Maserati : Live at Kung Fu Necktie

Initially Published Here

Maserati brought their Giorgio Moroder/Jan Hammer influenced brand of hard rock to Kung Fu Necktie with like minded souls Steve Moore, and Psychic Paramount, also on the bill. But this line-up of three instrumental “rock” acts was a true study in contrasts despite the complete absence of vocal mics all evening (Well, almost complete - does that Talk Box count?).

New York’s Psychic Paramount shares a classic guitar/bass/drums line-up with Maserati (as well as a love for looped keyboards) but their sound is decidedly more noisy and aggressive. Bassist Ben Armstrong seemed to be wrestling with his instrument at times, and I swear, in the end, the bass won. Guitarist Drew St. Ivany stuck to high frequencies, spraying out an array of squeals and scratches in order to be heard over the bottom-end din. And just when I thought neither band, nor audience, could withstand the sonic onslaught much longer, it was over.

Maserati, however, were never in danger of overheating. Their sound is carefully controlled and measured. Often described as evocative of a late night drive on an empty highway, it is easy to succumb to its hypnotic power when in the right frame of mind. This was just the second show of their tour in support of their new album, Pyramid of the Sun, and their first shows with new drummer A.E. Paterra (one half of Pittsburgh-based duo Zombi). Paterra was front and center on stage, and in the soundscape. He was spot on all night, even if he occasionally had that ‘new guy’, deer-in-the-headlights look on his face. Guitarists Matt Cherry and Coley Dennis rely on their delay boxes like metal bands rely on their distortion pedals; they are an integral part of the Maserati sound. Between Paterra’s powerful attack, the incessant interlocking guitar lines, and bassist Chris McNeal's propulsive riffs, this was rock n’ roll with considerable booty-shaking appeal. It’s a shame so few attendees at Kung Fu felt the urge to dance to the grooves being laid down. 

Steve Moore, the other half of Zombi, started the evening with 30 minutes of pulsing mood music played on vintage wood-paneled synths. Sounding like nothing less than the soundtrack to a long lost Dario Argento film, it was equal parts pretty and haunting, but not something you really need to experience live to enjoy to the fullest.

The Hold Steady : Live at the Trocadero

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The Hold Steady played their first headlining gig in Philadelphia in quite awhile at the Trocadero. Recent trips through the city saw them opening for Sonic Youth and Drive-By Truckers as well as a terrific bill with Devo at Festival Pier. It was also their first show in Philly since the departure of long-term keyboardist Franz Nicolay. I for one didn’t miss him all that much. They’ve got Dan Nuestadt of the World Inferno Society playing keyboards on this tour and he fills out their sound just fine without resorting to any of Nicolay’s hammy stage moves. Also on board for the first time is former Lucero guitarist Steve Selvidge. I can see why the band decided to beef up their guitar sound – Tad Kubler is a terrific musician, but Craig Finn’s guitar hangs from his neck untouched more than it is actually played. Selvidge enables them to bring the more anthemic sound of their latter records to the stage in all their widescreen, guitar-god glory.

And bring it they did in a 100-minute set that was a study in passion, intensity and the power of a great riff. The band has released five albums over the last seven years and they have built a catalog of insanely catchy songs all tied to Finn’s clever but emotionally direct lyrics. It’s been some time since I’ve seen a band shotgun great song after great song like the Hold Steady did for their first 45 minutes on stage. It’s a testament to just how solid their records are that there was never that inevitable “bathroom break” moment that many band’s seem to drop in their sets. Neither band nor audience got a breather.

Somewhere along the Finn started taking singing lessons and it shows. His delivery is smoother and just plain more musical than it’s ever been before. And while he still looks the part of a computer programmer dropped in front a rock band, his actual stage presence has developed as well. He works the crowd more assuredly than he has in the past and they ate it up. These are songs built for singing and clapping along and the sold out crowd was in the palm of his hand all night.

There was, however, an extremely awkward moment towards the end of the show. While the band went into an extended guitar break during “Your Little Hoodrat Friend” a seemingly inebriated and way too over zealous fan managed to crawl on stage. Rather than allow the bouncers to escort him off he fought vehemently not to leave, eventually pulling at the band’s equipment before getting cold-cocked and dragged from the stage. I was disappointed in the band’s obliviousness to what was going on right in front of them. The three guitarists were huddled together and never once looked up. Finn sheepishly acknowledged that he wasn’t sure what had happened before returning to their “regularly scheduled program.” The situation probably could have been suffused without the violence if the band had stepped in rather than remain aloof. It was an ugly moment on an otherwise joyous night.

Shellac : Live at the Bell House

Initially published here

When I told a friend I was leaving to go see Shellac play in Brooklyn, he rolled his eyes and said “Have fun. Cuz you know Shellac is all about fun!” Now, I appreciate why he would say this. Shellac plays an extremely aggressive, challenging brand of rock ’n’ roll. You’d be excused for thinking that their live show would amount to a test of wills between band and audience. How much pummeling could you take before yelling “Uncle!” and retiring to the bar?

In reality, Shellac’s live show is decidedly more user friendly than their albums. Dare I say they are … even … maybe … kinda fun? Maybe it was everything coming into alignment. Despite being sold out, the venue was not uncomfortably crowded. The crowd was attentive and enthusiastic but never crossed over into obnoxiousness, despite many opportunities during the band’s infamous Q&A sessions (Shellac takes questions from the audience several times during their set and the band’s rejoinders to even the most dopey comments were almost always witty, on point and remarkably quick).

It didn't hurt that the sound at the Bell House was excellent, with every instrument in sharp focus. I marveled at how clean Steve Albini’s guitar sound actually is. As “heavy” as it can be perceived in the context of the band’s songs, his actual set-up was shockingly devoid of distortion most of the time. So much so that when he did stomp on a pedal or two the impact was exhilarating. Bob Weston’s bass carries much of the melodic load leaving Steve to fill-in the picture with bursts of noise or quick flurries of simple, melodic riffing (they often sound like nothing more, or less, than ZZ Top re-imagined by MIT scientists). And Todd Trainer … well, there is a reason his drum kit is situated front and center. He is a marvel to watch; his body a mass of sinew and twitching muscle. He has an explosive power unmatched by just about any other drummer working today, but his real skill lies in his ability to show restraint. Like Albini, his impact is felt much harder by knowing just when and how much to pull in on the reins.

We got some of the “hits” and we got some new tunes, which was encouraging. This is a band that has put out a paltry four full-lengths in 16 years. Instead of touring, they do small clusters of shows, usually centered around a festival or event (in this case, they had just played the All Tomorrow’s Parties fest in upstate NY). They’ve made it clear that they consider their band a passion, not a career. And as such, I feel like I can’t waste any future opportunity that arises to see this rare bird.

Superchunk : Live at the Trocadero

Initially published here

I don’t know how many Superchunk shows I’ve seen over the years (a dozen? twenty? more?), but their recent performance at the Trocadero may have been the best one yet. On tour for the first time in eight years promoting their first new album in nine years, there was reason enough to expect little more than an exercise in '90s nostalgia. But said new album (Majesty Shredding) is on par with anything in their catalog and the six new tunes they sprinkled throughout their 90-minute set were greeted just as enthusiastically as their classics.

You could sense that the band was truly appreciative of the warm response to the new material. Frontman Mac McCaughan’s frequent gratitude never seemed less than genuine and hard-won. Alluding to a slightly less-than-excited Boston crowd the night prior, he suggested that perhaps drummer Jon Wurster was just a little goosed to be playing in front of his hometown crowd (Wurster is in fact from Bucks County, but we’ll let that slide). Whatever it was, his propulsive playing pushed every song just a little bit harder and his bandmates responded in kind. My initial disappointment at getting “only” 90 minutes was quickly forgotten as I acknowledged that it would have been damn near impossible to sustain such a high level of intensity for much longer. Even the handful of slower tempo songs (“Like a Fool," “Fractures in Plaster," “Kicked In”) were played with a rigor and forcefulness rivaling the most manic moments in the set.

And there were many manic moments -- “I Guess I Remembered it Wrong," “Hyper Enough," “Slack Motherfucker” and “Precision Auto," all rivaling any prior performance I’ve ever seen. In the eight years since the band last played Philly they have done sporadic one-off shows, several of which I’ve caught (two South by Southwest showcases and "The Daily Show"’s 10th Anniversary party come to mind). But I suspect that playing night after night, even if just for the two weeks of this relatively short jaunt, has brought them back to the peak of their powers. Let’s hope that more shows like this one at the Troc will encourage them to keep Superchunk going as something a little more than just the part-time endeavor it has become.