Green River Festival 6/21/25 Franklin County Fairgrounds

 The festival blog is tough, a full days events dotted with portapotty runs, kooky food encounters with a broccoli clad server, present too many moments to accurately describe. I always try,  as a salute to the bands who braved 90 degree weather to show their stuff. The expertly curated GRF presents a wide swath of musicians on the rise. On the rise, or on the wind down, first up is:

Stephen Kellogg on the back porch stage. A regional warbler, Kellogg and his former band the Sixers, were an excellent live act back in the day. Poignant lyrics, armed with just a trucker hat and an acoustic, Stephen still has it. Funny stories about being a dad to a middle schooler, were offset by heartwrenchers about a friend lost to addiction.. Some 30 years ago, Kellogg and Deep Banana Blackout guitarist Fuzz, enlisted a bunch of us to sing Mungo Jerry’s In The Summertime on the side of a ski lodge, remains the high water mark of my career as a singer.

Illuminati Hotties are an LA based punk outfit. Front woman played guitar and sang with bass and drums. Forceful delivery got shouty at times, but the punk energy was legit. They had odd  multi-colored outfits that looked to be pieced together from a Joann’s going out of business sale.

The Altons are another LA group that are described as “soulful blues with a suntan and sweet backyard cumbia tinnitus”. I agree, guy/ girl singing with some horns were great. Throw in a dubby version of William Devaughn’s Be Thankful for What You Got, and the party got started.

Leyla McCalla is a multi instrumentalist born to Haitian emigrants and activists. Her main instrument is the banjo, but is fluent on guitar and cello. An alumnus of the storied Carolina Chocolate Drops, Leyla has built a nice body of work. The activist upbringing is showcased on the signature tune  The Capitalist Blues.

Danielle Ponder gave up her day job as a public defender to dedicate her time to share her soulful funky songs with us. Looking like Chaka Khan, Danielle had no lack of punch in her singing. Powerful tunes about love and loss were expertly delivered.

Reyna Tropical was a clubby duo that showcased Latin dance beats. Two females bounced and synthed through their set. They tried to enlist the crowd, which was difficult given the temp.

Jeremie Albino, no he isn’t Johnny and Edgar’s long lost nephew, but a southern rock tinged crooner from Ontario. Country rock with solid vocals were backed by a tight southern fried band. Saw their warmup where they did a nice close vocal harmony bit.

Kevin Morby is a critics darling singer songwriter. He sang and played guitar, introduced an old friend from Vermont on bass, drums, and an excellent multi-instrumentalist who played saxes, flute, who also sang. Some excellent under the radar hits. Beautiful Strangers, Harlem River, and City Music are indie chestnuts that deserve to be on any Spotify playlist. He wore this banana cream jacket that was cool, but had to be hot. He seemed genuinely impressed by the days lineup. He was a former member of the band Woods, another indie supergroup.

Kathleen Edwards is another Canadian singer songwriter. Her debut, 2003’s Failer, was a flawless collection of well crafted pop-folk nuggets. Insightful lyrics, and a beautiful singing voice, backed by a tight band of session musicians, this set was highly anticipated as evidenced by the packed viewing area. She tastefully poked fun at becoming the 51st state while moving through her set.

LA LOM stands for the LA league of musicians. The league consisted of three muscle-T shirted angelenos. Drums, guitar, and bass spewed instrumental,  dubby,  psychedelic cumbia. All three were excellent at their post, and with no vocal component, still brought the heat. Searing guitar work, muscular bass, and feverish drums had a hypnotic effect. This band sold out Spaceland last week, and I can see why.

Courtney Barnett is a guitar slinging Aussie who snarled through the headline slot. Her accent, coupled with her spoken word delivery, had a punk-prog energy. Some quirky hits early in her career were nice to catch up on. Seems that recently she has been woodshredding. I mean hanging in a woodshed while spitting furious guitar licks. It got a little tiring after the long day, but she is a force. She has collaborated with Kurt Vile, who seems like a kindred spirit.

Props to the Signature Sound people. They are Pioneer Valley’s music cognoscenti and always bring the goods. 

Sun Kil Moon 6/20/25 Spaceland

 Sun Kil Moon is Mark Kozelek, front man for the critically acclaimed 90s outfit Red House Painters. We enter the sold out Ballroom on a steamy June night to view the surly Kozelek.  It was steamier in the room, seems that Mark was bothered by the sound of the club’s AC and had them turn off or down. The songs had a similar arc, intersong banter gave way to some spoken word monologues. Snarky chatter about location, a previous “bad” show in Fairfield, were comical but not endearing. So he’s turned up the heat, mocked a Fairfield fan for dancing ( prev show), packed us in like sardines, and now for the show. I’m not too familiar with his catalog save for the tune about the Death Cab For Cutie singer. The crowd, on the other hand, seemed to cultishly hang on his every word. They knew 30 years of under the radar song titles. He stated that he was “ definitely not” gonna play the Death Cab song. Some tunes I could glean from a Spotify search, Heron Blue, Carry Me Ohio, Dogs, Sunshine in Chicago. His everyday descriptive lyrics had charm. “I Watched the Film The Song Remains the Same” had him describe watching the 70s Led Zep film The Song Remains the Same. It was hard not to get “artist envy” because  I, too have watched that film. He did talk about formative concert experiences, Jesus and The Marychain, Bad Brains ( it didn’t matter how hot it was at a Bad Brains show), and a heartfelt remembrance of Elliot Smith. He said that the spoken word influence came from the Lizard King ( Jim Morrison). He did one tune Wolves, that had some audience participation howling at the top of our lungs which was oddly cathartic in a group setting. Mark has apparently toured the world and spoke this one song story about recording with the band Amoeba in the hills outside Budapest. On a transportationless jaunt, Mark happens upon a young mom and daughter who take him into town for supplies. He speaks of their interaction, an allegory for the kindness of strangers or an autistic diatribe of the days events, not sure. I speak often about uncompromising artists, they often have sketchy viewings dotted with recorded brilliance. This crowd was familiar with the brilliance and seemed willing to take the abuse. 

Matt Wellins 6/11/25 Brundage Library

 They walk among us. Yeah, aliens, but I was thinking more along the lines of circuit bending polymath musicians. Wellins is co-leader of the Strategy of Lakes (SOL) series. The monthly program showcases a regional artist for an hour performance followed by a half hour Q and A. Wellins takes the reins for the June session. I enter the basement with Matt already glitching away. He sat on the small stage with his rig, multiple boxes with no less than 60 patch cords strewn like spaghetti. Metallic bleeps were augmented with static and noise, sometimes shrill, sometimes a robotic heart beat. The crowd of twenty brave souls dug in for the assault. He looked like he was playing a combination of Operation and Battleship. Things were literally humming along when Wellins abruptly stopped. Unhappy with the sound, he tried to blame it on some brownout in the basement. While this library only draws enough juice to power Clifford the Big Red Dog and the occasional microfiche, the crowd was having none of Matt’s bailout. As if any of us knew “how” it was supposed to sound. David, the other co-leader of SOL, explains that stopping short would be breach of contract with the library. It is at this point, that some kid in the audience pulls some kind of transducer from his bag, willing to add it to the cause. Matt’s eyes widened, but then thought some spot welding might be needed. “Open flames have got to be a breach of contract” I chortle from my chair. Matt soldiers on and plays for 40 minutes before sheepishly coming to a stop. He says he has some video and will read a short piece to finish his time. Setting up his computer to project the video on the library wall, we are treated to a hypnotic möbius of abstract images that ebb and swell. The oddly comforting lysergic tangle of ribbon candy was viewed in silence. Matt then turns to his computer to read a short,I’m assuming autobiographical, essay. Tales of fringe festivals, odd performance spaces, were hysterically described by Matt. The essay was dotted with the refrains of being happy, or unhappy, with the sound. He performed in a claw foot bathtub and was “happy with the sound”. A friend tried to record a cucumber and yogurt salad, and he was “unhappy with the sound”. I came to the last SOL installment and I will return when able. These performances are a fascinating view of outsider art.

John Wiese w/ Lana Del Rabies 6/6/25 The Cellar

 The Cellar is the small building in the parking lot of Spaceland. Formerly The Outer Space, The Cellar is a quasi-subterranean den with bar for smaller or weirder events. Tonight’s offering landed in the small and weird categories. Lana Del Rabies is the “uncompromising project of LA based artist Sam An, known for her visceral fusion of industrial, gothic noise, and experimental metal.” LDR had a high console draped in a black lacy wrap. She wore a cropped black tank top and black army pants that exuded a “don’t fuck with me, but I’m kind of hot” Linda Hamilton vibe. Cue visceral fusion as she screamed and growled into the mic while coaxing doomy drones from her rig. She frequently hopped off the small stage and writhed through the crowd on her hands and knees leaving a trail of viscera. Earplugs were essential, and I stayed toward the back for fear of, well, getting Rabies. At one point it seemed that she was yelling “fight!” at some dude’s sneakers. I was amazed that some turns had this music swerving clubby. I think the outer skin of my earplugs changed color from the assault.

John Wiese is an electronic artist also from LA. He has been occupying the noise scene since the 90s. Collaborating with a who’s-who of the genre Wolf Eyes, Merzbow, Kevin Drumm,  C.Spencer Yeh, and Thurston Moore, Wiese has an impressive CV. On this evening, his kit looked like an old timey switchboard. Plugging and removing cables to glitchy effect, Wiese entered a trance while manipulating static and white noise. Sixtyish, with a goofy floral cap, it was hard to believe his travel buddy was a goth queen of the apocalypse. The switchboard had me thinking of Lily Tomlin  and her “one ringey dingey”bit.Playing one 40 minute piece that concluded with a sheepish wave and a “ thank you”, these musicians remind one of just how vast and varied our culture is.

Dean Wareham 6/3/25 Spaceland

 Indie stalwart Wareham makes an appearance at the Ballroom. He started his career as one third of the critically acclaimed Boston outfit Galaxie 500 in the 80s. The next decade saw Dean fronting the band Luna. A fixture on college radio, Luna had some excellent releases. Bewitched, Penthouse, and Pup Tent were all packed with literate gems that garnered critical acclaim. When Luna broke up, Wareham teamed up with bassist Britta Phillips. On this evening, it was Dean and Britta joined by a young female guitarist and male drummer. Wareham kneels at the altar of Lou Reed with heavy doses of Velvet Underground in his song craft. The setlist was a career retrospective with hits from G-500 (Flowers, Snowstorm, When Will You Come Home, Blue Thunder), Luna (Friendly Advice, 23 Minutes in Brussels), with the rest coming from solo or Dean and Britta releases. His recent release “That’s the Price of Loving Me” also has some indie pop nuggets. They encored with the Galaxie 500 hit Tugboat and a New Order cover Ceremony. Wareham always seems like the smartest kid in the room, quoting the charge of the light brigade and singing a duet with Britta that was a suicide note from Dorothy Parker. He gives off an air of cerebral absentee dad, his over size glasses help him to do the Sunday crossword puzzle …..in pen. I’ve followed this man for most of his artistic career, seeing Luna multiple times (once even opening for Lou Reed), and am glad that he continues show his stuff.

Fred Frith 5/30/25 Firehouse 12

 Had this one on the calendar since it hit in early spring. A firth of Fred Frith at the Firehouse, on a Friday of all things. Frith has a storied but under the radar career. An experimental guitarist of the “prepared” school, Fred started his career in England in the late 60s with the art rock outfit Henry Cow. HC put out a few records adorned with just a picture of a crocheted sock, no title or band name, this act of self-sabotage insured their anonymity and doomed any financial success. Maybe that was the point, put one of these sock records on the turntable and you are assaulted with sounds that straddled prog and avant garde. Too weird for the Floydian or Crimsonian prog heads and (I’m assuming) too young for the Cage and Stockhausen classicists, the Cow disbanded. Frith went on to create fresh guitar workouts in the 70s, the 1974 Guitar Solos record attaining cult status. Moving to NYC and immersing himself in the NoWave downtown scene, Frith found like-minded music savants like Zorn and Laswell. An in demand fringe musical mind, Fred played on a few Eno and Residents records which would cement his CV. He moved to California and settled into Professor status at Mills College. Last year he composed 50, a fifty year tribute to the Guitar Solos record which topped many fringe best of lists. This evening had Fred on solo guitar. Playing it on his lap made for poor visibility, especially with a capacity crowd. I was left to imagine how these sounds were made, which was impossible. The acoustics of this space are top rate and Fred had an uncanny ability to inhabit foreground and background. One sequence sounded like seagulls, while another sounded like the execution of Charlie Brown’s teacher. Tapping, scraping, dragging chains over the strings, made for quite the incomprehensible racket. One sequence had vocal fragments followed by low moaning. All sounds were looped and phased. Showing all his wares, one passage had a beautiful almost Japanese koto lilt, while another had him outright shredding. The timing whiplash was impressive. He also had this ability to play with the tuning pegs while looping which resulted in a woozy liquid sequence. Fred Frith may not be a household name, but in my household he has been a thread that binds many musical excursions.

Stella Silbert 5/21/25 Brundage Community Branch Library, Hamden

 A lifetime of flipping. Records, books, ephemera, where did all start? I begged my mother to take me to the (at that time minuscule) Hamden public library. A cramped building from the 50s next to the police station had their shelves. I was amazed to be able to procure a 1000pg coffee table book on King Tut by just handing over my tattered library card. Did I read them? Sadly , no, but I did start a life of flipping. The person on the other end of the card pass was a family friend named Lou(ise) Brundage. Immortalized by this branch in the bank section of town, I was pleased to see that it was a building from the 50s next to a package store. The Hamden Library system is a great network of knowledge and interaction. Happy to see them host an experimental music series organized by a pair that go by the name Strategy of Lakes. The series supports “ a tacit network of experimental musicians working in New England, with a particular focus on New Haven and Hamden.” The May installment had Stella Silbert an “ improviser, curator, cook,  disorganizer of sounds, and an organizer of multi- sensory gatherings in western Massachusetts.” Stella got moving with two turntables and some contact microphones. The platters were bare so that metal discs rotated at 33 and 1/3. Stella applied mallets and scrapers and even a wire brush to elicit a wide variety of sounds. One passage sounded like someone dragging a metal trash can down the hall while another sounded like a hubcap rolling down the street. The sounds were hypnotic and varied, I notice one of the Lakes guys marveling at her technique. The second piece incorporated fellow artist Nat Baldwin. Stella put on an oversized red hoodie, Nat had a red shirt on. They moved toward the audience with a small speaker wired to the board and a microphone. They slid them on the carpet while tapping the mic giving off a tribal beat. Stella put the mic and a large dried bean in the hoodie pouch and jumped around. Multi- sensory gathering indeed, this had a whiff of performance art. The final piece had Stella putting a record on the platter. She scraped and tapped with a dried plant and a knitting needle and a spring pilfered from a flashlight. About twenty sonic voyagers strapped in for the set. Listening to some pre show banter, I realize that many attendees are also sound artists. At the Q and A, I ask Stella what record did she use? A friend gave her some old rock records, Grand Funk Railroad, she replied.  Looking around at this lot, I would pick no one for my softball team. Thankfully, we weren’t playing ball, we were experiencing sound in an old timey library….perfect.