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| Photo By Mark Lawrence IV |
Last night I experienced my first underground hip hop show and I was fairly surprised by its similarities to your typical rock show. Like most shows the bands started late, the opening acts where equally amazing or mediocre, the mood of the show could have been managed to a more consistent effect by line up choices, and like most shows in Portland, the audience was fickle. Overall though, I had a blast and discovered that for me hip hop is a bit like baseball in the sense that as a recorded media I can take it or leave it but live it’s a uniquely different and captivating beast.
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| Photo By Mark Lawrence IV |
First to the stage was Tawk Sicc, and though he had some decent beats I wasn’t overly impressed with his performance or energy. Even though it was a short set, he only performed what seemed like a total of 3 songs, spending the rest of his time shouting out the address to his twitter feed and website. Of the few songs he performed I felt all but one lacked any substance relying instead to on self boastful songs about parties with strippers and smoking weed. I know that might be what most main market rap consists of but that’s why it’s deemed soulless and immature. Unfortunately, his final song “Fallen Princess,” was the one that revealed the most of what Tawk Sicc could be. Though yet again about stripper it had the humanistic approach that reminded me of Biz Markie classic “She’s Not Just Another Woman (Monique).” Ultimately, I would have liked to have heard more of these kind of songs, and the truth be told you can tell me your web address a hundred times over but if you don’t blow me away with your music I won’t care enough to check it out.
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| Photo By Mark Lawrence IV |
Thankfully the hosting MC, Evert Washington’s, Ripynt must have sense the lack luster mood of the audience, because he rushed the stage and burst into his own little set. The high energy rhymes that assaulted us in the audience were like a cardiac thump direct to the center of our chests. Whimsical and yet honest the rapid fire delivery of his lines was like a pack of black cat fireworks thrown into a kennel of sleeping dogs. It rejuvenated the crowd, drawing them to the stage like moths happy for the warmth of the flames. Thank God for his quick actions. For without them I fear that we as an audience would not have been prepared for the aggressive assault that would follow in the form of Bad Habitat.
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| Photo By Mark Lawrence IV |
Recently I’ve been following Bad Habitat but until this show I hadn’t gotten the chance to see them perform. What a shame, because this band is amazing. A true show stopper, their three-front attack is unrelenting and was the perfect continuation to the building energy of Ripynt’s impromptu set. Driving with an unequaled momentum this band controlled the stage and had the house enthralled. To the fairness of the other bands on the bill they mostly had one poet to their credit while Bad Habitat had three master word smiths at the ready. Some might call that unfair, I just call it brilliant. Add to that the surgical precision of DJ Kut Throat on the turntables and no wonder it seemed like the band had the most numerous following of the night. If you haven’t checked out this band do yourself a favor and pop over to their website or better yet catch their next show with Pharohe Monch at the Hawthorne Theater on June 10th.
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| Photo By Mark Lawrence IV |
As the show came to its midpoint Quiz Zilla took the stage. Clearly the favorite of ladies in the crowd, Quiz Zilla had the most polished persona of the acts. With a more mainstream than underground feel he certainly played the part of what most might picture as a typical rapper. Musically he was astute, energetic and could play the audience well. I could easily see that of all the bands that preformed Quiz Zilla has the pretence and luck to break into the mainstream market.
Following Quiz Zilla was the most accomplished act of the night, IAME of Portland’s Sandpeople. Tightly polished beats and powerful lines IAME’s set had a bit more mellow tempo and unfortunately due to its place on the bill the crowd was already waning. The music was wonderfully sound and the set performed with professional excellence but the audience was growing impatient for Saint Warhead to take the stage and didn’t give the set the focus that it deserved. I certainly look forward to catching IAME another time where I might see his skill shine a little brighter.
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| Photo By Mark Lawrence IV |
Finally, the time came for Saint Warhead to take the stage and the crowd swelled appropriately. Of all the acts to take the play, Saint Warhead was the most stylistically eclectic, strutting a punk rock aesthetic that was more than just the mohawk. Incorporating live instrumentation, sung vocals and the feats of acrobatic amazement by Soren High this performance was elementally unique and delivered with an energy that rolled over the audience pulling them into the revelry. Highlighting the new album for which we had come to celebrate, proved it was one to take home at all cost.
Overall, what little speed bumps the night had to overcome did not diminish the pure greatness of my first underground hip hop show. If this night is of any indication, Portland’s grassroots hip hop scene might be the most vibrant musical genera presently cultivating in the northwest. So get out of your comfort zone and check out a show or two. If you need some recommendations check out some of the bands I mentioned. You won’t be disappointed.
Last Night’s show at Katie O’Brien’s is a bit of a blur as I roll into work at 5:45 this morning. I’m pretty sure there was a wookiee there, maybe even a slave girl. But to be honest, in my current state of sleep deprivation the only thing I am certain of, is that the music was phenomenal. 
Opening the night was the speed and aggression of the Vacillators. A little like angry sex this band’s set was fast, raw and mind blowing fun. Boldly gritty Camille leads this band with a street wise playfulness that’s both refreshing and seductive. Punching through their set with unrelenting focus her band mate were unstoppable work horses. Kids, this is what punk looks like beyond adolescent angst and man is it beautiful. Tempered and honed, the power of this band was undeniable. To all you youngsters out there, you can only hope that your band will grow up to be this good. 
Playing next was the always awesome Pitchfork Motorway and if the Vacillators’ set was like going 65 in a 35 then watching these boys was like one of those car chases you see on CNN. As always the boys attacked their songs with a wild abandon without regards to the innocent bystanders in the audience and as one of them I can’t tell you how great that is. Dangerously fun you feel like the worlds going to hop the track at any second and at these speeds who knows what crazy damage might be done. This band knows how to play a boldly tight rock n roll that’s amazing to behold. The two guitar attack of Barry and Shiggy is bold and diverse while the rhythm section of Doug and The Swede impishly play like madmen with explosives. Hands down this band plays faster, harder and with a true grasp of punk rocks emotional fury. 
Finally, the Thundering Asteroids! took the mic and went to town. What they lacked in speed they make up in fun. Always to bell of the ball this band played their nerdcore tunes with a playful joy that is highly intoxicating to an audience. Celebrating the addition of their latest drummer (a resource they seem to burn through faster than quarter in an arcade) this band had an amazing set. Playing all the favorites and a few new tracks, the band got us singing along and pumping our fists to all the nostalgia inducing pop references in punk form. Clearly one of my own personal favorite bands currently playing Portland, I was not disappointed. Wild, fun and able to make you feel that all that useless pop knowledge crammed in your head isn’t worthless; I hope this drummer sticks around a while so we can get a few more great shows out of this band this summer. 
First on stage was the Eidolons, and from the first notes I could tell they’d be the jangly hipster depression rock synonymous with Portland. Never pushing beyond the veil where true emotions seethes and cries out with a primal force, their music did nothing for me. For goodness sakes the singer never went above a mic chomping drone. The few times the band did get after a song they’d change tempo half way through and lose all momentum. All I can say is that they had some fairly nice equipment. So my suggestions to the band is go out and get your heart good and busted, drink some whiskey, get angry and take one of those really nice guitars and learn to play the hell out of it. 
So lessons learned, The Palma Violets are with out equal and I’ll trust in rock n roll omens and search for them diligently is the static rich airways of my radio.
Starting off the night was the blue coller rock of Portland's Truckstop Darlin'. I love the work ethic of this band. There was no messing around. Using every second of their 45 minute slot John Phelan and the boys played every song they could fit. This is how every opening band should be. Plowing through their set list with a systematic focus Truckstop Darlin' is sure to have please their fans and won some new ones. A perfect introduction into the night, there salt-of-the-earth set lead wonderfully into the aggressively raw performance of fellow Portland favorites I Can Lick Any Sonofabitch In The House. 
The boldly aggressive rock'n'Roll of Micheal Dean Dameron and the irreplaceable crew of SOB is some of the best damn music you will ever hear and this goes twice as true live at Dante's where they hold home court advantage. Last night was a particularly amazing show even as short as an opening slot in a four band line-up. A perfect balance of the flesh pounding force and heartbreaking vulnerability that is SOB at its best, Dameron's gravel raw vocals seemed more poignant than ever. The band was also in rare form, as though re-energized from a long hiatus and chomping at the bit. The concussive rhythm of Flapjack Texas's no nonsense drumming and the punctuating precision of Mole Harris's bass poured from the stage with a true physical presence. While the playful guitar flairs of Jon Burbank and harp mastery of David Lipkind gave even familiar songs new life. As the minutes clicked away I have to admit that I felt a little cheated. I could listen to these guys all night but thankfully the best was yet to come.
And what a performance it was. Bounding across the stage with uncanny punk rock dexterity Shane Sweeney and Micah Schnabel flew about like balls of rock'n'roll fury. It's been a long time since I've seen a performance this unyieldingly powerful. Fueled with an energy formulated from one part small town frustration, one part artistic hunger and a good helping of pure joy to be on a stage in front of a crowd that loved them; there was no stopping these boys. Driving through one song to the next, the crowd howling along the red hewed walls of Dante's never felt this familiar. Near Primal, Two Cow Garage gave there all and we loved every moment of it.
Last night I was reminded that part of the joy of live music is the total experience of it; the who's, the what and the hows of it all. A lot of times I review shows alone, tucked into the crowd just a guy with a camera and a little black book jotting down notes. If I'm lucky though, sometimes I get to share the experience. In the case of Katie Herzig at the Aladdin Theater my wife and, even more special, my 11 year old daughter. It was neat to experience the show through her eyes. I thought she'd explode when after finding out that we weren't stuck in the balcony, were able to find three seats in the second row. I have to say that a certain joy washed over me at her entranced expression as the house lights dimmed and Andrew Bell took the stage for his opening set. 
Cheerfully playful with the audience, Andrew Bell had a wonderful performance demeanor. Like a mainland Jack Johnson; but instead of a tropical paradise, Bell's sound was clearly cultivated in a more realistic setting Filled with songs that though lyrically sad still express a very comfortable feel. His set started off the night perfectly. Bell's voice washing over the audience in soft waves, his lyrics mingling with our thoughts as all good stories do. Both solo and backed by members of Kaite Herzig's band,(Jordan Hamlin; guitar, Billy Brimblecom; drums, and Greg Lafollette; bass) . Andrew Bell's opening performance was awesomely executed leaving those of us unfamiliar with him pleasantly impressed.
In perfect Portland fashion the theater filled in significantly during the intermission, providing a fairly good showing for a Sunday night. A testament to the ground work Katie Herzig has laid in her fairly frequent visits to our city. More accustomed to the Doug Fir Lounge, the acoustics of the Aladdin Theater wonderfully embraced her music like an old friend. Aladdin is an odd venue at times so, it's a wonderful treat when an artists sound fits it perfectly.
Once the initial burst subsided Herzig settled into a consistently relaxed pace that mixed a showing of her songs from the better part of her last two albums. From the soft ache of "I Hurt Too" to the playful energy of the crowd Favorite "Hey Na Na." the set list highlighted the multiple layers of Herzig's music and the amazing skills of the musicians she surrounds herself with. Jordan Hamlin in particular, who during the stent of their set played the better half of a music store. Not to be over looked, each of the band members displayed multiple instrumental skills which allowed for a uniquely flexible and polished performance. In addition to their remarkable skill, it was apparent that this group of people truly enjoyed each others company. Their genuine comradery was apparent in their on stage comfort and playfulness. From the Erythmics/White Stripes cover smash up, an impromptu rap from bassist Greg Lafollette, to Hamlin's NAMM worthy demonstration of her newest effects petal the play of the band showed that in addition to amazing musician these indiviules were wonderfully human as well. 
Last night was just one of those nights. I was tired, parking sucked and I couldn't get my camera to work. It's one of those night's when I wonder to myself why I keep doing this shit. But sitting there in the basement of The Blue Monk, I remembered that in the end the only reason I do any of this is for the music. There might not be fame or fortune at the end of the night but it doesn't matter when you get the chance to see a show this good.
a raw emotional well from which he seems to draw even deeper when it's just him and a guitar on stage. It's a treat to see that an artist like Summers has more than one facet. With My Life currently on hiatus, I look forward to seeing more of Summers solo work. I feel he is developing into an awesome song writer and was a perfect choice to warm up the crowd and set the mood for the night.
way through the first song he forgot the lyrics and so in perfect Damron fashion he said "F**k It!" and launched right into the next song on the set list. I sure as hell hope they keep that for the record.
