Blogs

Better Than: Remembering the misled late-'90s mainstream notion of the Mighty Mighty Bosstones supposedly epitomizing ska.

Better Than: Actually regressing back to 1999.

Better Than: Getting home in time for Robot Chicken.

The current Dethklok tour, which landed at Pompano Beach Amphitheater this past Sunday, was a work of booking genius. A headlining set by a band birthed on Cartoon Network's Adult Swim block got kiddies -- literally -- in and headbanging to quality metal. (Seriously, imagine the future coolness of someone who could count Mastodon as one of his or her first shows.) And the high-in-underground-cred acts -- High on Fire in an amphitheater! -- lured in those of us who might not otherwise head out to see a band that, while wildly (if weirdly) popular, is essentially based on a parody cartoon.

As such, the age spread was wide at Sunday's show, and the crowd was one of the most robust I've seen at the venue, despite incessant wind and on-and-off drizzle. Things started way early (perhaps to get fans in home to watch Adult Swim?), actually, maybe a little too early. Gnarly Oakland heshers High on Fire went on at 6:30 p.m. on the dot. It was a far cry from the previous settings in which they payed South Florida, in the club settings of Revolution and Churchill's. They adapted well. For just three guys, their sound was pure muscle and power. It was also markedly less dark than it has been in recordings, and noticeably sped up. Nearly ever song seemed to match the almost-punk clip of "Rumors of War," from the band's last studio album, Death is this Communion, which also served as the set closer.

The Fillmore Miami Beach
November 3, 2009

Better Than: Having to actually live the '90s all over again.

It must be terribly difficult for a singer to be inextricably linked to a particular decade, especially when said singer begins to realize that nothing they do will ever be as big or as bestselling or as widely embraced as what they did to make a name for themselves in the first place.

Such must be the case for Jewel, whose 1995 LP Pieces of You not only became one of the '90s most identifiable albums; it was one of the decade's all-time bestsellers.

Well, it's been a long time since "Who Will Save Your Soul" and "You Were Meant for Me" and "Foolish Games" dominated the airwaves. And it's highly unlikely Jewel will ever again sell 12 million copies of a record right outta the gate. That's not to say there haven't been some semi notable successes since then -- 1998's "Hands" (from Spirit), '01's "Standing Still" (from This Way), a book here (Chasing Down the Dawn), and a dance hit there ("Serve the Ego"). But in many respects Jewel seems destined to be the girl who sang a certain set of songs way back when.

Which is why it was tremendously inspiring to see Jewel show up at the Fillmore Gleason with nothing but three guitars and a vase of flowers, and then dive into a set of songs that had very little to do with the way back machine. Oh sure, she did do "Hands," of course, and a relatively speedy "Standing Still." And I'm sure she eventually sang those blockbuster hits of hers too. But we didn't stick around to hear yesterdays; we were quite content thank you to take Jewel as she is right this minute.

?This past weekend I made a belated first visit to Pulp Live, the venue on Oakland Park Boulevard that was known previously as the Metal Factory. I went to see friends play, so I won't review the actual music that night. When I go to a show to support a friend, I usually go as a "civilian," as it were -- I pay my cover charge if I need to, chill, and enjoy the experience without scribbling notes. 

I truly want to like this place, as it's a legit venue -- not a warehouse or other makeshift space -- that hosts shows put together by local bands and promoters. The location is pretty central for Broward folks (and not too horrible of a haul from Miami), and you can be just 18 to go here, not 21. And normally I wouldn't bother reviewing a venue itself, but I left completely annoyed with this place's treatment of both performers and patrons, so here goes.

First, there are the aesthetic changes from its old incarnation. Nothing can be done about the building's cheesy reflective exterior, which is shares with an adult shop. The inside, though, has been cheesed up as well. As a warning before I went, a friend described it as "dinner theater gone bad," which is pretty accurate. Where the Metal Factory was your typical black-box rock vibe inside, now there is tacky ambient lighting and theme diner-style record covers and posters stapled at angles on the walls and ceilings.