A new week brings a new contributor. Please welcome Daniel Schneier to the team. Dan recently caught two HT favorites and filed this report…

When Catskills natives, Simone, Ian and James Felice left home to a peddle music for pocket change on the New York City subways, they banded with some dicey local musicians and honed their craft hustling cross-town commuters by the thousands. A group of modern day fly-by-night grifters with a taste for big-band style country-rock and electric circus-folk, The Felice Brothers have surfaced from Manhattan’s underbelly to become a bonafide hot-ticket touring act, easily selling out the house at Maxwell’s in Hoboken, NJ on Saturday September 13.

[All Photos By Jennifer Kirk]

Idling in the crowd and chatting with friends before the show, the hometown Felices have a distinctively laid-back-country demeanor, sporting dusty denims and flannels and growing out just about all the facial hair they can muster. The crowd barely takes notice to the equally unassuming musicians in the audience however, as the opening act, singer-songwriter AA Bondy commands the stage.

The Alabama-born Bondy looks road weary with sunken eyes and a scraggly black beard, though his attitude is as upbeat as it is informal, and he laughs and banters with cat-callers in the crowd in between songs. Strapped with acoustic guitar and harmonica, the throaty folk singer hushed the room as he plucked and crooned on original tunes like Witness Blues, while a gutsy rendition of Springsteen’s I’m on Fire had the crowd hollering, up in arms with applause (no small feat in the Boss’ home state). Bondy holds a branch on the Felice Family Tree (married to sister Clare), and he’d later reemerge to collaborate with his in-laws on a number of songs throughout the headlining set.

READ ON for more about the Felice Brothers’ performance at Maxwell’s…

I’m not big on writing reviews of concerts or albums. I’m more of a compile information compare/contrast kind of guy, that’s why I like writing Cover Wars every week. But walking out of The Dodos show last night at the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston made me want to write up a couple of paragraphs on these guys.

The Dodos are a duo from San Francisco consisting of front man guitar player Meric Long and drummer/percussionist Logan Kroeber. Playing with them last night was (I think) percussionist/marimba player Joe Haener. From what I’ve read in interviews, he’s possibly joining the band full-time.

Their new album Visiter is fantastic, I highly recommend listening to some tracks over on MySpace to hear what they’re all about. What didn’t come through on the album but did about five minutes into the live show is what a fantastic finger-picker Long is. As he started the show with impressive guitar work and stomping his foot as the only accompaniment, I was reminded of a favorite artist of mine - Chris Smither. The Dodos also have amazing volume-control: Overall they are a quieter band but have the ability to take it up a notch to rock levels for brief periods of time.

Long’s voice is also dynamic with the ability to belt it out like a tenor but spends the majority of his singing in the baritone register. It also helped that he had two separate vocal mics to sing into to alter the sound output.

The Dodos tour continues tonight in New Hampshire with a handful more US dates to come before heading overseas. I highly recommend checking them out.

The big question before delving into the August release from former HT Blip artist The Reverend Peyton’s Big Damn Band, The Whole Fam Damnily, is if the big sound from the little band would translate in the studio, because Reverend Peyton’s Big Damn Band is built for festivals. The family’s sound of Rev’s big hillbilly bayou gospel singing, wife Breezy’s choo-choo washboard, and brother Jayme’s thumping kick drum are perfectly suited to reel in loopy concertgoers as they meander from stage to stage on a sunny afternoon.

As bands like Flogging Molly and the Gogol Bordello have proven in different genres (both also recorded on Side One Dummy like this record), as long as the shtick is backed with some good chops; it works. Fortunately, Reverend Peyton’s fingerstyle guitar and dobro, often with a slide, packs a punch-per-capita rivaled maybe only by Jack White. Washboard Breezy and Jayme add a Mack Truck rhythm section, but this is really the Reverend’s show. The man is a true one-of-a-kind weirdo and his music will get inside your soul.

The true highlight of the album is not a specific tune, but rather the Reverend’s vocal stylings in general. The man has a deep rooted love for the letter “H,” which provides endless amusement in emulation (i.e., belting it out and annoying your loved ones) as you sing along with lines like, “Them hold dhays hare ghone, hand they hain’t hcoming bhack.” The album demonstrates some crafty jokesmithing as well as evidenced by the hilarious true redneck story, Your Cousin’s On Cops, and the confusion over the source of the ass shaking on, DTs or the Devil. Finally, a couple tracks are musically beautiful, namely Worn Old Shoe and Them Old Days Are Gone. With their goofy names, a high energy sound and comical tunes, it’d be easy for the Big Damn Band to be taken lightly from a critical perspective; but let’s make one thing abundantly clear; the Reverend Peyton’s Big Damn Band ain’t no novelty act. This is a wonderful album.

• Previously on HT: Pullin’ Tubes - Rev Payton and HT Blips - Three Under The Radar Bands

I was all set for a great night of music on Wednesday. Three bands that I have never heard of or seen. Well, not true, really. I had heard of Liam Finn, but never experienced his music. I had done quick Myspace and YouTube searches and came up with a thumbnail synopsis of how he does what he does. With his use of loops and drums and guitar, all in all a pretty unique sound. It made me look forward to his portion of the show.

But first, there were two other bands to open the festivities. I purposely didn’t check either of them out ahead of time. Surprise me, I thought. Give me your best shot, let’s see how you rock and roll.

The venue for tonight was the Doug Fir Lounge. Originally a diner attached to a motel, the Doug Fir underwent a major overhaul a few years ago and became one of the premier smaller halls in Portland. The diner still functions as it was originally designed, and the motel still rents rooms with a unique catch. Obviously knowing their clientèle, the managers turned Room 117 into a retail establishment where guests may purchase any of a myriad of sex toys, videos and the like.

Below the parking lot, on the street level is a tattoo parlor. Upstairs, next to the diner is the cocktail lounge and below that, the concert hall Looking like the inside of a log cabin (Made from, of all things, Douglas fir) the room has a nice feel and great acoustics. The best seats in the house are on the steps, just below the sound booth. Perfect sound and view above the bouncing heads on the floor, plus an easy shot around the corner back to the bar. Nice digs all around and SO Portland.

READ ON for A.J.’s thoughts on the three acts in question…

I appreciate live music for many, many reasons, not the least of which is the uniqueness of the performance. Not that the artist has not performed the material a million times in front of audiences more or less identical to each other. But on any given night, something can occur that hasn’t ever been seen before. The band could pull out a cherished song they usually don’t play live. There may be a cover tune or holiday treat that may not be appropriate elsewhere or at another time. Admit it, the first time you heard Springsteen and The E Streeters giggle their way through Santa Claus is Coming To Town, you wished you had been there that December night in Syracuse.

The audience at Edgefield Manor on Saturday night was treated to just such an event. The surprise this night was the opening act and its interaction with the headliner. John Callahan and his trio, aptly named Callahan began the show shortly after six on a simply perfect early autumn night. John Callahan is well known around Portland and the world as the irreverent underground cartoonist, whose weekly single panel strip often deals with the less than perfect side of life. A quadriplegic since a 1972 accident, the author of such black humored titles as He Won’t Get Far On Foot and Will The Real John Callahan Please Stand Up? is also a singer songwriter with one release to his credit, 2006’s The Liberator.

Callahan’s songs tend toward the darks side, much like his cartoons. Suicide and tears and memories of his Portland girl filled lyrics behind well crafted, almost bluegrass melodies. Jim James came onstage and joined in for a few songs on acoustic guitar and background vocals (the aforementioned uniqueness factor) and the pair harmonized like they were brothers. Callahan commented that one song in particular felt like having feeling in his legs. Live music magic, right there, my friends.

READ ON for A.J.’s thoughts on My Morning Jacket’s set…

“Shitty day, people. It’s been a shitty day.” So spoke Fareed Haque to open the first set from Garaj Mahal at the Fez Ballroom on Thursday. He went on to explain that a certain unnamed airline had lost his six thousand dollar jazz guitar earlier that day. What did he get in return for his six thousand dollar guitar, you might ask? “Three hundred dollars and a phone number,” he said. “That’s all I got from them, and that is what makes it a shitty day!”

Of course, that meant Haque had to play his Moog guitar, the only other guitar he had brought with him. The Moog is a beautiful instrument that doubles as one of the most versatile guitars in the world. In the hands of one of the most versatile guitarists in the land, it seemed a win-win situation. That seemed okay with the rest of the band as well. They proceeded to tear the Fez to pieces and the next few hours flew by.

Garaj Mahal hits the stage with no set list. They play a game of round robin, songs are chosen by each member of the band when it’s their turn. They will call it out or start the song and the rest join in. Everyone in the room sits back and enjoys the vibe. Well, not exactly sitting back. In fact, the dance floor was awash with an audience that truly danced like no one was watching, lost in the jamming excellence in front of them.

READ ON for more of A.J.’s review…

As luck would have it, my buddy Zoomer came up with tickets to the first of two sold out show at The Roseland featuring The Raconteurs.

I had seen them at Bonnaroo this past June. The area in front of the main (What) stage was jam packed all the way to the sound booth; I’d guess at least twenty five thousand strong. This situation was not conducive to getting up close and personal with the band. So, my brother Ed and I chose to sit in the June sunshine, make some new friends and blatantly use The Raconteurs as the soundtrack for that portion of our afternoon. It worked out well because we wound up getting into the pit up front for the next two acts on the main stage that Friday night; Chris Rock and Metallica. We were well rested and ready to rock.

But back to last night. Seeing The Raconteurs in a venue that maxes out at 1,400 was much more about the band than the Bonnaroo experience. Zoomer and I met up on Burnside Street a block from the Roseland. A homeless man from the mission around the corner seemed to be having an argument with the dinner tray he carried as he paced up and down the street. Apparently, the chocolate cake on the tray disagreed with his entree and he was trying to get them to settle down. Making sure the truck was locked, we flipped the guy a five and went into the club. As is my habit, I staked out a spot up front and waited for the show to start.

READ ON for more of AJ’s Raconteurs @ The Roseland review…

As we mentioned last week, we’re really excited to expand our coverage west of the Mississippi. On that end we’ve added Portland-based journalist A.J. Crandall to the Hidden Track Staff. Please join us in welcoming A.J. to the team.

On a half moon lit Friday night in Troutdale, The Black Crowes laid claim to being one of the best rock and roll bands in America. My words, not theirs. Brothers Chris and Rich Robinson have been making music together for most of their lives. The band, throughout its many personnel changes, has been making music since the mid ’80s. How many other American bands can reference an over 20 year history? Oh sure, they disbanded (pretty literal reference word in these circumstances, don’t you think?) from ‘02 till ‘05. They regrouped (literal reference, part II) and toured relentlessly. The brothers Robinson wrote ten of the eleven songs on War Paint in that time. They added Luther Dickinson of The North Mississippi All Stars to the lineup. They buried their much storied differences in the name of group dynamics and generally have their poop all in one pile.

The crowd was primed for the Crowes on this Friday night. Flags, hand painted signs, actual war paint on faces, they were going all out. A fellow next to me, Chris, recently had his Black Crowes tattoo touched up and planned to show it off proudly to the band from the front row. I counted eighteen different Crowe T-shirts from various tours over the years. My own included, a 2005 Bonnaroo tie dye.

READ ON for more of A.J.’s Black Crowes @ McMenamin’s Edgefield review…

Last weekend saw the return of RANA at NYC’s Mercury Lounge. We asked our friend Neddy of of the week to share his thoughts on the first two-set RANA show in nearly two years. Without further ado, take it away Ned…

There’s this band that’s been on a “hiatus” of an undetermined length that you may have heard about. Four guys – guitar, bass, drums and keys – who spent many a night making grown men pee their pants with unabashed, blazing rock and roll. A number of their acolytes – the ones who “got it” – have anxiously been awaiting their return, gazing at the stars, charting the planetary positions and slaughtering lambs at the altar of the music gods. Without warning, the signs started popping up like easy-to-read clues in a M. Night Shyamalan movie… was the rockphecy true? Would they return? Then it appeared: a pimple on the face of the NYC music calendar; a big, fat, glorious zit that you could not ignore and that you could not make go away… August 16th, Mercury Lounge… Ph… er, Rana was back, muthafuckas!!

Well, August 16th has come and gone, let’s go and assess the damage, crime scene investigator style. That’s right, it’s an episode of CSI:LES… we’ve got our victim here, mid-30’s, male, pupils fixed and dilated; the ME lists serious pain in all joints, with especially bad swelling in his fist-pumping shoulder and head-banging neck; his shirt is just back from the lab and shows unnaturally large amounts of whiskey on it, which points to either high concentrations of Jameson in his sweat or an unnatural amount of spillage (most likely the latter, brought on by an illicit mix of drinking and dancing); the vic seems dazed and confused, muttering “It isn’t love, it isn’t life, just rock and roll every night!” over and over, better get someone down here for a psych consult; and finally this toxicology report shows incredibly strong doses of Ranarock in his bloodstream… that explains it! READ ON for more…

How does a band follow up a surprise complete Gamehendge recreation with entirely original narration? They don’t; it’s impossible. Hence, Mr. Blotto did the logical alternative and turned about face and headed to the opposite end of the spectrum. For Blottopia Nine, the band’s festival last month at Chicago’s Vasa Park, the band did not hesitate to pull out all the stops for their rabid and lovable fan base, but this year brought a mellower mood so-to-speak.

[Photo by John F. Muzzupappa]

“Jah Rastafari, Ever Loving, Ever Faithful, Ever Sure, Slicey Eyed Friends”

While the annual Blottopia album cover in entirety doesn’t come out until the end of the second night, I’ll spare you the drama. For Blottopia Nine, Mr. Blotto tipped their hats to the Bob Marley live album, Babylon By Bus. As mentioned, it’s a decidedly softer choice and maybe a tad disappointing, but you gotta give the band credit for taking a crack at a live album. Paul Bolger’s booming, raspy vocals do nothing but justice to the Bob Marley originals and add a distinct sound, but the jams are somewhat confined, relatively speaking. Still the Marley album provide plenty of highlights, particularly in Rastaman Vibration, Punky Reggae Party, Concrete Jungle, and Lively Up Yourself.

For reference, some of the other Blottopia complete album covers include Led Zeppelin II, Some Girls, Terrapin Station, Dark Side of the Moon, and the Doors. They also encored number VII with Phish’s Harry Hood. READ ON for more…