Say this for the Heartless Bastards: they know what their strongest asset is, and on Arrow, their latest, they leverage the absolute crap out of it. Erika Wennerstrom is a powerhouse front-woman under any definition, and here, she's full-fledged and aggressive, just sweet enough to keep from sounding acidic, but someone who can power her way through a weak song on the strength of her vocals and make a strong song positively explode.
It's hard to describe Taylor, nominally a bluesman but, like James Blood Ulmer or another inscrutable picker, he;s more a mutant of the genre. He' won't get lost in something primal — a repeated phrase, worked to the point of exhaustion like Richie Havens singing "Freedom" — or keep things even-paced and laid-back, yet he finds himself pocketed with menace and portent.
Chad talks with Jenny Scheinman about her Mischief & Mayhem project.
Chad B. reviews a recent The Civil Wars show in Austin.
Drummer Matt Abts Talks Planet of the Abts / Gov’t Mule with Chad B.
Kevin Russell of The Gourds chats with us about the band’s new album, their cover of Gin n Juice and much more.
Old 97’s @ Lincoln Hall, July 19
It’s unfair, when you think about it, but I’m also kind of glad the Old 97’s aren’t as beloved as many of their musical peers. Then, they’d be your band, in addition to my band.
We all have “my” bands. The band you hold tight and celebrate for your depth of knowledge and their consistently winning live experience. The band for which you’re more of an apologist than you should be when they don’t deliver. The band you spend a hell of a lot of time evangelizing and dragging less enthused pals to see in concert just because then they might finally get it.
Most “my” bands seem to have certain characteristics: a critical darling, perhaps, languishing in that concert space between rock clubs and theaters, too big for the former and not quite ever ready for the latter. You spend less time worried about whether they’ll ever make it over that hump, however, and just enjoy that they are. Rare do “my bands” ever seem to get there, anyway, unless, of course — like the band most often discussed on Hidden Track — they ascended on grassroots popularity and the wondrously shared experience of a whole lot of people who saw a true “my band” in formative years in Vermont.
READ ON for more on Old 97’s at Lincoln Hall…
Galactic @ Brooklyn Bowl feat. Warren Haynes – June 22
Words: Chad Berndtson
Photos: Robert Chapman
For many years, Galactic was a two-in-one band. On one side, an intense, massively funky instrumental group, and on the other, a rock-, soul- and R&B-soaked backing ensemble for the great Theryl “The Houseman” deClouet, who before he was waylaid by health problems, prowled – nay, owned — the stage for large sections of Galactic shows. Being that two-in-one gave Galactic a split personality, but the New Orleans-associated sounds it’s always been known for provided a common denominator, and gave its concerts natural flow.
[All photos by Rob Chapman]
Since the end of the Houseman era – about 2004 or so – Galactic’s been a lot tougher to define, and not because they’ve branched out farther in other musical directions, notably hip-hop. They’ve always been eclectic. It’s just that these days, a Galactic concert is more of a variety show: a core group of musicians that defines the band, but draws on an extended family of collaborators to fill gaps in some areas and augment Galactic in others. Are they welcome additions? Absolutely. Are they necessary? Depends. With so much emphasis placed on those guests, Galactic limits its repertoire, and also, it can be argued, muddles its identity a bit.
But what guests. Rebirth Brass Band trombonist Corey Henry is firmly in the fold now, essential to the Galactic fabric when a jam gets cooking. Living Colour singer Corey Glover, who punctuates Galactic much like the Houseman used to, is another compelling addition — a seriously capable rock, soul and R&B vocalist with a theatrical streak a mile wide.
READ ON for more from Galactic at Brooklyn Bowl…
Max Creek @ Sullivan Hall, April 29
Max Creek’s wearing 40 well. Or, to put it another way: you’re not regularly seeing shows by 40-year-old bands that were as effortlessly enjoyable and musically nourishing as the band’s two set monster at Sullivan Hall – the middle show in a three-night anniversary swing through Connecticut, New York and Rhode Island – and that don’t feel like canned revues coasting on nostalgia.
[All videos by NYCJamGal]
Max Creek is a curious institution. It never hit the big time or got much close to it, but it was a jamband before jambands were jambands: established long before Phish, Panic and the generations of improvisational rock acts since then, and really, a near-contemporary of both the Grateful Dead and the Allman Brothers Band, though with the tiniest fraction of the fame. It pulled back on touring just as the late ’80s/early ’90s jam seeds were sewn and the scene mushroomed, morphed and moved into the popular, yet fractured state it’s in now. But Creek still has particular renown, especially in New England, and its tri-state fans were out in force at Sullivan Hall.
Bassist John Rider is technically the lone original member, but guitarist Scott Murawski and keyboardist Mark Mercier have been around almost as long, and the band’s drum chair is now occupied by one- and two-man configurations of its various drummers since the mid ’80s: Scott Allshouse, Greg Vasso and Greg DeGuglielmo. Bands with such long-established chemistry are sometimes hindered by that comfort, and Max Creek, too, can sound workmanlike. But shit, can they still motor when they’re feeling good. It’s a well-stocked repertoire of originals and covers both well-worn and less-remembered, so often opened up with jam segments that are hearty, brilliant and powerfully expressive.
READ ON for more on Max Creek @ Sullivan Hall…
It probably would have been enough to let the cameras roll, do some tight close-ups of Alan Evans, Neal Evans and Eric Krasno getting all funky and dirty as only they know how; pan the sweaty Brooklyn Bowl crowd a few times and let the intensity of the music just carry the thing. But the Bowlive DVD is only partly about Soulive in concert; what you’re really getting with this abundantly pleasant release is two stories in one.
