Author Archives: nestandfest

Larger Than Life in 3D

When offered the unique opportunity to view a special screening of the new 3D concert experience “Larger Than Life” starring Dave Matthews Band, Ben Harper and Relentless7 and also Gogol Bordello, one would be hard-pressed to turn it down. So, needless to say last night I sauntered into the Charles Aidikoff screening room in Beverly Hills around 9pm with about 25 other eager attendees. As we opened our packages of 3D glasses and found our seats, there was a quiet hush as I’m sure no one really knew what to expect. Before the lights went down, the heads of each company involved with the production came in to say their peace. The general theme of each introduction was this was not a film about a concert. This was, in fact, a concert experience. We were even encouraged to “explore the space,” (queue Will Ferrell and cowbell). They were adamant that we respond to each performance in the same manner we would had we been attending the concert in person. Now, I’m all for diving headfirst into the groove as much as the next person, but unless you’re providing  some alcoholic beverages and thousands of people to get uncomfortably acquainted with,  don’t be shocked to find me watching this film any differently than I would any other.

Glasses on.  The lights dim. Enter Gogol Bordello at the New Jersey All Points West Music and Arts Festival. If you don’t know who Gogol Bordello is, they are a band out of the lower east side of New York City. Formed in 1999, the group is famous for their high energy and theatrical stage shows. Talk about an understatement. This band has more energy than a five year old on taurine. They don’t just come out on stage, they explode on the scene. With each band member vying for the adoration of the audience, yet somehow simultaneously working as a team and reveling in each other’s stage activities, Gogol Bordello is a spectacle for the senses. There are violinists, accordion players,  bongos, there are even cute girls running around with daisy duke shorts banging cymbals and screaming “oi!” at the top of their lungs. Point being, they have a little something for everyone. This audience is as devoted to the band as any large group of people can be to a rag-tag group of gypsies playing punk rock. This is, without a doubt, the highest quality of film that you can possibly wrap your mind around. It is as realistic as it can get, without buying a ticket to the show. I couldn’t shake the goose bumps during a few key moments. There was one girl in the front row of the audience who’s on the shoulders of someone for the entirety of the performance. She’s donning overalls with no shirt underneath (don’t get too excited, she has the body and bust of a pre-pubescent male teen), but she is constantly waving this red scarf. The red is like blood. You’ve never seen a red like this on screen. Other highlights from this portion of the film include vocal solos by the salt and pepper-haired violinist , Sergey Ryabtsev. His raspy voice is a warm and weathered reminder that old people can rock just as hard (or harder) than the young. Frontman Eugene Hutz has commandeered the stage for this particular performance and holds the microphone with such ferocity and force, you find yourself pitying it. He is beyond charismatic and it’s virtually impossible to take your eyes off of him.

They play only about three or four songs before we’re whisked away to the Mile High Music Festival in Denver where we catch a glimpse of Ben and his Relentless7 having a chat before climbing the stairs to their  given stage. Upon setting one foot within view of the masses, the crowd goes wild. The set is probably my least favorite of the three,  due to the fact that Ben is sitting for the majority of it and rarely engages with his band mates (but I suppose I can’t blame him, he’s playing the lap guitar). But if you see this film, you’ll quickly realize why I feel this way. Other than some choice shots of percussionist Jordan Richardson’ s stomach peeking out of his baby t-shirt and some good tunes, not much of this particular performance stood out. Sorry Ben, I found myself longing for the good old minutes where I had the pleasure of Eugene Hutz throwing red wine at the front row. I will say though, that this portion of the film sets Dave Matthews Band up perfectly.

Ok, DMB. I get it. You sell out the biggest arenas on earth. And now I know why. It’s not that I’m the biggest Dave fan you’ll ever meet, but it’s just that I’ll never be able to see Dave, Carter and the rest of the crew in this format again. Did I fail to mention that this movie is only running for one week? The 360 degree views allow you to soak in every smirk, smile and two-legged shuffle he graciously gives. Throughout this performance, you will see countless moments of interaction between him and his musically-talented companions. From mimicking his trumpet-player’s blowfish face to just losing all inhibition and dancing an erratic jig, he proves that doing what you love for a living is the greatest gift of all. You can’t help but just smile through this. This was the segment of the film that my fellow viewers and I had the most fun with. We clapped at the end of each performance, laughed when Dave goofed off and were moved by the power of every single performance. They started off by playing some of their newest material from the 2009 album “Big Whiskey and the GrooGrux King.” I forgot how quirky Dave is and was reminded of it right during his short intro to one of the songs when he explained “uh…uh…this son’s called ‘Seven’ and I like it a lot.” During the performance of “Why I Am” the entire audience would scream at the top of their lungs whenever the lyric “still here dancing with the GrooGrux King” an homage to the late Leroi. Toward the middle of the set, they started playing the classics such as “Ants Marching,” “So Much to Say” and even an incredible cover of Talking Heads’ “Burning Down the House.”

See this film if you’re a fan of live music. See this film if you enjoy any one of the artist’s showcased. I’ve probably given entirely too many details, but if you actually see it for yourself, you can still be pleasantly surprised by the 3D aspects of it. The wayward beach ball may just catch you off-guard.

The Low Anthem

Dearest Low Anthem. I never knew you existed. I’m so sorry. You folks are simply divine. From the gritty chops of Ben Knox to the musicianship of Jeff Prystowsky and the harmonies of Jocie Adams, these sounds do a spirit good.

If you folks like the sound of Bon Iver, this is as soft and intimate as “For Emma, Forever Ago” and dare I say maybe more so.  It was even recorded in a winter cabin. “Oh My God Charlie Darwin” was self-released in September of 2008 and we are all running late for a date with this band. So I suggest you hurry up and have a listen.

Golden Silvers

I realize it’s been a while. And I do apologize. I went to New York to visit a friend and there are pictures and events that must be covered but right now I’m in the midst of the fieriest cleaning frenzy this side of the Mississippi. So here’s some music to check out. It simply will have to do.

Golden Silvers:

A band from London signed to independent record label XL. The line-up consists of vocalist and keyboardist Gwilym Gold, Ben Moorhouse on bass guitar, and Robden Alexis Nunez on drums.

By the way, how much do you love the name Gwilym? Yeah, me too.

Anyway, their debut album “True Romance” came out in April of 2009 and it makes me feel warm inside. The best way I can describe their sound (especially in the track Arrows of Eros) is a marriage between the bands of The Clash and Cut Copy. If you don’t agree, then you don’t know those bands. It’s actually very very Clash-esque, which is righteous because they happen to be one of my favorite bands.  It works. You can dance to it, it’s not terribly deep, but it could make you happy on a lonesome day. Yay Go Golden Silvers.


Kings of Convenience-Declaration of Dependence

I’m a tad tardy (as in late, not retarded) on this one. The third studio album from the Norwegian band Kings of Convenience actually came out in late October, but here you are anyway.  :  )

If you find yourself driving over 100 miles, baking with friends,  staying in on a cold day, or snuggling with the one you love,  I would suggest playing this album. It is quiet, boasts some very beautiful harmonies and really just soothes the soul.

Listen to Declaration of Dependence

And yes, there’s an obvious similarity to Simon and G.

Portland…the new Seattle.

Hailing from Portland Oregon, Loch Lomond  toured with the Decemberists in late 2008.

I love love.

Blind Pilot. Also from Portland, so much good stuff coming out of this fine city, currently. If this song doesn’t make you want to dance a jig, then your life is pointless.

Julian Casablancas

My friend Maz and I showed up to the Palace in downtown LA around 8:15pm for the 9 o’clock show.  I knew we were at the right place due to the stormy sea of black leather jackets and skinny jeans being donned by the uber-cool greasy-haired hipsters making their Friday night pilgrimages from Echo Park and Silver Lake.

The first victory of the night was getting by security unscathed. Meaning, they didn’t confiscate my camera.  God knows I would have forgotten to pick it up and left without out it. That’s just how I roll. Anyway, there was a bar available upon entrance into the theater, but I’m just about as poor as poor gets and Maz didn’t seem to be taking any interest in the alcoholic bounty, so we quickly found our seats about seven rows back on the left, downstairs.

The 20-30 something crowd could either be found quietly sipping their brown ale, killing time on their iphones or just chatting with chums. The vibe in the place was cool, collected, anything but rowdy, much like the man we were all there to see.

As the curtains opened, there was an immediate, undeniable shift in energy from the (once) disinterested mob. Everyone was on their feet in a split second, literally shouting at the top of their lungs. We’re talking Beatles,  Ed Sullivan Show, 1964-type excitement.  Now, being the mega-star that he is, you might think that Julian would be used to this type of welcome. But from the moment he sheepishly walked to the front of the stage, you knew that this show was different. This was special. He was vulnerable. He was thankful. There was a genuine look of relief when he realized how excited his fans were to see him again. He placed his hands together as if praying  and thanking us for the salvation of acceptance. He looked weathered, slightly tired, but had a younger and more innocent aura than I was anticipating. See I’ve never actually seen The Strokes live, I’ve been listening to them for the past six years or so and never had a true desire to shell out the dough for a performance. There have been too many mediocre reviews of their concerts. Too many rumors of Julian producing sub-par performances due to inebriation and basic lack of respect for his fans.  I didn’t want any part of that, but when my buddy told me he had an extra ticket for this show, I figured I’d give it a shot. And am very glad I did.

For the first time in his musical career, Casablancas wasn’t sharing the spotlight, this concert was his baby and he was going to revel in the new life he created and cradle it until it coo’d.

If you know anything about The Strokes then you know their distinct sound;  Fabrizio Moretti pounding and slicing the drum beats through the “in your face/come hither” guitars as to create excitable stress, but backing off just enough to give gracious respite and keep you coming back for more. Casablancas’ solo work seems more free-form, less controlled, allowing his youth and honesty to take front and center. The synthesized melodies could send any 80′s pop expert into a whirlwind of nostalgia.  “I wish air clouds could hold me up, Like I thought as a child growing up,” he sang on “Tourist,” one of my favorite performances of the night.

In between songs, Casablancas conversed with the crowd. So relaxed, so smooth, what a dangerous man. “F@#%in’  LA, man. F@#%in’   Ellllll Laaaaaay,” he crooned and giggled after the first song, as if we were college buddies he hadn’t seen in a few years.

A treat in the night came about five songs in when, after finishing up, Casablancas looked to the crowd and stated that the band would be back in  five minutes. No one had any idea what was going on. Was that a self-implemented encore? I don’t know. Do you know? You don’t know. Great. But sure enough, no less than ten minutes later the curtains are torn to their respective corners and reveal the six-piece band donning white tuxes and twinkle lights, backed up by a stage that seemed to be a cross between the set of Tron and old Hollywood.

Just before performing his last song, Casablancas confessed “this is, in fact, the last one, we have no more songs, I promise you,” which immediately translated to a crowd of boo’ing and hissing loyals begging for more. Luckily, since this was the first show out of a four-Friday residency in November, Casablancas stated that he would neglect to share that piece of information in the future. And with that, a giant kaleidascope lit up the stage to distract us from our new found disappointment.

Come to think of it, the stage was probably one of the best features of the show.  So much thought was put into each theme, as it changed from song to song. We never saw the same image for more than three minutes at a time, a true delight for the A.D.D community (such as myself). There was a desert background, an aquarium, a wild wild west sequence, an apocalyptic city, and so on.  When Casablancas stated in a Pitchfork interview that the show was “like half Pink Floyd laser light show” he wasn’t kidding around. Mind blowing and such a welcomed retreat from anything I’ve seen as of late. Bravo, indeed.

Take a look and see:

Dirty Projectors-Live performance for Sirius Radio

Yay for these vocals.  The girls are so prim and proper, take a glance at their posture.

Ready, Able

The new video from Grizzly Bear off the “NEW MOON” soundtrack. Don’t ask me how this film pulled so many decent artists i.e. Thom Yorke, Bon Iver and St. Vincent. The song is so hauntingly beautiful, freaking love the sound of Ed Droste’s voice. It feels like you’re getting a group hug from heavenly angels. The claymation in this video is either extremely disturbing or an ingenious work of art. I propose both.

Also, heading out to a Julian Casablancas concert tonight with my buddy Maz. Free Free Free. That’s the only way I can hack it. I will tell you alllllll about it this weekend.Oh…you haven’t heard much from him? That’s because his solo album was just released. Here’s a taste. Savor the flavor.

 

Year in the Kingdom by J Tillman

Fleet Foxes’ drummer J Tillman’s second solo album.

Just lovely.
Feel it.


Please listen and then proceed to buy this album, it is well worth it.

You may do so here.

Have a happy Tuesday, everyone.

Ode to Jo(nn)y

Dear Jon,

I will be showing up on your Texan doorstep in no less than three months. Get yourself and Charlie ready for some foolishly fantastic behavior.

 

Luvins,

Court

————————————————————————————————————-

The day has finally come. I’ve been attempting to suppress the dreaded thought for weeks but I can no longer deny the fact that my little homeboy is moving fah, fah fah away from heeya tomorrow. Who is this young sprite that has become such a bosom buddy?

Let me just tell you.

Jon (on the left) and his best bud Charlie on the first day of their three day suicide mission.

He’s the type of man who plans a vacation flying out of LA, to Egypt, to Paris and then to Pamplona only to repeat that same trip the very next calendar year. Hey, and while he’s at it, why not cut it down from two weeks to three days. Why you ask? Because he wants to make sure that the flag from the college he dropped out of is flown in every momentous photo. TCU. Go Frogs. On the flight home, he may or may not charm the wings off a few flight attendants in an attempt (and success) to give him as much alcohol as he pleases, with the end result resembling something like this excellence below:

But I’m le tired.

 

He’s the type of man that moves to LA with the sole mission of finding the best burger in town. When it comes to this hunt, I’ve been his Bonnie on more occasions than I care to discuss. He also has enough testosterone soaring through his veins to visit the drugstore before a trip to a burger joint…only to purchase nasal spray so he can “savor the flavor to the fullest.” Oh yeah, I was privy to that gem of a statement last week. He’s a Texas man, ladies and gents. A Houston boy.

 

If I don’t answer his phone calls, he sends me sweet nothings such as “You’re fixin’ to be dead to me” and the like. He has no intention of ever putting the words “you” and “guys” back to back. “Hey you guys?” Blesphemy. Y’all should save some of your precious life.

This man also has more toys at the age of 27 then most of you will have in your entire lifetime. Let’s start with his car. The Infinity G37 is a sweet sweet piece of work. I have come to find tremendous joy riding with Jon. I’m still not exactly sure if it’s because I feel like I’m always on the verge of death due to his stuntman antics and thus feel closer to God than ever before or if I’m just a sucker for a hot ride. Either way, I can really only liken sitting shotgun with him to flying co-pilot with Captain Kirk on the Starship Enterprise. If tire pressure is low, the computer screen will not only tell you, but eases your internal woes merely by the soothing tone of her hypnotic voice. Everything electronic is hooked up via futuristic wireless configurations that have only been seen in such films as Minority Report and Total Recall. And Buttons? Buttons are a true thing of the past. Want to call Mom? “Call mom.” Ok car computer. You.are.tight.

Vintage motorcycle from Australia? Sure. He’s got it.

Jet Blue unlimited pass? But of course, he has his weekends free.

IREALIZEI’MMAKINGHIMOUTTOSEEMLIKETHEBIGGESTTOOL/SPOILEDKIDOF
THECENTURY BUTHE’SNOTIASSUREYOU.

He is a self made man and sold his company before he moved to Venice to work for free at Falling Whistles. He got an incredible job offer in Austin and he couldn’t turn it down. And we couldn’t blame him.

He’s approachable, one of the funniest kids I know and also one of the smartest. He once told me that when he found out he’d be working with female interns he’d just come to accept the fact that he’d have to start farting in front of girls. GLORY. I can really get behind confidence like that.

I feel blessed to have met him. I realize that this diatribe might seem a bit much, but I adore my friends and when they go away, I have to hash it out somewhere. If you are close to me, I assure you I could spill something like this (probably even longer) in no time flat. Jon isn’t close to many people. So when he tells me that out of all the people he’s met in California since he’s been out here, (quite a few, I can assure you) I am the only one he will stay in contact with (give or take a few interns), I know I have made a trury speciar bond.

So here’s to Jon.
Thanks for the laughs, the funs, the patties, the buns. The brews, the talks, those cowboy walks. The lower lip pouts and the tipsy shouts. Drive safe young buck, goodnight and good luck.