Monday: Alberta Cross is a beardy sort of band, sure. And, yeah, they have a few shows set over seas with Dave Matthews Band. Forget that part entirely (I only mentioned it to be fai)r. It feels like the group wants to have a throwback ’70s rock feel. But it’s the rootsier tracks, like “Low Man,” that work for them, not the larger, We-Wanna-Be-U2 sound. In their better moments singer Petter Ericson Stakee’s voice is shakey and passionate, which makes for a lovely little pairing when done right. With Hacienda and The John Olmstead Band, $10 – $12, 8 p.m., Khyber, 56 S. 2nd. St., 215-238-5888.
Tuesday: While Tape won’t rock your face off, this Swedish band will provide some haunting electronica. Like many electronic tunes, their songs tend to build up within themselves. Some of the tracks, though, just string you along, giving hints here and there of ripples, but they’re really just fractured tangents. Think of them as a subdued version of The Books. With Mountains, $12, 8 p.m., Chapel at the First Unitarian Church, 2125 Chestnut St., 215-563-3980.
Wednesday: Get a little soul in your life with the inspirational Angie Stone. The woman’s got some gospel background, made clear when she stretches her larger than life pipes. But the same way a speaking softly will draw a person closer, her softer tracks are equally as impressive. She’s got a sexy, raspy voice that demands just as much attention as when she’sbeltin’ it out. With Leela James. $39.50 – $49.50, 8 p.m., Keswick Theatre, 291 N. Keswick Ave., 215-572-7650.
Thursday:Velvet Davenport gives you throwback sounds with a touch of contemporary weirdness. They combine ’60s tambourine with more recent chamber pop loops. But then there are moments, like their song “Kennedy Funk Jam,” where it sounds like they’ve added in the sound of Charles Manson’s nightmares. With Nymph, Florida, Spooks, and iDeath, $5 – $10 donations, 8 p.m., Danger Danger Gallery, 5013 Baltimore Ave.
Friday: Jemina Pearl is the dirty little punker (formerly of Be Your Own Pet) who is way smarter than the boys she teases. Her songs bounce around between ’60s pop and ’80s dance and her lyrics are so simple it’s almost insulting. But there’s something about the subject matter (like the song “I Hate People”) or the delivery of the lines that makes it feel like she sees straight through every situation. With the Successful Failures and the Edison Proposal, $10, 9 p.m., Manhattan Room, 15 W.Girard Ave., 215-739-5577.
Saturday: Ohmygod, super sweet sythny indie pop alert! Phantogram is the dancey duo you want to carry around in your pocket because they’re just so freaking adorable. They hint at a darker side with a touch of fuzz and droning, and spookier riffs, but it just comes off as cute all over again. Are they strikingly different from otherelectro dance groups? No. They have carved a little corner out for themselves with a sound that looks backwards to Portishead and Tricky rather than putting their blinders on to every other band and “progressing” forward in a scene that is dominating music currently. That means they don’t sound like MGMT or Phoenix. With The Silent League, TJ Kong and the Atomic Bomb, and Junk Culture, 8 p.m., $8, Kung Fu Necktie, 1250 N. Front St., 215-291-4919.
Sunday: If you’re not one of those hopeless romantics going to see Kid Rock at the Borgota this V-Day, check out El Perro Del Mar. She’ll be doling out the delicate, wispy lo-fi dream-tunes. Another Swede! That’s two in one Showdown, that has to be a record or something. This should make for a relaxing end to the week. With Taken By Trees, $15 – $18, 8 p.m., World Cafe Live, 3025 Walnut St., 215-222-1400.
Nothing but dog-whistle high notes and a flotilla of dancers to keep her company.
“Welcome to my living room,” Mariah Carey said to the audience at the Tower Theater on Monday night. Although she happened to be in the vicinity of a few pieces of furniture at the time, there was little intimate about the show. Dwarfed by a massive, curtained riser that ran the length of the stage, atop which her four-piece band — half rhythm section, half keyboard — perched in the background, Carey faced the audience with nothing but dog-whistle high notes and a flotilla of dancers to keep her company. From the look of it, this was a show meant for stadiums, or at least casino ballrooms, crammed into a much smaller venue. (At least, the stage was crammed: there were more than a few unsold seats in the house.)
Carey’s sole concession to the scaled-down venue was the casual attitude with which she addressed the audience in between songs. Peppering her speech with “like”s and “whatever”s, she solicited advice on one of her many dressed, called for adjustments to the center stage fan meant to kept her hair aloft (“like in the â€Obsessed’ video”) and complained good-naturedly about the chatter in her earpiece about which song to play next. It was as if she were only a small piece in a larger machine, rather than its creator and chief operator. The lush and sometimes syrupy combination of live instruments and backing tracks threatened at times to swallow her whole.
Make no mistake: Carey was in control of all times. If the instrumentation build a formidable wall of sound, it was only because she has the voice to cut through it. She was loose between songs but tight during them: you had the feeling they would sound the same every night on tour, each note and each slur in its assigned place. Perhaps her living room is like that as well. Just keep your feet off the couch.
Well, I have huevos all over my face. I thought last night was just going to be a shitty clip show featuring only the best, worst and bat shit insane from American Idol’s audition circuit (which is why Molly went to go see From Paris With Love instead). I appreciate their efforts, but I don’t really need a “previously on American Idol” recap — the shows not that hard to follow. So I was thrown off when I got a pretty decent episode but I’ll try my best to bullshit my way through this post.
“General” Pants (On The Ground) had a lovely tribute but I would expect nothing less for a hero than a “POTG” rendition performed by Ithaca College’s A Capella group (probably called something like “Tune Up” or “Sweet Emotions”) (Side note: Molly’s sister Jodie, who is a sophomore at Ithaca actually gave us the scoop on this before the show). Larry Platt is awesome and I hope he returns to perform on the finale. For chrissake, the man fucking fought to desegregate Savannah, got his ass kicked all the way from Selma to Montgomery so that Rev. Hosea Williams could dub him “General” — a name given to him to illustrate his sheer badassness. And if you’re ever in Atlanta on September 4th don’t forget to celebrate Larry Platt Day. That’s right. There’s a fucking holiday for him. Where’s your holiday? Right. So shut up and show some respect.
Oddly enough, there were lots “never before seen” contestants who were left out until now for reasons I can’t comprehend. The majority of them were more interesting and often better than other contestants from subsequent episodes. Even the weirdos were weirder! Take the 6′8″ gentle giant who sang like a 13-year-old girl. He was more fun to watch than some redneck being told he sucks just so he can flip out on the judges while America watches uncomfortably. If American Idol wanted to save the best for last, I really wish they wouldn’t have prefaced the best with six weeks of bullshit.
I really enjoyed the episode but it still exhausted me. And the fact that watching television makes me exhausted is another topic all together. But it was like I had finished a multiple choice test only to find an essay portion on the last page. I’ll just take my D and move on. If anything this was just a way for American Idol to hedge it’s bets and give some screen time to people before Hollywood airs next week.
Hollywood week might be my favorite portion of the show because it’s the survivor round. This is the week where people fight, back stab, double talk and cry. Boy, do they cry. I shouldn’t have to mention it, but Hollywood week is also when we welcome Ellen Degeneres to the judge’s table. From what I gathered from the few seconds of clips, Ellen has some sack. I don’t think she is going to be the nice, cutesy Paula fill-in we thought she’d be. Leave the pats on the back to Kara, Ellen is here to shake things up.
Another side note: Even though my readership is only as widespread as the people in my office I force to read this, I want to wish a happy birthday to my mom in Brenham, TX. You don’t look a day over awesome. Love you!
Tommy Button: Molly, I always said you had a face for radio. And a personalty for public radio! But seriously, folks. I’ve been working on my radio voice for at least two weeks and I think I got it down pat. Prepare to have your eardrums sexed real good in the coming weeks.
Denver Auditions
TB: So, American Idol kicked off Black History Month by featuring one of the whitest cities in America. Sorry, Seattle.
ME: Yes, but how many cities can make that many “rocks” puns? I love a good rock pun. Denver rocks, Rocktober … Naw, fuck it, they suck.
Monday:Mariah Carrey’s shattering wine glasses tonight. She’s been doing plenty of touring, so catch the pop sensation before the threat of exhaustion. Remember last time. It’s okay, girl, we still love you. Just make sure you sing “Fantasy.” 7:30 p.m., $59.75 – $200.75, Tower Theatre, 19 S. 69th St, 610-352-2887.
Tuesday: If you don’t have tickets to the sold out Delta Spirit show tonight, you’re going to have to do two things: First, buy your tickets for their next show at KFN on Feb. 9. Second, find yourself a different show for tonight. Fire Blue Sun are probably your best bet. Their songs have a touch of cheese, but you have to enjoy the fact that they are dedicated to the dark side, making songs like Evanescence, only without the powerhouse voice of Amy Lee. Their guitars are a little wonky-sounding, adding some funk to the package and making for a trippy sound. With Dayseam, $8, 8 p.m., M Room, 15 W. Girard Ave., 215-739-5577.
Wednesday: Playing around with dub sounds and hopelessly long solos, Retribution Gospel Choirare melodramatic yet somehow fun. With With Midnight Sounds, $10, 8 p.m., Kung Fu Necktie, 1250 N. Front St., 215-291-4919.
Thursday: Seattle homies Minus the Bear strike a fine balance in their music. They take beard-band-music, indie pop and rock together, swirl them all together so that no one genre has the upper hand for too long. They’re going to be way the hell out in Allentown, but worth the trip. With Phantogram and Maps and Atlases, $16 – $18, 7 p.m., Crocodile Rock Cafe, 520 W. Hamilton St., Allentown, 610-434-4600.
Friday: Nneka’s Afro-German roots meet head on with American blues guitar and pop, creating an explosion of sounds rich and sweet. But never too sweet, this independent girl will also kick your ass if you mess with her. At 9 p.m., $15- $17, World Cafe Live, 3025 Walnut St., 215-222-1400.
Saturday: If Cat Power’s voice and Neko Case’s voice made sweet, sweet love to each other, you’d likely get the voice of Pepi Ginsberg. But the soft sounds are delivered with razor sharp lyrics that tell amazing little stories. With Exit Clov and The Armchairs, $10, 9 p.m., Johnny Brenda’s, 1201 N. Frankford Ave., 215-739-9684.
Sunday: The man who told you back in 1988 that the Revolution will not be televised: Gil Scott-Heron. What better way to spend your Sunday than in an intimate little place with the a badass poet-musician? At 6 p.m., $25, Tin Angel, 20 S. 2nd St., 215-928-0770.
Sting is doing tomorrow night’s Academy of Music’s 153rd Anniversary Concert with the Philadelphia Orchestra, a bunch of locals known as the Fabulous Philadelphians and a quartet of jazz cats — Dominic Miller on guitar, David Sancious on piano, Vinnie Colaiuta on drums, and bassist Christian McBride. He’s up on the classical tip, what with having grown a great big bushy beard and releasing oh-so-wack pretentious albums such as If On A Winter’s Night… (why didn’t he end that thought?) and the lute-filled Songs from the Labyrinth, so those in attendance will be satisfied. And anyone who has been hanging around Broad Street has probably spied Sting hanging around the Kimmel (where he was sighted on Wednesday) and the Ritz-Carlton, where he was spotted with his missus, Trudy Styler.
Here’s the press on the Ball. Have at it, bow-tie daddies.
After he watched American Idol last night, Barack Obama gave his first State of The Union address. He talked a lot about jobs and health care, even gave the gays a shoutout, but surprisingly didn’t mention why Randy Jackson had a shirt on that just said “dude.” You would think a man desperately trying to reconnect with the American people would at least give a few minutes to talk about American Idol. Mr. President, prove you are not just a president of words, but of song, as well. Rahm Emanuel probably wouldn’t let him bring it up; he much prefers America’s Got Talent as a cultural barometer. Plus, he loooooves the Hoff.
There haven’t been a lot of great cities in this season’s audition tour, but Dallas proved to be chock full of talent as it has in past seasons. I’m a born and bred Texan, and I think Dallas sucks and I hate the Cowboys so saying Dallas is awesome isn’t easy. But facts don’t lie. 31 people from Dallas went to Hollywood, putting all the other cities to shame.
Lloyd Thomas busted out some Stevie Wonder as well as a Texas-sized portion of charm. If Lloyd, NPH and I ever get together in one room, there might just be a charm Chernobyl. Lloyd has a beautiful, sweet voice that probably sings his daughters to sleep every night or at least rocks the mic at company parties. Doogie gave the best diagnosis, though, saying that he needed a little more pizazz in his performance. Let some of that charisma out on the stage and it’ll be as Lloyd put it himself: “delicious.” Click For More »
This week is going to be a little different, kids. Molly Eichel’s got a pre-season BBQ-eating competition in Austin this week so it’s just you and me. It’ll be like that time your mom went to wine country with her book club and all you had to eat was canned soup and frozen waffles for a week.
This episode did the most excellent job of summing up L.A. as a sea of delusional people who are all “gunna make it” and a few talented people sprinkled here and there. Four, actually. There were four people. And four is probably less than a sprinkle, but I’m no scientist.
Monday: At first listen, Fyfe Dangerfield might come off cheesy, too suave and disgustingly full of pop love. And, well, he is all of these things. He’s even got a pretty, albeit scruff-covered, face, too. But strip a few things away and you’ll see that the man has a sexual serge that he hints at in the opening to his tune “When You Walk in the Room” that can only be influenced by none other but Prince himself. At World Cafe Live, $12-$14, 8 p.m., 3025 Walnut St., 215-222-1400.
Tuesday:Aoru Mora probably won’t blow your mind, but they will brighten up your Tuesday evening. They’re a fresh band that feel like they’re rockin’ some of their influences more than their own music. In time, perhaps, this little indie band from Farmdale will fill out and take the form of their own band. For now, though, they remain an enjoyable indie rock band with tinges of psychedelic tendencies. With Welcome to Earf, $8, 8 p.m., The Khyber, 56. S. 2nd St., 215-238-5888.
Wednesday: Lords of uber catchy tunes Locksley close out their residency at the M Room. Haven’t seen them yet? Go find out what makes their songs so infectious. Hint: chanting back-up vocals, wild drums with plenty of symbols a-crashin’ and pounding guitar hooks. With The World at Large and Sure Juror, $8, 8 p.m., M Room, 215-739-5577.
Thursday: The Entrance Band creates music that somehow fuses past and future. Sounds like it should be the present, I know, but it doesn’t work like that. They make they elaborate songs that are as psychedelic before they cross the line into laughable. Then, the trio is able to make riffs that ring almost futuristic, and certainly miles ahead of basic stuff so many other bands are doing today. With Lights and Sunshine Recorder, $10, 9 p.m., Johnny Brenda’s, 1201 N. Frankford Ave., 215-739-9684.
Friday: I’m not going to say The Carnivores sound like some good old fashioned Animal Collective because everyone else has already said it. But has anyone noticed the Bikini Kill edge on songs where co-vocalist Caitlin Lang sings, like”Oregon Trail”? It’s not even the brash vocals, though. It’s the fact that these moments are the ones where the guitar strings are torn and start peeling back from the instrument’s neck. Then there’s the lo-fi, fuzzy aspect, something that never gets old to me. Then they add a touch of surf rock, pulling the whole thing together for a hazy, I-got-a-little-too-wrecked-too-remember-what-happened-this-summer-but-I-know-I-had-fun-and-I-know-I-got-my-heart-broken kind of vibe. With Orbit to Leslie and Power Animal, $5-$10 donations, 8 p.m., Danger Danger Gallery, 5013 Baltimore Ave.
Saturday: U2’s album Joshua Tree was a major commercial and artistic success. No, U2 will not be in town tonight, but you can go catch Earl Pickens and Familyrecreate the historic album acoustically. They turn an Irish band’s love letter to America into Americana and make it sound like that’s the way is was meant to be in the first place. Almost. With Scrapple Creek Runners, $12-$15, 8 p.m., Kennet Flash, 102 Sycamore Alley, 484-732-8295.
Sunday: A band that lists e.e. cummings as one of their influences has to be pretentious. It’s a law. But Philly locals The Absinthe Drinkers resist falling into that category. Most of the time. They posses a sweet weirdness similar to They Might Be Giants, only more theatrical. Drawing influences from classic authors to cultivate haunting little ditties while looping original videos at their shows make it safe to say you won’t find anything else like this going on tonight. Add in one mustachioed bald man turned ring leader and your Sunday night should be one to remember. With This Way to Egress, $8, 7 p.m., North Star Bar, 2639 Poplar St., 215-684-0808.
Lee Jones is a serious fellow when he wants to be. The DJ/promoter behind the successful house music Sundae party has some strict rules about this Sunday’s benefit for Haitian relief at Silk City, where 100 percent of the money goes directly to the American Red Cross: No guest list and no coming early before security gets in.
“Come to the Sundae party this week and text Haiti to 90999,” says Jones. “You must do this in front of a member of the Silk City or Sundae staff to keep it simple and transparent. Sorry our party, our rules.”
Then there’s the fact that after months of talking and over a week of 17-hour days prepping this platform, Jones can claim (maybe, he jokes) to be the first party on the planet to have their own iPhone app (don’t worry tech heads, he’s working on the Droid one next). But you already knew that, ’cause I told you in this week’s Icepack.
Staff Blog
We like American Idol. 
