Vinyl Notes

Ya fly as hell, swagger right, brown skin poppin’, ya know just how to talk to me, know just how I like it.
Ya turnin me on, ya turnin’ me on…

Almost a year ago, I wrote about Keri Hilson being the next R&B “it” girl and since the release of her debut album In A Perfect World… she has become exactly that.

I’ll try not to gush, because on some levels I like her despite myself. A beautiful voice, catchy song-writing, dance music, legs for days…The girl is hot hot hot and I might actually go purchase the album.

In the meantime, I’ll just play “Turning Me On” until I can’t stand it anymore.

Dime divas give it to me!

On Thursday a legend died.

I was surprised by my grief.

It wasn’t grief like that for a personal friend, but rather the sense that this person had contributed so much to the soundtrack of my life. He was a cultural icon the world over and had spent his entire life creating and sharing beautiful music with a message of love.

What I love is that in his death, no one chose to focus on the controversies surrounding Michael Jackson’s later years. There was an outpouring of love, which is exactly what he had given the world for so long.

One person asked if MJ would go to heaven or hell and wondered whether or not he had made peace with his demons. I believe MJ’s demons hunted him until the day he died and that his hell was here on earth. Pop critic Robert Hilburn wrote a beautiful piece on MJ’s wounded heart, from which he never recovered. If he only knew how much we really loved him…

Dennis Romero of DanceBlogga noted that Michael Jackson’s Thriller was the best selling studio album of all time and has told me time and time again, that Off the Wall was his favorite Michael Jackson album. How funny that “Off the Wall” should be the song stuck in my head from the moment I heard of MJ’s passing.

MJ was a major influence on music and culture. So many in my generation grew up listening to his music. Hell, every R&B boy from Usher to Chris Brown to Ne-yo and Akon, has gotten their moves from Michael Jackson.

The afterlife only matters to the living. Untimely or not, June 25, 2009 will be remembered as the day Michael Jackson died. And all I can say is that life ain’t so bad at all, when you live it off the wall.

I know the posting has been few and far between these days. I’ve been away for much too long. Truth be told, it’s been a long time since any music caught my ear enough to compelled to write about it. You can be sure I would have never thought it would end up being Ciara.

I always dug her sexy style but kinda wrote her off as another flash in the pan. She’s on her third album and while she may not be in the tabloids constantly, the girl is hot hot hot. And damn if she doesn’t remind me of a young Janet with the sensuality kicked way up.

This weekend she was on SNL and her performance was melt you into your chair hot. That is all. You check it out yourself.

The 28th Annual Ragga Muffins Festival in Long Beach drew a smaller crowd – could be the economy, or not enough mainstream artists to draw the parade of hipsters, pretty people and meat-heads so prevalent three years ago. In keeping with the festival’s oft spoken of return to its roots, this year’s line-up was about uplifting your spirits, not just shaking your booty.

In our preview we touched on the contributions of Lee “Scratch” Perry and Tony Rebel. On Sunday we got a history lesson on Leroy Sibbles…given by Sibbles himself.  A legend by most standards, Sibbles is not attributed for his contributions to reggae (most notably his famed baseline popularized in “Pass the Dutchie”).

Well, we can give Sibbles credit for injecting the day with energy and establishing a collective desire for communion. As he repeated the refrain, “love is in air” we could see it was, as strangers danced together and refreshments were shared freely.

Sibbles set left the audience well primed for Pressure, a performer who may lack wrinkles but does not lack depth. It was obvious he enjoyed performing as much as the crowd was feeling him. When the crowd started singing his lyrics, Pressure couldn’t resist a smile and wink, reveling in their energy.

Great performances abounded, but this Bob Marley Day clearly belonged to Stephen Marley. The acoustic gig had an ethereal power, commanding the crowd’s attention from a seat in center stage. The crowd was enraptured and reverent, receiving his music like an offering. Festival goer Addison Alkire said it best, “this feels like church.” While Marley’s rendition of his father’s songs were true to form, his use of flute & sax imparted his own resonance.

At the end of the set Ziggy and Julian joined their brother onstage. The audience responded with exuberance, appreciative to have so many Marley’s back.

It wasn’t all roses though. Introduced as “the son of a legend”, it seemed the Marley name got Julian a better time slot than he merited. Tanya even speculated that dubious intro might be foreshadowing. The audience was not impressed with his lineage and zoned out after the second song, missing repetitive melodies and gratuitous face grabbing.

By contrast, up-and-comer E-Dee’s energetic exhibition would have benefited from better placement; his was the first set on Sunday. He delivered songs heavy on bass with danceable beats, but it was like trying to light a wet match. After the set E-Dee acknowledged his attempts to draw audience, saying “If you don’t get hype the audience won’t.”

Another notable, Etana, also had a lackluster response, though for entirely different reasons. She blamed inadequate time for failing to get her message across; we humbly submit our own hypothesis. The instrumentation overpowered her voice from the start. As time went the strain on her voice was evident, perhaps from the effort of singing over the music. Even so, we must bear witness, she sings with grace, free of superfluous vibrato. And onstage she is regal.

Onto non-musical details. There were fewer vendors this year, but that was not a bad thing. Gone were the mass produced Bob Marley onesies sold at a dozen booths. When asked about the improved quality of the cultural wares, festival organizer Barbara Barabino said, “I was tired of the crap too.” She went on to say that she prioritized vendor selection this year, personally inviting real artists to “bring it back.”

Despite lower attendance, the 28th Annual Ragga Muffins Festival was a success. Buju Banton, Saturday’s headliner, said he makes music “to uplift, educate and eradicate negativity from the minds of the people.” That charge may well be applied to the real purpose of reggae music. This weekend that promise was fulfilled.

Hello dear readers. I know its been months since last I posted. Life has been hectic and I started a new gig and am just now coming up for air after a brief music writing hiatus. Great timing too because its time for the 28th Annual Ragga Muffins Festival (show coverage).

This year we’re being graced with reggae legends Buju Banton, Lee “Scratch” Perry, and Tony Rebel. Ever diligent, Queen Ifrica is returning this year as well a many other up and comers, and several of the Marley boys.

Full coverage to come. Stay tuned.

After getting lost in downtown San Francisco, I finally made it back to Treasure Island for day two of the festival and just in time for Vampire Weekend. To my surprise they were not nearly as boring live as I had expected. After being built up in the blogosphere and then ripped apart by critics for lackluster performances, the ivy league educated indie pop group has likely made some improvements over the last year.

For all of Dr. Dog’s supposed effort to recapture a by-gone era in music, their music was discordant and decidedly modern. The influences were apparent however, from the gruff exposition of Jim Morrison-esque vocals, the Jimmy Hendrix reminiscent noise distortions and harmonies evocative of The Beatles and the Beach Boys. The set was quite entertaining despite the feedback, the off sync arrangements and unfortunate imbalance of the instruments, which drowned out the vocals.

Twin duo Tegan & Sara were simply charming. The combination of infectious rhythms, dissonant chords and punk influences made for a excellent performance. Between songs, the pair engaged the audience with dialogue, providing festival attendees with bits of Tegan & Sara trivia. Once their set was over, there was a surprising mass exodus of younger audience members.

The Kills were electrifying. Of all the male/female twosomes to come out of the UK, The Kills are arguably the most gritty and caustic. Together, vocalist Alison Mosshart aka VV and guitarist Jamie Hence aka Hotel have a magnetic energy and drew the attention of the crowd, and definitely gained at least one new fan. Hotel’s appropriately jarring guitar rips were a great complement for the acerbic lyrics and gravelly voice of VV. The pair are one of the best up-and-coming rock bands of the current era. 

It was The Raconteurs who stole the show and blew the rest  completely out of the water. From stage presence to stage dressing, from arrangement to sound quality, The Raconteurs where enthralling and took the other bands to school in terms of how to put on a good show. From start to finish the Nashville quintet captivated the audience. The set spanned the gambit from bluegrass to hard rock to funky pop ballads. Jack White is the obvious star of the group, he stepped back into the shadows several times allowing other band members to have the spotlight.

As I attend more and more festivals I’m learning to appreciate the unique quirks about each one. Every festival has its own theme, local culture, craft vendors, and even fashion trends.

The Treasure Island Music Festival in San Francisco is by far one of the  funkiest festivals I have ever attended. Because Treasure Island is a military base, clearance to actually drive onto the Island was limited. So we music lovers embarked on an adventure in comfy leather seated charter buses.

Once on the Island we disembarked to find that we were among the first to arrive and the first band The Frail was in mid set. Taking in my surroundings, I noticed that the two stages were set up within ear shot of each other, there was no seating except for a few bleachers for VIPs and the entire festival venue was pretty small. That didn’t bother me much though, after the 74 acre trekking I’d done a few weeks ago at Bumbershoot .

There were several lounge areas, the most popular of which was probably the the Boost Mobile Tent where there was a phone charging station, as well as futon beds and huge pillows to veg out on while soaking in the atmosphere. InCase gets the prize for the best giveaway, but loses points in the branding department since we walked away from the booth still unsure what the product was.

The line up was an eclectic collection of pop music from around the world; from Los Angeles and San Francisco to Brazil and the UK. Loquat’s performance was a display of raw talent, with melodious chords and pulsing baselines. Nortec Collective moved the crowd with its fun fusion of electronic and acoustic elements, traditional Mexican dance samples combined with an accordion and tuba.

Antibalas had some definite Latin jazz influences. Slightly disorienting was when they went from melodious and soothing to seething and acerbic with political chants. Amon Tobin was properly disconcerting with its droning baselined noise distortion that shook the ground.

The highlights of day one were definitely Chester French and Goldfrapp. Where Chester French was funky with lyrics reminiscent of Weezer but with rhythms far more energizing and a vocalist with a surprisingly big voice. Together, Guitarist Maxwell Drummey and vocalist D.A. Wallach were an adorably charismatic pair and put on one of the most entertaining sets of the day. Watching them on stage, it’s no wonder they’ve caught the attention of Kanye West and were signed to Pherell’s Star Trek label. Put these boys on your list of groups to watch.

Goldfrapp was magical. While much of the music sounded the same, the visual of the band in all white, the reflective sun and the gusting winds was fantastic. With wind gusting and  front woman Alison Goldfrapp clad in a slinky white slip dress covered in rainbow ribbons, the affect was almost ethereal. July was the most esoteric with the spacey lazer like sounds rose from the stage; the band members all swayed as if being driven by the wind. As the base throbbed and the beat to “Satin Chic” marched on, the crowed bounced happily along.

Check back for more coverage of the Treasure Island Music Festival.

America’s Got Talent (AGT) features dancers, singers, musicians, acrobats, magicians and other acts, all competing to will $1 million and the next big Las Vegas act. Last week the final five were revealed.

Neal E. Boyd may be an insurance salesman by day but by night he is a world class opera singer. He has enthralled the viewers since his first AGT performance after which he received a standing ovation.

Neal E. Boyd

Nuttin’ But Strings are two brothers from Queens, NY who want to bring the violin to the forefront of mainstream music. How you ask? With their genre bending combination of hip hop, rock and classical influences, they amazed the judges with a high energy performance that would make any kid think playing the violin. Piers Morgan, the toughest of the three judges, called Nuttin’ But Strings “fresh, exciting, original, super talented.”

Nuttin’ But Strings

Queen Emily had everyone – everyone following America’s Got Talent that is – comparing her to Aretha Franklin after her performance of “Chain of Fools.” Last week she sang “You’re Gonna Love Me” and wowed the judges with her phenomenal voice and larger than life stage presence. All her life she has been waiting for a moment like this to live out her dream and now, she’s in the top five. Proof that dreams do come true.

"Queen" Emily David

Donald Braswell was a professional singer and lost his voice after a freak accident. 11 years, three kids, relearning how to talk and almost being booed of the stage by the audience, Braswell is in the AGT top five. His rendition of Josh Groban’s “You Raise Me Up” was moving and took the crowd from wanting him to get the heck off of the stage to chanting their hope that he will be the winner: “Vegas! Vegas! Vegas!” Donald Braswell may be a veteran vocalist, but he is this competitions black horse.

Donald Braswell

Eli Mattson became an instant heart-throb with his emotive execution of “Walking In Memphs.” Judge Sharon Osborne expressed her surprise that this 26-year-old sing/songwriter had not been signed. Like all the others, America’s Got Talent is his chance for the big break he’s been working his whole life for. Even if he doesn’t win, he can’t lose.

Eli Mattson

To find out who wins or just to see more of the awe inspiring performances, check out America’s Got Talent Wednesdays 9/8 Central. The finale airs Oct. 1,  9/8 Central.

A few weeks ago we hit the Seattle ground running at Bumbershoot, this weekend I’m in the Bay Area for San Francisco’s Treasure Island Music Festival (TIMF).

The lineup for the weekend is a collection of both veterans and up-and-comers including The Raconteurs, GoldFrapp, Tegan & Sara, Vampire Weekend, Chester French, The Kills, Loquat and TV on the Radio.

Ever since watching the streaming of the Lollapalooza AT&T stage, I vowed that I would see The Raconteurs live. It was a magical experience, and I wasn’t even in Chicago’s Grant Park that night. So this weekend is my chance.

Goldfrapp has been around for ages, but has only popped onto my radar recently. She has definitely undergone some changes since her 2005 glam-pop hit “Ooh La La.” I especially like “Happiness” with it’s lovely bouncing melody and breathy allure.

Beyond those two, this will be an adventure in discovery for me. With none of the sets overlapping, and being stranded on Treasure Island (so to speak), I’ll be able to take in most of the shows.

Check back over the weekend for festival coverage!

After an intentionally slow Saturday – besides Beck there were no absolute must sees – we headed back to Bumbershoot Sunday for a whammy of an evening. Everything we planned to see was packed into the last five hours of the day. The only reprise, however bittersweet, was a cancellation by Kid Sister.

The lawn surrounding the Starbucks Stage was packed with a diverse group of all ages from Pampers to Depends to catch Jakob Dylan. Surprisingly, the audience didn’t contain rabid women throwing their unmentionables. Much like his father, most of his set was indiscernible, with Dylan chewing on his words in mumbles. Unlike us, clearly, there were people there just for the music, many sitting and even laying in the grass.

Half way through Dylan’s set, we bailed, bound for the mainstage to see rock as pure driven snow from The Black Keys. Though, the audience was full already, as the Keys began playing, the floodgates opened and people poured into the venue like the tide. We overheard many a conversation among spectators wondering who was playing; one even vowing to make an iTunes purchase. The music cut through all distractions with laser like focus, driving people to dance involuntarily.

The last hour of our day, as we wanted to catch three performances who were all playing at the same time. First stop Stone Temple Pilots but they were late, so we left to see a recommended band called Thee Emergency. Described by a fan as “Saul Williams as a woman with soul,” our curiosity was piqued. Unfortunately, they didn’t deliver. It was also strange to see the lead vocal actively directing the band, though it was hard to see who was actually playing because so many people apparently loitering on stage. So we left.

Back at STP the crowd had gotten antsy. It was thirty minutes past the scheduled start and the roadies were still setting up. Finally, at 9:45 pm the tour bus pulled up and the audience went ape shit. The sheer volume of people in the stadium was astounding, and almost made the reception for Beck and The Black Keys look small. Seattle clearly loves STP. As the set began, we could see why. There was a good mix of easily recognizable radio hits as well as songs that were clearly for die-hard fans. These are veteran showmen; not only was Scott Weiland in constant motion, the rest of the other members of band also engaged the audience.

Though Weiland started the set in shades, hat, leather jacket, vest and scarf by night’s end he was down to his shirt. The organized mayhem of the mosh pit increased with each number and the band sprinkled their performance with just enough banter between songs. Someone once asked “What’s the Big Deal with STP? Answer, see them live.