Listen.com: Washington, DC Archives

Reviewed: John Lennon & The Plastic Ono Band Live in Toronto '69

Washington, DC By By Ted Scheinman June 25, 2009 | 12:06 PM Categories:

Beatles freaks love milestones, and when it comes to the big one--what moment portended the group's demise?--there's no shortage of possibilities. Was it the phone call Paul received chez the Maharishi informing him that the Beatles' business guru had died of a carbitral overdose? The half-baked Magical Mystery Tour project, Paul's money-hemorrhaging power-grab that Bob Spitz says "provided the first signs of their fallibility"? John's first meeting with Yoko Ono in 1966 (after which, John told Jan Wenner, "I decided to leave the group")? Any of the handful of times a Beatle traipsed out of the Let It Be sessions, swearing off the group forever, only to return?

...or, as numerous rock critics as well as the PR wing of Shout! Factory would have us believe, was it the Toronto Rock and Roll Revival Festival in September, 1969? Yesterday, Shout! rereleased D.A. Pennebaker's film of the Toronto concert (it's been off the shelves since BMG pulled a 2002 iteration), and in a wise marketing move the company has answered the above question with stirring finality: this concert, they assure us, "signalled the end of the Beatles."

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White Trash Renegades: The Supervillains, Authority Zero, Pennywise, and Pepper at the 9:30 Club

Washington, DC By Mike Riggs, Washington City Paper May 20, 2009 | 7:26 AM Categories:

Skate rock (Think Sublime's genetic material crossed with that of Minor Threat) is a lot like milt. Some people get a mouthful of the creamy white stuff and think, "So this is fish sperm. Not bad!" Other people take a bite, move it around with their tongues, and then say to themselves, "Oh god, I just put fish balls in my mouth." They panic. They look for a trash can, a napkin, maybe some condiments to amend the taste. They crunch up crackers and squirt cocktail sauce directly into their gaping, fishy maws. When that doesn't work, they spit what's left into their hands and shove it in their pockets.

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Record Review: Chester French's Love the Future

Washington, DC By Ted Scheinman, Washington City Paper May 8, 2009 | 8:39 AM Categories:

It was hard to cop a buzz from most of the northeast collegiate bands in the early oughts; the music was by and large unexceptional, and most of the musicians spent as much time in front of an easel--or wrapped around a bong--as they did practicing. But then there were the rumors coming out of Harvard: the college's most convincing band had a retro, jammy thing going on; they performed cheeky pop songs while wearing Bermuda tuxedos; their lead guitarist had a Trey-worthy tone but played with his back to the audience, Miles Davis-style, too aloof or too shy to give a proper rock 'n' roll performance.

A year later, I saw Chester French play a stuffed, sweaty Harvard venue known as the Fishbowl, and the guitarist had transformed. He gamboled about the stage, wagging his tongue at the audience and coining a curious update of the Chuck Berry duck-walk. Shredded, too. Their songs were generally OK, their stage presence above average, their ODB cover insolently upper-crust and a total slam-dunk.

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Das Mötørbike: How an imaginary band became a merciless send-up of genre-flogging

Washington, DC By Ted Scheinman, Washington City Paper May 8, 2009 | 8:31 AM Categories:

An occupational hazard in music criticism is the inevitable blurbology: over-hyphenated elevator pitches in favor of a new run of B-sides that "totally could have been A-sides" from a band seemingly defined by the number of genres it inhabits.

This was also the case in college. For example: someone mentions a group called, say, Dr. Pain and the Smooch of Death. "They're pretty cool," this person shrugs. (The shrug is always a warning sign.)

"What's it like?" you ask, bracing yourself.

"Oh, I dunno...it's, like, post-Punk-core with a dash of jizz-rock thrown in," this person will nod. You too will nod, and this person will endeavor to ply you with the grainy tracks in question; if there's weed in the room, you soldier through.

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Wyclef Jean@The Green Inaugural Ball: Kinda Sad

Washington, DC By Jason Cherkis, Washington City Paper January 19, 2009 | 7:23 AM Categories:

Sweetest Girl (dollar bill) - Wyclef Jean

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wyclef jean.jpg I just got back from the Green Inaugural Ball on Constitution Ave at the Andrew W. Mellon Auditorium. I'm sure Darrow will have photos of this event soon. But I was thinking: I just saw Wyclef Jean. And I felt nothing. At one point in my life, Jean's old band dominated every single house party I went to. Tonight, he looked kinda old slogging away with his bad Marleyisms. The dude wore a wife beater. He had a bumper sticker on his forehead. He's got a gut. He phoned in a version of the national anthem. He used a flange pedal on the national anthem. When's this guy going to get his own cruise ship?

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New Year's Eve: Robert Randolph and the Family Band at the 9:30 Club

Washington, DC By Ted Scheinman, Washington City Paper January 2, 2009 | 4:26 PM Categories:

Robert Randolph & the Family Band — "Ain't Nothing Wrong With That"

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About halfway through a Robert Randolph concert, the slide wunderkind kicks his chair back, throws his feet in the air, and starts spinning. This is the cue for the rest of the band to go into double time, and--if it's 12:01 a.m. on New Year's day--it's the cue for three million females to teeter onstage for the dubious privilege of having champagne sprayed at them. For a brief moment, the 9:30 Club feels like Cancun in mid-March: the jam disintegrates, replaced by awkward, arrhythmic dancing.

Then the ladies evacuate and the Randolphs get back to putting on the best live show in the country.

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Preview: The Hideout's Big Shoulders Ball @ The Black Cat in D.C.

Chicago Washington, DC By Peter Margasak. Chicago Reader December 17, 2008 | 11:05 AM Categories:

Day of the Dead - Waco Brothers

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Anyone who's been by the Hideout over the last few months knows that the bar's owners have been enthusiastic supporters of Barack Obama--a huge banner of the president-elect's face has hung over the building's facade since the election season heated up, and co-owner Tim Tuten has frequently used his interminable band intros as mini Obama rallies.

As a culmination of the Hideout's participation in the campaign, the club has organized the Big Shoulders Ball, a blowout concert on Monday, January 19--the night before the inauguration--at the Black Cat in Washington, D.C. Tortoise, the Waco Brothers, Eleventh Dream Day, Jon Langford & Sally Timms, David "Honeyboy" Edwards, Ken Vandermark, Freakwater, Icy Demons, and Judson Claiborne are confirmed and "special guests" are promised. In keeping with Hideout's scrappy vibe, attendees are "encouraged (but not required!) to wear vintage, thrift-store, hand-me-down and ex-bridesmaid formal attire."

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Last Week In Concert: John Legend, Raphael Saadiq, and Dr. John

Washington, DC By Ted Scheinman, Washington City Paper December 15, 2008 | 2:54 PM Categories:

Raphael Saadiq — "Let's Take a Walk"

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Saadiq/Legend at DAR Constitution Hall; Dr. John and the Lower 911 at Blues Alley

Raphael Saadiq and Dr. John are both on tour at present, peddling different brands of regressively delightful music to packed, loyal audiences. The Doctor (Mac Rebennack, to get technical) and Saadiq (né Wiggins) wear their influences on their sleeves and dress in full-on vintage: Rebennack in voodoo regalia, Saadiq in a chickadee-yellow suit and oversize horn-rims.

The distinction, of course, is that the Saadiq's throwback pose is provisional; the Doctor's is dynastic.

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Review: The Who at the Verizon Center

Washington, DC By Ted Scheinman, Washington City Paper November 10, 2008 | 9:20 AM Categories:

"Gettin' In Tune" — The Who

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Pete Townshend didn't duck-walk on Monday night. He didn't curse, or smash his guitar, or clock Abbie Hoffman in the back of the head. In fact, he didn't do anything of which your mother wouldn't approve.

Which isn't to say that the Who in its current incarnation lacks vim, vigor, or even cheek...just that the guys who came to prominence as purveyors of auto-destructive art now seem more intent on self-preservation.

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