This was no interview, it was my dream date.
The Diamond Princess sparkled like my logo right there.
Read the whole story here, and listen to a few minutes of Miami royalty here below.
The footage in this clip dates from about 10 years or so ago and features the Street Masters Crew, who are still active – check their sort-of-official-looking Myspace page here.
The moves are great, but the throwback jams in the background are pretty excellent as well. I especially love at the beginning how the voice-over yells: “We’re taking it back to the Hot Wheels days!” That first jam in the background is “Cheap Thrills” by Planet Patrol, released in 1983 but living on at that skating rink forever! I can taste the rectangular pizza and roller-skate-decorated sheet birthday cake now.
Don't know what the second song is -- someone help?
Third, of course, is “Clear” by CYBOTRON (i.e. the amazing Juan Atkins!) from around 1983… (And of course familiar to anyone who’s played Grand Theft Auto, Vice City).
Whoever made this video originally (it’s so hard to tell on YouTube!) thanks for the trips down memory lane, on several levels. – Arielle Castillo
Besides those amazingly creepy percolating bass and synth lines, what’s even more awesome is that Beat Club hail from Miami, made up mostly of the husband-wife team of Ony Rodriguez and Mirey Valls. They later formed their own label, Electrobeat , and still release music. The latest: a Beat Club full-length album, Minimalista, officially released this past January and available for download (for just $6.99!) on the web site.
The first, oh, decade’s history of the Beat Club is summed up in this 1995 article from Miami New Times. The band’s Wikipedia page also claims that this year should see a promotional tour by the group, but there’s not exactly a wealth of information on the Electrobeat site, and the label’s Myspace page seems to have been deleted.… Well, let’s hope they pop out of the woodwork again. -- Arielle Castillo
Jonathan Cunningham recently chatted with M1, half (along with stic.man) of the politically outspoken duo, and -- surprise! -- he's not an Obama fan. Well, he may just have to swallow it, the way things are looking. Anyways, read that interview here.
Dead Prez are no strangers to Mellow Mondays, but the last time they performed at the party was in January of 2005. However, the group's official output has been kind of scattered lately -- their last album together as Dead Prez was 2004's Revolutionary But Gangsta. Since then, they've been focusing on solo work (stic.man's Manhood came out this past November), mix tapes, and collabo-type stuff. But, a new Dead Prez full-length is supposedly due November of this year, so maybe they'll have some new material to air out tonight.
Visit the Mellow Mondays Myspace page for full details.
In the meantime, enjoy this clip of Asia on HBO, in which he performs a piece called "The Waiting Hour." -- Arielle Castillo
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This was no interview, it was my dream date.
The Diamond Princess sparkled like my logo right there.
Read the whole story here, and listen to a few minutes of Miami royalty here below.
There's absolutely no reason for Mindless Self Indulgence to be around in 2008. For starters, their aggressive, quasi-industrial sound – on paper, at least – is long past its sell-by date. Furthermore, they've been up and down the indie-major-indie label rollercoaster and should now be experiencing their inevitable decline into footnote-hood. Yet, here we are, more than a decade after the New York band started getting attention, and they're still "a band to watch" according to most metal 'zines. Why? Well, a cynical person would ascribe it to the fact that MSI's profile has been boosted by the fact that, last year, their bassist married the singer in My Chemical Romance. Anyone with half a brain, however, would recognize that the group has amassed a serious (and seriously intense) fanbase that flocks to see MSI's propulsive, overwhelming live shows. And with every one of those shows, the fanbase just keeps getting bigger. The band has completely captured the affections of British and European audiences, and with the release of their new album If – and, of course, its accompanying tour – MSI is quite likely to continue being the new band from the '90s that all the black-clad kids are telling their classmates about. -- Jason Ferguson
Mindless Self Indulgence plays with Combichrist and the Birthday Massacre at Revolution tonight, May 8, at 7: 30 p.m. Tickets were $19 in advance $24 at the door. For more info, call 954 727-0950 or visit www.jointherevolution.net.
That's the question British police are asking her and according to this storyfrom MTV, as of today she's being detained for the second time in as many weeks by authorities.
This time, it's over a video that's been circulating the blogosphere for several months that clearly shows Winehouse smoking crack.
If you want a link to the video, go here.
Now she's back in a police station as I type dealing with questions surrounding the video tape. With a good attorney (which she clearly has) she should beat this rap. Hell, she just beat an assault charge last week for slapping someone (although when a woman slaps a man in a public place, there's usually a good reason for it and any prosecutor that wants to take it to trial needs a life), but this video is definitely damaging. It's her. And she looks high enough to eat a comet. I'm sure more news on this will break as the day continues, but as for now, Amy Winehouse and her local police precinct are getting reacquainted.
--Jonathan Cunningham
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Eric Clapton and Robert Randolph
Hard Rock Live
Monday, May 5, 2008
Better Than: Watching TV pundits continue to treat Hillary Clinton’s campaign seriously.
Is Eric Clapton God or just a higher power some choose to call God?
Unfortunately, the decades-long debate over Clapton’s exact theological disposition wasn’t solved at Hard Rock Live where he performed a fine set that vacillated between the divinely inspired and, occasionally, the divine itself.
When you see Clapton, you expect big doin’s, especially if you shell out 100 to 400 bucks, the going rate. Luckily, Robert Randolph and the Family Band opened the show with their ebullient brand of gospel/funk/rock/blues/whatchamacallit music. Randolph, who learned to sing and play pedal steel guitar in the Pentecostal church, came out hard with a feedback-saturated one-chord stomp -- appropriately called “Good Time” -- that was equal parts Hendrix, Sly Stone, and the late blues master R.L. Burnside. Then Randolph switched to a Stratocaster for a cool number featuring his younger sister’s big gospel voice; oddly enough, the song mixed in the airy guitar tones and mellow feel of a Grateful Dead tune. Intent on covering a wide musical spectrum, Randolph slipped in a nice version of the gospel-blues “You Gotta Move” and a forgettable version of Hendrix’s “Voodoo Chile.” (Nobody should play “Voodoo Chile” but Hendrix. Ever.)
]]> Then came Clapton, much to the delight of the large boomer crowd. But if folks were expecting a show chock full of Clapton originals, they didn’t get it. Instead, Clapton delivered a tasteful set comprised mostly of blues standards like “Key to the Highway”, “Hoochie Coochie Man” (augmented by a stellar pair of female backup singers), and “Motherless Child.” In the middle of the show, Clapton took a chair and went acoustic for a handful of songs, most notably on Charles Brown’s wistful classic, “Driftin’ Blues.”E.C. returned to rock with a fantastic treatment of Hendrix’s “Little Wing.” Later, there were hammer-down versions of “Layla” (electric, thankfully) and “Cocaine.” The latter tune got most of the crowd up and moving, save for the folks who paid $400 to sit in the first ten rows and apparently thought they were at a real estate convention.
Clapton sang well, summoning the occasional measured growl. His playing and set list were well balanced, too, although I didn’t sense that he was pushing the envelope. That’s not to say he was phoning it in -- this is the second night of his summer tour, so maybe Clapton was getting revved up, working his way into the Slowhand zone.
There were some standout moments -- like when E.C. traded licks with his able supporting guitarist, or when the keyboard player, Chris Stainton, pounded out dirty boogie-woogie solos during the blues numbers. And the vibe was high when Clapton played “Got My Mojo Workin'” for the encore.
Clapton’s divinity, or lack thereof, is still an open question, but it’s fair to say his mojo is still workin’. As a matter of fact, it’s workin’ on you.
Personal Bias: For future shows, Clapton should play less blues and more original rock.
Random Detail: Clapton’s backup guitarist played his Strat upside down and left-handed, in the style of Hendrix. Is this one of those things that gives musicians more cred, like wearing dark shades onstage?
By the Way: Clapton mercifully spared us from his adult-contemporary repertoire.
- Bill Frogameni
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RADIOHEAD
CRUZAN AMPHITHEATRE
MONDAY, MAY 5, 2008
Better than: Singing about the techno-apocalypse by yourself in your room.
Thom Yorke wears a white linen jacket, Jonny Greenwood’s mop of hair dangles in front of his stooped head like the curtain in front of the Wizard of Oz. Stalactites of light hang over the stage, and as they purposefully stride forward you realize Radiohead is just a handful of small, pasty Englishmen. But the realization fades quickly, with the lights, as the band eases into a set of two dozen songs, most of them from In Rainbows, beginning with the Eno-ish “All I Need.”
For the dedicated, keep reading for the play-by-play / set list; for those who want your news up front, Radiohead kicked ass kicking off its North American tour in West Palm Beach last night. All I can really say is, do you listen to Radiohead, people?
]]> “Bodysnatchers”: Yorke’s jacket comes off after just one song, unable to contain his outsized frenzy. Jonny and Ed O’Brien each fetch a pair of standing tom drums, so you know you’re in for “There There.” “Reckoner” brings us back to the sweeter strains of the new album, but don’t go thinking things might lighten up, because next comes the creepy, loopy “The Gloaming” (like "There There," from Hail to the Thief), and Yorke becomes a spasmodic dervish, his vocals captured and repeated in still more loops.Yorke takes the keyboards for “Morning Bell” (Kid A); Greenwood is amid his mass of Moog-type synthesizer things – everything he plays becomes an appendage. After tooling around with his gadgets (which he does beautifully), he chops at his guitar in muted staccato.
What’s with drummer Phil Selway? Usually the drummer is the sweatiest and least clothed member of the band, but Selway, as ever, is buttoned down and cool. Improbably so: He and bass guitarist Colin Greenwood (that would be Jonny's bro) make a tight, virtuosic, indispensable rhythm section. “I’ve got no idea how much people know of what we’re doing tonight,” Yorke aww-shucks. “I don’t get out much.”
“Nude”: Yorke’s fragile vocals move toward the muscularity of the music behind him, then end in upward-rising falsetto: that’s right, new (melodic, upbeat, and sweet) material. “How to Disappear Completely” brings back modes of alienation from Kid A; “15 Step,” “Weird Fishes / Arpeggi” pick up energy and blast off with “Idioteque,” more apocalyptic frenzy that leaves the stage spent, bathed in an orange glow.
“Where I End and You Begin” from Hail to the Thief: Every time Yorke straps on his wine-colored Gibson SG you appreciate that he has his chops, and we believe him as he rides out the song with, “I will eat you alive, I will eat you alive, I will eat you alive.” “Airbag” (OK Computer) finds Jonny Greenwood hunched (is he ever otherwise?) over his machines, then launching into a bitchin’ guitar solo. Some words about China and their “record on human rights in Tibet” disappear quickly into the pristine electronic hum of “Everything in its Right Place” (also Kid A). The last time I saw them do this (also in West Palm), my jaw dropped. This time, I was merely blown away: Greenwood and O’Brien capture the song in progress on digital delays, and as the song progresses, they start feeding the song back into itself, until these loops have (rather seamlessly) become the only thing you hear, and the band stands still, surrounded by its own sonic storm.
“National Anthem,” and the screen flashes between red and blue static – you know, the world is ending – but then, breath of fresh air, “Videotape,” the mournful, poignant ballad that closes In Rainbows.
Bows.
Encore. “Optimistic,” from Kid A, in which Yorke wails, “Dinosaurs roaming the earth.” Is he talking about Miami Beach? “Just” is a welcome trip back to The Bends (1995), and Greenwood brings typical swagger to his tremolo. Then, more serendipity, Jonny and Thom duet on acoustic guitars for “Faust Arp,” another new tune, with shades of Pink Floyd (ca. Animals).
With “Exit Music (For a Film)”: J. Greenwood plays seagull delay-riffs while someone in the next row says simply, “That’s beautiful.”
Banter. “So we’re in Miami Beach for three days. Fuckin’ ’ell, man,” Yorke says, “what’s going on there? That’s a weird reconstruction. I was proud to be pale and English.”
What’s this? Yorke brings out a kit – snare, hi-hat, bass drum – for something called “Bangers and Mash,” and like all the songs into which extra drums get tossed (not that they’re really needed, but you admire the initiative), it’s a weird juxtaposition of tribal rhythm and disaffected white European males.
Bows.
Second encore. “House of Cards,” which I have said before reminds me of an old Sam Cooke demo I used to own. Yorke and his SG carry most of the tune. Another trip back to The Bends closes the show: “Street Spirit (Fade Out),” appropriately.
Personal bias: “There’s Radiohead,” says the guy next to me, holding his hand up over his head. Then he lowers it to chest level, and adds, “and then there’s everyone else.”
]]>For the sweet spot: At 1:39 a guy with balls of steel jumps on stage and snatches 50's chain from around his neck. Go Fan. He takes off running (for his life), and a stunned 50 Cent, with a rep to maintain, goes after him like a real G. It's mayhem from then on...but when an American rapper shows up in Africa with (most likely) conflict diamonds around his neck and wrist...this is exactly what should happen.
--Frank Talk
BRUCE SPRINGSTEEN AND THE E STREET BAND
BANK ATLANTIC CENTER
FRIDAY, MAY 2, 2008
Better than: Watching Steven Van Zandt on reruns of the Sopranos.
The lines between rock ‘n’ roll show and revival meeting were effectively blurred beyond distinction this past Friday night as Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band ended the current leg of their U.S. trek with an exhilarating, high-energy, two hour, forty-five minute blow-out that drew from every chapter of the Boss’ storied 35-year career. It was the kind of concert that offered just cause as to why Springsteen’s fans are among the most zealous of devotees -- those whose fervor can run the gamut from Deadhead-like dedication to that of wide-eyed faithful who see the image of the Virgin Mary in half-eaten grilled cheese sandwiches. And while there’s something scary about buying into the cult of personality, a Springsteen show does go a long way towards making even a reticent skeptic suddenly see the light.
Indeed, Springsteen stalks the stage with an agile grace that’s part big-time rock star, part cheerleader and part Pentecostal preacher, exhorting the faithful to up the ante on enthusiasm (not that it was needed!) while reassuring them that the dreams and idealism of adolescence need not be ceded to aging, encroaching responsibilities and the dire effects of political cynicism. Midway through the show, Springsteen got on his political pulpit, editorializing about the need for change after eight years of the nation being led astray, but all in all, any blatant proselytizing was unnecessary. The best songs of the night – the rallying anthemic opener “The Promised Land,” the populist clarion call “Out In The Street,” a particularly poignant “Growin’ Up,” a riveting version of “The Rising” and a celebratory “Mary’s Place” – all spoke poignantly and profoundly about the need to somehow cling to earlier optimism while peering through the dark clouds of current circumstance.
At 58, Springsteen’s no longer the manic man/boy he once was, of course – indeed, to see vintage clips of Bruce with the band early on is to witness an effusive entertainer that’s unrivaled in ebullience or execution. However he still retains a remarkably breathless dexterity, one that allows him to swing from a mike stand, literally bend over backwards and take the occasional perilous leap and knee spill. In fact, one would be hard-pressed to think of another performer who can connect with an audience as personally as Springsteen, both literally and figuratively.
He worked every corner of the crowd, literally going to his knees several times to get up close and personal with the people squeezing the stage. Lumbering back and forth on the stage’s extensions, he frequently caught the eye of individuals in the crowd, casting a wink, sharing a smile and making a verbal aside that offered a personal observation. And if that wasn’t enough to make the fans feel inclusive – and most assuredly it was – he took song suggestions from those who had scrawled the names of their favorite tunes on cardboard signs by eagerly taking their placards and parading them around the stage. While Springsteen’s known to personally customize a set list prior to each night’s show – they’ve reportedly performed over 100 tunes during this tour alone – this extra allowance for spontaneity made it a one-of-a-kind event.
As for the E Street musicians, they mostly played the role of support, rarely matching their Boss’ fervor. Guitarist Nils Lofgren, a masterful musician in his own right, offered a stunning spin to accompany his guitar solo during “Prove It All Night,” but with that being his only real instrumental indulgence, he seemed somewhat under-used. Little Steven Van Zandt served as chief guitar foil, mugging his way through several songs and providing reliable back-up vocals. For his part, Clarence Clemons seemed strangely subdued, igniting the crowd with his signature sax solos, but other times appearing somewhat tentative and both physically and mentally removed. The second tier of the band – bassist Gary Tallent, drummer Max Weinberg, keyboardists Roy Bittan and new recruit Charlie Giordano from his Seeger Sessions band, along with violinist/guitarist Soozie Tyrell – were effective, and occasionally effusive, in adding their input to the overall musical might.
Ultimately, Springsteen and company were relentless in their desire to please the crowd, and they were consistently successful when it came to stirring up sentiment. From the indelible sing-alongs like “This Hard Land” and the jaunty “American Land” to an obligatory string of exuberant encore anthems -- “Thunder Road,” “Born To Run,” “Rosalita” and “Tenth Avenue Freeze-Out” – this was a show that basked in sheer celebration. Notably, it allowed for reflection as well, with Springsteen summoning the spirit of Federici via a lengthy story about how as teenagers they inherited his parents’ house after the elder Springsteens moved to California. But more significantly, it also looked forward, thanks in part to a trio of tunes from the excellent new album Magic – the breezy “Girls In Their Summer Clothes” and a riveting twosome “Radio Nowhere” and “Livin’ In The Future.”
It could be said Springsteen is the ultimate pop pundit, one who infuses his songs with a powerful emotional bond. Profoundly moving, completely captivating, Bruce and band’s performance proved that music can still matter.
Personal bias: I was sitting amidst a group of veteran Bruce boosters, one of whom remarked that the level of the band’s enthusiasm on any given night determines whether it’s an exceptional evening or merely a great one. Midway into the proceedings I was assured it was the former.
Random detail: The so-called ‘pit’ is a standing-room only area directly in front of the stage and highly coveted by devotees. Yes, it makes for plenty of interaction with the man himself, but given Bruce’s penchant for playing two – three hours, I’ll take the side seats anytime.
By the way: The word ‘transcendent’ comes to mind.
– Lee Zimmerman
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B.B. King and Joe Bonamassa at the BankAtlantic Center
Saturday, May 3, 2008
Better Than: When you ask your baby for water and she brings you gasoline.
At 82, the good news is that B.B. King can still play and sing with aplomb. The bad news is that he’d rather talk.
At least that’s what happened Saturday when the King of the Blues and his swingin’ eight piece band came to the BankAtlantic center.
For Saturday’s performance, BankAtlantic’s hockey rink was cut in half by a large black curtain so as to create the smaller, more intimate setting the venue bills as “The Sinatra Theatre”. It’s the same place-- just half the size with better acoustics.
Thirty year old “Smokin’” Joe Bonamassa, a notable up-and-coming guitar slinger, opened the show with a 45 minute set comprised of blues and blues-rock originals. Bonamassa, who plays largely in the now-ubiquitous Stevie Ray Vaughan hard blues-rock style and sings a little bit like Bad Company’s Paul Rodgers, found his footing in the early '90s when he recorded some good tunes in a band called Bloodline comprised with the sons of Miles Davis, Robbie Krieger (the Doors), and Berry Oakley (Allman Brothers). Bonamassa’s electric material was good, although not terribly memorable. With his final song though, Bonamassa shed his four piece band and went solo acoustic for an exciting number called “Woke Up Dreaming,” a show off piece which displayed his guitar-picking prowess.
Then, promptly at 9, B.B.’s band took the stage. With old time showmanship, the four horns, rhythm guitarist, electric bass player, drummer, and keyboard player warmed up the crowd for two numbers before announcing His Highness. For a man of his girth and age, B.B. strolled coolly onstage. The crowd gave him a warm standing-O before he plopped into the chair where he remained for the next two hours.
]]> The band vamped in the background while B.B. greeted the audience and cracked wise about his age: “I can imagine you saying ‘B.B.’s so old he can’t stand up and play.’ Well, you’re just about right.” He has diabetes and bad knees, he explained. He lamented the irony of how women seem to get prettier—and sweeter-- as he ages, but how he can’t pursue their affection: “Now that I’m too old to bust an egg, they come up to me and go [insert smooching sound]... Why didn’t they do that fifty years ago?”B.B. didn’t let his romantic travails stop him from ripping into the jump blues, “Let the Good Times Roll”. I haven’t seen him perform in ten years, so I was worried age would diminish his performance. B.B. dispelled my fears when I heard his vocals boom (from the side of his mouth, of course) and saw his trademark left hand shake like a blender, delivering perfect vibrato notes on top of quick runs and sweet bends.
B.B. pulled out a number of favorites, including “I Need You So”, “Every Day I have the Blues”, “Rock Me Baby”, a stellar version of “The Thrill is Gone,” and “When Love Comes to Town,” which U2’s Bono wrote for him twenty years ago.
The old guy still has the chops and the show was good, but it would have been great had he spent less time yukking it up with the crowd. For instance, we could have done without his five minute riff on how to spike Mogen David wine with vodka so as to help romance the ever-temperamental womenfolk. “You don’t wanna make ladies angry and make em’ go on strike,” he cautioned. No, but we don’t want to hear blues legend B.B. King play “You Are My Sunshine” as part of a ploy to get the ladies to kiss the men, either.
“Only politicians talk more than I do,” B.B. said. That wouldn’t have been a problem had he thrown in a few more tunes—say, for instance, the notably absent “Sweet 16”.
Still, after sixty years of recording and playing, B.B. has enough good karma that he deserved the standing ovation on his way out. As he does every show, B.B. tossed guitar picks and (presumably) inexpensive gold chains into the audience. A stage hand helped him don a felt hat and what appeared to be a long mink coat. Then, properly attired for the Florida weather, he walked regally offstage, never looking back.
Personal Bias: Scooter trash dudes should be thrown out after the first time they yell at B.B. from the balcony. Please security, don’t let them bleat all night.
Random Detail: BankAtlantic—or the Sinatra Theatre or whatever you call it—is entirely too cold.
By the Way: In the 90’s, B.B. gave his guitar, “Lucille,” to Pope John Paul II. Do you think the Pontiff hocked it or stashed it in the basement next to a Bernini knock-off?
--Bill Frogameni
]]>Here's the original in case you haven't seen it.
]]>Says Slifkin: "Studio A will 100% be operating and honor all shows that have been booked and advertised. Please, do not despair."
So yes, The Casualties gig slated for this coming Monday is still on, Uh Huh Her is still on, Yo Majesty is still on, Ladytron/Datarock is still on. The final confirmed booking is Joshua James, on June 25. You can check out the full remaining roster at www.studioamiami.com.
Fingers crossed as to what happens after that; sometimes miracles do come true. Stay tuned for updates. -- Arielle Castillo
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