I learned at an early age to heed the sage advice of those two important wisdom dispensers that regularly preached “Don’t believe the hype.”
That strong warning from Chuck D and Flava Flav against getting caught in a rushing, gushing torrent of positive hysteria has often proven prophetic, but as it turns out after my virginal awakening last night at the Roseland Ballroom, My Morning Jacket is clearly the exception that proves the rule.
Jimmy James Incorporated (any Newsradio fans?) and the disgusting amount of hype surrounding the Louisville-based “post-jam” band blew through New York like Hurricane Gloria last night, and I’m not entirely sure of the last time I’ve exited a show with such a strong first impression or melted face: The caliber of their balls-to-the-wall, fuck-your-face rock from start to finish actually made my brain hurt from all the spastic headbanging I involuntarily enjoyed.
It must’ve been my morning blazer night at the Roseland as well, with more sport jackets per capita than any venue in the country. But the well-diversified crowd came to rock, and from the hot-out-of-the-gate opener to the 36-song encore, MMJ last night exhibited all the qualities that have just about every music blogger out there calling them the “best band in the country.” After that show, I can’t disagree, either because they were that damn good, or because I’m hurting so bad this morning I feel like Terri Schiavo over here…
I learned at an early age to heed the sage advice of those two important wisdom dispensers that regularly preached “Don’t believe the hype.”
That strong warning from Chuck D and Flava Flav against getting caught in a rushing, gushing torrent of positive hysteria has often proven prophetic, but as it turns out after my virginal awakening last night at the Roseland Ballroom, My Morning Jacket is clearly the exception that proves the rule.
Jimmy James Incorporated (any Newsradio fans?) and the disgusting amount of hype surrounding the Louisville-based “post-jam” band blew through New York like Hurricane Gloria last night, and I’m not entirely sure of the last time I’ve exited a show with such a strong first impression or melted face: The caliber of their balls-to-the-wall, fuck-your-face rock from start to finish actually made my brain hurt from all the spastic headbanging I involuntarily enjoyed.
It must’ve been my morning blazer night at the Roseland as well, with more sport jackets per capita than any venue in the country. But the well-diversified crowd came to rock, and from the hot-out-of-the-gate opener to the 36-song encore, MMJ last night exhibited all the qualities that have just about every music blogger out there calling them the “best band in the country.” After that show, I can’t disagree, either because they were that damn good, or because I’m hurting so bad this morning I feel like Terri Schiavo over here…
There’s nothing quite like finishing the long week after the Thanksgiving holiday — we’re a mere three weeks from Christmas and four weeks from New Year’s. But before you get
There’s nothing quite like finishing the long week after the Thanksgiving holiday — we’re a mere three weeks from Christmas and four weeks from New Year’s. But before you get
I’m not very technologically advanced. Sure I’ve got two blogs, a cellular telephone, a handful of DVR boxes and wireless Internets, but if technological stupidity were dirt, I’d cover a full acre or two. I’m
On December 29th at Atlanta’s Roxy Theatre, Widespread Panic will play their second annual Tunes for Tots charity concert to directly support music education in Georgia area schools. At last
When Michael Franti summons “how you feelin?” people respond. This was clearly the case at Boston’s Avalon Ballroom as Michael Franti and Spearhead had 1,500 bodies jumping to their rockin reggae rhythms, while fans responded with full lung capacity to Franti’s vigorous calls.
Fourteen years since his last release, Out of the Cradle, Buckingham emerges once again from the shadows with Under the Skin.
British rock/psychedelic/dance/blues outfit Primal Scream went in a new direction with albums like XTRMNTR and Evil Heat. But for every crazed, brilliant mash-up of these genres, Primal Scream can also deliver straightforward, sleazy rock and roll. And this is what their latest, Riot City Blues is all about.
