more pictures from the show.

No one would've blamed The National for leaving their A game at home in Brooklyn when they came to Johnny Brenda's for the Philly stop on their current tour.

After all, the critically acclaimed New Yorkers by way of Cincy had just completed a 5 night sold out residency at the Bowery Ballroom in New York and their latest album, Boxer, has been lauded by pretty much anyone with an internet connection.

This is a band on a roll, rolling into Philly. To play a venue that holds 250 people. For one night.

Ok, so it WAS sold out, like, ages ago. But still. Philly can't hang with New York.

So, The National could've phoned this one in.

But they didn't. Not even close.

For a solid 90 minute set, Matt Berninger led The National through a 90 minute set that was empirical evidence of why this band is one of indie rock's most respected bands. The set list drew generously from the band's discography.

According to Music Snobbery, the setlist was as follows:

* Start A War
* Brainy
* Secret Meeting
* Baby, We'll Be Fine
* Slow Show
* Racing Like a Pro
* Lit Up
* Squalor Victoria
* Mistaken for Strangers
* Wasp Nest
* The Geese of Beverly Road
* Daughters of the Soho Riots
* ADA
* Apartment Story
* Fake Empire
* Mr. November
Encore:
* Abel
* About Today

The band is much more powerful live than they are on tape. While the studio albums are very good, they take it up a notch live. Berninger's baritone vocals, melancholy lyrics and soft head punches anchor the band, but the contributions come from everywhere. Drummer Bryan Devendorf is a composed force on the kit, and many of the most memorable moments from a National song include his stick work. The wall of guitar and bass comes courtesy of the Brothers Dessner (Aaron and Bryce) as well as Devendorf's brother Scott.

The most exciting musical displays of the night were plucked from the hands of the 6th (unnamed) National member who must be just touring with the band. I really was worried that this guy was going to suffer a stroke in the midst of his frenetic, 90 mph violin playing. He jumped back and forth between 2 violins, piano and various other instruments. He provided all of the extras that accounted for about 8 other musicians on the album.

The highlight of the night for came at the end of the first set as the band went back to back on Fake Empire and Mr. November. Berninger was electric during the latter as he screamed with everything he had that "I won't fuck us over, I'm Mr. November!" It was such a great way to end the show, I thought for sure there wouldn't be an encore, but the band did come out for 2 more songs, "Abel" and "About Today". The final 2 songs ended with vintage National, introspective and thoughtful.

Berninger was pretty talkative and cool with the audience, even with the unfortunate presence of the folks who feel the need to yelp at inappropriate times or try and create conversations with the band where none need to exist. I still to this day do not get that.

Berninger commented on Johnny Brenda's, saying that the venue may be "new" but it looked old and reminded him of a small Radio City. Last night was also my first visit to the JB's, and I'll definitely be back. What a nice, small room. Great acoustics, although I could use something other than microbrews behind the bar. How about a case of Miller Lite for us losers?

There is definitely a sizable population of talking heads, bloggers and fans who do not like this band. The comments of stereogum's review of one of the Bowery shows is littered with hate for the band (plus plenty of responses telling those folks to shut the fuck up). Brian seemed less than impressed with their opening set for Arcade Fire in May. He didn't even bother to mention it in his review. Even our buds at Badminton Stamps delivered a glancing blow in the band's direction on Friday:

Yeah, you could go check out The National on Saturday night. But really, JB's three nights in a row? And really, The National? Really?

I get the ambivalence; even the hate. The National ain't for everyone. It's brooding, slow building stuff that can take time to grow on you.

After initially meeting The National tunes that I first heard with a take or leave it attitude a few years ago, I definitely align myself as a fan.

Last night's show only further sealed the deal for me.

One note about Bear In Heaven, the opening band from Brooklyn. Drop the lead singer and the band has a future. The drummer was unbelievably good and the rest of the band was decent. The best parts of every song were when this Roger Daltrey at age 22 look-a-like started wailing. Literally.

Chris from Music Snobbery was there. Check out his review and pictures.
More pictures from the show.
Buy Boxer.
Buy Alligator.

Download

The National - Murder Me Rachael [mp3]
The National - Slipping Husband [mp3]
The National - Fake Empire [mp3]
National Podcast on AOL's Interface [mp3]

The Electric Factory may not have been completely sold out on Wednesday night for guitar duo Rodrigo y Gabriela's show, but it was certainly damn close. Due to visa problems in March, Rod and Gab were unable to enter the States for a string of shows including SXSW as well as a March 22nd show at the Factory.

I feel like I haven't been to a show in ages. In reality it's only been since January 19th, but Christ, that's long enough. A couple of aborted shows and missed opportunities led to my abysmal early '07 showing. Luckily, April, May and June look quite promising.

Friday night was a great chance to get back on the horse. The NME.com sponsored tour of Annuals, The Walkmen and Kaiser Chiefs at The Electric Factory live up to it's billing. When the opener of a 3 act show is one of the music blogs '06 favorites, you know you're in for a good night.

Neither freezing rain...nor sleet...nor knee injuries to the lead singer...could keep The Pogues from performing in Philadelphia last Friday night.

As my 33rd birthday nears, my tolerance for the nonsense that goes on at rock shows is starting to wane. Annoying teenagers, people who talk during a band's set, tall people who have no problem standing in front of the vertically-challenged; these are just a few of the things that make going to general admission concerts a bit of a chore. As far as Philly venues are concerned, the Electric Factory has never been one of my favorites. It feels too cavernous and it has horrible site-lines. Needless to say, the prospect of going to the Electric Factory was the only thing keeping me from being very excited about last night's gig by The Shins.

Luckily, the band is really freakin' good, because I soon forgot about any ridiculous venue worries.

Starting the show with the first four tracks from latest album Wincing The Night Away, The Shins set the tone early that this was going to be a fun, enjoyable show. Taking to the stage to the opening keyboard strains of "Sleeping Lessons", frontman James Mercer's yelp grew more intense as the song's momentum built. However, the band really hit their stride in the middle of the set, starting with a slowed-down, less-rocking/more-atmospheric rendition of "Girl On The Wing" - which was a nice Mercer showcase - immediately followed by a gorgeous version of "New Slang." Bassist/guitarist Dave Hernandez turned up the rock when the band performed "Saint Simon" next, adding a much harder-edged guitar to the verses than what is found on Chutes Too Narrow, which contrasted nicely with the sweetness of the "la la la la" chorus.

Thankfully, with the addition of newest member Eric Johnson, the quintet was able to replicate the full sound from Wincing The Night Away. The band stretched to a six-piece at times, with special mention going to Anita Robinson of show openers Viva Voce, who helped augment The Shins' sound nicely with the tender harmonies she added to "New Slang."

The quiet, ethereal moodiness of "A Comet Appears" was a personal highlight, and the band's rollicking, jangly take on "So Says I" was a great way to end the night.

To say that The Shins played an great show is an understatement. My girlfriend Jessica and I both remarked that they played almost every song that we wanted to hear. I was definitely excited by the inclusion of "Know Your Onion!", a song I wasn't expecting them to play. For lack of better phrase, it was a "greatest hits" set, featuring all of the best songs from the band's three albums. (The only disappointment for me personally was the omission of "Spilt Needles", my favorite song from Wincing The Night Away. But that's a minor complaint.)

On another happy note, Jessica presented me with an early birthday present last night: a digital camera. Unfortunately, by the time we both got home from work, we had to leave for the show, so I wasn't able to charge the camera, but look for some pics later this week when we travel to see Jesse Malin at the Tin Angel, then march back to the Electric Factory for The Pogues on Friday night.

"I hate the whole 'blame the media' slant that many celebrities take when things don't go their way, but too often in this city, sportswriters attempt to make the news rather than just report it. Each moment, no matter how trivial or minor, is analyzed to death."

In case you missed it, the Philadelphia media breathlessly reported on yesterday's Donovan McNabb Chunky Soup press conference with a fervor and zeal usually reserved for coverage of assassinated heads of state.

The reason for the intense interest? Well, apparently, McNabb and Eagles head coach Andy Reid ruffled some feathers a few weeks ago when Reid cancelled a scheduled McNabb press conference, thereby denying the soap opera-obsessed writers in this town an opportunity to ask Donovan if he's jealous of Jeff Garcia. Yesterday, they finally got their chance.

You know that scene in Wayne’s World where Wayne goes to the music shop to gaze at the guitar that he just has to have? A staff member takes it out of the case for him and he begins to fiddle with it, choosing “Stairway to Heaven” as his lick of choice until the staffer admonishes him and points to their posted policy against anyone playing Zeppelin’s most famous song. The ubiquitous nature of "Stairway" is one of rock n roll’s great clichés.

I’ll bet you Rodrigo and Gabriela know the joke well, and couldn’t care less. They proved it last night when they closed out their brilliant set at The TLA with the song in front of a sellout crowd of music aficionados, Spanish guitar fans, metalheads and a few hipsters thrown in just to make sure all demos were accounted for.

Mrs. Freelove and I got to the TLA with no expectations about how packed the place would be. In fact, the show had sold out on the strength of airplay on WXPN and an appearance on WMMR yesterday morning. It was the most packed show I’ve ever seen at The TLA.

Judging from the make-up of the three-quarters-full First Unitarian Church last night, We Are Scientists’ female fan base continues to grow with each show they play, due in no small part to WAS frontman Keith Murray. No exaggeration: the fans populating the first 3 rows of bodies in front of the stage all lacked a Y chromosome. To say that Murray attracts the ladies is an understatement. One of those adoring females was my niece Allison, who had the good fortune to meet Murray after she stalked him near the WAS merch table during The Grates’ opening set. Murray was quite accommodating as she fawned all over him. He’s a nice guy to take the time to talk to her.

Despite the fact that my ticket stated that doors for the show were at 7:30, the large crowd lined-up outside the Church was not admitted to the basement until after 8:00. It was an annoying delay, which was made even worse by the fact that show-openers The Grates didn’t hit the stage until 9:00. Luckily, the Australian three-piece’s bouncy and infectious pop punk allayed any fears that I would be in for a long night. Grates lead singer Patience Hodgson has a TON of energy. She bantered quite a bit with the crowd, and seemed to really enjoy herself onstage, hopping and dancing around like a woman possessed. At one point, she even used a gymnastics ribbon as a prop, similar to the one that Will Ferrell wielded during his interpretive-dance floor exercise at the end of Old School. This was the first time I heard their music, and my first impression was that they sound somewhat similar to the Yeah Yeah Yeahs, although Hodgson has a stronger voice than YYYs Karen O. As Hodgson sang, “Science is golden”, the crowd was hooked.

Brooklyn’s Oxford Collapse followed, and soon had the crowd bouncing to their Gang Of Four-esque rock. This was the second time I’ve seen them open for WAS, and their playing seemed tighter and their sound more cohesive than during my initial introduction. Mike Henry’s bass rumbled through the setlist, providing a clean and sometimes funky anchor for the band. WAS drummer Michael Tapper joined them onstage for one number. Oxford Collapse seem to be most concerned with playing no-frills rock. They thrash hard, but never at the expense of a catchy tune.

We Are Scientists took to the stage as Phil Collins’ “Against All Odds” blared over the house speakers. Halfway through Phil’s tortured ballad, the band then launched into their own version of the song to begin the show. It was an inspired opener. Most of the We Are Scientists set was comprised of tunes from debut album With Love And Squalor, with a few new tunes sprinkled in. A particularly frenzied “Nobody Move, Nobody Get Hurt” elicited one of the biggest reactions of the night, as the crowd in front of the stage sang along and worked themselves into a state of delirium.

Of course, a We Are Scientists show wouldn’t be complete without the back-and-forth joking between Murray and bassist Chris Cain. They soon began competing for the audience’s affection, as Cain stated that his moustache would “inspire the crowd to reach for greatness.”

Toward the end of the set, the band performed a slow, groovy cover of Art Brut’s “Bang Bang Rock & Roll”, complete with Cain shouting the “White Light, White Heat!” backing vocals. Their version sounds nothing like the hard-charging original. In fact, until Keith Murray started singing, I wasn’t sure what Art Brut song they were actually playing.

The crowd went nuts as the band wrapped-up their 70 minute set with fist-pumping favorite “The Great Escape.” All in all, it was a great triple-bill, made all the more enjoyable by the intimate confines of the Church.

More pictures from the show.

Seeing the Hold Steady at an all ages show was tantamount to going to a Dead show and there's no pot. Even lead guitarist Tad Kubler lightly admonished the crowd for being lame. He was quickly reminded that we were all 100% sober. Now it makes sense. Lead singer Craig Fin promised they'd come back to Philly soon and play a 21+ show.

More pictures from the show.

There was a palpable sense of anticipation in the pews of the First Unitarian Church on Thursday night. The impending performance of indie's resident nightingale Joanna Newsom will do that to a Church full of music lovers. The sight of Newsom's Celtic harp in the middle of the converted altar/stage is alone enough to get the hairs on the back of your neck in a tizzy.

Joanna has been unfairly shoehorned into the unfortunately named "freak folk" genre. As the story goes, she plays June Carter to Devendra Banhart's Johnny Cash. Perhaps I'm just not as impressed with Banhart as some, but I see Newsom as having more of a kinship with Antony Hegarty, another undisputable talent with a voice for the ages.

Newsom came on stage for the first three songs alone, adorned in a simple red dress. The beautiful chanteuse and her instrument; nothing else. She ended any concerns of disappointment on my part when she opened with the poetic, abstract "Bridges and Balloons". Her graceful fingers manipulated the harp strings as she warbled, "We sailed away on a winter's day/with fate as malleable as clay/but ships are fallible, I say/and the nautical, like all things, fades". Newsom's unique voice that has turned off its fair share of listeners, is more accessible in the live setting, although I almost regretted that. When listening to her studio albums, it's as though Chaucer gave a young girl some of his stories to read and she decided to sing them instead.

She followed up "Bridges and Balloons" with the "The Book of Right-On" another standout track from 2004's seminal The Mile-Eyed Mender. By the time she'd gotten to her third hymn, a old Scottish song that I didn't get the name of, the crowd was mesmerized, and the only sounds in the sanctuary other than Newsom's 2 instruments was the rapturous applause between songs. Other than that, the place was dead quiet.

The next 50 minutes or so saw Joanna joined by her band on stage as they performed her fantastic new album, Ys, from beginning to end. Van Dyke Parks' arrangements do not get quite the same treatment live as they do on the album, but the pared down versions showed just how impressive of a performer Newsom is, as the 24 year old and her band provided impressive alternative viewpoints on Parks' orchestration.

I have been a little surprised by some of the reaction to Ys. The album has received mixed reviews in some circles for being impenetrable in comparison to The Milk-Eyed Mender. The LP has just 5 songs, none shorter than I've listened to the album probably 5 times already and while I found immediate gratification in the first listen, each subsequent spin has revealed more to dissect, making Ys one of the more rewarding albums to listen to with a pair of good headphones. Only the sprawling (17 minutes long), slightly overwrought "Only Skin" saw me drift off. In fact, I started nodding off. While "Only Skin" is the weakest song on Ys, it is still a beautiful sounding, if not entirely satisfying, experience.

Joanna and the band left the stage after they completed Ys closer, "Cosmia". The congregation rose to its feet for a passionate ovation that didn't cease until Newsom returned, this time alone, to put a sweet bow on the evening with "Sadie" and "Peach, Plum, Pear" both from her 2004 debut. A standing room only crowd was sent back into the Philadelphia night after being transformed, if only for an hour and a half, into Joanna Newsom's world of rich storytelling and allegory.

More pictures from the show.
The BM Rant on Flickr.

My girlfriend Jessica and I traveled to Fishtown last night to see one of our favorite recent discoveries, Texas troubadour Micah P. Hinson. It was our first visit to Johnny Brenda's, located at Frankford and Girard, and Jessica was immediately pleased with both the club's interior architecture and overall vibe of the main room. Truth be told, she was most impressed that her beverage of choice, Woodchuck Cider, was available on tap. God bless her.

Philly's-own Relay didn't open the show until 9:45, which meant that two working stiffs like Jess and I were in for a long night, and an even longer morning. I liked some of Relay's stuff. It seemed like they were reaching for a sound parked somewhere between Pornography-era Cure and My Bloody Valentine, but the shared vocals of the guitar player and the female keyboardist were unfortunately buried deep in the mix, making it hard to grab onto a melody. They had a few good tunes, and there was a nice interplay between the guitar and keyboard, but a few too many of their songs stretched into needlessly extended jams for my taste.

Glasgow, Scotland's The Twilight Sad appeared on stage next, and immediately knocked the audience back on their heels with their thrashing guitars and wall of distorted sound. I think I saw some of the nearby annoying hipsters physically recoil at the sheer level of noise. The Twilight Sad know how to bring the rock, but they maintained my interest because lead vocalist James Graham has a clear, distinctive, tuneful voice, coupled with an enigmatic stage presence. The guy can actually sing, and the harshness of the music offers a nice counterpoint to his vocals. In an industry where indie rock bands often overlook the importance of a lead singer who can actually carry a tune, The Twilight Sad are the pleasant exception. Their guitars are anthemic and the rhythm section thunderous. I purchased their EP, and spoke to guitarist Andy MacFarlane and bass player Craig Orzel after their set. They're in America working on their debut album, maintaining a residency at Piano's in New York City, and also playing some shows in nearby East Coast cities. These guys put on a very intense show, and I was very impressed. Very good stuff.

Wednesday night’s gig at The TLA in Philadelphia might have been the first time I’d seen Amos Lee.

Then again, he may have been the guy drawing my pint of Harp at The Tin Angel a few years back.

I don’t mean that in some metaphoric Amos-Lee-is-a-Philadelphia-everyman sort of way. I mean it literally. Because back in 2003, that’s where he was – tending bar at the Old City haunt where the Jess Kleins and John Wesley Hardings of the singer-songwriter world would stop as they swung through town.

More pictures from the show

Best show ever. Period.

There was jump rope with a mic cord. The obligatory stage diving. Eddie in the crowd. Jasper Future's whimsical facial expressions. Ian Catskilkin's histrionics on lead guitar. Freedy Feedback's understated, polka-dotted bass playing. Mikey B's signature stand up drum technique. There were new songs. There were old songs. There was "Back in Black". We were lectured by Eddie to not listen to people in bands anymore (except for The Mountain Goats and Jonathan Richman, who are approved by Argos to continue listening to).

Art Brut ripped the whole house down to the kitchen sink and the goddamn copper piping. They mamed, destroyed and pillaged The Starlight Ballroom. We were all witnesses to absolute rock n roll carnage. And we fucking loved it.

By the end of the set Sean Agnew was on stage trying to tell the difference between members of The Spinto Band, who had joined Art Brut on stage for the show closer, "Good Weekend", and the 5 or so fans looking to stage dive at the same time. Kids at the front were on the stage, kneeling in front of the monitors until roadies and Agnew could get them down. In Brian's words, "All hell broke loose." And it was all fun. There was no violent dancing. No fists or elbows flying. Just a room full of music nuts smart enough to know how great this band is. Since we last saw them in the Philly area in April, Art Brut has refined their live show the way a brewmaster delicately coaxes his ingredients into some tasty masterpiece.

So Saturday night was the long awaited pairing of avant garde troupe Architecture in Helsinki and Clap Your Hands Say Yeah. The show easily lived up to the hype. New Yorkers Takka Takka opened. This was the first show in a long time where all three bands were well worth seeing. Takka Takka reminded me from the get go of The Velvet Underground. High praise, yes, but the lead singer's voice and the tone of the band's music instantly hit me as being influenced by Lou Reed. Mrs. Freelove said I was nuts, but a quick search on google today confirmed that I am not the only person who thinks this.

Architecture in Helsinki had nearly as many fans at the show as Clap Your Hands. When AIH came on stage, the place went nuts, and for the majority of the set the crowd was way into it, singing along to a lot of songs that I didn't know. Despite not being as schooled in the band's discography, we were thoroughly impressed with their energy and genuineness on stage. The band was totally having fun and enjoying the moment. Near the end of the set the band announced that they would play one more song, which was greeted with a smattering of groans and a call to "Keep playing". Now, don't get me wrong, this wasn't like when stellastarr* co-headlined with Editors and the place nearly emptied after stellastarr*'s set ended. But AIH was hardly some throw in act. The fact that the show sold out over a week ago was due in par to the Architecture in Helsinki's fan base.

Well that was different.

I certainly expected indie wunderkind Sufjan Stevens' show at The Tower Theatre to be higher on productions values that your run of the mill indie show. After all, last year he sold out 5 Bowery shows in New York and framed each evening with a different theme to keep things fresh. Sufjan has become something far bigger since then. On the same day a year ago, Sufjan played the TLA in what was assuredly in a much different show. The dramatic change in venue and style no doubt are due to releasing the most critically acclaimed album of 2005, Illinois.

Last night was no exception. Stevens hit the stage with 14 (I think) of his closest friends-each wearing a pair of oversized wings on their backs. His 1 1/2 hour plus set was a fantastic mix of crowd pleasing favorites and lesser known gems. The Tower's acoustics were perfect for Sufjan's sound. The horns, specifically, sounded fantastic. there were times I wished the band had morphed into some chamber folk version of Phish and start vamping for 25 minutes.

But what really made last night different from most shows was more about the little things. Like sitting for the entire show, and only rising at the end to give the band a standing ovation. Or the fact that Sufjan never once acknowledged where he was. At times it had the vibe of a high school band concert; with the large ensemble standing in place at their music stands, waiting for their conductor to guide them through the song list.

I didn't mind it at all, in fact I mentioned multiple times to Mrs. Freelove, who accompanied me, that it was refreshing to be at a show where both my feet and ears would live to see another day.

The size of the the Tower Theatre made for a great sounding show, although I missed the type of intimacy that those who have seen Sufjan at smaller venues have gushed about. The band played their songs brilliantly and the audience sat with rapt attention. Barely a whisper could be heard during much of the show, and anyone who dared to make much noise was greeted with snarky glares.

Sufjan closed the initial set with the beautiful, indescribable Chicago. As the song wound down, the crowd rose in unison for the first time to applaud the band for an inspired set. A 2 song encore awaited those of us who preferred music to rainy Upper Darby streets.