What's the Frequency, Coffey?

Quick report: Saturday's R.E.M. show was beyond amazing. I've written a full blog post — in my head — but have yet to find the time to put fingers to keyboard. Look for a full report (with groovy pix) in the coming days.

The kids in the R.E.M. office think it was an amazing show, too. According to REMHQ.com:

R.E.M. Returns Home in Style
R.E.M. ripped through a muscular 27-song set Saturday at Atlanta's Lakewood Amphitheatre on a balmy Georgia night, the last of the sixteen dates on the band's North American leg of their current world tour. It was arguably the finest show on a tour replete with stellar performances and highlights. The near capacity crowd, teeming with friends and family, witnessed a band at the top of its game, blending high energy rock, including a generous helping of the high-octane tracks from ACCELERATE, with some of the more poignant numbers from their vast catalog of songs — Time After Time, Let Me In, and Nightswimming.

For those who cannot wait, here's the setlist:

These Days
Living Well Is the Best Revenge
So Fast, So Numb
What's the Frequency, Kenneth?
Time After Time
Driver 8
Man-Sized Wreath
Walk Unafraid
Hollow Man
Ignoreland
Houston
Electrolite
(Don’t Go Back to) Rockville
Auctioneer
Harborcoat
The One I Love
I've Been High
Let Me In
Bad Day
Horse to Water
Orange Crush
I'm Gonna DJ

Encore:
Supernatural Superserious
Losing My Religion
Pretty Persuasion
Nightswimming
Fall on Me (w/ Johnny Marr)
Man on the Moon (w/ Johnny Marr)

Brilliant set of songs, huh? Just wait until you can read my gushing, workshipful review of the show.

* * * * * *

Calling Clinton and Stacey

Last week was a rough one. A couple of highs — Nick Lowe and Ron Sexsmith at Variety Playhouse, dinner with Favorite Boy — but most of it was soul-sucking minutes dealing with car problems and work blandness and crap. What better way to close those 168 suck-ass hours than hitting a concert?

And so I went with Scrivener to see Tapes ‘n’ Tapes. Drained and limp, I donned the most comfortable clothes I could grab: faded jeans and Avias, R.E.M. T-shirt over a longsleeved white one. Popped the lenses, put on my glasses, slung my orange Nepalese messenger bag over my shoulder, and I was off to The Earl.

Ready to groove … casually

The opening act was White Denim, a garage band from Austin. Scrivener and I kept trying to guess the age of the bass player — who looked like the bastard child of Mike Mills and my friend Renae. If he was twenty, I want the name of his moisturizer.

Tapes ‘n’ Tapes hit the stage around 11:20, and I hit the bar. While ordering my cocktail of choice (bottled water; did I mention it was a rough week?), a guy grabbed my arm and told me he loved our opening set. When I looked at him quizzically, he said, “Aren’t you the bass player?”

Um, no. I have two decades and two tits on the bass player.

Mama’s right, I guess. I need to wear lipstick whenever I go out.

* * * * * *

Oh, Happy Day

One of the best things about living in Atlanta is you have a wealth of musical talent living all around you. Add in the great music clubs that dot the intown area, and you get to live quite the fabu-life.

Tonight was a high mark for the fabu-diaries: Francine Reed at Eddie’s Attic, a two hundred-seat club around the corner from me (selected by Paste as one of the ten best music clubs in the nation).

It was also Oh, Happy Weekend in my little corner of the world. But here at The Cup we try to maintain our Southern ladyness by not blogging about giggling hearts and tingling parts.

Francine Reed lives in Atlanta, so we’re graced with her performances on a regular basis. Tonight was a special show, part of Decatur’s African-American Month celebration. Francine was on. The room was filled. Bluesy, bawdy love bounced off the walls.

Brilliance shining brightly.

Yeah, it’s a cliché, but when I listen to Francine Reed, I literally get shivers up my spine. That shiver starts at the base of my spine, slowly ... oh, so slowly ... working the tingles up to the bottom of my skull. Few female voices affect me that way — but Francine's does. Every. Damn. Time.

Many of you may not be familiar with Francine — and that’s a cryin’ shame. That killer voice of hers has been backing Lyle Lovett since the late 1980s:

Lyle Lovett feat. Francine Reed :: Here I Am

Lyle Lovett feat. Francine Reed :: What Do You Do/The Glory of Love

She also sings on “Crying Shame” on Lyle Lovett and His Large Band, and tours with him regularly.

Here are two of her better-known solo songs:

Francine Reed :: Wild Women (Don't Get the Blues)

Francine Reed :: One Monkey (Don't Stop No Show)

These recordings don't do her justice, though — as with all great performers, she's much better live. When you’re in the room with Francine, you cheer and laugh and cry and praise Jesus. But her show is about more than The Voice. She knows how to sell it. She’s saucy and sassy, flirty and fabulous. She teased one table of women whose husbands were parking the car: I’ll go out to the parking lot. I love husbands. When I’m done with ‘em, I can send ‘em home.

I didn’t jot down the full two sets, but here are the highlights:

Wild Women (Don't Get the Blues)
One Monkey (Don’t Stop No Show)
My Funny Valentine
God Bless the Child
What a Wonderful World
At Last
Summertime/Fever

She added a brilliant line to “Fever”: When you go home I hope you get the fever in your bed.

She closed the show with “Oh, Happy Day.” During the second half of the song, we were up and singing the refrain, clapping like we were in church, as she strutted out of the room, singing a capella. The room went wild. She came back in singing — again unaccompanied — “You’ll Never Walk Alone.” But not on the stage — no, ma’am, Francine walked the room … her arms held high … singing at the top of those beautiful lungs … spending a moment or two with each of us. A-f*cking-mazing. And yes, I cried.

Francine will be at Blind Willie’s on February 22. It's a Friday night. We’re getting a crowd together. Who wants to join the girls for a night on the town?

I wanna be just like Francine when I grow up. As she described herself tonight, I’m three or four handfuls — bring a friend.

* * * * * *

Freewheeling It

The Occasionally Beloved Engineer and I saw one of the best shows of 2008 Saturday night: The Freewheeling Yo La Tengo. Okay, it was my first show of the year, but I have a feeling it’s going to be on my Best Of list come December.

The show format was … well, freewheeling. Ira, Georgia, and James sat in folding chairs, answering questions and playing requests. Well, most of them; they turned down shoutouts for the much-too-requested “Speeding Motorcycle” and “Autumn Sweater.”

The OBE and I also went to last February’s Yo La Tengo show, but stayed just twenty minutes at that one. Too much fun and too much beer before the show + a bit too Yo La Emo = restlessness. Glad we stayed for this show.

Ira answered most questions and told most of the stories, with some help and funny asides from James, occasional comments from the quiet Georgia. I laughed more than I sang along. I was sure I'd remember several stories to tell here … but, well, I’m on the edge of old and can’t remember them in full. It was fascinating, though, to hear them talk about their love of records and music, and “meeting” Lou Reed.

I can’t even remember the setlist, dammit. They played great tunes, though, including “My Little Corner of the World” and a Rolling Stones cover (the title has now slipped this foggy ol’ brain; I should really write these concert recaps when I get home from the show). The encore was their cover of “I’m Your Puppet” and “Mr. Tough,” one of my favorite tracks from I Am Not Afraid of You and I Will Beat Your Ass.

Not familiar with Yo La Tengo? Here they are performing “Mr. Tough” in a radio studio, very much like Saturday’s performance.



Go see The Freewheeling Yo La Tengo Review if it rolls into your town.

* * * * * *

Mix Tape Friday: Cup's 2007 Concert Series

This was one of the best years for live music I’ve had in years. I saw some amazing shows. I had planned to rank them from favorite-to-worst, but kept wrestling with the top five. Instead, you get to relive my musical moments via this mix tape

Looks like 2008 is going to be a great year for live music as well. R.E.M. will be on tour, and I hope to catch them two or three times. Scrivener and I are hitting the road for a couple of Wilco shows in a few weeks. I’d like to catch Springsteen when he’s here in April; I haven’t seen him in concert since maybe 1981. There’s a Magnetic Fields tour in the works, but I may need to travel to Chicago to catch a show. And the usual suspects should warble their way through town.

So, here we go: One track from each show I saw — in most cases, my favorite song performed during the show. How fitting that we kick off with Glenn Tilbrook. I didn’t post about the show, but it was one of my five favorite of the year. Glenn’s funky — I know because he told me so. You should have seen his Tom Jones number — deeee-vine!

Glenn Tilbrook :: Genitalia of a Fool
1.12.07, The Five Spot

Jeff Tweedy :: I Am Trying to Break Your Heart (live)
1.29.07, The Tabernacle

Scott McCaughey :: Aw Shit Man
1.29.07, The Tabernacle, opening for Jeff Tweedy

Yo La Tengo :: Mr. Tough
2.03.07, Variety Playhouse

Of Montreal :: Bunny Ain't No Kind of Rider
2.24.07, Variety Playhouse

Robyn Hitchcock & The Venus 3 :: N.Y. Doll
3.21.07, 40 Watt Club, Athens

Pete Yorn :: Life on a Chain
3.24.07, Center Stage

Rickie Lee Jones :: Where I Like It Best
3.26.07, Variety Playhouse

Todd Rundgren :: I Saw the Light
5.03.07, The Roxy

Nicole Chillemi :: Sugar in My Bowl
5.26.07, Decatur Arts Festival

Great Lake Swimmers :: I Am Part of a Large Family
6.12.07, The Earl

Wilco :: Impossible Germany
6.19.07, Chastain Park Amphitheatre

Low :: The La La Song
6.19.07, Chastain Park Amphitheatre, opening for Wilco

Swimming Pool Qs :: Rat Bait
7.07.07, Riverside Park

The Decemberists :: I Was Meant for the Stage
7.13.07, Chastain Park Amphitheatre

The B-52’s :: Mesopotamia
8.01.07, Chastain Park Amphitheatre

Rufus Wainwright :: Between My Legs
8.13.07, The Tabernacle

Neko Case :: Maybe Sparrow
8.13.07, The Tabernacle, opening for Rufus Wainwright

Crowded House :: Locked Out
9.12.07, The Tabernacle

Pete Yorn :: Young Folks (live Peter, Bjorn and John cover)
9.12.07, The Tabernacle, opening for Crowded House

Andrew Bird :: Plasticities
9.13.07, Variety Playhouse

Stevie Wonder :: Boogie on Reggae Woman
9.14.07, Chastain Park Amphitheatre

Bob Dylan :: Leopard-Skin Pill-Box Hat
9.22.07, Gwinnett Arena

Elvis Costello :: Less Than Zero (live)
9.22.07, Gwinnett Arena, opening for Bob Dylan *

Drive-by Truckers :: 18 Wheels of Love
9.29.07, Variety Playhouse

Ryan Adams & The Cardinals :: Two
10.14.07, The Fox Theater

Eartha Kitt :: C'est Si Bon
10.20.07, Symphony Hall

New Pornographers :: The Laws Have Changed
10.30.07, Variety Playhouse

Emma Pollock :: Adrenaline
10.30.07, Variety Playhouse, opening for New Pornographers

Queen Latifah :: Mercy Mercy Mercy
11.02.07, Symphony Hall

Glen Hansard + Marketa Irglova :: Falling Slowly
11.17.07, Variety Playhouse

Martha Wainwright :: Bloody Mother F*cking Asshole
11.17.07, Variety Playhouse, opening for The Swell Season

Pylon :: Feast on My Heart
12.07.07, 40 Watt Club, Athens

Atlanta Symphony Orchestra + Gospel Chorus :: Too Hot to Handel sampler
12.15.07, Symphony Hall

The Shins :: Caring Is Creepy
12.16.07, Mistle Toe Jam, Gwinnett Arena

Modest Mouse :: We've Got Everything
12.16.07, Mistle Toe Jam, Gwinnett Arena

* Thanks to the much-missed Haahnster for sending me these EC tracks.

I saw Scott McCaughey, Jeff Tweedy, Pete Yorn, and Neko Case twice — Scott as a (damn good) opening act for the solo Tweedy show and backing Robyn Hitchcock as a member of The Venus 3 … Tweedy solo and with Wilco … Pete Yorn’s own show and opening for Crowded House … Neko opening for Rufus Wainwright, then with New Pornographers.

Find the Buck: Which band included here boasts Peter Buck as a member?

There were several almost-saws this concert season — but, alas, job commitments and other issues kept me off the floor for The Detroit Cobras … another Decemberists show … Bishop Allen … The Hold Steady … Rilo Kiley … and some other kickin’-my-ass-for-missing-its. Hopefully I’ll get my priorities straight in the coming year.

Okay, so who’s joining me on the dance floor in ’08?

* * * * * *

The Queen Ruled

My friend Jayne and I saw. The. Best. Damn. Show. Atlanta had to offer Friday night: Queen Latifah at Symphony Hall. (I hear They Might Be Giants were boring that same night. I’m not a huge TMBG fan, though.)

Queen Latifah blows the roof off the Symphony Hall joint.

I’ve been smitten with Queen Latifah’s voice since she sang her heart out in Living Out Loud — and my besmitten ears were well rewarded. Symphony Hall hash the best acoustics in the city, and Queen Latifah (and her damn fantastic band) took full advantage of the room. She sang several tunes from her new album, Trav’lin’ Light (which is well worth the download or CD purchase) and from The Dana Owens Album — blues, jazz, old-school soul, R&B. Her voice sent shivers down my spine and up my neck several times.

Partial Setlist
(in no particular order)

“Mercy, Mercy, Mercy”
“I Know Where I’ve Been”
“Georgia Rose”
“I’m Gonna Live”
“Poetry Man”
“California Dreaming”/”Masquerade”
“Trav'lin' Light”

The crowd ate her up. We jumped to our feet maybe five times during her 75-minute performance. That’s my only complaint with the show: It was too short. I could have used another hour — but I ain’t complaining.

Added bonus: Her personality was as vibrant and funny and sassy as she comes across in movies and on “Living Single.” I walked out wishing we were buddies.

* * * * * *

This Girl's Life Among the Electrical Lights

FBB Scrivener and I caught the New Pornographers show last night. Fantastic, electrifying, energizing show! I semi-sang and semi-danced and semi-grooved in the dark, while Scriv socially butterflied the playhouse (I didn’t know coeds from our state engineering university were so hot) and introduced concertgoers to one another.

This isn’t going to be a well-written concert review; I’m a bit too overwhelmed at work and with life to Paste this one. If you’re looking for a great write-up, check out Bad Tempered Barbara’s review. You should read her blog daily. If you want to be a cool kid.

I didn’t playlist the show, so I’ll just tell you that New Pornographers performed all the good ones (except for “Chump Change”), from one end of their catalog to the other. My favorite number was “The Laws Have Changed.” I always along with Neko on that one — and I kept up with the much-adored lass during that song. Luckily, the band was quite loud and my voice didn’t offend my fellow concertgoers.

Speaking of Neko (because I know you boys are wondering), she was casually dressed in jeans and a top. She played the tambourine. I could play the tambourine in a band — but I’d play it more like Betty Cooper, banging it on my hip instead Neko’s style with the heel of her hand. “Sugar, Sugar,” anyone?

I once dined at the fabulous Walter's Hotdog Stand, across the street from New Rochelle High, the school on which the Archies comics is based.

The band had a comfortable, friendly vibe, which spread among the near-sellout crowd. They staged the indie Canadian version of a George Clinton show, with some members (including the wonderfully coiffed Dan Bejar) coming on and off the stage throughout the two hours (and two encores).

We missed the first act, but I enjoyed the second act — Emma Pollack (according to the Barbara Zombie, she used to be in the Delgados). Lovely Scottish accent. I’ll probably download some of her stuff this week.

To summarize: Show was good. Tickets should be purchased in your hometown. Neko is still hot. Anyone looking for a tambourine girl?

* * * * * *

The Divine Miss E

C’est si bon to see a legend live. That’s how I spent my Saturday evening: in Symphony Hall, experiencing the still-sexy, still-sizzling, still-scintillating Eartha Kitt perform with the Atlanta Symphony Orchestra.

The woman still has it.

Orson Welles called her “the most exciting woman in the world” — and he nailed it (the description, not the woman, not that I know of). This tour is to celebrate Eartha Kitt’s eightieth birthday. The birth certificate proves it — but her body hides it well. Very well. She still has legs someone thirty years younger would love to have. Her dress was slit up to there — and she made there proud.

And, damn, did she work it. She slivered. She shimmied. Flirted, teased, tantalized. She even Charleston’ed. I want to wear eighty just like Eartha Kitt.

Her stroll onto the ASO stage wasn’t the first time I saw Ms. Kitt that day. High school BFF Janice and I saw her while we shopped around Virginia-Highland Saturday afternoon. Eartha was a bit more … earthy ... during those pre-show hours — sans makeup, her hair pulled back. Lord, is she tiny.

Eartha performed two sets, singing tunes such as “C’est Si Bon,” “All by Myself,” and “Just an Old-fashioned Girl.”

Her voice is still strong, still unique — and she growled for us a couple of times, too. The sold-out crowd (deservedly) gave her several standing Os. As she left the stage after her final set, I mentioned to Jayne that I loved the set, but would have loved to have heard my fave — and out-of-season — “Santa Baby.”

God loves me. Eartha came back on stage for the encore — and purred “Santa Baby” for us.

Grrrrrl.

My one regret: I didn't take my digital camera with me, assuming the ASO would discourage photos in the hall. Dammit if Eartha didn't come out post-show to pose for photos and meet her fans. She's the coolest of the cool.

* * * * * *

Ryan Adams and the Beloveds

Is there anything better than a lovely autumn Sunday? It’s still a bit too hot here for October, but that didn’t stop my good day.

I spent the afternoon — the lovely, sunny, warm afternoon — at a neighborhood arts festival a few miles from my ‘hood. The Occasionally Beloved Engineer’s band played early in the afternoon, and I hate missing an opportunity to feed my inner groupie. The OBE’s band played a solid hour of damn good cover tunes — everything from The Clash to The Killers. I should pout, though, since OBE didn’t play an R.E.M. tune for me.

The Occasionally Beloved Engineer jams with his boys.

I also got a chance to hook up (and share a beer) with Scrivener and his daughters (his daughters drank apple juice) at the festival. His girls are lovely and lively, and I enjoy every minute I spend with Scrivener.

The heat and the beer went a bit to my head, but luckily I had just enough time for a late-afternoon nap before my night out.

Is there anything more luxurious than a Sunday afternoon nap?

And that night out was Ryan Adams and The Cardinals at the Fox Theater. Pal Cindee scored some good seats, and we prayed for weeks that we’d score Good Ryan.

We scored.

Ryan performed two sets, for a total of about two hours. He covered much of his catalog — “Sylvia Plath” and “Cold Roses,” “Two” and “Bartering Lines,” “Wild Flowers” and “Let It Ride” — and several more.

I think Ryan likes me. I’ve scored Good Ryan both times I’ve seen him — last night and last summer. Supposedly, Bad Ryan took the stage his second night last summer … because, I’m sure, he knew I wasn’t there.

My favorite song of the night closed out the first set. I went to the show with the most rabid Oasis fan in Atlanta, and the band starts playing the opening notes of “Champagne Supernova.” We’re squealing and jumping up and down — much like Scrivener’s daughters on the playground. But wait … the words aren’t quite right. Ryan and the band teased us with that opening to “I See Monsters.” Excellent!

Ryan didn’t talk much during the first set, but chatted a good bit during the second. He thought the Fox was “a nice joint.” He seemed relaxed and healthy. They didn’t play an encore and received some boos when they didn’t return to the stage — but a check of setlists from this year’s tour showed he isn’t doing encores this year. I would have loved to hear him play “Wonderwall” — but I’m glad he played well.

* * * * * *

A Bird, Some Truckers

My concert season seems to be as nonstop as Bob Dylan’s tour. Let’s catch up on a couple of great shows I have yet to tell you about.

Andrew Bird @ Variety Playhouse (Sept. 13)

This was my first time seeing Andrew Bird. To be honest, I wasn’t all that familiar with him until FBB Scrivener gave me a CD of MP3s filled with aural goodness last fall. I was hooked. So of course I jumped at the chance when Scrivener asked if I wanted to join his entourage for the show.

And what a show it was.

It’s hard to describe Andrew Bird. In an industry where “original” is overused … he’s truly an original. He whistles as brilliantly as he plays violin and guitar. His music is as much of-the-moment indie as it is something from the 1920s. I spent much of the show with my eyes closed, letting his songs take me to other worlds, other times. (Crikey. I just went back to writing like a pretentious college paper critic, didn’t I? But it’s true, kids.)

The show was brilliant. At times the lighting reflected his image on the side walls, giving us a bit of a Polynesian puppet show. I tried snapping shots of the shadows … but you’ve seen my concert photography enough to know the shots didn’t come through.

In case you’re not familiar with Andrew Bird, here he is on David Letterman a few months back:




Drive-by Truckers @ Variety Playhouse (Sept. 28)

Can you believe that this Georgia-bred and Athens-worshipping gal has never seen the Drive-by Truckers? I’ve loved their albums lo these many years, but had yet to see them live. The Northwest Doppelganger gave me sh*t about that, so I knew it was a must for 2007.

Thank God I have pushy pals.

I’m sorry, Dale, but I missed your beloved Amy Sedaris. I was handed a rush project late Friday, and didn’t get out of the office until nearly 8 p.m. But Baby Got Books’ Tim had a grand time with your girl.

This was one of the most entertaining shows I’ve seen in a while. Patterson Hood (this month’s crush) was in fine form. I haven’t seen anyone have that much fun on stage since Glenn Tilbrook back in January. He was charming. He was funny. He broke my heart and made me laugh with his songs. As did the rest of the band. For two and a half hours. As my co-concertgoer said, “They sound like Charlie Daniels and The Byrds had a bunch of children.” We’re both Southern-bred, so we know our Southern rock.

The band played a lot of new songs from their upcoming album (and a couple that didn’t make it), as well as some of their fans' faves. I walked out eagerly awaiting that 2008 release.

Patterson Hood, workin’ it.

See that Chia-Petted head in the bottom right corner of the photo? His hair looked … fake. I so wanted to yank the back to see if it came off. But I’m weird that way.

The crowd was very UGA, rather homogenous. The guys sported khaki shorts, Hog's Breath Saloon T-shirts (seriously, two to every one Allman Brothers T-shirt), sandals, high-fives, and pumping fists. The gals were overdressed, working the floor in four-inch platform sandals and dresses that I would hang in the T-shirt section of my closet.

Guys, please explain the Y-chrome phenomenon of shouting lyrics into each other’s faces. I don’t get the thrill of someone an inch from your mouth, shouting the lyrics being sung. And yet I see those college boys doing it all the time. Is it to give their pumping fists a breather?

Get online now, kids, to check your local listings for Andrew Bird and Drive-by Truckers. You need to get out of the house. You need to experience something new. You need to get all raunchy and Southern. Tell ‘em Beth sent you.

* * * * * *

Thunder on the Arena

I can finally check another one off my list. I saw Bob Dylan — for the first time, if you can believe it — Saturday night at Gwinnett Arena.

I’ve always wanted to see Bob Dylan. How can you not love his music? There isn’t a songwriter better than him — hell, there are few twentieth (or twenty-first) century poets better than him when it comes to stringing together lovely words. I’ve never made it to the box office, though, because of his reputation for on-stage iffiness. The push this time came in the form of his opener: Elvis Costello. The second I heard the bill, I knew this was my time to finally see Dylan. I got floor seats for the niece and me, and started counting the days.

Due to technical difficulties ranging from someone meeting up from tickets to deadly highway accidents, we sadly (so, so sadly) missed Amos Lee. I was out in the parking lot, drinking a beer, when I could have been inside grooving. I’m sorry, Jewgirl.

The crowd was, understandably, interesting: aging hippies and hip yuppies, young kids and old fogies. I saw as much gray hair as green, bald heads and faux-hawked tops.

I’ve seen Elvis many times over the last thirty years, and he has yet to disappoint me. I was interested in seeing him as an opening act since he’s always been a headliner in my world.


It was a great set — just Elvis (his first solo outing in more than a decade) and unplugged (with the occasional plugged) guitars, working his dark suit with black dress shirt and tie (Mr. Costello always has style on stage, my dears). My favorite number was “Radio Sweetheart,” which faded into “Jackie Wilson Said.” Love it when Mr. Costello does that.

Elvis Costello’s Setlist

(The Angels Wanna Wear My) Red Shoes
Either Side of the Same Town
Veronica
Down Among the Wine and Spirits
The River in Reverse
Bedlam
Less Than Zero
Radio Sweetheart/Jackie Wilson Said
Alison/In Another Room
Peace, Love, and Understanding

One complaint: The lame-ass folks sitting on the floor with us didn’t stand or dance for one frickin’ song; the dorks behind us even yelled at us to sit down. How can you sit during “Red Shoes” or “Peace, Love, and Understanding”?

Okay, another complaint: Forty minutes just isn’t enough to stroke my Elvis jones, but it’s better than no Costello at all, I guess. And it has been more than a year since I’ve seen him perform, so I should just quit whining, shouldn’t I?

We had a nice little break between Costello and Dylan — enough time to flirt with the cute Savannah guys next to us, get a T-shirt, grab a beer. We hit the floor as soon as Dylan hit the stage, so we danced in the back for a couple of songs …until it was suggested that we find our seats.

Dylan was rocking the Texas hat and garb — and he wears it well. He doesn’t allow Jumbo-trons, so I didn’t get a close look, but I think even Tim Gunn would have approved.

The niece said it best: Dylan sounded a lot like Boomhauer on the first couple of songs, but his voice got stronger and clearer as the set went on … well, as much as his voice can. His band was great, adding a lot of Texas swing to some tunes (the best of these was “Summer Days”).

Dylan played electric guitar on the first three songs, then spent the rest of the show playing keyboard, with the occasional harp thrown in (to wild applause every time).

Bob Dylan’s Setlist

Leopard-Skin Pill-Box Hat
Don't Think Twice, It's All Right
Watching the River Flow
Just Like a Woman
Rollin' and Tumblin'
Spirit on the Water
Ballad of Hollis Brown
Stuck Inside of Mobile with the Memphis Blues Again
Honest with Me
Workingman's Blues #2
Highway 61 Revisited
Nettie Moore
Summer Days
Masters of War

Encore:
Thunder on the Mountain
All Along the Watchtower

Nobody stood or danced during Costello’s set … but they all stood and danced (as much as you can, anyway) during most of Dylan’s show.

A lifetime without live Dylan now fulfilled. He was great — the ubers around us rated the show an eight — and I’ll see him again. We didn’t get "Things Have Changed" or Jack White, but we got cute T-shirts and cuter Savannah boys.

Security was very strict about cameras, even cell phones — so you won’t get to enjoy some of my crappy concert photography with this post. One of the CSBs got some great shots when he went to the sixth row … but he has yet to send them.

So, to summarize: Costello, good. Dylan, good. Saturday night, great!

* * * * * *

Master Blasted Under the Stars Above

I see a lot of concerts every year, running the gamut of genres: indie bands, heroes from my New Wave days, favorites from my seventies youth. I’m easily impressed with and thrilled by a live show — but only a handful leave me dancing and singing and giggling for days. I experienced one of those live shows Friday night when I saw Stevie Wonder at Chastain Park Amphitheater.

I’ve stated that, next to post-punk and New Wave, R&B from the seventies is one of my favorite music genres. Al Green has always ridden at the crest of that wave for me … but he was unseated Friday night around 9:10. I’ve always loved Stevie Wonder, but his show left me with awe and adulation. My friends and I are still gushing about the show. It was, hands down, the best show I’ve seen all year — knocking Glenn Tilbrook’s January show and Wilco’s June show off the top of the 2007 list. In fact, this show may have been one of the five best I’ve seen in aughts.

I had a rough, stressful week — and struggled all day Friday to stave off the bad mood that wanted to take over my mind. I indulged a bit in the grumps — it was storming, we were going to an outdoor concert, and crap just kept hitting the fan. But I wasn’t going to give in. Stopping by Publix on the way to the show to get wine and munchines (our amphitheater is one of those wine-and-cheese joints), the store started playing Stevie’s “If You Really Loved Me” — and the nastiness in my mood evaporated. I loudly sang along, dancing with my cart up and down the aisles like we were in the “Soul Train” line. I was ready for Stevie.

We hit the amphitheater about an hour before the show, giving us time to carb up on pasta salad and hummus and cookies, marinating our dancing selves with red wine. We were ready for the show.

Stevie (led on stage by his daughter, Aisha Morris) opened the show by explaining he was touring in honor of his mother, who died in 2006. It was a lovely tribute to the woman who, as he explained, wasn’t going to let his blindness leave him blind to the world. He then sat at the piano and played “Love’s in Need of Love Today” — just Stevie and his piano. His band slipped on during the song, and kicked off one helluva great show. Two-plus hours of a show, without a break.

It’s hard to read the notes I wrote in the dark (yeah, I’m one of those nerds who jots down the setlist for the blog), but I think this is accurate:

Love's in Need of Love Today
Too High
Visions
Living in the City
Master Blaster (Jammin’)
Higher Ground
Golden Lady
Ribbon in the Sky (with India.Arie)
Overjoyed
Can’t Imagine Love Without You
Don't You Worry 'bout a Thing
You and I
Lately
How Will I Know (with Aisha Morris)
Signed, Sealed, Delivered
Signed, Sealed, Delivered: The Country Version
My Cheri Amour
All I Do (Is Think About You)
Rocket Love
Sir Duke
I Wish
Boogie on Reggae Woman
Always
Isn't She Lovely
You Are the Sunshine of My Life
Superstition
Part-time Lover
I Just Called to Say I Love You
Another Star

Look at that setlist! Just about as perfect a set as you could wish for. Some huge hits, some great cuts from his best albums. I'll be listening to these MP3s all week long.

“Boogie on Reggae Woman” is one of my very favorite songs in the world — definitely one of the top twenty-five, definitely one of the top five seduce-me tunes. The joy of hearing it live, throwing out my arms and dancing with abandon under the stars above. But, really, every song felt that way. I’ve never been wild about “I Just Called to Say I Love You” — but hearing Stevie sing it to me changed its Cup rating.

One of the sweetest moments was during “Isn’t She Lovely,” which he wrote about Aisha when she was born. She sat on the piano bench with him as he sang, and my crowd teared up.

Stevie was chatty, funny, moving, political. And the crowd ate it up. I’ll never miss another Stevie Wonder show.

Stevie’s T-shirt has Braille on it (the yellow dots); how cool is that!

I’m still on a Wonder high, pretty much living in my Stevie T-shirt and listening to his MP3s all weekend. Do you blame me?

* * * * * *

Hey Now, Hey Now

The first of this week’s aural hat trick — Crowded House, with opener Pete Yorn — was pretty darn good last night.

We caught the last couple of numbers by the first act — Liam Finn, son of Neil. Very entertaining on stage. I wish we’d caught more of his show.

I hate to say it, but Pete Yorn’s opening set was just okay — and I was with Pete’s biggest Atlanta fan, who agreed. We got the impression he was tired. (He’s still damn cute, though.) His cover of Peter Bjorn & John’s “Young Folks” was good, and he had the whistling down.

I’m a casual, not fanatical, fan of Crowded House. Love their hits, love their brilliant pop sensibilities, but I’m not well versed in their entire oeuvre. There were, however, a lot of the ubers in the house — for the most part, fortysomething guys — and they loved every minute of the show. Lots of fist-pumping and high-fiving and singalongs. I love watching guys get into a performance.




Crowded House kicked off with “There Goes God” (from 1991’s Woodface), and they did a good job hitting highlights from all their albums — “In My Command,” “Hole in the River” (probably my fave of the main set), “Better Be Home” (with Pete Yorn and his mates joining the band), “Fall at Your Feet” (I quit setlisting an hour into the show). I think the band performed about half of the new album (which is quite good).

This was my third time seeing Mr. Finn. Split Enz came to our college radio station studio in 1980, in support of the brilliant True Colors; I was thrilled to meet those young, cute boys. I then saw Crowded House in 1994, at one of their last concerts. I guess I’m on a thirteen-year rotation with them; wonder what they’ll be doing in 2020?

Neil was quite charming throughout the show. You could tell he was having a great time. His voice is still remarkable. I'm going for it, BeckEye: I decided last night that Neil Finn is the Glenn Tilbrook of Down Under, with that sweet voice and knack for perfect pop lyrics.


Neil Finn sang a damn good cover of Cat Stevens’ “Wild World.” He remarked that, as a teen, he used to drag his guitar to parties and sing that tune, in the hopes of snagging a cute girl … but instead supplied the soundtrack for someone else’s snag.

The big hits were hit during the two encores: “Locked Out” (which was the song I most wanted to hear), “Something So Strong,” and “Don’t Dream It’s Over.” I was a bit disappointed that we didn’t get some Split Enz tunes, but it didn’t ruin the show for me.

Tonight’s show: Andrew Bird, at Variety Playhouse. Looks like it’s going to be a blogger’s delight tonight, with Scrivener, Baby Got Books‘s Tim, and That Truncheon Thing’s Frank also clutching tickets.

* * * * * *

Livin’ La Vida Musica

Sometimes my life is fabulous. Look at this week’s clutched-ticket concerts:

Tonight: Crowded House, with opener Pete Yorn
I saw Crowded House at one of their very last shows — if not the last one — before they broke up in 1994. It was a great show, at a small venue. They’re playing at the much larger Tabernacle tonight. Will they still be great?
Song Prayer Request: "Don't Dream It's Over" and few Split Enz tunes

Thursday: Andrew Bird
I’ve never seen Andrew Bird live — I missed last fall’s show — so I’m quite excited about finally seeing him perform. He was great on Letterman a few months ago. Added bonus: I’ll see the Scriveners at the show.
Song Prayer Request: “Measuring Cups” and “Armchair”

Friday: Stevie Wonder
Cannot wait! Stevie hasn’t toured the U.S. in a dozen years, so this show is The Ticket of the Month. He’s performing at our better amphitheater — and the highs on Friday will be in the very low 80s. I’m thinkin’ it will be a night of lots lemonade with citron vodka and lots of dancing for this girl.
Song Prayer Request: “Boogie on Reggae Woman” and "Higher Ground"

But fabulous doesn’t stop there, kids. Next week is John Vanderslice with Bishop Allen (thanks to Coaster Punchman), and Ticket of the Month #2: Bob Dylan, with openers Elvis Costello and Amos Lee. And then the next week …

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Jazz Hands, Americana, and MTV

When your passion — hell, your life — revolves around music, there’s nothing more exciting than seeing one of your favorite artists in concert. Put two faves on the bill, and you know you’re in for a memorable evening. Kick off that evening dining with two great friends, and it’s golden.

So that was me last Monday evening — Rufus Wainwright and Neko Case at the Tabernacle, with a preshow dinner with FBB Scrivener and his lovely wife.

I’ve seen several concerts at the Tabernacle with the Scriveners, and we now have a routine: dinner before the show at Ted’s Montana Grill. I got there first and sat at the bar. The corner of my eye couldn’t help noticing the loving caresses the woman next to me was enjoying, so I glanced over at the dovies … and came face to face with original MTV veejay Alan Hunter! (Yeah, I’m easily excited.) I tried “accidentally” brushing his hand to get MTV cooties, but I couldn’t do it without appearing creepy. It’s probably creepy anyway that I wanted MTV cooties, isn’t it? I also wanted to do the beep-beep dance from David Bowie’s “Fashion” video (Mr. Hunter appears in it), but didn’t want to embarrass the Scriveners.

Okay, the brush with mini-greatness ended, so it’s on with the show. One of the downsides of being a slack blogger and waiting a week to review a concert is you can’t remember all the songs performed and some of the highlights. But I’ll try.


Neko Case

Let’s get the important part out of the way first: Yes, boys, Neko looked hawt. This isn’t the best photo (I own Digital Camera 1.0), but it will give you boys a hint o’ Case. She wore a short black dress, long red hair tumbling over her shoulders, and three-inch Mary Janes:

See the legs? That’s Neko.

The best surprise of the evening was one-time Atlanta Kelly Hogan (the red skirt) backing Neko on vocals. The biggest disappointment was the length of Neko’s set: your basic 45-minute opener.

Neko sounded good, although I’ve seen her livelier on stage. If memory serves, she performed “Maybe Sparrow,” “The Tigers Have Spoken,” “That Teenage Feeling,” and “John Saw That Number” — in all, maybe eight or ten songs.

I expected to see her later in a star-studded encore … but the end of the night was better than expected. I’ll get to see her again at the end of October when New Pornographers hit the Atlanta stage.

Rufus Wainwright

I am smart enough and lucky enough to see Rufus twice before — as Roxy Music’s opening act in July 2001 (he worked his own merch table, and I hugged the wee adorable one) and two summers ago at the Atlanta Botanical Garden. Both shows were fabulous, so I knew I was in for an evening.

And what a perfect evening it was.

Rufus hit the stage with star power — resplendent in a red-striped suit, baubled to the nines — and went straight into “Release the Stars.” The Tabernacle was originally a large church in downtown Atlanta and it’s a beautiful building, but the acoustics aren’t the best unless you’re sitting in the center (I was standing to the side, near the stage). Rufus’ voice, however, soared and filled the room. Lord, does he have a voice. I tingled.

Rufus opening with "Release the Stars"

He dedicated the first set to Karl Rove — “so long, fatso!” He was chatty, he was funny, he was adorable. He told us his grandmother was from Tifton (about 180 miles south of Atlanta), which means I get to claim Rufus as one of my Georgia boys (yeah, I'll stretch it for him). It was a great first set, ending with the wonderful “Between My Legs.”

Fargo’s Michael, I had one of your moments. Rufus didn’t sing any of my very favorites — no “April Fools” nor “Foolish Love,” not a note from “Cigarettes and Chocolate Milk” (a theme song of mine), not even “One-man Guy” — nevertheless it was still an amazingly phenomenal show. (“amazingly phenomenal”? Someone, please, get me a thesauraus.) I wasn’t disappointed — I walked out thrilled and giddy.

Rufus and the band took a break … and then, YES! He came back on stage wearing his lederhosen (I’d kept fingers crossed for this costume change), pronouncing “A man in lederhosen singing Judy Garland tunes — God, I’m so gay!” Not many people can pull off lederhosen, but Rufus can.

Who else can pull off the leiderhosen look?

Another great set, including one of my favorite songs — “A Foggy Day in London Town” (I sing it Ella style, while he Garlands it) — and another Judy tune.

The set ended with “14th Street,” each member of the band soloing off the stage. The coolest part of the number was the banjo player was the last to leave the stage — and his banjo solo rocked.

And then came the encore — a set that thrilled this fag-hag heart. I love acting out this set (and I’ve done it for friends maybe six times since the show ended); I hope my written retelling does it justice.

Rufus came back wearing a big, fluffy white robe, sitting down at the piano to play “I Don’t Know What It Is” and “Pretty Things.” He ended this set with his rendition of Leonard Cohen’s “Hallelujah,” his sister Lucy backing him (I was hoping for Neko, but Lucy sounded perfect with her brother).

I know many of you consider Rufus’ version of “Hallelujah” to be the definitive cover — but, much as I love Rufus, I still prefer Jeff Buckley’s heartbreaker.

And then came The Moment I Was Waiting For.

Rufus dolling up for his closing number

A stagehand brought a chair to the edge of the stage. Rufus sat down, looked at us, and put on sparkling earrings. A bracelet. Reached down to slip on a pair of black heels — now we see the black sheer hose —the crowd goes nuts. The band comes back, perfectly attired in black suits. Rufus walks to the back of the stage, his back to us … puts on that jaunty black hat … the robe falls to the floor, revealing the buttoned suit jacket ... spins forward — and Judy Garland is alive again!

Check out Rufus' Garland'ed gams!

What a number! Jazz hands and dancing! Rufus belting “Get Happy” and “Gay Messiah”! Fan-damn-tastic. Those of us who braved the post-midnight hour got what we came for: a bit of music, a bit of theater. I can't wait until Rufus' Carnegie Hall performance of the Judy Garland concert comes out this fall on DVD!

If he's coming your way, don't miss the show. Don't get the wrong idea. Rufus isn't a gay novelty act; "brilliant" and "talented" don't do him justice. If you love clever songs and a great voice, get thee to the ticket booth.

Haven’t read enough? Grabbing Sand posted a great review of Rufus’ show, and Frank at That Truncheon Thing wrote a nice piece about A Fine Frenzy, the opening opener (we missed her while I was Hunter-gawking) — so click over to read their reports.

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I Danced This Mess Around

I saw The B-52’s at Chastain Park Amphitheater last Wednesday. No, “saw” isn’t right. I danced my a** off and sang my throat raw.

What a great night! I haven’t seen the B’s in maybe fifteen years. Why did I wait so long?

UPDATE: The Beloved Ex just reminded me in the comment box that we saw The B-52's when they played at the 1998 Coca-Cola USA Christmas party — and, yes, we did all sixteen dances that holiday night, WP. Excellent party!

As I wrote last summer, I love the B-52’s. They’ve been on my top bands list since 1980. Their songs are fun, silly, danceable. I saw them once or twice during my late-1970s tenure at the University of Georgia, and I’ve seen them every decade since.

Post-UGA, I next saw The B-52’s at the Agora Ballroom in 1980 during their Wild Planet tour. I was working for our college station at the time, and Cindy and Ricky Wilson came by that afternoon for an on-air interview. They were, of course, adorable. The show highlight was Fred skipping across the stage with a dogless leash during “Quiche Lorraine.” The lowlight was Mike borrowing my Devo flowerpot hat … and never returning it.

Let’s get back to last Wednesday. The show was outdoors — on the hottest day so far this summer. And I hate humid heat. But did I let that stop me? Hell, no. I pulled back the hair, wore the lightest shirt with the least cloth-to-skin ratio, and put on my dancing shoes. Oh, and lugged a jug of Chik-Fil-A lemonade with lots of Absolut Citron. A girl needs to stay hydrated.

There were some jewels in the crowd. Beehives and bright-green hair. Fortysomethings (and oldersomethings) and kids. Every segment of fun Atlanta folks was well represented.

One of the loveliest fans at the show.

The B-52’s kicked off the show with “Mesopotamia,” and we kicked off the dancing. We heard some classics: “Private Idaho” (which Fred introduced as being “like a fine wine”), “Give Me Back My Man” (one of the best heartache songs ever), “Strobe Light,” “Roam,” “Love Shack,” “Planet Claire” (Simeon, where were you?), ending the night with “Rock Lobster.” Fabulous set — and each classic sounded amazing.

My friend and the cool chicks who sat next to us.

The B-52’s have a new album coming out soon, and we were treated to some new tunes. One of the best lines was from a song about shopping at the mall: “Faster, pussycat! Sell! Sell!” I think we heard three new songs, and the samples left me wanting that new album (comes out, I think, next month).

This is their first album in fifteen years. I haven’t seen them in fifteen years. You don’t think my apathetic non-attendances had anything to do with that, do you?

One of my favorite B-52’s-flavored memories takes us back to 1989. I was spending the day with my niece, who was then two and a half. We’d been to the Woodruff Arts Center to see Santa, and were killing time at Jake’s Ice Cream before visiting my friend and her three-legged kitten. In between bites of ice cream, Lauren stopped, glanced around, loudly sang “Love shack, bay-beeeee!”, smirked, and went back to her bowl. She may not be the true fruit of my loins, but that girl is my child.

The band looks good. Can you believe that Kate is 59? Still cute as hell. Cindy had Tina Turner legs, and worked that black mini. Fred looks the same. My old complaint is the Jumbotron didn’t show many close-ups of the ever-hot Keith.

1989 was also a memorable year for B-52’s shows: the Cosmic Thing tour. The band returned to Athens to play a show on Legion Field, a big patch o’ grass on the UGA campus (I think the university has since paved that paradise and put up a parking lot). Here I am a couple of hours before that show, in front of Wuxtry Records, Peter Buck’s former employer (and one of my favorite record shops):


The show was great, of course. How could an outdoor B-52’s show on a field not be? My friend and I picked up a virgin freshman boy sitting next to us; we took him back to his room so that he could show off his score up and down the hall. He impressed.

We later walked over to the 40 Watt Club, where R.E.M. was hosting an invitation-only party for The B-52’s. On his way in, Fred Schneider spotted a friend standing next to me and invited him into the club. Fred looked at me and said, “You come, too!” But my friend — one no longer in my circle — whined that we shouldn’t since we didn’t have an official invitation. She drove, so I didn’t go in. Never since have I let someone else drive to Athens.

My only complaint about the show: about half the audience sat during the entire show. How can anyone sit during an outdoor B-52's show? Sure, it was hot — but so was the music. I haven't given up on Atlantans, though; there was one cool family two rows below us — dad, mom, and three blonde girls between six and ten — and those five danced during the entire show, too.

Many, many, many great B-52’s memories. If you’ve never seen them, what are you waiting for?

* * * * * *

They Burned This Whole City Down

What a perfect Friday night: The Decemberists with the Atlanta Symphony Orchestra. At Chastain Park Amphitheater. On that rarest of July nights: low eighties, no humidity. A perfect setup for what proved to be a perfect show.

Pairing The Decemberists with the Atlanta Symphony was brilliant. Their songs work beautifully with an orchestra behind them, and tband seemed to get a kick out of playing with them. Plus, we got to hear the full “Tain,” which was amazing with the orchestra backing up the band! I walked out filled with joy and excitement; it was different, it was beautiful, it was fun.

The Decemberists performed a great mix, covering their entire catalog. Even though they didn’t perform any of my faves, the setlist was great.

Setlist: July 13, 2007

The Crane Wife 1 & 2
The Infanta
We Both Go Down Together
The Bagman's Gambit
Odalisque
Perfect Crime #2 *
L.A. I'm Yours
The Tain
Oh Valencia *
I Was Meant for the Stage

Encore
16 Military Wives *
The Mariner's Revenge Song *

*without the Atlanta Symphony

Several friends and acquaintances have chosen to skip past Decemberists shows — even their set at Bonnaroo — because they imagine a dour, boring stage presence.

They are so wrong.

The Decemberists have a helluva good time on stage. Colin’s banter is always entertaining — “We’d love to play your requests, but it’s hard to ask the symphony to jam in the key of E” — and he even jumped into the crowd to sample crackers at a front table (people often bring elaborate picnics to Chastain). He also sang happy birthday to a front-row patron celebrating his 94th birthday; the adorable chap later waltzed with a lovely woman all over the pit.


There’s always one song that sends the band into wonderfully delirious craziness, and Friday night’s “I Was Meant for the Stage” was our fun moment under the stars. Colin had his guitar on the ground, playing it with his mouth, his feet, and other body parts, while the rest of the gang ran around stage like little kids, banging and playing and making all sorts of wonderful noise. I always enjoy that part of their show.

It was surprising to see so many empty seats at the amphitheater, but The Decemberists have played here twice in the last ten months. The fans who stayed home missed a great show, and should hang heads and kick doors all week.

* * * * * *

Unlock My Body and Move Myself to Dance

I saw one helluva amazing show Tuesday night: Wilco. At Chastain Park Amphitheater. In the rain.

It’s been years since I last saw Wilco live — all the way back to September 2001, at the Roxy, right after Reprise Records rejected Yankee Hotel Foxtrot and they were looking for a new label home. That was a great, raucous show.

I went with the Scriveners in January to see the solo Jeff Tweedy show — with the always entertaining, always adorable Scott McCaughey as opening act. Fan-damn-tastic show, much different from what I thought I'd see. I really should have written about that one, but I was on a bit of a blog break. Scrivener tells that story well.

I was lucky enough to go with the Scriveners to see this Wilco show. Wilco is Scrivener’s R.E.M., and it’s always fun to see a concert with someone who feels that level of passion for the band. He got us seats on the tenth row, in the center. We didn’t see much of Scrivener once Wilco hit the stage, though; he moved up to the front to get photos, and watched most of the show from there. Mrs. Scrivener, my niece and I held down the tenth row.

Tweedy’s barely visible under the center spotlight

I see a fair amount of concerts every year, so getting my aural socks blown off takes a lot. Of the ten or so shows I’ve seen this year, Tuesday’s Wilco show is the best so far (followed closely, very closely, by January’s Glenn Tilbrook show; I may still write about that one, it was so fab).

I’m still mystified why Wilco doesn’t get any radio play. We have two alt-rock commercial stations in Atlanta, neither of which have played a Wilco tune to my recollection. Couldn’t they take three or four of those droning Dave Mathews songs (they all sound the same, so nobody will notice) and plug in some Wilco? My brother and sister-in-law heard some of the Wilco show broadcast from Bonnaroo last weekend, and they liked what they heard. I think most people would like the Wilco they hear. Programmers, are you listening (well, reading)?

Why was it such a great show? Well, first of all, you have Wilco on stage. A healthy, enthusiastic Wilco.

How do you get the band enthused? By dancing in the rain. Atlanta’s been suffering through one mutha of a drought this year, one of the worst we’ve had in years. So bad that planned Fourth fireworks displays are already being canceled. But not Tuesday.

It was a dark and stormy night.

The sky blue skies faded into rain clouds, clouds that soaked the city. And the Wilco show was an outdoor one. It misted during the opening act (Low), but it started pouring as soon as Wilco hit the stage. And continued to rain hard throughout the show, until the second encore.

But did that stop the Wilco fans? Hell, no! We donned rain ponchos, wiped off running mascara, and danced the night away. Glances to the back of the amphitheater showed that maybe 95 percent of us hung in for the full show, standing and dancing and singing. Abandoning the adult in the rain probably added to the greatness of the show, but it would have been kick-ass show in sunshine, too.

The niece enjoys a night soaked with Wilco

More soaked fans

The guys in Wilco got a kick out of it. Tweedy said they could see what we were standing in so he was going to “minimize the talk and maximize the rock.” And maximize they did. Those guys played their hearts out. Tweedy’s voice was lovely, perfect on a rainy night (on any night, for that matter). I think they’re better live than on albums … and they’re fabulous on their albums.

Setlist

Either Way
You Are My Face
Impossible Germany
Sky Blue Sky
I Am Trying to Break Your Heart
Kamera
Handshake Drugs
Shot in the Arm
Side with the Seeds
Shake It Off
War on War
Jesus Etc.
Hate It Here
Walken
I'm the Man Who Loves You
Hummingbird

Encore 1:
Via Chicago
Spiders (Kidsmoke)

Encore 2:
Heavy Metal Drummer
Outtasite (Outta Mind)

Sky Blue Sky is one of my favorite albums so far this year … and what a thrill it was to hear Wilco kick off the show with the first four tracks. And they performed many of my favorites. I have way too many Wilco faves to expect to hear them all. The one I most wanted to hear and dance to was “Heavy Metal Drummer,” and I got that thrill during the second encore. The rain slowed to a trickle about halfway through that number.

The aforementioned Ms. Lemke was also at the show. A Wilco newbie, she left happy and thrilled. There were two songs she most wanted to hear — “Impossible Germany” and “Jesus Etc.” — and she got to experience both.

Six years is too long between Wilco shows, I discovered. From this point on, I’ll do my damndest to catch every Wilco tour.

p.s. My photos suck. My camera got too wet, I’m a bit too short to shoot in a crowd, and I’m not a great photographer. Click over to Scrivener’s page; he’s in the process of uploading his far superior photos on Flickr.

* * * * * *

UPDATE: Check out Scrivener’s photos of the show!

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The Drought Is Over

I went to a show last night, after six dry weeks without live music. FBB (favorite blog buddy) Scrivener and I caught Great Lake Swimmers at The Earl last night. It was a damn good show.

Not familiar with Great Lake Swimmers? I wasn’t, either, until Scrivener mentioned them. I checked ‘em out on eMusic and liked the band immediately.

If you’re addicted to MP3s like I am and you don’t have a subscription to eMusic.com, you’re doing yourself a disservice. I get 90 downloads for $19.95 per month (although I think those signing up now get 75 each month). eMusic doesn’t have your Bruce Springsteens or Justin Timberlakes, but it’s a great spot for discovering new bands. That’s where I first heard The Decemberists, The New Pornographers and Neko Case, Iron & Wine, Beulah, The Pipettes, Of Montreal, and many more indie bands. eMusic has great selections in most genres. Try it today — and tell ‘em I sent you.

Great Lake Swimmers, from Toronto, remind me a bit of Sufjan Stevens, more so Iron & Wine. Tony Dekker has the most sublime voice, a voice that hooked me with the first listen of the first song, a voice like cool summer evenings under the trees. (Too corny? Okay, yeah. But it does.)

Great Lake Swimmers' Tony Dekker,
playing at The Earl last night
Shot by Scrivener, using my camera

One of the cool things about Great Lake Swimmers is they have a banjo player … but it doesn’t sound like a banjo, not in the traditional sense. It’s almost as if the banjo is played like a rhythm guitar.

Dekker was a bit shy on stage, but I was charmed by his song introductions, such as “This is ‘I Am Part of a Large Family,’ about being part of a large family.”

• GreatLakeSwimmers_IAmPartofaLargeFamily.mp3

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I Asked … and I Answered

I’ve been enjoying the interviews going around our little corner of the blogosphere, so I wildly waved my virtual hand when my new favorite blogger, Artful Dodger over at Rants Raves Life and Anything Else That Comes, ran his Gizmorox interview.

I enjoy Rants Raves etc., but I also love his nom de blog. I had a thing for Jack Wild after seeing him play the Artful Dodger in Oliver! I quit baton lessons because they were scheduled at the same time as H.R. Pufnstuf, and I was not going to miss my Wild fix. I could have been a majorette …

The Artful Dodger threw five good questions at me. Let’s see if I can give him — and y’all — interesting answers.


Artful Dodger: What was your favorite concert ever?

Cup: You had to start with the toughest question, didn’t you? So many great shows … but I’d have to say R.E.M.’s closing show for the Green tour (Fox Theater, November 13, 1989). The boys came out, started with “Radio Free Europe,” and performed Murmur all the way through “West of the Fields” … took a break … came back, performed Green from beginning to end … then played “Wild Thing,” “Fall on Me,” “Low,” and “Finest Worksong.” Scrivener was there, too (and one of these days, I’ll dig up that boot and make you a copy, sir). It was the last time I heard a lot of those songs played live.

First runner-up: The Warren Zevon show at Center Stage in January 1991 … because I got a backstage pass … and Warren kissed me. I need to tell that story sometime …


AD: Name your top five favorite albums of all time and why.

C: I’ve covered them in my soundtrack series (which returns in May), so here are the albums and the links to those posts (these posts are damn interesting, I must admit, so click away):

• R.E.M.: Murmur: Probably my favorite album ever.

• The Beatles: Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band: The album that changed my life and turned me into a music fanatic.

• Rolling Stones: Let It Bleed: I think it’s the best Stones album. And who can live without a Stones album on your top-five list?

• Warren Zevon: Excitable Boy: One of the best songwriters I’ve ever heard. He could tell a great, vivid story in just three or four minutes. And the weirdest sense of humor …

• Ella Fitzgerald & Louis Armstrong: Ella & Louis: We grew up listening to the standards, and nobody can sing ‘em like Ella and Louis. Simply brilliant.


AD: How did you get into blogging?

C: My friend Paul and I have had one helluva entertaining e-mail conversation going since 1997. We pontificate … we bitch … we make each other laugh … and we’re damned impressed with some of the words that come out of our fingers. He started bugging me a few years ago to start a blog and share that brilliance with the world. I’d become addicted to reading blogs — first Paul’s and Jeremy’s, then any interesting blog I stumbled across. Finally, one night about a year ago, I just sat down and started A Cup of Coffey. It’s been quite an experience and a good writing exercise for me.


AD: If you could go back in time and change one thing, what would it be?

C: I’d go back to around 6 p.m. on January 10, when I backed into the brick foundation of my new abode, my first day moving. This time, I’d notice the slight curve in the drive as I backed out. Still makes me sick to look at my bashed Beetle bumper. There are a couple of more private moments I’d pick first … but I’ll keep those private.


AD: What's your favorite thing to do on a rainy day?

C: Sit out on a covered porch (or in my new home, in front of the screened door to the deck) … bottle of wine next to me … book in front of me … iPod playing behind me. Or lie on the sofa and watch back-to-back-to-back-to-back movies.


Want me to interview you?
• Leave me a comment saying, “Interview me!” If your e-mail address isn’t on your blog, e-mail me.
• I’ll send you five questions.
• You’ll answer all five questions on your blog.
• Include this explanation and an offer to interview someone else in the same post.

C'mon, kids, let me get all nosy on you.

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