music makes new yorkers come together.

madonna
@ madison square garden
6.28.06

when you’re an icon like madonna, you’ve pretty much done it all, and yet you’re still expected to wow both your fans and enemies just to keep them coming back for more. and when you’re anyone else but madonna, after all these years you’re probably still intrigued by your love/hate relationship with her, and you think you’ve seen it all, until she begins her concert by stepping out of a gigantic disco ball in a jockey outfit to dominate her entourage of man-horses into submission.

yeah, so she’s still got it. the hot body, the bad attitude, the wicked fashion sense, and most importantly, she still has that keen chameleon-like ability to keep re-inventing herself. much like her rise to fame, madonna’s show was overwhelmingly extravagant. i say overwhelming because within two short hours, it displayed every side of her we’ve ever seen from hopeless romantic to coy sex kitten. i say extravagant because of the fabulously colorful lights, entrancing dance routines, and jaw dropping props including a flying leather studded carousel (from which, “like a virgin” was performed) and a christ-sized cross (for “live to tell”).

of course the show had moments that weren’t quite so flashy. frequent wardrobe breaks left ample time for dancers to climb down from their monkey bars to deliver intimate soliloquies paired with intense interpretive dance sequences based on some of their personal life tragedies (such as abuse, suicide, and gang violence). at other times, enormous video screens flashed disturbing photos of orphans whose parents were lost to aids, as well as repetitive images of notoriously wordy politicians who were implored not to talk, or speak.

anyone who was there will undoubtedly rave about the over the top “hung up” finale in all it’s gold mylar balloon, roller disco glory. they will tell you about old favorites like “erotic,” “la isla bonita” and “lucky star” all performed saturday night fever style. but for me, the best moment was the controversial yet stunning “isaac.”

have you confessed?: http://www.madonna.com/

**buy it at insound!**

photo by: kenyon hopkin.

entitled persons crossing.

person: entitled.
if it weren’t for the name, you might never guess that person is actually a one man band. self righteously titling his experimental solo debut entitled, miguel lacsamana (of the dc spacefolk band, stamen & pistils) seems to be begging for critics and indiesnobs alike to put him in his place. fortunately, lacsamana’s innovative fusion of electropop and hip hop is both confident and cool. smart ass synth-soaked raps rock like the bastard child of a sleazy one night stand between alison goldfrapp and har mar superstar. embodying the entire album’s concept, “you ain’t hot” is a sultry rip on everyone from the pussycat dolls to their glitzy club-girl fanbase, which includes just the type of girls who might be willing to spill out of their tube tops drunk dancing to such songs on a saturday night. now this is the kind of ironic exploitation you can really get down to.

go ahead, hit that shit: http://www.myspace.com/personmusic

the hand that bleeds.

nin, bauhaus, peaches
@ jones beach
6.17.06.

nin set list: somewhat damaged, you know what you are?, sin, terrible lie, march of the pigs, the frail/the wretched, closer, burn, gave up, help me i am in hell, non-entity, only, wish, la mer, into the void, the big come down, dead souls, suck, get down make love, down in it, hurt, the hand that feeds, head like a hole.

peaches’ triple xxx antics appall the hot pants off some unsuspecting early arrivals. not to be upstaged, peter murphy then swoons around stage in a cape to perform bauhaus' well known "bela lugosi’s dead" and show off his shadows mysterious ability to morph into that of a bird.

nin take the stage and i immediately feel a pang of shame that i could be this excited to see a band that i haven’t really connected with since 1994. i mean, i don’t want to speak for everyone (but i will) when i say that it’s sort of embarrassing that after all these years, we all secretly remember the words to “hurt” and even more secretly still feel trent’s pain. if you were there, you probably know what i’m talking about. if you weren’t, here’s what you missed: mesmerizing lights that at different times looked like carbonation, smoke, and blood!, a surprisingly inclusive set list, and an overwhelming turnout from the overgrown darkwave crowd (which made me ask myself whether i only make fun of them because i’m jealous that within the confines of their own distorted social circle it’s acceptable for them to leave the house looking black and dead the way i feel every day when i wake up and go to work).

best song i barely knew existed: "the big come down."
best songs period: "wish," "get down make love."


you can have it all: http://www.nin.com/

**buy it at insound!**

photo by: kenyon hopkin.

r-e-s-p-e-k-t her.

regina spektor: begin to hope.

a few years ago, following a visit to a certain SUNY school in the middle of nowhere, a friend of mine slipped a rather bland looking cd into my overnight bag, insisting i listen, as this particular alum put all other folk femmes to shame. sure enough, my entire car full of friends and i all fell pretty immediately in love with the spoken-word, rap, folk, rock ramblings of the lovely and then unknown regina spektor. since then, spektor has gone on to release the acclaimed soviet kitsch, which landed her an unlikely gig touring with the strokes.

if you’re new to the sounds of spektor, imagine a recipe which calls for two cups fionna apple, two cups ani difranco, one cup tori amos, and a sprinkling of imogen heap. now glaze with honey and leave to cool on your brooklyn fire escape. but if you’re already familiar, then you’ll note that her first release since her seemingly overnight success plays it safe. sure “begin to hope” shows growth and promise and all that good stuff. however, along with that progression, her previously untouched charms have been tampered with, muddled by grunge-drenched bass lines, and drowned in moments of pop/rock fluff. but hey, maturity is awkward like that sometimes. fortunately, spektor remains innovative enough to see her through her mild growing pains.

tracks to respect: samson, fidelity, better, après moi.

play spektris, not tetris: http://www.reginaspektor.com/

my pet rock.

be your own pet: s/t.

after taunting us all with a handful of wild singles, nashville punks, be your own pet, have released their self-titled full length debut. yeah yeah yeah, they sound an awful lot like another female-fronted dance punk band we all know and love (though, if you ask me, jemina’s vocals tilt more to the cinder block side). anyway, their killer combination of infectious punk and silly but strong songwriting (apparent in titles like bicycle, bicycle, you are my bicycle and we will vaction, you can be my parasol) is pretty much irresistable. with so many bands taking themselves more seriously than they should, you'll appreciate that be your own pet are seriously fuuuuuun. heavy petting tracks: adventure, bog, we will vacation you will be my parasol.

for adventure: http://www.myspace.com/beyourownpetmusic

**buy it at insound!**

how to keep your dance-band happy.

the cosmopolitans: wild moose party.

do you ever want to drop acid and travel in your mind back to a better time, probably before you were even born, when musicians weren’t ashamed to let loose and make cool-looking fools out of themselves? if so, then perhaps you should break out your best flip-wig and give the cosmopolitan’s wild moose party a spin.

the album doesn’t contain any new music, but it might sound new to you if you weren’t hip enough to swing with the new nyc new-wave crowd back in 1980. so who the hell are the cosmopolitans? just two downright groovy chicks jamie k. sims and nel moore whose north carolina based experimental dance troop turned into an awesome party band, in which the girls sang, played keyboards and harmonica, hand clapped, baton twirled, and danced their asses off, in front of a slew of different drummers.

the girl’s sound has an obvious b52’s wild side, but is backed with a cutesy tongue in cheek feminist attitude (think thee headcoatees and/or the slits). the compilation is genuinely old school, collecting studio sessions as well as live performances, including their best known single, (how to keep your) husband happy, (inspired by the notorious debbie drake fitness album with the same name), and my personal favorite, chevy baby, a weirdly voiced tale of a new york post-ly “true” story of a couple who trades in their baby for a chevy. hey, sounds like a good deal to me.

since it's not really 1980, you can check them out on myspace: http://www.myspace.com/thecosmopolitans

oh, they're still alive.

pearl jam + my morning jacket
@ continental airlines arena
6.01.06.
set list:

eddie vedder: hide your love away.

my morning jacket: it makes no difference (w/ eddie vedder), off the record, what a wonderful man, gideon, wordless chorus, o is the one that is real, one big holiday, anytime, magheeta.

pearl jam: severed hand, corduroy, world wide suicide, do the evolution, marker in the sand, given to fly, dissident, evenflow, army reserve, immortality, green disease, not for you/modern girl, alone, jeremy, why go, life wasted, rearviewmirror.

encore 1: wasted reprise, man of the hour, come back, footsteps, once, alive.

encore 2: last exit, comatose, leatherman, glorified g, leash, baba o’riley, indifference.

say what you will about pearl jam, but they’ve got a knack for picking top of the line supporting acts (buzzcocks, death cab for cutie, sleater-kinney). my morning jacket are no exception to this rule. though relatively unknown within the realm of aging post-collegiate jock-rockers, they managed to impress a good majority of the anxious crowd, spreading their louisville charm, in the form of delicious harmonies (including the jim james/eddie vedder collaboration on the band’s, “it makes no difference”) and country rock breakdowns.



pearl jam then took the same stage where i first saw them perform over ten years ago, and wasted no time delving deep into the hard rock heart of their new material. luckily the fan-club heavy audience was fully prepared to sing along with even the newest songs. and this loyalty paid off, when the band later broke out their big hits like jeremy and evenflow, along with lesser known favorites including the mamasan trilogy (alive, once, footsteps), alone, leatherman, man of the hour, and leash. recalling post 9/11 jeers for their anti-bush politics, as well as the now infamous sign which appeared in new york years back, reading “play leash, you pussies,” eddie vedder insisted they would always come back for more, thanking us for giving them the best job a guy could ever have.