Fruit Bats w/Minor Moon 8/14/25 Spaceland

 Sometimes I arrive at a show circuitously. 2024 Green River fest highlight Bonny Light Horseman is an indie folk power trio anchored by songbird Anais Mitchell. Another third of that group is Eric D. Johnson, a long haired axe wielder with great vocal harmony chops. Johnson fronts his own group, Chicago’s Fruit Bats. I arrive early to catch most of opener Minor Moon. Turns out the lead Sam (there are three Sams and a bass playing Meredith) grew up in West Hartford and played the no alcohol Space venue to some enthusiastic aunts and uncles back in the day. A well crafted set of indie pop nuggets ensued. The playing was assured and lead Sam had a good way with the audience. Next up was the Fruit Bats. Johnson was definitely in charge and was joined by expert musicians on lead guitar, drums, bass, and keys. The music was familiar and soothing which explained the sold out 50/50 male to female crowd. Johnson cites The Byrds and The Kinks as influences but I heard a lot of Jayhawks in this mix. Tight four minute song structure backed by thoughtful lyrics spilled from Johnson. His vocals had a slight helium inflection which was not annoying, but charming. I’m not too familiar with the catalog, but the sold out crowd sung along with most tunes. Johnson was engaging, even hopping off stage at one point and belting out a tune with the crowd. Eric’s signature hair gets swung around like he was in Queensryche. Enjoyable show for a sweltering August night.

Newport Jazz Festival 8/2/25 Fort Adams

 Gorgeous weather was a fitting backdrop for my annual trek to the Fort.  Jazz Night in America host Christian McBride is the current talent wrangler of this storied fest. He tries to drive a wide swath of artists sometimes to a disjointed affair. After an arduous security gauntlet, we make it to the field.  First up on the main stage:

Nubya Garcia: British sax wailer Garcia is part of the new young lions. With cohorts like Shabaka Hutchings and Theon Cross, the UK contingent wows crowds with their skills while incorporating a wide variety of styles. Elements of dub and classical are seamlessly added to her jazz chops.

Knower: Louis Cole and Genevieve Artadi are LA based multi-instrumentalists  who create electronic dance and funk. A crowded Quad stage made viewing difficult, and the music seemed better suited for sweaty club happenings.

Dianne Reeves: Hailed as the jazz vocal successor to Betty Carter or Carmen McCrae, Reeves is an accomplished scat vocalist who interprets the world songbook with ease. Anchoring the main stage, she kept the old jazzbos engaged.

Fleck, Castaneda, Sanchez Trio: An unusual but excellent smash, the Quad stage had banjo artist Bela Fleck, Edmar Castaneda on harp, and Antonio Sanchez on drums. Banjo and harp exchanged fluid runs that were mesmerizing. Not since Alice Coltrane have I seen such expert use of jazz harp. Watching Edmar on the big screen gave you a feel for just how difficult the instrument is to play, he rocked back and forth as if he was tangoing with the thing. Bela  has wowed me on multiple occasions, while older and grayer, he still moves the banjo from the Appalachian porch to all corners of the world. His excellent documentary of him travelling through Africa playing impromptu jams with villagers is great. Fleck’s cover of Help On The Way from the Day of The Dead tribute with The Wood Brothers and Zakir Hussein remains one of my favorite cover/tribute tunes.

Flying Lotus: I was unclear how Steven Ellison’s Flying Lotus project would translate live. The recordings are expansive afrofuturist blowouts with the likes of Thom Yorke, Kamasi Washington, and Kendrick Lamar doing stints. He did a DJ set with trippy visuals which got the young kids bumping and most older patrons running for the other stages. Ellison is the grand nephew of John and Alice Coltrane which boosts his jazz pedigree.

Janelle Monae: Closing out the Saturday at the fest was actress, model, musician, spokesperson, and all around overachiever Monae. Her costumes and stage presence were intimidating. While on the podium, she had a roadie open a large cape for her to change looks without leaving the stage. A large band with horns, keys, drums, guitar, bass, and two gogo dancers were in stark contrast to Flying Lotus’ solo perch. Her setlist was posted:Float, Champagne Shit, Django Jane, QUEEN, Electric Lady,  Lipstick Lover, Pynk, I Like That, and did a sizable encore Make Me Feel, Cold War, Tightrope, and Come Alive ( the last tune I’m told is the theme to the cheesy reality show Love Island.Monae is a chameleonic presence that had the crowd bobbing back to their cars.

King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard 7/30/25 Westville Bowl

 For those of you who have ever uttered the phrase “it was a little jammy”, should probably back off from this post. KG&TLW are the torchbearers of the jam genre. The group looked to be 6 or 7 strong, but it was difficult to tell from my vantage point. From Melbourne, the band is known for its omnivorous musical appetite and prolific recorded output. Krautrock, psychedelia, metal, disco were all safe targets for these guys. Their legendary live shows are a tapers dream, and they have been known to release 5 records in a year. The recent release,  Phantom Island was showcased. The group was backed by the Orchestra of St Luke’s a chamber outfit from Philly conducted by Sarah Hicks. Looked to be about 30 pieces, strings brass and percussion tried to keep up with the Aussie dervishes. There was even a monstrous harp, cuz why not?  I’m not too familiar with their catalog, but the setlist went as follows: Phantom Island, Deadstick,  Lonely Cosmos, Eternal Return, Panpsych, Spacesick, Aerodynamic, Sea of Doubt, Silent Spirit, Grow Wings and Fly, Hot Water. While there was no discernible setbreak, the internet listed a set two with: The River, Crumbling Castle,  This Thing, Mars for the Rich,  Dragon,  and closed with the anthemic Iron Lung. Truly an egalitarian affair, four band members sang, each with a different vibe, one was punky, one sounded like Elton John, the mix and match was dizzying. The guy who sang most played a flying V guitar, and did an amazing flute bit. The crowd was predominantly 20 year olds, and they truly packed the Bowl on this steamy evening. Towards the end of the show, a contingent of revellers in front of the stage started running in a counterclockwise circle that looked like a whirlpool of humanity. Musicians have been jamming for centuries, the intoxicating notion of playing at a frenetic pace in a band situation is best experienced live. For me, the 1971 Fillmore East recording by the Allman Brothers blessed us with the ultimate jam In Memory of Elizabeth Reed.  A headstone in Macon was the impetus for that song.  My recent orchestral experience at the Bowl had Beck tastefully shaded, while these Aussies dared the orchestra to follow. From Macon to Melbourne, when life deals you a cornucopia of styles, some might make lemonade, the Gizz makes jam.

Carroll-Rhodes-Testa-Dragan w/ Hissquiet and The // Moon 7/25/25 Neverending Books

 The // Moon is a solo computer DJ project. A young man in a baseball hat sidles up to the card table. His rig is an effects box and MacBook. He produces dreamy beats flecked with sampled vocal snippets. The backdrop was an impressionistic video projection controlled by a young techie. I could watch him slide from icon to icon producing hypnotic visuals on the lo-fi bookstore projection screen, okay it is a white sheet tacked to the window frame. Some vocal samples sounded like library spoken word, but he leaned heavily on what sounded like a voicemail from his grandma stating that she “may have hit her head, so her memory isn’t great, but she would never forget your birthday”. This series usually leans on noise and experimental offerings, The//Moon owed more to DJ Shadow than Xenakis and the music was thoroughly enjoyable.

hissquiet is another solo project from the artist Ash Farrand. They/them are a sound engineer, web developer, and graphic designer who hits the card table with a circuit box and a crockpot. It wasn’t really a crockpot, but a large steel lobster pot. They started their set with an iPad depicting some young Latino kids singing in their native tongue. They dunked the iPad into the pot to give off a weird echoey effect. The circuit box had a tangle of patch cords that were manipulated in conjunction with the pot. Metal objects, a macrame widget were swished around the pot to ethereal effects. Their partner and a small Korgi sat lovingly in front of the card table until a loud apparently unplanned screech forced them out of the store. The music is self-described as dark ambient.

The headlining troupe was Anne Rhodes on voice and computer, Carl Testa on standup bass, Jeff Dragan on computer/ effects, and Marie Carroll on koto. Rhodes is a local avant scenester who I have seen at the Firehouse with NHIC and gargling with local accordionist Adam Matlock at the State House. She takes her place on the elevated stage as a kind of ASMR master of ceremonies. Her treated giggling and whispering made for excellent percussion. Testa is a regional pro who anchored the group on bass. He tapped the bass body in addition to plucking and bowing. Jeff Dragan runs this series at the bookstore and goes by the name FiFacs House.  Meant to give Jeff a recurring gig, FH has given spotlight to local outsider musicians who aren’t easily pigeonholed. Carroll has no pigeonhole. Her instrument is an 8’  Japanese koto. The instrument looked like a stringed diving board with a sigmoid spine of bridges to give the strings multiple sounds. The koto was 2.5 times the size of Carroll, with no obvious helper, I am amazed at how she must transport the thing.  I quipped to my seat mates “that’s no koto, that’s a Komodo koto”, my joke fell flat. A set of free improv with a truly unique set of instruments made for a compelling listen.

Beck with the Westville Philharmonic 7/15/25 Westville Music Bowl

 A career that could have easily rode into the sunset on the proceeds of the rap slacker anthem “Loser”, has thankfully pinged through a myriad of styles, collaborations, and years to grace us with mononomic Beck. Over 30 years, I  have had the pleasure to view his live shows. Be it the seminal punk rap mashup of the Odelay record at Lollopalooza 2, the cheesy Kmartfunk of the Midnite Vultures record at Massmoca, and now the” wouldn’t it be cool to get an orchestra” to flesh out the Sea Change and Morning Phase records at the Bowl. A 60 piece orchestra allowed for lush arrangements of the ballad heavy recordings. Beck, still the nerdy waif of his 20s, fronts the troupe with an acoustic and a snarky sense of humor. He regales us with stories of stupidly turning down stints with the lucrative Shrek soundtracks and the ominous career twilight use of an orchestra. The setlist didn’t disappoint: Cycle, The Golden Age, Everybody’s Got To Learn Sometime (Korgis, cover),  Lonesome Tears, Wave, Tropicalia, Blue Moon, Lost Cause,  The New Pollution, Missing, Tarantula (Colourbox cover dedicated to the tennis goths),  It’s Raining Today and Montague Terrace ( both Scott Walker tunes),  Round The Bend, Paper Tiger, We Live Again, Waking Light, and concluded the orchestra set with Where Its At. He does a lengthy encore with just band, the bluesy harmonica One Foot in the Grave, Devils Haircut, Mixed Business, and closed with the anthemic Loser.  The nosebleed seats were the perfect place to view on this steamy evening. The arrangements, assisted by Beck’s father, were expertly delivered by the orchestra. Strings, brass, percussion added a dimension to the catalog usually reserved for headphones. As the orchestra leaves the stage, the ever kooky Beck waves “bye bye trombones”, tries to pick up a gaggle of flautists “ where’re you guys going now?” and goofs at the percussionists “this dude left his phone on the smoke machine”. A true musical chameleon, he didn’t even touch my personal fave Guero. Many artists kneel at the altar of cult 60s crooner Scott Walker and Beck used the orchestra to scratch that itch. Very happy this artist did not stop at the unwitting success of Loser.

Blink 7/12/25 Neverending Books

Chance googling and an interesting bio  for Blink leader Jorrit Dijkstra led me to the bookstore. The abysmal website indicated this show was to happen sometime between 6 and 10. Arriving at 8ish, I thought to catch the tail end of the set. I caught the very tale end, like the last tune. If there are any concert promoters reading, please describe the event accurately. In this instance, doors at 6, show at 7, and if you arrive at 830, you almost miss. The event listing should not be driven by spreadsheet geometry. Dijkstra is a sax player who was joined in the tiny bookstore space by two guitarists, electric bass, and drums. A friend mentioned a distinct Ornette vibe, which was evident for my brief viewing. Jorrit, from Amsterdam, has retained the European jazz sound from his youth. Now an Associate Professor at Berklee in Boston, Jorrit has many avenues to explore and improvise. His recent projects include a quartet Bolt, The Porch Trio, and the large ensemble Bathysphere in Boston. He helms a group called The Whammies who celebrate the music of soprano legend Steve Lacy. After the show, Jorrit explained his desire to command a guitar-centric group. Berklee is a melting pot of musical ideas, and it seems Jorrit is happy to tap in to the multi-faceted scene.

PAKT w/ Head With Wings 7/8/25 Spaceland

 Head With Wings are local progsters who jumped at the chance to open this show. A quintet with lead guitar, rhythm guitar, five string bass, drums, and singer. These guys are available whenever a top tier outfit sails through the area. They look to be in their 30s, so the prog had a touch of grunge mixed in. Lead guitar gave some nifty slide work and the 5 string bass added nice color. The singer was a character, engaging with the obligatory prog heckler. He had a normal singing voice that often elevated to a higher register, I mean a kick in the balls octave jump. He also switched gears into a creepy horror movie squelch. The lyrics followed the cosmic prog vibe, I mean mountains come out of the sky and were supposed to believe they, what, just stand there?

PAKT are an instrumental supergroup led by fretless bass phenom Percy Jones, Alex Skolnick on guitar, Kenny Grohowski on drums and electronics, and Tim Motzer on guitar and electronics. Jones played on some of the seminal Eno recordings and helmed the group Brand X. The fretless bass is a wonder to view allowing for rubbery runs. Jones hands were so large, they were necessary for his sound. Skolnick was mentored by Joe Satriani and did time in the progmetal band Testament. Grohowski had the Crimson mammoth kit and was in constant motion. Motzer played multiple guitars and moved his sound through an effects box that could bend the sound in many ways. The other members thanked Motzer for wrangling this tour. The music was all improvised but had an effortless feel in the hands of these pros.

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.

Hamell On Trial 5/15/25 The Institute Library

 Let’s start with the Institute Library. A “subscription “ library founded in 1826, it is housed on the second and third floor of a building on lower Chapel street. A small inscription on the foyer cement is the only outward indication of its existence. Pass the inscription and up some early nineteenth century steps, you enter the inviting library. I’m early for the show so I get my own personal tour. Comfy chairs, study tables, and walls lined floor to ceiling with books show a gem that pre-dates the modern library system, its mission has always been to provide “mutual assistance in the attainment of useful knowledge”. A noble goal for a $60 per year membership fee, though non-members are free to use the space. The third floor houses an art gallery with works from local artists and a small listening room with stereo. The listening room has a decent (approx. 500) selection of jazz vinyl that are spun on Friday afternoons. A small clatch of jazzbos  descend with beverage of choice and macerate an artist, I notice that the saxophonist Joe Henderson was on the block for the next session. Back to the library floor for the WPKN sponsored Hamell OnTrial show.  Ed Hamell is a one man folk punk dervish who was positively reviewed in this blog for a December 2024 show at Best Video. At that show, he alluded to a collaboration with his son, Detroit Hamell, who is currently a film student at NYU. This evening had that collaboration titled “Driving All Night: How to Raise a Child, and Survive as a Broke-ass Musician”. Hamell and his wife separated when Detroit was small leading to an unorthodox co-parenting arrangement. As a touring solo musician, Detroits days and nights were filled with “car rides, dive bars, and Motel 6s” in support of his father. The show had poignant video clips with songs and profanity laced interludes from Hamell. Like a cross between Lenny Bruce and Ani Difranco, Hamell exposed a rich life with no money. Friendships, experiences on the road shape the young boys life and form a strong father son bond. The songs comically tackle subjects like cyber bullying, respect for the police, and coming clean about his colorful past while raising his child. Hamell has a way with words, many of them have four letters. Wade through the quips and realize parenting, the notion of family, and sheer survival on a musicians income reveal a compelling story.

Fet Milokan 5/13/25 Yale Divinity School

 Fet Milokan is a fully immersive experience. Ritual sounds and dances come from African nanchon ( spirit nations) by way of Haitian ancestral practices. The proceedings were driven by mother and daughter team Manbo Maude and Sosyete Nago. Twelve singers and dancers with three drummers moved through the ceremony. Call and response in their native tongue was fortified by the conga backdrop. The first section had the group singing in front of makeshift altar. A small table with a sequined wrap had candles and trinkets was oddly placed in front of the adult beverage table. I mean it would be all sorts of wrong for this crew to proselytize in front of a bottle of Captain Morgan. Seems the placement was intentional as one guy danced around with a handle of something. A crowd of about 60 sat in circular formation. The costumes were colorful with some women wearing headgear and chunky jewelry. They moved from the altar to a shiny monolith in the center of the circle. They danced slow, fast, with, and without each other all the while the tribal congas punctuating the performance. I take any opportunity to see different Yale buildings. Thankfully, I entered the Div School at the complete wrong end, enabling me to amble through a maze of offices, sitting rooms and libraries lavishly appointed with beautiful furniture and the occasional Steinway. At an intermission of sorts, the daughter explains the term Ayibobo which makes frequent appearances in the songs. “I see you, I appreciate you, and I acknowledge the spiritual forces at work in our lives”, seems like the perfect sentiment for this ceremony.

John Moreland 5/9/25 Space Ballroom

 Singer songwriter Moreland graced the stage on a Friday at Space. An imposing figure at 350lbs with a completely inked up shaved head, the songs were heartfelt nuggets that blended folk and blues. Armed with just an acoustic guitar and a well worn voice, Moreland rambled through his catalog. Songs of love and loss, addiction and alienation were all expertly delivered. The setlist went like this: The More You Say, the Less it Means, I Need You to Tell Me Who I Am, Cherokee, Oh Julia, Old Wounds,  Losing Sleep Tonight,  Break My Heart Sweetly,  Blacklist, God’s Medicine, Heart’s Too Heavy,  Will The Heavens Catch Us? , and Lies I Chose to Believe. Moreland’s work owes credit to Steve Earle and Townes Van Zandt. Like Steve and Townes, it seems John had a checkered past with addiction. Lines like “she needs to kill what’s killing her” and “ I should  deal with my demons, but I’m dodging them instead” are sung by a man who has seen it. Moreland hails from Bixby Oklahoma, his Midwest drawl was a special sauce for some tunes. Seems that John had a previous life as a troubled young man in a hardcore band, with one of his current songs throwing shade at Danbury CT and that time in his life. Given his appearance, it’s easy to believe that Moreland has struggled with acceptance and alienation, his recent recording The Visitor highlighting these themes. Sometimes life works out as Moreland was lovingly accepted by the near capacity crowd.

Weird Music Night 5/8/25 Slade-Ely House

 Weird Music Night, you might think I was spitballing my headstone epitaph, but no it’s an actual thing. With a Master of Ceremonies named Pervert Savant, a night of “music” that was definitely weird ensued. The Ely Center for Contemporary Art is an unobtrusive gem on Trumbull street. A rambling structure set amongst lawyers and therapist offices, the house has a large foyer, round ante room with separate rooms at 2,4, and 7 o’clock. The show started with A I Pacino, a beat poet cyborg with a demonic Al Pacino mask with glowing red eyes. The dimly lit round room was perfect for John O’Donnell aka A I to “ merge satire, simulation, and sincerity at the intersection of artificial intelligence and iconic celebrity”. A I had the mask perched on top of his head while he spit word salads, ranging from simple side to deluxe Cobb, that appeared to be coming from the mask when he dipped his head. Topics from 90 s situational comedy to whether he believes in the moon landing were tackled,  all with a backdrop of the looming techno-apocalypse. At the 2 o’clock room, The Regal Drug takes flight. A duo with trumpet and synths, these guys layered cool drone passages. The trumpet was passed through an effects mic that moved into untrumpet territory. The synth guy appears at many of the more outsider events around town. They had an eerie colorful backlighting that enhanced a cinematic effect. Merch and free wine and beer were located in the 4 o’clock room. In the 7 o’clock room, Broken Robots do their thing. Another duo with sax and a guy named Jack Daniel on computer and voice. Broken Robots” channel chaos into communion, searching for the profound in the profane, the sacred in the stupid, and the ecstatic in the everyday. Part punk jazz sermon, part theatrical seance”. Daniel had two bud vases on his card table, one with a dead rose another with a healthy one. He moved them back and forth in a demented ouija skit. He started sobbing into his microphone while looping and distorting. I helped O’Donnell ( who is also A I and Pervert Savant) move a podium to make room for more Robots viewers. I told him I’m a fan of Weird Music, his reply “I know, that’s why you’re here”.

FIM 5/4/25 Neverending Books

 Nice afternoon for a double dip. After the dervish offering by Takaat, I made it across town to the dirty bookstore for a 6pm start of FIM.  For those keeping score at home, FIM is Free Improvised Music, a loose cabal of noiseniks that gather for a freakout session at NEB. From a packed house at 3Sheets, to an intimate 20 person affair,I stayed for the first two sets. The first had Luke Rovinsky on guitar and someone named Flose on electronics. Luke, along with bassist Caleb Duval, are lead wranglers for FIM. Rovinsky scraped and stabbed to give a high decibel racket. Flose had a striking resemblance to Daryl from The Office. He had a card table set up with effects boxes and assorted widgets to coax his sound. Alligator clips were snapped on to a variety of hand tools. Wire brushes, spackle knives all yielded different effects when fed through the boxes. Earplugs were necessary for this set.

Second set had Sandy Ewen on prepared guitar, Kaelen  Ghandi on sax, and a standup bass player whose name I didn’t catch. Ewen emptied her purse onto a chair. Keys, spatulas, screwdrivers, and scrapers were used on her guitar strings. She played with guitar in her lap which enabled a percussive sound. Ghandi squeaked and squalled, and is a frequent collaborator of the FIM. The bass player tried to keep the others grounded to no avail. The FIM brings challenging music, often with international guests.

Takaat w/ The Mountain Movers 5/4/25 Three Sheets

 Three Sheets occupies the address that formerly housed Rudy’s. That’s right, Rudy’s, immortalized in the Steely Dan song Black Cow. While it’s been at least 20 years since my last visit, not much has changed. The microscopic bathroom may be an extra foot below sea level given the sheer volume of urine going out. An odd afternoon show put on by Shaki Presents, was not to be missed. Since 2008, the Mountain Movers have been a pillar of the New Haven psychedelic scene. Dan Greene and Kryssi Battalene on guitars, Rick Omonte on bass, and Ross Menze on drums. I enter the bar with the Movers set underway. The twin guitar crunch fuels the spacey jams, with Greene kneeling into a Hendrixian feedback squall. Battalene has grown up throughout my frequent viewings, early on she may have skateboarded to the show. Her other group Headroom is also must view local music. Omonte is DJ Shaki, a local promoter who has been a conduit of world music for New Haven for years. He is an expert on psychedelic cumbia and often does DJ events. Great set from these local scenesters that closed with a looped harmonica sequence.

Takaat is the backing band of the Niger guitarist Mdou Moctar. The word Takaat means “noise” in the Tuareg language Tamashek. The trio is Ahmoudou Madassane on guitar, Mikey Coltun on bass, and Souleymane Ibrahim on drums. The music is propulsive desert blues crossed with a punk bite. The hypnotic guitar swirl, the muscular bass riffs, and the frenetic drumming wow the capacity crowd at Three sheets. Drummer and guitar are dressed in their native robes and turbans that emphasize the exotic nature of what’s on stage. Spotify says that Takaat follows “in the independent music culture that birthed hardcore basement shows, bedroom tape labels, and generator- powered pick-up wedding bands”. Every now and then you view some music and realize you are witnessing  something special,  that was Takaat.

New Orthodox w/ An Historic 4/30/25 Cafe 9

 Caught the whole set from An Historic, one of the many incarnations of local musician Adam Matlock. On Discogs, I notice that Adam performs and records with at least 20 different aliases. I recently sung the praises of Dr Caterwaul’s Cadre of Clairvoyant Claptraps, a loose knit group of local musicians fronted by Adam. With An Historic, it is just Adam with his accordion. He bills this as a set of  “songs”. He has a booming voice and a way with words. These seem like show tunes executed by man and accordion. He attacks these songs with the same voracity he applies to his more avant garde musings.

New Orthodox is  the  outlet of NY state multi-instrumentalist Nicholas Merz. The sound is minimalist sonic repetition that gives way to lyrical passages. The bio states that Merz gives off Scott Walker vibes. He plays one long form piece starting with drones coaxed from a pedal steel. Looping the drone, he rises and takes a stab at spoken word type poetry, he hops off stage and dances around while crooning in a Walkeresque style. This guy seems to be right at home in the Twin Peaks bar, he has this odd tic where his mouth is open constantly as if he is starting to yawn or waiting for some popcorn to be tossed from across the room. When his “song”is over, he seems genuinely appreciative to the applause from the 20 or so attendees. Weird music.

Sexmob 4/25/25 Firehouse 12

 Had this one circled on the calendar. Sexmob is a 30 year old collaboration of  downtown musicians. Led by slide trumpeter Steven Bernstein, Briggan Krauss on sax, Tony Scherr on standup bass, and Kenny Wollesen on drums. The premise is simple, take the widest possible swing at popular music, deconstruct, re-assemble, and let your audience guess. This band has spent time mining the work of Nino Rota, James Bond scores, Grateful Dead, Bill Withers, and everything in between. Packed house for the second set finds Bernstein in a chatty mode. Hard to believe this group had never graced the Firehouse stage before this evening, though most members have played here as part of other groups. The set starts with the Ellington composition Black and Tan Fantasy, next up a Nino Rota film score piece with some amazing bass work from Scherr. An original inspired by the trombone master Roswell Rudd showcases the slide trumpet. Imagine if a trumpet and trombone had a baby, the result is the unique slide trumpet. Bernstein has said his instrument “frees him from the constraints of sounding like other people”. The group oozes downtown cool, Steven with a clean shaven head and both ears pierced looks like an impish Mr. Clean. In the 90s, Bernstein did time with John Laurie’s Lounge Lizards ( from which this blog takes its name).  Steven has cobbled together quite a life in music, arranging for a dream team of jazz musicians for the Robert Altman film Kansas City, backing Laurie Anderson and Lou Reed, and my favorite as musical director for the Ramble series (music events at Levon Helm’s barn in the Catskills). I urge readers to check the Wiki on the vast scope of artists who have employed and collaborated with him. He fumbles around with some charts before settling on a world premiere, someone in the crowd yells “what is it?”. “You’ll get it”, replies Steve. Turns out to be a Liza Minnelli chestnut from way back. Closed the set with the  Jager-soaked bass and slide trumpet duet Ripple by the Grateful Dead. This group bridges the familiar and challenging with the greatest of ease.

St Vincent 4/18/25 College Street Music Hall

 Annie Clark AKA St Vincent parks her glammy art pop troupe in NewHaven for a Good Friday. Even as a Grammy winning artist with notable high profile collaborations, her music is elusive. Absent is the money driven focus of “hits” or “success”. St Vincent has been birthing angular guitar driven art pop since the early aughts and most was on display this evening. I correctly guess that Clark is 42 and share a Terri Gross story about her artistic beginnings. Seems that her uncle is Tuck Andress, the guitar virtuoso half of the duo Tuck and Patti. Andress helped Clark cobble together a home studio which must have enabled her sideways entry into the music world. Clark is an accomplshed guitarist and is joined by lead guitar, bass/keys, keyboards and drums. Clark is a sight, with an oversized shirt with questionable undergarments, she oozed a confident sensuality. Adding to this effect was the wafer thin female bassist who chose black latex booty shorts for this evenings attire. Side note, the bass player seems to also be an AI entrepreneur. The setlist: Reckless, Fear The Future, Los Ageless, Broken Man, Birth in Reverse, Dillettante, Pay Your Way in Pain, Flea,  Cheerleader, Big Time Nothing, Marrow, Violent Times, New York, Sugarboy, All Born Screaming, and Encored with Candy Darling. The music runs the gamut from pop sing along moments to industrial blowouts. The NYC art world is on display with the eponymous anthem and the Candy Darling name check. The Hall was filled with a wide swath of ages and close to a 50-50 gender mix. One can see why St Vincent has admirers (collaborators) like David Byrne, she is a true artist, making art on her own terms.

EXTC w/ Bud Collins Trio 4/16/25 Space Ballroom

 Bud Collins Trio haunted juke joints near UConn when I was there in the 80s. I’m pretty sure there isn’t a Bud Collins, and I seem to recall more than 3 members though that might be collegial double vision. Noodly, guitar centric jams dominate their output. Guitar, drums and bass make the trio on this evening. The guitarist singer had wire rimmed glasses that slid down his nose in a Schumeresque fashion. BC3 are about my vintage and you can sense they were gushing to open for any incarnation of the 80s-90s punk pop powerhouse known as XTC.

EXTC is Terry Chambers, original XTC drummer, joined by guitar and bass to stroll through the XTC catalog. Few bands have a flawless record, in my opinion, XTC has two. English Settlement from 1982 and the Todd Rundgren produced Skylarking from 1986. The original band was fronted by singer songwriter Andy Partridge, bassist Colin Moulding, guitarist Dave Gregory, and Chambers. Injecting art-pop sensibility with a decidedly British punk ethos, XTC were college radio darlings. Partridge was quirky, he suffered from severe stage fright, quashing any notion of a tour. Adding to their appeal, the band served up the single Dear God which riled the censorship police in Britain. Maintaining a small cult status, Chambers convinced his ex-band mates to allow him to tour the material after all these years. The setlist was stellar. This is Pop, No Language in Our Lungs, Ball and Chain, Real by Reel, Towers of London, Senses Working Overtime, Burning With Optimism’s Flames, The Ballad of Peter Pumpkinhead, King For a Day, The Mayor of Simpleton, No Thugs in Our House, Sgt Rock, Respectable Street, Living Through Another Cuba/ Generals and Majors, Making Plans for Nigel, Stupidly Happy, and closed with Life Begins at the Hop. Listening to these songs, I wonder if Partridge realized how hard they would be to recreate live. While there is no substitute for the campy Parttridge, the stand in guitar and bass tag teamed vocal duties to great effect. The guitarist even enlisted the crowd to sing backup on Ball and Chain and Nigel. Chambers was a force on drums. Ball and Chain, Living Through Another Cuba showcase a tribal backbone. 80s XTC caught lightning in a bottle and the flame still burns for a new audience. Glad that Chambers finally got a chance to tour this classic back catalog.

Alan Sparhawk w/ Circuit Des Yeux 4/4/25 Space Ballroom

 Glad to have entered early enough to catch a couple of tunes from CDY. Circuit Des Yeux from Chicago has one member, voice and electronics artist Haley Fohr. Armed with an otherworldly vocal range, effects table with voice manipulator and drum machine, Fohr applies her voice to clubby, industrial slices of her catalog. I saw her about ten years ago in the back room at Bar. On that evening she knelt in the corner and growled into the microphone for her set. Perennial critic’s darling, Fohr exudes uncompromising artist vibe. Look her up on Spotify and notice an intriguing side project, The Ballad of Jackie Lynn, where Haley inhabits the persona of a coked-out country singer and performs a song cycle about her dysfunctional fictitious life. Her booming low register is sampled and processed to produce a club choir amalgam.

Alan Sparhawk is adrift. Duluth resident started the critically acclaimed indie band Low in the 90s. Sparhawk formed Low with childhood friend and eventual wife Mimi Parker. Parker played drums and sometimes bass while Sparhawk played guitar. The real treat was their vocal duets. The voices chillingly complemented each other. Listen to under the radar records like The Great Destroyer or The Invisible Way and I dare you not to become a Low fan. In 2022, tragedy struck when Parker died of cancer. One can only imagine the personal and artistic devastation that resulted. Burying himself in his craft, Alan’s output has been uncompromising and wide ranging. On one recent recording, he puts his voice through some ultra pitch tuned modulator that sounds like a cross between Alvin of Chipmunks fame crossed with Laurie Anderson in a helium chamber. Largely unintelligible vocals set to dance beats are an unusual extension of the lyric heavy crescendo slowcore known as Low. His most recent record, backed by the Americana group Trampled By Turtles, is a delicious collection of literate songs. Unsure what to expect on this evening, the show starts with a set from the Chipmunk recording. Sparhawk joined by bass, and drums jumps around maniacally, like some kid that just raided the Molly cabinet. Perhaps dance therapy is one way to shake off the grief. The drummer even has red plastic rimmed glasses as if he were trying out for the Buggles. Alan switches to guitar for the second half and pulls from the other excellent recording. The versatility is amazing, at one point doing a cover from the recently departed Roy Ayers. Finishes the set with a nod to another recently deceased hero, David Lynch. While chatting with Manic Mark, I got a funny story about seating requirements from Low, we both resolve that Sparhawk is a true artist and can do whatever the fuck he wants. This evening will go down as a showcase of the resilient wide ranging artists on the scene. From the modern composition activism of Raven Chacon, to the vocal creativity of Haley Fohr, capped by the grief release of Alan Sparhawk…..wow.

Raven Chacon 4/4/25 CCAM

 Raven Chacon is a multidisciplinary artist from Fort Defiance, Navajo Nation outside of Albuquerque. He graces Yale for a mini residency, interacting with students, having his chamber compositions performed at Schwarzman, and tonight’s stop at  the CCAM  clubhouse for some Q and A and a noise performance. Speaking with lead CCAM wrangler Ross Wightman, we learn that as a young Native American headbanger, Raven and a drummer friend spent time in the desert making some unholy racket, no parents or neighbors to file a noise complaint. Given his answers to Ross’ questions, seems that Raven’s forays came with some peyote buttons. He started with a bass, but the strings broke ,then the neck, and he was left with a bass pickup and a desert generator. The next step was noise. His mother urged him to higher musical education. Given the lack of like-minded noiseniks in town, Raven enrolled in the prestigious CalArts program to study with James Tenney. A new world opened up, Cage, Cardew,  Riley and other West coast modern composers mentored the young Chacon into the Pulitzer Prize winning artist he is today. Ushers passed out earplugs knowing the squall that was about to ensue. A table of effects pedals and iPads unleashed a torrent of white noise. The beauty of a noise performance is that different sounds emerge and fade. One sequence sounded like a beating heart, another sounded like squeaky bus brakes morphing into birdhouse at the zoo territory. The shades were not drawn, at one point a Bernoulli effect ambulance siren drove down York street, forcing a wry smile from Chacon. The Pulitzer was won for his piece Voiceless Mass written for church organ and choir. Raven also plugged the upcoming NYC End Tymes Festival, highlighting noise artists performing in churches, abandoned subway tunnels and the like. Raven’s social activism frequently puts him in the cross hairs of the political steamroller, land rights, indigenous peoples rights, he even obtained grant money to stitch together sounds from J6 (the current administration pulled that funding lickety split).  Cage’s infamous composition 4’33”, four and a half minutes of complete silence,  sparked a young Chacon.  The reaction to his people being silenced informs his art to this day. Another great performance at the hands of Yale’s Center for Collaborative  Arts and Media (CCAM).

Charlie Ballantine Trio 3/29/25 Firehouse 12

 Guitarist, composer, educator Ballantine  is a young guitarist from Indianapolis. Listed in the top 200 of living guitarists chronicled by All About Jazz magazine, Charlie makes a stop for the Firehouse spring series. Accompanied by standup bass and drums, the trio plow through a groove-based workout for a sparse second set crowd. A departure from the usual improv fare usually on display, this trio cooked. Ballantine’s agile runs seemed frenetic and effortless, the setlist pulled from his modest but tasteful catalog. Original works Love Letters and Graffiti, Falling Grace, and Cold Coffee are balanced by reverential releases Life Is Brief (Dylan), Vonnegut, and a tour of  Thelonious Monk chestnuts. Tunes like Love Letters, and Blues for Baltimorrow were expertly delivered. Excellent version of Monk’s Off Minor was a highlight. The reverence toward the Firehouse was also notable, Charlie did some homework as to the many greats that have graced this space over time. To quote the late great Captain Beefheart describing Yale graduate Gary Lucas playing “Flavor Bud Living”, …… “ man can play guitar.”

Light Upon Blight Ensemble W/ Dr. Caterwaul’s Cadre of Clairvoyant Claptraps 3/5/25 Cafe 9

 Got off the couch early for local noiseniks Doc C. Helmed by renaissance man Adam Matlock on accordion, keytar and vocals with Brian Slattery on fiddle and Cajun field holler, they are joined by standup bass and drums. I enter the club to a straight up Zydeco number, accordion and field holler were so expertly delivered, it sounded like I was in Baton Rouge. Matlock and company are such musical omnivores that the Zydeco number seemed effortless. Next up Adam switched to the unusual keytar, a portable keyboard with a guitar neck allows for bent notes and a funky jazz number. Adam then sings a soul/ blues number about music “that will make you shake”. Final tune seemed like opera, with Adam on booming vocals, because, why not?  Matlock has sung in Anthony Braxton large groups, plays avant garde, metal, and everything in between.  These guys have other lives and have limited live dates but I urge any local music fans to seek them out. Each show is like a box of chocolates.

Light Upon Blight Ensemble is the brainchild of local guitarists Bob Gorry and Jeff Cedrone. Bob is leader of NHIC ( New Haven Improvisers Collective) a loose group of likeminded music weirdos that was home to some of the Doc C players. LUBE has just had a cd release Century which is on Spotify and bandcamp. On this evening they play one long form piece It’s Dark Now an homage to the late great David Lynch. The guitarists are joined by sax, electric bass, and two drummers. The music goes in many directions, with Cedrone’s guitar giving him trouble at one point. The beauty of improv was that it moves to the “next man up” while Jeff fiddled with his rig. Gorry had a stabbing section that sounded like he was channeling Sonny Sharrock. This music is challenging but worthwhile when viewed live. Nice to see a good group of appreciators on this rainy evening.

Echo 3/2/25 AFAM Center at Yale

 The Yale Undergraduate Jazz Collective teamed up with a local group of poets known as Word to present an afternoon mashup of the two art forms. First piece was a young black woman talking about her complicated relationship with the South. Georgia, to be exact, she alluded to her birth and viewing the state as a parent. She was joined by a sax and trumpeter that gave a NewOrleans feel to the piece. Next up was a bleached blonde Asian woman whose piece was erotic. Imagery of hands on her throat toggled between sensual and strangling. She was joined by piano and flugelhorn. The musicians played snippets of My Funny Valentine during her piece. A young man took the mic and had a two part recitation. The first part was a rant about the state of our society for a person of color. He played with the words hopeless and hope less. The second part seemed to be about a relative, a younger brother maybe. He spoke of the future and what lies ahead for the youngster. He was joined by guitar, sax, and a young woman on wordless vocals. The final poet was a young man whose piece was about love and the cosmos. Common tropes for the poet, he was joined by guitar and piano. His delivery was not as assertive as the others which detracted from the musical backing. It sounded like he was mumbling his piece while walking by a Tower Records that had Windham Hill bumping out the door. I give credit to both groups of artists, they seemed to genuinely revel in the mashup. The trick was the sound, you needed to hear the words and the music which was tricky. Enjoyable afternoon show.

Yale Percussion Group 2/28/25 Sprague Hall

 February is a down month. Sure, it only has 28 days and Valentines Day, but when you realize it’s only 6% shorter than most months and Valentines Day is the New Years Eve of romance, you’re left with the misery known as shoveling and scraping. Thankfully, Robert van Sice, director of the heralded Yale Percussion Group, has chosen February for the annual recital. The program starts with “Threads”, a 2005 composition by Paul Lansky. Four musicians each with a marimba or vibraphone and some sort of drum set. As with the annual bassoon recital, I will describe the students. Lanky white guy, could be a great great great grandson of the revolution, starts by bowing his vibes perpendicular to a drone effect. His drum set is a collection of snares and toms as well as a shelf of junkyard objects that gives off a cartoonish vibe. A young asian woman played marimba and large kettle drums, when struck forcefully, they sounded like traditional Taiko. Another young Caucasian man played vibes and congas, the latter sounding like a blaxploitation film alley chase. The final player was a young Asian man with toms and kick drum to add to the marimba. They played in a close circle, watching each other through the piece. Threads was a collection of mini pieces that returned to a soothing almost Mike Post theme vibe. The second piece, Ouroboros was a marimba duet written by the lanky player, a 22year old composer, overachiever. He notes that the piece was designed with palindromic runs, like an Escher snake eating its tail. The final piece of the first set was a marimba duo with the young Asian woman and a new to the stage white guy. The intermission is a chance for the players to clear the stage and set up for the finale. The second set was the 30 minute piece Dressur by the Argentinian composer Mauricio Kagel. Introduced byVan Sice as the intersection of Fellini and Cage, the piece was as much performance art as it was music. Three players, two guys and a girl, took their places at wooden desks and tables flanking a circular wooden platform. Turns out that all the “instruments” were wooden and handcrafted by the crew. Van Sice urged the crowd to laugh when things got funny and appreciate the theater involved. Like an opera in a foreign tongue, you had to discern, what was happening by tone, timbre, and facial gesture. Seems that one male was the aggressor, loudly stomping his chair at the cowering others. The oppressed signaled confidence by joining forces and clapping back with the guy lifting his shirt over his head and clomping his bare torso with coconut shells. At one point, the female put a bamboo wind chime on her head and mounted the round platform. The aggressor played 2x4s, 1x3s, and crown molding slapping and scraping as he went. Torso guy took the circle and donned some wooden clogs which he played and clomped. The piece is available on YouTube, and I urge readers to check it out. I likened the experience to Waiting for Godot with drums. February may be boring, but leave it to the Yale Percussion Group to lift you out of the drolldrums.

William Parker 2/16/25 Real Art Ways Hartford

 Annual stop for the William Parker Pantooker Revue starring some regional Jingtinglers. That’s right, Parker is such a mythic figure, he’s downright Seussian. The Improv Now monthly series at Real Art Ways has thankfully moved from the overly mirrored poor sound quality ballet studio to a gallery space near the entrance, cafe, and bathrooms. The gallery space has a large projection screen exhibiting the work “Thin Ice” by the CT artist Joseph Smolinski. The video is that of a Ford 150 with an American flag stuck in the tailgate (we’ve all driven behind one) that is slowly sinking through thin ice. The piece is mainly about climate change but takes swipes at toxic masculinity, faux patriotism, and modern day jack-assery. The video was halted for the performance. Parker is a downtown bassist and general multi instrumentalist. He is joined by Improv Now mastermind Joe Morris who plays bass, guitar, ngoni, and banjuke, and percussionist Jerome Dupree. The listing had local cornetist Taylor Ho Bynum, but he failed to show. The trio plied their improv trade. First tune had Parker on some kind of a brass umbrella stand and Morris on standup bass. Morris with baseball cap looked like a middle-aged avant garde first base coach. Coaxing his team to try running to third base first, or agreeing to let all nine players play right field. Dupree was nimble, with light touches and brushes, he followed the others with impeccable timing. With nerd glasses and wool beanie, Jerome looked the ultimate hipster. We learn that Dupree was drummer for the amazing Cambridge indie trio Morphine back in the day. Parker is a sight, my last viewing I realized halfway through the show that his clothing made him look like a big strawberry. Red pants with felt ‘seeds” affixed to them and a green beret “stem” of sorts. Todays show had somewhat normal attire, but upon closer inspection his obviously hand crafted pants seemed to be made of coral pink bath towels stitched together for 38X32 trousers. Better yet “pockets” made from a red tie dyed T-shirt were sown on each calf. Seems that these pockets were made to hold bow rosin at the perfect altitude. Next tune had Morris on guitar while Parker moved to standup bass. He plucked  and bowed to great effect. The interplay was great as these three are masters of jazz telepathy.. William also played a small metallic vuvuzela that gave off an Asian lilt. I braved shitty weather for this show and was delighted to see a near capacity crowd do the same.

Lea Bertucci 2/11/25 World Music Hall, Wesleyan

 Lea Bertucci is a NYC-based sound artist who focuses on tape loop and voice manipulation. Tonight’s performance was billed as a MA thesis program. Seems that Bertucci, whose installations have been featured worldwide, thought it would be a good idea to obtain a graduate degree from Wesleyan. The program had two long form pieces. The first was “Two Way Mirror” which revolved around stream of consciousness vocalization in which she warped her voice through creative misuse of a reel to reel tape machine. The tape extends and shatters words into fragments and confounds the relationship between language and meaning. The result seemed somewhere between Laurie Anderson and the Exorcist. Lea proceeded to expound with treated vocal fragments, “mass confusion and mass delusion”, “good government, good god”, “it’s a shame what has happened to the Americans”. The reel to reel lends an antiquated air to the piece, Lea hovers over the machine like a club DJ. The second piece was “ The Days Pass Quickly Immersed in the Shadow of Eternity” a work for multichannel speakers, electronics, and “live early flutes”. Lea had the audience move to the stage area and sit on cushions arranged in a circle around her. The music was taped flutes from Norbert Rodenkirchen, an early music scholar, who offered her sustained microtones from wooden and bone flutes. The instruments in this iteration were the Bass Renaissance, Medieval Traverso, Tenor Renaissance , Sheep Bone, and Swan Bone flutes. The result was haunting, ancient and modern. A fascinating journey that toggled time.

Mali Obomsawin 1/31/25 Sprague Hall, Yale

 Winter installment of Yale’s Ellington Jazz Series hosts genre fluid standup bassist Obomsawin and her band. Mali is a proud citizen of the Odenak First Nation, an indigenous section of central Quebec along the St. Lawrence seaway. Her heritage flows in and out of her work in the form of  field recordings, cadence, and wordless vocals. The band was excellent with Allison Burik on alto sax and bass clarinet, Noah Campbell on tenor  and soprano sax, Magdalena Abrego on guitar, and brothers Zack and Adam O’Farrill on drums and trumpet respectively. The show starts with an extended bass solo, with Mali plucking while in a trance. Wafer thin with saucer sized earrings, Mali had command of her instrument that was roughly her same size. On one speedy passage, it looked as if Mali was shaking the mast off a sailboat. Burik spent much of her time on the unusual bass clarinet, the hookah of the reed family, it is a hybrid brass and woodwind. Campbell seemed to be a devotee of fire music with Ayler-esque runs on both tenor and soprano. Tiny Abrego was fascinating, she started with bent note shading like David Torn, moved to Henry Kaiser angular solos, and even rock choogled like Jimmy Page, her diminutive size anathema to her sound. The O’Farrill brothers come from Latin jazz royalty, father Arturo and grandfather Chico were big band leaders that served as a proving ground for countless musicians. Obomsawin has a toe in many styles, Deerlady is a shoe gaze duo with Abrego, an excellent recording with roots musician ( and blog favorite) Jake Blount, film scores, and various sized jazz ensembles allow her to compose in many directions. The result was music that was difficult to categorize. One song had a field recording of an elderly Odenak male speaking in his native tongue, the backing music swelled in a buoyant fashion effectively assigning triumphant meaning to his words. Another had Burik and Abrego engaging in a back and forth electrical storm with battling effects pedals. At one point, Mali asked if Yale had divested in Israel to which the crowd yelled “no”. Obviously annoyed, she explained that support of indigenous peoples is contradictory to imperialist policy. Great evening of music, it wasn’t indie, it wasn’t world, it wasn’t jazz…..it was all of the above.

Reverend William Barber 1/27/25 Battell Chapel Yale

 Annual MLK commemoration at Yale’s beautiful chapel has fiery racial and social justice voice Barber opining on King and the state of our fragile democracy. The evening starts off with Shades, a multicultural acapella group of students who perform Lift Every Voice and Sing and We Shall Overcome. Standards of the African-American church, the near capacity audience sways and mouths along to these renditions. Next up is Influence, a local poet and rapper who recites his piece on sanitation workers. The symbolism of black people as America’s “necessary but invisible” garbage men is compelling. Introduced by the Dean of Yale’s divinity school, we learn that Barber holds 10 honorary doctorates. He is a go to fixture on cable news and is an eloquent speaker on issues of race and justice. The theme was Martin’s final speech, fittingly in support of the Memphis sanitation workers strike. Barber said that King struggled with “America’s schizophrenia” citing many examples of moving one step forward and two steps back. It is impossible to ignore the orange mushroom cloud that was recently inaugurated. Barber said that Martin wouldn’t be content with having a “day” in his honor, his work ethic was his trademark. William drew some striking parallels from history, the Spanish flu was scapegoated and bungled much like the coronavirus. Voting rights, civil rights have both taken hits under recent and I’m sure future Republican administrations, Barber reminded us to perservere. He pleaded with us to “know who we are” as we navigate our way forward. The second Trump administration promises to be awful and ugly, seems that they know who they are. Barber closed his talk with a call for unity, urging attendees to approach the altar and join hands in solidarity. I’m sure King was smiling in heaven. One minor, but glaring error, had the Divinity Dean referencing Barber’s work with the NCAAP, an unfortunate case of CRD (clueless racial dyslexia) showing us that we still have work to do.

Sasha Berliner 1/24/25 AFAM Cultural Center Yale

 Middle day of the annual Yale Undergraduate Jazz Collective festival has young vibraphone artist Berliner in a solo setting. Originally from Frisco, she now splits her time between NYC and LA leading and a member in a variety of groups. She sets up with some looping and effects boxes to create a percussive bed over which to play. Tapping the microphone and recording some shaker passages, she layers the vibes on top. This festival usually happens in April, maybe the YUJC wants to be more “inclusive” of winter months. The African-American center has a no frills assembly room that houses some programs on this festival weekend. Berliner seems to be on the spectrum as her intersong banter was shy and nerdy. Put some vibe mallets in her hands however, and she shines. I had a good view, when four mallets were used, the sound was typical magic wand wish granting. When Sasha moved to two mallets, the music turned more tribal. She name checked Gary Burton, the godfather of jazz vibes, as having influenced her work. One song, “The Worst Person in the World”  paid homage to an obscure Scandinavian film score.  Berliner has played with some top names in jazz, Tyshawn Sorey and Nicholas Payton being notable. The set was brief, but I am always happy to see the Collective showcase up and coming talent in the jazz world.

Paul “HR” Hudson w/ T!lt 1/16/25 Cafe 9

 Been a while since I’ve graced the musicians living room, Cafe 9. The current owners seem more content to slosh high power cocktails than put quality artists on the stage. Excited was I then to see this show posted. T!lt is a local moptop quartet of twenty-somethings whose fast paced punk delivery is a fresh assault in a sea of young singer songwriters. Bass, drums, lead guitar, and rhythm guitar shredded a barrage of two minute songs with such titles as “Buzzcut”. Both guitarists sang to great effect, snarling their way through the set. Look at these guys on Spotify and we learn they’ve been nominated for three Grammys, a Nobel Peace Prize, and are 5x three-legged race World Champions. Heady accomplishments for a crew that is also embroiled in multiple high profile lawsuits with everyone from Michael Buble to Yoko Ono. These guys will have a good time warming up for acts passing through.

HR ( Human Rights) is the stage name of punk legend Paul Hudson who was lead singer for the DC-based seminal punk outfit Bad Brains. Cited as an influence to No Doubt, Sublime, Red Hot Chili Peppers, and Beastie Boys to name a few, Bad Brains had the distinction of melding machine gun delivery with a reggae ethos. Add to that fact, they were black, Bad Brains were definitely an anomaly in the early 80s punk scene. The live show from the Bad Brains reached mythic status, with “James Brown gone berserk” frontman HR stage diving, back flipping, and engaging in general parkour hijinx that highlighted the aggro assault. Fast forward 30 years and the punk and the parkour are gone leaving a 70ish Rastafarian with back trouble. OK for me since I am a big reggae fan. HR takes the stage with an A-list crew of Rastas, guitar, bass, drums, and keys with a seated HR spew an excellent set of roots reggae. Floor length dreads indicate reggae authenticity and these guys brought the goods. Themes of peace and love, I and I, Rastafar I, bubbled from a stew of bass and echo. HR even “zionized” the Lord’s Prayer for a dubby dose of religion. Authentic reggae shows are hard to come by, and I was glad to be in attendance for this one. Many attendees seemed to be waiting for the old HR, a guy in front of me even wore his shirt stating “Violent, Skinhead, Rock and Roll”. Reggae is anything but violent, and that guy exited mid-set. Evolution shows up in many areas of life, reggae is a logical twilight endeavor of HR. While some lamented the lack of punk, I reveled in the high level reggae that was on display.

Joe Morris w/ Bob Gorry Neverending Books 1/9/25

 Two area avant skronk provocateurs meet on a cold January night for a set of improvised noodling. Morris has been reviewed many times in this blog. He teaches music composition in Boston and organizes the excellent Improv Now series at Real Art Ways. He is also instrumental ( pun definitely intended) in playing with and wrangling for bookings at Firehouse 12. Gorry is a local scenester who helms NHIC ( New Haven Improvisors Collective) a loose group of likeminded noiseniks who gather at the bookstore to ply their trade. The evening was billed to have three groups, assuming these two would headline, I planned my entrance accordingly. Upon arrival, I appear mid set for Joe and Bob. It’s ok, it’s not like they were playing Free Bird where one could discern a beginning, a middle, and an end. The music is challenging, but in the close proximity of the book store environment, you could really get a feel for how the improv works. Morris squiggled with an array of effect pedals while Gorry squaggled sometimes resorting to his trusty knitting needle for percussive effect. There was one passage that sounded like Morris was strangling an alien from a 60s movie set. The two diverged then converged in service to a marching beat that seemed like the thread that held them together. I stuck around for the final group which highlighted local reed man and contra dance aficionado Paul Maguire. The group had piano, guitar, bass, and Paul. The three pieces had Paul on different honkers. First was a crusty looking alto sax that looked like it was exhumed from the East River along side of Albert Ayler. The second was a soprano sax, the “straight horn” as Steve Lacy used to call it. Finally, Paul pulled out a recorder, the simulskronk sounding like a fourth grade assembly, on acid. This community embraces anyone brave enough to play or listen to this music, which is a life lesson we all should heed.