Tag Archives: mastodon

Your Live Music Bets for the Weekend of April 24 through April 26

There really is a crap-ton of great live music to choose from over the next three days, so much so that it’s almost a fool’s errand to even single out a small handful of gigs. That said, you can’t go wrong with any of the below options. Hey, I just preview ’em: You’re on your own from there.

Friday, April 24 (tonight!):

Down North (shown here at Bumbershoot 2013) will funk-rock the Tractor tonight. (photo: Tony Kay)

Down North, Breaks and Swells, Whitney Monge, Purr Gato @ Tractor Tavern. 21+. $12 advance/$14 at the door. Doors at 8:00 p.m., show at 9:00 p.m.

I’ve been a fan of headliners Down North long enough to have nearly run out of adjectives to describe ’em. Suffice it to say they’re one of the most snap-tight, hard-working funk-rock ensembles in town (emphasis on the rock), and that lead singer Anthony Briscoe remains a fireball of a live presence. The get-there-early mantra does apply: Marquetta Miller’s playful and subtly sensual pipes front Breaks and Swells’ ace infusion of velour-tinged old-school soul, Whitney Monge’s sandpaper-soulful merger of folk and R&B translates famously in a live setting, and Purr Gato’s electro-pop should start the evening in sinewy and danceable fashion.

Mr. Gnome, Posse, Wind Burial @ Columbia City Theater 21+. $10 advance/$12 at the door. Show at 9:00 p.m.

Cleveland’s Mr. Gnome float my boat mightily, with a combination of spectral-yet-toothy vocals, clattering layers of sonics, and psychedelia that manages to be cosmic, forward-thinking, and catchy as Hell. Local three-piece Posse do easygoing, ineffably charming stripped-down indie pop a la Yo La Tengo and Luna.

Wind Burial, all dark and swirly. (photo: Tony Kay)

And yes, you’re nuts if you’re not early enough to catch Wind Burial’s opening set. The narcotic spell woven by their newest long-player, We Used to Be Hunters, infuses primal drumming, shoegazer swirl, and strong streaks of fetching darkness with dense, earthy psych-rock. Singer Kat Terran’s mesmerizing voice—a singular instrument that combines a folksinger’s clarion beauty with an undercurrent of gothic eeriness—provides  this particular potion’s most resonant ingredient.

Saturday, April 25:

VibraGun, Dirty Dirty, Dead End Friend @ Barboza. 21+. $6 advance. Show at 7:00 p.m.

VibraGun’s shoegazer sound flips back and forth between Swervedriver-style textural/driving rock and dreamy pop reminiscent of Lush. Dirty Dirty and Dead End Friend, meantime, demonstrate the very divergent hues possible with a stripped-down line-up. The former band bashes out a mutant fusion of garage-punk and groove-infused metal with a sturdy two-dude configuration, highlighted by bassist Ian Forrester’s Freddie Mercury-gone-art-punk vocals and drummer Ian Harper’s forceful backbeat. Fellow Seattle rock duo Dead End Friend plays rock in the Pearl Jam/Soundgarden mold that’s refreshingly shorn of any flavor-of-the-month hipster garnishes. Guitarist/vocalist Jonah Simone knows his way around that patented Seattle arena rock stop/start groove, and Drummer James Squires matches Simone slug for slug. It’s a big sound that’s not super-fashionable in this neck of the woods right now, but they play it like champs.

Prom Queen @ Vito’s Restaurant and Lounge. 21+. Free. Show at 9:00 p.m.

In 2014 Celene Ramadan, the raven-haired chanteuse who leads (and sort of is) Prom Queen, put together Midnight Veil, a DVD that combined videos for twelve of her songs into an evocative, funny, and wonderfully retro mini-movie. Oh, and she co-directed the damn thing, too. The DVD was so ambitious that the inclusion of the audio CD almost seemed like an afterthought, but the music enclosed was (and is) amazing—a seamless collection of tunes that augment Prom Queen’s noir-girl-pop style with tremolo-soaked surf pop, jazz, and rich production. Ramadan’s solo Prom Queen shows are always terrific (she often accompanies pre-recordings of her pocket symphonies with guitar and voice), but I’m crossing my fingers that her sharp Prom Queen backing band joins her. Either way, this is one hell of a bargain, especially amidst Vito’s gloriously retro-lounge environs.

Sunday, April 26:

Elvis Costello (solo) @ Paramount Theatre. All ages. $41.25 to $71.25 advance. Doors at 6:00 p.m, show at 7:00 p.m.

Do you really need me to tell you that Elvis Costello’s songbook could well be the finest of any songwriter alive today, that he’s the best lyricist on the planet, and that his song selection for this solo show comes from a catalog so deep that every single cut he plays/sings will likely be amazing? Thought not. You can pretty much bet the steepness of the admission price will be more than offset by the quality (and likely the duration—the man routinely plays two-hour and longer sets) of the music on display.

Mastodon, Clutch, Big Business @ Showbox SODO. 21+. $37 advance, $39 day of show. Show at 7:00 p.m.

For the last 15 years Atlanta-based monsters Mastodon have pretty much represented the gold standard for heavy-as-shit thinking person’s metal, evolving and maintaining a sense of adventure without losing their Hammer-of-Thor crunch. Their 2004 sorta-concept album Leviathan stands as their masterpiece to these ears, but their sixth release, last year’s Once More ‘Round the Sun, proves that they’ve maintained their consistency to an astonishing degree. The even longer-lived Maryland metal combo Clutch and LA’s Big Business form a potent opening one-two punch that should make even the Showbox SODO’s barn-like vibe and dodgy acoustics worth enduring.

Soundgarden at the Gorge: Extremely Loud, Incredibly Close, and Scarily Good

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While Soundgarden was touring behind Down on the Upside, I was enrolled in Photography 101. The band was still amassing fans even as its contemporaries faded (Nirvana, Alice in Chains) or retreated from fame (Pearl Jam). I was shooting New Mexico aspens with a Canon EOS Rebel and listening to Seattle via Walkman.

Then Soundgarden took some time off from their instruments, and I from mine.

Fifteen years later last weekend, the resurrected band appeared at the Gorge Amphitheatre to punctuate a lauded we’re baaaack tour. And I was there, Canon DSLR in tow, as an official “media” designee. Didn’t see that coming.

The concert would have been an unmissable event had it been two hours of Soundgarden alone. But there was more. Meat Puppets and Mastodon and Queens of the Stone Age more.

An entry snafu—and an early start—resulted in us (my always-game wife and I, and other photographers) missing the Meat Puppets, but the windblown, jangly riffs and familiar “Backwater” and “Oh Me” and “Lake of Fire” refrains made for fine waiting music.

Event handlers had us lensers in place early for Mastodon. They led us into the pit—a narrow strip of real estate between the stage and already sun-and-$12-beer-drunk masses—and left us in the care of big, surprisingly amiable security dudes in highlighter-yellow polos.

Mastodon roared through one intricately massive song and started the next before I could even begin to calm. Guitarist and vocalist Brent Hinds led the band’s space-metal charge, lobbing heavy, unpredictable chords, tornadoes of adrenaline, over our heads and onto the masses. I went in a casual fan of Crack the Skye; I emerged knowing I’d be picking up their next effort, The Hunter.

Queens of the Stone Age followed, with their signature sexy-stoner swagger in full effect. Josh Homme and Co. kept the energy level high, peppering the set with selections from Songs for the Deaf. (Sadly, neither occasional guest Dave Grohl nor Mark Lanegan made an appearance.) While Homme’s focused guitar work and grimace suggested an all-business attitude, his between-song banter countered with levity; early in the set, he implored the crowd to make collective love at the end of the night.

The mood was definitely right. The place was alive with anticipation and lubricated with alcohol and grass. As the sky darkened and the heat slowly leaked away, shirtless dudes hugged each other. Round older men and svelte bikini-clad girls exchanged high-fives. As we photographers filed back to the lip of the stage, sunburned dudes behind the low barricade extended fists for bumping. The security guys joked about our dubious safety in the slim pit. We all traded grins.

When Soundgarden emerged from the wings in a dazzle of light, I had the lens cap off, the flash off, and the appropriate settings engaged. That in itself was amazing. How lively and primed—though yes, aged—original members Matt Cameron, Chris Cornell, Kim Thayil, and Ben Shepherd looked from this close. And their sound? Ditto.

The band was as solid and on as it is on Live on I-5, this spring’s primer from its 1996 tour. Actually, the 2011 Soundgarden was better, tighter, as if the lengthy break only made the guys hungry for another stage. And Cornell’s signature shredding wail was as flawless and improbable as on any studio record. In short, the band’s return to the Gorge—symbolic of its return in general—was triumphant.

Opener “Searching With My Good Eye Closed” described what I was disbelievingly doing: shooting like a madman—while bouncing on the balls of my feet—from maybe eight feet below Cornell’s boots. “Spoonman” (minus its namesake, Artis), one of the band’s catchier though somehow flimsy songs, was shockingly good. With it came a steady tide of giddy crowdsurfers, softly set afoot by security. Some of the incoming even returned before “Gun,” up next, ended. Like Soundgarden’s music, the pit was simultaneously dangerous and inviting. It was wild. It was perfect.

The experience was nearly as powerful from the grass 100 yards away. Cameron proved, as always, why he’s every bit as skilled a rock drummer as Grohl. Thayil serenely tore through his dexterous riffs, surveying the crowd like a mildly surprised Buddha. Shepherd threw down mile-wide rhythms and, at one point, threw down his bass itself. And Cornell effortlessly owned the stage.

As the last fading riff of encore closer “Slaves and Bulldozers” echoed to the hills and canyon and black snake of a river, I felt the first pang of anticipation for new Soundgarden music. (Full set list here.) It might not have even come to mind until the quiet drive home had Cornell not earlier joked, “We’re playing a lot of old songs tonight—because they’re all old songs.” And then promised: “Next time we’ll play some new shit.”

Hopefully I’ll be toting the Canon again next time, but even if not—and that’s pretty likely, as who gets so lucky twice?—I’m there. Word is Soundgarden will release a new studio record in early 2012, so the wait might be a pretty short one.