Now that I'm set to head out on Thursday, here's my pre-R.E.M. Wednesday night report.
For starters, caught two excellent sets at the convention center. Ra Ra Riot, the six piece Syracuse, NY indie rock band whose multi-faceted attack includes the orchestral flourishes - with a cello and violin - plus front man Wes Miles' sax. More undeniably energetic than when they were at Johnny Brenda's last year.
They were followed immediately by Saul Williams (above), the spoken word poet whose The Rise And Fall Of Niggy Tardust, produced by Trent Reznor, beat Radiohead to the give-it-away fro free Internet pirce model last year. Williams flubbed his own lyrics more than once - "I equate f****ing up in public with honesty," he joked - and commanded with genre upending authority. "N***** is a horrible word," he said in reference to his album title. "But Niggy is cute. "What I'm trying to do is deal with all this hate, but through creativeity, not sweeping it under the rug."
Tried to start my evening then, with These New Puritans, the British electro-punk from Southend-on-Sea, England. Line at Antone's to see them and Lightspeed Champion was too long, however. Change of plan. (Here's the video for TNP's "Elvis," however. I'm hoping to get to them at a day party before the fest is out. )
Forced to improvise, moved from there to Bruce Robison, the Austin country singer who's married to Kelly Willis, who, unfortunately, was not hanging around. Moreso than his brother Charlie, Robison's songs are sweetly romantic and earnest. Hus cause is helped enormously when he's got a swinging honky tonk band with him, as he did at the cozy living room like Pangea, in a show that was sponroed by No Depression.net. (Last month, the alt-country magazine went out of business, a casualty of shirking record label ad budget, but they're still publishing online.
From there, on to see possibly the best named band of the festival. (More on them later.) And then on the way across to to R.E.M., heard Tiger! Tiger! calling from the rooftop of The Lite Club. A female fronted swift kicking cowboy booted rockabilly band from Atlanta. Never heard of them. Bears investigation.
Next, rushed over to Stubb's to get there in time for R.E.M., and stumbled upon Nicole Atkins playing in the inside stage. (She's coming to the World Cafe Live on March 25, and I interviewed her today; that story will be in the Inquirer in a week or so.) If you haven't checked out her girl group goes David Lynch lushly pointed pop smarts yet, do so.. That left me only with Dead Confederates, the openers for Stipe and company, who were underwhelming, a more sluggish, far less compelling Kings of Leon knockoff, who didn't earn their drum kit kicking over finale.
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