Marah at Thunderbird Cafe
Thunderbird Cafe - June 18, 2011

What was Marah’s state homecoming party was just that despite the multiple attempts of a first-night sound tech at the Thunderbird Cafe to thwart the celebration.

Blasting out of the gates, with the theme from “Rocky,” Marah would showcase its varied history, mostly pulling from its last couple of albums, but also pulling out gems like “Walt Whitman’s Bridge” and “Body.” Not to mention, the rare Christine Smith rap and a threat of busting out a second polka on the night.

All the while, the sound tech provided screeching feedback on the vocals, dropping the volume on everything from the vocals to guitar and keyboard.

A little slack may be given to the sound tech, but considering the devotion of Marah fans, the cost of tickets, and Marah’ reputation for putting on a high energy, all-out show, it was not a wise move to test a new sound guy out on this particular night.

Despite the sound issues, Marah soldiered on, doing their best despite what the sound tech threw at them next, playing for two hours to a packed room.

WYEP 14th Annual Music Festival w/ Big Hurry, Jukebox the Ghost, Fitz and the Tantrums and Eli “Paperboy Reed”

Schenley Plaza - June 24, 2011

The weather may have been throwing its own tantrum with bouts of light to heavy rain, but it was did nothing to dampen the energy of Fitz and the Tantrums and Jukebox the Ghost. Sandwiched between Big Hurry and Eli “Paperboy” Reed, they provided a one-two punch in the middle of the 14th annual WYEP’s Summer Music Fest.

Fitz and the Tantrums continued to roll through the rain, performing a blistering hour set that raptly held the attention of the crowd. Energetic and constantly engaging the crowd, the band burned through their album “Pickin’ Up the Pieces,” tossing in solid covers of The Raconteurs “Steady as She Goes” and Eurythmics’s “Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This).” Fitz and the Tantrums were the highlight of the festival, and clearly should have been the headliners.

One felt bad for Eli “Paperboy” Reed for having to follow Fitz. Not only did the weather play against Reed, but the crowd shifted to the merchandise booth during his set to get their Fitz and the Tantrums merchandise and to meet with the band, who stuck around until everything was signed and every hand shook.

While Fitz managed to dodge the rain, Jukebox the Ghost played through a couple of quick downpours. Instead of running for shelter, the audience popped umbrellas and continued to enjoy the trio’s set; a testament to the band’s fan base.

With a stage presence that belies their years, the band was engaging and fun, which is missing from some acts today. Pulling songs from their previous two albums, the band also tossed a random cover of Huey Lewis and the News’s “Power of Love” into the mix.

The festival opened with local act Big Hurry; a solid choice, as they set the energy for the rest of the show. In a Pittsburgh music scene where it seems either The Clarks or the Juliana Theory are emulated, Big Hurry are a refreshing change from the norm.

Summer Sounds (Greensburg)

Sister Sparrow & the Dirty Birds
St. Clair Park - June 24, 2011

Sister Sparrow led her Dirty Birds in a soulful, funky set that delivered an enjoyable night to the audience that filled St. Clair Park, despite the threat of inclement weather.

Throughout two hours of performance, Arleigh Kincheloe's powerful voice and her band's music filled the Greensburg night. The energy on stage was palpable, with Kincheloe dancing whether she was leading the band or just listening to them perform.

Rain was a near-constant companion during the second set, with a fine drizzle eventually building to a brief downpour. The majority of the audience kept their position, while some people improved theirs by taking the handful of better seats that had been vacated by the hydro-phobic.

Throughout the night, the Dirty Birds took turns in the spotlight. All showcased their talents, with Jackson Kincheloe delivering an especially powerful harmonica solo.

Sister Sparrow was joined with half of the Dirty Birds on vocals to close the show with a rousing cover of the Rufus classic, "Tell Me Something Good."

Skysaw

at Hard Rock Cafe - June 28, 2011

A great band playing a bad venue is the only way to describe June 28’s Skysaw show at the Pittsburgh Hard Rock Cafe.

The Hard Rock is a tough place to play on the best of nights, and sound problems multiplied when the sound engineer failed to properly calibrate everything, and was also absent from the table for much of the show.

The set opened strong with "Serrated," but sound issues were evident from the start. While Jimmy Chamberlin's drums were clear, the rest of the band faced muddled sound and feedback through "Am I Second" and "Tightrope Situation."

Skysaw delivered with the anthemic "Great Civilizations," using the distortion to the band's advantage, despite the sound tech motioning for them to turn it down. As Chamberlin said after the show, "We'll turn it down when you turn off the videos."

That's right, the Hard Rock kept the omnipresent video screens, including the one on-stage, running during the performance.

From there, Skysaw went into a driving performance of "No One Can Tell" and the only song that the Hard Rock's acoustics couldn't distort, "All I Hear Is Snow."

The highlight of the show was "Cathedral." Chamberlin and Anthony Pirog traded riffs throughout until Chamblerlin let loose with a  solo that brought the audience to their feet with wild cheers encouraged by Mike Reina. Chamberlin is a musician first, and his skill allows him to forsake the theatrics of other drummers. The ease with which he plays most songs allows the audience to underestimate him until he lets loose with a solo of this caliber.

While it would be great to see Skysaw play Pittsburgh again, hopefully they will land a venue more appropriate for their talent and sound.

Chatham County Line

at Club Cafe - July 8, 2011

Want proof that this is not a just world in which we live?

See a Chatham County Line (CCL) concert and then try and let your mind wrap around how a band like Mumford & Sons is playing larger venues and alongside The Avett Brothers (a group deserving of the crowds they have earned through years of brilliant shows) at the Grammys.

Mumford & Sons: a London-based band that is playing Americana for well less than half the life of CCL.

With 12 years and thousands of shows behind them, CCL has its devoted fans, but is much more deserving of the accolades than the flash-in-the-pan Mumford.

Seeing that people, like lemmings, can still be easily led to whatever is deemed the next-big thing (or, “I want to appear hip, cool and credible when talking about my musical tastes”), it was reaffirming to see a nearly full house at Club Cafe for CCL.

The large turnout was all the more heartening for Club Cafe booked CLL as its early show on this Friday evening with the band taking the stage shortly before 8 p.m. The early booking was not lost on CCL’s lead singer/guitarist Dave Wilson who joked, often, about the early start time.

The band launched the show with cuts from its last release “Wildwood,” including the title track and “The Ghost of Woody Guthrie.”

The band’s tight harmonies are something that must be heard live to fully appreciate the timing and pitch-perfect vocal layering that has been developed through years of touring.

Wilson let the crowd remain seated for the first half of the show, but got them on their feet for the rollicking ode to all songs great, “Ringing in my Ears.”

The group traveled through its deep catalog with Wilson providing witty banter while instruments were changed or tuned. Even at one point, using a harmonica as a cell phone to make it look like he was taking a call on stage—a pointed commentary lost on the cell phone users in the crowd.

Wilson drove home the point further before covering the John Hartford classic, “Tear Down the Grand Ole Opry,” suggesting that if people never heard the song, they could probably have it in minutes seeing how well versed some were with their phones.

At the end of their set, the band did something more bands should do, but don’t or, maybe better yet, can’t; they took requests.

Not only did they take requests, they played all the ones shouted out, even though Wilson joked about maybe flubbing through one. They didn’t with the highlights being “Country Boy/City Boy” and “Chip of a Star.”

After two encores, the band fighting against the time constraints of the early booking, they closed with a faithful and excellent cover of “Handle With Care,” the Traveling Wilburys classic.

Even with the crowd shouting for one more song, the band was forced off stage after a nearly 90-minute blistering set.

Mumford & Sons should take note.

Side note: Since it seems to have become a reoccurring theme in recent reviews here, the sound quality at Club Cafe was, as always, excellent. The club has kept a steady sound engineer that knows the ins and outs of the venue’s acoustics. The Hard Rock Café, a corporate whore disguised as a “real” venue, especially could, and should, learn a thing or two from Club Cafe.

Rasputina

at Mr. Small’s - July 19, 2011

Melora Creager is the Yoko Ono of Steampunk performance art.

My once-and-future fiancee accuses me of being a self-righteous, musical elitist. While she hurls it as an insult, I wear it like a badge of honor.

In doing so, I have wondered where that line was between being a music snob and a dreaded hipster. At the July 19 Rasputina show at Mr. Small’s I saw that line and gave thanks I was on the right side of it.

A hipster is happy to say they were at the Rasputina show.

Us snobs, well, just read on...

Creager is like Ono in many ways, bad and good.

Some will claim Creager is an under-appreciated genius that only her true fans understand. Much like Ono.

Others will claim Creager has sucked dry the musical teat and is lost in a generation her band should move out of both literally and artistically. Much like Ono.

One can’t help think the singular focus Creager has with Rasputina has clouded her vision to what the world looks like around her now.

Rasputina has not jumped the shark. You have to see the shark to jump it. Rasputina has missed the boat entirely with this new generation they have found themselves playing to.

A Mormon from Utah forever, no matter how wrongly, changed the landscape. A landscape where Rasputina once thrived.

In the decades before, Rasputina had a spot. The normal girl/vampire hot couple were Buffy and Angel. The centuries of folklore were tweaked, not Meyers-like raped and destroyed. Rasputina could easily function as a traveling vagabond band that was somehow stranded out of its own 1800s timeline and stuck in ours.

But then came Bella and Edward and where have all the goth or Hot Topic shoppers gone?

Mainstream or Steampunk.

This leaves Rasputina with a creative decision to make about its future.

Their music is an acquired taste. Which is understandable for those of us who have liked Tom Waits or Nick Cave through their entire careers, not when it best suited us, like a fair-weather Tom Waits fan I knew who nearly walked out of a more recent Waits show because he didn’t play the old stuff.

I also get the showmanship aspect of what Rasputina is going for, much like Waits created on “Alice” and “Blood Money.”

But where Waits keeps a character running, Creager breaks her Victorian accent to make juvenile jokes, the latest being how the song, “Holocaust of Giants” wasn’t about dinosaur bones as she had read on the internet. No, it was about her boobs.

These classically trained artists want to be taken seriously for their musicianship, yet dropping a line that would make Diamond Dave cringe into the middle of their set, make it seem more like a joke than a band wanting to be respected.

The band does have a distinct sound. But sometimes, not often, but sometimes, the songs bled into each other.

The biggest applause, and what got the two frat guys near me to stop talking, was for a cover.

A cover a beginner on guitar is often given to practice. By a band, to borrow a phrase, that is so overrated it is bordering on the sublime. Rasputina’s cover of Pink Floyd’s “Wish You Were Here” was a highlight of the night, at least for the frat guys. After hearing that song ad nausem, it took until Creager started singing for me to finally realize what they were attempting.

Speaking of attempting, no mention need be made of the botched attempt to incorporate a banjo into the act. The banjo almost looked embarrassed for being misused.

But that is what is great about music, to each their own.

It comes with a hitch though, as demonstrated here, a groundwork was laid out for why the show did nothing for this reviewer.

I would like to hear from someone how indeed the show worked for them.

Creager gave the best review of the show in a toss-off comment meant mainly for the heat, but more fitting for the set, “a hot mess.”

Johnny Angel & The Halos

at Fort Armstrong Folk Festival- August 7, 2011

Every WWE event has its own personality and appeal. Pay-Per-Views have the most extravagant matches, culminating in the most title changes. Weekly taped shows are where storylines are created and feature plenty of surprises. House shows are where these athletes show what they do best: wrestle.

Without the concerns of allotting time for commercials, pushing storylines or pimping the upcoming PPV, the WWE Superstars are allowed to deliver matches that last as long as they need to, not as long as they are scheduled.

The Smackdown World Tour show at the Consol Energy Center on July 23 was an entertaining night from the 12-man battle royal that started the night through the main event match between Randy Orton and World Champion Christian.

Following the battle royal and satisfying matches featuring Natalya and AJ defeating Melina and Tamina, and Jinder Mahal dominating Tyson Kidd, the crowd was treated to an exceptional match-up between Wade Barrett and Sheamus. After Barrett attacked Kidd and talked himself up, he challenged Sheamus. The two big men presented a match that showcased not only their strength, but their technical skill. Sheamus ultimately pinned Barrett, and the performances promised that this should be a great ongoing feud.

In a preview of their Raw match to determine the new WWE Champion, The Miz faced off against Rey Mysterio. The Miz hit the ring first, with the Cleveland native working the crowd into a frenzy talking up his hometown, tearing down the Steelers and playing with and mocking the crowd; borrowing heavily from (and properly executing) Roddy Piper’s playbook.

Early in the match Myterio beat The Miz in the corner before delivering a  baseball slide into The Miz’s crotch. Later, The Miz gave Mysterio a slide his own, chucking the masked wrestler out of the ring, Myterio’s pleather pants accelerating him outside for a face-first impact.

Mysterio ultimately triumphed following a 619 and diving head butt. While this was a definitive win for Mysterio, knowing wrestling logic it likely portends The Miz being crowned WWE Champ on Raw.

The main event featured Bret Hart as a “Special Outside Enforcer.” What this amounted to was Hart coming out in a Sidney Crosby throwback jersey, delivering a short promo and sitting ringside for most of the match until Christian tried using a chair on Orton.

Much as The Miz had insulted the Steelers, Christian built heat by insulting fellow Canadian champions Hart and Edge before insinuating that Pens captain Crosby had faked his injury last season.

The match was a strong endeavor from two seasoned performers, with both utilizing their catalog of moves in efforts to defeat each other. Orton won via disqualification after Christian slapped the ref, ensuring that he help onto his title. Post-match, a disgusted Orton proceeded to hit Christian with chairs and a Singapore Cane, and landed an RKO to thunderous applause.

WWE Smackdown World Tour

at Consol Engery Center - July 23, 2011

To love something or somebody, one has to appreciate all the different, nuanced aspects of that said object of affection. To love everything about that something special is a unifying factor. Music can and is such a force.

Even those born after the Ewoks somehow over threw the Empire, could and should enjoy seeing a Johnny Angel and the Halos live show.

Mixing pop classics, that stations like 3WS used to play, from the 50s to the 70s, the group provides not only history with these tunes, but do so with a style and finesse. It doesn’t hurt that they are damn fine musicians either, who have been performing for forty-some years.

From Grand Funk Railroad’s “Some Kind Of Wonderful” to The O’Jays’ “Love Train,” the Halo show the staying power of the perfect pop song. A commodity that is dropping faster that the United States’ credit rating.

It is hard to envision any band 40 years from now covering the so-called gems of pop radio, like Bruno Mars and Katy Perry.

Johnny Angel and the Halos are a class act and it is an experience anyone that calls themselves a fan of music should experience.

Let’s cut the crap and hook up later on tonight.

There is not a more apt way to describe Marah at Club Cafe, Sept. 2.

How anyone that calls themselves a big fan or cites Marah as their favorite band, could miss the show the reunited Bielanko Brothers unleashed on Pittsburgh last night is an unforgivable sin, and they should be cast to the musical hell of muzak versions of Barry Manilow and Jimmy Buffett songs.

No words here will do the show justice. This writer has seen well over a hundred shows in his life and this Marah performance ranks easy in the top three of that laundry list that includes R.E.M., Bob Dylan and Tori Amos.

Dave, Serge and Christine Smith played a two-hour set of Marah’s catalog. Serge’s “Dishwasher’s Dream,” The Apartment” and “Pizzeria” were crowd favorites.

The most poignant moment of an exuberant night was Dave and Serge breaking out the seldom played “Leaving.” It was a near-perfect moment.

It was easy to see the joy both had back on stage together after three years apart.

And let’s not overlook Christine Smith, who not only can play the hell out of the keyboards, but rock the f**k out of the drums too.

It was all it was meant to be and those in attendance will take that show with them and should use it as the high-water mark of what a concert can be, should be and what Marah did.

(For more pictures from the show click here)

Well whadda ya know: the Wicked Witch of the West wasn’t nearly as wicked as Dorothy led us to believe. And we find that Glinda the Good—“the ‘gah’ is silent”—has a human side underneath the pink fluff.

Despite being major characters in the Wizard of Oz, very little is known about Elphaba and Glinda, except that they move the plot along.  In “Wicked,” however, they are given a chance to tell their side of the story, show what makes them tick. Elphaba, aka The Wicked Witch of the West, is not a two-dimensional bad guy, nor is Glinda a two-dimensional good guy.  

It takes major cojones to mess around with a classic, and I respect Winnie Holzman (who adapted Gregory Maguire’s novel of the same name) for her fresh take on the Wizard of Oz. Not only is it funny, but her angle on the story makes you think, and is applicable to today’s society; the world isn’t as black and white as you were led to believe. It’s a coming of age tale that weaves familiar themes of bigotry, unlikely friendships, and the power of friendships to change people.  

The acting, singing, set design and costumes of Wicked were all amazing. The flying monkeys were one of my favorite parts of the cast. They may be creepy, but the transformation from normal monkey to flying monkey was a favorite scene. Also, “flying” around the stage has got to be nerve-wracking, so they get major props for that. I appreciated how the Tin Man, Scarecrow and Cowardly Lion were written into the plot, with their back-stories fleshed out a little more. I burst out laughing at the citizens of Oz because, intentional or not, their outfits and goofy sunglasses paid tribute to the Transylvanian transvestites of the Rocky Horror Picture Show.

Despite all this, I’m sorry to say that this critically acclaimed musical left me feeling kind of “meh.”

Like Glinda, the performance has its bad parts, too. The biggest sin “Wicked” commits is its music. Every single song is forgettable.

It doesn’t take a whole lot to get a song stuck in my head, but I wasn’t even humming when I left the Benedum that night, which is unlike me. If I had to choose, “Defying Gravity” was the catchiest song, and even that wasn’t all that impressive. It’s very odd for a musical to not to have a strong musical score. Of course, this was no fault of the singers, whose strength and talent belied the vapid songwriting.

I noticed too that at times the orchestra swallowed the singers’ voices. It was more noticeable when more than two cast members were singing at the same time. It was hard to tell if it was a technical difficulty or the fault of the cast themselves or even where I was sitting, but certain songs suffered because the singers were impossible to understand. I couldn’t make out the words even after hearing the song a few seconds before, that’s how bad it was. I’ve seen several shows at the Benedum over the years, and know that this had plagued other performances.

I haven’t read the Maguire books, but from what I’ve read online, I noticed that they toned down certain parts of the story line to make it more kid-friendly. I’m not entirely sure if this was a good move as I was expecting a wickeder storyline with sarcasm and wit. Personally I found the story predictable, and the principle romance wholly unbelievable because of lack of development. Some parts were too saccharine-sweet for my liking; Glinda was obnoxiously cute (think Elle from Legally Blonde), and Elphaba seemed too forgiving at times. Also, the attempt to link this story with the one featured in the 1939 film by writing the Tin Man, Scarecrow and Cowardly Lion into the plot felt forced and awkward.

The storyline isn’t terrible, but it’s not the stuff of legends either. I do want to read the “Wicked” series just to see what the musical is missing (which I’ve heard is a lot). It’s unfortunate that some funny bits had to be written out of the story in order to keep the show PG-rated. I'd rather see a well created but offensive production than the appropriately politically correctness that littered this musical. I did, however, enjoy the ending. (Hint: The witch ain’t dead.)

If given the chance, would I see this again? No, I would not. The show is visibly appealing, the actors and actresses are truly talented, and I had a good time, but I wasn’t moved by what I saw and heard. At the very least, I wish the show gave me a tune to carry home.

Wicked runs from Sept 7 through  October 2 at the Benedum Center. For information check: http://www.pgharts.org/events/eventDetails.aspx?id=13398

This is a review of the fantastic Lowry performance at Cub Cafe, but first, a public-service must be performed.

Indulge a Bob Ross-moment, please, to paint this picture. Unlike the upbeat, always-looking-at-the-sunny-side-of-life Ross, this picture is one of nearly unspeakable horror and sounds so dumbfoundingly terrible, these words on your screen can’t do it justice.

Paint a Justin Bieber-clone fumbling with a guitar and keyboard, next to him is what passed as the lead singer, dressed in his hipster navy peacoat and Ray-Ban...sunglass at night (no irony, as that word would be lost), who could have easily been the love-child of Jason Mewes and Rob Thomas. On second guitar was a Vincent D’Onofrio look-like and what could have been Harry Knowles' twin on drums.

Now take those actors, and whatever Knowles passes for, and imagine them on stage for the first time trying to play music. Time, rhythm and melody were ghosts in the room the band was trying to catch, but they crossed the streams. And bad, bad thing happen, we were warned, if the streams were ever crossed.

I would not inflict The Velcro Shoes on my worst enemy. Then again, fearing she is a creation of pure evil, she may have created this band for the sheer torment of others. Or as music to be played at blaring levels to keep people off the Peacock land.

Trying for a Citizen Dick-like way to compliment the band, too, is impossible. Let’s let New Oxford dictionary write this review: Extremely and shockingly or distressingly bad.

Why? Why, put this swill in front of an extremely talented national-touring band like Lowry?

Lowry deserved an opening act at least somewhat befitting them as they played the late show at Club Cafe.

And what a show Lowry had, performing mostly from a setlist of their upcoming release “Emporia,” the band brought the goods to their first show stateside in over two years.

While “Emporia” is a lush album full of little nuances that would require a stage bigger than Club Cafe to accommodate the seven musicians that created it, the pared down Lowry (four members) found a way to achieve that same sound without notice. Which is an incredible task in its own right, and compliment to the talent of the musicians on that stage.

And they were having fun, which is what it is all about. During time for tuning guitars, Crash, on drums, would bust out a character he had created and was working on at practices. It was funny as it was like a winded Andy Samberg-impersonating Mark Wahlberg pushing the band's merch.

The band easily shifted gears between slower, dreamy songs like “Full On Empty” and the hard-driving closer “Pilot.”

It was disgusting that they had to follow such a sludge heap of noise, that saw people leave the venue.

But those of who were there to see Lowry endured and were treated to an incredible feat of four musicians working ways to recreate songs live that sounded as they did in the studio.

For anyone with an interest in seeing Lowry on this tour, go. Do it without reservation. You will not only enjoy it, but walk away with a better appreciation for the musicianship that Alex Lowry has assembled on stage.

It is said that life works on a balance, when something bad strikes, something good will happen and there was no better evidence of that at Club Cafe.

Doing something I have never done before in a review (and something journalism profs would frown upon; to the those profs I say, “Good day”), I would like to thank Lowry for saving the night with a great set.

So, thank you.

And to my arch-nemesis, Ma Peacock, head back to the planning table to rework your evil juju as the forces of good won this battle and will win....unless Dick Cheney is your partner in crime, then we are all fucked.

How one can not like Jenny Owen Youngs is nearly impossible.

While tuning her guitar at her performance at the Brillobox, Youngs made a comment about all the moisture, close bodies and dampness affecting her guitar.

(Yes, to the non-musicians out there, humidity can wreak havoc on guitar strings, making keeping them in tune a chore.)

When someone up front made the obvious lewd comment, Youngs, in stride, dismissed the comment with a quick, witty reply, “It’s fucking biology, look it up.”

She is as frank, candid and to-the-point as you want and that is why it makes it impossible not to like and respect that honesty in her as a person and as a musician.

While Youngs’ albums are mostly acoustic fare, last night she pulled what we at Swerve have deemed a ‘Dave Bielanko’ and cranked the sound up trading the acoustic for the electric guitar and rocking out.

Sure, she included slow songs, like “Fuck was I.”

But normally subdued songs like “Voice on Tape” got a revamp into a much louder, grungy version, which worked beautifully against the sweet, warm tones of Youngs voice.

And the bill was built to Youngs.

Opening act Sam Bradley played solo with only an acoustic guitar and had the crowd revved up with a story of dating an older woman to a new song about what frauds hippies (and hipsters) really are despite their slanted view of themselves.

Totally changing the pacing of the show was Hank & Cupcakes, best described as The White Stripes meets The Kills.

With a bass and drums, the duo had the large crowd, especially for a Sunday night, dancing and hopping about. It was the group's first time in Pittsburgh and from the fan response and the number of their EPs sold, it doesn’t look like it will be their first-and-only trip here.

It is what a bill should be: a nice mix of the headliner; some of this, some of that and all leading up to Jenny Owen Youngs, who closed the night with a preview of a song from her upcoming album due out early next year.

Following the George Costanzo guide to showmanship, Youngs went out on a high note, leaving the crowd wanting more, yet knowing that 2012 is not that far away for getting new material and possibilities of another tour and another night with Youngs.

Pittsburgh was a city torn between its past and its future last night.

The battle was waged between our city’s love for the glory days of yesteryear and its fear of moving into the future.

Sure, I would have liked to see the Foo Fighters who played the Consol Energy Center last night on the eve of the 20th anniversary of Nirvana’s “Nevermind” release date.

But with all the corporate hullabaloo over the anniversary, it felt wrong to watch half of Nirvana on stage. I love Dave Grohl and do not blame him for moving on. But the last thing in the world that Kurt Cobain would have wanted would have been all the media hype and iconic-dead-rock star status that has been given to him, compliments of the ignorant fools in the media and his press-whore wife.

So, it was nice to see a sizable crowd at Mr. Small’s for Mates of State; an established act that is constantly evolving, like all things must, to survive into the future.

With just their keyboards and drums driven sound, The Mates are not for everyone. Nor would they play to the audience of the classic rock status granted to the Foo Fighters via Grohl’s involvement—another accolade bestowed on Cobain he fought against.

But the Mates did put on a amped-up 90-minute set that had people dancing (for some, it was more like doing the full-body-drive-hive dance of Elaine).

Sure, the Mates blasted through fan favorites, but the songs that stuck out were the ones off their latest release, “Mountaintops.”

“Maracas,” “Basement Money” (a Swerve favorite), “At Least I Have You,” and the show closer “Palomino,” were meant to be heard live.

Opening acts Yawn and Suckers were similar in style to the Mates, but different enough to stand alone. Suckers were the more memorable with the multi-instruments and the knack of soundly different with infectious hooks...and whistling; an art that is lost in music.

It was a solid alternative to the masses gathered at the Consol. It felt appropriate to see new music with Yawn, Suckers and the under-appreciated Mates, than lament the past.

Things I learned while driving to see Minus The Bear’s October 14 show at Mr. Smalls (a venue which I hadn’t been to in a couple years, and never before gone solo):

1. Sites like Google Maps and Mapquest should have a ‘night-time’ option so that they will give you the ¼ mile longer directions that don’t require you to spot a street sign on a road with no street lamps.

2. If you approach a sloped road divider at the proper angle and speed in a Chevrolet Monte Carlo, you can successfully drive with your left tires on the road and right ones on the barrier. (DO NOT try this yourself. Just trust me.)

As for the actual show, Holy Mother of God does Minus The Bear put on an amazing performance!

Entering to the Golden Girls theme, the band gave it their all for 90 minutes of high energy showmanship that utterly enthralled the sold-out crowd.  

The stage featured occasionally strobing searchlights, flashing LEDs and enough fog to disguise a clan of vampires, all of which added grandeur to the incredibly precise musicianship and fed into the fun vibe of the featured songs.

As part of the band’s 10th Anniversary Tour, Minus The Bear plays their entire debut album “Highly Refined Pirates” start-to-finish as the bulk of each show. There is always a concern that high-concept shows like these may work better as ethereal inspiration than the hard reality of execution, but there is no doubt these guys are enjoying the hell out of playing the classic tracks. And the crowd enjoyed the hell out of hearing them, as they nodded and hopped and clapped and sang and swayed along for the entire show.

The capacity crowd exploded with cheers as the band moved through the debut album and hit favorites like “Absinthe Party At The Fly Honey Warehouse” and “I Lost All My Money At The Cock Fights.”

The band closed their first set joined onstage by The Velvet Teen “Let’s Play Guitar In A Five Guitar Band/Booyah Achieved.”  MTB then returned for a second set (“encore” simply doesn’t do justice to the quality and quantity of songs played after the break) playing a selection of songs from their other albums including the crowd favorite “Pachuca Sunrise” to close out an excellent evening.

After thinking about it all night, there is no way to write a review of the Butch Walker and the Black Widows show at Club AE last night.

It was one of those show you hear people talk about and wish you had been there to experience the magic, the energy and the spectacle of it all.

From an early acoustic set of  Marvelous 3 songs of which the first three the crowd sang the entire lyrics. The set included “Grant Park,” so you can see how far back and

eclectic the set list was from the start. 

Then the band took the stage for nearly two hours and that is where this review stops. They played the new albums, some of the last and a few tossed in from “Letters.”

Including a awe-inspiring renedition of “Best Thing That You Never Had,” which had Butch break nearly early string on the guitar.

Closing with “Suckerpunch,” Butch walked through the crowd hopped up on the bar, ordered a shot and raised a toast to the city and the show. He is the last great frontman.

I have seen the man 11 times over seven years, traveling to Cleveland for three of those shows and last night’s show put them all to shame and that is saying something.

Let the pictures tell the story...

Some find it hard to deal with a girlfriend for a couple years.

You got domineering mothers, elitist potential in-laws and hypocritical friends that have to be dealt with.

Thank god, none of that baggage comes with “Girlfriend.”

Matthew Sweet created the perfect “Girlfriend” in an album that is timeless, fun, endearing and lovingly made with the intentions of what matters: The music and no bullshit.

To celebrate the album and song that exploded and launched Sweet on to the mainstream’s radar 20 years ago, he is touring the album in its entirety, from “Divine Intervention” straight through the bonus tracks to “Teenage Female.”

Never a fan of the concept of playing an album straight through, Sweet won me over with his performance at Mr. Small’s.

Knowing what songs were coming, seemed to take the fun out of the anticipation of ‘what comes next?’ But, with that thought out of mind, one could actually just sit back and enjoy the music.

20 years on, Sweet has lost nothing. “Girlfriend” sounds as fresh today as it did all those years ago. His voice was in Sweet form, the band dead-on with songs that Sweet admitted he had never played live before.

This was not an ode to what was “Girlfriend,” Sweet rocked the album, playing electric when a song was acoustic and it all worked.

And how do you know it worked and the real fans were at the show? “Girlfriend” as an album is front-loaded. The single, itself, is the third track on the album. A fact Sweet playfully acknowledge as he thanked the crowd for coming and said that was the show’s end, before quickly acknowledging he was about to launch into the deeper tracks.

The deeper tracks like “Evangeline” and “I Wanted to Tell You” got as much, if not more applause, than “Girlfriend” proper.

He threw in a knock-you-on-your-ass “Sick of Myself” and the new “She Walks the Night.”

Sweet closed with “We’re the Same,” from “100% Fun.”

It was an apt closer, with its lyrics being as reflective of Sweet as his loyal fans.

Tales are told of seeing Nirvana playing Graffati's back in 1991. Some saw Jeff Buckley open for Juliana Hatfield on the very tour that would claim his life. The latest was The Avett Brothers' show at the Carnegie Music Hall in Homestead in 2009.

Pittsburgh has had its moments that dance with rock greatness-in-the-making.

For those in attendance at the sold-out Mr. Small's last night, they were witness to yet another of those rare moments as Fitz & The Tantrums went from the little band that could to the big band that did.

It is a sight to behold, one that is almost surreal. Or maybe transcendental is a better description, as for the 90 minutes that Fitz & The Tantrums played, Mr. Small's existed on another plane of being.

The band stormed the stage and the energy level never dropped.

Blasting through "Picking Up The Pieces," a few new tunes and two covers, the band left a sweaty mess of humanity in its wake.

How good were Fitz and company last night?

Jack White and Brendan Benson are each creative geniuses in their own unique ways. Combined as The Raconteurs, they were untouchable.

Last night, Fitz and The Tantrums took The Raconteurs' "Steady as She Goes" and made it their own. A heady feat to say the least.

Adding a dirty swagger, the Tantrums jazzed up the song and now own it lock, stock and barrel. Much the same way that Oasis gave "Wonderwall" to Ryan Adams after he out-mastered their vision of the song.

The crowd was chanting "Fitzburgh" early on. Always the humble band, Fitz and co-singer Noelle Scaggs deferred the title until they felt that they were deserving of the fabled variation of Blitzburgh.

By the end of the night, they earned the title and more.

What fans were witness to last night was one of those storied moments in rock music where a band is on a tour that will make them well-known in the music world.

Pittsburgh better get ready to move Fitzburgh to a bigger venue for the band's next visit as what was witnessed last night was a star going supernova.

The Features. You must see The Features live. Have to, without question. If they are playing near you, go!

Their new LP “Wilderness” comes the closest to capture the energy and feel of their stage presence, but it still pales in comparison.

Songs like, “Another One, Big Momma Gonna Whip us Good” and “Kids” which rock on the album are taken to another level live.

This is a band that is ready to jump to the next level. Their fan base is in place as evident by the many sing-a-longs last night.  A few more solo tours and big things are on the horizon for The Features and deservedly so. If you can take a great LP and make it better live, they deserve bigger venues and a larger fan base.

Post script...

“Once again when a shirtless Cliff Poncier starts to sing... you know what you are in for.

...One wishes he would move... to a town where he could disappear into the masses and not stand out like the relentlessly mediocre talent that he is. Mediocre is probably a rather kind.”

The quote taken from the 1992 Cameron Crowe movie “singles” involved a talent band with a mediocre at best singer. It very apt description (minus the shirtless part) of Legs Like Tree Trunks, one of the opening acts for The Features.

Reading the Pitt News review of the band’s EP was a mystify experience. Math rock doesn’t apply to a band that is a best playing a variation of scales subbing for guitar work. This is no calculation in that.

Steve Job, you sir are a god, but you also unleashed GarageBand onto the masses. Now everyone thinks they can be in a band.

It is being kind not to mention the out-of-tune warbling of Trees lead singer, further proof that GarageBand, Pro-Tools or whatever was used in making their EP.

Why, oh, why can’t Pittsburgh produce talented bands. Yes, there are The Clarks. Big Hurry are poised for great things, but much like a douche bag professor once told me, “Just because you can, doesn’t me you should.” I never thought I would live to quote him and mean it as advice Legs Like Tree Trunks.

The discussion while Legs were performing is that Pittsburgh should really, really consider opting to adopt local Marah as a part of Pittsburgh’s rock lore. As they are close by (location wise) and overflowing with talent.

Dar Williams is a performer's performer.

Sure, people come for the songs they know and love, but they also come for more.

They know that Williams will provide an intimate concert experience, even to a sold-out show at the Rex Theater, and witty stories and interaction with her audience that makes it a communal experience instead of a concert.

From stories of how she connected to an 11-year old over Greek mythology to being privy to sisterhood in action over the procurement of strings for a guitar at a festival, Williams is as masterful a storyteller as she is a singer/songwriter.

With a voice in perfect form, she debuted a few songs from her upcoming April new release, but went into her back catalog and definitely satisfied the entire crowd by pulling out gems like “Are You Out There,” "What Do You Hear in These Sounds,” and “The Babysitter’s Here.”

One could not have asked for more.

Sunday night, is not a concert night.

Proving the exception to the rule and, also, that good music will draw people out, Jukebox the Ghost played to a near-capacity crowd last night at the Brillobox.

Mentally compiling a top-five list of concerts I’ve seen this year in my head for the year-end list, I didn’t have five. I was stuck with four and then last night, I got the early Christmas present in the form of Jukebox the Ghost.

The band put on a tremendous, nearly an hour and 45 minute, show the ensnared the audience of die-hard fans showcased what a tight group Jukebox is musically.

Playing off their first two LPs the band was pitch perfect and only added to the recorded versions. The highlight was an ass-kicking version of “The Stars.”

It was the sneak peek at the band’s new material that proved the most interesting and exciting. The two-song preview “Someone” and “Tell Me When” foreshadow an album that could push the band from venues like the Brillobox to bigger ones like Mr. Smalls.  

The other thing about Jukebox: It is a fun show. The group easily interacting back and forth with the audience. And what other show will you hear a band cover Whitney Houston and Rick Astley back-to-back?

The Deleted Scenes opened the show well with a fine set. The band though needs a heathy boost of self-esteem. Discounting their set through their set, the band is talented and even an unforgiving audience should not weigh on the mind as talent carried them this far into a career.

The Spinto Band, having been around a relatively long-time, had the most awkward stage banter. Forced “Star Wars” references and a near creepy shout out to Jukebox, took away from the obviously Kinks-inspired music.

And in hindsight the ease of the banter on stage by Jukebox only shown the spotlight on the awkwardness of the Spinto Band.

It was a good way to close out the year with a top-five concert and gives much to look forward to in the new year as Jukebox the Ghost’s new release looks to be interesting and give the band the push into bigger waters.

The Deleted Scenes

Who said that Marah is whoever Dave Bielanko pulls on stage with him is delusional at best and completely ill-informed at worst as without the one-woman-band that is Christine Smith, Marah would lose its percussion, keyboards and accordion sections.

Name one band that has the keyboard player switch to drums mid-song, start now!

Didn’t think so.

Dave is the spark, or battery if you will, of the band. Whether playing in front one person or 10,000, he never flicks the switch down from 11.

If you missed night one of Marah’s Christmas two-night stand forget the Christmas shopping (Give the gift of quality a Marah shirt, mug or poster), and get your ass to the Kollar Club tonight for part two.

Give your self a present early and get to the Kollar Club tonight 8 p.m. You can thank us later.

Each generation has its own undervalued, under-appreciated creative genius that, whether purposely or not, courts, but never consummates their relationship with the masses.

The 70s had Townes Van Zandt. The 80s had Paul Westerberg and The Replacements. We today have Dave Bielanko and Marah.

It was after seeing back-to-back performances of Bielanko with Christine Smith and Mark Sosnoskie at the Kollar Club that this realization fermented. Bielanko is this generation’s musician/singer/songwriter that goes all out leaving nothing but his heart on the stage each and every night, no matter if it is for a crowd of 15 or one of 15,000.

It is one thing to see U2 or No Doubt at a stadium/arena show and be exhilarated by the experience. But it comes with a catch, which is it is a disposable moment. One that you talk about for a week or two and then is forgotten in your mundane routine.

Then there is seeing Marah. For true music lovers, one cannot, does not nor will forget the experience of a room of strangers uniting via the power of a group’s music.

How could you forget two outstanding nights of music in a filled, small venue with a band giving more than they were taking. That is a moment a true fan of music will take with them for life and we will talk about it to any and everyone that will listen to us. Hoping to give them the chance we had to see something special that was real and meant something.

I can delve into setlist and the fact that the band played for close to three hours each night, but that is not the point. The point is we fans of Bielanko, Smith and Sosnoskie appreciate what the band did, and are more than grateful to have been part of something so unique in this world today: Something that mattered.

We joke about the ‘Lester Bangs rules’ of music as laid out by Cameron Crowe (whose real-life mentor was Bangs) in “Almost Famous; 1.You don’t make friends with the rock stars. 2. They want you to write sanctimonious piece about the genius of rock stars and etc.

But there is a truth within those faux guidelines that must be adhered to: You have to be honest and unmerciful as honesty is the only true currency in this bankrupt world.

Add to that, there are true music lovers in this world. Not bandwagon jumpers, not hipsters looking to retrograde their own coolness, and not the fickle fans, but true lovers of music and the musicians that let them connect their life moments to songs. It can be, and is, a very powerful bond.

After leaving The Lemonheads “It’s A Shame About Ray” 20th anniversary show, I contemplated not writing this review.

The show quickly spiraled out of the realm of a fun time with good old tunes into watching a man fight his own inner demons to give a group of rambunctious, drunken (some to the point of being barely able to stand) crowd what they wanted or felt entitled to hear.

It was the first time in all my years of leaving a show that I actually was depressed. To me, at least, Evan Dando found some part of himself in the late Gram Parsons and like Parsons, Dando seems destined for that same ending.

I got home, checked Twitter to see what others thought of the show. After sifting through some keen observation by a few fans, I stumbled across a couple of, I’m not naming names as to each his own, but a couple reputable people and their tweets from the show jokingly thankful that Dando, who opened with an acoustic set, didn’t keep playing solo as it was not good, while the other person thought about bolting.

Then another tweet about Dando shaking off the rocky start and playing the guitar parts clean while the vocals were flat.

Jesus, man, I understand going for an angle, but the angle here was not the music.

Dando did start off shaking on the acoustic, but the man looked like a frail version of Mick Mars on stage at first. Not cracking a smile, ashen in complex, his vocals were flat because he was mouth was pressed firmly against the mic. I know; I was two people back from him in the crowd.

He did seem to spring to life when the band came on stage, but that faded in and out. And the clean guitar work, it was there, but only in spurts.

It was a man working on instinct that got him through those songs.

The music itself was fine, and a causal fan would have left Club AE feeling they got their money’s worth. But those with a little insight into Dando’s world, could not have left that show with a song in their heart and a zip in their step.

At two points during the show, an eerie feeling crept up on me. The first was my “Drug Buddy” and the second, which was even more haunting, was during his cover of “Baltimore.”

I saw Ryan Adam drunk off his ass attempt to play Mr. Small’s back in 2005. Drunk enough he couldn’t remember where he sat his eyeglasses. He knew the show was going into the tank, so he was too. It was a bad crowd, a bad audio setup and while not the most professional of results, one could not fault the man for why he threw in the towel with the show.

I saw him again three years later, sober, at the Carnegie Oakland and he put on one of the top-five shows I have seen.

This wasn’t about a bad crowd, although there were a few rowdy drunks screaming the equivalent of “Freebird” to Dando in the form of “Luka.”

Bless him, he tried to play it after shaking it off numerous times. At least Adams would have told the guy to go back to his burger-flipping job.

Dando didn’t seem to have that energy. Which confirmed that this wasn’t an attempt at going back to the punk roots of The Lemonheads version of a show. It was something else altogether.

The only moment of enjoyment that did put a smile on Dando’s face was when he knelt down and had a girl in the front of the stage play the neck of his guitar while he worked some notes in among feedback.

This is not a sanctimonious piece about what lifestyle Dando chooses to lead, it is his life and he is free and with the right to live that life. Nor is it about the dangers of drugs or alcohol, because they both used correctly can open worlds to one’s limited perception. But let’s not try and sell this as it was about the music, it wasn’t.

The crowd wanted the hits, he gave them want they wanted, but I, again speaking only for myself, could not help feel I was watching a man die in little pieces on that stage.

One hopes for a happy end, but like Dando told Swerve in his interview last week, “Sure, my whole life I have felt that rock and roll and drugs should not be separated.”

The rest of the country that is on the schedule for Jenny Owen Youngs’ new album tour is in for a treat.

The new material translates powerfully to the stage. To prove the point and drive it home, Youngs included the multi-layered “Wake Up” near the end of her set. And it fucking rocked.

Kicking the show of with “Pirates” and highlighting the excellent new album throughout, Youngs live show is a must-see.

If not just for her music, but for the ease she presents of banter with the audience and being on stage.

For Tuesday night, it was a damn good turnout. Although why people left after “Fuck Was I” is a bit bewildering, but it’s their loss. Those that stayed got a pumped up version of “Love for Long,” the lead-off track of the new album.

If Youngs is scheduled for your town with this album, clear the date and see the show. She is spot on and so is the material.

Butch Walker, August 2004

Ryan Adams, Oct 2008

The Avett Brothers, June 2009

Nicole Atkins, Oct 2009

Marah, September 2011

Add to that hallowed list: Blind Pilot, Feb 2012.

Great concerts are like those trite romantic notions movies try to portray, but can never accomplish: The sparks and flare of love that ones feels.

I can give you the exact date and time for the shows listed above. It was these shows that one remembers most as they sent that tingle of energy down the back of your neck and made your hair stand on end.

You, the person, connected with not only the emotional content of the music from the stage, but with the venue as a whole.

It is a hokey idea expressed in words, but if you’re ever lucky to experience it, you will not think it such.

You can’t fake the authenticity of a band like the Avetts, Walker or Atkins, nor, now, with Blind Pilot.

They wear their hearts on their sleeves and it is a badge of honor, not a cliche or something to be hidden or ashamed of.

Give people honest art and they will respond in turn.

Those that say music can not be akin to a “religious” experience, to you I say, "Fuck off.”

For 90 minutes last night, Mr. Small’s was a small piece of the world set apart from the sinister machinations of the everyday grind. It was an oasis.

An oasis where people of all classes shared as one a truly amazing show that was illuminated with a genuine honesty you don’t get at many paint-by-numbers concerts.

While Blind Pilot may have started out as a duo playing music, the group has blossomed into a six-piece band with each member playing multiple instruments. In theory with that much instrumentation on stage, it should have been overwhelming, but it was the opposite. Each instrument was used perfectly and sparsely to fit the music.

A great mix of the material from their first LP with killer renditions “Keep You Right,” Half Moon” and “We are the Tide,” highlighted the show.

Not to out do themselves, Blind Pilot and opening act the Barr Brothers performed Grand Ole Opry-style around a single mic for a collaborative would-be closer.

But Blind Pilot upped the ante and came back to play a naked (completely acoustic, no monitors, but with clothes) to a hushed crowd that filled in the chorus in full and faded when needed.

The high-water mark has been set already for 2012 concert year.

A roundup of pictures from Addie Brownlee’s recent tribute show to Dolly Parton at The Living Room in  NYCY. A great show with a full house and a good time was had by all.

A Caravan of Thieves show; you are entering a world apart of the norm, one that is far from the daily grind. A Thieves show can almost transport you to a world where you could easily see Edward Scissorhands as your neighbor and Tim Burton as the mayor. The flakey town kook would be, of course, Johnny Depp in outrageous makeup.

One thing is certain with a Caravan show is one is not like the other. The show you are witnesses/participating in that night is unique to that night. Sure the music stays somewhat the same, but the vaudevillian antics of Fuzz and Carrie Sangiovanni vary from tour stops.

Without a drum set, Caravan’s percussion section consists of a couple of paint buckets turned upside-down and played with old, beaten, paint brushes. Sure it is for show, but if you close your eyes, you would not be able to tell there was not a drum set on the stage.

As the band visited songs old and new (plus a couple clever covers), there is never a lull in the flow of excitement or level of enthusiasm.

All the fun would be fruitless if the band could not pull the music off live. But that is a fleeting thought seconds into the show as the band nails the songs as well as they sound on the CD, plus with addition of any live spontaneous extras they want play with.

The group’s cover of “Bohemian Rhapsody,” showcased their musicianship, especially that of violinist Ben Dean as he almost pulled off a note for note mimicry of Brian May’s fret work on the Queen classic.

Closing out the night with an encore of “Raise the Dead,” Fuzz and Carrie led the band off stage and performed truly acoustic in the middle of Club Cafe with the crowd adding the stomps and clamps required in the song.

You owe it to yourself, even if you consider yourself a casual music fan, to check out a Caravan of Thieves show. It is organic and not something that seems forced to fit a certain constraint, say like a Rasputina.

Even though he looks like a cross between Napoleon Dynamite and Jim Morrison, Luke Pritchard possess the swagger and finger-wagging power of Jagger.

And from the screams of “I love you” from the teenage throngs in the middle of the floor at Mr. Small’s, add in a few screaming moms as well, Pritchard has a commanding presence of the stage that is all but missing in music today.

Pittsburgh shows it does appreciate good music, if it is brought to town, as the sold-out crowd testified to last night.

High energy with just one sectional break for Pritchard to showcase “Seaside” acoustically, The Kooks had the amps turned to 11 as Mr. Small’s walls were vibrating with sound and energy.

Not afraid, unlike some bands, to pull from their back catalog, the group pulled out “Oh La.” She Move in Her Own Way,” and “Naive,” which played better than “Junk of the Heart” winners like “Rosie” and “How’d You Like That.”

But the astonishing aspect of the show was the audience. Those in the middle of the floor and front stage skewed young. Some would have been in junior high, at best, when “Inside In/Inside Out” first hit.

The other question is where do these kids get their music? Pittsburgh’s only station to have The Kooks in constant rotation is WYEP, which skews to an older audience. Maybe it is the power of internet radio and the likes of Pandora which are introducing new bands to the masses.

Which ever way you want to cut it, it is a relief to see the stranglehold of classic rock/WDVE-formatted music is losing some of its grip on the area and Pittsburgh is moving forward into new, worthwhile music.

And within a week where the world lost one English frontman, Davey Jones, it is nice to know there are other, better frontmen, like Pritchard, to rile the crowd up and make the girls scream with just a few wags of his finger -- and that is not meant in a Colbert sense of the term.

But isn’t going to show up.

There is no way without writing a doctoral thesis to sum up perfectly the three-hour lecture/show Rollins gave a sold-out Carnegie Lecture Hall last night. It was engaging to the point no pictures were taken as I became so engrossed in the theme Rollins was riffing on.

It would be like trying to sum up seeming the most beautiful thing in the world into a haiku.

If you got a ticket for the event, you know what I’m talking about. The man hits the stage at a fevered pitch and doesn’t stop and his thirst for knowledge is infectious.

My word can’t do him justice, he is a seeker of truth in a landscape built out of lies. You can get just a taste of what his live performance is like in the Swerve interview.

He should be a mandatory event, one has to see and hear at least once in their lifetime.

Unless thinking, reading and rationally dealing with the world is not your thing,  then I guess you’ll be happy standing in line for the upcoming Nickelback show.

Irony - noun - the use of words to convey a meaning that is the opposite of its literal meaning.

Sarcasm - noun - harsh or bitter derision or... irony.

Parody - noun - a burlesque imitation of a musical composition.

You have to be on a first-name basis with all three definition before you can even attempt to comprehend a concert that is Foxy Shazam.

First there was Kiss, an ode to the excess of Rock and Roll. An ode to the excess of Rock that grew into a parody of itself, sadly without the irony or a bit of sarcastic commentary to accompany it.

Whoring themselves out, Kiss jumped off the artistic roll call about the time their Marvel comic came out, complete with ink made with Kiss’s blood.

Kiss have been knocking on the doors of the palace of excess for decade, yet somehow, either out of some inability of reason or maybe it is just pure greed, they can’t get in to see the wisdom that is supposedly behind those doors.

Now, they don’t have to; thanks to the dumbing down of America. Kiss is not working on that same curve with the audience missing the point of excessive as parody. No, today Kiss is a trip down memory lane and believed to be something they were not. Spinal Tap had more merit than Kiss and they were fictional.

I loved Kiss until I was nine-years old. Then the schtick wore thin. Once you realized the blood was chicken blood and the whole performance, not all but a cash grab, it all became sad and pathetic.

David Bowie, Queen, Motley Crue, and even later on in the Marvelous 3 and The Darkness worked various angles of performance/Glam Rock. Bowie jumped the shark with it on his duet with Bing Crosby. Queen gave it up to become the world’s best band of the 70s and 80s (although the in-drag video of “I Want to Break Free” killed their appeal in the states). Motley Crue followed Kiss through troughs of excess. The Marvelous 3 were in on the joke, via spending time up close with the experience in Southgang. Butch Walker knew the Marvie 3 flew in the face of what was popular at the time and ironically led the group to a grand Arena-Rock album in “ReadySexGo!”

The Darkness seemed to know the joke, yet got caught when the audience didn’t.

It was those thoughts that played out in my head as I stood between the bar and the front row, standing exactly in the middle of Mr. Small’s. Do the tweens and teens in the front understand that Foxy Shazam, while easily the most energetic show on the market, is played as parody of the excessive of 70s Glam Rock and 80s Hair Metal.

Foxy Shazam doesn’t have to fear becoming The Darkness as their album is a much stronger effort. And unlike The Darkness, Foxy Shazam didn’t set the bar too high with bringing along, unarguably, the best band of the last two decades, The Wildhearts, as their opening act.

No, quite the contrary, Foxy Shazam set the bar low with opening act Maniac. The unoriginality of the name really does say it all.

If that doesn’t, let’s put it into the context of having seen some of the worst opening acts split between the Hard Rock Cafe and Club Cafe; This was worse, far worse.

Standing around the sound booth is the place for the optimal listening experience at most shows, even that couldn’t help Maniac. Out of tune, forcing choruses into verses that didn’t work is to be kind. Being, or worse, acting drunk on stage is worse as being a new band, they haven’t work the industry to have the alcohol-fueled shows of, say, Ryan Adams or Paul Westerberg.

After a painful 35-minutes of stage time, Maniac left and Foxy Shazam wowed the crowd.

Irony is a strange beast for adults of this day and age to wrap their heads around, so wondering if the kids at the show picked up it is a valid question that sadly has to leave you thinking that they don’t.

Foxy Shazam may serve as their gateway into the big dumb beast that is Rock in its fundamentally basic form. The group is what its grind-house name implies; You are going to be entertained for 80-some minutes. Yet, a few hours after the show, you are going to feel empty and hollow and wanting more, something more substantial.

There are very few musicians able to be the goods time and time again. The list is short, but it is safe to put Nicole Atkins on it.

In a stripped-down acoustic performance Atkins easily outshined headliners Fountains of Wayne at Mr. Small’s on April 23.

It is just a matter of time before the rest of the world catches up with the above paragraph. The world works slow in acknowledging the gifted from the grifters. Hopefully it will not take Aktins the same amount of time it has friends/colleagues The Avett Brothers to find that bigger audience.

And to do her justice, Atkins isn’t working the same Americana music as the Avetts, which if you were to read/listen to some misinformed people you would be left scratching your head trying to figure out.

Atkins, in two stellar albums, has set out on a path to become this generation’s Nick Cave. Whoa, let’s pull the reins in, you say? No, there is a dark romanticism at the core of Atkins work, just like that of Cave or Scott Walker. It is not a far-off thought to wonder what a Benicio Del Toro movie scored by Atkins would be like.

Minus the Black Sea, Atkins live far surpasses her recorded catalog. In this day and age of studio trickery, to appreciate the talent that is bubbling over in Atkins, one needs to see her live once to understand that her voice is the real deal. There is no tweak of it in the studio.

There are not many acts which can send the chills down the spine with their vocals alone, but on “The Tower,” Atkins managed that last Monday night.

Almost splitting her too-brief set between “Neptune City” and “Mondo Amore,” it becomes clearly visible that the digital version of the songs are set ups for the live experience.

For those who say there is nothing good in music today, this is for you; Dig just beneath the surface and find Nicole Atkins.

It is one time the effort is rewarded. Pittsburgh, you’ve been lucky to have Atkins tour through both as an opener and headliner, as those in attendance at said shows can claim they saw her at Club Cafe or the WYEP Summer Fest back when.

Talent deserves the accolades and rewards as it is far past the time we stop praising the mediocre and banal of the music industry. In the ever-changing landscape that is the music industry, you have to seek out the good stuff now. That is just the way it is. But in doing the work, you do get the bigger payoff for being able to see up-and-coming talent like Atkins in smaller settings before the rest of the world catches up and she is playing the bigger venues.

If you are reading this and not in the Pittsburgh area, but see that Atkins is scheduled to play your town, go to the show. Even if you don’t know her or heard single note of her music, just go. You will walk away a fan or at the very least have greater appreciation for music of today.

The gushing endth here. 

An Evening with Jim Avett is like a much, much better version of “Storytellers.”

The music is infinitely better. The between-song stories are more entertaining and it is because there is not a false note to Avett. What you see is what you get and he will make no apologies for that.

Gone are the self-indulgent tales, self-congratulatory tour through an artist catalog, Avett plays the music that inspired him in a 45-minute opening set. He takes a break intermingling with the crowd effortlessly, then hops back on stage to perform 45-minutes of his own material. 

It is not a show as it is more of an experience.

Whether playing a Jim Reeves cover or doing “Decisions” off of his latest release “Second Chance” or the title track from his album “Tribes,” Avett glides through influences and then shows how they impact his own work.

Without a doubt, Avett is a consummate showman. While self-depreciating about his musical talent, the man can clearly sing and play guitar with more a plumb than many other country artist that are more undeservedly famous.

And while Jim’s sons are in the midst of gaining their rightfully deserved time in the national spotlight there is no doubt where they got their talent.

If Jim Avett is booked to play your town, it is a must-see show. The Edinboro Art and Music Festival, you get your chance this Saturday as Avett will play a set there.

He brings country music back to its roots and any fan will truly appreciate the hard work Avett makes look easy.