Richard Lloyd Played The Studio At Webster Hall

On Thursday Gabe and I went to The Studio to see Richard Lloyd. Here's what Gabe had to say about the show.
------------------------------------------

I was at home cramping a frightening amount of recording gear into my shoebox-size room when I got a text from Matt.

“Richard Lloyd 2nite?”
“Recording a new song tonite. Whos that?

…“Television”

The amount of time between my message and his, along with the one-word pithiness of his response had a subtext of, “Dude…really?”

“Oh right.”

Television is one of those bands that don’t really need an introduction. The scope of their influence on rock and roll is pretty massive. At least the rock and roll I like. So if you don’t know, betta axe somebody.

Music snobbery aside though, they are personally one of my favorite bands of all time. The recording of my shitty shit could wait.

“When and where?”
“Studio at Webster Hall. I got a +1”

Great. Free to boot. I finished up a vocal take and geared up to leave. Shoes, jacket, iPod, crossword puzzle, and one last gulp of wine for the road.

When I got there, Matt was waiting outside. We showed our ID’s to the bouncer and walked downstairs to the girl with the list.

“Matt K. I’m on the list. This is my plus one.”

It’s a good feeling to get in somewhere for free when other people are paying. Especially when you’re on “The List.”

First thing we did was weave our way to the bar. Matt and I seem to think alike in many ways. I noticed a sign with drink specials on it.

“$3 PBR’s”
“Yeah, I saw that”

Not a bad price for a place like that. But if I had my druthers, PBR would be free. Like ice water at a restaurant. Standard. You walk into a bar and the first thing the bartender does is crack you open a PBR and say, “What else you havin?”

The opening band was playing. Hey Battlefield I think they were called. A three-piece standard rock outfit. Unremarkable. Not bad really, just unremarkable. Nice little songs. They didn’t move much and neither did we. One woman called for an encore. Must’ve been one of their girlfriends or something. It was funny when they actually did it.

A long time passed between them and Lloyd. Matt and I compared iPhones. Lame, I know, except for the fact that I got mine for free. Finders keepers, right? Everybody follows that rule, right?

Lloyd’s drummer (JP, of Dictators fame) put his cymbals about 6 feet off the ground. They were really fucking high. And he played huge sticks. Must be a Bonham fan.

His bass player looked strangely familiar. A chubby little guy with shaggy red hair. He looked like a kid in high school at his first Battle-of-the-Bands.

They played a few songs I didn’t recognize, but if I had to guess, I’d say they were post-Television originals of Lloyd’s. Then they played a Television song. And he did it well. He’s still a damn good guitar player. But he had more of a squishy, bluesy feel to his playing. Much different from the choppy and angular stabs I recognize as the Television “sound.” It was Television played as a power trio, a la the Hendrix Experience.

Then Lloyd went to the mic and said a few words.

“This next song is the 5th symphony from Beethoven. One of my favorite composers.”

Then they started the “Dumm DAH Dumm DAH Dumm DAH Dumm DAH” octave riff. You know the one. The fuckin PURPLE HAZE intro, brah!

I think I let out an audible “huh” in puzzlement. Ok. He’s doing a Hendrix cover. That’s cool I guess. Then he did another Hendrix cover. And then another. And then a-fucking-NOTHER. He did 4 in the middle. Then he played a few more Television songs I think. But then he went back into MORE Hendrix covers. “What the fuck?” I thought.

It turns out he’s promoting an album of Hendrix covers. I was unaware. And, according to his Wikipedia page, he claims to have gotten guitar lessons from a guy who got guitar lesson from Jimi. AND, Matt says he read somewhere online that Lloyd claims that Jimi once WEPT into his hands. Apparently, they’d had a fight and Jimi felt bad about it. Bad enough to weep into another man’s hands. But hey, it was the 60’s. Love and openness all around. And mind-altering and emotion-oscillating LSD. That too.

Could be true I guess. Or he could be making it up to help promote an indulgent album of fanboy cover songs.

During an awkward rendition of “Are You Experienced?” I went to the bathroom. There were a group of 6 or 7 clubbing-type dudes in there smoking weed. Apparently, they thought enough Axe body spray would mask the smell. They did not look like Television fans. Well, television maybe, but not “Television.”

When I got back, Matt walked up to me excitedly with a smile on his face.

“Dude, he just introduced his band. You know who the bass player is?”
“Who?”
“Danny Tamberelli!”
“Who’s that?”
“Little Pete from Pete and Pete!”

With that, we had a good laugh and left.

Fitz & The Tantrums - Songs For A Break-Up

Gabe took a listen to the Fitz & The Tantrums album, here's what he had to say.
----------------------

Are there any blue-eyed soul groups that aren’t at least 40 years old? I guess Hall & Oates did it in the 70s. Bowie sometimes delved in, but that was a long time ago, too. I read one blogger describe Fitz and the Tantrums thusly, and I can’t think of a better or easier description, so I’m gonna plagiarize it: Imagine Amy Winehouse, if she was white, male, and sane.

It’s got a sound that is so familiar and stirring, it surprises you that there aren’t more people doing it. But it’s easy to confuse resurrection of forgotten styles with originality. Or maybe, in a world of rock and roll where seemingly everything has been done, resurrection, or reinvention, is the new originality.

Apparently, the inspiration for the entire concept of the band came from a church organ virtually falling into Fitz’s lap. His neighbor was moving out, and they had the dusty old thing sitting in the basement, unused. He bought it for 50 bucks. He also claims that the entire album was recorded in his living room, using “one crappy old mic.” Quite a story. Sounds something like destiny, and I hope its true.

Whatever. This sounds good. And I like it. The recording sounds like an old 60s soul LP spinning away on top of your cool uncle’s turntable. And the songwriting itself also matches the era.

But, this is where my only real criticism of the band emerges. If they can find their own sort of voice and deliver it with this sound, I think they could be truly original. As they are now, with lyrics about love and heartbreak, classically delivered, it walks a little too close to the “musical tourism” line for me. I hear him singing about the darkness, but I don’t really feel it.

I have in mind the Amy Winehouse song, “Back to Black,” or whatever it’s called. You don’t have to know her sordid history to feel the dark place those lyrics squirm out of.

Take into account the fact that I’m writing this about an unsigned band. Although this probably won’t last long, it’s still surprising.

Fitz & The Tantrums Performing LIVE! that's right LIVE!!! "Breakin' the Chains of Love" from Fitz&theTantrums on Vimeo.

Superdrag Played Bowery Ballroom 4/9

Gabe and Irv headed over to the Superdrag show at Bowery Ballroom on Thursday. Here's a recap Gabe wrote with some photo's from Irv.
-------------------------------------------------

We were supposed to meet at Bowery Ballroom at 8pm. Irvin (BSC picture-taker aka Mr. Photog) and Ethan were waiting for me out front. I was about 20 minutes late.

Ethan- “Nine, Ten, Eleven. Remember those numbers,”

“What’s that? Why?”

“That’s all he said when I asked him when the show starts.”

He looked over his shoulder to a 250 lb bearded Suge Knight look-alike checking IDs at the door.

“…Asshole.”

I couldn’t tell if he was talking to me or Suge.

“So the first band doesn’t go on for another forty minutes? Sorry guys.”

Yes, I am absent-minded. I think most of my friends realize this by now.

“Well, look on the bright side: gives us plenty of time to get drunk. What bars are around here?”

Irvin- “Crash Mansion or R Bar. There’s not much else around.”

I’m not a big fan of either of those bars, and I expressed as much. But Mr. Photog makes friends everywhere he goes. Not only is he incredibly affable and energetic. He LOVES taking pictures of people, and it shows, which is inherently flattering to anybody getting their picture taken by him.

Pia was bartending at R Bar. Friendly, funny, and beautiful, (Pia, if I had a phone, I might have the balls to ask for your number) she poured us beers as a terrible band’s guitarist squealed away from the back room.

Pia- “So you guys are actually sort of working right now?”

Sobering reminder of the task at hand. She had been regaling us with tales of blackout drunkenness. All the stories were second-hand, since she didn’t remember any of it herself. Try saying “21-34 30th Ave at 31st St” next time you get into a cab after 12 cosmos. He dropped her off in Times Square.

I looked at my watch. It was after 10 o’clock. We had to get back.

Bowery Ballroom. Downstairs we saw my two old roommates, Valeria and Stella. They are both big fans of Superdrag. In fact, they went to both NYC shows on both nights. And I think I remember Stella saying something like, “They are my favorite band ever. But you have to understand, I was like 15 when they came out.” An unprovoked apology for liking the band.

I’ve heard a lot of that stuff about Superdrag. Somebody else I know, who’s musical tastes are usually on the same rails as mine, has autographed and framed setlists from two of their shows. My awareness of them is as a band from the mid-90s glut of post-grunge MTV bands. And I don’t like to do that to bands. I don’t like to pigeonhole them into one-hit wonderdom just because I’ve been unaware of their output over the years. They have a respectable following, even after these 15 years, and after an alcoholism-induced breakup and subsequent Christian output by their main songwriter. But they’re back now. New record. New tour. And I was at Bowery Ballroom to listen and hopefully discover what I’d been missing. And they brought their friends from Knoxville to open up for them.

We got there just at the end of The Tenderhooks set, and Irvin disappeared into the scattered bodies near the front of the stage. If not for the lightning flashes from his camera, there would’ve been no evidence of his presence. Inter-gender country vocal harmonies, while the guitarist finger-picked his way through a humble progression. I’m such a sucker for that stuff. “Raise high the roof beams, dancing” was their final refrain for the night. I thought it set a nice theme. Suddenly Irv reappeared at my side against the bar.

“They sound good. Look at these pictures I got.”

He scrolled through a few of the shots he’d snapped on his camera’s view screen.

Next band was The High Score. Shiny new Les Pauls crunched out some good ole Tennessee bar fare. They reminded me of the Black Crows, without the recklessness. Nothing really to think about. I was getting it. Music’s fun. You don’t have to analyze it and write an 800 word blog about it. A nice thought. I wish I could subscribe in earnest. “It’s a mighty good wine” they sang.

Something a little peculiar happened when Superdrag walked onto the stage. First of all, they were setting up all their own equipment, plugging into amps and pedals, setting levels. There wasn’t a curtain or anything to hide them. They were exposed, and everyone in the room was silently staring at them. Judging from the eavesdropping I was doing, most people there were long time fans excited to see one of their favorite bands reunited. You would think there would be some positive heckling. “I love you John Davis!” Something like that. It was silent. They were looking at them as if looking into an aquarium.

So they start the first song. People sing along. Verse-Chorus-Verse-Chorus-Bridge-Chorus-Out. They do it again. And again. They are good songs. There is NOTHING to think about. So why am I thinking about it? I have another drink. There are cheers. But the band looks a little affected. Especially Davis. Is there some sort of underlying Christian guilt about reforming a band that drove you to addiction, the sin of false idolatry? Is he thinking about it too much? Am I? Yes. Definitely. They are good songs. Just shut up and enjoy them. Ethan finishes off a beer, burps, and says “I feel like I’m eating dry white toast that’s 15 years old. Let’s get outta here.”

I never even got to hear them sing it: “Who sucked out the FEEELAAAAANG?”

Link:
View The Full Photo Set On Flickr