9/30/07

War on Drugs

Philadelphia Weekly
August 1, 2007

Live Music

War on Drugs
Wed., Aug. 8, 8pm. $8. With Shortstack, Garland of Hours + Levee Drivers. Khyber, 56 S. Second St. 215.238.5888. www.thekhyber.com

With their dual drummer assault and Adam Granduciel’s mad scientist approach to loops and sampling, War on Drugs come across like a mix of the E Street Band on acid and Dylan backed by Can.

For a band that’s put a gargantuan amount of effort into solidifying its sound, it’s eerie how often the wheels seem to be falling off midsong during their live sets.

And therein lies the beauty of the War on Drugs. In the same-named government-led attack on suburban hippies and harmless potheads, even the best laid plans go awry.

Unlike Uncle Sam, though, the band comes packin’ Kurt Vile’s vocals to retrack the train a moment before a disastrous derailment. (Joshua Valocchi)



9/27/07

Plastic Little's Dopeness Video

Philadelphia Weekly
August 1, 2007

Pop Rocks

Plastic Little’s “Dopeness” Video

Philadelphia’s Plastic Little are in danger of being taken seriously.

To be clear, it certainly won’t be their lyrics that propel them to such heights. Though informative in a ghetto fabulous sense (“Crambodia,” for instance, defined a “banana boat” as “a lotta coke.” Who knew?), they’re not exactly earth-shattering.

Plastic Little’s videos, on the other hand, have created quite a stir. The latest is “Dopeness,” a delightfully absurd flight of fancy that follows “Dr.” Kurt Hunte on his medical rounds, including a stop-off in the delivery room where he oversees the birth of his own child. Which is to say he gives birth to himself as fellow MCs Michael Stern and (PW contributor) Jayson Scott Musson flank him, laboring through their own births. Which is to say that all three of them are shown with their own heads emerging from their own vaginas.

The whole shebang leads to a Broadway musical-inspired finale complete with dancing pink-wigged nurses (several in drag) and a near-perfectly executed baby toss in place of the final kick line. Obviously, it’s not the nature of the video that threatens PL’s silly reputation, but the hint of professionalism in the cut’s execution.

On the other hand, the opening line of “Dopeness”—“Gimme poonanny, wah, poonanny”—should effectively steer them clear of family-friendly status. (Joshua Valocchi)



Gift of Gab

PLAY Magazine
July 30, 2007

COVER STORY
Defenders of Hip Hop

Gift of Gab talks about the glory days of hip hop what's wrong with rap today

"The new generation of hip-hoppers and rappers just didn't grow up with the sense of culture we have... to them, it's just a business; a way of making money."

Sadly, truer words haven't been spoken. Sadder yet is the fact that these words were uttered by Gift of Gab, one-half of the inimitable Blackalicious crew and-one third of Friday's crazy sick hip-hop throwdown at the Filmore at the TLA.

To hear such negativity emanating from one of the genre's ambassadors of social consciousness is somewhat dismaying. On the other hand, his follow-up lends a bit of credence to hip-hoptimists.

"Hip hop is simply in the downward turn of its cycle right now. I have no doubt it will right itself."

A glimmer of hope emerges from the depths of the abyss.

Let's be honest here - hip hop is not riding the crest of a wave of positive publicity these days. Gangsta rap and the Dirty South thugs have ensured this, giving the genre quite a shiner as of late.

That, my friends, is a damn shame.

"When we were growing up, hip hop was more than an industry," says Gab. "It was an institution. You had your elements: graffiti writers, breakdancers, MCs and DJs. It was a culture we came to embrace. We were all in it together. Nowadays it's like a cash-based competition. That completely destroys the spirit of hip hop's origins."

When I tell strangers I write about hip hop, the sledge hammer of judgment is almost palpable. Immediately, I feel the weight of a thousand DMXs and 50 Cents crashing about me. It's truly disheartening.

Until, that is, I go home and plant some Blackalicious or Aceyalone in my disc changer and actually LISTEN to what these cats have to say. The power of the spoken word is magnified dramatically when put to music and this is a fact that is not lost on these gentlemen.

"When we were young and being schooled in the hip-hop culture, beefs were settled over battles - lyrical or breakin' battles - instead of gunfire," notes Gab. "We need to restore the purity and innocence to the scene these days."

Gab raises a point that's tough to argue. Take a trip in your own wayback machine and throw Wild Style, Beat Street or Style Wars in your Netflix queue. The pureness of hip hop's true and original essence oozes through these flicks enough to render even the casual observer misty-eyed over the lost sense of innocence in Black urban culture.

The way things have progressed, even the color barrier has been effectively shattered in hip hop.

One of the genre's most successful groups, the Beastie Boys, are three white Jewish boys from Brooklyn and one of the more controversial contemporary rappers, Eminem, is a pasty white kid from Detroit.

As another famous Jew said, "The times, they are a-changin'."

Unfortunately, Bob Dylan's words do little to repair the gaping hole that remains in hip hop's guest room wall in the house of American music.

The thuggery and gangsta attitudes still rule the roost in the hip hop pantheon and the bitches and bling still overshadow the positivity and lyrical trickery showcased by the likes of Gift of Gab and Aceyalone.

Hopefully that Dylan cat had a point. Perhaps the times, well, they are STILL a-changin' and hip hop will finally snitch on its own, snuffing out the pessimists and deadbeats that so effectively stifle the positive messages put forth by cultural advocates like those featured on Friday's stage.

Hell, maybe the youth - and not just the urban (read: black) - will latch on to such tunes as Blackalicious's Chemical Calisthenics as a means to mnemonically devise the Periodic Table.

Then again, maybe it's all a pipe dream. Maybe I'll be forced to continually defend my decision to dedicate my life to writing about hip hop. Maybe Aceyalone will eventually have to accept a technical writing gig and perhaps Gab will be whittled down to doing voice-overs to pay the bills.

Somehow, though, I doubt that.

Gab didn't pour his heart and soul into forming Quannum Projects only to end up as a footnote on IMDB. Aceyalone certainly didn't shun corporate America only to return to it with his tail stashed firmly between his legs. I, for one, revel in defending hip hop's honor as if she were my best gal.

When it comes down to it, there's a certain intangible love that keeps all of us in this crazy (and seemingly unwinnable) game. It's a very simple love of the craft.

Gab may have said it best in Rhyme Like a Nut: I'm rhymin' for the love of it and never for the rent."

Z-Trip
with Gift of Gab
Aceyalone, DJ Phoreyz and DJ Stumble
When: Fri., Aug. 3, 9pm. $20
Where: Fillmore at the TLA, 336 South Street.
Info: livenation.com, 215-922-1011




Opening Riff - The Join

Philadelphia Weekly
July 25, 2007

Opening Riff


In the rock pantheon, trios rule the roost. The Police. Cream. The Doors. Remove one member from any of these threesomes and all hell breaks loose. Enter the New Deal, a self-described “live progressive breakbeat house” outfit from Toronto.

Conventional wisdom dictates that minus one player, these guys flounder like the Supremes without Diana, right? Wrong. Dan Kurtz, the group’s bassist recently faced with the option of trailing his new band Dragonette across Europe as openers for Duran Duran or pledging his allegiance to his original outfit, made the obvious decision.

Duran-squared be damned, the remaining duo from the New Deal—keyboardist Jamie Shields and drummer/beatboxer extraordinaire Darren Shearer—decided there was no way in hell they would put the kibosh on bringing the funk to the masses, and promptly formed the Join.

So what exactly is the Join? It may just be the ultimate outlet for Shields and Shearer to expand sans boundaries and let their licks lead them wherever they may.

Every show on the Join’s schedule pairs the boys with a local duo who share similar opinions regarding collaborations. This one joins (pun intended) Shields and Shearer with two local heroes, Aron Magner (keyboards) and Marc Brownstein (bass) of the nationally renowned Disco Biscuits.

“We have such great relationships and high levels of respect for Jamie and Darren,” says Magner. “It’s going to be simply phenomenal to have the chance to rehearse with those guys. I can’t even begin to imagine what may come of those sessions.”

Considering the history shared among the groups, Magner probably has a point. Past collaborations between the New Deal and the Disco Biscuits have resulted in legendary interlocking New Year’s sets at the Electric Factory.

Rehearsals aside, at least Magner seems open to suggestions. “If you have any requests for the show, just throw them out, man.”

Keep in mind there will be two keyboardists.

Um, Journey medley, anyone?

Join perform Fri., July 27, 10pm. $20. With Aron Magner + Marc Brownstein. Fillmore at the TLA, 334 South St. 215.922.1011. www.livenation.com

Blue Movie Bingo

Philadelphia Weekly
July 25, 2007

A-List

PORN AGAIN

Blue Movie Bingo

Wed., July 25, 10pm. $3. Bob and Barbara's, 1509 South St. 215.545.4511. www.myspace.com/bob_and_barbaras

No longer relegated to church basements and other haunts of the blue-hair set, bingo has been making a steady resurgence among bohemians and same-sexers since the early '90s.

It was perhaps inevitable then that twee stronghold and queer refuge Bob and Barbara's should host a weekly tournament trafficking in chips and cards with (what else?) porn dominating the list of prizes.

What better way to celebrate the end of another grueling humpday than throwing back specials as you slowly fill your board with chips on your way to winning that coveted copy of That '70s ‘Ho'?

With any luck, perhaps you'll walk out double-fisted after winning Edward Penishands the following round.

Then again, maybe you're a little down on your luck, in which case the Hobo Round is right up your alley. Make a straight line of chips and you'll leave B&B's the proud owner of some rot-gut liquor and a can of meat.

The specifics vary from week to week, but it doesn't really matter. If you can tell the difference between Spam and Libby's Potted Meat, perhaps you shouldn't be shelling out $3 for a bingo card. (Joshua Valocchi)



Trouble Everyday

Philadelphia Weekly
July 18, 2007

Live Music

Trouble Everyday

Fri., July 20, 9:30pm. $8. With Prowler, End of Radio + AD Lawless. Johnny Brenda’s, 1201 Frankford Ave. 215.739.9684. www.johnnybrendas.com

In 2001’s Trouble Every Day, Vincent Gallo’s character is afflicted with the insurmountable urge to physically devour the objects of his lust postcoitus. If you’re going to name your band after a film about sexually motivated cannibalism, it’s only fitting to bear at least a slight sonic resemblance to My Bloody Valentine.

Considering the Gallo film cribbed its title from a Frank Zappa tune, logic would then dictate that your band should also emanate a touch of the swagger, spark and unbridled enthusiasm displayed by the Mothers of Invention.

When Philly natives turned L.A. darlings Trouble Everyday visit their old hometown, nothing’s off limits—except, perhaps, a cover of Def Leppard’s “Love Bites.” (Joshua Valocchi)



Vice Magazine's Tales of Colt 45 Party

Philadelphia Weekly
July 18, 2007

A-List

LIQUOR VIRGIN


Vice Magazine’s Tales of Colt 45 Party

Wed., July 25, 9pm. Free. With Broadzilla DJs + Mike Z. Silk City Lounge, 435 Spring Garden St. 215.592.8838. www.myspace.com/broadzilladjs

Throughout his ’80s heyday Billy Dee Williams (aka the Sidney Poitier of Colt 45 commercials) constantly assured us, “It works every time.”

This little nugget of wisdom should come as a slug of comfort for the Broadzilla DJs as they venture from the cozy confines of Sal’s to hawk their wares uptown at the newly refurbished Silk City Lounge.

Wednesday’s party, cosponsored by Vice magazine, features free Colt 45 from 9 to 11, thus opening the door for someone to finally figure out what’s entailed in “getting craaay.”

If after swigging malt liquor for two hours solid you still haven’t managed to fully grasp the craaay concept, just ask one of the Broadzilla kids yourself. They should be easy to spot—they’ll be the ones spinning Can tracks in between Biggie and the Violent Femmes. You can’t accuse these guys of being fenced in by genre.

After you’re properly schooled in the fine art of the craaay, drop some science on the rest of us via a template-assisted comic strip design over at TalesofColt45.com. Hey, someone’s gotta lead the PBR backlash in this town, right? (Joshua Valocchi)



Deadstring Brothers

PLAY Magazine
July 17, 2007

Motor City Moxie

Detroit's Deadstring Brothers rise above the city's storied musical past and make music on their own terms

Starting a band in Detroit is somewhat akin to opening a soft pretzel joint in South Philly. The pressures associated with strong tradition and civic pride are enough to crush the life out of the project before it even gets off the ground. The Deadstring Brothers flip a brazen bird in the face of the Motor City's musical legacy, opting to ignore D-Town's storied past, riddled with dirty garage bands and heroes of the fabled Motown Sound, instead crafting tunes oozing with the twangy Americana and gritty blues more closely associated with bands hailing from Texas and Georgia.

The result of the Deadstrings' brash refusal to conform to a regional musical dialect kinda makes them the Auntie Anne's of the Detroit scene. While they've made a conscious decision to eschew the tried and true practices of local contemporaries, they manage to turn out a product that, while completely antithetical to the expected, is pretty damn good nonetheless.

Musical pigeonholing aside, the Deadstrings do share one trait with their local brethren the White Stripes and Detroit Cobras: they bring the house down with their live performances. Don't let the fact that the Deadstrings are slated as the first opener Sunday night fool you - they come to play and may very well blow the rest of the bands off the North Star stage.

Starving Winter Report, the Deadstring Brothers' 2006 debut recording on the legendary Bloodshot Records label, is one of those rare albums that bursts with songs that sound so familiar after one listen that you're almost convinced it's a collection of semi-obscure covers. Additionally, the fact that no single song stands out on the album speaks to the almost frightening level of consistency the Deadstrings achieve with seeming grace and ease.

Even a cursory listen leaves a strong impression that the Deadstrings have rocked out to the Rolling Stones' Exile on Main Street more than a few times and the Gram Parsons references are tangibly evident. Although seeing any band cover a Leon Carney Russell song seems like a stretch in these post-millennial times, when the Deadstrings did just that to encore after their rollicking Khyber gig back in May it was as if everything in the universe was in its right place, if just for three-and-a-half minutes.

Anyone familiar with the Outlaws movement sparked by the band of the same name in the early '70s is well aware of how Waylon Jennings and Willie Nelson managed to double-handedly seize control of Nashville's iron-fisted clamp on the country and western sound and effectively transfer the genre's balance of power to Austin, Texas. While it's hard to imagine the Deadstrings accomplishing a similar feat by usurping Wilco's stranglehold on the alt-country scene and giving Detroit Rock City one more feather in its cap, Wilco's recent migration to more dad rock and less twang rock certainly leaves them a bit vulnerable these days. Ryan Adams may have something to say about the Deadstrings rolling on to turf he considers rightfully his but then again, the remaining members of the Jerry Garcia Band may have a thing or two to say to Mr. Adams after hearing his newest crib-snatcher, Easy Tiger.

Nonetheless, the Deadstrings are certainly on to something here. Although it may be easy (and lazy journalism) to lump them in with the rest of the pretenders on the alt-country bandwagon, the Deadstrings elicit deeper investigation before reverting to such grand generalizations. Their sound is decidedly heavier than Wilco's and their lyrics are more deeply entrenched in the traditional mores of old-school country rock. They sing about important things like gettin' drunk and kickin' ass. On top of it all, they stand by their words and live them out on stage. The Deadstrings clearly love to play for an audience and they don't shy away from letting everyone out there know how much fun they have while doing it.

Sunday's show should prove interesting from several vantage points. For one, the Deadstrings are opening for Scissors for Lefty. While an excellent band, Scissors for Lefty are more akin to Franz Ferdinand and the Killers than the Stones . Additionally, Sunday night shows are historically crap shoots. If everybody managed to spend their weekend properly, they're unlikely to have the energy to trudge out to the Art Museum area for the concert equivalent of a Shoney's smorgasbord. That said, dear readers, I strongly advise you to kick back and take it easy this weekend. Spend Saturday night in. Cook a nice dinner for your significant other. Watch Saturday Night Live. You know its been so long since you've seen an episode that it may actually be good again. Don't necessarily count on that one working out, though. Just sayin'.

The point is simply this: the Deadstring Brothers may well be the best thing to happen to Detroit music since the White Stripes. Don't deny them a chance to stake their claim in Philly as the best damn bar band you may ever see. The Outlaws they ain't ... yet. They may, however, be the second coming of the Rolling Stones and that's not a terrible thing. Not by a long shot.

Deadstring Brothers
With Scissors for Lefty
and Hedrons

When: Sun., July 22, 8pm. $8
Where: North Star Bar, 2639 Poplar St.
Info: 215-787-0488
northstarrocks.com


Okay Paddy

Philadelphia Weekly
July 11, 2007

Live Music

Okay Paddy
Fri., July 13, 9pm. $8. With Creeping Weeds + Buried Beds. Khyber, 56 S. Second St. 215.238.5888. www.thekhyber.com

Okay Paddy have been busy crafting the new Philly sound for the past few years. Mixing a Wilcoesque sound with Elephant 6 sensibilities, the Scranton-bred quartet have quietly snagged the ears of the local music intelligentsia with sweet melodies and tastefully placed jangly guitars.

This latest gig teams them with fellow local up-and-comers Creeping Weeds and Buried Beds, thus demarcating the unofficial starting line for the sprint to be the next Dr. Dog. It’s still anybody’s guess which band will grasp the elusive brass ring, but rest assured, one will prevail. (Joshua Valocchi)



Catwalk Tragedy

Philadelphia Weekly
July 11, 2007

A-List

GENDER CIVILIZATION AS WE KNOW IT


Catwalk Tragedy


Fri., July 13, 8pm. $13-$16. With Suicide City, Azoic, Peek-a-Boo Revue, Percocettes, Chas Paris, Mighty Mike Saga + DJ Phranque. Trocadero, 1003 Arch St. 215.922.LIVE. www.thetroc.com

The Miss America Pageant is fine for those whose stunted libidos restrict their fantasies to the realm of glamorized soccer-mom-dom. For the rest of us there’s Catwalk Tragedy.

The self-described “Alternative Beauty Pageant” caters to the goth in all of us, encouraging tattooed and “undefined non-mainstream” girls to strut their non-hegemonic and/or protest sexualities with bohemian abandon.

Contestants flaunting their gams at the Trocadero (Philly’s legendary former burlesque house) are up for some serious swag. And any contest that offers a pair of nipple pasties to the winner is golden in my book.

The fact that Catwalk Tragedy also includes performances by Suicide City and the Peek-a-Boo Revue simply ices a marvelously decadent cake. (Joshua Valocchi)


Soul Food at Bob & Barbara's

Philadelphia Weekly
July 4, 2007

Pop Rocks

Soul Food at Bob and Barbara’s

Sundays make me hungry. Come to think of it, so do Wednesdays. We should totally hang at Bob and Barbara’s for bouncer grub.

Known as the “Best Bouncer in Town,” B&B’s resident chucker-outer Lucky (“It’s just Lucky”) likes to flex his culinary muscle twice weekly when he produces some of the tenderest barbecue you’ve ever tasted.

Wednesdays are fun—what with the bingo and all—but Sundays rule. For less than $10 you’ll rock a plate of barbecue chicken, ribs or fish and a few kickass sides to boot while a trio of old dudes lay down serious jazz cuts. (Joshua Valocchi)

>> Every Wed. and Sun., 7pm. $4-$6. Bob and Barbara’s, 1509 South St. 215.545.4511



Chromeo

Philadelphia Weekly
July 4, 2007

Live Music

Chromeo

Sat., July 7, 9pm. $10-$20. With Flosstradamus, Mickey Avalon + Andre Legacy. Fillmore at the TLA, 334 South St. 215.922.1011. www.livenation.com

When Chromeo rolled onto the scene sporting jeweled grills and gangsta attitudes while fronting a synth-funk outfit, it was impossible to take their straight-faced approach seriously.

How can a pimped-out Zapp be treated with a modicum of respect?

Apparently, the duo spit in the wind of conventional wisdom and are brash enough to catch the saliva boomerang on their tongues ’cause they don’t give a shit what you think, son.

Chromeo’s latest Fancy Footwork is the aural equivalent of slyly bringing a skirt-wearing pantyless girl to orgasm on the dance floor through deft digital moves.

It’s crass and trashy, but if you have the balls and the skills to pull it off, she’ll melt in your hands. Almost literally. (Joshua Valocchi)



Puppies Are Biodegradable

Philadelphia Weekly
July 4, 2007

Editor's Picks

ART

“Puppies Are Biodegradable”

Fri., July 6, 6pm. Free. Through July 30. FUEL Collection, 249 Arch St. 215.592.8400. www.fuelcollection.com

Take a drive along Business Route 30 West and you’ll see the billboards. They all say the same thing: Puppy mills must be stopped.

First time I saw them, I couldn’t figure out why anyone would open a strip-mall storefront selling mutts in bulk.

Turns out puppy mills are even more offensive than strip malls. They’re factory farms where dogs are mass produced like Nikes in Bangladesh.

FUEL Collection has arranged an exhibition of work from more than 30 artists spotlighting the inhumane conditions in these assembly line kennels.

Go on, let the dogs out. (Joshua Valocchi)



Bring the Truth Home

Philadelphia Weekly
July 4, 2007

A-List

Wargasm Addict


Bring the Truth Home

Wed., July 4, 6pm. Free. With Joie Venus, Son of Nun + Head Roc. Millcreek Tavern, 4200 Chester Ave. 215.222.1255. www.ivaw.org

It’s increasingly difficult to find anyone who supports Bush’s stance on Iraq. There was a time you could count on diehard Republicans in the Midwest, but even they’ve finally seen the light shining straight through Dubya’s ears.

Well, there’s always the military, right? Especially veterans.

Seriously, they’re like domestic abuse victims who keep moving back in with their abusive spouse—all the time defending the bastard, even to the point of losing friends and abandoning family members. Just so they can stay with someone who treats them like a punching bag.

Well, finally some of these guys have gone all Farrah Fawcett in The Burning Bed and are taking their anger to the streets through—what else—a bus tour.

Iraq Veterans Against the War top off their holiday stint in the cradle of liberty with a free hip-hop gig that jumps off early enough to allow folks time to hightail it to the Parkway for Hall & Oates and fireworks.

Our forefathers would be proud to know we’ve clung to the right to listen to blue-eyed soul guilt-free. I doubt, however, they’d reserve the same sense of pride for our struggle to control the world’s oil market. (Joshua Valocchi)



Illvibe Collective Saturday Nights

Philadelphia Weekly
June 27, 2007

A-List

UNDERGROUNDHOG DAY
Grady

Illvibe Collective 
Saturday Nights


Sat., June 30, 11pm. $5. 1520 Parrish St. 215.765.2702. 
www.theartsgarage.com

What do we have to do these days to throw off the pseudo-hipsters? How ’bout taking the most skilled DJs in town out to a hole-in-the-wall spot ’twixt Fishtown and West Philly.

The Illvibe Collective have done just that with their new Saturday-night parties at the Arts Garage, and goddamn if these kids don’t have their shit straight.

Let’s check the hipster handbook point regulator. Obscure locale—check. Kickass DJs—check. Squatters from West Philly who aren’t out to stomp people to death—check. A location that won’t draw reporters from 6ABC—check.

So the big’uns are taken care of right off the bat. Meantime, some seriously awesome DJs are spinning the underground hip-hop your suburban friends can only dream about.

The flier mentions food “on-site.” Approach at your own risk.

Will this gig fly? Yeah, so long as John Law keeps his paws to himself, leaving this night free to develop into the biggest shit this side of Back to Basics. (Joshua Valocchi)



Manu Chao

PLAY Magazine
July 27, 2007

Manu Chao’s resume is certainly impressive. He sings in seven languages. He’s produced Grammy-nominated albums. He’s crisscrossed the globe bringing his politically-charged lyrics and diverse musical range to the culturally rich, the musically deprived and the oppressed and impoverished alike. He even managed to remain in a touring band with his brother for an impressive eight years with few reports of serious altercations. Chew on that, Gallagher boys.

His most impressive feat, however, may have come just a few short months ago right here in the good ol’ U. S. of A. He somehow placated an impatient and restless crowd of 30,000 Rage Against the Machine fans who were growing increasingly dissatisfied with the fact that their beloved angst rockers were late for their own reunion. Granted, the setting was the Coachella Arts and Music Festival in Salinas, California and the hot, tired and mostly intoxicated crowd had been baking in the desert sun for hours anxiously awaiting one of the most anticipated reunions in recent musical memory. As Coachella is, after all, a music festival, some adjustments to the scheduled slotting of artists was simply inevitable. Apparently 30,000 Rage fans don’t much give a damn about the reality of festival scheduling – they just wanted to RAWK.

Enter Manu Chao. The scheduling adjustments had basically shifted his penultimate set of the evening into the slot originally occupied by Rage, thus pushing Rage’s set back by about 90 minutes. Concert organizers were well aware of the dangers of upsetting a music festival crowd, especially in such blazing heat. They, too, had seen the now all-too-familiar footage of the Woodstock ’99 debacle.

There were brief internal discussions about simply nixing Manu Chao from the bill and allowing Rage to storm the stage in grand fashion and defuse any possible rioting.

Thankfully, however, cool heads prevailed and organizers stood by their lineup. Manu Chao took the stage. Chao, along with his group Radio Bemba Sound System, miraculously not only played a set stirring enough to distract and amuse the crowd until Rage’s set, but had those kids eating from the palm of his hand by set’s end. Calls for extended encores rushed from the crowd and Chao was more than happy to oblige his new converts. More than a few reports go so far as to intimate that Chao outshone Rage that night, expertly and effortlessly stealing their thunder. A night that was originally expected to go down as an epic one in the annals of rock history did just that - but for completely unanticipated reasons.

If that was the first time Manu Chao had managed to endear himself and his group to a mosty unfamiliar crowd, it could be considered a fluke, an anomaly or a glitch in the space-time continuum. Hell, considering that the rockers at Coachella had been drinking all day in the hot Cali sun, some might even just chalk it up to drunken delusions. However, Chao and company have trekked the globe, hopping from continent to continent with their infectious Latin-tinged rhythms and French- and Spanish-influenced music. Everywhere they go, they leave crowds dancing in their wake. It’s almost as if Chao’s extensive globetrotting has gifted him with the power to bring the best of all the worlds he’s visited to whichever one he happens to be serenading on any given night.

Manu Chao concerts are an exercise in the beautiful nuances of world music as a whole juxtaposed with the tragedy of misguided politics of oppressive and controlling regimes. He brings music with a message to the people of the world. What’s most impressive is the fact that regardless of in which language that message is delivered, the music always seems to do wonders for the translation. It’s as if Radio Bemba’s dazzling technical artistry is the Babelfish to Chao’s diverse lyricism.

Friday’s Electric Factory gig is one of what’s shaping up to be increasingly rare stateside appearances for Chao. That simple fact alone should be enough to pack the Factory to the gills. In reality, however, the sad truth is that America’s brief obsession with world music (hello, Gypsy Kings!) and Latin music in particular (um, Ricky Martin, anyone?) turned out to be another in a long line of fads to be tossed to the side of the road alongside hair crimpers and women’s shoulder pads. Unlike those fashion travesties, however, Chao’s music and message has a distinctly timeless quality about it and to allow him to pass through our culturally-rich city with nary even a nod of recognition would be more tragic than resurrecting jelly shoes and friendship bracelets. I mean it’s bad enough that the damn hipsters are wearing leg warmers as accessories. Where do we draw the line?

If Chao’s powerful lyrics and Radio Bemba’s accomplished musicianship isn’t enough to get your ass through those Factory gates, consider this: Even if you don’t speak a lick of a foreign language and can’t understand a single word all night, you’ll dance yourself into a frenzy. Guaranteed.

While Chao is all about his politics for the most part, he can still throw down the jams and the flat-out “dumb-ass party music,” as Beck is so wont to call it. It’s not all Zen and Zapatistas all the time with Chao and gang. Sometimes it’s just about the music and the moment. When that moment comes, and it will – and more than once, be prepared for crazy audience participation and unrestrained dancing. Sometimes you have to just let go and let the music take you where it will. If Chao’s learned anything in his years of world travel, he’s mastered the art of letting the music master the crowd.


If You Go:

Manu Chao and Radio Bemba Sound System
Friday, June 29, 9pm. $25-27. Electric Factory, 421 N. Seventh St. 215.627.1332. www.livenation.com


9/25/07

Dawson Street Pub Sundays

Philadelphia Weekly
June 20, 2007

Pop Rocks

Dawson Street Pub Sundays

Sundays at the Dawson Street Pub have long been an exercise in organized chaos tempered by faith in divine providence.

Although specific bands are rarely on the official slate, recent evenings have found some of the finest local talent strumming their way through fluid, laid-back sets within the Dawson’s almost overly friendly confines.

Guest appearances are frequent and encouraged. Two weeks ago the Wissahickon Chicken Shack regaled the back-porch patrons with three unplugged daylight sets of their inimitable bluegrass. Later Amos Lee and Devin Greenwood popped into the pub for some impromptu sessions, working everything from Bill Withers to Digital Underground into their music.

Trading pews for barstools may be quite a leap of faith for some, but the tithing is right—no cover and four hours of draft-beer specials.

Get out, get religion and get drunk on a Sunday—it soothes the soul. (Joshua Valocchi)

>> Every Sun., 10pm. Free. Dawson Street Pub, 100 Dawson St., Manayunk. 215.482.5677. www.dawsonstreetpub.com



Tommy Guerrero

Philadelphia Weekly
June 20, 2007

MUSIC

Skate Date

A member of Bones Brigade makes sweet tunes.

by Joshua Valocchi

Tommy Guerrero

Thurs., June 21, 9pm. $8-$10. With Bing Ji Ling + DJ Orb. Johnny Brenda’s, 1201 Frankford Ave. 215.739.9684. www.johnnybrendas.com

“Hello Again,” the opening track from Tommy Guerrero’s 2006 release From the Soil to the Soul, is a breezy guitar piece that’s immediately followed by the insistently dirty funk exercise “The Under Dog.”

Both are fitting titles that act as the perfect introduction of Guerrero to a new legion of potential admirers. Guerrero, an original member of Powell & Peralta’s Bones Brigade skateboarding crew in the sport’s heyday of the ’80s, has traded his trucks and decks for tracks and discs. He recently joined the maverick hip-hop label Quannum, bringing with him a penchant for funk, groove and international flair.

Although Guerrero is best known for his kickflips and ollies, he’s been making music since he was a teen, playing guitar in a band he started with his older brother. Guerrero began thrashing in the late ’70s, before skating or punk rock were fashion accessories.

Switching genres from punk to funk doesn’t seem much of a stretch to Guerrero, who connects his choice of music with his adolescent experiences. “Punk, funk and soul are all emotional and self-expressive,” he says. “I think the feeling of being disenfranchised and ostracized leads to an emotional place that few can tap into. That gives the music meaning and is pretty damn cathartic for the artist.”

From the Soil to the Soul certainly emits a vibe of tension and release, mostly due to its unique production style. Guerrero is very much a DIY artist, playing most of the instruments on the album and dropping a heavy hand in the disc’s carefully arranged chaotic production.


“My approach to production is basically flying by the seat of my pants,” he says. “It’s like running with your hair on fire while meditating. Just plug in and go. What you hear is what went down at that moment.”

Considering Guerrero’s reputation as a revolutionary from the days when skateboarding was considered radical and rebellious, it makes sense that he would cast his lot with Quannum. The label has been churning out groundbreaking, genre-defying (and -defining) albums for years. DJ Shadow, Quannum’s co-founder and one of its principle artists, is now legendary among plate-spinners and knob-twiddlers. His colleague Tom Shimura (aka Lyrics Born) is one of the most gifted wordsmiths in hip-hop.

Guerrero says Shimura played a major role in luring the skater extraordinaire into the Quannum fold. “Tom heard my stuff in Japan a handful of years ago. He contacted me personally and sent me some of his stuff. This was long before his solo album, and I wasn’t familiar with his work. I found his vocal style unique. He’s lyrically superior to most MCs. Our professional acquaintance evolved into a friendship and mutual artistic respect.”

Quannum is also based in San Francisco, so Guerrero says it was a natural fit for him. “I knew everyone who worked there and respected all the artists and owners. It was a very organic process.”

When not touring Guerrero spends his days toiling away at Deluxe Distribution, a San Francisco-based skateboard distribution firm. He speaks about the good ol’ days with reverence, but has no desire to relive his skateboarding past.

“It was an amazing time, but I can’t even remember the ’90s. The ’80s were all about decadence in every walk of life. Let’s just sweep that era under the rug, shall we?”

Of course that’s easier said than done. Years of executing tricks honed through trial and error have taken quite a toll on the 40-year-old.

“Everything hurts except my hair,” Guerrero quips. “Wait, I feel some more gray coming in. Pass the Advil.”

Guerrero loves Philly, and will gladly play through the pain. He strives to give a little bit back to the town that gifted his former world with LOVE Park, and his new arena with a distinct touch of soul. “I just hope I can channel at least a small piece of that Philly sound.”


The Teeth

PLAY Magazine
June 19, 2007



Something to Smile About

Meet the Teeth, the latest in a long line of great new bands calling Philly home

The Teeth are like Philadelphia's musical version of Sybil. Well, minus the debilitating flashbacks to an incredibly painful childhood that is. Of course, the Teeth don't project an air of heartbreaking tragedy to an inherently sympathetic television-obsessed nation. Not one of the four band members even remotely resembles Sally Field or Joanne Woodward and I'm fairly certain that none of the Teeth have Emmy Awards lining their mantels.

So maybe the Teeth are nothing like the 1976 miniseries, but they certainly run the gamut of emotion, genre and overall musical personalities. Whereas Sybil's, um, versatile personalities were considered a major disorder, the tendency toward dissociative identities displayed by the Teeth has rocketed the local quartet to the forefront of the Philly pop scene and provided the perfect platform for launching their national campaign.

After traversing the union for the past few months in support of their latest release, You're My Lover Now [Park the Van], the Teeth are chillin' at the old homestead for a few days this week, playing South Philly's Jefferson Square Park Wednesday evening and hitting the hipster haven Johnny Brenda's Saturday night as part of a double bill with fellow local luminaries Illinois.

The road to the Teeth's recent success was a long and arduous one - but one that seems to be slowly transforming into a flat straightaway.

"When we started touring outside of the local area, we were barely making enough to get by," explains guitarist Aaron Modavis. "When we played Pittsburgh a while back, [drummer] Jonas and I were eating baked beans and tuna fish straight from a can inside a tent at some random campground."

The band has taken their touring lumps in stride and at least Modavis even manages to keep a healthy sense of humor about life on the road.

"We played in Texas recently during Austin's South by Southwest Festival and were fairly well received," notes Modavis. "It seemed like we drew better crowds in San Antonio, though. I call it San Antonio now but give me two more tours as a rock and roller and I'll surely be comfortable with just 'San Antone.'"

Adopting a more cavalier attitude to the cities and towns they play may not fit the friendly style of the band members' individual personalities, but the swagger of their music screams pure rock and roll.

From the carnivalesque experimental rock of Lover's opener, Molly Make Him Pay to the stop-on-a-dime tempo shifts that are strewn about within the earnest title track, the Teeth's latest effort paints a picture of a band in the throes of a creative orgasm.

While Lover certainly has a more produced air about itself than their previous Carry the Wood EP, neither comes close to sounding overly "slick."

"Sure, the new disc is a bit more hi-fi than Wood, admits bassist (and Aaron's twin brother) Peter Modavis. "However, Wood was mixed and recorded using 16 tracks in a warehouse with a dirt floor. The main difference in production this time around is really what was available to us. Honestly, what we had at our disposal for Lover was more than we could have ever needed. It's still a lo-fi record because that's what we wanted."

Lo-fi or not, it's damn near impossible to listen to certain tracks on Lover and ignore the painstaking attention to certain details. It's almost as if the band had access to a world-renowned DJ/production artist during the final mix-down process.

"Yeah, RJD2 was in the studio for the entire mix-down," explains Modavis. "He was great and was really open and forthcoming with his opinions on certain tracks, instrumentals and overall placement. He seems to really dig our sound and we're all huge fans of his work so we were truly honored to have him participate in the process in any way."

For the uninitiated, RJD2 is a Philly-by-way-of-Columbus, Ohio DJ and precision production maestro who has worked with El-P and Company Flow, Cannibal Ox, Diplo and just about anyone with a loose affiliation with the legendary underground hip-hop label Definitive Juxtaposition or, more succinctly, Def Jux.

World-class production assistance aside, the band knows that every night in the young touring life of a budding national act is a crapshoot. Touring the West Coast with the slightly more established local act Dr. Dog certainly helps put the asses in the seats, so to speak.

"Playing shows with the Dog has been an awesome experience," spouts bassist Modavis. "We've known those guys for years, going back to when they were in a band called Raccoon. Running into them as often as we did while we were both playing in town slowly drove home the fact that it would only be logical for us to share the stage. Both bands seem to revel in the bizarre and both have similar approaches to the creative process. Basically, we're all pretty fuckin' weird so we figured we might as well be weird together, you know?"

I think some of us know all too well, Peter. Unfortunately, there are still a few yahoos scattered throughout this great land of ours who either didn't get the memo or - more likely - got the memo but couldn't read it.

"Sometimes you find yourself playing to an empty room save a fat dude with a beard giving you the finger," muses Modavis. "Other times, the crowd is dancing, singing along and generally having a great time."

Saturday night's gig is in the heart of Fishtown so there are sure to be beards a-plenty on hand and hipsters love to display their angst so bird flips are certainly not out of the question. If the Teeth come to play, however - and they ALWAYS - - the dancing and drunken singalongs will almost definitely outnumber bearded rankling by the droves.


The Teeth

When & Where:
Wed., June 20, 8pm. Free.
Jefferson Square Park, Fourth St. and Washington Ave.
myspace.com/teeth

When & Where:
Sat., June 23, 9:30pm. $10. With Illinois + Peasant. Johnny Brenda's, 1201 N. Frankford Ave. 215.739.9684. www.johnnybrendas.com


Opening Riff - Mad Dragon Records

Philadelphia Weekly
June 13, 2007

Opening Riff

by Joshua Valocchi

Shortly before offing himself, Kurt Cobain mused, "I wish there’d been a music business 101 course I could’ve taken."

Although it came along a little too late for Mr. Courtney Love, Drexel University’s music industry program offers students real-world experience in every aspect of the business from recording technology to artist and repertoire (A&R) to those pesky legal issues. The program is not only one of the most highly regarded of its kind in the nation, it’s also spawned Mad Dragon Records, one of only a handful of student-run record labels in the land.

Now in its fourth year of existence, Mad Dragon boasts an impressive roster of musicians, including the quickly rising Americana stars Hoots & Hellmouth and South African-born singer/songwriter Andrew Lipke. The label inked a national distribution deal with indie powerhouse Ryko Distribution in 2005, and has since been the subject of glowing reviews in Rolling Stone, CMJ and Billboard.

Next month Mad Dragon drops its fourth compilation—and the third in an ongoing series—Unleashed3, which contains a whopping 23 tracks by bands handpicked by the program’s A&R class.

Drexel professor and former Columbia Records executive Terry Tompkins instructs his students to scour music blogs for the "next big thing" and present their finds to the class each week. The class members then vote on each act in committee fashion.


A cursory glance at the track listing for Unleashed3 suggests this may be the best installment to date, with contributions by Ace Fu’s buzz-happy Annuals, Detroit’s newly crowned kings of dirty rock the High Strung, and Brooklyn’s hipster heroes Detachment Kit.

Several artists featured on 3—including RunRunner and Matt Duke—will take the stage at World Cafe Live Friday night as part of an early record-release party and a benefit for the music industry program. Get serenaded by a long string of 20-minute mini-sets and walk away with a complimentary copy of Unleashed3. Do it for Kurt.

Fri., June 15, 7:30pm. $10. With Andrew Lipke + Matt Duke. World Cafe Live, 3025 Walnut St. 215.222.1400. www.worldcafelive.com

Ocean's 13 Soundtrack

Philadelphia Weekly
June 13, 2007

Pop Rocks

Ocean’s Thirteen Soundtrack

All hail the king of the soundtrack, David Holmes.

The Belfast-born DJ has been slowly but surely wresting the torch from the tightly clenched fist of Danny Elfman ever since his gritty score for 1998’s Out of Sight.

Quickly following up that gem with the lounge-hop featured on the Ocean’s Eleven and Ocean’s Twelve soundtracks, Holmes delivers the goods once again for Thirteen. The score speaks of decadence and depravity, of modern-day pirates trolling the Vegas strip for revenge, kicks and booty. The bass-heavy rare grooves perfectly sidekick Thirteen’s clever twists and inventive cinematography.

Much like Ennio Morricone’s spaghetti Western scores, Holmes’ soundtracks not only enhance but sometimes eclipse the films themselves.

This one’s simply lousy with filthy funk and envious groove. Long live the king. (Joshua Valocchi)



Hellcat Girls

Philadelphia Weekly
June 13, 2007

A-List

my prince will come

Once Upon a Tassel: A Burlesque Tribute to Grimm’s Fairy Tales


Sat., June 16, 8pm. $12-$15. Trocadero, 1011 Arch St. 215.922.5483. www.thetroc.com

Is there a better way to top off a comics/sci-fi convention than an evening gawking at witches and fairy princesses wearing little more than sequined pasties?

The voluptuous vixens of the Hellcat Girls Burlesque troupe host the open-to-anyone Wizard World Comic Convention closing blowout with variations on a filthy fairytale theme.

Wait a minute. Scantily clad young women?

Eroticizing psychologically disturbing and id-addling sex stories dragged screaming from the scariest corners of the European folk-mind? At a comics convention?

It would of course be crass to stereotype the audience for this event as fat, bearded, bespectacled virginal male nerds.

Or to claim that those mouth-breathing geeks who don’t ejaculate in their polyester pants at the first glimpse of a gothically tasseled tit will be flocking to the Sharpie-stained stalls of the Troc bathrooms to practice some different strokes of their own.

So we won’t.

As a special bonus, Skeletor—evil skull-faced overlord of Eternia—will be mingling with the audience and mugging for the digital cameras.

Now that is exciting. (Joshua Valocchi)



UNDRCRWN

Philadelphia Weekly
June 13, 2007

A&E

Hoops Spring Eternal

A Philly-based sneaker firm helps spread the peace.

by Joshua Valocchi

Remember the good old days when kids were killing each other over sneakers and Starter jackets instead of drug deals gone bad? Don’t you yearn for the return of that golden era of urban youth?

The folks at Philly-based Undrcrwn do. The specialty streetwear, apparel and footwear designers were recently tapped by Adidas to design a custom line of kicks for the discerning pickup B-baller. The garish over-the-top designs of the new sneaks hark back to the dinosaur days of the late ’80s, when Nike reaped the benefits of selling $150 Air Jordans, which cost them about 50 cents a pair to make.

The Undrcrwn-designed Adidas line is tagged Believe in Five and consists of five designs—one for each position on a traditional starting basketball roster. Undrcrwn took matters a step further and designed each shoe with a specific player in mind—and not just any old player, but we’re talking the cream of the NBA crop.

Of the five NBA stars chosen—Chauncey Billups, Tim Duncan, Tracy McGrady, Gilbert Arenas and Kevin Garnett—one has already rocked the kicks in an official game. Agent Zero, aka the Washington Wizards’ Arenas, flashed his custom “Gil Zeroes” in a recent hardcourt battle that ended with him nailing a buzzer-beater to win the game. This garnered a slew of publicity for the sneakers themselves, as ESPN commentators spent half the night debating whether Arenas would be fined for wearing the nonuniform low-tops. The NBA never did levy a fine, but the footwear blogosphere was abuzz about the shoes.

Although Arenas’ display of the Undrcrwn design gave the hoopster nation a sneak peak at the new line, Thursday night marks the official launch of the series as Undrcrwn, Arsenal and Adidas team up to throw a release party that’ll make it feel like 1989 all over again. Plans for the shindig include DJs spinning hip-hop party favorites from the 1988-to-1992 golden era of old-school NES setups, complete with rounds of old Nintendo basketball games like Double Dribble and Jordan vs. Bird, projection-style showings of era-defining films Do the Right Thing, White Men Can’t Jump and House Party, and an overall design reeking of vintage NBA-meets-hip-hop appeal.

While the main focus of Thursday’s blowout is the Adidas line, Undrcrwn is also celebrating its arrival in Philadelphia. Originally based in L.A. with East Coast offices in New York City, Undrcrwn is in the final stages of streamlining all operations into the new location in the bowels of the Arsenal boutique at Second and Fairmount streets. Arsenal co-owners Andrew Freeborn and Rebecca Keller will host the Undrcrwn launch party, completely redesigning the Northern Liberties space to reflect the time when hip-hop and basketball culture first collided.

This culture shock runs deep throughout Undrcrwn’s catalog of kicks and clothing. Along with the Adidas series, Undrcrwn offers its own line of court-worthy footwear as well as a clothing line that emphasizes hip-hop’s more positive messages laced with a basketball theme.

One of the Undrcrwn T-shirt designs features the line “shoot baskets, not people,” and is part of an Undrcrwn-supported stop-the-violence campaign. They’ve already arranged for contemporary hip-hoppers to don the gear for video shoots and live performances. Most notably, rapper Wyclef Jean rocked the “shoot baskets” T in a T.I. video that’ll make the MTV rounds next month.

Perhaps this is the first in a long series of steps to bring the message back to the music and the culture that embraces it. If one little design shop can fire the first shot in a revolution, it might as well be one based in the cradle of liberty.

Undrcrwn vs. Adidas: Believe in Five
Thurs., June 14, 6-10pm. Free. Arsenal, 623 N. Second St. 215.627.3462. www.undrcrwn.com



Wheat

Philadelphia Weekly
June 6, 2007

Live Music

Wheat

Sun., June 10, 8pm. $10. With Yarrows + Bee Team. North Star, 27th and Poplar sts. 215.787.0488. www.northstarrocks.com

As the shoegazer craze of the late ’90s petered out, Wheat resuscitated the movement for one last hurrah with the sparse lovelorn beauty of Medeiros.

Their follow-up effort on Chicago’s Sugar Free Records, the Dave Fridmann-produced Hope and Adams, defiantly deflected any sign of the dreaded sophomore slump and rocketed Wheat to the upper echelons of the upstart label.

Poised to grasp the elusive brass ring of relative rock stardom among indie hopefuls, Wheat inexplicably floundered, shopping their third LP around the label circuit for the better part of the next three years.

Today Wheat are a newly risen phoenix, as evidenced by the dark yet poppy Everyday I Said a Prayer for Kathy and Made a One-Inch Square.

Behold Lazarus, walking among the living indies once again. (Joshua Valocchi)



Lavender Diamond

Philadelphia Weekly
May 30, 2007

Live Music

Lavender Diamond

Wed., June 6, 8pm. $10-$12. With Entrance. First Unitarian Church, 2125 Chestnut St. 866.468.7619. www.r5productions.com

The buzz surrounding Lavender Diamond is rather enigmatic.

Becky Stark sings earnestly about hope, love and happiness with the doe-eyed naivete of that annoying perky girl in high school who dotted the letter i with a heart.

Her band dons prom-appropriate attire for live shows, and Stark has invited everyone on her email list to join a worldwide friendship revolution.

It’s exactly as sickeningly sweet as it sounds. This garners fawning in the jaded hipster scene these days?

Dismissing the obvious and quite probable possibility that this embrace is rooted in irony, are we to assume hipsters feel nostalgia for their lost high school years?

It seems Stark’s honey-coated, Nico-esque vocals are sweet enough to accomplish just about anything. (Joshua Valocchi)



Brand New Heavies

PLAY Magazine
May 29, 2007



Bringing Back the Funk

Vocalist N'Dea Davenport rejoins the Brand New Heavies

"Hope you're ready / Here we come / We got what you want / We got what you need."

Ain't that the truth, sister. The opening line to We've Got, the first track on last year's Get Used to It, marks the triumphant return of silky-throated vocalist N'Dea Davenport to the Brand New Heavies fold. When she takes the stage with her old band Friday night at World Café, you better believe it's gonna be a soul shakedown party.

Davenport, who left the band following 1994's epic Brother Sister to pursue a solo career, has never sounded so damn good. With all due respect to the three vocalists employed by the Heavies during Davenport's 12-year hiatus, the band is simply an unbreachable forcefield of perfectly balanced funk and soul when Davenport's holding the mic. Brother Sister exemplifies the phenomenon of a band being much greater than the sum of its parts when they fired on all cylinders. In the early 1990s, it seemed like misfires in that crew were few and far between.

From the now legendary performance at SOB's in New York that ended with MC Serch (3rd Bass) and Q-Tip (A Tribe Called Quest) almost literally fighting to take control of the microphone while the Heavies laid down their signature rare grooves and acid jazz to 1992's groundbreaking Heavy Rhyme Experience, Vol. 1, it really seemed as if the Heavies could do no wrong. The whole ball of wax reached critical mass with the release of Brother Sister and Davenport opted to make her exit at the top of the pile while the iron was still white-hot. In her defense, Davenport joined the band with widely known intentions to re-record the Heavies' first album with new vocals and perhaps hang on for one more effort before returning to her already started solo project. Still, it almost bordered on criminal that she could walk away from such an ideal situation when she did.

Things always seem to have a way of working themselves out though, and last year's Get Used to It and the subsequent touring dates proved that neither Davenport nor the Heavies had lost a step. Davenport slid right back into the thick of things and the result was an album that served as a respectable follow-up to Brother Sister; a feat that the Heavies were unable to accomplish with three singers over the course of a dozen years.

When the Heavies broke onto the scene in London, 1990, the music world was awash in a wave of synthesized funk and electronic sampling run amok. What the Heavies laid down - while nothing new, to be sure - captured the imagination of the zeitgeist in such a fashion as to throw the whole London scene into a retro phase that lasted the better part of the next five years. The movement slowly rode the tradewinds across the Atlantic and while it took a while for the American public to catch on to the Heavies' spirited throwback to the days of James Brown and Sly Stone, the east coast hip-hop community latched on to Davenport and company and held on for dear life. It didn't take long for the west coast crews to follow suit. Following the SOB's gig, rappers like Kool G. Rap, Grand Puba and the Pharcyde were lining up for the chance to contribute to Heavy Rhyme Experience, Vol. 1, in which the Heavies laid down the grooves, giving rappers the fairly unique opportunity to work with a live band. The result was nothing short of stunning and a new movement was born.

Rather than simply riding that wave, however, the Heavies opted to return to their funky rare groove roots and laid out the audio blueprint that would eventually become Brother Sister. This was the album that finally solidified their stateside status and led many more hip-hop artists to look to the roots of the funk and soul movement for their samples. Amusingly, whereas the Heavies pioneered the retro funk movement in England, it was the American hip-hop community that embraced them across the pond.

Nonetheless, the timing of Davenport's return is just so perfect it almost seems suspect. Just when Joss Stone and Amy Winehouse seemed poised to battle it out for the title of England's favorite soulstress, along comes Davenport to pull the rug out from under the youngsters. It's almost uncanny. Regardless of whether this is linked to intention, circumstance or a combination of the two, it's just nice to have Davenport back together with the Heavies. Seriously, the two are like peanut butter and chocolate: two great tastes that taste great together.

On a final note, don't let the 12-year hiatus fool you. The Heavies can still bring it live. They are, after all, a band that copped their name from the liner notes of a James Brown album. Following in the Godfather's footsteps, the Heavies work it out on stage before they hit it and quit it. They come through in spades on the promise made on Get Used to It: "We bring back the funk in music / We put back the funk in music."

Damn right.

Brand New Heavies

When: Fri., June 1, 8 p.m.
Where: World Cafe Live, 3025 Walnut St., Philadelphia
How Much: $31-40
Info: 215-222-1400
worldcafelive.com


Panda Bear

Philadelphia Weekly
May 23, 2007

SUMMER GUIDE '07

Live

Panda Bear

Fri., June 22, 8pm. $10. With Scott Mou + Tickley Feather. First Unitarian Church, 2125 Chestnut St. 866.468.7619. www.r5productions.com

As Panda Bear unfurl Person Pitch’s patchwork quilt of acoustic meandering, bliptronic loops and found noise, an arcing overview of musical influences slowly reveals itself.

From Brian Wilsonesque vocals to layered guitars echoing Phil Spector’s Wall of Sound, Panda Bear display a balance of knowledge and technical execution that demands attention in a distraction-free setting.

You know, like a church. (Joshua Valocchi)

Talib Kweli

Philadelphia Weekly
May 23, 2007

SUMMER GUIDE '07

Talib Kweli
Ear Drum (Blacksmith/ Warner Bros.)

With production nods to Madlib, Kanye West and Hi-Tek, cameos by Jean Grae, Norah Jones and KRS-One, Ear Drum continues to pile on evidence that Talib Kweli is the real genius behind Black Star.

If Mos Def returns his focus to music as craft as opposed to commodity, perhaps he’ll once again contend for that title. (Joshua Valocchi)

Ryan Adams

Philadelphia Weekly
May 23, 2007

SUMMER GUIDE '07

Ryan Adams
Easy Tiger (Lost Highway)

Ryan Adams reluctantly concedes the alt-country market to Wilco in lieu of a sound that poaches liberally from the Jerry Garcia Acoustic Band archives.

Considering the crowds that Dead cover bands still draw, this stroke of genius might finally elevate him to Bryan Adams status. (Joshua Valocchi)



Icky Thump

Philadelphia Weekly
May 23, 2007

SUMMER GUIDE '07

White Stripes

Icky Thump (Warner Bros.)

Jack White, the Midas Man of blues rock, steps away from his Raconteurs cohorts long enough to team up with Meg once more for an affair that traffics in a great deal more noise than 2005’s Get Behind Me Satan, which was downright folksy by White Stripes standards. (Joshua Valocchi)




Lifesavas

Philadelphia Weekly
May 23, 2007

Live Music

Lifesavas

Thurs., May 24, 9pm. $12. With Strange Fruit Project, DJ Marc Sense + 49ers. Khyber, 56 S. Second St. 215.238.5888. www.thekhyber.com

The simple fact that they’re on the Quannum label is reason enough to expect a breakthrough album from Portland, Ore.’s Lifesavas.

Unfazed—or perhaps driven—by such weighty expectations, the hip-hop trio released the inventive Gutterfly last month, an album billed as a soundtrack to the unfinished blaxploitation flick of the same name.

Featuring guest appearances by Dead Prez, Vernon Reid and George Clinton, among others, Gutterfly has the feel of an instant classic, not unlike De La Soul’s 3 Feet High and Rising or Tribe’s Low End Theory.

Native Tongue comparisons aside, Gutterfly solidly positions Lifesavas as torchbearers for the new generation of socially conscious hip-hop. (Joshua Valocchi)



Mice Parade

Philadelphia Weekly
May 23, 2007

Live Music

Mice Parade

Sat., May 26, 9pm. $10. With David Karsten Daniels. Johnny Brenda’s, 1201 Frankford Ave. 215.739.9684. www.johnnybrendas.com

Once upon a time Adam Pierce’s anagrammatical project Mice Parade fit so perfectly in the space between Tortoise’s stringent math rock and the Sea and Cake’s bouncy post-rock that Pierce might as well have been named an honorary member of the Thrill Jockey family—perhaps a cousin or something.

Not one to leave well enough alone, Pierce continued to build on Mice Parade’s ambient electro sound by steadily piling on the instrumentation and collaborator credits.

Too much tinkering turned a once gorgeously spacey instrumental one-man project into an unstable mix of percussive guitars and untimely vocals.

That said, the Parade still boast an amazing live show complete with a Chinese harp. (Joshua Valocchi)



KRS-One & Marley Marl

PLAY Magazine
May 22, 2007



Where's the beef?

KRS-One and Marley Marl

KRS-One and Marley Marl

Hip Hop feuding is all but de rigueur these days. PLAY takes a look at the burying of the now-forgotten beef that started it all

"Hip means to know / It's a form of intelligence / Hip is to be up-to-date and relevant."

And so begins the stitching up of one of the greatest open wounds in hip-hop history. Forget about 50 and Cam'ron's schoolyard squabbles. Ignore, if you can, LL's dinky dust-up with Canibus. Hell, while we're on that topic, dismiss LL's old-school beef with Kool Moe Dee. The one that started it all, folks - all of this pointless posturing that has inexplicably escalated to senseless violence - was the original feud between KRS-One and Marley Marl.

After more than 20 years, it looks like the hatchet has officially been buried with the May 22 release of Hip-Hop Lives, the first-ever collaboration between KRS and Marley Marl. Wednesday night the two team up on the World Café Live stage, with Marl droppin' beats for KRS to lace with lyrics. The impeccable timing of this gig is reason alone for it to go down in the annals of hip-hop history. Add to that the fact that KRS and Marl are both legendary for their live performances and it's, like, WHOA!

For a brief history lesson, let's take the wayback machine to 1985 when Marley Marl and his Juice Crew jumped all over MC Shan's track The Bridge, in which Shan spits, "You love to hear the story again and again / of how it all got started way back then." As the song was about Shan's hometown of Queensbridge, NY, KRS-One mistakenly assumed that Shan and Marl's Juice Crew were implying that hip hop had its original roots dug in Queens. This infuriated the Bronx-bred KRS, who was absolutely adamant that hip hop's earliest days were spent in the South Bronx. Thus KRS-One and his Boogie Down Productions crew recorded and released the track South Bronx which was effectively a reprise of The Bridge but with the Bronx replacing Queensbridge as hip hop's birthplace.

Both crews would continue to trade jabs until 1987 when BDP's DJ, Scott La Rock, was fatally shot while attempting to calm a domestic dispute involving fellow BDP cohort D-Nice. Out of respect for La Rock, Marl toned down the attacks and essentially backed off for some time. After what was apparently deemed an appropriate mourning period, however, Shan turned up the heat again, taking several jabs at KRS in his 1989 track, Juice Crew Law. From that point on, the two waged war occasionally until both appeared together in a mid-1990s Sprite commercial, "battling" one another in a boxing ring for lyrical supremacy, thus essentially calling it quits on the bickering.

The beef between KRS and Marley Marl was not so easily quashed, however. While neither has received the attention of the Jay-Zs and Snoop Dogs of the genre for the better part of the past decade or so, both are highly regarded in hip-hop circles as innovators and originators of their respective crafts. KRS-One is often named as the greatest MC of all time and even those in the know who give that nod to the inimitable Rakim, still give KRS his props as representing the true essence of an MC. As for Marley Marl, his production skills are unrivaled even today - an admirable feat considering the advances in technology and astronomical increases in hip-hop production budgets since Marl's humble beginnings with the Juice Crew.

When the two rivals announced early last year that they would be collaborating on a full-length album, the impact on the hip-hop world was not unlike that of a lone raindrop hitting the Pacific Ocean. However, a few months prior when Jay-Z officially ended his feud with Nas by signing him to Def Jam Records, one might have thought that the hip-hop supernova had finally reached mass expansion. That's not to say that Jay and Nas didn't deserve the press but compared to the deafening silence that followed KRS and Marl's historic announcement, I daresay even Jay-Z was a bit embarrassed at the attention gap.

Public notice aside, the final product is certainly one that was well worth the wait. There's no denying that the majority of old-school hip-hop fans who still had KRS and Marl on their radar looked upon the prospect of the granddaddies of hip hop working together after 22 years with a healthy dose of skepticism. Following Public Enemy's recent attempts at mounting a comeback - not to mention Flava Flav's seemingly daily public displays of humiliation - warrant such trepidation regarding throwback returns.

Nonetheless, from the opening lines of the title track to the old-school house party vibe emitted by the closer, House of Hits, Hip Hop Lives comes through in spades and may very well re-establish both KRS and Marl as the mavens of rap they once were - but now in the eyes, minds and ears of a new generation of hip hoppers.

Considering the sad state of commercial hip hop these days, a return to the old ways certainly can't be a bad thing. While KRS-One and Marley Marl may have founded the practice of taking issue with rival rappers, they always managed to keep it confined too their dope on plastic. Beefs never escaped the vinyl grooves and spilled out to the streets as they seem to do far too often nowadays. In fact, at the press conference announcing the pairing of the two legends, Marley Marl stated, "my reason for doing this is to show these kids that [hip-hop beefs] are not that serious."

While such a sentiment may prove to be a bit late for the likes of Biggie and Tupac, perhaps this collaboration can stem future violence. Maybe - just maybe - this album and the spirit it drives home will be the catalyst that kick starts the industry's interest and investment in the socially conscious intelligent lyricism and organic beats that once drove hip hop from the streets of Queens or South Bronx or wherever out to the suburbs and the prairies and the left coast beaches where it has lived and breathed ever since. Unfortunately, greed and violence seem to have infested too many corners of the genre and its consequent mutations have grown ugly and just downright mean.

If two of hip hop's legendary rivals can finally see eye-to-eye and produce an album of such depth and clarity, maybe others in the game can be inspired to do the same. It's wishful thinking to be sure, but what is there without hope?

KRS-One & Marley Marl

When: Wed., May 23, 7:30p.m.
How Much: $19-25
Where: World Café Live,
3025 Walnut St.
Info: 215-222-1400
www.worldcafelive.net


Arts and Business Council Awards

Philadelphia Weekly
May 9, 2007

Opening Riff

by Joshua Valocchi

Let’s face it: Pursuing a career in the arts isn’t for the money-hungry among us. The term “starving artist” exists for a reason.

But living to work is always better than working to live, right? Unfortunately, far too often both ends apply to artists.

That’s where the Arts and Business Council of Greater Philadelphia comes in. Espousing a mission that the Hannitys among us might consider socialist, the Council seeks to “foster and build partnerships between business and the arts that are mutually beneficial and contribute to the economic and cultural vitality of the Greater Philadelphia region.” Basically, these guys act as liaison between the haves and the have-nots, and effectively guilt obscenely wealthy area businesses to throw a few ducats into the arts community coffer.

Some local companies and individual business leaders don’t require guilt trips, and these are the ones honored at the Rock the Arts luncheon. Bucking the disturbing but age-old tradition of corporate greed, an encouraging number of Philadelphia bigwigs and middle-management types devote an awful lot of free time and disposable income to arts initiatives and collectives throughout the region. Hell, just perusing the event’s press release will almost make you reconsider your contemptuous loathing of all things corporate. Almost.

Clearly there are some good eggs out there, and the Council serves as a beacon attracting these angels in suits like moths to a flame. Considering this year’s entertainment—the inimitable Blue Notes and 17-year-old guitar phenom C.J. Tywoniak—maybe the penny-pinching haters out there will rethink their stance toward investing in the arts. Topping off the whole shebang, Teddy Pendergrass presents the prestigious Avatar Award to Sound of Philadelphia founders Kenny Gamble and Leon Huff.

How’s that for reppin’ Philly’s legacy?

Arts and Business Council Awards Luncheon: Thurs., May 10, 11:30am. $50-$125. Pennsylvania Convention Center, 1101 Arch St. 215.790.3620. www.artsandbusinessphila.org