DIE ROTTEN PUNKTE ROXY, WEST HOLLYWOOD, CA 18 JULY, 2012
How do you follow up a project named Who Killed Amanda Palmer? Her previous effort was an LP as well as an art book of crime scene photos
of the subject in question. Not to mention, how do you do it without a
record label? The answer will be revealed fully in September, thanks to the wonder of her committed fanbase setting Kickstarter on fire, in the form of a new work entitled: Theatre Is Evil. Along with a new band, the Grand Theft Orchestra, this appearance at the Roxy worked as a premier of both.
The last time we saw Amanda was her triumphant appearance at Coachella in 2009, at the height of her solo tour, and she certainly hasn't been sleeping in the interim. Finally, all the planning and plot-hatching has come to fruition, and the audience was boisterous and attentive, changing to fit the mood of the songs. But mostly boisterous. It was a celebration, and Palmer is no shrinking violet when it comes to commanding the spotlight.
The band that she's spent so much time praising during the recording of the record lived up to her every boast. The power of the Grand Theft Orchestra was most evident in their
rendition of "Missed Me" from the first Dresden Dolls record, as they
raced between instruments in a divine experiment in controlled chaos.
Among the new songs that made a deep impression were: "Trout Mask Replica", and "The Bed Song". Amanda and the Grand Theft Orchestra will be back in LA in September at the Fonda Theater, and we will revisit the issue at that point. All in all, a grand unveiling...
Amanda and the Magic Conch...
SETLIST:
Do It With A Rockstar
Missed Me
The Killing Type
Lost
Girl Anachronism
Trout Heart Replica
The Bed Song
Bottomfeeder
Half Jack
Want It Back
Massachusetts Avenue
Berlin
Olly Olly Oxen Free
Leeds United
(courtesy of Setlist.fm)
Jherek and Chad strike a pose...
Jherek Bischoff provided a nice bridge in the evening, not only
playing bass in GTO, but filling the middle slot by bringing on a
hastily recruited and rehearsed string quartet to essay songs from his
recent LP. Apparently, he's doing this with a different configuration
in each city.
It was a quiet, but intense set that the audience focused for.
Craig Werden popped in for a guest vocal appearance, and Jhered
Bischoff's work throughout the evening was the night's big takeaway.
Die Rotten Punkte from Berlin did the opening honors, quickly winning the crowd over with a hilarious and charming set that didn't short on the rock.
Laurel and Hardy meets the White Stripes is probably most apt, and set pieces included adventures with bananas, and 'sibling' arguments aplenty. Absolutely delightful.
A Boy und his Banana...
For those of you who made it this far, here's a taste of Amanda Palmer and the Grand Theft Orchestra's newest work. The video for "Want It Back", is exquisitely detailed, excruciatingly shot, and NSFW...Behold below:
Word passed heavy today about the fate of the Fonda MusicBox Theater, with rumor having it closing soon, if only temporarily. The picture became somewhat clearer, thanks to quick reportage from LA Weekly and the LA Times.
It took me years to deal with going all
the way to LA for shows, (with day traffic a six hour round trip), but a
crucial part of what turned the tide for me was the 1300 seat oasis on the
corner of Hollywood and Gower.Many a night I would hang out on the roof between sets, eyeballing the
Capitol Records building, gazing up the street towards the Roosevelt.
With proximity to Amoeba Records and Roscoe’s Chicken &
Waffles, it is/was the epicenter of my LA Bermuda Triangle, and will be very hard to replace.
Some favorite memories from the venue include:
-the last LA show of Stereolab in 2008
-a stunning Superchunk show done to a half filled house, not to mention a comet-like appearance from The Vaselines as openers
-a transcendent Beach House gig last February when the crowd became one,
-the Gang of Four returning to LA for the first time in too many years
-an electric solo performance from the Dresden Dolls' Amanda Palmer, introduced by none other than Neil Gaiman. What little did we know that down the road they would be married!
Not to mention the ones that got away:
-Nine Inch Nails did a spot as part of their 'Wave Goodbye' tour. I never got close to getting tickets...
-Radiohead picked the Music Box to put on their relief benefit for Haiti. I dropped out of the ticket bidding at $350, no harm done. Still regret that!
Got an email tonight from Goldenvoice, who are going ahead with putting tickets on sale for the Cults gig in March. I'm sure they'll have a backup in place, but if anyone can help leverage out this mess, it would be GV, (who just celebrated their 30th anniversary).
One of the biggest unanswered questions will be the fate of the adjoining restaurant, The Blue Palms, which has managed to carve a fine little niche among craft beer lovers.
Hopefully new ownership will be kind in renovations and not destroy the loving recreations of Bosch's 'Garden Of Earthly Delights'. It might be that that I miss the most...
So Amanda Palmer finally got dropped by Roadrunner Records, (with whom she came to loggerheads back after non.support of Dresden Dolls record #2), and has decided to celebrate by immediately releasing a new song! Nice touch is a letter on her blog, thanking the label for its efforts on her behalf...It's a brave new world out there!
Or, further dancing on the ashes of a dying industry...
Here's something different...Mr. Withers, who provided us with the link to the Surrealist Compliment Generator, is using an interesting model to bring his newest project to fruition...Hopefully it works, but, regardless, someone will take this concept and run with it. For more on this, and more eloquently than moi, try here... It's fascinating to see folks twist the new social media to their ends, from building and inflaming fanbases to skewed concepts of touring to actually funding projects. Amanda F. Palmer is using her Twitter presence to galvanize a fanbase across different medias, culminating in a handy dandy IPhone app that consolidates music, her blog(s), videos, etc into a nifty little (free!) package that raises the bar on artist apps. Palmer is also fighting a pitched battle to get out of her contract with Roadrunner Records, using her media base to promote direct purchase of her DVD as the only means of her actually seeing money, rather than through traditional retail.
Both Palmer and Zoe Keating have used Twitter to promote what Palmer charmingly refers to as 'ninja gigs', fun little gigs in unexpected places with a minimum of overhead and publicity, banking hard on the word of mouth and innate weirdness of the gigs, from Palmer's formal dress at the beach ukelele gigs to Keating's performances at terminals in the San Francisco Airport.
i.e. Saturday...Saturday...Saturday... Final word about day one…in case I forgot to mention, it was (mid 80’s) the most temperate day ever in years of Coachella going. The move up of the festival one week forward really paid off, and by the time McCartney hit the stage that night, the temps had backed off to around 60, which means chilly out in the desert when one is dressed for 100. Veterans, of course, always stash a hoody, (especially skinny veterans). Saturday was a return to form, in every sense, with temps reaching for the century mark at midday, and a lineup that wouldn’t quit from the word go. None the worse for wear from Friday’s adventure, I hit the tents to open Saturday, picking up post position in the Gobi Tent for Norway’s contribution to culture, Ida Maria. The crowd in the tent was huddled toward the front, scavenging all the available shade, which was just as well, since the main stage featured Billy Talent, Joss Stone, & Paolo Nutini consecutively…making a stellar case for shade, if not vast quantities of alchohol. The tent was about half full when Ida Maria hit the stage, raising the curtain on day 2 with an energetic set, mostly her debut album from last year (in Europe), or brand new (here). Her band came full throttle, 3 deep & her, and they brought an extra edge to the songs, notably a spirited run through ‘Oh My God’, and ‘Stella’, but the highlight, interestingly enough, was a heartfelt take on ‘Keep Me Warm’, which despite the slower tempo, gained a rough intensity among all the rockers… First conflict of the day sprung up next with the Liars on the outdoor stage…but, having just seen them open for Radiohead last fall, (and the fact that it was outside), made the decision to maintain my hard earned spot at the front of the stage for Bob Mould an easy one. Mr. Mould has already lived a few lives, what with notable bands in both the 80’s (Husker Du), and 90’s (Sugar), and a steadfast solo career in between them and since, so in terms of a set, I had no idea what to expect, but I was pretty sure, given the bootlegs I’ve heard, that intensity wouldn’t be an issue.
First red flag went up during soundcheck…I had made a point not to be directly in front of his stack of Marshalls, but when the drummer test.cracked his snare a few times, I felt my hair move. Uh oh…It was then that I remembered a vintage Mould quote where he stated that his idea of a perfect show was a stadium with his band Sugar at one end, and My Bloody Valentine at the other. I hastily went digging through my pockets for earplugs, but they were safely nestled in the suitcase, since MBV, (the one time I knew I would need them), wasn’t on until Sunday. Failing that, and with no shame whatsoever, I quickly improvised, tearing off the filters from two cigarettes, shredding off the paper and wadding them into my ears, gaining an approving nod from the grizzled hipster behind me. Sometimes you have to do it old school style… Other generational note…at this point, I noticed a covey of teen girls, (14ish), materialize in front of me, which was odd to say the least. I felt like Marlin Perkins, and loosened my ‘earplugs’ in an effort to overhear the conversation and gain clues as to what could possibly explain there appearance here, of all places. I recognize Mr. Mould as a kingpin of the college rock era, a towering figure in the indie.nation, and a building block of the culture that helped first spawn Lollapalooza, then give birth to this very festival, a veteran of the ‘D.I.Y. tour the country in a van ethic’, but how had this possibly crossed down to the teen generation of today? Interesting… My answer came when one of the irrepressible sprites pointed to a quiet figure curled up against the stage next to me, roughly my age, slouching under a baseball cap pulled low. She then pronounced, ‘I’m here for Dad’s band, but I’ll meet you…’ Hee hee. Dad rock, sweet…It’s all relative, I guess…
My reverie was interrupted by the emergence of the band, Bob bounced out, now gray of beard, but buff and ready. He strapped on his guitar, smiled at the crowd and said ‘hey’, and proceed to blow the doors off the place. He opened with ‘The Act We Act’, the first song from the first Sugar album, then proceed to mix up Sugar and solo tunes, including two from his brand new ‘Life & Times’. His backing band was ferocious, and kept up w/him through the changing tempos and moods…
When he did break into the Husker Du songbook, it wasn’t just surfing the greatest hits…’I Apologize’ from New Day Rising was the first salvo, followed so closely by ‘Chartered Trips’ from Zen Arcade, that it’s captured as one…at this point the middle of the tent was absolutely frothing bedlam, and he eased off the tempo (somewhat) with a heartfelt shredding of ‘Celebrated Summer’, also from ‘New Day Rising’, then shifted into ‘Makes No Sense At All’ from Flip Your Wig, and brought things to a close with the title track of ‘New Day Rising’…exiting the stage in a hail of feedback.
Drained and confused, I stumbled to the back of the tent & collapsed, sweat soaked and thoroughly sated. Half an hour later, Blitzen Trapper eased into their set of tunes with a slower Southern gothic vibe, and in all fairness, I tried. I tried hard…I had been looking forward to them, and I wanted to like it, but…Mr. Mould had reduced me to rubble, and I just wasn’t taking, so I wandered off in search of the next thrill…
And to plot and plan…Dr. Dog didn’t make the cut either, and the sunshine kept me away from the Drive By Truckers, so it turned into a food/refueling break to get back some badly needed energy, and in the spirit of Morrissey, I sought my solace in Big Willie’s BBQ.
The five o’clock hour offered the worst pileup of the whole weekend, in terms of tough choices…at five minute intervals, Henry Rollins, Amanda Palmer, and Superchunk. Oh the humanity! Just saw the first two of the three last year, so I choose Amanda over Henry, (sorry big guy!), then drifted down to brave the outdoor stage for Superchunk. Amanda was in fine form, the strains of 2001 serenaded a parade of bodypainted volunteers whose torsos spelled out AMANDA FUCKING PALMER, and then she appeared, and it was on… I guiltily snuck away to catch Superchunk, and was not disappointed. They hit the stage with a high energy level in the peaking sun, and tore up a set that spanned their whole career. Even I was dancing across the back lawn to our generational anthem ‘Slack Motherfucker’…
Meanwhile, back at the Gobi…I arrived right in time for Miss Palmer’s endgame…diving into the crowds to the tune of Wagner’s ‘Ride of the Valkries’, and ending up propped up on the crowd at the back, whereupon she proceeded to whip out a ukelele and lead the crowd in a rendition of Radiohead’s ‘Creep’.
