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Tag: david grubbs guitar

Acoustic Guitarslinger R.D. King Brings His Richly Intertwining, Melodic Instrumentals to NYC

First there was B.B. Then there was Albert, then Freddie. And now there’s R.D., the latest in a line of first-class guitar-playing Kings. Difference is that R.D. King plays acoustic, and that his style is not blues but his own intricate, meticulous instrumental material that could be called pastoral psychedelia or cinematic folk. Either way, it’s a hell of a lot more energetic and epic than most music for the acoustic guitar.

King is bound to get comparisons to a whole slew of fingerstyle players who use unorthodox or open tunings – John Renbourn, Bert Jansch, Adrian Legg, Leo Kottke and John Fahey are all in the mix – but if there’s any current-day artist he brings to mind, it’s David Grubbs, who’s more of a Strat guy. This particular King’s album RD King vs. Self  is streaming at Soundcloud, and for anybody who wants to see his fingers fly up and down the fretboard, he’s playing the small room at the Rockwood on August 19 at 6 PM. Then the following night he’s at Pine Box Rock Shop at 9:30.

His technique is spectacular, employing all kinds of harmonics, hammer-ons, pull-offs, flurrying upper-register clusters and contrastingly terse, precise basslines – and as many notes as this guy plays, he doesn’t waste them. The album’s first track is Lightness of Being, set to a rapidfire triplet rhythm. With its web of overdubs and subtly shifting center, it’s as if Fahey and Renbourn conspired to write their own Twin Peaks theme, but closer to waterfalling folk than noir cinematics. The Precipice is a stormy blend of flamenco and a 60s hotrod theme, while the pensive, propulsively waltzing, attractively summery title track hints at acoustic Pink Floyd, 60s American folk and Scottish highland balladry.

Heartstring, a gorgeously wistful song without words, brings to mind what Richard Thompson could do turbocharging a sad Jimmy Webb ballad. There Are No Young Forests comes across as a verdant, enigmatic counterpart to Grubbs’ vast electric deep-space tableaux. The uneasy Vertigo continues on a long, subtly crescendoing tangent, sparkling with harmonics, followed by the tight, emphatic variations of Luminescence.

The album winds up with the tidally shifting vamps of Twilight, rising to a bristling peak, and then the sparkly, cascading An End to Wandering. If you play guitar and feel stuck in a rut, listening to this guy will get you unstuck in a hurry.

The Top Thirty New York City Concerts of 2016

An informed snapshot of some of the most amazing performances across the five boroughs from a year that started out with some promise and ended with the whole world on edge and dreading the worst. Of all this blog’s year-end lists, including the 50 Best Albums and 100 Best Songs of 2016, this one’s the most fun to put together. And the most most individualistic: everybody’s got their own favorite concert moments. While it wouldn’t be hard to think of a hundred from the past year that deserve mention, that would be overkill. It all comes down to triage: apologies to the dozens of artists who played transcendent shows in this city in 2016 who aren’t represented here because of space constraints. Next year, dudes!

Concerts are listed chronologically; the very first one could be the best of the bunch.

Karla Rose at 11th St. Bar, 1/6/16
With her allusive lyrics, her silken voice and enigmatic stage presence, Karla Rose personifies noir. In 2016, out in front of her psychedelic, darkly cinematic twin-guitar band Karla Rose & the Thorns, she played Webster Hall, opened for first-wave punk legends the Dickies and the king of powerpop, Paul Collins. But her most intriguing show of all might have been this low-key trio set with World Inferno bassist Sandra Malak and pianist Frank LoCrasto, unveiling several new, mysterious numbers.

The 35th Anniversary of BC Studios, 1/15-16/16
Producer/guitarist/art-rocker/professional antagonist Martin Bisi booked a global cast of talent to perform and record a long timeline to commemorate his legendary Gowanus space, which might not last much longer if it isn’t landmarked. Highlights of the marathon weekend included slinky jazz punks Barbez, goth legend JG Thirlwell, haunting Middle Eastern noir singer and bandleader Ajda the Turkish Queen, a historic reunion of legendary 80s noiserock band Live Skull – who, back in the day, were better than Sonic Youth – and Bisi himself.

Gato Loco at Joe’s Pub, 1/29/16
The mighty psycho mambo band ambushed the audience with a battalion of baritone sax snipers throughout the space to bolster their explosive, darkly majestic reinventions of themes from the Verdi Reqiuem

Greg Squared’s Circle at Barbes, 3/6/16
The pyrotechnic multi-reedman and co-leader of Raya Brass Band – who’ve made frequent appearances on this page over the last few years – brought a bunch of A-list Brooklyn Balkan talent to work out about two hours’ worth of epically explosive new original pieces

Big Lazy and Mercury Radio Theater at Barbes, 4/1/16
The cinematic noir legends continue their monthly Friday night residency at Brooklyn’s best music venue; pound for pound, this twinbill, with the ferocious Philadelphia circus punk band, was probably the best of the bunch. Big Lazy’s best gig without a supporting act was probably this past May at the Lively, a great little Meatpacking District basement bar that lasted only a few weeks.

Kinan Azmeh and Erdem Helvacioglu at Spectrum, 4/9/16
Syrian clarinetist and Turkish guitarist join forces for a smoky, sinisterly ambient depiction of the horrors of war. Keep your eyes out for a forthcoming album of this material.

The Bright Smoke at Mercury Lounge, 4/14/16
Mia Wilson’s harrowingly intense art-rock band took their dynamic, explosively crescendoing live show to the next level at this one: it wouldn’t be overhype to say that they’re the closest thing to Joy Division that New York’s ever produced.

Greek Judas and Choban Elektrik at Barbes, 4/28/16
Greek Judas play careening psychedelic metal versions of classic hash-smoking and gangster music from Greece and Cyprus in the 20s and 30s. Choban Elektrik do the same with themes from across the Balkans, with organ and violin out front instead of screaming guitars. A real wild night, sort of like seeing the Doors and Iron Maiden on the same bill somewhere in the Aegean.

Ambrosia Parsley, Chris Maxwell and Holly Miranda at Hell Phone, 5/5/16
Short sets from the goth-tinged songbird and then the Arkansas gothic songwriter, followed by a raptly intense set from the cult favorite noir Americana singer, who showed off her chops on bothTelecaster and piano.

The Satoko Fujii Orchestra New York at I-Beam, 5/17/16
The room was so packed it was impossible to get inside, after the start of the great jazz pianist/composer/conductor’s shattering, angst-drenched suite reflecting horror and terror in the wake of the Fukushima nuclear meltdown on March 11, 2001. Watch out for the forthcoming album.

Eden Lane at Caffe Vivaldi, 5/29/16
Velvet-voiced jazz chanteuse Stephanie Layton channeled a century’s worth of existential angst and longing in front of her tightly swinging band, with a set packed with obscure treats from across the ages, including a vivid detour into the Erik Frandsen songbook.

Goddess, Ember Schrag and David Grubbs at a private party in Brooklyn, 6/3/16
Unsettlingly theatrical psychedelia, opaquely venomous Shakespeare-influenced Great Plains gothic songs and vast, deep-space guitarscapes to wind up one of the funnest nights of the year.

Lorraine Leckie at Pangea, 6/8/16
Backed by a tight, stripped-down version of her incendiary band the Demons, the eclectic songstress treated an intimate audience to everything from noir cabaret  to surrealistic art-rock. Her full-throttle Bowery Ballroom gig in November might have been even better.

 Attack and Tipsy Oxcart at Barbes, 7/5/16
Violinist Marandi Hostetter’s slinky, classic Levantine bellydance group made a great opener for the boombastic Balkan/Middle Eastern dance jamband.

Mariachi Flor De Toloache and Patti Smith at Lincoln Center Out of Doors, 7/20/16
The all-female Mexican-American folk ensemble mesmerized the crowd with a plaintive set that ranged from mariachi, to rancheras, to some sly psychedelic rock. Then the queen of dark downtown New York art-rock and her band scorched through a characteristically fearless, defiantly populist, epic set of classic anthems and poignant newer material.

Robin Aigner and Kotorino at Barbes, 7/21/16
Brooklyn’s most deviously lyrical, torchy historical songwriter/chanteuse and her excellent, swinging Americana band followed by the darkly intense, phantasmagorical circus rock/art-rock/mambo crew

The Sway Machinery and Hydra at Joe’s Pub, 8/4/16
The debut of the ongoing collaboration between the psychedelic cantorial rock jamband and singer/composer Sarah Small’s lustrous, haunting Middle Eastern/Balkan trio with Yula Beeri and Rima Fand was every bit as entrancing as it promised to be.

Sandcatchers at Barbes, 8/9/16
Surfy, uneasy, richly psychedelic Middle Eastern jamband with a lapsteel along with guitar. Wow!

Bombay Rickey at Barbes, 8/12/16
Powerhouse singer/accordionist Kamala Sankaram brought her four-octave vocal range and also a sitar to a characteristically serpentine set of psychedelic cumbias, Bollywood, southwestern gothic themes and an electric take of a classic Indian raga.

Dan Penta at Sidewalk, 8/14/16
“Now that’s songwriting,” marveled one listener gathered in the back room of the East Village shithole where the harrowing, surrealistically intense frontman of great, obscure New York bands like Jagged Leaves, the Larval Organs and Hearth played a relatively rare solo set of relentlessly doomed anthems and dirges.

The Chiara String Quartet play Bartok from memory at National Sawdust, 8/30/16
The group’s new double-disc set of the complete Bartok quartets has a bristling, conversational quality, echoed by this performance of the sullen Quartet No. 1 and the chilling Quartets Nos. 3 and 5

Ben Holmes and Patrick Farrell at Barbes, 9/3/16
The hauntingly tuneful trumpeter and his longtime Yiddish Art Trio bandmate, pyrotechnic accordionist Farrell, played their creepy, carnivalesque new Conqueror Worm Suite, based on the Edgar Allen Poe poem.

Ensemble Fanaa at Rye Bar, 9/7/16
Otherworldly, microtonal tenor saxophonist Daro Behroozi’s eerily trippy gnawa-jazz trio with bassist/gimbri player John Murchison and drummer Dan Kirfirst slayed at their debut at Barbes back in July. They were even better in this cozy downstairs South Williamsburg boite.

Anbessa Orchestra at Barbes, 9/9/16
The fiery guitar-and-horn-driven Ethiopian psychedelic funk band put on a pretty ferocious show here back in May. This one was even hotter, sweatier and wilder, with some auspicious new material.

Hearing Things at Barbes, 9/11/16
Another band who slayed at a Barbes show that earned a rave review here, but whose next gig at the Park Slope hotspot was even hotter. Saxophonist Matt Bauder, organist JP Schlegelmilch and drummer Vinnie Sperrazza spun and stomped and slunk their way through a darkly psychedelic mix of surf and go-go originals.

The Allah-Las at Baby’s All Right, 9/17/16
About an hour and a half of lushly catchy three-minute retro psychedelic jangle, clang and twang, fueled by the overtone mist from Pedrum Siadatian’s twelve-string. That the best song of the night was a surf instrumental speaks to the quality of this band’s tunes.

The Attacca String Quartet and Jeff Lynne’s ELO at Radio City, 9/18/16
A bucket-list show. The Attaccas impressed with their ability to hold a sold-out crowd who didn’t seem likely to have any interest in composers like John Adams, but the ensemble kept their attention with a blazing, smartly curated mini-set. Visionary art-rocker Lynne’s band included only one remaining member from the iconic mid-70s lineup, and they played mostly radio hits instead of deep album cuts. But the new, young-ish ensemble was stoked to share the stage with one of the world’s alltime great tunesmiths, and he sang as strongly as he did forty years ago. Not bad for a guy who notoriously hated touring and playing live.

Darcy James Argue’s Secret Society at National Sawdust, 10/2/16
Along with the Satoko Fujii Orchestra New York’s Fukushima suite, this was the most intense show of the year, the composer/conductor stern and enigmatic out in front of his mighty big band as they blustered and lurked through his crushingly relevant new conspiracy theory-inspired suite

Satomi Fukami, Masayo Ishigure and others at Merkin Concert Hall, 10/5/16
A feast of spiky, interwoven Japanese koto sounds. featuring the music of legendary 20th century koto virtuoso and composer Michio Miyagi

LJ Murphy in the East Village, 10/8/16
The charismatic noir blues bandleader was at the top of his game, skewering security state paranoia, smarmy East Village gentrifiers and little Hitlers of all kinds while his explosive three-guitar band the Accomplices careened and roared behind him.

Steve Ulrich and Mamie Minch at Barbes, 10/14/16
The debut live collaboration between this era’s definitive noir film composer and the darkly compelling resonator guitarist/blueswoman, a live score to Windsor McCay’s pioneering early animated film The Flying House, turned out to be even more haunting than expected. Then they played some blues, and some Johnny Cash

Sahba Motallebi at Symphony Space, 10/21/16
This concert never could have been staged in the pyrotechnic tar lute virtuoso’s Teheran hometown, because she’s a woman. Her slashing volleys of tremolo-picking and whirlwind riffage were pure adrenaline. That this was a duo performance with another woman musician, percussionist Naghmeh Farahmand made this a special slap upside the head of Islamofascists everywhere.

The Spectrum Symphony with organists Janos Palur and Balint Karosi at St. Peter’s Church, 11/4/16
Possibly this century’s only New York performance of concertos for organ and orchestra featured a richly textural take of the Poulenc concerto plus the world premiere of Korosi’s menacingly cinematic Second Concerto for Organ, Percussion and Strings plus works by Mendelssohn and Bach. Pound for pound, the most mighty, titanic, epic show probably staged anywhere in this city this year.

In 2015, women artists ruled this list; this year, acts were split evenly along gender lines. Tellingly, even more so than last year, about sixty percent of these shows were either free or a pass-the-bucket situation. Clearly the action in this city, in terms of live music at least, is on the ground floor.

House Concerts in New York: A Rare Trend Worth Following

One of the most redemptive developments in live music in this city over the past year has been the slow but steady trend away from the money-grubbing concert venue model toward artist-supportive house concerts and community-based performances. Three of this year’s best concerts have been staged not with monitors and smoke machines but with barbecue smoke in the background, or hamburger smoke wafting through the courtyard, or amidst a haze of various kinds of smoke (as of this date, it’s still legal to do that in your own apartment).

We’re talking transcendent, all-acoustic performances by Greg Squared and Rima Fand’s haunting Balkan/flamenco/Middle Eastern group Sherita, the similarly haunting Great Plains gothic songwriter Ember Schrag, theatrical art-rock band Goddess, mesmerizingly atmospheric guitarist/composer David Grubbs, astonishingly improvisational resonator guitar/viola duo Zeke Healy and Karen Waltuch and African psychedelic jamband 75 Dollar Bill.

You might not think that a band as wildly popular as 75 Dollar Bill, who played Bowery Ballroom last month, would play a house concert – well, they did. In fact, if you know where they played, there just might be another party there this Saturday night and while 75 Dollar Bill aren’t on the bill, if you know the owners of that space, you can text them and join the party. And if you don’t, you can be the next person to book your favorite band in your space, if you have the room and the beer or whatever it takes.

75 Dollar Bill occupy a place somewhere between the camelwalking desert trance music of Tinariwen, the bubbles of soukous and the uneasy modes of the Middle East. It was interesting to see them actually veer away from chromatics toward microtones when guitarist Che Chen introduced his brand-new guitar, which Brooklyn Lutherie guitar maven Mamie Minch had refretted masterfully for halftones and whatever nuance can be bent away from a string when you’re in between notes to begin with – in the western scale anyway. The jangling, chaming richness, underpinned by Rick Brown’s similarly hypnotic, subtly polyrhythmic drums, held the party faithful rapt.

Opening the night at that party, resonator guitarist Zeke Healy and violist Karen Waltuch distinguished themselves as both the most original oldtime Americana act and jamband in town. On one hand, their country blues had a comfortable familiarity that drifted off into space as each player diverged, with gentlly shapeshifing rhythms and long, nebulous, time-stands-still interludes that had more in common with the Art Ensemble of Chicago, than, say, Laura Marling. What was coolest to watch was how each player complemented each other, Healy’s incisions and rhythm against Waltuch’s resonance and intensity, nobody stepping on each other.no matter how far outside each of them took the melodies. And then they’d reconverge again, bringing three hundred years of string band music full circle.

Zeke and Karen’s next gig is at Bar Lunatico in Bed-Stuy on Dec 13 at 8 PM. 75 Dollar Bill have a weekly Sunday night residency at Union Pool this month, with remaining shows on Dec 11 and 18 at 8 PM; cover is $10.

Darkly Psychedelic Art-Rocker Ember Schrag Opens for a Horror Film Thursday Night in Gowanus

Every summer, Rooftop Films puts on as eclectic and interesting an indie film series as you can find in New York: dramas, documentaries, animation, shorts and student films are just a part of the picture. There’s a creepily enticing screening this Thursday, June 16 on the roof of the old American Can Company buildlng at 232 3rd St in Gowanus; the closest train is the R at Union St. Doors are at 8 PM and haunting, intensely lyrical psychedelic songwriter Ember Schrag plays at 8:30, followed by David Farrier and Dylan Reeve’s creepy suspense thriller Tickled. Cover is $15; there will be beer afterward.

Schrag’s most recent gig was a secret show in Brooklyn earlier this month, a rare stripped-down duo set with guitar polymath Bob Bannister, in the middle of a triplebill that was pure magic. Witchily theatrical art-rockers Goddess opened the night with a gently twinkling pavane, then a spare, summery lullaby, then picked up the pace with an insistently mystical British folk-influenced anthem. Then the band played uneasy washes of ambience while frontwoman Fran Pado – making her stage debut as an instrumentalist on both keys and cuatro – related a spooky story about an evil old suburban New Jesey woman who snatches any and all balls directed, accidentally or otherwise, into her driveway. No spoilers here: suffice it to say that the child narrator of the horror story ends up in the old hag’s basement.

Pado went into her misterioso low register over more atmospherics on the next number as one-string violinist Tamalyn Miller added sepulchral, flitting swoops and dives. The band likes epics and suites, and kept going with a live loop of tradeoffs between Miller’s eerie wafts of sound, multi-instrumentalist Andy Newman’s glimmering minimalist keys, while Bannister – doing double duty this evening – held it down with terse fingerpicking. The latter part of the show drew on plainchant as much as Pat Garrett/Billy the Kid era Dylan, winding up with the bittersweetly optimistic folk-rock anthem Heaven, the title track to the band’s latest album, then a concluding benediction of sorts.

Schrag opened with an uneasily swaying blues, Bannister playing slide and then hitting his pedal for a vintage 60s reverb effect, almost like a repeater box. Schrag’s lyrics are enigmatic, packed with metaphors and allusions to literature, mythology and the Old Testament. All this carefully cached imagery may have been part and parcel of an upbringing amongst Christian zealots that she finally escaped, driving off into the sunset with little more than her collection of samizdat secular cassette tapes. She’s got an absolutely brilliant, Macbeth-themed album in the can, recorded last year, which if released then would have topped the list of the year’s beat albums here. She played several of those numbers, first a low-key take of the allusively venomous Lady M.

The crowd was silent and rapt as the duo jangled and slunk through Like Birds Do, a bouncy tune packed with literary allusions and the kind of muted wrath that pervades much of Schrag’s recent work, which she finally let loose at the end, sailing up to the top of her register. By contrast, The Real Penelope was a bittersweetly Beatlesque, epically psychedelic “love song in disguise,” as she put it: no spoilers here. The highlight of the night might have been Iowa, a starkly direct, hypnotically crescendoing singalong anthem that sort of turns its fire-and-brimstone imagery inside out: the true believers of the Midwest seldom get hit with a storm as mighty as this one.

Guitarist David Grubbs headlined. He’s got a brand-new vinyl album out, and played several numbers from it. He’s one of the most distinctive and individualistic six-string players out there. Solo on Strat, methodically and hypnotically, he made his way through a mostly instrumental set that drew on Indian ragas, film music and Americana as well as 20th century minimalism. The lingeirng, tersely echoing opening instrumental diptych set the tone for the rest of the night, a deep-sky high-plains raga with allusions to both the Beatles and Meddle-era Pink Floyd trailing like comet dust in the distance as a chromatic menace loomed in and finally took centerstage.

Grubbs’ music knows no limits, utilizing the totality of his axe’s sonic range, from the bottom to the very top of the fretboard, often at the same time. How he managed to get so many strange and disquieting harmonies without using an unorthodox tuning was a clinic in thinking outside the box: it’s hard to imagine a guitarist in the crowd not going home afterward, plugging in and trying to figure out what Grubbs was up to.

He built another deep-space tableau out of sparsely echoing variations on a single dramatic blues overture riff, then mashed up Yardbirds-era Jimmy Page with Steve Ulrich noir, no small achievement. From there he sliced and diced an anthemic Britfolk tune spun through the spacerock of the Church or Marty Willson-Piper. His lone vocal number blended catchy folk-rock with tinges of jazz. There’s more tha a little irony in that the best triplebill of 2016 was a private, by-invite-only, quasi house concert. Catch some of this and a promising movie too in Gowanus this Thursday night.