Ol’ gravel throat
himself, Bryan Adams, sounds a lot
better live than he ever did on the radio. His show at the Auditorium Theatre
on March 9 brought out more stonewashed jeans and mullets than there were in
the summer of ’69 (sorry, I couldn’t resist — cuts like a knife, doesn’t it?)
Adams looked and sounded lean and mean and bluesy with a loud yet decipherable
(this frequently is not the case at the Aud) band.
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย Opener Jen Chapin — that’s right, Harry’s daughter — belted out some
stripped-down soulful jazz accompanied only by a string bass. It was super
tasty, sexy, and just a wee bit too heady for the 1,500 or so honkies who came
for some rock ‘n’ roll. Watch for this chick, she was really cool. The cat’s
outta the cradle now.
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย I missed The Purrs last show. I guess I just wanted to remember them how
they were. But hey, I heard El Destructo is gonna start a girl band next. Cool.
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย Two Saturdays ago it was Mid-Air Collision‘s last show. JJ says
he’s out of material. I hope he puts together something soon. I really liked
this band. They were unique to this scene and drew from obscure rock references
— some so odd, in fact, that they haven’t even heard of them.
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย Openers and crowd favorites The Veins rocked melodically hard and
sweet with the addition of a second guitar player. This added to the group and
thankfully didn’t crowd the sound. They just sounded more like the album. Jett
is still God.
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย Cleveland’s Red Giant played tight, jolly, and hard, sporting three guitar
necks operated by two guitarists. Some call it stoner rock. I just call it
heavy. Maybe ’cause I wasn’t stoned.
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย Harmonica tip of the day: Rob Cullivan says use the first four
holes only.
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย Friday night I heard spaghetti-western
twang swirled up through the Jamaican palms via the Canadian tundra as The Reggae Cowboys took the Montage
stage. Deep one-drop grooves with synchronized stage stepping — these guys
were cool and enthralling.
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย Saturday afternoon you could hear
1,000 hearts breaking as Rochester drummer-scenester-social studies teacher Ernie O said, “I do.” It’s the end of
an era. Am I the only one left who believes in the institution of bachelorhood?
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย Yeah, the blues is all right but John Mayall is a big baby. I think when
an artist shows up in really comfortable shoes and a fanny pack, it’s not going
to be a good show. Mayall was more keen on hawking his wares from the
merchandise table or finding out who stole his peanut butter than he was in
rockin’ the joint. The packed house dug him, but I found him to be pretty lame.
The opening act was cute, but acted like a bunch of jerks too.
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย It’s Monday night. Do you know where
your Thundergods are? That’s right,
somewhere on stage rockin’ it right. This is simultaneously Rochester’s best
and sloppiest band — often in the same song.
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย A false start or a little song list
confusion doesn’t sway these guys. Their rock fandom shines through. They’re
the ones responsible for my Close’n Play blowing up after I spun their
“Soulcrusher” seven-inch years ago. Thanks, guys. It cost me eight bucks at the
Blessed Sacrament sale.
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย The T-Gods opened Monday night at the
Bug Jar for LA underground rock legends The
Lazy Cowgirls — who were anything but. Looking like a quartet of dads,
the band rocked hard with awesome guitar tone blaring from both sides of the
stage. What?
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย And for all you morons who teased me
for diggin’ Maroon 5 — “Oooh,
they’re just a boy band” — they’re huge now. Told ya. And their song, “This
Love,” is great. So up yours.
This article appears in Mar 24-30, 2004.
