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Tuesday, January 21, 2014

Live: Solar Halos album release party

Posted by on Tue, Jan 21, 2014 at 6:19 AM


SolarHalos.jpg
We've all heard the meteorological cliché "If you don't like the weather, wait five minutes." Here's a variant for the Chapel Hill music scene: If you're curious what this bassist and that drummer would sound like together, wait five years.

At Saturday night's Solar Halos album release show in the Cat's Cradle Back Room, the bands on the bill all had near-familial ties going back a half-decade or more. Just one example of the intricate web of connections goes that drummer Lauren Fitzpatrick joined Bitter Resolve after her psych-metal duo, The Curtains of Night, split; that band's guitarist, Nora Rogers, now plays with Solar Halos. When Fitzpatrick moved away from the Triangle, she was replaced by drummer Mike Glass, who plays in Fin Fang Foom with Solar Halos bassist Eddie Sanchez. This ouroboros is not broken.

Opening band Bitter Resolve debuted a new lineup and an almost wholly new flavor. Across five songs and 30 minutes, the Chapel Hill trio explored the heavy-lidded proto-metal familiar from their first two LPs, but they also showed off Southern sludge echoes and an extended, set-closing guitar solo that laid respectable groundwork for the evening to come. Greensboro's Irata played a practiced, hard-driving set with a distinct '90s flavor, like a technically proficient Neurot band covering Jane's Addiction.

Solar Halos closed the evening with a compact and often-hypnotic performance. Sanchez multi-tasked, playing a floor tom or jingling bells while sustaining root notes on his bass, while John Crouch punctuated desert rock-flavored drumming with his trademark counterintuitive fills. Rogers, who spent most of her time in The Curtains of Night screaming demonically, came across as a more confident vocalist, with a mournful, melodic approach. This nicely balanced Sanchez' staccato chants in several well-timed, call-and-response sections.

Part of the fun of keeping up with new combinations of familiar musicians is that it's like collecting baseball cards. I overheard at least one person combing through the bands' interconnected histories during Solar Halos' set. During excellent sets like these, paying close attention Chapel Hill and Carrboro's heavy music community goes beyond the musical equivalent of collecting baseball cards. While it's easy to pick apart who has played (or still plays with) this band or that one, there's no guessing what the different combinations will sound like. Solar Halos can't be reduced to Caltrop plus Horseback plus Bellafea, or any similar equation; it's a strong, distinctive band with a future all its own—stronger for its Chapel Hill roots, yeah, but not beholden to them.
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    The heavy trio releases its self-titled debut at The Cat's Cradle Back Room

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Monday, January 13, 2014

Live: Mandolin Orange at Fletcher Opera Theater

Posted by and on Mon, Jan 13, 2014 at 12:47 PM

Mandolin Orange - BY ALEX LOOPS
  • by Alex Loops
  • Mandolin Orange
Fletcher Opera Theater can pack a lot of people into its relatively small space, and Carrboro's Mandolin Orange sold out the 600-capacity room Friday night. The curving rows of seats all but guaranteed an unobstructed view from anywhere in the house, and a respectful silence fell over the room during two sets and an encore, though the theater emptied out almost as the final notes rang. There was none of the dawdling that accompanies club or bar shows; hundreds of attentive eyes and ears very quickly gave way to empty seats. Given the miserable onslaught  of rain and more rain outside, I wasn't sure what the hurry was.

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    Watch videos from the local folk and country duo's relaxed concert in a formal hall

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Monday, November 4, 2013

Video: Nick Sanborn's 'Lend Me Your Voice' in Durham

Posted by and on Mon, Nov 4, 2013 at 3:24 PM

"Lend Me Your Voice"
Nelson Music Room, Duke University, Durham
November 1, 2013

Premiering Friday, Nick Sanborn's "Lend Me Your Voice" program sought to highlight musicians who often occupy supporting roles. All seven players—Sanborn included and surrounded by guitarist William Tyler, bassist Bradley Cook and many others—have shifted at least some focus to their own pursuits, and the night offered promising glimpses of several upcoming works. But what made the show special was watching them support each other. Each is known for making the sort of subtle gestures—a crisp guitar lick here, a well-timed drum roll there—that can elevate a performance from solid to exceptional. Gathered together, they made almost every song feel like a rare treat, a fleeting pleasure never to be heard again.

Playing in the round at the center of Duke University's intimate Nelson Music Room, the musicians joined Sanborn one at a time. The Megafaun bassist offered rambling but insightful commentary on each artist's career before they played a song solo. They then joined whoever else was onstage and played one more. Once everyone had taken the stage, all six got a chance to front the whole group. These full-band renderings were by far the most compelling.

Nashville guitarist Tyler started with a wispy, unguarded performance of "Tears and Saints," a poignant solo piece from his first album. It was gripping, but his subsequent offerings were better. Backed by Sanborn on bass and Megafaun mate Brad Cook on guitar, Tyler turned in a version of "Cadillac Desert" that was full but delicate, punctuated by Sanborn's probing plucks and Cook's patient drone. "The Green Pastures," which he performed with the full ensemble, benefited mightily from moving pedal steel—courtesy of Field Report's Chris Porterfield—and the smooth cries of Amelia Meath and Alexandra Sauser-Monnig. Tyler's recordings—particularly on this year's Impossible Truth—build his driving patterns into rich but restrained orchestrations. Friday, he was able to pull that off live.

"Lend Me Your Voice" was defined and elevated by such moments. Megafaun drummer Joe Westerlund showed off some of the tunes he creates as Grandma Sparrow, tales from his own twisted fairy tale where he plays all of the characters. Solo, he was hilarious, skillfully smacking cymbals and skins as he interacted with pitch-shifted recordings of his voice. Away from the drum kit with everyone else backing him, he was able to accent his whimsy with more pronounced gestures and expressions.

There were many moments like this—Porterfield's sweeping "Pale Rider," Cook's weary recasting of the Megafaun song "Real Slow"—where one player's strengths were amplified by the kindred spirits surrounding them. These artists know well that collaborating is a two-way street, that you give it 100 percent whether you're leading the band or just holding down a steady groove. Friday night, there were no weak links, just seven talented people working apart and together.

The INDY caught a few essential moments on video, thanks to Dan Schram:


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Halloween in Winston: Whatever Brains trick, Thee Oh Sees treat

Posted by on Mon, Nov 4, 2013 at 3:20 PM

Thee Oh Sees, Whatever Brains
Krankies Coffee, Winston-Salem
October 31, 2013

About halfway through "I Come From the Mountain," just as Thee Oh Sees' tenacious groove reached a fever pitch that wouldn't break for another hour, two crowd-surfers met in the middle of the room. One of the dudes climbed on top of the other, grabbing his comrade by the shirt and shaking him with blind elation. It lasted only a moment, as their combined weight soon brought them crashing to the ground (happily without injury), but it got after what makes this San Francisco foursome so engaging: Their ferocity never necessitates brutality.

On Halloween night in Winston-Salem, they whipped a packed Krankies into frenzy. Second guitarist Petey Dammit stoked the engines with sharp fills and unstoppable bass lines as Mike Shoun hit snares and toms with the efficiency of pistons. But Thee Oh Sees were elevated most by their frontman: John Dwyer's crazed guitar melodies, delivered on a flashy clear-body SG, accented and instigated the group's unstoppable pulse, flitting from krautrock vigor to psych-surf flare, while his buds held the middle ground. His presence—along with precise harmonies from keyboardist Brigid Dawson—allowed them to tear through variations of the same infectious rhythm. The possibilities seemed infinite.

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    Thee Oh Sees' ferocity never necessitated brutality, inspiring a very physical kind of joy. Whatever Brains were led by a demon.

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Sunday, September 29, 2013

World of Bluegrass: Saturday's grand finale

Posted by on Sun, Sep 29, 2013 at 3:30 PM

Word began to spread through the throngs of bluegrass fans across downtown Raleigh early Saturday afternoon that plans were afoot for a 2 p.m. "Banjo Flash Mob" at the Sir Walter Raleigh statue in front of the Convention Center. This was high comedy, for anyone attending this week's World of Bluegrass: If you were there, you know that the whole thing was a five-day-long Banjo Flash Mob.

From quiet beginnings on Tuesday—just a couple dozen people dotted the pews of the Long View Center for a fest-opening 6 p.m. slot by spirited Austin quartet Wood & Wire—World of Bluegrass gradually gathered steam as the week progressed before finally blowing its top on Saturday. Masses of grass-goers stretched across downtown, from Red Hat Amphitheater and across City Plaza up Fayetteville Street to the north-end stage at Hargett and Wilmington.

ILLUSTRATION BY CHRIS WILLIAMS
  • Illustration by Chris Williams

If you started at 11 a.m., as I did, and bluegrassed to your heart's content until fireworks expoded over Red Hat at the conclusion of the Steve Martin/Edie Brickell/Steep Canyon Rangers set at 11 p.m., you could have caught more than a dozen quality acts in all manner of venues, from plazas to theaters to ballrooms to hallways. Many fans stayed out long past the fireworks, as the Bluegrass Ramble continued in downtown nightclubs and late-night jams stretched toward dawn in hotel corridors.

A few standout memories, then:

1. Prophets and Messengers of Fayetteville Street

Walking north along Fayetteville's festival booths in the noon hour, I passed by a self-styled street evangelist engaged in full rant with a sign that read "Fear God" on one side and "Stop Sinning" on the other. Turning the corner to the Martin Street stage, I was saved by the sounds of the Iron Mountain Messengers, whose splendid cover of the Carolina Chocolate Drops' "Cornbread and Butterbeans" was followed by leader Charles Pettee's wise endorsement that the Chocolate Drops "should be at IBMA next year." The Messengers—whose members spanned generations from high school to retirement age—proceeded with a song expressing their "outright disgust" at the environmentally ruinous practice of mountaintop removal. Sing out!

2. Rowan's Rogue Band of Misfits

Peter Rowan could have taken the stage at the Convention Center ballroom for his 2:40 p.m. set on his own; he was billed just as "Peter Rowan" and is fully capable of commanding attention as a solo act. Instead he brought aboard a crew of eight backing players, a charming assortment of ringers (including fiddler Michael Cleveland) and lesser-known players both old and young.

Toward the end of the set, he introduced Charli Robertson, who had been hiding behind Rowan while singing background and playing fiddle for most of the set. A member of the group Flatt Lonesome (who I'd caught briefly at City Plaza a couple hours earlier), Robertson switched to acoustic guitar and performed a stunning number called "The Man Who Made My Mama Cry" that brought to mind the finest early efforts of Iris DeMent. Kudos to Rowan for sharing his spotlight; he's proving to be an ideal elder statesman for bluegrass after the passing of icons such as Doc Watson and Earl Scruggs.

3. The Crowning Concerto

Following Rowan on the Convention Center stage, North Carolina-via-Switzerland’s Kruger Brothers—Jens and Uwe Kruger on banjo and guitar, respectively, plus bassist Joel Landsberg—brought forth their ambitous "Appalachian Concerto," accompanied by Chicago’s Kontras Quartet. Commissioned by the Ashe County Arts Council and first performed at Merlefest in 2011, the Concerto is a remarkable and beautiful 30-minute composition, a brilliant blend of bluegrass and classical realms.

Jens Kruger noted at the outset that the performance "may be the first classical event at the IBMA ever." Whether or not that was the case, bridging the gap does have its challenges, as evidenced by the audience breaking out into a standing ovation after the piece's first movement. Jens smiled and noted kindly, "You were not supposed to clap," acknowledging that applause in classical concerts generally holds until the piece's full conclusion. It was all in good cheer, and you could hardly blame the crowd for their spontaneous expression of gratitude for such wondrous music.

A brief encore was nearly the equal of the Concerto itself—and not even for the surprise cameo by Steve Martin on a well-chosen clawhammer instrumental, but rather mainly for a transformative cover of Sting's "Fields of Gold" that Uwe Kruger slyly introduced as "an English folk song" before he sang it. In the hands of Kruger and Kontras, indeed, it became an English folk song. Uwe then brought the show to a perfect conclusion by singing his heartfelt original song "Carolina in the Fall."

4. Chatham County's Line in the Sand

As most of the late-evening concertgoers gathered at Red Hat for the Martin/Brickell/Rangers blockbuster, hometown heroes Chatham County Line gave the World of Bluegrass its finest salute near the end of their set at City Plaza. Leader Dave Wilson explained that he'd gone downtown on Tuesday and took part in the Bluegrass Ramble, coming back amazed at what he was able to see just a bike ride away from his house. Inspired, he wrote a new song to capture the moment.

And though Wilson announced from the stage before playing it that "this is the only time this song is ever going to be played," it's almost a civic obligation for Raleigh Mayor Nancy McFarlane to have CCL bring it back next year as the city's unofficial World of Bluegrass theme song. Titled "Living in Raleigh Now," the tune traces the festival's journey from its Kentucky origins and through its stopover years in Nashville before finally arriving at its new home.

The final chorus:
What was born in Kentucky,
And moved off to Nashville,
Is living in Raleigh now.

If Saturday was any indication, expect the World of Bluegrass to be living in Raleigh for a long time to come.

Peter Blackstock is associate editor at INDY Week.

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    The IBMA's weeklong World of Bluegrass event concluded with a bang on Saturday all across the streets of downtown Raleigh.

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Tuesday, August 27, 2013

Video: Mandolin Orange triumphs at Cat's Cradle

Posted by on Tue, Aug 27, 2013 at 12:29 PM

Mandolin Orange - PHOTO BY DAN SCHRAM
  • Photo by Dan Schram
  • Mandolin Orange

Mandolin Orange
Cat's Cradle, Carrboro
Aug. 23, 2013

Friday at the Cat's Cradle, Mandolin Orange packed every square inch of the storied room with a body. Andrew Marlin and Emily Frantz were celebrating the release of their third album and their first for Yep Roc Records, This Side of Jordan.

Walking into the Cradle early in the evening, there was an electricity in the air as many people bustled around to prepare for the doors to open early. In many ways, the event felt as though it was sponsored by the entire community of Carrboro. From local businesses like Steel String Brewery, who released House of Stone IPA earlier in the week, to Fifth Season Gardening Company, Carrboro Coffee Roasters, Carolina Brewery, Milltown and The Station, who provided free samples and catering for a pre-show jam by another Carrboro institution, The Big Fat Gap. It doesn't get really more hometown than that.

08.21musreview_mandolin.jpg

After an strong set by the South Carolina Broadcasters, Mandolin Orange took to the stage in front of a massive banner depicting the group's album cover, created by Anne Schroth of Greensboro's Red Canary. Everything seemed in perfect form before they even played one note. Surrounded by longtime bandmates and collaborators James Wallace, Jeff Crawford and Ryan Gustafson, the duo looked relaxed and confident as they gazed out into a sea of people.

And during this evening, as they worked through their new album and mixed in songs from their previous releases, something seemed different. Frantz's fiddle breaks seemed sharp and stronger, while Marlin fought his mandolin in hopes of squeezing out every last note during his solos. The crowd responded by singing along to many songs and cheering as though they weren't watching a folk show. A delightful surprise was that of local pedal steel player Nathan Golub joining the group on stage to add his flourishing touches live just as he had done on the album. Ryan Gustafson and frequent cohort Josh Moore also stepped out front to play new numbers from their upcoming solo efforts while backed by Mandolin Orange and company.

The evening hit its peak as the group encored with a tribute to Jerry Garcia and the Grateful Dead, "Black Muddy River," a song fitting Marlin's voice almost perfectly. And as the evening ended, the hot and packed space began to empty as people walked out with records, Plastic Flame prints and the band's own pint glasses. Backstage the group hugged and popped champagne to celebrate the evening.

Coming a long way in just a few years' time, the group seems poised to take their music to a wider, national audience. Outfitted with an impressive record label, management group and publicity team—and perhaps most importantly, a local community feverishly pushing them forward while embracing them as their own.

Below are a few clips from the evening's performance, "There Was a Time" and "Calvary." Also, Ryan Gustafson, who will be stepping further into the spotlight at next week's Hopscotch Music Festival with a set at Memorial Auditorium in Raleigh, debuted a new song, "Road to Heaven."

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    Coming a long way in just a few years' time, Mandolin Orange seems poised to take their music to a wider, national audience.

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At Cat's Cradle, Superchunk give aging the finger

Posted by on Tue, Aug 27, 2013 at 11:59 AM

Superchunk, The Parting Gifts
Cat's Cradle, Carrboro
Aug. 24, 2013

The last few times that Superchunk played Cat's Cradle, the indie rock entrepreneurs picked openers that reinforced their unflagging vitality. Since 2009, surging local rock acts Hammer No More the Fingers and Gross Ghost got their chance to open for the Chapel Hill legends at the club they made famous, as did the nervy but propulsive pop duo Veelee and the rangy folk singer Ryan Gustafson. Performing with these young talents highlighted Superchunk's persistent knack for packing unabashed hooks and screwy guitar lines with triumphant energy. This made sense surrounding Majesty Shredding, a 2010 LP that found them confronting their 40s with gleeful defiance. They owned more gray hairs, and they were writing the checks for Merge Records, Durham's favorite success story, but that hadn't stripped them of their youthful verve.

Saturday, Superchunk played after The Parting Gifts, a sleek rock 'n' roll band that pairs Ettes frontwoman Lindsay "Coco" Hames with Asheville's Greg Cartwright. In this setting, Cartwright dug into songs like the romantically confused "Strange Disposition" with wounded swagger, balanced deftly by Hames' no-nonsense coos. The performances were straightforward, riding tasteful grooves and Cartwright's cutting guitar lines to satisfyingly familiar conclusions, but his simmering reflections made many of them quite powerful. As with those young upstarts, The Parting Gifts were a near-perfect pairing.

I Hate Music, Superchunk's 10th album, had been unveiled a few days before, and this was the celebration—though they also indulged in an intimate, release-day tune-up at Durham's Pinhook. The new LP is darker and more desperate than Majesty Shredding, staring down mortality and reckoning with the role music plays in a finite existence.

"I hate music, what is it worth?" Mac McCaughan cried during "Me & You & Jackie Mittoo," finding outrage more unhinged than what ended up on the smoother studio version. "Can't bring you back to this earth." The take was a little clunky. New bassist Jason Narducy—who recently stepped in for founding member Laura Ballance—fell out of synch with Jon Wurster's clobbering drums, a rare miscue from a duo that already display enviable chemistry.

A few of the set's early moments suffered from similar setbacks, and the fact that McCaughan couldn't keep his guitar in tune didn't help matters. But the resilient ensemble soon found their footing, ripping through serrated versions of I Hate Music standouts "Low F" and "Void" and more insistent older numbers, exemplified by an especially searing trip through the eternally manic "Precision Auto." McCaughan was as electric as ever, pinballing around the stage and trading scintillating riffs with fellow guitarist Jim Wilbur. The rhythms justified his vigor, driving forth with unyielding force.

For their penultimate song before a pair of encores, Superchunk revisited "Digging for Something," Majesty Shredding's aggressively wistful opener. The chugging riffs and slashing fills locked into a furious swell, bolstering McCaughan during the infectious hook. At the risk of stalling momentum, they elongated the slow-building bridge, allowing Mac to relate a story from their stagehand Laura King. She told them about a time in high school when her band was asked to open for Sebadoh, but her mom wouldn't let her go. It was a school night. And King gave what McCaughan estimated was the only fitting response: "Fuck you!" It's a struggle to keep going out as you get older, he admitted. Sometimes, the weariness and the overflowing responsibilities get the best of you. But "you still have to say 'fuck you,'" he preached to the crowd of willing disciples. "Say 'fuck you' to yourself."

Thus far, Superchunk have followed that dictum, pushing past age, past mortality's creeping shadow, past strings that just won't stay in tune. That, above all else, is what makes them one hell of a rock band.

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    Superchunk have pushed past mortality's creeping shadow. That, above all else, is what makes them one hell of a rock band.

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Thursday, August 22, 2013

The Curtains of Night return for a one-off reunion

Posted by on Thu, Aug 22, 2013 at 5:22 PM

The Curtains of Night

The Curtains of Night
Chapel Hill Underground, Chapel Hill
Thursday, Aug. 15, 2013

In their prime, The Curtains of Night packed a wallop. The duo of guitarist Nora Rogers and drummer Lauren Fitzpatrick bred metal grandeur with the densest sludge, laying down some of the most intense and satisfying assaults the area has seen these past few years. They played for a while and released one LP—2008's billowing, thunderous Lost Houses—but they hung it up in 2010, each of them moving on to new projects.

The Curtains of Night
Their current trios—Rogers' hefty psych-doom outfit Solar Halos, Fitzpatrick's fist-pumping stoner force Bitter Resolve—were booked together for a show at the Chapel Hill Underground last week. As a special treat, Rogers and Fitzpatrick ended the night by playing three songs. It was Curtains of Night's first show in as many years.

They admitted that they hadn't practiced all that much, Rogers quipping that she'd learned a lot about "muscle memory," but their songs were remarkably solid given the circumstances. The crushing density that marked their old performances was somewhat diminished. This was likely to some degree a function of volume; Rogers' stack was a good bit smaller than the formidable set-up she utilized back then. But there also seemed to be a slight disconnect between the two players, like the time off had leeched a bit of their chemistry.

They both played their parts well, at least: Rogers unleashed burly, blustering riffs, concussive blows that cut quite deep. Her serrated howl was as sharp as ever, slicing through the onslaught with frightening ease. Fitzpatrick attacked her kit mercilessly, underpinning and counterpointing Rogers with her own fierce tumults.

During one bridge, Rogers ripped into an enormous riff that kept rising and expanding far beyond what you might expect from one guitar. In the past, Fitzpatrick might have ratcheted up her own part to match her partner. This time, she maintained the same propulsive rhythm, serving her purpose without magnifying Rogers' force.

The Curtains of Night were once one of the loudest and mightiest metal bands in the state. Last week, they proved that they could be again. At the end of the set, Rogers told the crowd that she didn't know when they would play again. Here's hoping there's no if involved.

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    Carrboro's Curtains of Night were once one of the loudest and mightiest metal bands in the state. Last week, they proved that they could be again.

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Going back in time with The Backstreet Boys

Posted by on Thu, Aug 22, 2013 at 5:12 PM

Growing up in the ’90s meant making choices. There was Tamagotchi and Nano Pet, McDonald’s and Burger King, Game Boy and Game Gear. Each decision brought with it a distinction, a way to anchor yourself in what felt like an endless sea of decisions. But those were paltry picks compared to the most important—and polarizing—line a girl had to cast: Choosing her favorite boy band. There were the heavy-hitters like ’N Sync and 98 Degrees, the long-haired Hanson boys and the brothers Moffatt. For me, though, it went something like this: Good girls like the Backstreet Boys, and bad girls like … well, everyone else.

With songs such as “As Long as You Love Me” and “I Want It That Way,” the Backstreet Boys sang about love and loneliness without any of the messy sexual implications that made parents jump for the radio dial. Cousins Kevin Richardson and Brian Littrell sang together in church choir, and the quintessential “bad boy,” A.J. McLean, was pegged as such for his manicured facial hair and edgy habit of sporting sunglasses indoors. The group’s first official gig was at Sea World, followed by a string of performances at shopping malls and high schools. The Backstreet Boys were a wholesome affair.

During the summer of 1999, when it was announced that the group was coming to Raleigh, my best friend, Maria, and I immediately purchased tickets. Raleigh was the fourth show of the third leg of an international tour, but for us, it felt like a once-in-a-lifetime event. Like everyone else, Maria and I were peering down the mysterious barrel of the New Millennium, and barring the collapse of the financial system or a worldwide Y2K meltdown, we’d both be allowed to go to the concert—on our own.

On February 18, 2000, our parents dropped us off outside the sold-out show, and we dashed inside to the sounds of Star Wars’ “Imperial March.” We screamed as the Backstreet Boys, dressed in armored vests atop silver space suits, soared onstage, sailing right above our fussed-over hairdos (“just in case they see us”) on sleek hoverboards. The place was so thick with screaming teenagers that the floor shook, and we had to scoop our jaws off the floor before we were able to sing along. Maria and I were dazzled by the promise of the future.

But that was more than a decade ago, when the Internet was still young and there was no such thing as YouTube. The Backstreet Boys, as a band, turned 20 this year, as I turned 26. And, like we did as children, Maria and I went to see the group perform at the Walnut Creek Amphitheatre on Tuesday night. This time, we floated the idea past our husbands, not our parents. Maria was late because of a fussy baby; I kept company with my cell phone while I waited.

The Boys took the stage around 9 p.m., in a modest entrance that lacked the flourish of the hoverboards of yore. When A.J. began singing the opening lines of “Don’t Want You Back,” the crowd responded with an ear-shattering scream. It was a familiar sound, but the clamor was more aggressive, and with less diffidence than in the past. It wasn’t the sound of giddy teenagers preparing to see their crush; it was the sound of drunk adults, preparing to relive their youth. Kevin acknowledged the change after only three songs when he broke from the pack to scan the front row. Instead of complimenting the crowd or introducing the band, he flashed a knowing smile and said, “Raleigh, that ice cold beer sure looks good.”

In the parking lot before the show, loud, muffled bass pounded through the trees, but the music wasn’t opener Jesse McCartney or DJ Pauly D. Instead, the grassy lot opened up to a wide tailgate scene, with traffic directors all but ignoring the throngs of twentysomethings clustered around bottles of wine, their trunks popped open as though at a football game. When the crowd stumbled its way into the venue, there was nary a teenager in sight.

As the concert pressed on, it became clear that the Backstreet Boys—and their fans—had grown up. That’s to be expected; after all, the Backstreet Boys were a relatively early boy band, following at the heels of popular acts like New Kids on the Block and Boyz II Men. The relative maturity of their base would be of little concern if the Boys were content to sit idly by, playing the old hits for the old fans who were willing to pay a pretty penny for a stroll down memory lane.

But in July, the group released In a World Like This, their first independently produced album, and they genuinely seem interested in pursuing the new material. Throughout the night, the Backstreet Boys peppered in new songs between the radio hits, lacing them with lengthy explanations and flashy dance routines. If the crowd’s response to these songs—that is, sitting down and checking their cell phones—is any indication, staying relevant is going to be a struggle.

The Backstreet Boys seem to know this. Before playing “Madeline,” a touching new tune that offers hope to victims of bullying, Howie told the crowd, “In 30 or 40 years, we might not be able to shake what our mamas gave us as well as we can now. So, as an insurance policy, we picked up some instruments.” The crowd roared at this announcement, though less than a minute into the song, there were more people sending texts than watching the group. It seemed that the future the Backstreet Boys had long promised arrived, and then pressed on, dragging the boys in tow.

These days, it’s the multimedia acts that get the preteens screaming. Justin Bieber was catapulted into stardom by singing R&B covers on YouTube, while London-based One Direction were originally contenders on The X Factor. The Jonas Brothers came straight from Disney’s Camp Rock, and The Wanted have their own reality show on E!

Alex, the youngest member of my family, self-identifies as a “Belieber.” Although she missed the Backstreet era by about 10 years and has no idea what an obsessive fan I used to be, she’s the target audience for In a World Like This. When I told her that I was going to the Backstreet Boys concert this week, Alex politely told me she knew nothing about them. “Quit playing games with my heart,” I laughed, the joke rolling off my tongue with ease. She returned with nothing, but she didn’t have to: I might as well have asked her how her Nano Pet was doing.

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    The Backstreet Boys' concert at Raleigh's Walnut Creek Amphitheatre, as seen through the eyes of a fan from the early days.

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Wednesday, August 14, 2013

Jewels gone wild: Killer Mike and El-P at Cat's Cradle

Posted by on Wed, Aug 14, 2013 at 2:52 PM

Killer Mike and El-P - PHOTO COURTESY OF BIZ 3
  • Photo courtesy of Biz 3
  • Killer Mike and El-P

Run The Jewels: Killer Mike and El-P
Cat's Cradle
Friday, Aug. 9, 2013

On Friday night, Run The Jewels—the hip-hop BFF duo of Killer Mike and El-P—alternately took the sweat-soaked Cat's Cradle crowd to church, their hometowns of Atlanta and Brooklyn, and everywhere in between.

The evening captured both the unstoppable essence of their self-titled debut and their relatively new friendship, which started when Mike was shopping for beats to create what became one of 2012's best albums, R.A.P. Music. He was so taken by El-P's Bomb Squad-ian instrumentals that he enlisted the former Definitive Jux president to produce the entire project. The two have been seemingly inseparable since. At one point during the show, El-P threw his arm around Killer Mike and exclaimed, "This is my best friend right here."

Mike and El tore through the entirety of Run The Jewels, minus tongue-in-cheek bro jam "Twin Hype Back" featuring rap god Prince Paul. Concerts of this ilk, wherein artists perform an album in full, often feel like cheap cash-grabs, but Run The Jewels was built for the stage. From the chest-beating title track through the menacing, mournful "A Christmas Fucking Miracle," the set, like the album, delivered a shot of raw rap adrenaline. Chuck D and Ice Cube, two major influences, would be proud.

Their respective solo sets were equally incendiary, filled with palpable anger and new-world gospel that never lacked sincerity or sounded preachy. The crowd transformed into a boom-bap pulpit before Mike's hulking glow. Highlights included an a cappella version of R.A.P. Music's powerful "Reagan" and an in-the-crowd annotated take on "God in the Building."

El-P burst from backstage to "Drones Over BKLYN," a brain-crunching single off 2012's Cancer 4 Cure. Backed by a hypeman and a multi-instrumentalist duo, he dipped deep into his catalog. His love for his craft became most evident during "EMG," when a mid-song beat-switch found El spitting over the Slick Rick classic "Children's Story." It was just as crowd-pleasing as it was seamless, even leading into an on-the-spot remix of A Tribe Called Quest's "Can I Kick It?"

Before Run The Jewels destroyed eardrums, Kool A.D. (formerly of Das Racist) supplied his free-associative rhymes with an unmatched suave. While his tourmates were more immediately electrifying, the Bay Area native controlled the crowd with wit and wordplay. That's no easy win for an MC whose lyrics bounce from one topic to the next, especially during his epic 10-minute closing track, "Dum Diary." No surprise, then, that when he asked "Who's your favorite rapper?" for the thousandth time, the overwhelming response of "KOOL A.D.!" felt genuine.

  • Pin It
    The hip-hop BFF duo delivered a shot of raw rap adrenaline that would make Chuck D and Ice Cube proud. Also, Kool A.D.'s unmatched suave.

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a band can play any of their songs wherever the fuck they want to in a set. no one needs …

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While I didn't attend the show in NC, I did see it a few nights earlier in NYC's Beacon Theatre …

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