Everything you wanted to know about the Pabst/Riverside

Image from Google Images

The Milwaukee Journal-Sentinel took what was on the tip of everyone’s tongue and gave it 2000 words. Read article

Chances are if you’re reading this blog, you’ve seen a handful of shows at Pabst Theater, Turner Hall or the Riverside Theater. Lord knows we have! I’ll just say that’s it’s great to have venues in this town that respect concertgoers like us. Namely by:
1. Not over-charging at the door.
2. Not over-charging at the bar ($3 tall boys!).
3. Not enlisting gangster-ass thugs to run security operations.
4. Caring about how concerts sound.
5. Caring about how the venue looks, smells and feels.

So thank you, Pabst Theater Foundation, on behalf of all music freaks in this fine city. You’re an organization we can build a scene around. For that we’re grateful.

-Adam Lovinus, editor

Review: Of Montreal at Pabst Theater

Photo by CJ Foeckler/Pabst Theater

Story by Jamie Baird

Sunday night’s Of Montreal show at the Pabst Theater was the first time I had seen the band in eight years, since attending a show at a dive bar in Lawrence, Kansas. Touring as Of Montreal and Marshmellow Coast, the lyrical whimsy and play-acting was in full force, though more grade school-esque and DIY.

I had no idea how popular they had become. The packed house for this show was delightfully varied amongst age and lifestyle, and a large population formed up front to dance and catch every detail of the carnival on stage. Kevin Barnes is a truly a born performer – whether playing guitar, drums, dancing, screaming, preening or stripping; vocal control and instrumentation was executed as effortlessly as breathing.

Smart numbers like “Gallery Piece” and old favorites like “Gronlandic Edit,” “She’s A Rejector” and “Wraith Pinned to the Mist and Other Games” kept the show pumped with constant, sexy and buoyant energy (although I can’t hear “Wraith” any more without wanting an Outback steak!) A few too many slow psych-jams that didn’t translate well to stage almost lost me as an enthralled witness. The closing cover of “Smells Like Teen Spirit” was brutal and I’d love to see more rawness like that in the main set.

A constant barrage of video, monitor cameras and constumed performers populated almost every song, showing a nice balance of fun home videos and cartoons that featured the artwork of David Barnes and Nina Barnes, which made for interesting, beautiful and relevant enhancements to the show. Other play-pieces throughout the show were more distracting and bizarre than welcome. For any shortcomings perceived, Of Montreal delivered a tight, professional and fun party that looked spontaneous and crazy, and left more than a few minds blown, I’m sure.

Review: Fleet Foxes at Pabst Theater

Photo and story by Andrew Falk

Autumn is really the only time of year when I’d be excited to see Fleet Foxes live. Their self-titled debut record was released to much acclaim in June, but these are definitely not the sounds of summer. Just like Dungen sounds way better in the spring, Missy Elliott sounds perfect in the summertime, and PJ Harvey’s album White Chalk is amazing on frigid winter nights, Fleet Foxes have the certified soundtrack of fall 2008.

The sold-out show at Pabst Theater was opened by Frank Fairfield, a purveyor of authentic backwoods folk music who sounded like he’d stepped off a time machine from 1930. Switching between fiddle, banjo and guitar, Fairfield and his warbling, incomprehensible lyrics engaged about half of the audience and baffled the other.

Fleet Foxes received a hero’s welcome from the enthusiastic crowd, and after an a Capella introduction, the began their leisurely paced set with album opener “Sun It Rises.” The five-piece band created a full, majestic sound, with front man Robin Pecknold belting pastoral lyrics accompanied by gorgeous harmonies from three of his band mates. Their songs largely eschew modern sounds, instead of drawing solely from melodic folk-rock legends of the ’60s and ’70s. It was refreshing to hear the crowd embrace something other than the flavor of the week; Fleet Foxes are an earnest band playing soaring pieces like “Your Protector” and the warmly received single “White Winter Hymnal.” The middle section of “He Doesn’t Know Why” had an undeniable power, as Pecknold sang “There’s nothing I can say/There’s nothing I can do” over a strong beat that sounded positively mighty with the volume and dynamics of a live show. It’s hard to tell if their throwback sound is a deliberate reaction against modern artists trying to strike gold with a shiny novel style and no real songwriting ability, or if Fleet Foxes simply write all their songs in a log cabin because that’s just their scene.

The epic power of the songs occasionally summoned bands like Mogwai or Sigur Ros, but the aesthetic was still rooted in Neil Young (the Crazy Horse years) with occasional vocal inspiration from the Beach Boys. The band’s sound was bigger, grander and more affecting than on record, and judging by the new song they played during the encore, they are getting even better. A band this accomplished with only one album is a rare thing, and they show tremendous promise.

SHOW REVIEW: Martha Wainwright / KT Tunstall @ The Pabst Theater, 08.15.08

Words and images by Lilledeshan Bose
I’m not going to lie: Martha Wainwright and not headliner KT Tunstall was the reason I went to the Pabst for the second night in a row. I’ve been in love with her voice, her impassioned delivery and her obscenity-laced confessional songs since her self-titled album was first played on my iPod three years ago. I always dreamt of seeing her live, wondering how she would compare to her melodramatic brother Rufus, her funny actor-dad Loudon III and her mother Kate McGarrigle, both folksingers. I would watch videos of her on YouTube on repeat constantly.

I haven’t had a chance to digest songs from Wainwright’s latest release, “I Know You’re Married But I’ve Got Feelings Too.” All I knew was that there was more instrumentation on those songs than the eponymous record. But I knew she wouldn’t disappoint on Friday night.

Armed with just a guitar, and dressed in simple blouse and short skirt, Wainwright literally kicked up a storm with her raspy voice –alone. “I inherited it from my father,” she said, of the rhythmic, syncopated stomping she would use to accompany her songs. Apparently, amazing live performances are genetic — and Wainwright does her family proud. She played oldies like “Factory” and closed with a rushed version of “Bloody Motherfucking Asshole” (I think maybe because the show was all-ages, and it seemed she was slightly uncomfortable singing it.) But there were also renditions of “Bleeding All Over You” and “Jesus and Mary” — stripped down, unproduced and beautiful.

I was fully prepared to leave the theater by 9 p.m., but tiny KT Tunstall, ultra-charming in a ponytail, a silver, glittery tank top and a Scottish accent, knocked the wind out of me. I didn’t know any of her songs except for “Suddenly I See,” made famous in the movie The Devil Wears Prada. I figured it was all going to be poppy schmaltz. Instead, Tunstall hit the crowd over and over again with ballsy rock and roll, never once losing the crowd, and getting everyone to their feet dancing more than once.

LINKS:
Martha Wainwright’s Web site
KT Tunstall’s Web site