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Looks like Soundgarden is officially back on the road, even though front man Chris Cornell is in the middle of a solo acoustic tour. Such multitaskers. The Seattle rockers reunite for their first tour in 13 years, with a concert at the Gorge scheduled for Saturday, July 30. Queens of the Stone Age, Mastodon and Meat Puppets will open. Tickets ($65) go on sale Saturday, May 14, at 10am at
livenation.com or
ticketmaster.com. Check
soundgardenworld.com for updates.
After opening the call for new nominations for restaurants that deserve a public shaming for using auto-play music on their websites, an Eater commenter has snitched on Tony's Pizza Napoletana. The popular North Beach spot has a website that greets potential patrons with a wanky saxophone and drum duet. Luckily, there's an option to skip that intro and go to the homepage, which has no sound, but it's smaller and at the bottom of a page. We are relieved to report that this violation against mankind has not been repeated on the website for Gemignani's newest restaurant Capo's, so maybe there's hope that he will see the error of his ways and take the smooth jazz off of the Tony's site. Bad music doesn't have to happen to good restaurants.
The latest in-house nomination for auto-play humiliation goes to Caa, the Cuban restaurant from Oakland that recently opened a second spot in San Francisco. Not only does the website feature auto-play music, it features a continuous loop of one song, probably calculated to drive customers crazy. This needs to stop.
Since the last Hall of Shame post was published, Amlie caved in and swapped the self-important bluegrass renderings of Soundgarden for a quiet site, but longtime violators Cliff House and Level III are still holding strong in bad judgment.
Known for their whirlwind of pulverizing beats, the Brothers roared into the town ready and willing to christen the new Avalon. And rock they did, oh yes. The show started off fast and furious with Surrender's "Hey Boy Hey Girl" and "Music: Response." This segued directly into the megasmash "Block Rockin' Beats," much to the delight of the crowd. A movie screen behind the duo featured manic black and white montages of pictures and words flashed in tune to the beat of the music, and only added to the epileptic, frenetic pace.
Unfortunately, because of an abnormally long wait between the doors for the show and the starting time, those three songs were the only ones I witnessed. I can only imagine how the rest of the show was; supposedly everything but "Let Forever Be" was performed off of the superb album Surrender. I can only go home and put on my CD and imagine the joyful beats and mesmerizing noise spewed forth from the mechanized consoles of the Brothers. I must be content with the knowledge that if the rest of the show looked and sounded like the first frantic minutes, then one amazing experience was had by all.
The patron saint of grunge, Chris Cornell, returned triumphantly with a riveting sneak preview of the distinctly different but equally impressive music contained on his first solo album Euphoria Morning.
Though this show was only his "second live show ever" solo, his years of experience as first the drummer and then the lead singer of Soundgarden have made Cornell a stage veteran. The addition of the highly capable band Eleven as his musicians just magnified the talent present on the stage.
While Sanders' cavernous architecture swallowed the vocals of more than a few of the tunes featured and rendered many songs murky, the restrained guitar of Alain Johannes and the impassioned vocals of Cornell more than adequately shone through.
New songs like "Preaching The End Of The World" and "Sweet Euphoria" showcased a mellower, more introspective Cornell. Songs like those and the classic "Seasons" frequently induced chills with their stark, quiet power.
However, the harder edged songs like the first single "Can't Change Me," "Flutter Girl" and "Steel Rain" contained a dose of emotion and life that was undeniable and mesmerizing. And even though Cornell nodded to his past (with Soundgarden's "Like Suicide" and Temple Of The Dog's "All Night Thing"), the songs had enough of a unique spin on them to make them sound like fresh compositions.
Attention, bland rock bands of today: pay close attention to R.E.M. and their 20 years of experience. No, you can only look at them, don't touch; their career is something precious and out of reach for you musicians. Enjoy your platinum albums and adoring fans while you can. When you're cashing in on your one hit with a reunion package tour with your fellow one-hit wonders in twenty years, you'll finally understand the importance of creating good music.
Because that's just what the concert at the Tweeter Center was: an amazing night of good music. Age be damned, R.E.M. put on an energetic and mind-blowing show. The proof was in the writhing mass of swirling bodies and hoarse voices screaming the lyrics aloud. The band fed right off of this enthusiasm and ended their tour with an incredibly high-kicking, electrically charged show.
Sure, sneer at R.E.M. and their earnestness and politics and wussiness, but no arguments about this: the boys know how to make good music. Unlike other popular bands of the past and present (ahem, Aerosmith, Rolling Stones, Cranberries et al.), every one of R.E.M.'s albums has some redeeming quality. No synthpop or electronica experiments to be found! Even better, all of their earliest albums have withstood the test of time and sound fresh and new today.
What? No, no, no. R.E.M.'s tour was certainly not a nostalgia trip. Yes, they were raucous and rollicking during versions of early '80s classics "Radio Free Europe" and "Wolves, Lower," as well as passionate on mid-career faves like "Fall On Me" and "The One I Love." But because like wine the band has only grown sweeter and more potent with age, the oldies sounded as great as the new songs.
That's right, R.E.M. in 1998 released a delicate and complex album entitled Up. MTV, the radio and Billboard might not have acknowledged this fact, but Up is sophisticated, mellow and incredibly cohesive. So this album was naturally given star billing on this tour, with 10 out of 14 tracks performed. Showcasing their maturity and deft ability to combine moods, the song performances ranged from uplifting ("Walk Unafraid"), menacing ("The Apologist"), rocking ("Lotus"), quietly beautiful ("Why Not Smile") and wistful (the rarely played "Sad Professor").
Oh, and lest you think that in their old age R.E.M. may show signs of slowing down, think again. New song "The Great Beyond" from the upcoming Andy Kaufman movie Man On The Moon rang with sheer cinematic beauty and youthful optimism. Early '90s tracks like "Find The River" and "Sweetness Follows" were brooding, tear-inducing and gorgeous. And their positively manic and explosive finale of "It's The End Of The World As We Know It" had more energy than a bawitdaba and a nookie combined.
So, modern rock bands of today, I hope you all have been paying close attention to this concert and this band, because raw rock talent like R.E.M. comes around once in a millennium. They haven't resorted to exhortations of violence or kitschy and cutesy covers or amalgamations of genres to survive. Blink and you'll miss most rock music, but R.E.M. and their rapid eye movement have perfected the skill of slowing down to remember the past even while hurtling forward into the future.
Two hours, an hour, half an hour before show time, we dialled the Axis number. With half hope, half fear, we asked, "Hey man, you know the Basement Jaxx gig tonight? Is it cancelled?" Half hope because it was storming like a teledrama outside. And half fear because, we miss them now, and we miss the big bright bloomin' future of all house music for good. Armand would never have forgiven us. Neither would Thomas Bangalter, Jon Carter, Eric Morillo, Roger Sanchez, Danny Tenaglia, Pete Tong, Gilles Peterson, Ashley Beadle, Norman Jay or Phillippe Zdar. They've heard the boys, and they love them.
And what's not to love? Of course, titles like "the most exciting musical force in Britain" fly liberally these days, being dispensed, coincidentally enough, at a frequency to match music rag publication. We cloaked ourselves in doubt--how could any DJ duo be that formidable? It was no good. They defeated Floyd to pack in hundreds of big-trousered, poker-hatted, UV-resplendent love-children of dance; our skepticism fell away at the drop of a beat.
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