My Favorite Shows Of 2011

If I have any perennial list-readers here, most of them probably sighed preemptively as they imagined what would top my list this year, and they’re all correct: U2 (really impossible to choose between the two shows I saw), Phish (night one at UIC being the best of the seven), Secret Chiefs 3 at the Empty Bottle, Animal Collective at Pitchfork, and Paul McCartney at Wrigley Field. Oops, ya got me: I have favorite bands. I know music critics aren't supposed to reveal those, but there's no sense keeping it a secret. But rather than blather on about them yet again, it’s probably more productive for me to mention the top ten non-my-favorite-band shows of the year. So here goes. (To keep it interesting, I’m going to gloss over other obvious big names (Wilco, Pearl Jam, Primus, STS9), since they’ve all been covered plenty.)

Wilco: Riverside Theater, 12/9/11

How was the Wilco show last Friday, everyone’s wondering? It was really, really good. But you knew that already, right? Pretty rare that the band plays a less-than-great show these days. In its aftermath, I’ve been pondering what the hell to write about it that would be different from what I’ve written about the other times I've seen Wilco. In fact, what was different about it? Yeah, they played a bunch of songs from The Whole Love, obviously, but that can’t be it. The real question is: was it better or worse than the other Wilco shows I’ve seen?

Anthrax/Testament: The Rave, 11/19

It’s not hard to understand why thrash keeps getting “revived”: the best of it, i.e. Testament and Anthrax, doesn’t get old. The problem is that most revival acts are actually a cut below tribute bands--dumbed-down imitations of the real thing but without the killer songs. While the template remains vibrant as ever, it has been done to perfection with little room for evolution. Or, if there is room, nobody’s figured out yet how to make it happen (The Black Album doesn’t count). So the best you’re going to get in a live thrash show happened at the Rave last Saturday, unfortunately.

Seizure Chicken Fall Festival (Night One)

The City Of Festivals kicked it up a notch this year, particularly on the local music front. Not only did we have a bigger-than-ever WMSE Radio Summer Camp, we’ve got Riverwest Fest coming up in a few weeks, and last weekend was the Seizure Chicken Fall Festival, whose title you really shouldn’t be scratching your head about if you live in Milwaukee. The local blog certainly does enough for the scene to warrant a two-night celebration, and this one was as eclectic as the musical tastes of the folks who write its content.

Mastodon: THE HUNTER

Clearly (mercifully?), everyone has blocked nü-metal from memory, like a teenage car crash or any other traumatic experience. How else can we explain the classification of The Hunter as “stoner” or “progressive”? Should we also rewrite history so that Sevendust and Puddle Of Mudd and Godsmack are actually “sludge metal”?

Wilco: THE WHOLE LOVE

It’s a hard road, becoming an experimental rock band: once you go there, you can never go back. You try, you make an unpretentiously catchy pop record, and critics and fans will desert you. “Not strange enough!” they’ll cry. So, ever since Wilco made Yankee Hotel Foxtrot and its follow-up, A Ghost Is Born, which featured a ten-minute noise barrage that most people at the time decried as impenetrable and pointless, the band has farmed increasingly familiar, folky, radio-friendly territory, orchestrating its own critical downslide. The gutsiest thing Wilco could’ve done in 2011 is release another slick album of ballads and shimmering pop-rockers. Instead, Jeff Tweedy and company took the safe route with The Whole Love and got a little bit weird again.

Loyal Divide: BODICE RIPPER

Once upon a time, there was a band called Lake Trout, and it was one of the best bands in the world, blending elements of jazz, electronica, punk and experimental indie rock into a powerful and ever-evolving stew of sound. Unfortunately, that band never hit it big, and its members evidently tired of the lack of recognition and moved on to other things. Let’s hope Loyal Divide doesn’t suffer a similar fate, because it’s the only other band I’ve come across that scratches a similar itch, as evidenced both by its live show and its new album, Bodice Ripper.

Colourmusic: MY___ IS PINK

True originality is becoming too much to ask these days (is that the most unoriginal thing I could possibly say?) so grudgingly, we’re all going to have to lower those standards a notch when discussing at least the early parts of the current decade. There hasn’t been an era of mimicry this blatant since the late 90s bands copped all the worst aspects of the early 90s bands and created post-grunge/nü-metal, ruining rock radio from that point on. Fortunately, a significant number of today’s crop of 80s-aping synthpop bands are actually making good music, and not just compared to Staind.

Primus: Orpheum Theatre, 10/13/11

I went to the Orpheum on Thursday pretty much blind; all I knew was that Primus would be playing two sets. If you’d told me in advance that I’d be subjected to the new Green Naugahyde in its entirety, I probably would’ve gone in with a bad attitude. Sure, I and the rest of the Les Claypool geekosphere have been clamoring for new material to freshen up setlists for many years, but just playing the whole new album is gimmicky, likely to be constraining, and, um, I don’t really dig the album very much so far. The main reason: there’s not enough Ler on it. He’s mostly relegated to generic, Andy Summers-style fake reggae and staccato background strumming, frequently drowned out by the bass. It sounds more like a Claypool solo album than Primus. Knowing that the band would at least play a goodly amount from the album, I already had pretty low expectations going in; I just knew I’d be seeing friends I hadn’t seen in too long, and whatever happened, we’d have a blast rocking out to the classics if nothing else.

Dick Dale: High Noon Saloon, 10/10/11

I thought about going to Miller Park yesterday to try and score a scalper ticket for the Brewer game, but for various reasons, I couldn’t bring myself to do it.  Probably for the best; I am, unfortunately, one of those idiots who can get extremely pessimistic when one of our millionaire pitchers gives up a two-run homer to the fourth batter he faces, then proceeds to stink up the place for his second of two postseason starts.  I suspect my interests, and the interests of anyone trying to enjoy the game, were better served by driving to Madison and catching Dick Dale; the guy is 74 and I’m on a roll the past couple of years with seeing old geezers rock out.  Dale might not have another tour left in him, and I’m sure the Brewers will get to another NLCS in my lifetime…(*shudder*)

Yawn: OPEN SEASON

I don’t enjoy drawing snarky parallels between band names and album titles and the nature of the music they represent, but Yawn makes it impossible to resist. I wouldn’t even say the music of Yawn is boring, in and of itself; if it were its own bubble in a vast cultural vacuum, it would probably seem at least decent. And no, there are no hunting references or any major spring/summer/fall/winter themes--or if there are, I’m not going to bother poking around for them. It’s just that in the wake of the success of Animal Collective’s Merriweather Post Pavilion, we all knew (didn’t we?) it was going to be open season on the AC sound, and this is the most pathetic, blatant ripoff imaginable. I’d swear there are actual samples from MPP sprinkled amidst the Panda Bear and Avey Tare impersonations, and they should sue (for instance, aren’t those the “Brother Sport” yelps right there in “Acid”??). There’s nothing more to even say about it. *YAWN*

Why I'm Sick Of Radiohead

Liam Gallagher , the bitterest Brit in the music biz, recently suggested that Radiohead ripped off The Beatles somehow with the tune “Karma Police”.  Anyone who’s ever heard an Oasis song knows how preposterous that accusation was, at face value, and the Gallagher brothers have a long history of slagging Radiohead in the press; if only Liam could’ve channeled his jealousy into a more pertinent argument…

Katatonia: Peabody's, 9/25/11

The general trajectory for metal bands is to start off heavy and caustic and noncommercial, then gradually write more accessible music amidst cries of sell-out and, occasionally, greater measurable success. Some fans of Katatonia’s early, guttural-doom albums probably gave up after 1998’s Discouraged Ones, and many who embraced the band’s more melodic direction likely jumped ship after hearing the electronic and indie rock influences on the barely-metal Last Fair Deal Gone Down in 2001. But despite those guardians of static integrity, the impact of this album went deeper than anyone could have predicted, cementing the legacy of Jonas Renske and Anders Nyström as truly unique songwriters and musicians and permanently breaking down musical boundaries for those fans open-minded enough to stick around.

Secret Chiefs 3: Empty Bottle, 9/17/11

Grudgingly, I’ve resigned myself to the fact that for all time, most folks just aren’t going to get obsessed with Secret Chiefs 3. In my impossible quest to be objective, the best I can come up with is that in terms of unique style crossed with instrumental versatility and prowess, they can’t be topped. I used to think Mr. Bungle, but in the long run Bungle doesn’t quite stack up consistently. As much as I love Mike Patton, his former Bungle cohort Trey Spruance has evolved waaaaaay more as an artist since the breakup, and is now making music much better than he ever did with Bungle.

One More Pearl Jam Thing

So much went on at PJ20 both in my head and on stages, I still haven’t gotten it all out.  So, at the risk of overstaying the band’s welcome with potential readers, here are my final words on the festival and the state of Pearl Jam.