The (mis)Adventures of Madame K

Rasputina: Highline Ballroom 10/29/11

2011-10-29T23:45:00.004-04:00

Something happened this evening that in my 10 years of attending Rasputina shows, has never happened before...

They were late.

They were INCREDIBLY late. Thankfully, I'm a sociable person and got to meet very friendly and talkative people that helped pass the time rather beautifully. Unfortunately, because they were late, we got an abbreviated show.

There was a buzz in the crowd, you could feel the impatience elevating like heat. The demand for waitresses to fill patrons cups increased as the minutes waiting stretched on. We all kept looking over at the nude stage with eager embarrassment. We were all here for a show after all. Then a second event occurred that I'd never witnessed at a Rasputina show. A sudden stirred frenzy of activity began with a loud THUMP as equipment was hurled onto the stage by a roadie. An epic swarm of people began flying all over the place. Amps, pedals, a simple drum kit, and two large black cello cases were brought out. Then Daniel DeJesus stepped out and began tuning and prepping the cellos. All the clever mystery of their stage performance was revealed in the ragtag soundcheck. The quilts weren't even laid out!

Then a clearly stressed Melora stepped out in a pale lavender corset with a coordinating shredded lace lavender skirt, and a blue and white striped silk top that she wore only the sleeves of- the rest buttoned and worn across her back like a cape. One peekaboo glance at her legs and feet revealed a shock of bright cyan and dark blue vertical striped stockings with platform stiletto aquamarine pumps. She turned to us let out a strained smile and curtsied as the audience mildly applauded. Lead cello soundcheck let to a brief acapella rendition of "In Old Yellowcake" which, frankly, tickled me. An apology was given to the crowd. Apparently her home in Hudson Valley which normally only takes an hour or two to get to New York City from, instead took them TEN HOURS. That's what happens when it SNOWS in October, I suppose.

Melora is a professional, no two ways about it- she runs a tight and efficient ship- they plowed through an impressive and dynamic set that still maintained Rasputina's core outlandish stylings. Honestly, it boils down to the expression, "it was short an sweet." While I was disappointed that we didn't get more tunes, I've seen them enough times to not let it affect my love affair with them.

What was very nice to see was the mutual affectionate glances passed between Daniel, Dawn, and Melora. Their cohesion as a trio is becoming more seamless, and the music is benefitting greatly from it. They shared the same stress and trauma of their delay, and rather than being frustrated when they reached their instruments, they used the excess adrenalin to play wildly well. Eleven songs, all packing a punch were brought to the cabaret style tables. I hope it's not too long until I see them again, maybe with some new songs? Preferably when the weather is better.

The Shortest Rasputina Setlist I've ever seen, but it was still good...

Hunter's Kiss

1816, was the year without a Summer

Holocaust of Giants

Secret Message

Sweet Sister Temperance

Identity Tokens

Momma was an Opium Smoker

Transylvanian Concubine

Any Old Actress

Saline

Retinue of Moons/Infidel is Me

Oh, did I mention I was dressed as a Native American CHIEFT-RESS?!

Zola Jesus at Le Poisson Rouge

2011-10-28T19:07:00.046-04:00

For a second I thought that it was just a coincidence that they were playing Zola Jesus' "Swords" over the PA after Kate Bush came on. I thought this until the stage began to swell with human life. From where I stood I could see a violinist, a synth player, drummer, and keyboard player. They were all uniformly dressed in telltale black, and they all had dark hair in the blue stage light that hung over their faces dramatically. It all seemed so very GOTH... something I haven't seen or appreciated in a long time.

Then a frail looking form of a waif came out in faded acid wash skinny jeans, an oversized white shirt, & an auburn fur vest. Her shockingly white platinum hair hung in heavy locks about her face. The lack of color to her hair was amplified by her nearly translucent pale skin, which was graphically contrasted by her dark, thin, and delicately manicured eyebrows. Her petite frame shocked me! She couldn't possibly be more than five feet tall and 90 pounds. I questioned whether she was human... Or Gelfling! I kept waiting for the moment of danger when she'd jump and reveal her wings like Kira, who was no doubt an ancestor of Zola Jesus. As the sound of "Swords" came to a close over the PA, I became concerned that this was going to be a "Push Play" type of performance, like Ladytron or Sleigh Bells had been. When all the music happens in post production and the proverbial man behind the curtain is revealed to be a talentless hack at the live stage performance.

I am happy to report that in the case of Zola Jesus, this is not how it went down.

Real drums, an audible electric violin, and a synth churned out living and breathing auditory pulsations to the new single "Avalanche". Then, the moment of fact or fiction was upon us. "Can Zola sing? Does her voice in concert match the vocal stylings that are so haunting, powerful, and prevalent on her studio albums?"

The answer is Yes. An unfaltering, blood curdling, bone shaking YES! The little elfin frame of Zola Jesus joyously produced a true voice of somber depth, of mournful wails, and of throaty expressive yearning. That girl can sing- and she did her goth godmothers proud! I was so relieved to discover that her set of pipes exist in the material world, and not just thanks to studio magic. Her backing band was great too, a very successfully blended concoction of synth and live instrumentation. Their stage presence was a little stiff, but Zola tried to counter that with some wild flailing and tribalistic neo-goth dancing during the bridges. I can't seem to fault the band, really, it's to be expected, the music IS very moody. When you listen to Zola Jesus it immediately gives you the impression that you're in a dark Siberian cave, gnawing on bones and crying.

Overall, I'd say Zola Jesus is an excellent new talent whose voice and songs are powerful and well produced both in recording and on stage, and the only key element missing (for me) from the show, was, a slight touch of theatrics. Nothing too heavy handed, mind you, but I think Zola and her band are still searching for their visual representation, style, and look. Will this tiny little missing ingredient keep me from seeing Zola live again? Hell no. I look forward to the next dimly lit room with Zola's mournful wails ricocheting off the walls, and so should you.

Set List:

Swords (over the PA)

Avalanche

Hikikomori

Stridulum

Collapse

Sea Talk

In Your Nature

Shivers

Seekir

Lick the Palm of the Burning Handshake

Night

Ixode

Vessel

Run Me Out

My Brightest Diamond at Littlefield

2011-10-16T15:13:00.000-04:00

I emerged from the venue Littlefield, covered in confetti, smiling with sparkles in my eyes, and a golden pom pom in my hand. My face hurts from smiling. My Brightest Diamond & yMusic brought the house down commemorating the release of their joint-effort record "Everything Will Unwind". Their performance was the entire album in order, and my God, what an amazing work of art. The collaborative styling and mixture of such talented musicians made for an incredible live performance, one that I am happy to say I got to enjoy now, twice.

It's a special gift when you witness a group of musicians absolutely in love with the melodies they are making. As I glanced at each face on the stage (there were quite a few), I saw the same memorable expression... a slight ethereal smile, with the eyes gently closed. It was a beautiful thing to witness, such admiration amongst the musicians. I was too busy dancing in my place, lip-syncing the words excitedly, and gesticulating in time with the violins, drums, or what ever unexpected delicious sound was about to pop up to express the quiet reflection the musicians exhibited, but, I figured my enthusiasm was appreciated*. The flautist in particular stole my heart away with her passionate playing. I've never seen someone use such an unexpected instrument as a form of non-verbal expression, but in this case, I felt like she was communicating more than words could ever say. Her eyebrows furrowed with every puckered blow, then raised with every short succinct breath, the sound tittering out of that hollowed metal instrument added such a coy and playful depth to every song, I couldn't get enough of it! The flute, I've discovered is an incredibly underused instrument of human expression.

Now, let me take a moment to talk about the brightest shining diamond I've ever seen, Ms. Shara Worden. Her band was donning all black with a small sliver of shocking orange, red, and yellow felt flowers pinned discreetly on their persons, each placement varied as wildly as the instruments they played. I felt that these little pieces represented more than just their unity as a group, but also, that these musicians are a part of Shara's overall musical vision. Shara emerged demurely from the back of the stage smiling faintly and batting her eyelashes coyly. She was clad in colors of the sun this night, red-orange, yellow, and fiery balls of crinoline joyously decorated her form, then BOOM an eerie papier-mâché mask was placed upon her face, addition and subtraction symbols were slipped on her hands, and a strange ceremonial like dance was performed while the opening orchestration played. The music built up until we heard the playful, powerful, and poetic opening track to the album "We Added it Up".

I think the first thing that hits me about Shara Worden is her unabashed approach to sound. As fragile as her form appears, her voice and the music wallop you upside the head, and demand your undivided attention, and if you're anything like me, you're glad to give it. The way the music flowed from track to track made you able to be whisked away and not even notice that you were in a crowded room (or even on earth) anymore. As well as I knew the music this night, I was still able to be positively floored by the intensity of the sound. In particular, the performance of "Be Brave" with the transition straight into "Ding Dang" hit me right in my chest. I mean this both figuratively and literally- Shara's voice belting out a lyrical demand of courage made my heart ache with inspiration. That was then paired with the deep hit of the bass drum in the middle of "Ding Dang" that actually made my sternum vibrate and had me whisper an overwhelmed "WHOA". This adoring ache continued persistently throughout the performance, and erupted just as she flew back out of the stage for an encore and played a wildly energetic version of my favorite My Brightest Diamond song, "Apples".

The best part of this new album and this live performance from My Brightest Diamond, for me, is how distinctly individual and unique each song is. The friend I brought with me had never heard anything from My Brightest Diamond before- I don't know if you've ever gone to a show of a band you've never heard of, but, in general, when you go to a show, you go away with an idea of the music's direction and style, but because you didn't really know any of the songs, they all tended to sound similar. I knew that my buddy would walk away and be able to remember and identify each individual song, yet still understand the body of work as a unified idea. It turned out to be a completely accurate assumption. This to me is exemplary of the music created by Shara Worden and yMusic. You can't possibly forget them or their sound. You'll be walking away from their concert humming the tunes whether you're a novice to their sound or a seasoned My Brightest Diamond veteran.

I don't want you to think Shara was all business either, no, she wasn't just up there to sing and play music lovingly with her good friends... she was there to entertain. Well, entertain she did! From start to finish we got one hell of an enthusiastic performance, complete with ceaseless frenzied dancing, balloons, metallic streamer pom-poms that were thrown out to the crowd- where Shara goofily demanded us to shake them about by shouting "Let me see ya SHAKE THOSE POM-POMS!", not to mention a seemingly endless supply of confetti thrown out by the handful. By the time I left the show you would've thought I was in a parade, which essentially, I was.

We Added It Up
Reaching Through to the Other Side
In the Beginning
Ymusic instrumental
Escape Routes
Be Brave
Ymusic instrumental
She Does Not Brave the War (but She Saves the Day)
Ding Dang
There's a Rat!
Ymusic instrumental
High Low Middle
Everything is in Line (accompanied by her BFF DM Stith)
I Have Never Loved Someone
Apples

*incidentally, it was, not two seconds after the show ended, did the violinist come out and thank me for my energetic display!

Portishead at Hammerstein Ballroom 10/4/11

2011-10-05T23:56:00.091-04:00

One word, chill. That was it. This is the only word needed to describe the vibe of the Portishead show. The beats, the voice, the visuals, and especially the crowd- every last thing whether living or synthetic, was chill. We were all there to nod our heads to the beat and listen in dumb silence to the spellbinding siren call of Adrian Utley. The hush that befell the crowd was incredible and rare to behold. I could hear the buzz coming off of the amps. It was like being in a church for a funeral mass! The eager swarms of people packed in to Hammerstein Ballroom would break into respectful adoring applause only when appropriate. Although there were a select few that would call out in the middle of the show for a sense of comic relief- most people kept their mouths shut and their ears open. This is something I don't think I've ever witnessed at a concert before.

The visuals projected on the large screen behind the band added to the overall ambience of the room- hypnotic vortexes of black and white shapes, grotesque cartoons, smoldering sunsets, and Rothko-esque blocks of color pacified and intrigued all in the same instant. It made my less than perfect view more bearable. All those bodies pressed up against each other listening to those chill bass notes and synths was a strange contrast, but one I didn't mind too much. It was a sold out show to the Hammerstein Ballroom on Tuesday night, and it was only by luck and timing that I got to go at all- so, why should I complain? Besides, it was too cool in there to be stressed out.

I wish I could tell you more but I'm getting so relaxed just thinking about the show that it borderlines on apathy and now I don't really feel like writing! I close my eyes and I can still see the eerie dream like projections of the band, the random words scattering across the screen, cartoons, scribblings breathing like they were alive to the rhythm of the music... I can still hear the drone and the beat, I can smell the surprisingly pleasant smell of weed mixed with perfume... as I write this, I can feel my head begin to nod to the beats all over again.

Just, chill.

Set List:

Silence

Hunter

Mysterons

The Rip

Sour Times

Magic Doors

Wandering Star

Machine Gun

Over

Glory Box

Chase The Tear

Cowboys

Threads

Encore:

Roads

We Carry On

Jon Brion at Le Poisson Rouge 10/3/11

2011-10-04T10:00:00.096-04:00

Jon Brion stood before the audience with his lanky form, with his limp dark brown hair drooping in long locks that covered his enthusiastic face and gracious smirk. Donning a dark grey pin stripe suit, with a light shirt that was offset by a pastel tie with angled stripes- he looked like a classical musician about to sit before a piano and lull us into peaceful oblivion. At times, he was this classical pianist and he did grace our ears with a somber melodramatic tune that struck the nerves at an emotional angle... But, Jon Brion is a musician's musician- playing one instrument and one style of music simply won't satisfy him.

Flanked by an array of pedals, guitars, a xylophone-like instrument, various noisemakers, synthesizers, a piano, countless keyboards, a drum kit, & audio/visual manipulators, Jon Brion's stage looked more like a mad scientists laboratory then your standard concert setting. I can tell you, he lived up to the visual precedent! Muttering to himself, humming an unknown tune, throwing his guitar picks frantically into the air, and jumping frantically all about the stage, Jon Brion reminded me of Renfield in that infamous London asylum making preparations for "Master". The only difference here was that all that frantic movement had a purpose beyond blood lust. You see, his maniacal jaunts about the stage involved prepping guitars, banging at the drums to prepare for a loop, and rapping away at the baby grand piano before laying his hands on audio/visual turn tables.

All that drama had an impressive effect on the audience, who over time became infected with the same frantic lunacy that Mr. Brion seemed to possess. Most of the show involved audience members comically shouting out a variety of song requests like lunatics between songs. The noise became so overwhelming, that you could barely make out any words! It was a true cacophonous din in that cramped the little venue, but the pleasant part was that the requests were out of adoration, not drunken idiotic aggression.

One of the most memorable moments of the concert came when Jon Brion invited hip hop artist K-Flay to the stage to do a duet of a stripped down version of R Kelly's "Feelin' on Yo Booty". Man, my cheeks hurt from smiling so much. It was a REALLY good song musically, but, of course the lyrics just made me giggle uncontrollably. Immediately after the cover ended, Jon convinced K-Flay to stay for some freestyle, and she delivered some awesome rhymes with her smooth flowing yet gently raspy voice. I make no claim that I would know good rhymes from bad ones, but, her inflection kicked ass, she had a good rhythm and pace, and her voice was unique.

By the end of the show, I could tell one thing for certain, almost everyone in there could sing, and were most likely music majors- and here's my proof; Jon actually got the entire audience to begin singing the words to the Beach Boys classic "God Only Knows (What I'd be Without You)" while he handled the musical accompaniment. It was perfectly pitched, and a LOT of fun to hear so many people happily singing. Right after this chorus-line performance, Jon Brion literally WOWED the shit out of me, by doing a musical medley montage that began with music of the 1920s, and then played a tune for every decade... until he finally made his way back to 2011.

I've never seen or heard anything like the show put on by Jon Brion, it was truly impressive... especially it was all done on a whim with just one talented man, a/v projectors, and a stage covered in instruments. Here's hoping Jon Brion sets up camp in NYC for a little while, and gives us some more shows, like he does in LA at Club Largo.

Here's my makeshift set list-- I didn't know a good portion of the songs or their names, really, I went because I knew if Jon Brion came to my town, I should definitely catch him...

She's Funny that Way
Meaningless
Someone Gets You
Why do You Do This to Yourself
Baby You're a Different Girl
Will You Get Over Yourself
Beating Up My Heart
Same things
Wrinkle in my forehead... (this was the beginning lyrics of the song)
...when I'm sad
?
Making Plans for Nigel (XTC Cover)
Love of My Life, So Far
...and an EPIC guitar solo
Off the Wall w/ a brief segue into Gary Glitter's Rock& Roll
Trial and Error
Feelin on Yo Booty (RKelly Cover) with K-Flay
K-Flay free style
God Only Knows (What I'd be Without You) (Beach Boys Cover)
1920s- 1990s and beyond-- Including Jimi Hendrix, The Beatles, Foreigner, Nirvana, Outkast and many more!

Patrick Wolf at Le Poisson Rouge 09/18/11

2011-09-19T22:00:00.052-04:00

I could regale you with yet another tale of technical proficiency, raw talent, poetry, and beauty that happened at last night's Patrick Wolf show at Le Poisson Rouge... but, really, who wants to hear me repeat myself over and over again? SO, I'll keep it quick. Last night's show was nothing short of wonderful and miraculous. Not only had I managed the SAME EXACT best seat in the house (as in front row, directly in front and beneath the center mic), but I was surrounded by wonderful fans who by the end of the night would become some new friends of mine. Later on, I was greeted by a mischievous Patrick who a quarter into the show, looked down at me, and in joking condemnation says "Krissy! Can you see the set list?!" Seeing as how I COULD NOT, I shook my head "No" only to receive the rebuttal, "Oh, so you're JUST PSYCHIC then?!" No, Patrick I am not psychic, I have just listened to your music so damned much, that I can recognize what you're about to play by the 3rd chord in... and I'm sure I am not alone in this gift.

Much like the previous night, it began with a bang, and was rather serious, and then... that proverbial necktie would begin to loosen, and before you knew it- Patrick was draping his lanky form across the piano and harp and any other inanimate object, and say he was in a "very drapey" sort of mood thanks to the days photo shoot. It was really such a treat having Patrick and Victoria be so candid with the audience, and with each other. I couldn't help but be moved at the sight of Victoria Sutherland- when after Patrick dedicated "Godrevy Point" to her Aunt that was in the audience began to cry. As Victoria attempted to compose herself, I felt the tears in my own eyes begin to well up (you see I have a strict rule that NO ONE cries alone in my presence), and then- the tears came rolling down as Patrick walked over and gave his dear friend and fellow player a warm and supportive hug. It was one of the sweetest things I've ever witnessed on a stage and in a concert setting. That sense of uplifting kindness, that genuine tenderness, was evident throughout the entire evening, but, in that one moment, it was the very culmination of positive energy.

Patrick unabashedly shared more stories about the truth and history behind his songs, and, a personal triumph for me was that he obliged to play the song I had asked him to play the night before, "The Tinder Box". He revealed that the song, although based on a Hans Christian Anderson tale by the same name, was actually painfully autobiographical and far too personal to put directly on an album. The b-sides, it turns out, are where he puts his "diary" songs, and revealed that to hear them is like being told a secret about him, and that it always flatters him to hear that people love to listen to them.

There was a lot of bittersweet moments as the night came to a close, you see, Patrick and Victoria seemed to have enjoyed their short stint playing the West and East Coast, and had a hard time saying goodbye to it... This was especially evident at the close of the show, when, a small gathering of fans hung around outside the club doors inside Le Poisson Rouge, and was rewarded with what can only be described as an impromptu Q&A meet and greet- that lasted far longer than anyone could've anticipated.

Now, (obviously) I am not a timid person, and at this point I am comfortable enough to not only grab a seat next to Patrick but to also give him a silly gift. You see, the night before he had mentioned his woes of misplacing a plastic Halloween cup he got in one of our "Halloween Scene" type stores, so, knowing that England hasn't caught up to America on the sheer awesomeness of Halloween paraphernalia, I took it upon myself to buy him a set of plastic crystal skull goblets (with spinal cord stems). Man, what a worthwhile purchase that turned out to be, because the second he got that thing unwrapped he dumped his drink straight into it and began casually joking around with us. I think the pictures say it all...

The WONDROUS Set List:

Overture
Time of m life
Bermondsey st
Damaris
The Days
The Railway
Tristan
Wind in the Wires
Tinderbox
The Future
All I Want (Joni Mitchell)
Land's end
The Falcons
Pigeon Song
House
Top of the City (Kate Bush)
The City
Godrevy point
Together

Bluebells
Enchanted
The Magic Position

Patrick Wolf at Le Poisson Rouge 09/17/11

2011-09-18T10:00:00.072-04:00

Saturday night was an episode of VH1 Story Tellers, featuring the music and comedic musings of Patrick Wolf. From start to finish, the show was relaxed, a little unorthodox, and full of positive energy. I felt like I was in Patrick's living room, drinking milk and eating cookies, and sharing a hearty laugh with him and his violinist, Victoria. This is just one of the things that keeps me coming back to see Patrick Wolf in concert, his magnetism and warmth with his audience is unparalleled.

Then there's the music. Surrounding the stage was a grand piano, a set of violins, a ukulele, a harp, a baritone ukulele, and an Appalachian dulcimer. Bear in mind it's just Patrick and Victoria on the stage, so, these instruments were all going to be played at some point by Mr. Wolf's or Ms. Sutherland's deft and capable hands. I must say that although my ear is without musical expertise or knowledge, I thought they played them exceptionally well. There was a delicate balance maintained between technical accuracy and creative personality that I appreciated immensely. I think this balance is vital and not many musicians can manage it- let alone maintain it, and I truly believe that Patrick and Victoria achieved this effortlessly. Patrick in particular that evening was dancing around the stage, swooping down and snatching up the instruments, plucking away at their strings and checking their sound and tuning before delving in head first into the emotional realms of his very personal music. He switched things up between nearly every song. There was truly only one particular instrument that evening that remained a constant, and that was Patrick Wolf's voice. Not once did it falter, not once did it break, and never did he shy away from belting out a note. This, for me was Patrick's greatest triumph of the evening. His voice has become his greatest asset to his concert.

There was much laughter, and a LOT of intimate kidding around going on for much of the show. Let me put it to you this way, if there was a neck tie wrapped around Le Poisson Rouge's neck at the beginning of the show, well, the knot was undone, loosened, and properly tied around LPR's forehead by the end of the evening! Between Patrick cussing, doing fun little vocal exercises and sound effects, and sharing anecdotes about the origin of each song, you felt like you were watching a cabaret variety act in between a classically trained musicians performances.

Better still was the fact that Patrick really put in an exceptional effort to say hello and show appreciation to the fans. Before the show started, Patrick surprised everyone by greeting us before we entered the hall to take our seats! Decked out in a sequined top resembling chain-mail, sporting his shock top head of burnt red hair- he was all grins and glad to say hello, sign autographs, give out hugs, and take pictures with anyone who would ask. The kindness didn't stop there, either, for he graciously appeared at the end of the show as well, to have some more small talk, sign more autographs, and take even more pictures with fans.

My personal experience of the night with Mr. Wolf and his wonderful supporting crew was beyond expectations, and, since this is a personal journal of sorts, I figured it's OK to share! I was almost denied at the door, DESPITE the fact that I had purchased my tickets well over a month ago, by some strange technical error- they had lost my ticket! I was about to go into full panic attack mode, until, like an angel from heaven, a beautiful woman by the name of Sam whipped her head 'round, asked me my name, and said "Put her on my guest list- make sure she gets in." I could of kissed her! Turns out, she's Patrick's manager, and when I (repeatedly) thanked her, all she could say was that she knows that feeling, and didn't want to see anyone else go through it when she could help it! That sort of kindness is rare, and I consider myself very fortunate to have encountered it.

Another stroke of good luck came in the form of my Classic Le Poisson Rouge membership, which allowed me and my friend front of line access to the show! I was the first person to be let in and downstairs, which also means I was the first to be surprised with Patrick's appearance. Although, I must say, I think I managed to surprise Patrick as well, considering he kind of knows me... I was greeted with a warm "hello Krissy", a hug, and a question on how I managed front of line! He laughed and acknowledged my "golden ticket" and then told me he had eaten at an outdoor festival (my guess is San Gennaro), and thought of me and all my culinary adventures. This came as a bit of a surprise to me... because it implies that Patrick Wolf ACTUALLY READS his follower's twitter accounts- something I found astounding and wonderful.

A lot of great conversation was shared before and after the incredibly vivacious acoustic show, but, all I can hear in my ears and see in my minds eye is, Patrick's warm smile, and his casual complement to me... "Ah, Krissy, I love your energy".

Here's the exceptional setlist:

Mercia

House

Hard times

Time of my life

Railway house

Wolf Song

Paris!

The Future

Pigeon song

London

The falcons

Together

Armistice

Top of the city (Kate Bush)

The City

The Magic Position

Bermondsey Street

The End...

My Brightest Diamond at Castle Clinton

2011-07-17T21:21:00.075-04:00

I love this lady's moves!

I'm an avid fan of the eccentric lead vocalist. So, it should come as no surprise that I leapt at the chance to see the enigmatic band, My Brightest Diamond for FREE at the historic Castle Clinton in Battery Park as part of the NYC River to River Festival!

What an incredible opportunity and gift this show was! The venue was unique and distinctly New York City. Castle Clinton is an outdoor venue setting in a former fort that was built to protect New York from foreign invaders in the 1800's. The small stage was speckled with lights and instruments set before 600 white folding chairs arranged in comfortably spaced rows. There was even a moderately priced concession stand! The turn out was surprisingly low, considering My Brightest Diamond has sold out a 1000 seat capacity venue, maybe the rain earlier in the day had scared people away? Whatever the case, it was lucky for me, because by some miracle of God I managed to snag a seat in the second row! What a stellar view I had!

As the sun's heat began to die down in intensity, we were warmly greeted by the host for the concert as well as Castle Clinton's own park ranger Jim. As I'm a person effected by the vibes of the crowd and stage at concerts, I'm happy to report that the waves of positive energy were radiating! The opening act was music performed by My Brightest Diamond's supporting orchestra for the evening, yMusic. We were regaled with exquisite contemporary arrangements. Meticulously timed and well developed, yMusic's orchestrations were clean, intricate, and expertly layered- not to mention whimsical. I haven't had that much fun listening to an orchestral performance since... Well, ever!

Just as the rigorous applause began to quiet down, it inevitably started again, as the songstress Shara Worden emerged from her hiding place back stage. Dressed in a shocking electric blue satin dress and adorned with what can only be described as a hunch back cape of hot pink and flaming orange taffeta poof balls and shreds of ribbon. Her small head blossomed out of the costume like the single head of a calla lily. Her black hair was slicked back and into a small curl at the side of her head. Her eyes were dark, her mouth tiny and ready to express itself.

The Sun was Setting as Shara played...

Seeing Shara Worden perform is like watching my inner teenager cut loose. Never have I felt such a kindred spirit! Her coy smile and demure manner and conversation before a song gives you no clue to the uninhibited power about to be unleashed upon you with her bluesy inflections and shameless dancing. I envy the shameless audacity of Shara's voice, her lyrics, and especially her movement. It's a common theme found among my favorite performers, for sure. There's a certain purity to Shara though that is distinctly her own. This purity makes her unique, and strikes me at my core. I know the feeling she emulates. I am not an exceptional performer because I have a phobia of cutting my own reservations loose like that. I see Shara Worden sing and I question myself. I feel a connection to her because she allows you to access her as a musician. Her performance becomes a tribalistic offering. It was as if the stage was an altar and I was an attendee at an emotional mass. Part of this vibe comes from My Brightest Diamond's pronounced influences. This petite white woman is clearly inspired by soul and blues. The influences have deepened in recent years since Shara has moved to Detroit. She even shared with us a story to give you a sense of the blues community, faith, and dedication.

"Every Sunday this old man would roll out a carpet in front of his house and he and his friends would gather and sing the blues all day... The old man died and his house was knocked down... yet his friends still come and gather outside of the spot where hi house stood, roll out that carpet, and kept on singing the blues..." Shara smiled and her eyes looked out and got lost in the memory of it. She said you could here it carry itself to you on the wind, and it was beautiful. This story alone was inspiring. I can only imagine what it's like to be there and to hear it for myself.

Jessica Dessner

The brevity of this style of music and the depth of emotion is what makes My Brightest Diamond such a powerful show to witness. They premiered songs from their yet to be released album that's due to come out in October as well as three instrumental pieces Shara specifically composed for yMusic, which were accompanied by dance interpretations by Jessica Dessner. While I was a little disappointed that I didn't get to hear any songs familiar to me, all the new music was an abundant consolation! The dance pieces were intriguing and odd, to say the least. Especially when considering Shara adorned her head with an anime-esque mask that stared vacantly out as Jessica pranced about. Between Jessica's interpretive dance, Shara's wild gesticulations and howlings, and yMusic's beautiful orchestral accompaniments... there was never a dull moment!

My Brightest Diamond is the kind of group whose shows you can go to knowing absolutely nothing about them... and leave in love. I even have hard evidence of this- my friend who decided to come with me- who knew absolutely nothing about My Brightest Diamond- turned and smiled at me at the end of the show and said, "That was my favorite show we've seen together so far."

Here's a Very Rough Set-List:
1. Love binds the world
2. Reaching Through to the Other Side
3. Orchestra Performance and Special Interpretive Dance by Jessica Dessner
4. In the beginning, hallelujah
5. Escape Routes
6. "The flood"
7. Orchestra Performance and Special Interpretive Dance by Jessica Dessner
8. Velvet curtain
9. A rat!
10. Orchestra Performance and Special Interpretive Dance by Jessica Dessner
11. For her son, "about the breeze"
12. High low middle
13. Everything is in Line
14. Be my husband man

2011-07-12T13:12:00.000-04:00

The Hurricane Club is my 1st stop for Restaurant Week!

Florence + The Machine at Central Park Summerstage 06/24/11

2011-06-26T10:33:00.000-04:00

We staved off the thunderclaps and the howling rain by putting on funny rain boots and by packing hideous yet awesome red plastic ponchos in our bags. Isn't that always how it works? Wear rain boots so it WON'T rain. So, I'd like to say "you're welcome" to the endless throngs of irritating morons that were in attendance at the Florence + The Machine show at Central Park Summerstage this past Friday. Yes, I believe me and my friend were the reason that it in fact did NOT rain and destroy the sold out Florence show, and beliefs are hard to shake. Now, on to the more daunting task... explaining why I referred to the majority of people in attendance as "endless throngs of irritating morons".

If you don't know already, Central Park Summerstage is a large general admission outdoor arena surrounded on all sides by concession stands selling top-quality overpriced crap to consumers. While some services are "inspired" ("Come charge your dying electronic equipment in the AT&T Tent") to outright thievery ($7 for a warm dixie cup of cheap white wine) it's overall just one big shit show of Urban American consumerism. Having this insight about Central Park Summerstage, my friend and I decided to hang back from it until the very last possible minute, for as we all know with any concert, once you enter you cannot escape.

Sorry, this is the best I could do.

Once we finally did enter, we were immediately overwhelmed by the epic cues surrounding us from all sides. Want to use the port-a-potty? Better get in line and have a napkin handy. Want a wristband to consume alcohol? Better have your ID out and ready and get in line. Want to consume alcohol? Be ready to have your wallet emptied and get in line. Want to see the show? Well, there's a line for that too. All of the concert goers were nasal pitched cattle being herded left and right all around me. My friend and I abandoned all ventures for refreshments, and attempted to stake out a spot to enjoy the show from. This, it turned out was an impossible task.

The problem with any outdoor arena show is that the sound ends ABRUPTLY from about 100 feet from the stage. This doesn't normally bother me so much, because usually the people who paid good money to go to a concert SHUT THE FUCK UP and listen to the music as it is being performed in front of them. This was NOT the case at Florence + The Machine. From start to finish most of what I heard was mindless chattering of silly girls and slurred grunts from sweaty drunken oafs drowning out the ethereal notes of Ms. Welch. What's worse, the cacophonous din of idiocy would end the SECOND the song had ended in order for these neanderthals to let out some off key "WOO'S". Don't get me wrong, I like to enjoy a nice recreational conversation as much as the next broad, but at a concert, I try to keep those conversations BETWEEN songs. It got so bad, that I barely RECOGNIZED some of the songs Florence was singing! The only thing worse than that was that she chose to perform NEW songs I haven't even heard yet, and they were all swallowed whole by the sound of the crowd. At one point there was a weak crowd chant of "Louder, Louder" sung out, but, it fell upon deaf ears. What can they do? It's an outdoor show. There's only so many speakers.

Apparently, people paid $40 to talk, get drunk, and MAYBE hear "Dog Days are Over". If you were a genuine "Machinehead" (as I've taken to call true Flo fans) I guess you had to be at the gate at 5:30, have a wad of cash, wear a diaper, and pack a granola bar to eat for dinner in order to get up front to see and hear our red-headed goddess.

I'm sure Florence + The Machine's performance was stellar as always... if you were up front. In the dregs of the rear, the show was good, but hard to hear thanks to chatty Kathys and mumbling Michaels. While my belly was full of reasonably priced food and drink and I managed to have a good time with my friend, I couldn't help but think that my concert going days at Central Park Summerstage, are over.

Here's the Set list:

My Boy Builds Coffins
Lungs
Drumming Song
Strangeness & Charms
Howl
Ghosts
Hurricane Drunk
What Water Gave Me
Cosmic Love
Blinding
You Got the Love
Rabbit Hearts
Bedroom Hymns
Dog Days are Over

2011-06-10T13:40:00.001-04:00

Life is good. #CalexicoCart

2011-06-10T13:29:00.001-04:00

Smells like it's gonna be good!!

CSS & Sleigh Bells at Webster Hall

2011-05-16T01:21:00.001-04:00

CSS

Lately, I've been eager to see a band that I like that I hadn't seen live before. This sadly, is an ever-shrinking category for me. It's been a while since a band has toured that I was willing to pay money to see. So, naturally, when I heard CSS was co-headlining a show with Sleigh Bells, I jumped at the opportunity to swipe tickets. It proved more difficult than I had imagined. Turns out that A LOT of people like CSS & Sleigh Bells, and were far swifter at swiping tickets than I. Twenty dollar tickets quickly became fifty dollar tickets via stubhub, but I figured 50 clams for a sold out show featuring two bands (whose albums I actually enjoy) wasn't an entirely unfair price to pay- even if it WAS a show at Webster Hall.

I can't iterate enough my distaste for Webster Hall. They suck. The venue is disorganized, they keep lineups cryptic, the hall reeks of mold and stale beer, and, the sound there BLOWS. Did I mention it smells? Yeah? Ok. I don't care if it's an INSTITUTION, so was CBGBs, and they went the way of the Dodo because they were WAY past their prime. Webster Hall has been a lousy venue for a while now, and yet, bands keep playing there. I assume it's for some unknown financial reason, like the overhead is cheaper for moderately successful bands. That seems to be who plays there these days. Bands on the brink or bands that are big enough to sell out to a NY crowd, but not to a NJ crowd. Am I right? Ok, rant over. Now, on to what transpired.

Look! Instruments!

The crowd was a lot younger than I am accustomed to... although, I must admit, I think I am getting to that age where I will be the oldest person up front at any show, singing along and dancing. I am not a "go to a concert just to sit in the rear of the theater and drink" type, which inevitably puts me up front with the enthusiastic youngins. I don't mind, really, it's just, a little sad for me to accept that I am getting OLDER. The crowds enthusiasm was welcome though, despite my self-loathing agist phobias. The pre-show music they were blasting was a satisfyingly ecclectic mix of late 80's and early 90's music. TLC, Nirvana, Guns-n-Roses, and Van Halen were the more memorable tracks being blasted out, with myself and all the little ones screaming out the words, for the sad truth was that this would be the closest to hearing those bands live that we'd ever get.

A KEY-TAR!

CSS came out with a welcome BANG opening with the rocking tune "Art Bitch" -one of my favorite tracks on their debut album. From start to finish CSS got what being performers were all about. Even if you're not a huge fan of their work, seeing them live is an enjoyable experience. They play their instruments well, are sonically organized, their attitude is gracious, and well, they're fun as hell. The lead singer known only as Lovefoxx was a good front-woman for their act. She was high energy with pure enthusiasm and kept the audience on their toes. She jumped into the crowd, danced around, launched herself into a crowd surf, and she also successfully managed a handful of costume changes without ever leaving the stage! I've never seen a woman with so many layers of clothing on in my life. The energy on the stage was amplified by the smiling dancing bodies on the floor, which was literally buckling beneath us to the very beat of the music. They played a healthy mix of both albums, and a few choice new tracks from their forthcoming album. I had a lot of fun and found myself happy for paying to see them live.

Sleigh Bells

I wish I could say the same for Sleigh Bells. At first, I was along for the ride. They started the show by blasting Black Sabbath's "Iron Man", and while all the kids were screaming and thrashing I decided to do the same. It was fun and cathartic, but, as the show went on, I came to the realization that the rocking energy was coming from the crowd and NOT from Sleigh Bells. By the time I walked out of Webster Hall, I found myself mumbling, "I could'a stayed home, and just pressed play." The shift of talent was extreme. They were all gimmick and no substance. The wall of amps and the rack of guitars wheeled out during set up had given me a sense of hope. I knew that Sleigh Bells was only a 2-person operation, but, so's Death From Above 1979, and they fucking WAILED when I saw them open for Nine Inch Nails. So, it stood to reason that Sleigh Bells could wail too. I was sorely mistaken. Sadly, everything was a recording that they pumped through the speakers, and the girl Alexis Krauss, was barely doing what I would call singing.

The Elusive Guitarist Derek

As for the guitarist Derek Miller- I GUESS he was playing, but it didn't seem to matter, because the background track playing through was louder than he was. There was also a good chunk of time when Derek wasn't even on the stage- he wasn't bothering to PRETEND to play while Alexis "sang". At those moments, when Alexis was alone on the stage with a track playing steadily beneath her barely audible shaky vocals, it just appeared to be an overpriced karaoke performance. Once the spell of the crowd's enthusiasm dissipated I was ready to migrate to the back of the theater so I could have a speedy exit.

What happened next for me was fascinating. Every foot that I walked further away from the stage, the more shallow Sleigh Bells sound became. In the front where I was it was pure noise pop blasting through oversize speakers where I could barely hear the "live" guitar and vocals. It was infectious and fun to rock out to, sure, but it was VERY temporary. As I walked to the back the entirely pre-recorded music seemed to go mute, and all you could hear was Alexis' vocals... and they were weak. The kids at the show seemed to really enjoy Sleigh Bells and CSS. CSS I got, for sure, because they were musicians with a strong female lead. As for Sleigh Bells, as much as I enjoyed their studio album, I wanted more "oomph" out of them live than what I got, which left me feeling overwhelmingly disappointed.

"Singer" Alexis Krauss

Maybe I am just getting too old to "get" the appeal of a synthetic band that doesn't actually play the music they composed live. No thanks, Sleigh Bells. I'd give you a go if you bring out a BAND with you next time that could play the loud balls to the wall noise pop that your album brings.

CSS is who you should be paying money to see, because, ultimately, humans put on a better show than computers any day.

CSS/ Sleigh Bells Set List Sampling

2011-05-11T01:22:00.011-04:00

In case you were curious,

here's a rough list of what each band played:

CSS

Art Bitch

Off the Hook

Air Painter

Music is My Hot, Hot Sex

Move

Alala

Let's Make Love (And Listen to Death from Above)

Let's Reggae All Night

SLEIGH BELLS

Tell 'Em

Kids

Treats

Riot Rhythm

Infinity Guitars

Rill Rill

A/B Machines

Sleep No More Spoilers

2011-04-22T00:27:00.000-04:00

My Ticket

I cannot put into words the experience of “Sleep No More” that I had last night, here, in my beloved Gotham City but I will TRY. It was a fragmented series of events that conjured feelings of depravation, insanity, fear, voyeurism, enchantment, lust, sympathy, and isolation.

We entered a hallway black as pitch. We were given a single playing card. We roamed a black fabric covered labyrinth, where I felt around blindly in the dark until it opened up to a red velvet lined curtained room- we were catapulted into a jazz age speakeasy complete with band and fervent chatter. We got our Kopparburg Ciders, and slowly began to take in the scenery. A man came out, asking for “Two more brave souls to enter”. We volunteered ourselves, and slammed back what was left of our cider... which was to be our last sip of reality.

We were shuffled into yet another dark room, where a sequined dame languidly expressed to us the rules for the duration of our stay. Egg shell colored plague masks were passed our way. As I slid the wide beaked shell over my long face I felt the anonymity and mystique permeate all sense of identity I had. The masks must stay on the whole time. We were told to no longer speak. They filed us into what turned out to be a massive freight elevator, where one of our “group” was pushed out into an unknown corridor- forced to separate from his companion. She moaned in protest, but the elevator attendant simply laughed and told us in his thick cheeky Scottish brogue that we SHOULD separate, as that was part of the experience.

We exited. Where I found myself next was an apothecaries den thick with the blackest sort of magic. Dried flowers, chalk scribbles, and fragments of parchment expressing the practical uses of ritualistic magic. Taxidermy beasts, femur bones in drawers, maps of Scotland, shreds of animal pelts, vials filled with unknown noxious substances- all there to explore room by dimly lit room. Disturbing dreams and beautiful nightmares all silently resting yearning to leap out at you.

I caught sight of frenzied movement and before long the chase for the muddled tale of Macbeth unfolded before me. Fragments- bizarre and intoxicating- the lucid dreamscapes I witnessed confounded me. I’m not sure what happened.

There was a ballroom dance, all whimsy and laughter. Beautiful men in a close embrace mere inches before me. The sweeping of a blue velvet dress brushing my hands and cheek. Men and women of dapper dress pirouetting, fox trotting, and swinging through the air with grace and ease, their silence masked by the sounds of the music. The music and gaiety seemed to last forever- when all that was white suddenly went blue. A subtle shift to the moribund. A once flowing locked woman- now turned to a bald and enraptured witch writhes and shrieks in the once joyous ballroom. Her dance is eerie, jagged, and alienating. We the silent audience shrouded in our bird masks stare as ghostly specters.

I find a tall lanky blonde man in a cold panic. I follow him- nay- I chase him. Birds of the plague are all in a rabid hunt through a maze composed of sheer madness spiraling up endless flights of stairs. We come to a store front, another apothecary? There is a beautiful Asian woman in a deep blue flowing gown with a plunging neckline, waiting. There is an exchange of poisons, a struggle set to dance watched through a grimy plexi-glass shop front window- he gets what he wants. I’m led by the crazed man down a narrow steel lined wall. The sounds of audience members hands and nails scraping by at the raised edges of adding to the cacophony of sensory overload. The hall opened to a room lit red, lined with cocktail tables, and a stage. There is a man contemplating his scotch. I perch myself upon a bar stool and watch. He holds the shot glass, seemingly mumbling, a prayer perhaps? Who knows. Maddened cackling erupts. A woman in red appears by his side. Is she drunk or insane? We’re all left guessing. There is a blue spot light illuminating them. Slow drones of electronica begin to pulse throughout the room. Strobes erupt. A myriad collage of beaked onlookers in stuttered nightmarish shards spot my vision. The strobe lights and electronica summon (what I assume) are the Weird Sisters... And the devil himself. Naked, donning a Rams head. His dance is shameless, brazen, hypnotic to the swaying droning beat, and paired beautifully with the sister's gyrations. There is blood everywhere. Streaks of red smeared all over all the practitioners. Then there enters the wife of MacDuff (again, I assume), her pregnancy violated as a fetus is ripped from her in a frenzy. All this and still the naked devil man streaked in blood is dancing. Flesh is fed upon. The beautiful Asian woman in blue is sprawled out across a cocktail table and devoured in sheer ecstasy.

The music slows, the strobe softens, the rams head is removed and reveals a depraved and slight young man, naked, bloody. I choose to follow him out. He leads us to a hidden chamber where there is a simple black bathroom. There is one single shower stall. Already naked- but needing to cleanse himself, the man turns on the water and collapses into the stall. A room full of masked voyeurs watch as the small shaking man rinses the blood away. I seat myself below the sink and watch, suddenly wrought with pity for him. He mutters and gestures to us all. There is a towel. We collectively reach and towel him dry. He gestures to his pants. His movement is morose and exhausted. I am handed a shoe. We help him put his trousers on, fix the shoes upon his feet. We helped to put the man back together again. Pants, shoes, suspenders and all. The once carnal and blood streaked beast is transformed back to the civilized albeit disheveled man.

We are led through to a great hall, where a dinner party is taking place. The last supper of Macbeth. All the characters are all on display in a line across a well covered table full of glasses, dishware, and wine. The characters move languidly, as if under water. They move frame by frame yet are flesh before me. There are accusations, rumors, debauchery, unknown discourses and means to an end. The din of the music tells of a foreboding doom. I flee to explore.

There is a boudoir, hallways lined with mirrors, a room of decapitated baby dolls in a stationary flight circling around an old empty cradle. The air is caked with dust and a stench of old things. Walking further on, I find empty living rooms, hinting towards wealth, now decrepit and crumbling. I find an empty child’s bedroom messy and scattered with old toys. I discover a miniature scale cemetery, the smell of earth and metal is thick. There is a moist chill in the air. A small black pram sits alone among the small crosses in the scattered dirt. I walk through to the other side, and find grey stone bricks- ruins in decay with cloaked statues of rueful women scattered throughout the eerie man made moors. Beyond the ruins, I see an interior, a massive room, with cabinetry, a massive bed, and a large bathtub set in the center of the room. I find the Lady M seducing Macbeth with the lyrical twists of her lithe body. A heated yet wordless argument takes them throughout the room, scaling up the cabinetry, mocking gravity itself until finally they sit at the foot of their bed, in a momentary embrace. Macbeth departs, I assume to kill Duncan. The Lady is pleased, lost in thought, dancing about the room, she perches her body on the rim of the tub, love-letters from Macbeth spotted with dirty bath water are scattered around the bath. She remains perched and then floats- as if utterly weightless, dipping her feet into the dirty brownish red water. She drapes an extravagant robe across her shoulders, and flourishes proudly across the room. I leave her to her thoughts and the intrigued onlookers.

There is a hospital wing. Freshly abandoned hospital beds, doctors studies, surgical implements, a dog frozen in space with its gnashing teeth clutching at a doctors bag, a chair of antiquity good for strapping one in perhaps to perform a labotamy, a public surgical lecture room, and clothes hanging on string impeding your view everywhere. Walking further through, I find a forest maze of branches that claw at you as you walk through, peering through the clearing I spot a seemingly helpless lamb. There is a hut at the end of the path lined with birch wood, where a woman works inside, doing what I knew not. The grand ballroom is full of fog now where once the dinner party and dancing- the Birnam wood swallowing you.

People are thrown together and torn apart both as actor and audience member. If you’re lucky, you’ll be told a secret.

Otherwise, just be sure to stay for the hanging.

...and I’ve barely scratched the surface.

Adieu!

Devotchka at the Highline Ballroom

2011-03-24T22:48:00.001-04:00

There's something about a handsome man, stroking the empty air tenderly, with his eyes closed, with a romantic yet mournful look on his face. He is not a blind man trying to feel his way around. He is not lost in the dark looking to find the light switch- nor is he a crazy person aimlessly wandering the streets of New York City. No, the night I witnessed a handsome man lovingly caressing the air- with his brows furrowed deeply, his lids shut tight while he pursed his lips... was last night at the Highline Ballroom. The man in question was Nick Urata and he was playing the theremin. THE THEREMIN. That's one of the many little eccentric details about Devotchka that I happen to adore. You just don't get enough music incorporating instruments that don't require you to touch them! Another element of eccentricity in all its off beat appeal is the sexy as hell SOUSAPHONE player Jeanie who's always donning a beautiful dress and killer vampy high heels. Not to mention the extra oddball dimension to that is the percussion prop table full of the expected instruments... but also steel bowls, and pots and pans.

OK, so, Devotchka is more than just eccentric in the details. They are the embodiment of eccentricity. In fact, Devotchka's eclectic mix of noise makers on stage make the other components of the band, the violin, the upright bass, the accordion, trumpet, piano, and flute appear average and standard fare. This is exactly why I love Devotchka. Besides the items with which they perform upon, the energy, spirit, and attitude of their songs are always an intriguing melodrama that I gladly watch play out minute by minute. Whether it was a love ballad, a war cry, a whimper of lovelorn defeat, or a wordless melody of joy I found myself enthralled and dancing along at every musical mood swing.

Despite some issues with the sound system the show was one of the best I've seen this year. The crowd was tame, but it made for plenty of dancing room for me and my cohort. Even as I am writing this, I am shaking my head and humming the songs though it's been hours upon hours since the music stopped. The set list was everything I could've hoped for and more. It was a healthy mix of their entire catalog and included some choice tracks off of their newest album, "100 Lovers". (Side note: I find the new album very crisp with a slight modern-sounding edge to it I hadn't detected in their previous work before.) The few tracks that they'd chosen to perform that night harmonized beautifully with their more classic hits.

The show itself was certainly more stripped down than the previous shows I've seen from Devotchka, but I felt it was a pleasant change of pace. It allowed me to focus more on their musical prowess and not be distracted superfluous flash. That is not to say that there wasn't SOME flash. There were some key moments during the set, where the sudden appearance of scantily clad silhouettes began a sultry dance to entice us- not to mention the dames in their britches spinning large white umbrellas. Though these little ladies were very welcome, for me, Devotchka's musical talent was the real show stopper. I've never seen such a wide variety of instruments switched on and off between songs in my life. Jeanie went from sousaphone, to upright bass, and to flute with merely a subtle bat of the lashes to indicate a shift. I watched in utter captivation as the drummer Shawn wailed away on his trumpet from behind the drum set- while still maintaining a beat! Not to mention the musical shapeshifting of Tom who went from piano to accordion to violin so quickly I never even saw the switch occur!

Nick's voice alone is an instrument that has so much depth and emotional range that the need for added instrumentation should be unnecessary but NO, the man switched guitars so many times it seemed as if he suffered from a severe case of musical A.D.D. then, to top it all off, with a simple swivel to his left, Nick would let his guitar fall to his hips- he'd raise his arms in position and wail away at the theremin. It was nothing but excitingly frantic musical mayhem on that stage, and I couldn't help but dance the night away.

Devotchka at the Highline Ballroom: Setlist

2011-03-24T22:00:00.000-04:00

Oh and here's the setlist!

Zoe Keating: Le Poisson Rouge 3/6/11

2011-03-09T00:33:00.000-05:00

When it comes to classical compositions, I am a total and utter novice. All I know is if I find a piece of music striking a chord somewhere deep inside of me, I respond to it. I will purchase the song or the album, and listen intently, soaking it in as much as I can. I seldom buy a ticket to a classical concert, mostly because the musicians I'd WANT to see performing their music have been DEAD for hundreds of years. Besides, the crowds for a classical show are usually not my speed... This was not the case for the Zoe Keating/Todd Reynolds show at Le Poisson Rouge on Sunday night.

Beautiful, Isn't She?

When Zoe departed from my beloved Rasputina to pursue personal expressions in the realm of classical music, like a needy dog- I willingly followed. I wasn't sure what to expect of Zoe Keating's show at Le Poisson Rouge on Sunday night. All I knew was, I have been sitting with and listening to "One Cello X 16" and "One Cello X 16: Natoma" as well as "Into the Trees" for quite sometime now, and it's fair to say, that I have become intimately involved with these songs. It's some of the only music in my entire world that can engage me into active meditation. Almost every morning I have Zoe's melodic cellos droning on into the corners of my mind. The sound is the only sound that keeps the irritants of daily commuting at bay. I confess, I find Zoe's music SO engaging that (like most forms of meditation for me) if I don't stay actively focused... I will inevitably fall asleep from overexertion. It's to the point now when Zoe's track "Exurgency" has a Pavlovian effect on me! When it comes on, suddenly my whole body- regardless of where I am and what I am doing goes into a restive peace. My body slackens, instantly in relaxation mode. I visualize so much when her music begins its dance from my ipod to my headphones into my ears and beyond. I see mountain tops, trees, the ocean, busy city streets, crowded restaurants, caves on the side of an ever expanding ocean, I see the stars in the cosmos, there isn't anywhere I can't travel when Zoe's symphonic rush of cellos floods in! Bearing all this in mind, you can see why I was looking forward to finally getting the opportunity to see her in concert, but perhaps you also see my concern. I knew for a fact that this was going to be an extensive practice in active meditation!

She always had the best shoes...

As striking as ever, Zoe took to the stage with her shiny tan leather lace up boots, vertical black striped stockings, ruched grey pinstriped capri pants, a simple ruched black top, and an exceptional modern interpretation of an Elizabethan collar in swirls of white and french grey felt. The house went positively silent, as she began to play- what else- "Exurgency". I assume you know what happened next, my body slackened, a faint smile was painted across my mouth, and I was off into my own meditative realm, far outside of New York City- hell, far outside of any earthly plane. I am proud to say that although I was in a trance like state- Zoe's intricate cello work, paired with her tekkie prowess kept me engaged for the entire length of the show.

The music was inspiring, and hearing those songs live will reverberate for me for many years to come. Music without words become a soundtrack to my everyday life. I get to add my own heart and voice to the songs. I am allowed to provide my own visualizations, it's something I get to be a part of without violating the integrity of the song for someone else.

Zoe is a kind creative force of nature to be reckoned with. Her upbeat words and enthusiasm between her songs complemented her deliciously layered music. I felt welcomed and comforted. I noticed almost immediately how she and Todd Reynolds were incredibly similar, in that when the song was done she was snapped back into the room with us, as if she never traveled out of it. Then BOOM she would drag her bow across her instrument, and drag her right foot across the controls, and she was gone again.

I'm proud to say I traveled with her on these journeys.

YES I got to meet her!

Some Choice Tracks from my recollection:

Exurgency.Tetrishead. Frozen Angels.

Escape Artist. Seven League Boots. Optimist.

Beethoven's 2nd Movement (I think? Some classical buff please correct me if I am wrong!)

Todd Reynolds at Le Poisson Rouge: 3/6/11

2011-03-08T00:00:00.060-05:00

Todd Reynolds

I knew nothing of Todd Reynolds when I walked into Le Poisson Rouge tonight. I wasn't sure if I was going to be bored to death or have the very last fiber of my being split in half by disjointed ambient noise. What I received, however, was something completely unexpected. I was gently nudged awake into the well orchestrated composition of a singular violin, whose sound was filtered through a computer, which was looped, which was then played back, while the original violin played a different tune. The end result was an entire string and rhythm section of an orchestra being performed by a single human being. There were splashes of electronic drums to contrast the high pitch squeals of the sometimes joyous and other times mournful fiddle. Todd was a laid back man considering the sounds he created. He joked around with the crowd and even managed quite a few chuckles from his clever casual banter. His attitude, for me, made his music even more accessible.

Todd Reynolds, as far as I'm concerned- without any knowledge of instrumental compositions- was a total success. He put me at ease with one smile and had me at the edge of my seat while he played. His passion for the music turned on and off like a bipolar switch. It was an expertly designed and interesting concert.

Todd's playfulness was further amplified when he invited a random person from the audience to do a little improv music with him. What happened next, piqued my interest beyond belief. As the young man, who we learned was named Trevor took to the stage, Todd unveiled an odd looking white box covered in shallow round-edged square buttons. Todd smiled and asked Trevor if he had any musical experience. When Trevor responded with a "Yes", Todd smiled and said something along the lines of "Well, forget it!" and then asked if Trevor had ever played with a Lite Brite as a kid and likened the instrument to one (at the phrase Lite Brite, an entire generation gasped in nostalgic glee).

What happened next, was remarkable. Trevor was instructed to hit a button on the little white box (we later learned it was called a "Menome"). The single button instantly lit up while a sequence at the top began to blink and strum notes that sounded a lot like violin chords. An improv jam of sorts commenced with Trevor playing on the little white contraption while Todd switched between plucking his violin like a ukulele & a more traditional stance of playing. It was so interesting, light hearted, fun... and it actually SOUNDED GREAT!

I may have entered a stranger to Todd Reynolds and his unique sound, but I left, a fan.

This is a 15 second blip from a song titled "Crossroads"
which was my favorite track of the night.

Rasputina: Highline Ballroom 2/26/11

2011-02-27T10:53:00.072-05:00

How Soon is Now?

There's not much left that I can say about Rasputina after seeing and talking about them for over a decade now. The thing about Rasputina is, no matter how many times I see them live... it's a pleasure to be there. Every time I hear the strum of that throaty cello, it is a pang in my ribcage and a sinking sort of romance in my head. The chills that run up and down my spine and wriggle around my brain have never ceased in all the years that I have been attending their shows. It has to be true love, for these feelings have only gotten stronger with the years.

Melora's playing is perfection incarnate- the delicate intricacies of her cello performance is rivaled only by her protege Daniel DeJesus. Her unique voice with its strange and charming inflections rang out melodically throughout the entire concert, drawing smiles across the faces of her fans as the sound of it fluttered over us. If Melora's singing was the meat of the song, then paired with it, like a fine wine was Daniel's backing vocals, which added body and an extra emotional depth.

Snow Hen of Austerlitz

It is quite clear just by listening to last night's performance that Melora does indeed run a very tight ship. Each song was deliberate and concise and as always an epic pleasure to listen to.

Someday, I hope to be able to boast seeing Rasputina enough times to fill an entire year. It would be one of the greatest years of my life, for sure.

Here's the setlist from what I remember.. (out of order)

1816, The Year Without a Summer.

Holocaust of Giants.

Thimble Island.

Snow Hen of Austerlitz.

Possum of the Grotto.

Saline the Salt Lake Queen.

Oh Bring Back the Egg Unbroken.

In Old Yellowcake.

How Soon is Now?

This, My Porcelain Life.

The New Zero.

Barracuda.

The 2 Miss Levens.

Calico Indians.

Wacth T.V.

Signs of the Zodiac.

My personal highlight: Hunter's Kiss.

Voltaire: Highline Ballroom 2/26/11

2011-02-26T23:58:00.037-05:00

There are so many potential adjectives, metaphors, and similes one can use when describing the man known as Voltaire. Yet, the first thing that pops into my head is this... Voltaire is a GOTH Weird Al Yancovic...

But honestly, that’s too narrow an explanation of the man. Most of his expansive catalog is original and is soaked with sarcasm, screaming with morbid visual imagery, and positively dripping with obscure and ridiculous Gothic pop-culture references. When you first take a look at Voltaire, it comes as no surprise to find him dressed in all black- black pants, black shoes, black shirt, and even a well-tailored black brocade jacket, with a tilted black top hat partially obscuring his face. Beyond the dapper black top hat- we find a man of pale complexion with dark hair, and dark eyes- no big surprise considering the style. What amazes you, however, is the inevitable revelation of his half cocked smile while he jovially jokes with the audience. What he’s saying between songs, and even while he plays is usually some melodramatic self-deprecating jab about his looks and character, his wife, friends, fans, or the idiots plaguing life in general-- all while taking enormous swigs of booze- erm- I mean "Apple Juice".

Despite your Goth tendencies, it’s hard not to laugh out loud at the playful tunes he bellows out. Songs like “Zombie Prostitute” will have you cringing while you chuckle, and the “Twilight” Edition of “Vampire Club” will have you rooting for Team Voltaire by the time the song is done. Sometimes, it’s good to not take yourself so seriously, no matter what genre you might be affiliated with.

Here's a disorganized list of some of the tunes bellowed out

by Voltaire whilst playing a BROWN (**gasp**) guitar:

Death, Death (Devil, Devil, Evil, Evil Song)

Zombie Prostitute.

Hate Lives in a Small Town.

All Women are Crazy.

Brains!!!

When You're Evil.

Vampire Club (Twilight Edition)

The Decemberists at The Beacon Theatre January 25th

2011-02-01T01:28:00.000-05:00

The Beautiful Beacon Theater

The Decemberists are common folk with uncommon taste. As eclectic genre hoppers they try to transcend a specific style and just play in the tune of what inspires them. I stand by what I've said about them in the past, they're wandering minstrels. They find inspiration in every corner of what ever continent they happen to be upon. The crowd of a Decemberists show is just as wayward a group of lost souls as the band-members themselves. In the sprawling crowd you could see the young, old, & middle-aged. You saw the hippies, the rockers, the hipsters, the mathematicians, the literary scholars, and the dropouts all gathering to stand and smile while gently rocking and humming along to the Decemberists' song.

Sadly for me, there isn't a rather substantial bone in my body that has an ear for modern country music, so, you can imagine my disappointment when I gave a listen to The Decemberists newest album "The King is Dead". I even had a brief moment of regret at buying my ticket to the show! However, I'm glad to say that I minded the live renditions of the songs from the new album significantly LESS than on the recording. These are a very talented group of musicians INDEED. For, who else could get me to listen to country-esque sounding music, and NOT totally hate it? I honestly wasn't bothered by any of the twangy pop tunes in the least. This is no small feat, I assure you. I feel that their performance has helped develop my ear a little more for different kinds of music I may not have been open to before...

This show was very different from the previous performance I had caught a while ago. For one thing, it was a lot more light hearted. There was banter, wit, sarcasm, and especially a playfulness with the audience I hadn't had the opportunity to witness before. There were moments of sheer joy- I still can't believe that they plucked two unsuspecting ladies from the audience and made them play the Colin's and Chris' guitars in an impromptu "ROCK-off". I kept fantasizing that one of the girls would've startled us all by being a total guitar virtuoso, but, sadly... no such luck! It was OK though, you could tell that they had fun once the shock of being on stage in front of a sold out crowd in the historic and beautiful Beacon Theater had subsided. This was just one of many moments that made this show a pleasure to be at. There were guitar solo duels between band-members complete with a wandering spotlight frantically dancing between them, jokes between songs that kept everybody giggling. The show even began in jest, with an introduction by the "mayor" of The Decemberists' home town Portland, Oregon which required us all to get to know our neighbors better and break the ice- complete with a smile and handshake. There were sing-alongs- especially during the energetic "16 Military Wives", and random girls dancing in the aisles, during just about every song.

My personal favorite moment had to be the HIGHLY necessary audience participation nearing the end of my favorite song, "The Mariner's Revenge Song" where we all had to act the part of the crew aboard the ship being consumed by the massive jaws of an angry giant whale. We were asked to include a lot of wailing and choked screams in the midst of our imminent death at sea. I feel we the audience played our part rather well, and though I did NOT break character, I was brimming with joy on the inside. The performance of our "death at sea" was only enhanced when the entire band, save frontman Colin Meloy, laid down on the stage, evidently dead as well. There was an ominous pause followed by a stifled giggle as Colin sung out, "Don't know how I survived, the crew was all chewed alive, I must've slipped between his teeth..." It was then that the band slowly reanimated then zestfully sprang up in perfect timing to finish the song loud and strong.

The Decemberists are energetic, talented, and, perhaps most importantly, don't take themselves too seriously. Despite the regal setting of the beautiful theater, the band never lost focus on what mattered most, the music, and its listeners. I look forward to watching them evolve, and see how they shall challenge themselves in the future.

Here's the set list:

California One

Down By The Water

Rox In The Box

Calamity Song

Red Right Ankle

January Hymn

Don't Carry It All

All Arise

Won't Want For Love

The Crane Wife 1

The Crane Wife 2

The Crane Wife 3

The Infanta

Sixteen Military Wives

This is Why We Fight

The Chimbley Sweep

The Mariner's Revenge Song

June Hymn

2011-01-25T20:39:00.002-05:00

Part II: Trent Reznor Interview-NY Times Art & Leisure Weekend

2011-01-11T00:55:00.048-05:00

The crowd's applause slowed and finally halted. Jon Pareles sighed and said "WOW", clearly impressed with the audience's reception. What followed for the next hour and change was an insightful telling of Trent Reznor's thought process on his most recent creative venture, The Social Network, and his history with Nine Inch Nails. Jon Pareles was an excellent interviewer in the sense that he simply pushed Trent on the minute he seemed to slacken in pace. Jon managed to say only a few words the entire time and yet somehow managed to get this elusive man to go on and on about his work.

I picked up on a lot of interesting physical quirks and gestures of Trent's that I wouldn't have had the chance to appreciate had I not been watching this interview. It was fun to observe the basic human nature of someone so admired. It was a metaphorical lowering of the pedestal for me, and it yielded inspiring results. For one, one of Trent's first comment was "I think I'm more nervous doing this than I have been for many other things..." which, for me showed a little more humility and shyness than I would've expected from someone who penned a line like "I wanna fuck you like an animal". Paired with this unexpected shyness was a man who fidgeted a lot when he speaks. Throughout the entire interview I saw Trent crossing and uncrossing his legs, rubbing his palms together in alternating patterns, adjusting his suit jacket- really just doing anything he could possibly do to stay busy while he talked. If you know me, then you already know I like a man who gesticulates when he talks. For me, it's an indicator of creativity and the hallmark signs of a workaholic- two things I respect significantly.

Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross's critical acclaim for the score to the Social Network soundtrack is probably the main reason why the New York Times chose him to be interviewed for their special 10 year Arts & Leisure celebration this year. I liked the movie and enjoyed the score a lot so I was obviously curious to hear Trent's candid take on the project. There were some more in depth points of interest that my ears particularly perked up to that evening and although I've heard Trent say in some other capacity in other forums, it seemed to resonate more for me. I always loved Trent's piano work, and it's exceptionally effective on the Social Network soundtrack. During the interview, he touched on the fact that the piano was intended to become a sort of aural centerpiece to focus on that can take on many qualities, that it can be "frail, bold, & majestic". I found it fascinating that Trent and Atticus used the piano as a means to communicate the personality traits of the film- and not just necessarily Zuckerberg's in particular, but more of the overall mood of the scenery. I was especially intrigued when he would further the emotional effects of the piano by putting that piano "into a sea of electronics or frayed on the edges soundscapes that might be organic but... everything feels a little decayed" and it's effective. The Social Network would've been at best a sarcastic sort of dry comedic film without this score bringing out its baser elements.

It wasn't all dark drama though, in fact there was some surprising little funny bits about Trent's work on this soundtrack that I hadn't expected. One was his referral to the iconic score to John Carpenter's Halloween and that he frankly, had ripped it off a bit. I was also really amused to hear that even Trent, like other artists who try to communicate with their clientele have the same kind of issues. Mainly not getting CONCISE direction. As soon as Trent referred to David Fincher saying "The piano should have a clear ringing... vibrant" to which Trent replied, "Do you mean reverb?" which is of course followed with the infamous inarticulate response "No... it just needs to be, uhhh..." I couldn't stop laughing from my very personal understanding. I've had conversations like this that can go on forever and ever. Luckily somehow it didn't take that much time. In a few short weeks the music was made and the nominations are in. I'm glad that I have followed Trent Reznor's career this closely, because we (his fans) know how much talent and effort he has put forth, and we know just how deserving he is of any accolades he receives.

As Trent's fans, we are also very eager for any new material he and his collaborators might release. So when Trent announced he was teaming up with David Fincher and Atticus Ross again to do the score The Girl with a Dragon Tattoo we were more than excited. However that excitement was immediately extinguished when Trent announced the loss of his mother Nancy, last week. The audible gasp from the audience was lost in the live stream, but the sympathy stayed with the crowd for most of the interview. My deepest condolences go out to the Reznor family.

There were moments of jovial humor, there was sarcastic banter, there were brief revelations and interludes looking back on the prolific career of Trent, as well as a glance at the direction he's heading in. He mentioned the new How to Destroy Angels album and explained that it was going to be more rhythm and beat oriented and that it wasn't going to sound like the EP they had released. I am hopeful. As you know, I love Trent's work overall... but it can be derivative and runs the risk of auditory and lyrical sameness. Trent even describes the bubble of producing all his work in the same room, with the same people and the same equipment, and that its easy for things to come out sounding alike. This is why he is challenging himself with these new projects. I say good for him and good for all of us!

It was in this vein that Trent had mentioned his work on Ghosts. After hearing him talk about it, I gained even more respect and interest in it than I already had. The idea that these songs were "soundtracks to films that didn't exist" and that he was coming from an "impressionistic place" and "dressing the visualized set with sound" was such an engaging idea to me that it made me want to create more art. I especially felt inspired when he stated that he would just sit at the piano or whatever instrument struck him and visualize something like "a pier in a swamp with rusty nails coming out of the cypress wood..." and asking himself what kind of music does that sound like? The fact that a 36 track instrumental album could be born without any intention other than filling a space with sound really appeals to me. It's music... for the sake of music.

There was a lot of topic jumping, tangents, and just good conversation that evening. There was this lilting, coy sort of dance happening for me in this interview that clearly, I very much enjoyed. Every album was piece of work was discussed or at the very least mentioned, with the exception of With Teeth or what I've come to refer to the album as the bastard child that everyone forgets to get a birthday gift for... it's a good album with a few duds, but other rather exceptional songs. I'm not sure why no one remembers it, really. Again, I digress.

Trent's look back at his first effort, Pretty Hate Machine was, surprisingly, where I felt the strongest emotional tie. It all began for me when Jon Pareles reflected on Trent's work and said, "Touching your pain, touching people's pain... you were going deep."

Trent responded, "It wasn't until I dared to match up some journal entries with music that I realized it actually had power. I couldn't let anyone hear it... it's not a character, it feels too... close to me. There's no shield up, but then I realized that's what the idea of Nine Inch Nails was going to be. It was going to be based on that opening up... and now we're here." He said it with a slight acknowledging smile, nod, and a look up at all of us in the crowd.

"And people rushed in when you opened up." Jon said. Yes, yes we did. I actually felt myself brimming with tears at this little exchange of dialogue. Trent's willingness to expose his most intimate feelings is absolutely what captivated me about Nine Inch Nails. It always felt "real" to me because of how I was feeling. Now, knowing exclusively for the first time in the first person that all this music that I poured my pain into and which poured it's relief, comfort, and sympathy into me was indeed sincere, that it was real, was the greatest comfort I ever have felt. This realization also made me want to jump onto the stage and give Trent a big hug and celebrate his well deserved happiness. I am proud to say I resisted that urge.

As we drew near to the close of the interview something occurred that I was NOT prepared for. A Q&A section with the fans. It was announced by Jon very suddenly. My whole body went rigid and blank. By the time I registered what I would've been able to do it was too late. I slowly turned my head before my body could react and all I saw was a raucous parade of people clamoring up to the two free standing microphones on either side of the auditorium. I shook my head, disappointed at missing my chance and turned back in my seat. As I locked my eyes on Trent once more, I recalled that I actually did get to hug him and tell him "thank you"... which made me feel significantly better.

At least all of the questions from the fans were good! We learned in rapid fire succession about his past collaborations, and the potential or not for the music produced to ever see the light of day, and interestingly enough, Trent mentioned fantasizing about working with David Byrne, which I would pay GOOD money to see!

The infernal Tapeworm project came up, and, not surprisingly, someone asked Trent about working with Marilyn Manson, to which he responded, "I think there's a lot of talent in that guy and if he's in a position where he'd want to try something new... we've had our problems, but, I wear suits now, I'm an adult..." which I think the entire audience (myself included) got a real kick out of hearing.

The interview came to a close, I went home digesting all the information given. I feel relieved to know that even though Nine Inch Nails may be on hiatus, Trent Reznor isn't going anywhere. His inspiration and influence will continue for many years to come.

Thank You, Trent, for everything.

Part I: Trent Reznor Interviewed-NY Times Art & Leisure Weekend

2011-01-10T00:52:00.000-05:00

I paid forty dollars to watch a dude talk.

Sounds absurd when I put it into that context doesn't it? Come to think of it, it's ridiculous. At least, that's what the fiscal conservative inside of me says. Now, let's rephrase this very broad statement and get a wee bit more specific. I paid forty dollars to watch Trent Reznor be interviewed. Suddenly this seems like a very reasonable price to pay, doesn't it? (Well, if you're me).

It was like the good old days as I got to the NY Times Center on Friday Night. There was already a significant line for the 8:15 p.m. scheduled interview at 5:30 in the evening. Nine Inch Nails fans are willing to wait in the harshest conditions just to take a gander at Trent Reznor, no music, just the man himself. I thought I was being unreasonable by getting there when I did, but once again I discovered that as "psychotic" a Nine Inch Nails fan as I deem myself, I am relatively sane comparatively. That being said, sitting in line chatting with fellow fans was actually one of the highlights of the evening for me. Everyone was friendly, receptive, and enthusiastic. There was also a certain level of maturity I hadn't previously encountered when it comes to NIN fans. I'm left with the impression that now that Nine Inch Nails has "retired" in a sense, with Trent having gotten married, having a child, etc. that a large portion of his fans got inspired to do the same, followed suit, and grew up a little themselves. It was a nice way to feel before the big event.

When we filed into the cozy little semi-circular theater with its deep red velvety seats, dim lighting, and softly lit stage, I saw two black and chrome chairs slightly angled towards each other with a small modern geometric table between them, 2 glasses and 2 bottles of water perched atop it. As I took all this in, we noted that there were several "reserved" seating areas, and, at first glance we all felt a little disappointed at how far back our vantage point was going to be. Right before I sat in the middle of the auditorium with everyone else who filed in before me, a young man said loudly next to me, "Wait a minute, the first three rows in the front are FREE!" I dashed forward before my very own thoughts could catch up with me an echo of "Save me a seat!" rang in my ears from my line buddy Anna. I darted and managed to secure two seats- front row. Holy mother of God.

The two black and chrome seats sat sentinel before me like ominous soldiers standing guard between me and the unknown. The stage's cream colored wooden floor guided my eyes around the scenery. I glanced at two video screens- left and right, a large overhanging projection screen, and a glass backed wall covered in vinyl number "10" graphics, with a wintry NYC landscape beyond it. After taking these elements in, my eyes inevitably returned to those ominously empty black and chrome chairs. The one on the right faced my seat directly. "I could be in Trent's direct view if he sits there." I thought to myself. My mind froze, I had a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach, and a flutter in my heart. The man I've idolized for what seems like eons was about to sit and talk about his expansive career, only a mere 10 or so feet away from me... so simple, yet so mind bending.

A woman from the NY Times stepped out of a door and moved towards a podium to give an introduction. I am excited, but the anticipatory flutterings in my body seemed oddly numb. I couldn't muster up the same kind of energy I'd get at a Nine Inch Nails show- though I suppose that's no surprise. This is just the man behind the curtain, no spectacle. As the woman finishes her intro, there is a brief pause, time slows significantly down... then the anticipatory bubble bursts, and a tall hidden panel door swings open and the well-known critic Jon Pareles and the man himself, Trent Reznor make their way across the stage and towards the chairs.

Trent was wearing a well tailored satin finish dark navy blue suit, with a crisp black shirt, and an expertly color-coordinated blue speckled tie. The finishing touch was a nice pair of black leather calf high boots with what looked like nu-buck suede laces. I liked the boots best- they harkened back to his earlier days... but I digress.

As they make their approach, my heart does a little jig. Trent's going to be sitting in the right chair. I'm going to be in his direct line of vision. Through the epic din of the crowd's (and my own) cheers, Trent surveys the audience- and- for a millisecond when his eyes reached mine I detected a glimmer of recognition in his eyes. I thought I made it up until a received a meaningful squeeze on my left arm from my friend Anna, indicating excitedly that she noticed it too. I couldn't stop smiling, I couldn't stop staring, I clapped until my hands hurt, and as he took his seat directly in my view I swear I saw a respectful nod towards me as he thanked all of us.

To be continued...

Waiting in line to see Trent Reznor be interviewed for NYTimes Arts & Leisure!

2011-01-07T18:01:00.001-05:00

Tricky at Le Poisson Rouge 12/09/10

2010-12-30T00:52:00.000-05:00

The room was filled to the brim with dark shadows. There was a cacophonous din that while discordant carried a lyrical hum along with it. There was a pressure of the flesh all around me as we pushed our way in from the chilled December air outside. The air was rank with beer and perfume. The sound being hurled at us from the stage was unfamiliar to me and forced me to question whether or not I made the right decision to come. No matter, I was warm, I was with a dear friend, and I was about to see Tricky for the first time at a lovely little venue known as Le Poisson Rouge. I have been here many times before, yet as we milled around, checking our coats, grabbing a beer, and making our way towards the stage I felt an unfamiliarity with the space and the crowd that I hadn't expected. This was not my "usual" crowd. These were not my "usual" people. The darkness of the space and the claustrophobic force I felt penetrating my presence was unlike the usual vibe I got from LPR. I wasn't sure what to make of it, so I stayed.

It wasn't long until the lights went out all together, and I was thrown into complete darkness. I could only register that the show had begun based off of the cheers of the mob around me. Then, a bullet in the dark was fired and the show began. Tricky came out a little after his band, I assume he was smoking a cigarette and taking a swig of his drink. From the endless chant of "woooooo's" I was able to surmise that he was entertaining us. Then, I caught a glimpse of the man himself in a phosphorescent green light, smoking his tell tale cigarette, and I watched, confused and entranced as he took off his shirt and revealed his scrappy lean frame covered in tattoos and grabbed hold of his mic.

This wasn't a "concert". Concerts are more civilized. This wasn't a "rave". The music was too angry for that. What happened felt more garage and grungy than anything I have felt in a while. I didn't know "trip hop" could feel so raw and down to earth. As we all danced and swayed in our two inches of spacial real estate, a simple hand gesture issued forth from Tricky's lanky, thin, yet muscular arms. His whole body said "C'mere" to the crowd. He was inviting those willing up on the stage with him. A third of the audience- myself included- more than willingly obliged. What happened next was madness, a modern bacchanalia ensued. I was dancing on the demure Le Poisson Rouge Stage with scores of hypnotized people, Tricky shining brilliantly in the center like a strange glowing beacon.

Yes. That is ME whipping my hair! Photo by Benjamin Lozovsky

The performance was definitely more style than substance, but when there's that much panache and pure adrenalin being pumped into the engulfing darkness of a dank space in the early days of winter... does one really care either way? I certainly didn't. I danced, I shook, I screamed, I whipped my hair around like a weapon, and as the night progressed and all that aggression was released, I found myself doing something that I hadn't been doing in a while... smiling.

After we joined Tricky on stage at the end of the set for the second time, I felt like I got a lot more out of the show then I had ever expected. I went in thinking I was going to be lulled into a safe cocoon of ambient noise when in reality I was to be awakened by rock anthems like "Ace of Spades" and thrashing about on stage with the exceptional and eccentric man known as Tricky. The show ended and I was pumped with adrenalin- something I had been lacking these last few months. I wished I could've thanked him for it- I mean, sure, I shook his hand on stage and we had a nice millisecond but, I really wanted to thank him...

Then, this happened...

After the show ended, Tricky actually went into the audience to say "hello" and "thanks" to his fans. I said "Excuse me, I'm sorry.." and asked his literal RING of bouncers if I could get in to say "Hi" to the man himself. Not only did they let me in, but I asked him if I could have a picture with him, and in his trademark rasp he said "Of courrssee of coursseee". I said, "Man, thank you so much for this show, you were great". He replied "Thanks love!" and gave me a nice, non-offensive kiss on the cheek, a hug, and a handshake.

Awesome.

Florence + The Machine at Irving Plaza, 12/14/10

2010-12-29T21:43:00.035-05:00

Sometimes, guys and dolls, if you’re extra good (or an interesting sort of naughty) your Christmas wishes CAN come true. I recall not too long ago, wishing I could see Florence + The Machine at a smaller venuehere in NYC. My wish, it seemed, took off into the heavens where it immediately ricocheted off of an angel’s ass then flew back down- then- like a serendipitous buckshot it came plummeting back to earth and smacked the promoters at 101.9 RXP in the back of the head. Shortly after my blog review of the FloHo Show, I saw that she was playing at one of my favorite little venues here in NYC, The Fillmore at Irving Plaza! On top of all this, lucky me, it fell a mere 3 days before my birthday! I conveniently snatched the presale code off of her FB page, and somehow managed to score a pair of tickets. MY WISH WAS GRANTED!

Everyone Takes Her Picture

The room was jam packed with devout Florence followers, along with MANY reluctant boyfriends. I bring this up because I would like to ask that the LADIES that are fans to stop the insanity of forcing their boyfriends and partners to her shows- it is cruel to make someone that hasn't been bit by the Florence bug to attend when their spot could be occupied by someone who actually WANTS to be there. I have a lot of friends that missed out on this gig because of how rapidly this show sold out. I think that if every person who got tickets brought people that actually wanted to be there that the shows vibe would've improved greatly. I was next to a couple where the other half left half way through because he didn't care enough to stay. That is a waste of money and a shame for a fan that was left out in the cold. I had a spare ticket, and I made sure it went to someone who wanted desperately to be there. Just, let him go and be drunk with his guy friends somewhere while you rock out. You'll be fine without him, I promise.

The vibe wasn't as good as the last few times I have seen her. In example, there were some pretty dramatic moments that night, namely a set of Sasquatch women who definitely tied one on beforehand they got right up in front, and were rather belligerent about sharing their "space" with fellow people. It turned into a feisty little verbal cat fight with a pair of equally aggressive women (albeit in smaller stature), that ultimately resulted in their removal from the venue. Word to the wise, don't be wretched, bitchy, and drunk to the people around you, you never know how fearless and resourceful those people may be. I'd also like to mention once again my misfortune at being 6 inches too short despite the fact that I was 10 feet away from the stage. I had a hard time seeing, and although I probably could've been less vocal about my shortness, ridiculing me for having not gotten there "sooner" won't make anything better. If I was in front of you, clearly I wasn't obstructing your view, so don't be so annoyed at me, please? OK rant over, this is after all, a Christmas/Birthday Miracle Show!

We had a few guest appearances occur before the pretty solid opening act Civil Twilight came on- a Mr. Vincent Donofrio showed up, apparently just to say "What's Up and Season's Greetings" followed by Matt Pinfield and Co. singing a charming little rendition of the Pogue's "Fairytale of New York". I got to say, it put me in a special sort of NYC Christmas spirit! It was light hearted and cheerful, and was a jolly way to bring in the opening act.

When Florence finally emerged I was pleased by her peach colored drapery and peek-a-boo pleated gown. Even more pleasing than ever was the notes escaping her tiny throat. She had poise I had not previously noticed, and there was a certain "ham" effect going on it seemed- just in time for Christmas. Despite her... well earned vanity, she performed well with her band of talent flanking her on all sides. It was strange having foresight into the set she was about to perform, and while I hoped for something different to effect me, I wasn't disappointed. "Howl" continues to be my favorite song on the studio album, yet still remains a fizzled opener, "Cosmic Love" while a great song is becoming a nuisance to hear live- mainly because no one will SHUT UP during it, and "Between Two Lungs" is still the best song she performs live. I'm glad she played a small venue, and that I was lucky enough to hear it. Will I go see her again? Yes. She's only getting stronger. Go see her while you still can... if it's not already too late!

Here’s the Setlist:

Howl.

Drumming Song.

My Boy Builds Coffins.

Girl with One Eye.

Cosmic Love.

Blinding.

I’m Not Calling You a Liar.

Between Two Lungs.

You Got the Love.

Strangeness & Charms.

Rabbit Heart.

Heavy in Your Arms.

Kiss with a Fist.

Dog Days are Over.

Joanna Newsom at Carnegie Hall!

2010-11-27T16:12:00.003-05:00

I have discovered something about Joanna Newsom that will startle only a few of you. The rest of you have probably had this tingling sensation in the back of your head for quite some time now. It’s a fleeting notion- an idea that meandered and never fully formed... but was always a vague observation perched at the tip of your tongue ready to jump off. I had the same tickle in my mind. It wasn’t until last night at the magnificent Carnegie Hall, with her voice amplified within the ornate walls of that enchanting beloved edifice that I gasped and said “Aha!”. You see...

Joanna Newsom is not human.

What enchanting creature she is is still uncertain, however. One minute, she is playful and silly like an innocent sprite, then in the next moment she is mournful and serious as death itself, the next minute she is shrieking like a forlorn banshee, and then further still she will sigh whimsically and glow with all the love and peace in this world like an angel. I am not alone in this sentiment. We, (Joanna's devotees) know that she is extraordinary and otherworldly. In fact, someone shouted out during one of her harp tunings, "What does it feel like to be a GODDESS?". She seemed embarrassed though flattered and avoided answering all together by replying with something along the lines of, "I'm not a Goddess. Let's ask Dolly Parton."

Joanna Newsom and the band of musicians surrounding her toyed with my emotions all night long. It'd be vexing if it wasn't such a pleasure. Each pluck at her harp string seemed connected to the chords of my heart. It was like I had become an emotional marionette, and she was the puppetmaster. The sound of their music reverberating in Carnegie Hall was positively succulent. It was like my brain bit into a perfectly ripened nectarine on a warm summer day, the juices of the composition dripping down into the back of my throat- blissfully choking me up with its sheer deliciousness. The music was the nectar of the Gods, finely decanted in the sacred vessel that is Carnegie Hall.

I was weeping, being lulled into a pleasant dream like trance, smiling, dancing in my seat, or being whisked away as if by magic. My hand stayed nestled upon my heart and throat for most of the show because I needed someone to hold me. There was very little banter between songs save the moments when Joanna was tuning. Then and only then did I catch a glimpse of the pleasant human disguises of the players on stage. Their friendship, adoration, and respect for each other was evident, as well as some playfulness. Joanna even managed to embarrass her drummer into telling a goofy little joke: "How did the scarecrow win the Nobel Prize?" Then a shot gun shout from a random audience member, "He was out-standing in his field". (HAHA)

There were many spectacular moments for me that enchanted evening. There are a few in particular that I will carry with me forever. In example, there was a literal moment of insanity I experienced during the climax of "Have One on Me"- where I became convinced the music was playing NOT from the stage and being projected onto me, but was coming up though a place inside my ribcage that carried up like breath into my brain, and then was pouring OUT of me at maximum volume for the rest of the world to enjoy. I wish I was kidding and being dramatic, but it literally felt like the music was playing inside of my head like a monumental dream, and not playing to me from somewhere else!

Then there was another moment, when the swooping epic billows of love and loss in "Cosmia" hit me right between the eyes and heart simultaneously. With the bang of the drum, the strum of the banjo, and the intermittent pluck of the mouth harp- it sounded like old time America & the realm of faery commingled in harmonious sound and space for a few moments. The wails of the lines "And I miss your precious heart" when sounded over the the violins emphasized the pain and bliss that comes with care and worry. I had to close my eyes to keep myself steadied.

Next there was the passion and joy of the trombone players solo in "Good Intentions Paved in Company". Where I witnessed a steady excited crescendo of frenzied trombone playing. He escalated from a still seated music man, to a dancing yet still seated man, to a red faced passionate player, to a standing red faced wailing trombone player performing an epic soliloquy of sound. Everyone in the audience had a purely ecstatic reaction to the mans enthusiasm, and raw unabashed talent. I will never look at the trombone the same again.

As a devotee of Joanna Newsom, I must say that there was no better way to pay tribute and celebrate her otherworldliness than by seeing her at Carnegie Hall. It honored her, and she graced its presence. To quote Joanna herself, "You forget WHY Carnegie Hall is famous, you think of it like the Whitehouse, that it's just a building... until you play there... [with its acoustics] it's literally the best sounding room in the world."

A Toadstool Ring, or Carnegie Hall Ceiling?

Here's the Setlist:

Bridges and Balloons.

Have One on Me.

Easy.

Cosmia.

In California.

Inflammatory Writ.

Go Long.

Good Intentions Paved in Company.

Emily.

Peach Plum Pear.

Colleen.

La Roux at T5

2010-11-18T22:12:00.001-05:00

I have never been to a true "pop" concert before.

Most of the music I'm into falls into the rock alternative category, or, most recently into the more obscure realms of neue chamber and neo-baroque music. I'm a little goth chick at heart, always skewing to the left of popular culture, although most of the music I enjoy ends up in the popular section after a while. I stumbled upon La Roux thanks to a positive mention on Patrick Wolf's twitter account about a year ago, and then discovered "Bulletproof" was the free download of the week on itunes. I gave her a go, and almost instantly I found myself bopping along to her 80s new wave influenced beats. I've been seeing her name pop up all over the place recently, and that she's been relentlessly touring for what seems like eons. I decided I should see her perform live before she gets any bigger, and I am ever so glad I did!

I have never seen a true "pop" concert before.

I forgot that people danced at shows. I haven't seen enthusiasm that matched my own at a concert in years. I thought I was the last of my kind. It turns out that I am not the last of my kind, it's just that my kind of enthusiasm isn't seen in the alcohol soaked confines of the dark rock music genre... they're seen in the alcohol soaked confines of the neue-new wave music genre! People were happy. They were merrily bopping and casually spilling their drinks on their own shoes then laughing about it milliseconds later. The smiles of the audience were shining like stars. I was dazzled by the celebratory nature of it all. It was easy to become infected with the rhythm of the music, and find yourself dancing.

I was worried that La Roux was a product of the pop "can't hack it" bandwagon- as in she can't really sing and she can't perform. My worries were immediately vanquished as soon as the show began with "Tigerlilly". She had a reliable albeit a little serious stage presence, with a voice that projected well and went well with the booming bass beats and new wave synth notes. Terminal 5 was actually the perfect setting for this show. I know, it's kind of surprising to hear me say this, but, I always said that T5 had the layout of an old school 80s club and not a concert hall. That is why for La Roux T5 was a perfect fit! On every level of this massive industrial space you could see rows upon rows of dancing figures grooving and singing along. It became the set of every awesome 80s movie party scene I could think of- except with better lighting, hairstyles, and clothes (for the most part). My personal favorite moment of the night came when La Roux introduced the one cover song they do, "Under My Thumb" by The Rolling Stones. This was by far one of the best and most unique renditions of this classic I'd ever heard. It was refreshing and fun- especially considering how different it sounded coming from a woman. BRAVA La Roux!

However, there was a crowd moment that takes the credit for being the best part of my evening. When we finally got to hear her big single of the year "Bulletproof" the crowd went positively wild- like they'd been waiting to get their groove back for YEARS and needed this song to do it. The vibe was so crazy that the bartenders could barely focus on their work. They were so utterly flabbergasted by the crowd!

I'm happy La Roux was my first true POP Experience. With her clear 80s new wave influences, this is the kind of Pop I can get behind.

Here's the Set List:

Tigerlilly.

Saviour.

As If By Magic.

I'm Not Your Toy.

Quicksand.

Armour Love.

Growing Pains.

Under My Thumb. (Rolling Stones)

Colourless Colour.

In For the Kill.

Fascination.

Bulletproof.

Grinderman!!!

2010-11-15T22:47:00.000-05:00

Nick Cave is cooler than you.

Don’t be too upset about it because Nick Cave is cooler than everyone. In fact, Nick Cave may be the coolest man on the face of the planet. How do I know this? Simple. Just use your God given senses and any remote scrap of intellectual moxie that you may possess and you'll see his appeal. To start, let’s talk about a few of the awesome bands he’s brought into fruition, shall we?

The Birthday Party are cool. They’re raw, visceral, and unapologetic. They also predate the Gothic and punk sound that was about to spring into life by a few years. They were on the forefront of a sound that shaped and molded every alt kids life from it’s start all the way to present day. I’d say that it’s important to pay a little respect to the uncles of goth and punk. From this aggressive, expressive, and maniacal art rock group, Mr. Cave chose to move forward, and formed the Bad Seeds. Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds are on the the greatest, underrated groups to have emerged from the 80s. When I say “underrated” I mean that they weren’t selling out stadiums- but, they've received tons of critical acclaim and continue to do so, so at least there's SOME appreciation. One of the best components of Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds is how dynamic their music catalog is. They’ve been incredibly prolific, having created a ton of albums all with a unique fingerprint and attitude. Throughout the 80s, 90s, and well into the 2000s, they’ve produced near perfect pieces of audible art and literature. One listen to albums like Tender Prey, Murder Ballads, I let love in, and Dig Lazarus Dig will have you muttering to yourself, the same simple statement that I’ve been proclaiming this whole time; “God, they’re so cool”.

Then, unexpectedly, Nick Cave starts all over again. A new band emerges. Grinderman is a masterfully crafted blend of intellect and balls. Cock rock for the members of Mensa if you will. Grinderman, for me, is the unequivocal opus of the Nick Cave’s cool man paradigm. If he gets any cooler, he runs the risk of becoming embedded in a solid frozen block of icy stares and bad ass hip shakes! If you don’t believe me, then I DARE you to go see Grinderman live and tell me you aren’t awesome-er for it! I dare you!

I was lucky enough to score tickets to Grinderman at the Nokia Theater in Times Square on November 14th for me and my sister, it turned out to be one of the best shows I've seen all year. From our immediate entry, slightly buzzed and filled with delicious Thai food- our coolness increased with each steady step towards Mr. Cave. In fact, when I unhooked my wicked gun holster purse to check my black trench coat- the coat check woman informed me that I was officially "The Coolest Person in this Place". I smiled, said "Thank You" but humbly accepted the truth that the title was not rightfully mine. The music began before we even managed to get in. A show that starts promptly at 9?! This shocked me a bit, but, gentlemen like Grinderman always come on time I guess. The shred of the guitar and Nick Cave's voice echoed out into the theater like a wave of rock fury. We were rocking out before we could even register what was happening to us. All around me, I saw massive stoic bearded titans for men standing like sentinels besides waif like women in all black. Some people were moved to thrashing fits of dance like my sister and I but mostly it was a group of immovable statues... this is a fact I found (and find) disheartening. I like to move, people, don't you? I like to emote, and give a little of the energy thrown my way BACK! Don't deflect that energy! Despite this lack of emotion, we managed to weave our way through the seemingly unmoving wall of flesh surrounding the stage to and headed to the right where I was met with another issue. I am short and therefore can never see anything at shows, and given the height of most of the Grinderman attendees, it became a painful issue. The sound was stellar though, and I supposed that that was all that mattered.

THEN- an intervention- a friend of mine popped out from an elevated platform, not 6 feet above me. We locked eyes, smiled, and next thing I knew I was given an actual VIEW of the MAN himself!! I believe I've described Nick Cave's movements to you all before... well, they all still hold true to this very day. He is an energetic a showman who gives you your money's worth and then an extra million just for good measure. He's like a vapid monkey with his ass lit on fire, only- instead of it being comical, it's inspiring! You'll want to set a fire like that in your own pants by the time he's done. It's the lack of inhibition that's always gotten to me. He is simply being what he is... and that's what makes him the coolest. The sound was stellar, and the band was WICKED. Warren Ellis was wiggling, jangling, strumming, and shaking as crazy as a drunken pirate who snorted gun powder. I sensed a camaraderie between these two men that was an interesting blend of respect and competition. By the end of the show I concluded that, if Nick Cave is the coolest then Warren Ellis comes in a close second (though he better keep an eye out for Peter Murphy and David Bowie). I mean, I've never seen a man angrily gesticulate with maracas- then BEAT said maracas on a single snare- and have it be EFFING AWESOME to listen to and witness. So, if you're feeling a little low about your own level of coolness... GET THEE TO GRINDERMAN and all lowliness will be elevated.

Here's the Setlist:

Mickey Mouse & The Goodbye Man.

Worm Tamer.

Get It On.

Heathen Child.

Evil!

When My Baby Comes.

What I know.

Honeybee (Let's Fly to Mars).

Kitchenette.

No Pussy Blues.

Bellringer Blues.

Palaces of Montezuma.

When My Love Comes Down.

Man in the Moon.

Lovebomb.

Grinderman.

On a bit of a side note-- Nokia Theater is a GROSSLY underrated subterranean oasis in the HELL that is Times Square. I don't think it's been around as long as some of the other venues in New York but in my opinion, its got some clout. A lot of great shows have been performed there, and despite its odd layout I think it is becoming one of my favorite theaters.

FloHO! (Florence + The Machine plays the Apple Store in SoHo)

2010-11-03T18:00:00.090-04:00

Every now and then you got to seize an opportunity when it presents itself to you, no matter what the cost. Yesterday was such a day. I was sitting in my office cubicle, working on the packaging design for food products as per the usual Tuesday morning in the day of the life of Madame K. I was still reeling from the Florence concert I'd attended the night before, on November 1st. I went onto Facebook to see if there was anything posted about the show. There, I saw an update from the Florence FB Fanpage alerting NY'ers that Flo & Co. would be playing a small acoustic set at the Apple Store in SoHo. Wristbands would guarantee admission to this FREE special event, and would be available that morning only.

I LOVE NY!

I looked around my desk area cautiously. Then I decided to press my luck. Look, I'm not PROUD about fibbing about being sick or faking doctor's appointments, but, every now and then it's a necessary measure to take to assure bliss. I whipped up a "forgotten Doctor's appointment" email which by the grace of God guaranteed an early exit to get to the show. Once I got the "OK" from my wonderfully understanding (if gullible) boss, I called the SoHo Apple Store to confirm if there were even still a few wristbands available... "Yes there are, but if you're not down here in about 10 mins, they'll probably be gone, they're going fast". I discreetly FLED right then and there from my midtown office onto the F train straight to the Broadway and Lafayette Stop and briskly booked it to the Apple Store. A mad dash up the glass slatted stairs led way to victoriously securing a chipper canary yellow wristband. I couldn't believe my luck!

By 3 p.m. I went into full stealth ninja mode, and made my discreet escape back to SoHo. I was only half kidding about the doctor's appointment though, considering what I needed was a prescribed dose of a beautifully awesome acoustic set from Dr. Florence and her machine band- consisting of the singularly beautiful harpist and an acoustic guitar player. I got to the store at 3:15 and I had already missed out on a shot at a SEAT! I was OK with that, mainly because I was so happy just to be there. I managed to score the second most ideal spot considering the situation, I was directly behind the last row of chairs, allowing me to perch my bags, and lean my elbows on a comfortable surface.

The enthusiasm of the crowd was palpable. Though I guess a free and exclusive acoustic set from a performer who sold out Terminal 5 both nights will do that to a person...

Florence emerged with her two-man band, dressed in a day time version of her white gossamer gown with the cinched at the waist black bow I had seen her in the night before. She wore no blood red on her lips, and was... more real. It was here in this strange little setting that I met the young woman known as Florence Welch. She giggled, she grinned, she even complained about her knack for successfully repelling technology ("every time I come to America, I lose an iphone!"). She was quite the little charmer, who's "not as tall" as everyone thinks she is. She was not at all serious or brooding as I saw her at the show the night before. The casual atmosphere made this performance a real pleasure, and it turns out that the store was quite the showcase for that powerful set of vocal chords of hers. I think this show really exhibited her vocal talent, and hearing it there made me wish I could hear her with her full backing band in a better quality, more intimate space.

This was to be the ULTIMATE encore to the T5 show the night before... I even got to hear one track that didn't get played the night before!

Here's the Set List:

Cosmic Love.

Drumming Song.

Girl with One Eye.

Between Two Lungs.

Hurricane Drunk. **

Dog Days Are Over.

**Well worth losing 2 hours of Paid time!

Florence + The Machine at T5, 11/01/10

2010-11-03T01:31:00.002-04:00

I have a confession to make... In April, I saw Florence + The Machine at Terminal 5.

I never wrote about it.

Why? Well, I am of the opinion that there is enough negativity in the world, and I try to keep my more critical reviews to a bare minimum, simply because I don't get PAID to do this- so why be a bummer? I want to keep this blog light, enthusiastic, and fun. That being said, obviously my review of the Florence + The Machine show at Terminal 5 a few months ago, would've been a bit of a let down.

I hate Terminal 5. Their sound techs are earless nimcompoops, the layout of the venue is like a labyrinth from hell, and every time I leave there, I swear I have contracted some rare whooping cough disease that may end my life. The Florence show was no exception to the above statements, although may I also add that the harp was completely inaudible, the audience was a bunch of nasty little teenaged prats, and I could only hear Flo HALF the time. The songs lacked "oomph" for me live, alas, I deemed Flo another avid user of auto-tuning, and studio magic. I walked away that night a little disappointed.

Elegance Incarnate!

It's been a few months, and I have seen Florence pick up in popularity in a major way. I still have her debut album "Lungs" on HEAVY rotation even though it's been beyond a year of my listening to it. There's been a small collection of new tracks introduced, the most prevalent being the hauntingly beautiful and gothic "Heavy in Your Arms" song from the Twilight Eclipse soundtrack. Then, I saw her live performance of "Dog Days are Over" at the VMAs. I could hear her voice, unscathed by technology, and as hauntingly beautiful as I imagined it to be. So, I bit the bullet, and got myself a ticket to see her again at Terminal 5. This time I would fly solo, and promised myself a spot upfront. What I was aiming for was a concert of redemption for Florence Welch. I wanted to walk away thrilled and exhilarated... I managed to snake my way into the crowd and got a spot 3 people deep directly between the harp & Flo's mic & drum station. As I weaved and slinked my way through the crowd, I noted the faces ethnicity, gender, and age were incredibly varied- something I am always thrilled to witness at a show. As an added bonus, there were absolutely no obnoxious teens in my vicinity! I staked my claim on an ideal piece of concert real estate, and waited.

The 2 opening acts were OK. The first had a good schtick in my opinion, they sounded like a twangier version of the White Stripes crossed with Queens of the Stone Age. I wish I could remember their name... I would actually go and check them out. The second act, The Smith Westins were baby faced boys who could play their instruments, but haven't really carved out their own sound and style yet in my opinion. I could literally hear their influences-- the Ramones, Squeeze, the Pixies, the Clash--but it was derivative more than homage. Of course, as I wrote out these supposed "influences" I wonder if these kids even ever heard of them? I hope they find their own style some day, because they had some potential... but right now they just sounded like a cover band to me.

Posessed

Then, there was the moment I've been waiting for since April for- Florence's Terminal 5 Redemption Show (or at least what I was hoping it would become). The lights grew dim then faded to dark. A long string of droning synthetic sounds paired with a stark piano note rang out, then she emerged, dressed in all white and gossamer with a particularly cute black bow cinched at her petite waist. Lips painted to match the flaming locks upon her head, a somber look upon her face, the show commenced. They began with one of my favorite Florence songs of all time. "Howl"is one of those songs that is ferocious to me when it's on at full volume in my headphones. It plays and I literally begin to feel myself transform into a beast as I listen to it. I wish I could say the same about it live. It was a bit of a weak opening number for me, and I felt myself grow crest fallen. Don't get me wrong it was beautifully performed and THANK GOD the harp was audible and gorgeous, but, there was no beast clawing at my ears. Luckily, this would be the only "weak" moment of the evening.

Witchcraft!

There were a few breakout moments for me that satiated the monstrous vixen inside me. In particular Flo's performance of "Blinding" was absolutely cathartic and bombastic. The effect of the strobes and the drums utterly eviscerated my eyes and ears with that rawness I'd been searching for. Then, there was Flo, freshly draped in a black shawl, seemingly possessed by the sound around her- THERE was the brooding conjurer I had been waiting for! They also chose to perform a new fantastically lively song "Strangeness and Charms" and... if this is any indicator of what the second album is going to sound like, then get ready kids- because Neo-Baroque Gothic Love Songs are going to be the WAVE of the future!

This was the show I was waiting for from Florence + The Machine. There are several reasons for this: the crowd was a delight, the sound (for a shocking change for T5) was actually quite on the mark, the harp was positively gorgeous, and Florence's voice has increased in strength ten-fold. Every song was a step towards one of the greatest musical climaxes of my concert going life- "Between Two Lungs". This is a song I really genuinely believe Florence LOVES to sing out loud and proud. Lucky for me it's my personal favorite love anthem of the last two years!

The Lady Conjurer!

The encore was a nice touch. The big surprise was that I actually got to hear my new favorite track "Heavy in Your Arms" and it did NOT disappoint. Every time she belted out "HEa-Vy, HEa-Vy" I died a little! What I walked away with from this show was the energy of excitement, romance of a gothic persuasion, and hope. I really could feel the adoration directed towards the stage, and I could feel and plainly see the gratitude from Florence. She is truly a gracious performer, who's particularly in love with NYC. Something I can definitely get behind.

Here's the setlist: (Thanks to Anna for scoring me this print out from the stage!!)

Rasputina: How Soon is Now?

2010-10-20T22:56:00.004-04:00

Apologies for the shakiness, and the sound quality of this. I hadn't been expecting to film a rare live cover!

Rasputina at the BKLYN Knitting Factory

2010-10-20T01:10:00.000-04:00

Rasputina. I’ve seen them so many times in the last few months, years, decade, that it’s becoming redundant to write about them. Even though they never bore me, and they always put on a great show, how long can really go on about how much I enjoy Melora and Daniel and that I only have mediocre feelings about their interchangeable drummer? How many times can I say their finger-work and bowing is so concise it makes my chubby little sausage link fingers seem even clumsier and incapable? How many times can I tell you Rasputina is one of my favorite, steadfast, and consistent bands of all time? A lot, apparently.

The Beautiful Melora

This was my second time seeing them at the Brooklyn Knitting Factory, and as always, they didn’t disappoint. The sound was clean, crisp, and everyone was on point (even the drummer!). To be fair, though, the drummer has a bit of a daunting task, because, clearly, Melora is the time keeper, the holder of all keys, the key master, if you will. She’s so capable solo that any one else on stage with her seems dwarfed by comparison. Not to say that the other musicians are not talented, because, believe me, if they weren’t, they wouldn’t be anywhere NEAR Melora . That being said, this is HER music, her style, her sound, her lyrics- and they are complicated bits of instrumentation, so I think it’s a hard role to properly fill. I don’t think this newest drummer, Melissa, is up to snuff, though she’s better than Cat. No recent drummer seems as capable to keep up with Melora unfortunately, as well as Jonathan did, but as long as these new drummers keep a somewhat steady rhythm down and don’t interfere with the cello work, then I’d say they’re OK by me. On the flipside of mediocre drumming, Daniel DeJesus has held his own and quite expertly. His string work is perfectly in sync with Melora, something that no doubt was an arduous task in practice! I would like to add that his voice has actually contributed a personal emotional depth to Rasputina’s somewhat two-dimensional vocals. I’ve always viewed Melora’s work as allegory, but I never could see her “feelings” in them. Which works for me, but most of the time, I want to feel a little heartbreak, or a little joy in a singer’s voice, something I seldom get out of her. Daniel adds that emotion that has previously been lacking for me.

"Upright" Banjo!

Steadfast classics like “Rats” and “Bring Back the Egg Unbroken” were played with just the right blend of precision and attitude you expect from the band. The new tracks like “Holocaust of Giants” and “Calico Indians” were lively, refreshing- and in particular “Calico Indians” track’s “cello off” as I have come to call it was purely visceral and energetic. The show was great, solid, but not particularly exceptional, that is until a new song in their forte was revealed. I was shocked and utterly perplexed when Melora and Daniel began to pluck at what I initially thought was an unknown cover or a new tune. Then a beautiful harmony of “whoa oh oh’s” further elevated my curiosity until, a certain strange familiarity started sinking in, and then, like slipping into a bed made of freshly laundered linens, Melora sang out “I am the son, and the heir, of a shyness that is criminally vulgar”. A uniform and audible gasp rang out across the audience, and then there was silent reverence. Their cover of the Smiths “How Soon is Now?” was to be the song that helped separate this show from all the other times I have seen them this year. Thus only further proving their worthiness as one of my favorite bands of all time, even after seeing them 3 times in 3 months, they can still pleasantly surprise and impress me. Rasputina, until we meet again!

Here’s the setlist:

Thimble Island
Rats.
1816 the Year Without a Summer.
Oh Bring Back the Egg Unbroken.
Holocaust of Giants.
Humankind as a Sailor.
How Soon is Now?
Calico Indians.
Snowhen of Austerlitz.
Sister Kinderhook.
Sweet Sister Temperance.
Olde Headboard.
Watch T.V.
High on Life.
Saline the Salt Lake Queen.
The New Zero.
Possum of the Grotto.
Hunter’s Kiss.

*Side note, I swear to GOD, Daniel had a fancy new addition to his cello kit— because the warped synth cello drones coming out of that bad boy were truly haunting and wonderful... I want to know if this is the case or if they just never had such a stellar sound tech before... Anybody know?

Inappropriate feelings about Porchetta

2010-10-06T20:28:00.003-04:00

A few months ago, before the infamous food writing class, I had some time to kill. Armed with a 30% off coupon from Blackboard Eats, I decided to head down to a little hole in the wall food shop with a single counter to perch upon , called Porchetta. You guessed it. All they serve is Porchetta. Gloriously cooked dripping with its natural juices and fat- porchetta. Porchetta. PORCHETTA. Oh, it's such a naughty word to me now. It's been so long yet I can still feel the crust of the bread, the crunch of the crispy lightly burned bits of fat, & the moist, salty, & distinctively succulent flesh of the pork upon my anxious tongue. This sandwich was a full on food porno... with an unlikely surprise guest star, Honey Lemon Brussel Sprouts. I think I didn't know what PORCHETTA really was 'til the Porchetta Sandwich Shop showed me the way. Go ahead, slip away from your crowd at the Bourgeois Pig & slink into Porchetta & see for yourself. MMM, My mouth is still watering...

Vampire Weekend w/ Dum Dum Girls & Beach House!

2010-09-17T23:40:00.114-04:00

Know what's better than having tickets to a sold out show at Radio City Music Hall? Having FREE sold out tickets to Radio City Music Hall! That's right, every so often the concert Gods exercise a bit of karma and give this Madame the free gift of Music. Why? How? I consider it only fair considering the epic amounts of money I shell out to the tri-state area for shows!

This time was special for several reasons. My newest friendly addition, Kate, was about to embark on a trip to her beloved England for a month. To send her off right & proper we booked a table at the Highlands gastropub for some fine Scottish fare. Before the dinner even began Kate announced she had to cut the festivities short because a colleague of hers scored tickets to see Vampire Weekend with special guests Dum Dum Girls and Beach House. I was a little bummed because it meant the night was going to have to end early, and a little jealous because it sounded like a great show... then LO- a message appeared unto me in my inbox announcing the discovery of a "spare ticket", and a question asking if I would like to have it. A telepathic "YES!" rang out before I could even type my reply and hit send.

I was handed my ticket just outside the entrance to Radio City Music Hall, along with a little square pink sticker with the writing "Post Show" visible despite the bleed of the fading sharpie marker. "What's this?" I curiously enquired, showing only a tinge of potential excitement. Kate smiles her special half-cocked smile that I've come to know so well, and simply replied "I'm not sure, I guess we'll find out post show, eh?"

We headed to our seats, and I was met with the first of MANY surprises for the evening. We were NOT in the nosebleed section, as I normally am when I attend a concert at Radio City, instead I found myself staggeringly CLOSE to the stage. I mean MIND BOGGINGLY CLOSE. I didn't KNOW what the stage even really looked like- even though I had been there a hundred times before. It was QUITE shock to the nervous system, especially when I turned around, and looked behind me only to startle myself with THIS view:

I couldn't believe my eyes. I had never been witness to the whole all-encompassing look of a SOLD OUT crowd containing primarily lively youth in Radio City Music Hall before (and I have been to the Christmas Show). I was experiencing this venue in an entirely new and different way, and I couldn't have been more excited to be there.

The Well Dressed & Well Versed Dum Dum Girls!

Dum Dum Girls were, sadly, finishing up their set when I had arrived, but the little sampling I got told me that they're rather legit live- which is always nice to know about a group. The crowd was still pretty light when they went on, and I'd have to say their sound seemed better suited for a smaller venue, like Bowery Ballroom for instance. They were still pretty cool, and kept my foot tapping, but I felt like they weren't really digging the scene.

They were well dressed, and the sound was certainly there, though, and really, that's all I care about at the end of the day. I will definitely be giving them a more dedicated listen when they come on my Sirius XMU Radio Station (which they often do).

Beautiful, Ethereal, Beach House

Second act up was Beach House, a group I can't seem to turn my ear away from. It's like when ever I hear them, I am nostalgic for something that hasn't yet happened to me. The lead singer's voice reminds me of the singer from Tangerine Dream- whose work I am only familiar with because of the movie LEGEND. I hope and I pray that she knows the soundtrack, and will one day sing Legend for me in my back yard! Anyway- Beach House was everything I anticipated and more. They were positively ethereal. I was instantly riveted and surprisingly relaxed. They set a mood that was an alluring soundscape to melt away into. I didn't speak nor could I hear anyone else speaking. I was effectively in a musical ZONE, simply taking in the bellowing wails and droning guitars without any conscious care of the outside world. It was like I was floating in the ocean at night, but I wasn't scared that I'd fall asleep and drown.

Vampire Weekend Takes the Stage!

THEN, after a proper, contemplative, aural journey courtesy of Beach House, Vampire Weekend took the stage, and the uproar of the excited, young, and eager crowd promptly took over. The show was exactly what I was looking for that night. It was up beat, it was well played, and perhaps most importantly, it was fun to dance to. This upbeat attitude permeated everything about the otherwise stuffy Radio City Music Hall. It was infectious- they almost seemed to DARE you to not smile and shake! It was amazing how effective the positive vibes were, especially considering that during the show, I found out (thanks to the lead singer) that the Long Island Railroad was SHUT DOWN because of a TORNADO that ripped through Queens and Brooklyn-- and I continued dancing anyway!

I mean, at that point, I was so busy smiling and dancing, I figured, what the hell- I will stay a little later and figure out what to do after I see what this little pink pass is all about. The show ended with a banging encore (Horchata is still ringing merrily in my ears), and as everyone filed out of the mammoth theater, we were instructed to wait patiently to the left of the stage...

Within a few short questioning moments, we were escorted through a heavy as lead black painted door through a narrow hallway and for a brief moment, while they were directing us to an elevator I caught a glimpse of something not many civilians get to witness... the view of Radio City Music Hall from behind the stage. It's a view so vivid for its scale, and its scenery that I doubt I will ever forget it. The dull glow of the burning lights, the impeccable black shine of the stage's lacquer, and the muted sea of maroon seats spanning for what seemed eons beyond it. It made that little pink square of a sticker on my leg, seem a little more precious, and I could've gone home right there, and thought I got to experience something pretty damn cool. Then, we took the elevator up and up, until we ended up somewhere that I'd NEVER thought I'd be inside of... the Radio City Rockette's Dressing Room! I'm a New Yorker after all, and as a little girl, I loved picturing all those ladies getting dolled up prim and proper for the big Radio City Christmas Spectacular! Again, I thought that was pretty cool, and the night could've ended there on a high note! Oh, did I mention that I had a brief friendly encounter with Vampire Weekend's drummer, Chris. Who, incidentally is a really friendly guy, who is also a pretty good photographer to boot. Need I say more? Oh... there was free beer too.

About as close as I'll ever be to a Rockette!

If you were curious, here's VW's Setlist for that night: Holiday. White Sky. Cape Cod Kwassa Kwassa. I Stand Corrected. M79. Bryn. California English. Cousins. Taxi Cab. Run. A-Punk. One (Blake's Got A New Face). I'm Goin' Down (Springsteen Cover). Diplomat's Son. i Think Ur A Contra. Giving Up the Gun. Campus/Oxford Comma

Encore: Horchata. Mansard Roof. Walcott.

Marina & The Diamonds!

2010-09-03T22:22:00.011-04:00

I've been to a quite a few great shows over the years, but I have also gone to a handful that have been embittering experiences. Either the sound was off, the smell of the venue made your toes curl and question the very state of humanity, the band didn't have any "oomph" live, or the crowd was a writhing pack of maggoty rotten brained zombies and/or generic bastards- or worse- all of the above. I pretty much experienced ALL of these horrid concert moments individually and all at once... at Webster Hall. Yes, Webster Hall my most be-hated venue in all of New York City (Terminal5 being a close second). Needless to say, when Marina & The Diamonds announced their American tour I let out an audible groan at the venue listing. The tickets were an intended birthday present for one of my nearest and dearest friends, so, I begrudgingly entered "2", and hit "purchase", sadly acknowledging it was at best going to be a mediocre night.

The night commenced with me literally flying out of the office at exactly 5 p.m. in desperate need of a beer and some quality frivolity. We went south east toward Ippudo, an incredibly delicious Japanese Ramen Noodle restaurant conveniently located near the damnable edifice known as Webster Hall. Clearly, I was in a state of distress about the impending entrance into the venue, because I forgot to photograph the pork buns and modern style ramen! Or, maybe it was just too delicious to pause and take a picture of. The delicate Wonderbread-esque fluffiness of that little taco shaped bun was a perfect precursor to the the zippy tang of the mayo and hot sauce coating the spicy little slabs of pork within. My only complaint was its price. FOUR BUCKS for one 3-bite item?! I think the Japanese must have tiny bellies or massive wallets, because, this broke-ass Italian was a little sad about her want for more and her inability to satiate the desire. The lack of pork bun satisfaction was forgiven, however, when a bowl FULL to its brim with beautiful ramen was brought over. Here's the exact description from the menu: "The original tonkotsu' soup noodle with Ippudo's special sauce, pork belly chashu, cabbage, kikurage, scallions, miso paste & fragrant garlic oil" Now that you know what's in it, you may be asking yourself, how was it? It's comfort to the extreme in a beautiful deep colored vessel. It was salty, but not overbearingly so. It was warm and well balanced in flavor and texture, dancing expertly from crunchy scallions to warm salty broth, to al dente mouthfuls of noodles, then to the easy flavorful tender shreds of pork belly. It was literally 91 degrees outside, and I didn't mind the hot soup noodle concoction one bit. It was exactly what I needed to ease my worries for the night.

"Numb"

We arrived early to the show by a solid half hour. We were into the idea of getting a decent shot of the stage, but were also not interested in being packed in against the guard rail either. My age is showing, no? We stepped into the dank mad house that is Webster Hall, impulsive cringes constantly pulsing through my body. I tried to not let my cohort know my distaste for this place, but, alas, I wear my emotions on my sleeve... and my hyper-expressive face. We scored a spot stage right, next to an obscenely large industrial fan [Thank God]. I don't understand how a 2000+ capacity venue doesn't have a decent air conditioning system. It's Ridiculous! After getting over the sweltering heat, I took a moment to notice the overall crowd demographic. Now, I don't want to stereotype... hell, yes I do- I kid you NOT the crowd was mostly gay men and their hags, including my comrade and I. The age range was predominantly 18-27 with a smattering of gen x'ers, and the occasional older person. And... mostly quite nice to look at. I couldn't decide if I was at a fashion show or a concert. I guess that's what I get for going to a pop show?

WHO IS THIS?!

I can't say much for the opening act except that they were audible, and they held my interest. I couldn't quite catch the name of the band, but, they were pretty good. They had good energy, talent, and massive amounts of likability. My only qualm was they reminded me a bit of every indy band ever- I couldn't really discern a distinct enough sound. On the plus side, I found them rather endearing. This was mainly because before they started their set, they all stood in a closed circle with a variety of beverages in hand, and drank to the performance about to commence. Another epic plus was that they were efficient and punctual! I didn't grow impatient once. Pleased at the efficient timing, I noted I was still surprisingly comfortable. There was no bum-rush to the stage, I had room to breath and move, and the super industrial fan kept any offensive odors away. I also noted that thanks to the crowd being predominantly gay New Yorkers and their hags, their body types were predominantly petite, making the stage still perfectly visible for me- which was a nice change. I was still rather anxious for Marina's arrival. I thought for sure that that would be when the rudeness would ensue.

At promptly 9:15 the stage went black, and Marina's backing band entered the stage. Cheers and hoots and hollers filled the hall like a symphony of eager insanity. Within a few minutes, one of the best crowd driven shows I HAVE EVER BEEN TO began.

"The Outsider"

Marina, decked out in Peace Sign Sunglasses hit the stage with The Outsider. I laughed at her get-up, clearly this girl is a product of a child born in the 80's. The day glow lipstick, the eyewear, the hair, the skin tight black velvet body suit, she was Vanity dressed for a part on Dynasty. Then, she began to sing, and my heart sank. The sound, where was the sound!? Her vocals weren't there! I became terrified, thinking that what I appreciated at home was just another auto-tune success, unable to be replicated live. It killed all hope for the show in an instant. I looked over seriously at my friend, shaking my head and apologizing for the disgrace of the sound. Then LO! Something amazing happened. Apparently I wasn't the only one who noticed the issue. For, as soon as the song ended, Marina held up one index finger and pointed up. By the time the 2nd song started, I learned quickly that Marina CAN sing and DOES hit all those strange notes and vocal stylings. I promptly began doing exactly what Ms. Diamandis asked me to do, which was "wag my tail to the beat". It was then, just the 2nd song in that I realized it- I could dance comfortably! There had been no rude shoving, and absolutely NO indecent uncomely behavior. People were being courteous to their neighbors while still having a good time. It was WONDERFUL! There was humorous sarcastic banter, nods of approval, and laughter splashed with enthusiasm for the duration of the entire show. I think Marina has some mystical positive powers lurking behind her neo-new wave sound and style, because I haven't felt that care free in years. The dancing was cathartic and led only to a rather excellent glow among fellow concert goers. We reeked of sunshine and promise- as opposed to the usual Webster Hall stench of stale beer and mold.

"Hollywood"

The show was worth every second of waiting, and all that worrying only further amplified the joys of the night. Marina and the Diamonds did something that I thought was impossible. They improved my opinion of a show at Webster Hall. Her stage presence was inviting, and although she can be perceived as immature- it never came off as obnoxious. She was having as much fun on stage as we were having off, and it made the whole room radiate in a day glow joy. Not to be ignored were Marina's quirky little costume changes consisting mostly of hilarious sunglasses or odd little props. They added just a bit of flair to a rather simple set and her other more slightly unnecessary costume changes. There was a little bit of everything in this show too, a light and fluffy pop groove in songs like "Hollywood", to dark and a tad foreboding in the synth drum epic "Guilty". The highlight of the show for my friend was Marina's quiet piano rendition of his favorite song on the album- "Numb". With only a few streams of blue light shining down on her face, she sat at the piano and gently serenaded us with her tale of tragic disconnection and redemption. People were enraptured. I was amazed at the quiet, patient reverie of a crowd that was previously so boisterous. At the end of the night, I have to say, the highlight for me (beyond the black light extravaganza, of "I'm Not a Robot") was definitely the crowd. These are happy, fun loving people that you don't mind being stuck in a thousand degree room with. I just hope and pray every Marina crowd in every city is like the one I found myself in, here in New York City.

Here's the Set-list:

The Outsider. Girls. Seventeen. I'm Not a Robot. Oh No! Numb. Obsessions. Rootless. Hollywood. Shampain. Are You Satisfied? Guilty. Starstrukk. Mowgli's Road.

"Shampain"

WHY they didn't bother completing the catalog with Hermit the Frog is beyond me. Oh well.

Marina!

2010-09-02T19:52:00.002-04:00

Rasputina at The Troubadour (that's in LA!)

2010-08-14T21:41:00.101-04:00

My friend Becky and I have been friends since we were awkward... well, since we were awkward teenagers. We met at 13 in our junior high cafeteria and became fast friends in our isolated corner. There was a lot of growing to do, and I was happy not to be doing it alone. At about 13, I began to gradually change- and NO not that sort of change. To the naked eye, it may have looked like nothing at all, the black eyeliner was getting dragged and turned up at the corners by millimeters every day 'til they looked like cats eyes, the colors of my wardrobe became shadier and shadier 'til they were black as pitch. Slowly, my descent into maddening, inspired, and hyper-creative music of the GOTHIC persuasion took over my entire being- my style, my attitude, humor, all but my eating habits were affected. Becky stayed a sunshine girl, and yet we managed, miraculously, to stay friends. At this time in our lives, there was one common musical bond between us, and that came in the form of Rasputina.

Having already gotten HEAVILY into acts like Nine Inch Nails, their protege Marilyn Manson and so on, I was ready to consume whatever Trent Reznor or his cohorts put their names on. Rasputina was a name at that time that kept popping up. They toured with and opened for Manson, Kevin McMahon of Prick revealed they were his favorite band, and Chris Vrenna (former NIN drummer) was slotted to be their producer on their next full length LP. I got into them immediately. I started simultaneously with "Thanks for the Ether" and "Transylvanian Regurgitations". A love affair that has spanned over a decade commenced. I told all my friends to go get it. Becky was one of the few friends who remained as steadfast as I in the fandom of Rasputina. Throughout junior high, high school, college, and beyond she has liked them alongside me.

There was only one thing we hadn't experienced together- and that was getting the chance to see Rasputina perform live, together. You see, shortly after we both graduated I decided I was a New Yorker, & began my residence in New York City for my college years, Becky, being of a sunny persuasion opted for Los Angeles. New York is where I stayed, and California is where Becky has stayed. I'm happy to say we've maintained a bi-coastal love affair, and have stayed very good friends. Not too long ago I mentioned upcoming Rasputina shows in NYC, and Becky had written me a sad little note of regret about her inability to join me. Then- something stirred in me. Like a bolt of lightning I shot out of my seat and onto my computer straight to Rasputina's website to see their entire list of tour dates and locations. Nearly one month after my show in New York City, there was an LA show at the Troubadour.

Dare I?

Plans were made almost instantly and a shot gun trip to Los Angeles sprang before me like an oasis in the desert of this working girls summer.

I won't BORE you with anymore details, so I won't get into the flight, or the subsequent vacation days spent before and after the show...

The experience of seeing a show in a different city is something I'm always obsessed with trying to do. The thought of getting to experience a new place, a new city, with a familiar sound- it's like hearing your favorite music in a brand new way. The Troubadour is an institution in Los Angeles. To me, it's like the Irving Plaza in NYC. We got our passes- (Becky's PRESS now- working for the awesome pop music blog Idolator) and headed straight to the rafters for an unobstructed view of the stage. When the show began, I was exasperated. The sound was pristine! Melora and Daniel's voices carried in symphonic majesty until it filling the whole venue with perfectly pitched song. The lighting was dark, but well orchestrated, and the crowd was great. This experience is one I will carry with me, forever, and cradle it fondly. Finally, since we were wee little weirdos, Becky and I got to see Rasputina together in concert. It really meant a lot to me. I guess this show is more about nostalgia and sentiment than the show itself, but all I get to have are my memories, and Rasputina has been and will continue to be a large number of the better ones.

Setlist:

Thimble Island.
Oh Bring Back the Egg Unbroken.
1816, The Year Without a Summer.
Holocaust of Giants.
Humankind, as the Sailor.
Teenage Kicks.
Calico Indians.
Snow-hen of Austerlitz.
Kinderhook Hoopskirt Works.
Sweet Sister Temperance.
The Olde Headboard.
Rose K.
High on Life.
Watch T.V.
Wish You Were Here.
Saline The Saltlake Queen.
Hunter's Kiss.
Wicked Dickie.
Diamond Mind.
Bad Moon Rising.
Possum of the Grotto.
The New Zero.

A Perfect Saturday: Part III

2010-07-15T21:23:00.011-04:00

Part III: Rasputina

I have been going to see Rasputina for roughly over a decade now. They've been a musical entity as significant to my development as Nine Inch Nails. There's just something about Melora Creagor's band of corseted eccentrics that always resonated with me, and that resonance has some magnificent staying power. Here I am, ten years later, still listening and admiring Rasputina’s creativity and craft.

I got to Le Poisson Rouge a lot earlier than I anticipated. It was a lucky arrival however, because it made me roughly the 5th person waiting in line! This meant that I would get an ideal spot, something that I haven't had for a Rasputina show in quite some time. I haven't been to Le Poisson Rouge since Patrick Wolf played there in May of 2009. A lot of the the place has changed. Now a spacious little concert hall, it felt more like Irving Plaza did back in its prime days! I sat perched on the ledge of the stage for roughly an hour and a half, alone in my eager anticipation. I struck up a conversation with two lovely young women from Montreal (YES, Canada) and quickly discovered that this was their FIRST Rasputina show! Looking at them decked out in their corsets made me rather nostalgic, to say the least. Here I was, in my 10th year seeing Rasputina live... and still there are people who are only seeing them for the first time! This first timer theme was extended also to my good pal Jordan Cooper- who only recently got into them himself. I was REALLY curious to know what HE thought of their LIVE performance, considering he's a musician himself. With all this fresh blood around me, it made me feel excited like it was my own first show all over again!

The opening act was a strange little solo artist by the name of Larkin Grimm. Decked out in birdlike plumage, her mouth open wide and wailing, I felt entranced by her performance. She was LOUD, gifted, eccentric, and very much a nice supplement to the show about to commence. Her music jumped around in genre a LOT, but all was solid and creative. I would definitely go and see her again, and encourage you all to do the same!

A short spell after Larkin left the stage, my dear little trio of musicians known as Rasputina came on stage. There was Melora Creagor, Daniel DeJesus, and yet ANOTHER new face of a drummer (whose name I do not know, sorry). They started with a strong classic- "Thimble Island"! I could go on FOREVER about how much stage presence this group has, how complicated and INCREDIBLE the music is, how gracious they are when they perform... but I will keep this short and sweet.

Rasputina is one of the best groups to see live no matter what the venue. I have seen them in the basement of a pub, I have seen them at Goth Clubs, bigger venues, smaller ones, and on and on- no matter what the sound is pure, the cello consumes every pore in my body and I am always left standing there, riveted. I can't NOT mouth out the words to every song, whether just learned last week, or ingrained into my psyche since I'm 14 years old. I have nothing but the utmost appreciation for their creativity, talent, and unmatched CRAFT.

Their gift of music was lovingly bestowed upon us for a long and glorious set. I just wish SOME people who came would've SHUT UP! During their more quiet, somber numbers, it got increasingly harder to hear them! Melora even made note of this and bitched 'em out a little bit, but sadly, to no avail. It didn't ruin MY good time, but I felt bad for the new comers! I promised them a fantastic show, and although Rasputina delivered, I was a little disappointed in the crowd! I vowed to make it up to the sweet girls from Montreal! I wanted them to walk away knowing that there ARE New Yorkers who care!

My chance came after the closing of their encore. Being advantageously at the front row and center of the stage, I launched myself up and onto the stage, lurched forward and made a grab for Melora's set list. At that very same instant, someone from the right side had done the same. Both of our fingers had a grip on it. In a second of hesitation I felt the little piece of paper slip from my grip- then, I hoarsely whispered "NO!" and grabbed the list! As I brought myself back to the floor, I could hear the young man's entourage let out little wailing "ohhhs" and I didn't care. I turned around and saw the girls smiling enviously at my good luck. The smiles quickly shifted to their own great fortune as I presented it to them and said, "A souvenir from your first Rasputina show!" They shouted and gave me their nice smiles as thanks. It made me feel good to do it. If I had met someone all those years ago and they did something like that for me... man, it would've made my night. I believe in good karma I guess.

A Perfect Saturday: Part II

2010-07-15T21:21:00.001-04:00

Part II: Dinosaur BBQ

After being inspired by all the medieval glory of the cloisters, we went for a MAJOR change of pace... an early bird dinner at Harlem's ever growing in popularity Dinosaur BBQ.

I pigged out on Creole Spiced deviled eggs, fried green tomatoes, chicken wings, spicy shrimp boil, Cajun corn, decadent roasted whipped sweet potato with a spicy nut topping, and Memphis style BBQ pulled pork sandwich. What's "Memphis Style"? That just means a nice serving of coleslaw slapped generously on top! Top that off with a frosty cold pitcher of Arrogant Bastard Ale and you've got one ultra satisfied Madame K!

There were a few high points of the meal experience for me. The Creole spiced devilled eggs... How do I put this delicately... They made me want to PUNCH THE CHEF IN THE FACE and then take him home and have his babies. Devilled Eggs are not usually something I go BUCK WILD for, until I ate this bad boy. I didn't know the center of a devilled egg could be whipped into creamy submission whilst trying to fight back with a tangy little zip of Creole spice! It was a regular S&M scene in my mouth the whole time I munched away at this simple unassuming little egg! Do yourself a favor, put your devilled egg prejudices aside and try one of these things out. Tell me if you don’t end up digging the idea of a devilled egg a little more post consumption.

As a rule, I order pulled pork whenever I go to a BBQ joint. It’s a bizarre fixation of mine. It’s something that has even permeated my subconscious— when I awoke from anesthesia and the doctor asked me how I felt My response was “How do I feel? I feel like a pulled pork sandwich- can you get me one?!”. So, without any hesitation, I ordered a Memphis Style Pulled Pork sandwich platter. Juicy, rich, and smoky, this pulled pork was just what my starved body was asking for. I threw on some extra spicy BBQ sauce- but only a little was needed. Every bite elevated me an inch closer to BBQ heaven. The coleslaw was tangy with a nice crunch, and it wasn’t too sweet either. It was the perfect catalyst to the boldness of the pulled pork. Throwing back a swig of the Arrogant Bastard Ale was the perfect finishing touch.

Every New Yorker should get their asses up there and try Dinosaur BBQ out.

A perfect Saturday: Part I

2010-07-15T21:21:00.000-04:00

Part I: The Cloisters

I woke up in a fog. I was in my man Dave's bedroom in Queens. I looked over to see his adorable and awesome cat, Tristan, sleeping curled up in the folds of the blanket where Dave's legs were, he was sleeping like a bear in hibernation. I momentarily reveled in the cuteness, the echoes of the wedding we went to the night before still ringing in my ears. It was then that I looked over at the clock, that my eyes went wide and I barked "OH NO!".

We had made plans with my fellow Social Club Team Leader, Queen Emil, to spend the day at the cloisters way uptown in Manhattan. We were supposed to be in Penn Station by 10:30. It was now 10:17, in QUEENS. I was panic stricken, immediately a whirlwind of text messages were sent. Frantically running about gave way to a long subway ride. At least there were bagels.

At high noon, Dave and I were at 190th Street. I felt as if I had been transported to another universe. All around me was foliage, and beautiful architecture. I could see a bridge, and what was presumably the Hudson River past the beautiful garden plants, benches, and stone. It took us a little redirection from several passers by, but we ended up in the entrance to the cloisters, taking in all the beauty.

There were several things that struck me about the cloisters. The first thing being how well it "fit" in uptown Manhattan. I thought for sure that it was going to look out of place and awkwardly slammed in between two less attractive buildings. On the contrary, it was right at home. Sitting atop lush rolling hills, the cloisters stood alone- imperial and regal. Surrounded by a quaint little park elevated high above the city streets below it looked and felt like a miniaturized version of Edinburgh Castle. It was absolutely beautiful and charming all in the same instant.

I'd been wanting to go to the cloisters for YEARS. I knew it was home to two of my beloved works of art- the Merode Altarpiece and the tapestry known as the Unicorn in Captivity. Much like the exterior, the interior of the place is magical. It's like Hogwarts, scaled down with beautiful works of medieval art placed throughout. I swear the gargoyles come alive at night!

My breath was stolen. The sheer medieval opulence of the place riveted me beyond words. I wished I was born there, I wished I was raised there, I wish I was wed there, and I don't think I'd much mind it if I died there either! Every room was special. Every little hunk of marble resonated with its pious origins. Each room upon entrance gave way to me giving a little gasp of joy. I was in total reverence of the place... And that is a word not lightly used here. You can't deny its spiritual ties that are unequivocally attached to almost every aspect of art in the cloisters.

On top of its religious undertones, the artwork here is an interesting window into the way of life in the medieval ages. The ideals of beauty, the slowly creeping concepts of perspective, depth, and realism that would come into fruition in the Renaissance, and the repressive sadness of the era reverberate in loud clamorous pangs in every work of art.

None effected me more than the Unicorn Tapestries of the Cloisters. In chronological order, the tapestries depict a hunting party first entering the layer of the unicorn, their descent to attack it, the beautiful beast defending itself, and its ultimate demise and presentation to the lord and lady of the land. The "rebirth" of the unicorn is represented by "The Unicorn in Captivity". This has been one of my favorite images in art history since I was a little girl, dreaming of Unicorns, mermaids, and fairies. I never really got a chance to understand what I was looking at, until it was before my eyes. Covered in wounds, the Unicorn is in repose, defeated. I'd be a liar if I denied that I was moved to tears. I found myself horrified by the cruelty of man, and his wild, strange, and beautiful imagination. We dream up such fantastic ideas, and then fantasize about killing them and making them a trophy. My mind ran away with itself in this humble little room. By the time I left I was convinced that unicorns DID exist, but they were brought to extinction due to over-hunting.

As I write this, I find myself reflecting upon metaphors for the unicorn. It can represent the elusive male or female heart- and our futile attempts to catch it, keep it, kill it, or try to set it free. The Unicorn is a representation of magic, of purity, or further still and maybe the most out there idea is that it's the unicorn is metaphor for Jesus. Whatever your interpretation, I will continue to love this romantic mythical beast. I hate to think of its extinction, or even worse, I hate to think of its passing into the realm of absurdity.

I can’t wait to go back to The Cloisters in the Autumn.

Restaurant Week Soup Truck: Charlie Palmer's Metrazur

2010-07-15T19:26:00.002-04:00

Chilled Sweet Corn Soup with corn & mushroom relish, creme fraiche, micro basil!

It's RESTAURANT WEEK!

2010-07-15T13:14:00.002-04:00

A Casa Fox and The Narrative!

2010-07-07T18:04:00.001-04:00

Mark Ryden

2010-07-07T18:02:00.001-04:00

At the Paul Kasmin Gallery

Baby's 1st Horchata

2010-07-07T17:58:00.001-04:00

At El Quinto Pino

Liberty Belle Spectacular!

2010-07-07T17:54:00.001-04:00

4th of July at the Empire Hotel NYC

King Tut Exhibit NYC

2010-07-07T17:49:00.002-04:00

Westlake Chowder House Montauk NY

2010-07-07T17:46:00.001-04:00

Seared Tuna Steak over Sesame Noodles with Cucumber Salad in soy miso glaze and broth

Fresh Ricotta Gnocchi over chilled puree of peas & basil oil

2010-07-07T17:42:00.002-04:00

2nd Course At Alloro NYC

Eggplant Parmigiana Traditional & Revisited

2010-07-07T17:39:00.001-04:00

At Alloro Nyc

In the name of love... the Western Omelette

2010-04-13T13:21:00.002-04:00

This may not look like much to you, but for me, it is a beacon of light on a dreary morning. It's components are simple, consisting of eggs, ham, peppers, & onions- yet when combined they become a force for any hangover to contend with. Winter, Spring, Summer or Fall you can find me placing an order in a diner or deli for the incredible, edible, hell- just plain magical Western Omelette!

I've been consuming this American staple since I was a wee little babe, & it amazes me that I still never tire of it. With the fluffy yellow eggs, the crunchy slightly cooked down peppers & onions, and the savory smoky ham, I think it's something that will always be part of my diner favorites.

Honestly, it's one of the most perfect foods out there to be consumed. I know that my taste can come off as a little... "fancy" but at the heart of it all, I'm just a slightly pudged out little girl who loves to eat good food no matter WHAT its origins!

It's been a while...

2010-04-09T00:07:00.003-04:00

I haven't written in a while. Yet, I've had a LOT to write about. This past month I've experienced WONDERFUL music performances, and have eaten at a lot of exceptional restaurants.

So, why haven't I written about them?

Well, I felt a little jaded about my skills as a writer. About a month ago, I attended a class titled "How to be a Food Writer". I thought that is what the class would be about, you know, LEARNING HOW TO WRITE ABOUT FOOD. I thought I would get a better understanding of the nature of executing a food related piece. Which I suppose was my first mistake. It was really just a class to massage the ego of an already established food journalist whose skills as a writer were far superior to everyone else's ESPECIALLY when applying grammar. All of our pieces were trite and feeble attempts to describe the food we ingested. Her shrill nagging voice expressed disdain between her every exasperated breath. The roll of her eyes behind her stylish frames mirrored her distaste. In baser terms, she was a know-it-all- and although she may have known a LOT about food, I didn't feel she imparted as much wisdom as she could've. There was an air of pompousness about her that made any information she was giving out seem... invalid. Clearly, I have a hard time taking arrogance seriously.

In regards to my work, she said that "There was a lack of accuracy", and that I was fixated more on the words than the food, and that I especially didn't use enough COMMAS. This was in reference to an assignment she had given to us FIVE MINUTES BEFORE. I am amazed that she didn't complain about the handwriting! All these special circumstances aside, her criticism of my work seemed fair and informative to me, even if I despised her attitude and approach as a "teacher". The fact of the matter is, she was NOT a teacher. A teacher is someone who provides guidance and instruction about it, while giving constructive criticism. It is also important that they understand that a person is still LEARNING, otherwise they wouldn't be in a class to
begin with.

This woman failed to recognize this concept. MOST teachers fail to recognize this concept, and this is why more people don't pursue their passions. How are we to excel, grow, or evolve without true guidance and a nurturing attitude? I've let the negativity of this 2 day class permeate my enthusiasm for writing. I tried to separate the wisdom imparted from her brazen and
offensive attitude. It has perhaps been a feeble attempt, but it was an attempt all the same. I need to step up my game, and care more. I was (and admittedly still AM) writing in a vacuum, and it's time I started taking more time thinking, reading, and especially EDITING my work. Also, maybe I use caps-locks to emphasize a point too often. I don't think I am ready to pitch anything, but I think I am ready to take another class and see how it goes.

In the meantime, expect a rash of reviews, commentaries, and ramblings, until I catch up fully.

Joanna Newsom at Town Hall

2010-03-23T00:06:00.007-04:00

Have you ever been whisked away by an enchanting sound? Has a melody for no clear reason made you well up and blubber like a new born babe for minutes until its end, where, you were left in quiet solace, only wishing to be moved like that again? Has a simple strum of a note led you to a toadstool ring at the top of a hill surrounded by a forest full of faeries where you ended up dancing inside your own head until the music stopped?

If the answer is, "Yes", then- I thought I recognized you! You were at the Joanna Newsom concert in town hall, right? Wasn't it amazing? Isn't she beautiful? Oh, what an affair I have with this pixie of a woman and her sounds. Every squeak of her voice, pluck of her harp, a wave in her hair enchants me, and makes me feel a little less human... and a little more mystical. She's MY more accessible version of Loreena McKennit. Hipster be damned- I love her!

Her show at Town Hall a few weeks left me dumb struck. It wasn't as vast an orchestration as I had witnessed at the Brooklyn Academy of Music a few years ago- no- quite contrary to it in fact. This performance was intricate in its talent but simple in its presentation. I felt like I was in an cozy Narnian cave with her, hanging out, and drinking nectar, as opposed to the BAM show, where I felt like I was sitting council with Gandalf and all of Middle Earth.

There was an intimacy imparted that evening that I hadn't felt at a concert in ages. Joanna was humble, conversational, and inspiring. The pensive silence of the audience only further reflected the mood on the stage. There was a quiet reverence enveloping every person in the red velvet lined Town Hall that evening. It made it embarrassing to do anything but listen (hence the lack of images). Frankly, it was a nice change of pace for me, it forced me to zero in on the music and its core emotion rather than focusing on the "chores" I've established for myself. Besides, I feared photographing her for the sheer risk of revealing her true fae nature.

On a personal note, this woman moves me to a silent hysteria. I thought this time she wouldn't get me, well, I was wrong. I made it through 5 songs unaffected... that is until "Kingfisher". The strings, the harp, her voice it was sheer aural peace. My soul flew out of my gaping mouth, my throat swelled with emotion, and my eyes began a steady stream of tears. My cheeks were soaked by the end of the set, and all I could think was "Play On". Bless yourself with the grace of her music. Let her take you away from the ugliness of the city, and find peace in the sound.

Jackrabbits
Have One on Me
Easy
Soft as Chalk
Inflammatory Writ
Kingfisher
The Book of Right-On
Autumn
Emily
Peach, Plum, Pear
Baby Birch

Dead On A Friday @ Traditions Pub

2010-02-21T13:43:00.005-05:00

I went to a fashion school in NYC. We had no sororities, we had no fraternities, New York City was our campus. As such, I never really had a standard "college" experience. That is, until I went to see Dead On A Friday at Traditions Pub last night. There were two sororities and one fraternity there last night, and they proved most of my stereotypes about them right. They were loud, immature, and binge drinking. There was a LOT of screaming and even LESS room in an already crowded bar. It was pure chaos really, and I pretty much assumed how they would' take a punk show. I assumed they would be unresponsive and even slightly annoyed by one of my favorite Queens punk bands, Dead on a Friday.

I guessed wrong. As soon as D.O.A.F. began playing, the crowd slowly inched there way into the back space to get a better view. I even saw a few of them bopping their head along to the fast rhythm sections. As always, Dead On A Friday put on a solid show, and notably with one of the longest sets they've played in their seven years together! It's really REALLY difficult to play that pace for more than a half hour, and one of the greatest benefits to punk music is that it packs a punch and delivers the message usually in under a minute and thirty seconds. As such, they played an extensive SEVENTEEN SONG set list, including some awesome covers by Jordan Cooper and the Misfits. My favorite cover of the night, however, would have to be their punk anthem version of the theme song to "Perfect Strangers"- guitarist Jessen nailed the end guitar solo and had the crowd positively REELING with nostalgic joy. It was QUITE the crowd pleaser, and was an effective way to make an impact on the 20-something college crowd. The covers were only the beginning of several "surprise" moments, they had the amiably titled "fifth DOAF member" Daniel Matz come up and sing "Do Want You Want" by Bad Religion as well as drummer Nick Ferony singing the last song of the set "Don't Forget the Struggle" by Warzone. I was really surprised by the strength of their voices, especially after having to follow the powerful vocals of lead singer and bassist Dave Fox.

Dead On A Friday are one of the most reliable local live acts you can go and see. They are consistently impressive and you're guaranteed some good old punk rock. Upon leaving Traditions, I felt I walked away with a good local show experience as well as bearing witness to what a college bar was all about. The college bar scene upheld some stereotypes, but they also disproved a few as well. It was an education for sure. I'd definitely say I'd return to the Traditions Pub to see D.O.A.F. again, that and the free drink tickets with admission didn't hurt much either.

Dinner at the Braeburn

2010-02-20T14:20:00.012-05:00

I've often fantasized at the premise of being a restaurant reviewer, perhaps I am manifesting this longshot of a dream into reality. For, if I'm not mistaken, I just got the critic's treatment at the Braeburn in the West Village.

Using a 30% off deal from Blackboard Eats, we showed up to the restaurant & after a brief deliberation we were seated at the corner booth. As two Italian girls, we couldn't have been happier. This means we see all & won't be worried about getting WHACKED all the while our bottoms rest on cushy booth fabric!

The restaurant wasn't crowded yet, but shortly after being seated the room began to fill up. Our waiter came over with an amuse bouche, compliments of the house. I am a SUCKER for an amuse bouche! I believe it sets the tone of the evening and the meal you are about to have. It was a whipped mushroom creme- warm and comforting. The flavor of the mushroom was delicate but present, and the fluffiness of the creme was just right. It wasn't over salted, either, something that I feel is hard to accomplish with soups, mousses, and cremes in general.

Now, this is where I feel the "critic" treatment comes in yet again. First, it was the prime seats, second, though we ordered a bottle, our wine glasses seemed to miraculously FILL well beyond one bottle, and third, it was this salad. Why would a salad merit "critic" treatment? Well, we didn't order it. The waiter brought it out, as a compliment to our meal. It was a simple salad of mixed greens with a lovely sesame vinaigrette with what I am guessing was pickled red onions. It was light, refreshing, and whet my appetite for the impending meal. Incidentally, the dinner rolls here were FANTASTIC. They were crusty on the out side, and moist. The taste eggy with scallions, and the melted butter just contributed to the taste.

For my main course (seen at the beginning of this blog), I ordered the Pennsylvania Chicken with Bacon, Brussel Sprouts, and Hazelnut Puree. The first bite threw me off- as it was VERY heavy on the lemon. Once I combined the items on the dish, however, a very well balanced meal met my high expectations. The chicken was tender and juicy, the skin on top was an excellent blend of seasoning but it wasn't the exclusive source of taste. The bed of sprouts and bacon the chicken rested upon was wilted but not overcooked. The bacon wasn't overpowering, it was rather delicate and had a subtle sweetness blended with the salt. The puree was similar to a hollandaise sauce with a lemony finish, but again, it wasn't overdone. It was a classic dish with all the right elements working together to create what I would consider a reliable staple dish.

Having been so pleased with the service, the seating, and the meal, we opted to split a dessert. We ordered a Braeburn Apple Cobbler with brown sugar streusel and cinnamon ice cream (my friend's hand not included). It came out in its own little adorable hot iron pot. I am glad we ordered this. The crispy buttery goodness of the streusel had me reeling. The spicy flare if the cinnamon ice cream melted into the fluffy cobbler with evenly cooked baked apples was scrumptious. A nice finishing touch to the meal.

I felt like a well treated restaurant critic who was fed a good homey meal. Or maybe the waiter just thought we were cute. Who knows. All I do know is, I will be back, and I will recommend the Braeburn to others.

Madeleine Patisserie: La Maison du Macaron

2010-02-19T15:13:00.009-05:00

If heaven had a flavor, it wouldn't always be chocolate. No, my heaven would know that to convince me of its holiness, it'd better work harder than that! Perhaps it would BEGIN with chocolate, but then the complexities of spice, sweet, & salt would have to be displayed to my palate.

The taste of heaven is something I look for here on earth. I also go looking for taste's sibling, texture. Both are important elements to celestial dining. That being said, this sacred duo of food can be witnessed firsthand at the humble Madeleine Patisserie just by taking one bite of their macaroons.

Clearly their macaroons are the keys to the pearly gates! I can't even begin to fathom how they captured the taste of a blossoming Rose. In the dead of winter, it was spring upon my tongue- a floral bouquet that was both comforting and refreshing. Next, I moved onto the Port Wine and White Chocolate. The deep rich nose of a fine port wine was blended effortlessly with the usually too sweet white chocolate. The blending of these two characters became as classic a pair as Ms. Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. D'Arcy!

Then came, as God intended, the marriage of Caramel and Fleur de Sel. Never was a more revered pairing brought to me in such a humble presentation. Land and Sea, Heaven and Earth were brought together in this holy macaroon. The salt of the sea brought added depth to the slight sweetness of the caramel. Then there was the perfection of the texture; it had a pliable crunchy exterior that delicately submitted to your bite to reveal a moist pleasurably chewy interior within. This journey to Nirvana ends with a decadent creamy center of bountiful flavor seduction- the concentration of the flavors of caramel and fleur de sel.

Go to Madeleine Patisserie and leave this earth for a little while. With a huge sundry of artisanal crafted flavors you're guaranteed unlimited entry to the Elysian Fields!

P.S. Macaroon Flavors Sampled (so far):
Rose, Port Wine & White Chocolate, and Caramel with Fleur de Sel.

P.P.S. I also had a very delicious Croque Monsieur with a Side Salad of Mixed Greens and A Large Moulin Rouge Chai Tea...

Dinner at Da Silvano

2010-02-19T13:22:00.002-05:00

February 5th, 2010

Rigatoni Focaccia: Rigatoni with Double Smoked Bacon, Sage, Rosemary, Garlic, White Wine, Cream, & Tomato

I am slightly indifferent to pasta.

I'll give you a minute to recover from that statement. I know, what kind of Italian am I?! For me, pasta is pasta (unless it's FRESHLY made). Pasta is a blank canvas- it's only as good as the sauce you dress it in.

Case in point, Da Silvano in the West Village. I went thanks to a free bottle of wine coupon from my new best friends at BlackBoardEats.com and well, I'm glad I got a free bottle... the food wasn't BAD but it wasn't worth writing to your Nonna about either.

The pasta was not fresh albeit Al Dente. The sauce was rich with cream but had been balanced well with the tang of the tomato & the salt of the bacon. However, the other flavors were lost completely.

Another issue I have mixed feelings on were portions. It was over $20 for an entree & it was WAY below average size for a restaurant. So don't go here hungry!

Dances of Vice: Secrets du Coquettes

2010-02-17T23:38:00.012-05:00

Step aboard and be swept away to a better time, a bigger time, a time where beauty was measured by the glint in your eye, the rouge on your cheeks, and the fabric on your shoulder. A time where the roar of the trumpet was the sound of a good night and the booze was passed around in secret. Step aboard the Jewel, and experience Dances of Vice: Secrets du Coquettes.

As far as late night Valentines Boat Cruises go, a week ago if you had asked me to one, I would've shuddered at the phrase and asked "Are you crazy?". Today, however, I am singing a different tune. Today, if you asked me to a Valentines Boat Cruise, I would probably smirk, raise an eyebrow, and ask in a throaty voice "Is it hosted by Dances of Vice?".

I am anti-Valentines Day as a rule. I think it's a Hallmark Holiday created to ensure the misery of all. If you're single you're miserable because you're alone. If you're in a relationship then you're miserable because you don't know what to do for your lover and it'll probably end with disappointment. If you're in a relationship on Valentine's Day, then you spend way too much money on SUPERFLUOUS things like, chocolates, flowers, and meals. If you're single on Valentine's Day, you end spending way too much money on NECESSARY things like alcohol and comfort food. As far as I'm concerned, everybody loses on Valentine's Day (except restaurants and florists).

I thought that this Valentine's Day would be like any other, that is, until I learned that DOV was hosting something in honor of this day of "love". I try to attend any Dances of Vice event I can get to. They're always fun, full of beautiful people, and extravagant finery. This evening was nothing short of perfect- and it was a miracle to boot. WHY?! Well, they got me to SMILE genuinely on what I consider the BLACKEST of holidays.

With stellar all night long performances from Brooklyn's Baby Soda Jazz Band, alluring burlesque from Gal Friday, and an intriguing lingerie fashion show by Renee Masoomian there was plenty to titillate the senses. The company was extraordinary, and at every turn was a smiling face and a photo opp. A big shining moment of glory for me, personally, was when I mustered up the courage to approach Mr. Brian Viglione of the Dresden Dolls, who was just there as a guest, and treat him like the celebrity he is for a fan pic.

It was everything a night out on the town used to mean in this city. It was sultry, whimsical, had good tunes blasting out of the live band, was chock full of beautiful exotic beauty, and ended much too soon. I've said it once, and I'll no doubt be saying it again, Dances of Vice, here's looking at you, kid, and I'll see you soon.

Cathartic Confession & Rant.

2010-02-13T13:09:00.007-05:00

There comes a time where every twenty-something wants to know something. Usually it's their purpose. We want to know what our unique gift is that we can give to the world and make it better. Better for themselves and better for everyone around them. As adults we try to improve ourselves- that is if we're decent human beings- we realize our imperfections and try to fix them. We realize that we can never be perfect but to strive towards our potential is critical in our development.

Every day I get older. A click of the dial, a flip of a page, a space bar on my keyboard, and I am older. I always liked the concept of aging, I know that I am a minority when it comes to liking the aging process, but I like to look at life as a bottle of wine- it gets better with age. Lately, I've been struggling with a lot of things. My youth, my friendships, my home, my life as I know it is changing at a rapid pace. Some of the beautiful faces have gone, new ones have come in, the best of the beauties have been with me, by my side, for 7 years, 15 years, 20 years, and my whole life. I just want to say, regardless of where we ended up, I am thankful for every person I have ever met in my life.

Change is coming. The deceptive death card. I'm terrified and exhilarated. I can actually FEEL the dawning of the age of Aquarius. A sense of pride and an emotional upheaval courses through me. I want to be happy. I want to live. I want I want I want. Desire fills me to the brim but I don't know what it is that I desire. The 20 something dilemma. What is my purpose? What gift can I POSSIBLY give this world that she doesn't already have? What present could I offer that she already isn't getting from more qualified and beautiful people? I'm not asking for you to tell me. I know this is something I have to find out on my own.

One of my dearest friends pointed out last night over sangria that social networks, blogs, hell everything that has a "profile" is a modernized shrine to the self. This fascinated me and has been haunting me all morning. My facebook page is like an Easter Island Head. Look at me. Identify me. SEE my individual self, and how it is one out of thousands. You know me. You see me even if we aren't seen in real life. Is that me? Is this blog who I am? What about my design? The nature of my soul? Are these things that can be processed and turned into digital information and then can I make some sense of it? Can I make some sense of self?

I really don't know why I am writing this. I am struggling to understand EVERYTHING lately. I guess I just realized that I needed to put this out there even if no one ever reads it. I am an honest person (or at least I strive to be) and I think that by writing my hopes, doubts, and fears on this virtual wall I'll be able to see "it" more clearly. Whatever that "it" means.

Can you sense my longing? My search? This is a dramatic entry I know, and I have a VERY hard time taking myself seriously but something in me has driven me to want to write it down and make a public outcry of my confusion and frustration... I think that by sharing this, it makes the problem smaller, less scary, more manageable. Does that make sense? Once something is SAID, WRITTEN, expressed in some form, it's out there and not just nestled inside of you where it's good for no one, especially for yourself. It's like saying I love you, or thank you, or I'm sorry. It doesn't do any good to keep that in.

So, out it goes.

Nouvelle Vague at Webster Hall

2010-02-10T15:00:00.002-05:00

A few weeks ago, I saw Nouvelle Vague. You know when I didn't thoroughly enjoy something if it takes me a few weeks to finally write about it. There were a few things that got in the way of enjoying the show before I even got to there. First of all, they played my LEAST favorite venue, Webster Hall. As far as shows go... ehh... I've seen worse- but not many. Now, don't get me wrong, the ladies sang well & the covers were great but their sound and style dictate a certain vibe just not present in this venue. When you hear the breathy French accents and the sultry swinging music of Nouvelle Vague you imagine a small, intimate cafe serving good wine and fine cheeses not the obnoxious badly lit stinking rat trap that is Webster Hall.

The building itself is only one part of the problem with Webster Hall, one must also mention the caliber of person Webster Hall attracts. The people are always RUDE, immature, and ignorant little children who would rather DRINK than listen to any band, plus they act so disinterested it makes you wonder why they would pay $20+ to stand in a smelly chamber and sulk. There is the constant chatter of idiot girls, the low gurgle of drunken gorilla like men, and the idiots on their cell phones. I just don't get it. Trying to ignore the swell of bimbos and apes would be manageable if you were able to see and hear the band, but alas, Webster Hall is one of the most poorly designed venues in the state of New York. You can't see the stage unless you're grotesquely large or an acrobat willing to break your neck for a spot on top of a SPEAKER, and the sound is at best, muffled compared to the mindless chatter constantly bubbling from the mouths of moronic babes. OH the lighting is dreadful as well. You get a disco-ball and red lights for all the money you paid to get in. Keep in mind this is all POST renovation this venue has done in the last few years.

Who is this guy? I have no idea. He was very talented and I wish he and the rest of the band got a smidgeon of credit, for Nouvelle Vague itself is a bit of a hodgepodge- with its roster changing constantly. The band I saw that night was phenomenal but were NEVER introduced by the Belgian singer Helena Noguerra and Brazilian singer Karina Zeviani. We knew who THEY were, they said their own names enough, but the band backing them and making their voices sound so good with beautiful arrangements stayed anonymous players. I consider this just plain rude, but fitting considering the general attitude of the audience. I will give them this much- they DID perform a good chunk of songs I wanted to hear and (from what I could hear) they sounded fantastic. They even got me dancing around with the 2mm of space I had to move in. The chemistry between these two women was playful and slightly lesbonic- which was fun at some points and a bit showy and obnoxious at others.

I think it's safe to say I WON'T be spending my money on this band live again, unless the venue changes and Camille is performing with the band.

Here's the Set from what I recall:

Master & Servant.
Ever Fallen In Love (With Someone You Shouldn't Have Fallen In Love With).
Metal.
Human Fly.
Blue Monday.
Guns of Brixton.
Too Drunk to Fuck.
God Save the Queen.
A Forest.
Just Can't Get Enough.
Road to Nowhere.
Dance with Me.
Blister in the Sun.
Saturday Morning.
Love Will Tear Us Apart.
I'd Stop the World (and Melt with You).
Bela Lugosi's Dead.

Hot Chocolate Month at City Bakery

2010-02-09T13:38:00.001-05:00

Earl Grey Hot Chocolate... Rich, Decadent Dark Chocolate with the Floral Citrus Notes of Earl Grey Tea- this absolutely warms my body, heart, & SOUL on a cold wintry afternoon.

NYC Restaurant Week Soup Truck: II

2010-02-09T10:23:00.002-05:00

February 5th, 2010

Roasted Butternut Squash Soup with Focacia Croutons from Charlie Palmer's Metrazur

Comforting, sweet, & savory, the scent & flavor of butternut squash & rosemary will always remind me to take a step back & appreciate the chilly weather outside. Mainly because my insides are tingling with warm soupy pleasure.

I'm sorry that this truck is gone.

NYC Restaurant Week Soup Truck

2010-02-09T10:11:00.002-05:00

February 4th, 2010

Sunchoke & Leek Soup from Le Cirque.

I know it's been a few days since I consumed this but I can't stop thinking about it! The flavor of the duckfat tangoed with the 'chokes, & the leeks added a delectable zip. It was heaven in a cup- the reason WHY God invented taste buds. It made me want to go to Le Cirque...

So... who's taking me?

Restaurant Week Dinner: Winter

2010-02-07T23:46:00.008-05:00

February 4th 2010

Amuse Bouche: Parmesan Ball w. Preserved Lemon
1st: Porcini Ravioli, Swiss Chard, Gorgonzola Cream
2nd: Stout Braised Lamb Shank, Aged Cheddar Polenta, & Green Apples- Paired w. Chalone Pinot Noir
3rd: Winter Spice Cake, Apple puree, Cranberry, & Goat Cheese

As the hub of fashion, Park Avenue is known for its constant evolution in style. As such, it only seems reasonable that the FOOD would do the same! That's where Park Avenue- Spring, Summer, Fall, or Winter comes into play. The restaurant is redesigned every 3 months, the doors close for a 48 hour renovation and when they reopen- they match the season both in decor and menu. The ordeal of redesigning an entire restaurants menu is daunting enough- but to redesign the interior? That seems ludicrous. That is, until you see how the visual environment contributes to the experience. This place is on my "exorbitantly expensive, yet probably worth it" list, but luckily, Park Avenue Winter is part of restaurant week.

I would like to mention that the wait staff was INCREDIBLY helpful- our waiter was well informed, enthusiastic, and considerate. In fact, I felt welcome as soon as I entered. I was the first of my party to arrive- and I was JUST on time- yet they seated me without my complete party! This is a VERY rare courtesy to find in NYC, so they were automatically in my good graces.

THEN to make matters even better, they served an Amuse Bouche that was delicious and the perfect little beginning chord to the meal. The waiter presented to us what they called a Parmesan Ball with Preserved Lemon. The Mild sweetness of the Parmesan was contrasted beautifully by the sour notes of the lemon. Nice, simple, and to the point. Our culinary journey was about to begin!

For my first course, I had Porcini Ravioli with swiss chard, and gorgonzola cream. The Ravioli was perfectly al dente, the porcini filling was earthy and comforting, and the gorgonzola cream tossed it over the edge of reason. The dish was VERY rich, and it probably would've been OK to only have 2 ravioli instead of 3. Also, there were pecans and pine nuts in it. I loved both, and felt that they added a little more style and depth to the dish, but I think it was a strange move to have them in there and not be mentioned on the menu. The same can be said for the Meatball Slider that some people at my table ordered. We had NO clue what was in there, and albeit delicious and again VERY rich, it was a little off-putting to not know what we were consuming.

For my second course, I ordered the Stout Braised Lamb Shank with Aged Cheddar Polenta, & Green Apples, Paired with Chalone Pinot Noir. Start to finish, this was one of the most decadent main entrees I've ever consumed. The meat was so tender it practically fell off the bone just by looking at it! This dish has met some controversy- with a lot of people either loving it, or completely despising it. I was really shocked to see this restaurant as one of the "worst" places to eat for restaurant week... but I think I figured out why. When you braise a meat in anything it's going to be rich, it can turn a person off if their palate prefers lighter fare. Braising a rich meat like LAMB in STOUT is on the edge of insanity. It's a decadence that goes beyond comparison. I like my food to make me swoon. I like a piece of meat to compete with dessert but be savory all the same. Rich, complex, almost tasting like a wine reduction with sugar, this lamb shank braised in stout was the centerpiece of the evening for me but I can see why some would feel it was too much. It was a VERY large serving, and for lack of a better word, the richness of it made it hard to finish. In my opinion, the apples brought it up from the inferno of opulent sin, but then was instantly thrown back into the pits with the cheddar polenta. I ate every last bite... but I can't say that I didn't feel a little ashamed and heavy afterwards.

The third course, dessert was very surprising. I could barely move or breathe from the last course, but alas, I always look forward to dessert. THEN what looked like an egg roll perched on top of sausage links with questionable pools of sauce came out and was placed in front of me. So, this was Winter Spice Cake, Apple puree, Cranberry, & Goat Cheese? After the beauty of presentation for the last two courses, this was disappointing. Regardless, I grabbed my fork, tapped firmly on the exterior crispy shell (which I discovered held very finely whipped goat cheese) and added a portion of each element on the dish to the fork. The crunch of the shell, the creaminess of the goat cheese, the tartness of the cranberry, the sweetness of the apple, and the moist spiciness of the cake made me forgive how silly it looked on the plate. This was a mature, sensible dessert that was perfectly indicative of the season, Winter.

I like the concept of Park Avenue and its seasonal incarnations. Despite feeling like a gluttonous animal, I will undoubtedly return and recommend it to others.

It's one more reason to look forward to the changing seasons.

Restaurant Week Dinner: Park Avenue Winter (Better pics to come ASAP)

2010-02-05T12:19:00.001-05:00

February 4th, 2010

Amuse Bouche: Parmesan Ball w. Preserved Lemon
1st: Porcini Ravioli, Swiss Chard, Gorgonzola Cream
2nd: Stout Braised Lamb Shank, Aged Cheddar Polenta, & Green Apples- Paired w. Chalone Pinot Noir
3rd: Winter Spice Cake Apple puree, Cranberry, & Goat Cheese

This is one of the most extraordinary dining experiences I've had to date. The ambiance was lovely, the staff was helpful, & the food was exceptional. Above all else it was the best deal yet- the portions were generous & for only $7 more we got to enjoy a glass of wine!

It's too much to write without featuring the food- so stay tuned for a lengthier review soon.

In the meantime TRY TO GET A TABLE HERE FOR RESTAURANT WEEK!!

Restaurant Week Lunch: SD26

2010-02-05T00:23:00.006-05:00

February 3rd, 2010

3rd Course: Panna Cotta with Balsamic Reduction and Fresh Strawberries

I'm always about dessert. It's the best part of any meal. I seldom get to experience it because I am either too full or can't afford to indulge. The beauty of Restaurant Week is that dessert is included in the pre fixe and the portions are reasonable enough that there's room for the grand finale. SD26 was by far the most perfect meal I've gotten the pleasure to experience in my restaurant week ventures.

Smooth with the finest consistency and kissed with the simple flavor of vanilla bean this panna cotta was a direct link to the pearly gates. It was well paired with a sticky discreet balsamic reduction and fresh strawberries. The dessert was a harmonious blend of light vanilla and exotic balsamic flavor. The freshness of the fruit reinforced the scent and taste of the balsamic and vanilla. My only complaint was that I couldn't make it last forever.

I spent most of my afternoon and evening reminiscing about this meal.

Restaurant Week Lunch: SD26

2010-02-05T00:16:00.006-05:00

February 3rd, 2010

2nd Course: Wild Bass Acquapazza, Zucchini, Fregola Sarda, Diced Tomatoes

Do you know what it feels like to follow an impressive performance? It usually feels like you won't be nearly as good. You find yourself asking "How do I top THAT?". The answer is simple. Don't try to top it, try to match it. Be its equal & more importantly be yourself. That's exactly what the 2nd course here did.

The raviolo was decadence incarnate. To be frank it made me feel heavy & a bit naughty...& as much as I LIKE that feeling if it goes on too long it can bring me down. That's around the time I took my first bite of the Wild Bass Acquapazza.

Floating atop beautifully cut & cooked zucchini & tomatoes in a flavorful & aromatic broth was a light, flaky, & PERFECTLY cooked piece of poached wild bass. This was the ideal following act to the 1st course.

Restaurant Week Lunch: SD26

2010-02-04T22:47:00.002-05:00

February 3, 2010

1st Course: "Uovo" soft egg yolk filled raviolo with truffled butter

There have been moments when I'm eating where something holy & even slightly orgasmic happens to me. It's an ultimate satisfaction that starts on my tongue instantly sends an electric charge straight to the top of my head. I discovered recently that this area is known as the "crown chakra" & it's apparently your personal connection with God.

Well, I suppose food is God & restaurants like SD26 are my church.

This was one of the most beautifully crafted appetizers I've ever had the pleasure of consuming. The presentation appears simple, but the execution is complex. Inside of that glorious & slightly oversized raviolo is a perfectly cooked sunny side up egg- you could vaguely see it through the translucent skin of the pasta. When you broke into it the harmony of flavors sing. The tang of the cheese, the texture of the egg, the creaminess of the butter, & the earthy richness of the truffle say AMEN!

Restaurant Week Dinner: Aquavit

2010-02-04T22:22:00.003-05:00

January 28th, 2010

1st Course: Artichoke Bisque w. Truffle Creme Fraiche, Soft Baked Farm Egg, & Smoked Venison
2nd Course: Whole Roasted Cornish Hen w. Parsnip, Spinach, Brussels Sprouts, & Sage Bechamel
Dessert: Spice Cake w. Toasted Butter Pecans & Orange Sorbet

Aquavit is an establisment here in NYC. Since their opening in '87 they've been the prime source for gourmet Scandenavian cooking.

The decor screams old money but not in a way that makes you feel worthless (if you know what I mean). The waitress we had was fantastic.

I wish I could say the same for the food.

That's the reason why I am only showing the artichoke bisque. It's the only thing worth writing about. It was a sumptuous combination of flavors- the truffle creme fraiche paired well with the soft baked egg & venison & although it was rich it wasn't too heavy. I detected a subtle citron note that livened it up considerably. Everything after that was forgettable. The hen & cake were too dry & overall it was bland.

Restaurant Week Lunch: Craftbar

2010-02-04T15:56:00.002-05:00

January 27, 2010

Craftbar: 3rd Course, Cranberry Apple Crisp with Maple Creme

After the let down that was the Veal Meatballs, I'm happy to say that this was a lovely little winter dessert.

Not too sweet- the buttery flavor of the crumbles fused perfectly with the warm tart cranberries and sweet, slightly firm apples. The maple creme was a refreshing addition that helped make this dessert a little less predictable.

Restaurant Week Lunch: Craftbar

2010-02-04T15:43:00.002-05:00

January 27th 2010

2nd Course: Veal Ricotta Meatballs

Supposedly a "signature dish" at craftbar, I found this entree to be a big let down. The meatballs weren't tender, barely passing my "fork" test* and were bland & salty. The marinara sauce was similar- if not the same as the sauce used with the Risotto Balls, only here it's subtlety reflected the dishes lack of flavor. The only redeeming component of the dish was the crusty bread served alongside it.

*The meatball fork test is simple. A good meatball requires no knife. You should be able to deftly cut into a meatball with one hand and one fork- to use a food analogy it should cut like a hot knife on butter!

Restaurant Week Lunch: Craftbar

2010-02-04T15:30:00.002-05:00

January 27, 2010

1st Course: Fried Pecorino Stuffed Risotto Balls.

I was VERY excited to go to Craftbar, as I've got a bit of a crush on Tom Colicchio & I'm a big fan of 'wichcraft. Well, 1st course did NOT dissappoint!

The "balls" were the perfect combination of texture with a crispy fried exterior with just a casual flirtation of saltiness and spice, followed with firm, well cooked risotto, & a decadent warm creamy pecorino center. The marinara sauce surrounding them had just a hint of heat to it but it didn't overpower the dish.

Incidentally, Craftbar had one of the largest Restaurant Week menues I've ever seen. There were so many choices!

NYC Restaurant Week

2010-02-04T14:25:00.002-05:00

Do you know what I do even more than go to concerts?

I eat.

Now, I KNOW everybody eats, but no one experiences food the same way & I know very few people who experience food the way I do.

It's NYC Winter Restaurant Week & for me, you may as well call it Christmas. It's one of the most exciting times of the year to be a foodie with limited finances, & boy am I taking advantage!

Stay tuned & I'll share these Culinary (mis)Adventures with you alongside my musical journies!

On my way in!!

2010-01-23T20:44:00.002-05:00

The (mis)Adventures of Madame K

Rasputina: Highline Ballroom 10/29/11

Zola Jesus at Le Poisson Rouge

My Brightest Diamond at Littlefield

Portishead at Hammerstein Ballroom 10/4/11

Jon Brion at Le Poisson Rouge 10/3/11

Patrick Wolf at Le Poisson Rouge 09/18/11

Patrick Wolf at Le Poisson Rouge 09/17/11

My Brightest Diamond at Castle Clinton

Florence + The Machine at Central Park Summerstage 06/24/11

CSS & Sleigh Bells at Webster Hall

CSS/ Sleigh Bells Set List Sampling

Sleep No More **Spoilers**

Devotchka at the Highline Ballroom

Devotchka at the Highline Ballroom: Setlist

Zoe Keating: Le Poisson Rouge 3/6/11

Todd Reynolds at Le Poisson Rouge: 3/6/11

Rasputina: Highline Ballroom 2/26/11

Voltaire: Highline Ballroom 2/26/11

The Decemberists at The Beacon Theatre January 25th

Part II: Trent Reznor Interview-NY Times Art & Leisure Weekend

Part I: Trent Reznor Interviewed-NY Times Art & Leisure Weekend

Waiting in line to see Trent Reznor be interviewed for NYTimes Arts & Leisure!

Tricky at Le Poisson Rouge 12/09/10

Florence + The Machine at Irving Plaza, 12/14/10

Joanna Newsom at Carnegie Hall!

La Roux at T5

Grinderman!!!

FloHO! (Florence + The Machine plays the Apple Store in SoHo)

Florence + The Machine at T5, 11/01/10

Rasputina: How Soon is Now?

Rasputina at the BKLYN Knitting Factory

Inappropriate feelings about Porchetta

Vampire Weekend w/ Dum Dum Girls & Beach House!

Marina & The Diamonds!

Marina!

Rasputina at The Troubadour (that's in LA!)

A Perfect Saturday: Part III

A Perfect Saturday: Part II

A perfect Saturday: Part I

Restaurant Week Soup Truck: Charlie Palmer's Metrazur

It's RESTAURANT WEEK!

A Casa Fox and The Narrative!

Mark Ryden

Baby's 1st Horchata

Liberty Belle Spectacular!

King Tut Exhibit NYC

Westlake Chowder House Montauk NY

Fresh Ricotta Gnocchi over chilled puree of peas & basil oil

Eggplant Parmigiana Traditional & Revisited

In the name of love... the Western Omelette

It's been a while...

Joanna Newsom at Town Hall

Dead On A Friday @ Traditions Pub

Dinner at the Braeburn

Madeleine Patisserie: La Maison du Macaron

Dinner at Da Silvano

Dances of Vice: Secrets du Coquettes

Cathartic Confession & Rant.

Nouvelle Vague at Webster Hall

Hot Chocolate Month at City Bakery

NYC Restaurant Week Soup Truck: II

NYC Restaurant Week Soup Truck

Restaurant Week Dinner: Winter

Restaurant Week Dinner: Park Avenue Winter (Better pics to come ASAP)

Restaurant Week Lunch: SD26

Restaurant Week Lunch: SD26

Restaurant Week Lunch: SD26

Restaurant Week Dinner: Aquavit

Restaurant Week Lunch: Craftbar

Restaurant Week Lunch: Craftbar

Restaurant Week Lunch: Craftbar

NYC Restaurant Week

On my way in!!

Sleep No More Spoilers