Guns N Roses

In the days leading up to this show, everyone, and I mean everyone I talked to had the same reaction. "Nah, you have fun with that, it's not the real Guns N Roses, I think I'll skip it." Being the concert optimist that I am, I thought, well, maybe Slash isn't there, or even a guy with a bucket on his head, but surely Axl will bring a show worth seeing. You might ask, "Why would you have so much faith in a guy who is infamous for being the biggest ass hole in rock history?" Now I am asking myself the same thing.

In what would become the theme of the evening, I spent the first hour in that arena waiting for Black Label Society to start. I figured, the ticket said 7:30, so showing up at around 8:15 would be a safe bet. Not so much. Finally, the B.L.S. started and after the first few seconds, I found myself, again, waiting for this load of crap to be over. When the opening band sucks, you figure its only 45 minutes to sit through. These guys didn't get the memo. Contrary to what they believed, no one was there to see over an hour of their cliche show. They pulled out every worn out hard rock stereotype, from the ten finger tap, to the drum stick twirl, to headbanging in front of their wall of Marshall stacks. With their 15 minute guitar noise solo session, I had enough time to catch most of the second half of the Lions Saints game out on the concourse, along with a couple hundred other people.

When they finally ended, it was on again with the waiting. Another solid hour went by before the newest version of Guns came on, and they started with some Chinese Democracy new crap. I thought "alright, cool, they got that crap out of the way and now it's on to "Welcome to the Jungle" and "Mr. Brownstone"." I thought the show was starting to change directions into the walk down rock memory lane that I had hoped for. Unfortunately, it turned into more waiting. I waited the next 45 minutes for those tatted up nobodies (not to mention the dork on congas and piano) to run through a half a dozen more new songs before hitting "Live and Let Die". When the next two songs were again, new crap, I spit on the floor and walked out. I don't care how nostalgic a live version of "Sweet Child O' Mine" could be, it's not worth sitting through this load of bull. Axl, Slash, Duff, Peter Pan, and freakin' Batman could play "November Rain" and it wouldn't be worth sitting through this. I'm sure they eventually got around to playing that and some other old ones, and I'd also bet that the damned sun was coming up when they did.

Guns N' Roses 2011 are a joke, and they are officially dead to me. Axl can go to hell, and Chinese Democracy can spend eternity in the crap dollar bin at Wal-Mart. Now I know why Slash and the rest of the original crew could not be less interested in rejoining Crap-sel Rose. I wouldn't listen to that dip shit bang cans on the sidewalk. Now I begin the next long wait, the one I'm actually looking forward to, the one where another 15 or 20 years go by before that ass hole is in my town again.

Wanda Jackson

Last night was a big one for a couple of reasons. Not only was I going to see Hall of Famer Wanda Jackson, I was going to see her in Nashville's newest venue, Marathon Music Works. This was their much anticipated big opening party. They had even given out hundreds of tickets to those who had participated in the contest to name the place, myself included. Even when I got to will call and my name wasn't on the free ticket list as expected, they still gave me a free pair and said "thanks for coming, have a good time." That was a pretty cool way to be in a situation where they could have been jerks. Being cool goes a long way with someone like me.

The new Marathon Music Works is exactly what Nashville needed. It's the venue that bridges the gap between places like Exit In and The Cannery that can hold five or six hundred people, and the Ryman and War Memorial auditoriums that hold a couple thousand. The wide open warehouse style can easily hold over a thousand people, and the crafty layout makes for easily accessible bars and bathrooms, as well as a great view of the stage from just about anywhere in the room. The sound was clear and plenty loud, and the light rig was just enough to make it look good, but not overpower the band. Overall this place gets an ecstatic two thumbs up from me. I can't wait to see more shows here.

The opening band was the Black Belles, a relatively new girl band who caught the eye of Jack White and got scooped up by Third Man Records. Their pale faces and dark eyeliner paired with all black dresses and wide brimmed black hats set the spooky tone for their macabre garage rock. They gave us a solid 45 minute set of crunchy, upbeat tunes that would have easily landed them in the Addams family's top five.

After a couple of sitings of the aforementioned Mr. White and fellow Raconteur Patrick Keeler, some "Soul Satisfying" spins from Johnny Jackson, and a nice little speech from Mayor Karl Dean, Ms. Jackson's band, The High Dollars, came out and got the show going with a couple of tunes sung by Heath Haynes. A few numbers into that, Ms. Wanda Jackson appeared to a huge ovation. She was all decked out in her frilly pink jacket and huge beehive hair, and she wasted no time pointing that little finger in the air and shakin' those hips. She rolled through old classics like "I Gotta Know", "Fujiyama Mama", and "Hard Headed Woman", and she even paid tribute to her old friend and brief sweetie Elvis Presley which included "Heartbreak Hotel". It was awesome. She then moved on to gush about the afore-aformentioned Jack White and the record they recently made together called The Party Ain't Over, and did some of those songs including "Shakin' All Over", and gave some heartfelt love to the late Amy Winehouse with her version of "You Know I'm No Good". By the time they finished with "Let's Have A Party", and encored with "Great Balls Of Fire", Ms. Jackson blew kisses and left the stage as gracefully as she had appeared.

It was truly an honor to finally get to see this national treasure perform. Her intersong banter was as charming as it was endearing, like having a rock and roll lunch with your sweet grandmother. She shared stories about accepting Christ as her savior, and she spilled the beans on Elvis being a good kisser. Whenever an artist introduces a song they were playing in 1954, it is a special occasion, and this night was full of those moments. Wanda Jackson's title of the Queen of Rockabilly is definitely deserved, and she lives up to it with grace and dignity, along with a little bit of sass and mischief.

Here Come The Mummies

The last installment of Live on the Green for the year turned into Live on the Scream, or Scream on the Green, or some other live screaming variation, complete with a Halloween costumed audience, and weirdness from our boys H-Beam and the always funky Here Come The Mummies.

There was another band that played first, but their Kings of Leon meets a depressed Muse emo pop made me head straight for the parking garage where my friend had locked his keys in his car. The stage was still more depressing, and less entertaining for that matter.

H-Beam on the other hand, made it clear from the get-go that they were going to give Nashville their full on assault of crazy characters and shenanigans, the likes of which the Green had never seen. Their Pig Lawyer, dancing Panda, and life sized Mustache all made appearances in skits and songs all night long. They even recruited a handful of hot zombies to dance during their rendition of Jacko's "Thriller". Among all this spectacle, the Beam sounded better than I have ever heard them sound. Curt Redding and Russell Wright have become the most solid rhythm section this band has seen, and Adam Livingston (from Boom Ticket) is melding nicely into the second guitar role. Andrew "Fantastic" fills every other roll with ease, and Matty "Banana" Walberg owned that Green stage. It was great to see H-Beam do what they do, on a huge stage in front of thousands of people, they were true to who they are and they did it well.

Not to be outdone, Here Come The Mummies came marching through the crowd drum line style wrapped head to toe in their usual mummy wrap. When they kicked into their first number, the crowd came alive. The party was on with the undead hosts blasting their funk tunes and waving their huge freak flag. The band consisted of mummy bass, guitar, keys, drums and a huge horny horn section, and their songs were chock full of sexy double entendre, as well as funny puns and party lines. The whole thing was an unadulterated good time. This was the perfect way to end another season of Live on the Green, and also a fun way to kick off Halloween 2011.

Weird Al Yankovic

Tonight's show was one that I had been anticipating for quite some time. Although I figured Weird Al at the Ryman probably wasn't going to knock my socks off, I knew it would be fun and unique, unlike anything I had seen before.

After acquiring a cheap ticket relatively quickly, I made my way inside and up to my usual perch in the balcony. I was relieved to see that on this night there was no opening act set up. Sometimes it's nice to not have to sit through a time filler before you get the goods. This development left me with ample time for people watching, which was great with such a colorful crowd. There were mom jeans and turtle necks galore, and weirdos from all ages. The wacky innocence from a crowd full of people who only go to about one show a year, and that show being Weird Al, made me feel like I was at a county fair in Topeka. They filed in brimming with youthful giddiness and handfuls of t-shirts, posters and popcorn.

The lights went down, and as I had quietly predicted, no one stood up. No one moved really. There was some polite applause, and a little yelling, but overall it was a very well behaved welcome. They launched into "Polka Face", a 2011 version of the "Polka Your Eyes Out" medley, with more recent parodies of Justin Beiber and Ladies Gaga and Antebellum, complete with bubbles and zoom whistles. There seemed to be a Nashville homer theme developing, with nods to Miley Cyrus, Taylor Swift, and even a jab at local hero Jack White.

While the songs, with their puns and silly rhymes were one thing, the stage production was quite another. Each number had costumes, wigs, and even some choreographed dance moves. The costume change time between songs was filled with filmed interviews with Pop celebs that were obviously edited for comedic appeal. "Al T.V." made Jessica Simpson, Madonna, and others look like idiots with clever questions and well timed cuts, and they also showed clips from just about every popular T.V. show in the past twenty years referencing Weird Al.

Every song was done all out. "Smells Like Nirvana" had the band members dressed just like the classic "Teen Spirit" video, and there were even a couple of grungy cheerleaders dancing around. After a complete "Amish Paradise" and a long medley of a half-a-dozen favorites, there was another Lady Gaga tune and a couple of hip-hop numbers that I didn't recognize before they ended with "Fat", complete with, you guessed it, the full fat suit. The encore started with eight Storm Troopers walking out on stage along with Darth Vader, and "The Saga Begins", the epic tale of the newer Star Wars films set to "American Pie". Then, as if to make full use of the characters, they finished with "Yoda", one of my favorite Al songs, about the little Jedi monster sung to the tune of "Lola". It was the perfect ending to a wild, wacky, wonderful, weird night.

Robert Randolph and the Family Band

It's that time of year again, end of the summer in Nashville, and that means Live On The Green is back. This year, the free outdoor live concert series boasted a less than stellar line up, but this week was the standout. I was excited to see the good ol' Family Band again, as well as interested in the other bands playing.

I arrived a couple of songs into Moon Taxi's set. They are from Nashville, and I haven't seen them since the Windows On The Cumberland days, but I had heard their new song and it had been stuck in my head all week. These guys really have come a long way in those couple of years. Their funky jam-pop was polished, and their singer's voice made the whole thing sound like what would happen if Kings Of Leon smoked a bone and just chilled out a little.

The next act was introduced as being "voted Knoxville's best band three years running", which to me was like being voted best chicken plucker, probably not a huge amount of competition. I guess you have to factor in the amount of fratties and such amongst the voting fan base. Within the first fifteen seconds of the first song, it was obvious that this was a blatant Black Crowes rip off. It was like if the Crowes replaced Chris Robinson with John Mellencamp, in both singing and songwriting, but Mellencamp still tried to emulate Robinson. I was overwhelmed with cheese ball lyrics about small towns, diners, work on the docks and the like, and the rest of the band was so vanilla and bland that it made Bruce Springsteen look like the Jimi at Woodstock. I say if they play LOTG again for the next two years, they would get my vote for worst band three years running.

Finally Robert Randolph and the Family Band came out, starting with R.R. ripping of a pedal steel solo that already made me forget about the previous band's rubbish. Once the rest of the Family Band kicked in, the party was on. Their jammy funk is a lot like another popular rock family, that of Sly Stone, but with more drawn out jams, and of course the insanely talented front man on the pedal steel guitar. Randolph's chops are up there with Stevie Ray Vaughn and Duane Allman, and the rest of the band hangs right in there, often trading instruments and shining. The whole thing is like a huge party at church, with tons of energy and six dollar beers.

The thing about this night was that the Family Band started off so strong, there wasn't really anywhere else to go. After the first few songs, to me at least, it just kind of became background music as I started to run into friends and socialize more. It was rockin', don't get me wrong, and a lot of the crowd was going nuts, but by the time the clock struck ten, I had been there for almost four hours and I was ready to go. It was indeed a successful Live on the Green, and I'm excited for at least one more pretty good one.

The Raconteurs

(This is the first picture I've posted that I actually took)

Imagine this. Your favorite band in the world has been on indefinite hiatus for the past two years. They announce a one-off festival show somewhere in Michigan, which turns into a couple more, including starting the whole thing off at the Ryman Auditorium in Nashville, which just happens to be the last place you saw them in '08. It was just like finding out that your favorite local band is back together, playing the same old haunt they used to play back then. Tickets sold out in minutes, and I was lucky enough to have gotten one.

Finally, finally, the night came and as hard as I tried not to, I still arrived pretty early. There were two opening bands which I didn't expect. The first was a vaudeville style old timey bluegrass outfit whose name I never caught. I spent the time during their set walking around. The opening act I was expecting were Nashville's own garage psych-punk duo JEFF The Brotherhood. Their set was good, full of bulldozing guitars and pounding drums, and songs that roared despite only being played by two dudes. They had a real thing going, and it was good to see them enjoy their recent success, but agian, I was still a ball of excited energy and spent most of their time pacing the back of the balcony.

After a switch over period that included music that was actually interesting, the Third Man suits vacated the stage, the lights went down, and the crowd went ape. This was it, the moment I had been waiting for since September '08. The Raconteurs took the stage and blasted into a noise bomb, which led to the beginning of "Consolers Of The Lonely", the title track from their second album. From then on, it was hit after hit as "Hands" led into my personal favorite, "Level". You could tell the boys were super stoked to be back, albeit a little rusty as Brendan Benson slipped up on the beginning of "Old Enough", but he recovered quickly with a huge smile. Nashville's favorite adopted son Jack White held the super charged crowd in his hands while he sang (in his own Jack White way) "Top Yourself", even letting us complete the big pay-off line, "DO IT TO YOU".

As the show set in, it was clear that the rhythm section of Patrick Keeler and Jack Lawrence was my favorite part of this band. Watching Keeler drum is like watching someone push a huge snowball from a wheelchair. He was just relentless, making me wonder how just one guy could make all that noise in songs like "Many Shades Of Black", and "Broken Boy Soldier", which has one of the sickest drum parts in rock history. And although he is small in stature, "Little" Jack's bass lines rival giants the likes of Johns Entwhistle and Paul Jones. These two combine to be the engine that drives the guitar train consisting of Jack White and Brendan Benson, each with their own unique style. It's not hard to see that these friends have been tight for years, long before the Raconteurs began, and even while on hiatus, playing with each other in various groups and projects.

They ended the set with "Blue Veins", the perfect bluesy number for "Big" Jack to freak out on guitar and really leave us wanting a strong encore. They did not disappoint. They hit us with "Salute Your Solution" and "Steady As She Goes" before ending with their epic saga "Carolina Drama", recounting the tale of Billy versus the evil boyfriend. Jack even played the last line, completely without amplification, having everyone in the crowd join in on "Go and ask the milk man." It gave me chills.

This show was as close as I've seen to a perfect 10. Granted, as I said before, it was my favorite band in the world and there were a few slip up moments, but the energy, venue, and band all combined for a concert that was just out of this world. And I say this having just seen Grace Potter just a handful of nights before. The energy and crowd-to-band relationship was right up there with The Flaming Lips, without, of course, the balloons and confetti. I felt privileged to be there and be able to one day tell the kids that I saw the Raconteurs at the Ryman, twice. With the mystery and randomness of all things Jack White, we have no way of knowing if it will be another open-ended aperture, or if we will see a new full record and tour. Obviously, I'm holdin' out for the latter, but history shows us that the best ones always leave us wanting more.

Grace Potter and the Nocturnals

First off, I have to wish Shows Big And Small a belated second birthday. It's been a great couple of years and I've seen some incredible shows, as well as some not so good ones. One thing that hasn't changed is my love for live music, be it in an arena, at a festival, or in a local club or coffee house. I love going to shows and I love giving my take on them, and I also love any debate that my opinion may spark. I realize that not everyone will agree with every post, and I'm always open for discussion. So here's to another year full of live music in Nashville, including the big 100th show, whatever it may be.

That being said, last night's Grace Potter show at the Ryman was one of those ones that became an instant classic, up there with Sir Paul, and The Lips. This was one of those shows where I went down and bought a ticket for full price, the day they went on sale, not wanting to gamble on a last minute sidewalk score. I had seen Miss Grace (as she will be henceforth christened) at Bonnaroo a couple of years ago on a side stage in the middle of the afternoon and I remember that set being one of the best of the weekend. I knew this was gonna be good.

I arrived at my aisle seat in the balcony as the openers were finishing their first song. I had seen the Carolina Chocolate Drops open for Old Crow Medicine show a couple of years ago and I remembered being unmoved back then. Last night however, I think I got just plain irritated. At least being paired with Old Crow put them in the right genre, as an old timey string band with tinges of bluegrass and ragtime. When I arrived ready to rock and was met instead with kazoo solos and some sloppy side mouth voice trumpet I was unnerved, and then when they started beat boxing, I shook my head and walked out. If I'm at the fairgrounds for a chili cook-off, then fine, bring on the Drops. But at a rock show like the Nocturnals, don't give me that crap. Next time they're on the bill, I think I'll just stay at the Honkey Tonk a little longer.

When the lights when down, I fully expected the band to come out and start playing before Miss Grace came out. I was pleasantly surprised to see the opposite happen. She came out alone with a white Flying V and played the intro to one of my favorites, "Nothing But The Water" before the rest of the band came out and finished the song. By the end of the first verse I had already moved to the walkway in the back of the balcony. I don't know if the Drops sucked the energy out of the place or if the Mother Church was still asleep from the previous night's gig, but I was already getting sneers for being the only one in the balcony standing up. This lack of energy continued until Miss Grace finally said "Come on, why don't y'all stand up" and everyone woke up and got into it.

I couldn't understand how anyone could sit still. The Nocturnals were smokin', much like what would happen if Heart and The Black Crowes had a rock baby. The dual guitar attack of Scott Tournet and Benny Yurco was flawless and the rhythm section shook the place with Matt Burr's power drumming and the sultry Catherine Popper on bass. Their onstage chemistry and feel for dynamics blended perfectly with Miss Grace's work, both on guitar and Hammond B-3. Whether they were crooning ballads like "Apologies" or rocking out on "Goodbye Kiss", they nailed it. Even when the rhythm section left the stage, the remaining guitarists played a moving acoustic section which included Gillian Welch's "Elvis Presley Blues".

After finishing the set with a blistering number I couldn't identify, they came back for the encore starting with ZZ Top's "Tush". Then, when she started talking about requests, someone yelled out "Tequila", referencing her duet with Kenny Chesney. She obliged, and just when I thought she wasn't a hundred percent perfect, she told the story of Chesney informing her of a CMA nomination only to reply "What the heck is a CMA?" So awesome. They finished up the show with two big hitters, "Paris" and "The Medicine", and left the Ryman in shambles.


I still don't think I've adequately described just how talented Grace Potter is. She didn't just play that organ, she laid down some of the funkiest grooves of the night. Her energy was incredible as she shook and jived all over the stage, and her voice, it was perfect from those low pitch croons to the high squeals and everything in between. Also, it didn't hurt that she had those legs in a dress that Tina Turner would call short. This girl, and band for that matter, is everything that is right in Rock and Roll. I know most of America won't pick up on these guys, but the ones who know anything about good music will catch on and The Nocturnals will become another one of those bands that keeps packing festivals and theaters and rocking those who are smart enough to be there.