(Full photoset from this show is here.)

Based on his review of Amanda Palmer’s new record, if Casey Rae-Hunter was at her show at the 9:30 Club this past Tuesday, he might have been initially dismayed to find that Palmer is touring sans drummer. In fact, she is touring sans almost any other musicians at all, save some very occasional help by Lyndon Chester on violin and a single Leonard Cohen cover played with her father, who apparently lives in the Maryland burbs and possesses a deep, crooning voice.

But any worries about her sound being too sparse were quickly and firmly dispatched when Palmer, who is half of the Dresden Dolls and that band’s primary songwriter, began her set by enthusiastically banging out the chords to one of the more aggro songs on her solo album, “Astronaut.” I didn’t miss the nonexistent accompaniment at all, in fact—Palmer very effectively filled the 9:30 Club with just her keyboard and her booming, husky vocals. What accompaniment she did have was purely visual: an quartet of Australian dancers known as the Danger Ensemble, who did everything from act out certain lyrics in Palmer’s songs to bounce around crazily during “Coin-Operated Boy” to hold up umbrellas and pour champagne over them during a lip-synched “cover” of Rihanna’s “Umbrella.” (No, seriously.)

Unfortunately, because this was an early show at the 9:30 Club, the set had to wrap up by 9:00 to allow the crew to change the stage over the the late show (Eagles of Death Metal). Palmer was forced to omit some of the songs from her setlist, and judging from reports from earlier shows, D.C. missed out on some pretty fun gimmicks and covers. If anyone was expecting a replay of her topless rave outro in Asheville, they left disappointed. But they were probably the only disappointed ones in the whole crowd, lost in the collective euphoria that the best shows can elicit from all in attendance.

A show like this that leans towards performance art is naturally a treat for a photographer, so do check out some more of the visual evidence.

I happen to think Calexico’s latest album, Carried to Dust, might just be their best album yet, a bit of a surprise after two relatively disappointing releases. So it was with some eagerness that I went to their show last Thursday at the 9:30 Club, and the show met my expectations. Calexico’s setlists vary pretty widely from show to show, but on this tour they seem to be consistently mixing in a decent amount of old material with a heaping helping of songs from Carried to Dust. Last night followed the trend; the new songs sounded almost uniformly great, although a particular highlight was a version of “Fractured Air” that was the set closer, and was substantially rocked up to better fit that role.

Other high points? “Minas de Cobre,” which opened up the encore. The whistling on “El Gatillo,” for which the crowd went wild. The version of “Güero Canelo” into which the band inserted a sizable chunk of Manu Chao’s Desaparecido (this was hands down my favorite moment of the night). Joey Burn’s acoustic guitar, subtly adorned with an “I Voted” sticker.

There were some songs I wish I could have heard (”Slowness,” “In the Reins,” some older stuff), but after the rousing encore not even the folks chatting loudly over the music right behind me all night could ruin the show’s good vibes.

More photos? Sure, why not.

Baltimore cult legend Dan Deacon put on an explosive set Friday night at Hirshhorn After Hours. Aside from the thunderous synth- and midi-based experimental dance music, Deacon’s set included a crowd run around the Hirshhorn quarters, a gesture that wasn’t well received by many in the Hirshhorn martini-drinking crowd, a dance contest, and lots of inevitable sweaty moving and dancing from the hundreds of enthusiastic fist-thumping Deacon fans.

More photos after the jump:

Read the rest of this entry »

“Disgusting” is not normally a word used to describe a concert, but Watain’s show at Jaxx on Halloween night was, well, disgusting. The Swedish black metal band turned the Jaxx stage into a kind of Satanic shrine, with imposing banners, candelabras on which rotting animal skulls were impaled on stakes, a mic stand decorated with dead rodents, and a pair of massive inverted crosses flanking the drum kit. This was not a place for the easily offended, or those with sensitive noses—as it turns out, rotting flesh smells bad. Very very bad.

Watain mostly played stuff from their 2007 release, Sworn to the Dark, which generated massive acclaim in metal circles as one of the best “troo” black metal albums in recent memory. To be honest, I was never really all that taken by this album, but when performed live and accompanied by all the visual blasphemy and the band’s unbelievable stench, the songs seemed to be multiplied tenfold in power. I’ve never seen a comparable show, where a band’s stage presence had such a direct impact on the potency of their music.

While Jaxx (and, presumably, public health laws) prevented Watain from unleashing a Gwar-like rain of blood on the audience, the four band members soaked themselves in the stuff before taking the stage. And unlike Gwar, Watain use the real thing—no colored water here, this is pig blood straight from the butcher shop we’re talking about. Did I mention they smelled bad? It all added up to a ridiculously intense front-row experience.

There are those that belittle black metal bands like Watain for putting image ahead of music. I don’t really care how much time and effort a band puts into their image, as long as the music doesn’t suffer; and Watain’s music didn’t suffer. In fact, music and image fed off of one another, and off of the fact that it was Halloween on a Friday night, and it all came together for a supremely creepy experience. And I’m happy to report that, three days later, I no longer smell like rotting meat.

Full photo set here.

I submit the above photo as evidence. Yes, even the Dalai Lama can be a little… unsettling… sometimes.

Though “creepy” was not the word I had in mind when I discovered that my friends’ small, mildly alcoholic drinks cost them $10 apiece.

Photo was taken during a thoroughly enjoyable performance by Silver Spring-based singer/songwriter Sarah Fridrich last night; some far less creepy photos are here. The highlight of the evening for me was an inventive cover of Miles Davis‘ “So What.” “All Blues.” (Full disclosure: Sarah is my housemate’s ex-housemate, so I may or may not be fair and balanced.)

Last week, Amon Amarth wrapped up their 2008 United States tour at Jaxx. The Swedish band churns out, with remarkable consistency and in simple verse-chorus format, “catchy, groovy death metal with stupid lyrics about foightin’” (in the words of an acquaintance). The entire band concept revolves around Viking mythology, as evidenced in the ridiculous new video for the title track to their 2008 album, Twilight of the Thunder God.

At Jaxx, they played in front of a massive backdrop depicting Thor locked in mortal combat with a giant serpent, one hand grasping the creature by its tongue, the other wielding a hammer, drawn back and ready to strike. The imagery extends to Amon Amarth’s lyrics, which are filled with rape-and-pillage themes; yet onstage, the band cultivates a very different vibe: these are some fun-loving dudes.

Imposing frontman Johan Hegg boasts a throaty growl and scowls as he sings, but in between roaring lyrics about death and destruction he was quick to smile, clearly enjoying the sight of 500 diehard fans moshing away inside the tight confines of a sold-out Jaxx. Toasting the crowd on multiple occasions as he sipped beer from a Viking drinking horn, he was polite as could be in thanking the fans and the other bands for a successful tour.

And then he led the crowd in belting out the impossibly catchy chorus to “Pursuit of Vikings,” the band’s closing number:

Odin! Guide our ships
Our axes, spears and swords
Guide us through storms that whip
And into brutal war

More photos here (pic immediately above is of openers The Absence).

Of all the shows I’ve seen this year, I’d rank Broken Social Scene at the State Theatre in Falls Church as one of the least likely ones for crowdsurfing. But yet there he was, in the middle of one of BSS’s benign, lushly orchestrated indie-pop songs, bouncing around on a sea of hands and earning the mostly impotent ire of the venue security staff.

I found this rather disconcerting. Seriously? Crowdsurfing at a Broken Social Scene show? (Of course, this being my first BSS show despite hopping briefly on the You Forgot It In People bandwagon half a decade ago, it’s possible that I’m just being ignorant.)

In any case, audience antics aside—and the front row was more what I expected, with wide-eyed early-20-somethings both male and female singing along to every word—BSS delivered a very good set. Because the band’s members are involved in somewhere between 400 and 500 spinoff groups, solo projects and so on (exaggeration, but only slightly), they certainly have a diverse array of material to draw from in addition to the actual BSS records. The crowd did seem to reserve its most enthusiastic responses for many of the You Forgot It In People cuts, but one quirky highlight was Do Make Say Think’s Charles Spearin playing a tape of his neighbor speaking about happiness and love, and Leon Kingstone precisely emulating the pitches and cadence of her speech with his saxophone. (I seem to recall this sneaking in some form into one of the shows DMST played at the Black Cat last year.)

The show was standing-room-only (aside from the theater-style seating in the balcony), unusual for the State Theatre, and completely sold out. A few more photos here, including some of opener Land of Talk.

Power metal is not really my bag—I generally prefer my metal darker, heavier, sludgier, etc etc. But I wasn’t about to turn down the opportunity to photograph Florida’s Kamelot, one of the most polished power metal bands on the scene, last Thursday. They’re known for incendiary live shows and the set they played to a sold-out, enthusiastic, and very young audience at Jaxx lived up to that reputation. I should stress the enthusiastic part—the frontman for openers Edguy, after soliciting audience participation and receiving much more of it than he’d apparently expected, commented, “wow, you guys are fucking insane tonight.”

The enthusiasm was well-deserved, though; Edguy and Kamelot were both absolutely top-notch, professional entertainers, getting the crowd involved, galloping freely around Jaxx’s small stage, mugging for cameras (uh, see above), getting up close and personal with the folks in the front row, including three French fans who seem to be following Kamelot around to every show on this current U.S. tour. And their music came off as much heavier and more energetic in a live setting, much to my pleasant surprise. It was impossible not to admire how in their element Kamelot seemed up there, putting on a show for 550 people—although I suppose that shouldn’t be surprising considering they regularly perform for thousands in Europe.

Kamelot’s was a high-production-value set all around, with fancy lights, dramatic fog, a few cinematic interludes, and great energy from the band (including one bit in which vocalist Roy Khan stepped off the stage to sing a song from atop one of Jaxx’s bars). Impressive showing given they didn’t make it to the venue until 7 p.m.—eight hours late—due to a bus breakdown.

I probably still won’t really listen to Kamelot on record, but count me in if and when they make it back to the area for another live show.

Lots more photos here.

“As you might know, I’m a debut artist,” said Sweden’s latest indie-pop export Lykke Li. “I only have ten songs.”

But those ten songs (plus a few covers) were more than enough to make a sold-out crowd at the Black Cat happy last night, although there was a definite sense after the hour-long set that fans wanted more. It was hard not to be charmed by Li’s performance, between her memorable tunes and rather uniquely spastic dance moves.

Seeing as how the crowd was a hip, blogger-friendly set, I’m sure you’ll be able to find a slew of words written on this show in the very near future, so I’ll just leave off with the photos.

Full photoset here.

Tribute bands are a funny thing. With no attempt at originality expected, they are free to hone their craft by aping, as closely as possible, the band from which they draw inspiration. By this standard, The Australian Pink Floyd Show (hereafter “Aussie Floyd”) are a top-notch act, nailing all the important stuff for Pink Floyd fans: the visuals, the spacy keyboards, that singular guitar tone. The only place they miss the mark slightly is in the vocals: their vocalist singing Roger Waters’ parts doesn’t quite have that same nasal, silghtly maniacal tone.

Aussie Floyd played the Warner Theatre on Sunday night, complete with elaborate stage show, lasers, backing dancers/vocalists… the works. They played The Wall in its entirety and then a lengthy “greatest hits” encore. I used to be an embarrassingly dedicated Pink Floyd fanboy, but The Wall has never been my favorite of theirs. (When Aussie Floyd played last year at the Strathmore, my favorite part was when they broke out “Set the Controls For the Heart of the Sun.”) Still, it was hard not to be engaged by this kind of theatrical performance, especially for someone like me more used to small shows at grungy clubs.

Sure enough, the audience—my completely unscientific sampling of the die-hards in the front row indicated a mix of fans who have seen “the real thing” multiple times and younger types who just missed Pink Floyd’s last tour in 1994—ate it up. “Comfortably Numb,” with a guitar solo worthy of those that David Gilmour used to rattle off regularly, earned a raucous standing ovation. “Run Like Hell,” accompanied by a seizure-inducing barrage of lasers and strobes, induced an epidemic of testosterone-filled fist-pumping. But perhaps most poignantly, the encore included a moving rendition of “Shine On You Crazy Diamond,” which seemed especially appropriate given the recent passing of Floyd keyboardist Richard Wright.

More photos at Flickr.