live show

Live in Louisville

admin — Thu, 15 Apr 2010 00:00:00 +0000

“Well you have it, you love it, now it’s your turn to shove it…I don’t want to play house anymore,” sings Carrie Rodriguez on her newly released live compilation album, Live in Louisville. Her soulful voice, accompanied by rousing fiddles, makes her point with grace and force. The tunes on the album come from Rodriguez’ various other projects, but the most colorful are those she takes the credit for writing.

“I Don’t Want to Play House Anymore,” “Seven Angles on a Bicycle,” (from the album of the same name), and “Never Gonna Be Your Bride” are among the more upbeat sounds on the album, but that doesn’t mean the rest are purely maudlin. The slower tracks on the album are as much soulful as they are haunting.

The eclectic sounds of her band would put her solidly in an Americana, that amalgam of roots music that revisions country, folk, and blues, but the unique twists and turns of her voice bridge the renewed attention to the genre with more traditional bluegrass and even the more sentimental songwriting of Jewel, Indigo Girls, and Julie Roberts (of country fame).

There is an element of the unexpected in each song, whether it’s a musical bridge or a turn of phrase, and the dusky sound of Rodriguez’s voice seems to make her the perfect candidate for a closing credits track on HBO’s True Blood—a new Grey’s Anatomy of sorts for launching the hottest new music.

Rodriguez can please the country in you while reminding you through her pertinent lyrics that you’re alive, you share in disasters and joys like the rest of us. And just as you’re ready to dismiss one track as too country or too slow, the next places you squarely in New Orleans among an impromptu fiddle fest or back into a dark, dank bar with a lonely mic.

Live in Louisville's variety—in voice and vision—is well worth a listen.

Written by: Dr. Julie E. Ferris, April 14th 2010

Ani DiFranco (03/18/2009)

admin — Tue, 31 Mar 2009 16:55:00 +0000

Club Cinema

Pompano Beach, Florida

At the Ani DiFranco concert in Pompano Beach, FL, a woman next to me hadn’t heard Red Letter Year. But she wouldn’t have missed the show: “If it’s Ani, then I’m there.”

I confess. I’m the same. I don’t have the new album. But it’s Ani. So I was there.

Allie Evans, who works on Ani’s tours, talked about the audience response: “The economy may not be strong... yet people are excited [when they see the show].” It’s more than the music. It’s connection she has with community. Evans also noted the diverse ages of the audiences: “It used to be only college kids, now there are young people with their parents... and fans who have been with Ani for twenty years.”

Twenty years already? If you’ve listened to Ani for awhile, then it’s hard not to feel older at this concert. Yet it’s true, there are all ages. Women with gray hair, and women born in the nineties wearing turned-up collars like its the ‘80s.

I heard another woman at the concert, Ximena, say to her boyfriend: “Baby, there are a lot of guys here!” There were quite a number of men. A white-haired man wore a t-shirt with the words: Ani Fucking DiFranco. Ximena gave an enthusiastic review of the new album: “It’s different... slower, but inspiring. With every album, I learn more about her. She shows evolution. This new album has the political angst, but there’s also a happiness, a glow, an aura.”

Less angst. Would I like this Ani?

I had listened to her since college, related to her songs about politics, art, love, breakups. Two years ago, Ani became a mother. For the first time, I felt shut out of her experience because I don’t think I want children. Would I be able to relate to her music in the same way?

Toshi Reagon opened for Ani by playing acoustic guitar and singing about mountaintops. She brought us to summits with her resounding voice. However, halfway through a song, she directly addressed some loud patrons by the bar at the back of the club. The interruption was slightly disconcerting for those of us who had been listening to her, yet it was powerful to see Reagon use this moment to talk about respect and community building. She left a lasting impression.

DiFranco’s first song was the classic “Anticipate.” Allison Miller was on drums, and Todd Sickafoose was on upright bass. They played from Red Letter Year, as well as older songs like “Dilate,” “Both Hands,” and “Every State Line.”

If you’re an Ani fan, you don’t need to know every song to get something out of them. “The little folk singer” tells stories in her lyrics about New Orleans, President Obama’s election, and women “connected to everything.” She also spoke about her daughter learning to say “cookie” and “book,” and noted that “some blame my happiness on the baby, but I think it’s my four year love.” This was the perfect introduction to “Present/Infant,” a song from the new album.

Ani is happy, but she stayed honest. No elixirs, no get-happy-quick schemes. She has changed, yet what is best about her hasn't. She is not done exploring and questioning the world around her. She is not done learning about herself.

We listened to sixteen songs during her main set, and three during an encore, so the concert ticket holds its value. But the value of this concert is worth more than money.

If it’s Ani, then you should be there.

Written by: Andrea Dulanto, March 31st 2009

The Hotel Café Tour (11/1/2008)

admin — Wed, 07 Jan 2009 00:05:00 +0000

Music Hall of Williamsburg

Brooklyn, New York

The Hotel Café began as a tiny coffee shop in Hollywood, California. Since then, it has developed into a twenty-one-and-older venue. In its initial cozy environs, the performers created a warm, collaborative environment, sharing the stage and watching each other perform. Four years ago, the Hotel Café began to tour with some of its most promising acts. The particular show that I attended in Williamsburg, Brooklyn was an eclectic collection of indie-folk festivities. The night started off with a penis made of tin foil being tossed around the stage by the performers. Meiko explained that she'd given it to the guitarist on the tour bus the night before for "the biggest cock" award. Rachel Yamagata later clarified that it was actually “the biggest dick" award.

For the person looking to see a show with various and odd instruments, the show had some highlights. During one of her songs, Thao whipped out a toothbrush, and strummed along with it. This allowed the notes to ring out a little longer, and the beginnings of each chord to sound more compelling. Another featured artist who plays instruments beyond the guitar was Emily Wells. Emily has her own collection of toy pianos that she uses when she performs.

The inside jokes shared between the artists and audience contributed in making the night entertaining on multiple levels. Lacking a steady line-up, the artists provided a more spontaneous feel for the night. Taking turns playing about three songs, the girls of The Hotel Café Tour are grounded in the Hotel Café’s roots. They remained on stage while each artist played their songs in order to give each other support while joking along with the audience and sharing stories about what led to the creation of the songs. Diverse as all of the acts were, they shared the common bond of being strong women.

Written by: Elyssa Lovelyss, January 6th 2009

Nine Inch Nails (12/7/2008)

admin — Sun, 04 Jan 2009 00:57:00 +0000

Rose Garden Arena

Portland, Oregon

I've never been a diehard Nine Inch Nails fan, but have listened to them on and off since high school. I've never seen frontman Trent Reznor or his music as misogynistic; in fact, "Closer" is one of my all-time favorite songs. And to be fair, the only semi-nude images on visual display in this show were equal opportunity, male and female.

Whatever else you want to say about them, NIN gave fans in Portland, Oregon their money's worth. Playing for more than two hours—with a five-song encore—we were treated to old favorites like "Head Like a Hole" and "Closer," taking us back to a time where materialism was (briefly) very un-hip. Reznor's performance of tracks from NIN's more recent albums (With Teeth, Year Zero, and The Slip) such as "The Collector," "The Hand That Feeds," and others, were equally juiced.

Reznor, who never uses the same band for more than one tour, selected a very talented ensemble for this one; his musicians, dressed to match him in his trademark black muscle T-shirt and jeans, used an unusual variety of instruments that included the lap steel (on "All the Love in the World"), banjo, and cello. While I was warned ahead of time by a longtime fan to bring earplugs, the sound quality at Portland's Rose Garden Arena was so perfectly engineered that they weren't necessary. An amazing light show added to the performance. The one exception was an extended version of "A Warm Place," which, coupled with the serene lily pond setting, nearly put me to sleep.

The only disappointment—in addition to getting charged $5.75 for a Diet Coke—was NIN's opening act, The Bug. This quasi-reggae singer, paired with loud (versus good) electronica, seemed to do little more than gyrate her hips while repeating the words "crazy motherfuckers" most of the time she was on stage. Tiring, to say the least.

Written by: M.L. Madison, January 3rd 2009

1st International Body Music Festival (12/07/2008)

admin — Tue, 30 Dec 2008 11:19:00 +0000

Theatre Artaud

San Francisco, California

I wasn’t sure what to expect. What is body music anyway? It’s more than music you can see, and dance you can hear. It’s more than the percussive sounds and melodies made by rhythmic clapping, stomping, chanting, cheek popping, and belly- and chest-slapping that can perfectly mimic any instrument or generate sounds you’ve never heard.

Body music is a collaboration among performers and spectators that takes one of our most basic assets and transforms it into a medium through which we connect, communicate, and create a music of movement.

The nearly week-long International Body Music Festival was the first of its kind, bringing together a variety of body music styles from nine ensembles in settings that were both educational and entertaining. Youth and teacher training workshops filled the days, while concerts featuring throat singers, hambone, Slammin All-Body Band, Balinese Kecak (or monkey chant), and Brazilian body music ensemble Barbatuques took place during the evenings.

The festival’s final concert began with the young woman of Top Notch Steppers, a San Francisco-based drill team. Next, Canadian cousins Celine Kalluk and Lucie Idlout performed the ancient art of Inuit throat singing (katajjaq), whereby the partners use each others’ mouths as resonators to produce guttural vocal sounds through distinctive voice manipulation and breathing techniques. In an intimate nose-to-nose stance, the woman sang in a playful contest to see who could outlast the other. Derique McGee kept the audience laughing with his youthful presentation of clowning and hambone—a style of body music originating from the plantation-era when slaves were banned from using rhythmic instruments.

Truly striking, though, was the brilliant premier of the Barbatuques-Slammin collaboration. Close your eyes and try to imagine the sounds of a tropical rainforest as day breaks—of an orangutan, frog, or rooster. Imagine horns and flutes, the infectious harmonies of a jazz band, and a dance-inducing percussive pulse. Now, imagine all of this accomplished with nothing more than one’s body. In the grand finale, Brazil’s Barbatuques and Oakland’s Slammin All-Body Band transcended barriers of time and space as they moved through a fresh cross-cultural dialogue of diverse body rhythms. The organic, authentic performance pulled from rich musical traditions and transformed spectators into participants.

While the performers departed from expected norms of music creation, I noticed too that the customary categories of distinction (and often oppression), seemed to melt away as well. The first International Body Music Festival opened up an egalitarian space, offering an inspiring exploration into the roots of music and community cohesion.

Written by: Sofia Marin, December 30th 2008

Musicfest Northwest (9/3-9/6/2008)

admin — Thu, 23 Oct 2008 23:44:00 +0000

Musicfest Northwest

Portland, Oregon

Now in its eighth year, Musicfest Northwest was held over three days in Portland, Oregon. Born from the ashes of the North by Northwest festival, MFNW is hosted by Portland’s less trendy, free weekly newspaper, the Willamette Week, and has grown rapidly since its inception, largely due to corporate sponsorship. MFNW showcases local, national, and even international acts, with the Scottish Mogwai headlining on the first night.

Held on the weekend after Labor Day, which usually signals the end of summer, MFNW was not going to compete with Seattle’s ever-popular Bumbershoot festival, held the previous weekend. Comparisons need to be made between the two festivals as their differences mark both pros and cons, as well as the reason two huge music festivals can successfully be held just a week apart in the Northwest’s two major cities.

Bumbershoot is both a music and arts festival that is held in one location and features markets, spoken word artists, dance, film and comedians. MFNW, on the other hand, focuses on just music, with three days of simultaneous gigs held at various locations. A little agoraphobic, I was at first relieved to hear that MFNW was not going to be just some big clusterfuck of people squeezed into one space, wandering around not really knowing where to go, and getting crushed by crowds at the performances they wanted to see. The other alternative, however – having two performances you want to see at two different locations around town – was a little disconcerting for someone who doesn’t drive and doesn’t like going out alone at night.

You see, Portland is not starved for gigs. Trying to get a buddy to go along with me to big shows, even for free, was hard since they were getting over a previous big weekend. Some said they'd already seen too many bands, others that they had to wash their hair. While Portland is pretty easy to bike around, I basically just picked one venue each night and stayed there. This didn’t feel that festive to me; it was just like going to any other gig. A lot of the shows were also held in bars, and while it was a nice difference to other music festivals surrounded by a lot of annoying drunk or high teenagers in the blistering sun, I also remembered that I was once one of them and would have been bummed to be excluded from some of the shows.

Buying a wristband meant you didn't have to get tickets for individual gigs, and at $50 the price was right. However, this did not guarantee you entry into a gig once it reached capacity and that meant you had to show up early, which would be hard if you wanted to travel around town cherry picking the particular acts you wanted to see. I recognize the merits of not having everyone crammed in one place and having a lot of gigs over one weekend so you can plan time off work and invite your buddies to town and really plot out the performances you want to see, but in the smoky bars, I did find myself longing for the days of outdoor summer festivals, wandering around in the midst of thousands of people, and lounging on the grass eating fried food.

I liked the fact there was many local, lesser known acts which showcased the diversity and high calibre of the Portland music scene. The lineup and diversity of the bands was great, with too many to mention here. What I would have like to have seen was more panels and documentaries, of which there were only two of each.

If you are serious about music, black out your calendar, bring a couple of friends, get a bike and map of Portland, and experience a wide variety of great music in the city next fall.

Written by: Jyoti Roy, October 23rd 2008

Tegan and Sara (10/9/2008)

admin — Thu, 16 Oct 2008 23:49:00 +0000

Riveria Theatre

Chicago, Illinois

It must be nice to be in a band with your twin sister. Shared skinny jeans, skinny genes, and hipster hair products make costuming a breeze, and a sound-alike bandmate eliminates the technical hassle of overdubbing vocals. Plus, you know the other person so well that you can make fun of them on stage, as Canadian duo Tegan and Sara demonstrated at Chicago’s Riveria Theatre.

“I forgot what a shithole this place is,” my 'plus one', better known as Grace Yip from Grace the Spot, lovingly remarked upon our arrival. The Riv really is the best of all possible places to see a rock show. A crumbling tribute to the uptown neighborhood’s past affluence, seedy recent past, and current gentrification projects, the cavernous building resembles a mix between a subway station, an airplane hangar, and nightmare mix of Phantom of the Opera and that weird pseudo-play in Interview with the Vampire, complete with chandeliers and a not-so-recent green, black, and purple paint job.

Within minutes of taking the stage, the sisters Quin brought up the house lights and asked the youngsters on the floor not to crush so desperately toward the stage because it was making the folks up front nervous. After a few songs, Tegan begins to tell a story about her old apartment, the rotten potatoes that drove her from it, and the song that this experience inspired, but was interrupted by screeching from the audience. Her sister rushed to her defense: “Let me ask you seriously. Did you consume meth or PCP before this show? Did you drink a Monster or Redbull energy drink? Or is it Tegan’s haircut?”

At first I appreciated the banter. Those darn kids are annoying, I thought, glowering from the crotchety seats upstairs. They cheered only at the popular songs and at points seemingly unrelated to what was happening on stage. I enjoy it when silly hipsters get mocked, but so do they - hence the problem of the Tegan and Sara concert.

While cruising the blogosphere for a set list, I found that someone on a similar quest had been chastised by one of her peers who wrote, “No one’s going to be looking at you. They’re all there to see Tegan and Sara.” Right. Looking at them. Not listening to them. It seemed like a scene devoid of any real interest in the music. After reading more comments from this page, it seemed clear from the conversation that the music is a secondary consideration for both fans and haters. Admittedly, I was only there because the tickets were free, but even many of the fans were just there to see and be seen, causing Tegan and Sara to emphasize their scrutiny of audience behavior.

I finally did find a set list for one of their New York shows and some great, probably illegal pictures that closely resembled the ones I saw on Brooklyn Vegan. Most of the songs played early on were from The Con while the older, more well-known songs were played later in the evening. “Burn Your Life Down” really resonated with me that night, but I felt like no one else was digging it. The audience cheered wildly for “Walking with a Ghost,” as well as Rhianna’s “Umbrella,” and by the end of the encore, “Back in Your Head,” most of the audience was on its feet and singing along.

I know that many bands have trouble getting concert-goers to be as excited about their new work as they are about well-worn favorites, but this audience was more excited about the performers than any of the music they produced. They cheered more loudly for the explanation of “Love-type Thing” (the duo’s only love song because "they have difficulty writing about happy things") than for any of the songs themselves. Granted, Tegan and Sara are awesome people. They schooled the audience on the difference between Sarah’s haircut and a mullet, and exhorted us to vote the direction of that haircut (she parts to the left). And I'll admit that I was caught up in it too, almost forgetting to write about how the silly girl behind me who thought it would be “like, so awesome” to be invited along on the tour bus. But at one point, even Tegan asked, “Can we put the house lights down and be a rock show instead of a comedy team?”

I liked Tegan and Sara's music; it was pleasant, driving, and catchy. This rendering of their tunes was even well-executed. But it was hard to enjoy the show while being distracted by the constant interruptions, and I was not overly impressed by the performance. What did impress me, though, was one of the opening bands.

I missed much of Girl in a Coma because I was at Fiesta Mexicana grabbing a taco. When I walked up to the third floor and heard only guitars, I assumed some Godsmack-wannabe band was playing in the wrong club. Ow, I thought, LOUD. But then I heard that voice.

Seventeen-year-old Nina Diaz blew me away. A powerhouse mix that I compared that night to both Joss Stone and Kim Deal, her voice is described by the band as “at turns mesmerizing, hypnotic, playful, thunderous, and soft, and has been compared to artists as diverse as Bjork, Patsy Cline, and Morrissey.” Diaz’s vocals float over the noisy, feedback-laden instrumentals of this three woman band, which lists The Smiths, the Yeah Yeah Yeahs, and the Pixies among their influences. Tegan and Sara put on a solid, fan pleasing show, but Girl in a Coma is really the band to watch out for.

Written by: H. V. Cramond, October 16th 2008

Decibelle (9/23 - 9/27/2008)

admin — Sun, 05 Oct 2008 23:48:00 +0000

Decibelle Festival

Chicago, Illinois

To quickly describe my feelings regarding Decibelle (formerly known as Estrojam), allow me to offer this scenario. Imagine a child describing FAO Schwartz, moments after she's visited the toy store for the first time: "There's so much to do! There's so much to see! I danced and laughed and cried! I met great people! It was the most fun I've had all summer!"

I've been sitting in my laptop's glare for days, wondering how to articulate these gushing sentiments more eloquently before I finally realized that the festival doesn't deserve a dry critique. It needs a personal recount that comes straight from my fiery, fuchsia, feminist heart.

For those unfamiliar, Decibelle is a week-long event in which women demonstrate their art, music, and share skills through workshopping. The festival occurs every year in Chicago. Proceeds from this year's festival benefited Young Women's Empowerment Project and FAIR Fund.

Part of this year's festival was the long-anticipated documentary The Gits. Of all of the equally wonderful things I witnessed at Decibelle, I must admit that this movie completely floored me. The film perfectly captured the punk band's emotional and musical bonds, as well as their ties to the community and Seattle’s music scene. The film’s focus was on the talented life and tragic death of frontwoman Mia Zapata. The Gits took many years to make, and the ending was changed after the police finally caught Zapata's killer.

I first read about Zapata's life in Inga Muscio's book Cunt: A Declaration of Independence. I vividly remember being 15 years old, learning about sexual assault and feminism. I read about how strong and creative Zapata was, and how her violent death inspired communities to begin self-defense programs (such as Home Alive). Knowing this, I had an idea of what I was in for before I viewed the film.

"I'm gonna try not to cry," I laughed nervously to a friend. It was impossible to stay dry, though. The documentary made me feel like I had known Zapata personally. Afterwards, I felt as though I'd partied, played music, and mourned with her and her friends. I swore I could smell the cigarette smoke of the punk venues and taste the beer from the band’s rehearsals.

After viewing this film, learning from Decibelle's music workshops, and listening to so many female musicians, I feel that my creativity has been revived. An artistic version of CPR, if you will. I now feel more confident to pursue my own artistic endeavors. I think that is what Decibelle is really all about: not only can women do anything they set their mind to, but we can also do it with both style and purpose.

Written by: Jacquie Piasta, October 5th 2008

Live Earth (7/7/2007)

admin — Fri, 13 Jul 2007 12:57:00 +0000

Giants Stadium

New York, New York

Live Earth, Al Gore’s spectacular series of concerts for the environment Earth, has been a magnet for mainstream media cynics, who point to amplifiers, lights and garbage as evidence that the whole thing was one big festival of hypocrisy. But for a member of the throng at Giants Stadium, at least, the atmosphere felt as political and optimistic as any show in memory. The audience was sporting a record number of anti-Bush T-shirts, and there were twice as many tree-hugger types wandering around in green as there were Jersey frat boys swigging Bud and holding their breath for Bon Jovi.

Between sets, celebrities and environmentalists like Jane Goodall, RFK Jr, Leonardo DiCaprio and Cameron Diaz spoke about the environment—and for once, most seemed less polished than earnest as they pled with the audience to make a difference. And the stage was stormed again and again by passionate musicians, egos and entourages aside, who proved that if music can’t clean up the environment, it’s one of the most powerful tools out there to change minds. It almost felt like the 60s.

Live Earth’s message brought out the best in a dizzying array of bands and artists, whose performances ranged from generically positive to genuinely transcendental. The show’s spiritual kickoff came from the biggest rock star of all, Gore himself, who introduced a freewheeling duet between Alicia Keys and Keith Urban of the Rolling Stones’ “Gimme Shelter,” a song which hasn’t lost its prophetic quality despite the ensuing decades. Keys later came back and covered Marvin Gaye’s “Mercy Me (The Ecology),” another 60s anthem that’s still too pertinent.

Recent Oscar Winner Melissa Etheridge had the most unabashedly political set of the show. Although a song about Cindy Sheehan and the war might be an unconventional choice, she had the fed-up crowd nodding with religious fervor. Kelly Clarkson’s loveable, angry-girl shtick paled in comparison to Etheridge’s righteous indignation. While Clarkson moaned about rejection by her lovers, Etheridge preached, telling her audience to resist the pull of consumerism and fight the powers that be.

Not to be outdone by the rocker-chicks, Akon, Ludacris and Kanye West demonstrated the overlooked fact that the rhythms of hip-hop can be as appropriate for saving the world as they are for grooving at a club. The stadium’s front section went wild for Akon, who rode through its midst on a security guard’s shoulder, touching hands and jamming to a song about Africa—which, he told the audience, is everyone’s homeland. West elicited squeals when he sprinted across the stage during a manic set that encompassed nearly all of his past singles and some hot upcoming tracks.

Heroes of the college scene Dave Matthews Band sent their fans into raptures with a short but mesmerizing group of appropriate songs - like “One Sweet World” and “Don’t Drink the Water” - while chilled-out guitar maestro John Mayer soothed the audience with his somewhat lackadaisical protest song, “Waiting on the World to Change.”

Most of the bands performed under the bright sun, giving the concert a laid-back summer-festival vibe. But once the light faded and Gore reappeared to introduce hometown heroes Bon Jovi, the stadium suddenly felt like a glamorous New York event with a surprising degree of intimacy.

The triple-punch of classic closing trio the Smashing Pumpkins, Pink Floyd’s Roger Waters and the Police elicited the kind of awe bestowed only on truly classic rockers. Pumpkins frontman Billy Corgan delivered beautifully sour vocals that summoned up the rage of early-90s alternative music. Lighters and cellphones floated in the dark as audience members crooned along with a mellow Waters to “Another Brick in the Wall” and “Dark Side of the Moon.” West and Meyer jammed along with the Police during the final number, appropriately “SOS.” “We can save the world!” West shouted along with Sting’s vocals.

And it felt like we could save the world, because the grandiose universe of pop music, nothing is impossible. The fusion of anger and resilience that rock embodies prevailed on Satuday. Throwaway lyrics seemed profound, while the specter of war and disaster diminished. Whether the day’s inspiration will translate to action remains to be seen. But between the hope of the artists and the cynicism of the media, I’m going with the former.

Written by: Sarah Seltzer, July 13th 2007

BARR - Live in Philly (2/19/2007)

admin — Wed, 21 Mar 2007 03:50:00 +0000

BARR

Philadelphia, PA

There’s nothing more refreshing than a band who doesn’t take themselves too seriously, particularly when they are this catchy. Even more inspiring is a band who, perhaps unknowingly, manages to deconstruct what it means to be a male musician.

It was my first time. Seeing BARR was a release like no other. Their performance exhibited a seamless balance of blunt honesty and raw optimism. Even before they began their set, the band’s playful interactions and infectious smiles radiated warmth throughout the dim basement of the West Philadelphia venue, Clap It Off.

It was moments before the band began to play their first song, conveniently titled “First,” that I began to realize just how genuine and sincere of a place they were coming from. A slow introduction on the piano and drums gained momentum and intensity, finally giving way to the chaotic and poetic vocals of singer Brendan Fowler. Fowler stumbled over instruments as his earnest emotions poured out onto the basement floor. The drums picked up tempo and a catchy bass line occupied the space as the band moved right into “The Song is The Single.”

Fowler’s flailing arms and staggered legs suggested an openness and vulnerability I rarely witness at shows. It was as if the audience was given permission to read the trembling words and phrases of someone’s diary. We were let into Fowler’s own internal dialogue, laden with uncertainty and candor. The result was a beautifully circular stream of consciousness performance akin to spoken word layered with captivating melodies.

BARR offered the closest thing to a non-gendered performance I have ever experienced. This, in so many ways, was both liberating and reassuring. Was it possible that my notions of “male musician” had been so narrow?

BARR did not take on the stereotypically masculine character that taints so many musicians. In fact, they did what is unheard of for an all-male band. Through their movement, disposition, lyrics and melodies, they were able to expand definitions of gender, music and sexuality, thus blurring these strict and often paralyzing categories.

Written by: Sofia Marin, March 20th 2007