Rock 'n' Roll Worcester
I always get annoyed with people who say there's nothing to do in this city. Seriously. They can't be trying. I'm usually drowning in things to do, more than I could ever possibly get to, let alone if I want to spend time with my wife and get my own writing done. As it is, I'm already sacrificing quality blogging time.
I talk to Greg McKillop, AKA Speaker for the Dead, in my "What You're Listening" To column, and in The Weekend Starts Now, I've got recommendations for Pamela Means, Catie Curtis, Danny Bedrosian & Secret Army, Dimmu Borgir, Judy Halebsky (Note! This event is Monday, not Sunday, becuase I evidently suck.), dualing pianos and a hip-hop conference at the DCU.
Saturday, I ventured out to the Halloween bash at the Hotel Vernon, and caught excellent sets by Mack the Knife and the Egos. Mack the Knife was electric, every song charged with energy and ferocity. The Egos, likewise, were a lot of fun, channeling a sort of Cramps vibe, which is never unwelcome and suited the Halloween vibe perfectly. Alas, left before the Gobshites went on, but such is life. Did catch the preview of Helen Sheldon Beaumont's upcoming "honky-tonk gospel" project with James Keyes. All in all, good fun, and a great show.
Sunday, I ended up with a ticket to go see the Cult at the Palladium. I'd never seen the band before, even though (as it turns out) I knew almost every song in the set. Funny how that works. I'd gotten there eary, so hung out upstairs to catch local metal band Zamia play. I quite liked it, and their technical skills aren't in doubt, but it did all seem a bit hollow. There's this thing, and you see it a lot with nascent metal bands, where the song becomes a bit of a math problem waiting to be solved. It's impressive, but it's lacking something. Still, they're talented, and one expects when they develop some showmanship and presence, they'll be a force to be reckoned with. (And in truth, I thought some of the Cure-esque riffs the guitarist was playing were pretty neat.)
Downstairs, Black Ryder opened the big show, and I have to say, they were really the find of the week for me. I was expecting something a bit more shoegazer, but they've got an amazing energy about them, and an infectious indie-rock vibe. The first few songs, with the male lead singer, were a little rote, but once the female lead took over, they were soaring. Great set, and I intend to pick up whatever they have out soon.
And then there's the Cult, and really, that's a hard-rocking band that does it right. The musicianship is tight, but there's a sort of effortlessness about it, which probably comes from doing it for more than 20 years (although I've seen other long-haul bands before that have seemed, well, kind of tired. None of that here.) Frontman Ian Astbury has a remarkable presence commanding the room with very little movement.
A friend goaded me into the pit, which wa a bit of a mistake, as my head was ringing for two days afterward. Evidently, I'm getting old.
Monday, I was unable to make it to Ralph's for the Sarah Sapienza/Madam Psychosis show, which is a bit of a regret. Last night, Lea and I made it to the Frances Perkins Library for the Ballard Street Poetry Journal release party, which featured great features by Joe Fusco Jr. and Daryl Muranaka. Fusco, of course, was funny as always. Muranaka was a bit of a find. A lot of his work is still stuck in that "MFA mill" formula, but some of the newer pieces he read were a bit more interesting, and I'm curious to see what comes from him in the future. Certainly, the combination of him and Fusco was interesting.
All in all, it's been a good week for going out, and Halloween aside, it's not even an uncommon one. This is a vibrant, active city, whatever people say. Anyone who tries to tell you otherwise is either willful or boring. But the next time i go see a big, loud band, I think I'll invest in some earplugs. Cause I'm getting old.
