody Dickinson…

Both A.J. Crandall and Jennifer Kirk will be reporting live from Manchester on Bonnaroo 2009 for Hidden Track and Glide Magazine. We’ve asked each of them to write a preview of what the weekend will hold for them. Today we’ll share A.J.’s look at Bonnaroos past (2007, 2008) and future…

I’ve got some packing to do. I just looked it up. Southwest airlines lets you take two bags free. Last month’s trip to NY, on two airlines that’ll go nameless for now, I got hit at the counter for $15 for my one bag. Another $30 for an aisle seat. I was planning on scaling way back on camping goods I took from home, but now that I have all that extra room with a second bag, I’ll take rain gear etc.

Should be a great weekend. It’s a soundtrack for me and my brother to catch up on a year in the lives. It’s a weekend in early summer containing more live music than most people will see all year, or two. It’s the vibe. It’s the Coffey County sherrifs who roll their eyes and wave you through to the next checkpoint. It’s the country fried steak at the Waffle House, with grits, of course, on Monday morning. It’s why I still do this shit at age 53.

Well, it’s been a year already. And a year before that. And a year before that. And a year before that. This year marks the fifth June in a row that I have ventured east from the relatively safe confines of the Great Pacific Northwest to become a citizen of Tennessee’s third largest city (for a weekend), Bonnaroo.

READ ON for more of AJ’s Bonnaroo 2009 preview piece…

At first I didn’t think I was at the right place. I mean, I had pulled up in front of the brick faced loading docks across the street from a local microbrewery. The store front in front of me had an a-frame sign, hand painted on the sidewalk. My fender was within inches of it. It read “Texas Hold-em. Totally licensed and legal”. There were metal, portable stairs on wheels locked in place against the bricks, allowing access to each of the loading docks. There was a chain link fence separating the docks, effectively locking in the seven port-a-johns that were placed off to one side, the fence surrounding them, I’m sure, for security reasons. Also inside the chain link were about five or six old couches. That must be the designated smoking/peeing section.

Up the metal stairs and inside the first door I found a mineral and gem show, free samples of vegan, coconut ice cream and the assorted families normally associated with mineral shows and free samples of vegan, coconut ice cream. There were nylon patterns stretched wall to wall, floor to ceiling in red and black that hid the industrial warehouse trappings against the red brick walls. There was free water refillable from the five gallon jug of ice water the staff drove themselves crazy replenishing (a hearty Thank You to the girl with the line up the back of her stockings). There was the loud, throb of dance music beats coming from the other side of one of the nylon covered brick walls, loud enough so that the tie dyed and barefoot children of the gem and mineral-ists wore ear plugs, the infants, headphones.

What there wasn’t was anyone at the door asking for tickets or money. Tonight’s show was put on gratis by the benevolent folks over at Lightworker Nonprofit Productions. LWNP is the brain child of Portlander Jake Weaver. Their mission is simple: “Lightworker Nonprofit Productions exists to provide communities across the country, exposure to multiple levels of artistic expression at no financial cost. Our goal is to keep ticket prices FREE to ensure that people of all income levels can attend our events”. Weaver adds, “By producing concerts and related events, with many different types of art being displayed at once, people can experience this expression, become more enriched, and bring that energy back into their community.” READ ON for more from A.J. about EOTO & Ozric’s show…

Okay, so there’s this band, Soulive, from upstate New York. (Why is New York the only state with an official “Upstate” section? This state is huge, diverse, beautiful and historic, but most of that is “upstate”, isn’t it?)

Anyway, Soulive, a band I had heard of but never actually heard. They appeared at Bonnaroo in 04 and 06, but you know how festival schedules are. Just like good television, they seem to program all the good stuff at the same time. I missed the Roo in 2004. In 2006 they appeared in This Tent after Mike Doughty’s Band. Problem was, I caught the first few songs of Be Your Own Pet in That Tent which led to an acoustic set by Rusted Root on the Sonic Stage and, boom, next thing you know Soulive is in the helicopter being ferried to the fancy Nashville hotel and I’ve missed the opportunity. Not that I’m complaining, you understand. I’m just saying.

So I go over to the Doug Fir lounge to finally check these guys out, and boy am I glad I did. Especially in the warm, cozy environs of the Doug. A basement space with real Douglas fir logs and a real retro feel was the perfect place for the set that Soulive put on Sunday night.

The opening act was billed as The Nigel Hall Band and announced from the stage (by Soulive drummer Alan Evans) the same way. Hall came out solo at first, sat behind the keyboard and half whispered to the crowd, “Lend me your souls for a while, I promise I’ll get them right back to you”.

READ ON for more of A.J.’s review of Soulive in Portland…

“These guys are a fun band”, Dee said as the openers – The Truth & Salvage Co. – took the stage. “You’ll probably like them”. Dee and Ron had come to town from their rural environs north of Nanaimo, British Columbia. They were following the Jackie Greene Pacific Northwest swing of his current tour.

Getting their fix, as Ron put it, of live music for the year. Sort of like Hoss and Little Joe hooking up the buckboard and heading into town for supplies. Dee and Ron drove seven hours (not counting ‘ferry time’) to get to the previous night’s show in Seattle. Another three hours and change south on I-5 (not counting an hour or so lost in the one way maze that downtown Portland can become at rush hour) to get to Thursday night’s gig at the Aladdin Theater.

Stan and Sheila, our neighbors to the right, agreed. “Really fun,” they chimed almost in unison. “Really, really fun,” Sheila added. They had journeyed from Eugene the night before to catch the Seattle show and, without getting lost, made it back south to Stumptown in time to get to the front row tonight, roughly ten hours in the car so far.

These guys were making me feel guilty for living ten minutes away and waiting for the tour to come to me. No, I take that back. Only I can make myself feel guilty. They were making me feel nostalgic for the old day’s road tripping to Seattle to see the Stones, Bowie, The Who and later on, Green River, Nirvana, Alice In Chains et al as grunge grew up three hours north.

READ ON for more about AJ’s experience at the Jackie Greene show…

In the spring of 1992, I entered a radio contest on KGON here in Portland. The deal was, Spinal Tap was coming to town. Now, Spinal tap tours are scarcer than The Who Farewell tours, but this contest had a twist.

Anyone who has seen the 1984 mockumentary, This Is Spinal Tap would be familiar with the concept of the disappearing drummer. From tragic gardening accidents to excessive explosives, the throne behind the skins seemed cursed. So the concept put forth by the morning drive time team of Dave & Tom was to have an emergency percussion unit standing by in case the Tap’s touring drummer at the time (a back from the dead Mick Shrimpton in this case) didn’t survive the evening’s pyrotechnics.

Contestants who got through on the phone lines were pitted against each other in a drum-off each morning, the winner getting a pair of drum sticks as well as tickets to the show. The grand prize winner, chosen by another final drum-off the Friday before the show, would be feted to dinner, a limousine ride to the show, backstage, the whole enchilada. I had a trick up my sleeve for the final. Two thin screwdrivers for drum sticks and two ceramic coffee mugs for cymbals. A little razzle-dazzle into the phone on the desk and I held the title of Emergency Percussion Unit for Spinal Tap.

READ ON to find out how A.J. did and his thoughts on a recent show…

What trip to a jazz festival would be complete without seeing a band that actually has the word jazz in their name? Not being familiar with most of the players on the Sunday schedule, I probably allowed that fact alone to make my decision. The Jacob Fred Jazz Odyssey sounded a bit edgier than Matt Kirk Jazz with special guest, Margie Boule.

I have read Ms. Boule’s occasional column in the local paper and have seen her on television. She seemed nice. But, and this is totally without ever hearing her sing a note, mind you, just a quick impression etched in my head that I have to let out, I believe that the most improvisation one would witness at that performance would be Ms. Boule scatting a bit at the end of Embraceable You. And, no, I’m not dissing on Margie Boule as a person and she’s probably a perfectly capable singer and those in attendance that evening, I am sure, had the time of their lives. Nor do I know a single thing about Matt Kirk. Not one bit. Nada. But I ain’t no hater.

I’m just saying that I was looking for more of what jazz is supposed to be. The smoky bar, one drink too many or too few kind of riffing and experimenting with the sounds, with a steady beat and rhythm to spare. Hardly any words in the songs I was looking for. More like improvisations on a theme, with the soloists rotating at some random order that was dictated by the music itself. Real jazz, pure and simple.

I got what I was looking for at the Goodfoot Lounge on the last night of the Portland Jazz Festival in the form of Seattle’s Das Vibenbass and The Jacob Fred Jazz Odyssey.

READ ON for more of AJ’s review of JFJO in Portland…