Friday, October 2, 1998
September Concert Reviews
Crystal Method
Shrine Auditorium
Sept. 26, 1998
The spinning rainbow of lights gradually cooled down to an eerie
blue and white flicker in the sky, and then the Crystal Method
started playing this even stranger interlude: creepy
acoustoelectric murmurs lurching up and down the ears. A group of
spaced-out goofballs started to look up and soon, spreading like a
brush fire, everybody gazed to the heavens until the whole place
seemed as if a spacecraft was about to land right in the center of
the Shrine Expo Hall. It was too cool.
Sometimes the lights went completely out, and it is interesting
– and oddly stirring – how glow sticks have replaced a generation
of burning lighters.
The raving kooks waited for some time – something must have been
up there – and then all of a sudden the Crystal Method snapped the
thunderclap. A few seconds later they were hosing down the crowd
with their signature style hard-water beats and blasts. The crowd
smiled and started to cheer. Ah, Crystal Method, you were just
joshing with us. There’s no spacecraft in the sky. Made you
look.
That’s the kind of showman fun you can’t really get at most
local raves these days because they rarely feature big-beat
personalities like the Crystal Method in their line-up (perhaps it
has to do with snobbery from underground purists or perhaps
big-beat DJs, who comprise most of electronic dance music’s
mainstream success, don’t need raves).
But it is this fun-loving, gut-inspired sound that creates
moments like this one – it’s not gunning after a cerebral awe, it
just wants to convince you that moving your feet is a darn good
time. Sure, the Crystal Method’s brand of big-beat isn’t as far-out
or musically incorporating as Fatboy Slim’s or DJ Punk Roc’s, but
the Vegas-based duo definitely have a techno backbone, and they’re
not afraid to pour out the rock ‘n’ roll licks and blatantly
pandering dance anthems to get their fans going and growing.
The Crystal Method stepped up to do turntable duty around 12:30
at the Nitris Oxide event last Saturday – housed at the super-dope,
double-stacked Shrine (burn the Palladium!) – which also featured
Josh Wink, Doc Martin, Simply Jeff, Lunatic Calm and Taylor. It
wasn’t a packed house, but there were enough people to breed
pandemonium, and that’s what happened when ears started to
recognize the beginning riffs of CM’s most prized possession.
And when the command was finally announced – "Get Busy Child"
(spun with punchier breaks than usual, a good call) – well, all you
can do is stand back, let the kids do what they want do and hope
you raised them right. The smart tikes were the ones who avoided
the dense, bouncing sea near the stage and made their own fantasy
island near the back speakers or on the second floor balcony,
because what’s so fun about watching a couple of guys messing with
a bunch of vinyls and pushing levers up and down?
Actually, though, it was sort of a treat watching the Crystal
Method twiddle and tweak their way up to a high – brilliant
meisters of the electronic crescendo. In performance they’re not
nearly as fist-waving animated as their British big-beat
counterparts, the Chemical Brothers; instead they give off a cool
dude vibe that tells us every thing is under control: let us do our
stuff so you can do yours.
In all, it was a solid, reliable party from the tag-team Method
as they revved-up most of the tracks from their otherwise ho-hum
album "Vegas." And the show was improved by some lighting
technicians who really know their stuff – the dizzying, stark
white-against-black strobe flashes were so intense that Rod
Serling’s head threatened to pop at any time. But who would have
guessed that Doc Martin, that doughboy-lovable DJ you see just
about everywhere, was the one who really got the place groovin’
with his funkiest set in a long time.
Tommy Nguyen
Duke Daniels
The Mint
Sept. 24,1998
Donning a baggy black suit and a tough-guy smile, lead singer
Dan Clark owned The Mint earlier this September for his band’s
record release performance. The heartfelt lyrics streaming forth
from the throaty-voiced front man of the local blues rock quintet,
Duke Daniels, had the packed house of friends and followers swaying
from one side of the slick lounge club to the next.
Although opening tunes tended to have more gut-wrenching emotion
and original flavor than the latter fare, which simmered to
something similar to a standard Dave Matthews rumble, Duke Daniels
maintained their thick, meaty sound consistency without falter.
The band’s debut album, "Help Is On the Way," has attracted much
attention from fellow musicians, with rumors of Beck and Jakob
Dylan having been in attendance at the intimate venued affair.
Definitely a band whose sound comes full force through speakers in
live performance, their much anticipated album gets across only a
small portion of the energy Duke Daniels musters on stage.
Vanessa VanderZanden
Liz Phair
Montezuma Hall
Sept. 24,1998
It’s been three years since Liz Phair last took the stage on a
concert tour, but it has been worth the wait. In her Sept. 24
concert at San Diego State’s Montezuma Hall, she cast aside
whatever demons have plagued her past performances and turned out a
satisfying show.
Phair and her six-piece band took the stage forty-five minutes
late, but the standing-room audience didn’t mind, enthusiastically
cheering as they took their places behind a backlit curtain. The
drums settling in to a steady thump, Phair fingered her heavily
flanged guitar and worked her way through the low-key "Explain It
To Me."
She didn’t keep this sedate persona for long, however, switching
gears to the harder-edged "6’1." Attacking her six-strings with
vigor, Phair looked animated throughout the song. This mix of
frenetic energy and laid-back jamming continued throughout the
evening, making for a well-balanced and enjoyable concert.
The show had its uneven moments, where live music couldn’t match
the precision of the studio. On "White Chocolate Space Egg," Phair
and the band seemed out of synch, with an uneven rhythm and sub-par
vocals.
"Never Said" offered excellent singing, though, with Phair
reaching to the upper end of her register and holding it easily,
but the song never seemed to completely jell. Instead of being
collaborations, these songs seemed like the band was working in
opposition to itself.
Fortunately, for the majority of the concert, everything came
together nicely. Whether trying out new material like "Uncle
Alvarez" and "Johnny Feelgood" or older numbers such as
"Supernova," "Divorce Song" and "Support System," Phair and company
were locked in together, sounding much more polished. "Polyester
Bride" was helped by new lead licks by the guitarist, Buddy Judge,
and "Cinco De Mayo" sounded stronger than its original album
form.
Phair also encouraged the audience to lend a hand with the
back-up singing to her obscene classic "Flower." Most vocals were
drowned out by the punishing, Hendrix-like feedback spilling forth
from the guitar amps, but considering the racy words the crowd was
singing, that wasn’t entirely a bad thing.
Although the concert was disappointingly short, clocking in at
slightly over an hour, it finished strongly. After exiting the
stage briefly, Phair strapped on her guitar once more for a
powerful two song encore.
Opening it with an amped-up version of "Perfect World," she
turned an understated, spare tune into a commanding, hard-driven
number, far more impressive than its original form. Once finished,
Phair smiled slyly, acknowledging the crowd.
"So what do you guys really want to hear?" she asked, bringing
forth a torrent of shouted suggestions.
When she found one to her liking, she and the band tuned and lit
up the stage with an amazing rendition of "Fuck and Run." One of
her most heartfelt and intimate songs, it took on an edgier, more
expressive feel as Phair threw her full effort into the wrenching
vocals of abandonment and solitude.
With her rich, throaty growl demanding attention, the twin
guitars drove the concert home. It was a fitting end to the night,
a combination of sharp musicianship and powerful lyrics.
Liz Phair may not be the best live performer in the business,
but with a bit of effort, she can put on a fine show.
Brent Hopkins
Tori Amos
Anaheim Pond
Sept. 18, 1998
Tori Amos’ Anaheim appearance brought together fulfilling,
polished renditions and a wayward experimentation too alien to
appreciate musically. Over the years, Amos’ sound has been under
quite a transformation. It went from piano-based, soft and smooth
pacing to electronica influenced layering and difficult
structure.
However, her lyrics remain beautiful, searching the depth of
human anguish and personal grief that are universally familiar
themes. She turns the ugliest of personal memories into melodious
reflections.
Choosing a set list reminiscent of the past and introducing an
electro future, her performance pulled songs that captivate and
perplex. "God" brought the crowd together,and the live version
captured the rousing elegance found in the lyrics. But she opted to
leave out "Crucify" and "Silent All These Years" two hits from her
debut album. "Spark," a cut from her latest disc, hearkened back to
earlier recordings,and Amos’ piano work on the song infused the raw
dark emotions with refined exquisite melodies.
Throwing in dash of electronic beat and ambience, Amos turned
into techno siren for "Raspberry Swirl," a compelling dance-along.
Amos’ vocals outshone any sampled piece of work the Chemical
Brothers might piece together.
For all of Amos’ fetching musing and piano playing, there were
moments in the show in which the music moved too far into lunacy.
Melodies and noise ran into each other while the lyrics wandered
freely, confusing and boring a majority of the crowd. But for the
loyal Amos follower, the show mix of old-school tunes with
electronic sheen was enough to overcome any lull.
Trinh Bui
Lenny Kravitz
The Greek Theater
Sept. 16, 1998
There’s something to be said for the retro movement in pop
music. There’s also something to be said for making a career out of
it.
Lenny Kravitz’s nearly-sold out funk-fest at the Greek on Sept.
16 displayed the best and the worst of the ’70s rock style his
music is influenced by. At times, the rhythms and guitar licks
reminiscent of the era which the Parliament Funkadelic and Sly
Stone ruled allowed a rather sleepy audience to get lost in the
music and move within the seats.
However, Kravitz’s extended jams often lasted too long and, with
his material almost always borrowing from the funk back catalog,
seemed too numerous for such a "modern rock" artist. The entire
show seemed too reliant on these older styles, and at times
bordered on monotony.
What’s even more frustrating is that on his recent release, "5,"
he played with different, fresher styles than on the standout,
electronic-based "Black Velveteen," but chose to feature such
rehashed soul and funk standards like "Live" and "Super Soul
Fighter" in the show instead.
Now, this isn’t to discredit Kravitz’s live performance. His
energetic and revivalist persona (seemingly unfazed by an illness
that postponed the show a day) does not compromise his guitar
playing or vocal concentration.
During his hit, "It Ain’t Over (Til’ It’s Over)," he displayed a
soulful yet soaring singing style that rarely is expressed among
rock acts.
Yet, that didn’t seem enough as Kravitz frequently had to wake
up the usual indifferent L.A. crowd – indifferent, that is, until
he played the current alt-rock hit, "Fly Away" (from his recent
album, "5"), and his signature anthem, "Are You Gonna Go My Way?"
during the last two encores.
He even entered the audience when playing his 1990 hit, "Let
Love Rule."
But even as these three moments and a few others proved why
Kravitz embodies the spirit and the spunk of a rock ‘n’ roll star,
he needs to appreciate a musical development and diversity that
makes for a great artist catalog and, consequently, a great set
list.
Mike Prevatt
12 Rounds and Vast
The Troubadour
Sept. 14, 1998
Despite the blase reaction the dark, distant-sounding industrial
riffed band 12 Rounds met with from an audience full of record
industry yuppies in jeans and white-collared shirts – who would
undoubtedly rather throw back bottles of Rolling Rock or shmooze
with each other with Cosmopolitans placed cleverly in hand than pay
attention to the gritty screeches coming from punk-haired,
face-painted lead singer, Claudia Sarne – 12 Rounds boldly tore
through their set list at a show earlier this September at the
Troubadour.
Comprised of songs from their newly released untitled debut
album, the performance allowed the up and coming group to showcase
in person the haunting tunes that bridge the gap between Portis
Head’s smooth-paced, slinky lounge groove and Marilyn Manson’s
macabre, death-toll ambience.
However, the following band, Vast, held the chatty crowd’s
attention longer, creating a more unified environment. Scenes of
bleak, gray Los Angeles streets provided a dismal background for
songs of alienation and jadedness.
At other times, a rapid-fire explosion of natural shots, from
flowers to animals, added a decadent visual ingredient to lyrics
concerned with over-stimulation and the emptiness it invokes.
Though neither band appeared well suited for the tight-roomed
venue at hand or the detached crowd before them, 12 Rounds and Vast
admirably survived a rough Monday night.
Vanessa VanderZanden
Grooverider
The Viper Room
Sept. 8, 1998
It’s been said that Grooverider (aka Codename John) has
lightened up a bit, that his infamously dark, startling brand of
U.K. jungle has been taking a walk on the mild side lately.
You ask people who’ve listened to his newest project, "The
Mysteries of Funk" (due out here on Oct. 20) and they’ll tell you
much of the same thing.
Hell, the album even has a bit of house in it, a welcome mat for
those wanting to wipe off some of that jungle mud.
But for those unacquainted with the legend that is Grooverider
or those who just came to Atmosphere a few weeks ago to bounce a
bit, they all have a question: "What are you talking about?"
With his ghoulish bassline reverberations, chronically
ill-tempered breakbeats and rinsing that invites the same kind of
soothing as watching earth’s final tidal wave rise from the ocean,
this "godfather of drum ‘n bass" is still just a mean old man – not
a rider on a groove, rather one on horseback with a sword in his
mouth.
Toward the end of the night he started to give us some hope with
some of the better mysteries of his new album slowly being
revealed.
But in the beginning of his set no one at the well over-capacity
Viper Room knew what to make of the noise: can’t really move to it,
can’t really trip on it, mostly because of Grooverider’s stinginess
when it comes to any jazz or ambient layering.
Respect to the king who started it all in drum ‘n bass, but one
thing Grooverider has to understand about playing for a young
American audience is that we can really give a fig about royalty,
ancestors or history.
If you want help the d-n-b movement in the States, you’re going
to have to start from scratch – and scratch, mind you, with just a
little less claws.
Tommy Nguyen
Matchbox 20
Universal Amphitheater
Aug. 28, 1998
One night at the Universal Amphitheater proves that a band
carried only by nostalgic memories of grunge-filled bliss cannot
outshine the dark charm of a fresh band riding on the wave of poppy
hits.
On Aug. 28, Soul Asylum joined Matchbox 20 for an expected
combination of veteran passion and mediocre-Top Forty beats.
Surprisingly, Matchbox 20 gave a boost of fresh life to their
ho-hum melodies while Soul Asylum faded into the slump of rock
has-beens. Soul Asylum started their set off with a balk of
unrestrained energy. Unfortunately, the following ten songs became
more tiresome and less interesting with every electric chord.
The true highlights of their performance included, of course, a
sing-along old favorite "Runaway Train" and the professional
instrumental solos delivered by each member of the band. Sadly,
awkward dancing and uninspiring melodies weighed the performance
down beyond forgiveness.
Matchbox 20, however, gave the fans their money’s worth by
creating an entertaining set filled with energized melodies and
trippy visual effects.
The crowd jumped immediately to their feet the instant the huge
red curtain lifted and the first chords hit their ears. The band
made songs such as "Girl Like That," "Real World" and "3 a.m." a
beat or two faster and a decimal louder, giving the performance the
electricity lacked on their album, "Yourself or Someone Like
You."
In front, a stark, strange video backdrop lead singer Rob Thomas
delivered almost his entire album without monotony, as well as a
few covers such as Sinead O’Connor’s "Nothing Compares To You."
This slow, sweet acoustic number delivered during the band’s
much-appreciated encore was but one example of the talent of a
seemingly dull and overly mainstream act.
Michelle Zubiate
GENEVIEVE LIANG/Daily Bruin
Tori Amos sings at the Greek Theatre during a concert held in
mid-December.
MICHAEL ROSS WACHT/Daily Bruin
Liz Phair performs at the Mayan Theatre.
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© 1998 ASUCLA Communications Board