Tag Archives: dave matthews band

Serendipitous Blogging & Stifle III

Last Sunday’s post discussed frustrations with social media. The next day I happened upon this article touching on a similar, albeit more specific topic: live-tweeting.

I intended to rail against live-tweeting in last week’s article, but by the time I remembered to do so I was ready to be done with that particular entry. Although Daniel Carlson’s article centers around television, his complaints apply universally. A common, though perhaps less ubiquitous, phenomenon in music is the live-tweeting of setlists. While this occurs mostly with pop music, other styles aren’t exempt. NPR Music’s classical and jazz branches occasionally live-tweet setlists (or, rather, “programs”) from The Village Vanguard or Carnegie Hall. I just don’t get it. Are there folks sitting at home with the entire Chopin catalogue on standby, listening to whatever nocturnes and polonaise is tweeted next? (And to the many sources that live-tweeted Bruce Springsteen’s SXSW keynote address as he gave it: don’t do that again. Just publish a transcript afterwards.)

The closest I get to this as a consumer is my checking DMB’s setlist each night of a tour. Full disclosure: I’ve been doing this since 2000, and both the band and unofficial site provide real-time setlists online. But I don’t need the songs as they happen.

Once, unfortunately, I was on an end similar to the dreaded live-tweeter. At the 06.13.09 DMB show at Saratoga, NY’s SPAC – one of the absolute best DMB shows I’ve attended – I experienced my first “Halloween.” With the exception of 1992-4 and an unexpected run in 2008, this song is one of the band’s white whales (along with “Spoon” – still waiting to see that one live…). I’ve only seen it twice live, and the first didn’t happen until my 39th show. I absolutely LOST IT when they busted it out as a surprise encore. After my screaming and convulsing – dancing is too classy of word for what I was doing – I had to text all my friends who I thought would care. In my excitement and need to spread my joy via phone, I ended up missing a portion of this song I had waited so many years to see. And while I can relive DMB’s performance via audience tape, there’s a chunk of my excitement I cannot relive because I was staring at my phone. While I was never one to really text or anything during a rock concert before that night – I’ve never done the call-and-hoist-the-phone routine, and I never leave my phone on during classical or jazz performances – I’ve all but cut it out of my concert-going experiences since then. I’d rather be in the moment than on the network.

And when I saw “Halloween” again last year at The Gorge I didn’t grab for the phone – I sang and danced with my friends. That memory is much more intact.

“Halloween” @ SPAC 06.13.09

 

“Halloween” @ The Gorge 09.04.11
You can look for the back of my head in the pit. I was right under the chain of glow sticks, stage right… 🙂

MTH-V: DMB 1992

I wanted to post this video last week for timing, but decided to wait and see the whole thing first (it’s LONG). Last Monday (02.13.12), Antsmarching.org tweeted this gem to commemorate its twentieth anniversary. It is the earliest circulating (mostly) full-length video of Dave Matthews Band in concert. Watching it over the last week has been a real treat. If you don’t know by now (or if you recently started following this blog), I’m a DMB fanatic. Between owning their entire output and more, seeing them 54 times and counting in concert throughout the country, and being able to fill a small closet with all of the apparel and merchandise I’ve purchased and collected throughout the years, I really should own stock in the band. 🙂

This week’s video is perhaps the most niche of the MTH-V series – serious DMB fans will get the biggest kick out of this. I try to take a generalist approach to most of these, but this is too good to pass by. Although some previous posts – e.g., ICTUS and Trio Mediæval – featured more specialized styles, they were at least clean and relatively produced recordings. This may be DMB, but it’s a 102-minute scratchy VHS transfer of a then-local band. This show took place at Virginia’s Bridgewater College. There’s a neat story about the video and performance, as well as a scan of the show’s poster, by a member of the other band that performed that night here.

As I mentioned, this was brought to my attention by Antsmarching.org, the biggest fan-site for DMB. While I have many strong philosophical disagreements with the various orthodoxies espoused by the site’s moderators, the site itself is an undeniably wonderful source of information. Want to know how many times “Best of What’s Around” has been performed, in what cities, at which point in each concert, and how rare a live performance is in comparison with others in the catalogue? Just look it up. (I love all of the hard data; I just wish they’d give the op-eds a rest. But that’s another post for another day. I’m still happy to have been a member for well over a decade now.)

Some notes on this video since it’s such a lengthy one – I’ll point out some highlights for those without the time/interest to watch the whole thing or freely browse. While some of these might be old hat to other die-hard Ants, it’s still worth mentioning here, as 1) it’s nice to have video evidence of the things heard on many tapes, and 2) this is likely new for many regular readers:
• Love this.
• It is GREAT to have such a nice video documentation of a lot of early LeRoi Moore. While the more hardline jazz influence is evident in a couple places, you already start to hear the direction he eventually went (that of a rock/pop musician as opposed to a “jazz saxophonist”). His solos on “Best of What’s Around,” “Recently,” and “Jimi Thing” are especially choice.
• Speaking of which, that “Jimi” outro is hip…maybe they should bring it back… 🙂
• The video lasts for almost 80 minutes, with the final 22 being audio-only.
• The band at this time included original keyboardist Peter Greisar. The duo performance of “So Much to Say” by Dave and Peter is a nice early glimpse into the song.
•  For those who enjoyed the mid-2000s “Louie Louie” interpolations at the end of “Warehouse,” here’s an early incarnation.
•  Hearing the juxtaposition of a much-slower “Best of What’s Around” and brisk “Satellite” is an odd switch. Although I think the latter is more due to nerves. (If only they would have played “After Her” instead…)
• Even though the band is still quite young (not two years old), it’s evident they’re already a unit. Keep in mind that their first performance was in March or April of 1991, less than one year prior. Armed with a catalogue of mostly original material (with a few tasteful covers thrown in for good measure), they musically give each other space and keep the audience on energized and engaged throughout. No wonder they’ve been the highest-grossing live act in recent pop history. Even though the tempo gets weird in a number of songs, Carter does his best to keep the band’s nerves in check back there.
• Again, great video evidence to illustrate the anecdotes of fans occasionally thinking Boyd Tinsley was Dave Matthews, as Boyd was initially more comfortable with between-song banter and crowd work than Dave.
• Speaking of which, Boyd gets two vocal numbers: “Angel From Montgomery” and “True Reflections.” They’re both quite rare in live performance nowadays, but luckily I’ve seen them both. “Angel From Montgomery” is especially elusive.
• Interesting introductory banter about the band and their material by Dave, then one of my favorites: “The Song That Jane Likes.” Enough said. 🙂

NOTE: Embedding functionality for this particular video has understandably been disabled, but you may view the whole thing here.

MTH-V: Jeff Coffin w. DMB compilation

I mentioned in the Marcus Miller post from two weeks ago that Jeff Coffin liked music that moved him via his heart, head, rear end, or all three. For over a decade Coffin has been not only one of my favorite saxophonists, but one of my favorite musicians. Without getting too sentimental here, his playing consistently cuts to my core. It’s deep, complex, “out,” and yet maintains an overall “pop” sensibility that ties it all together. Sure, he can be wailing on extensions or multiphonics, but if he’s doing that then he’s backing it up with a solid rhythmic foundation that’ll keep most people tapping their toes regardless.

Briefly, in case you’re saying, “Who’s Jeff Coffin?”: A UNT grad, he originally gained recognition after joining Béla Fleck & The Flecktones in 1997. Since then he’s also released a number of (unfortunately) little-known yet amazing solo albums (I have them all). In 2008, he joined the Dave Matthews Band to replace LeRoi Moore after his sudden injury and eventual death that summer. (Being a DMB fanatic, imagine my guilt of always wanting to see Coffin sit in with DMB, only to have it actualized via Roi’s departure and passing…)

This week’s video is a compilation of Jeff’s solos from Dave Matthews Band’s performance at Rothbury 2008. He had sat in as a guest with DMB sporadically since 1998, but this was his fourth show as the full-time/only saxophonist after joining the band with a day’s notice. The video was snagged from a live feed that was broadcast during the festival, and it’s a great compilation featuring his solos on the following songs, in order: “Seek Up,” “Grey Street,” “#41,” “Jimi Thing,” and a small clip of “Anyone Seen The Bridge?” (with the Strauss interpolation). It’s also a great compilation because I of course attended the show, and remember it like it was yesterday. 🙂

A little treat, here’s a video I was lucky to stumble upon a few years ago of Jeff sitting in with DMB on “Two Step” in April 2002. This had long been one of my favorite solos I acquired from the taping community, so imagine my surprise when the video eventually surfaced! Throughout the song, Béla and all of the Flecktones sit in, but this clip is Coffin’s solo only. (I recommend watching the whole thing if you have time.) In under three minutes, he covers all the musical bases. (And imagine my frustration that this occurred on 04.21.02 – I saw them on 04.23.02 and 04.26.02. Oh well, the shows were still great. :))

Evolution

A few weeks ago I finally picked up Radiohead’s quickly-(in)famous King of Limbs. I’d been wanting to give it a listen since its initial (surprise) digital release. (However, being a stickler for always wanting a hard copy, I opted to patiently wait until the physical release.) My primary interest stemmed from my being a longtime fan. Another part of me, though, wanted to see what all the hubbub was about – Facebook and the Twitterverse were blowing up with very mixed reviews. Most critics lauded the effort, with fans going in many directions. Friends and colleagues were in quite the tizzy. Six weeks later I finally got my chance – I love it! I gave it two careful listens that first day, and a number of others since, and my fondness has only increased.

But this isn’t a “New Listen” review…

I’m continually amazed by fans’ feeling betrayed by an artist’s (in this case, band’s) natural evolution. (Yes, I’m certainly aware that everyone can’t be a total fan of everything, but this concerns active fans.) Of course, an artist can unexpectedly change course – for reasons personal, commercial, or otherwise – and cause an uproar, the response to which could be perfectly understandable. However, often times, when discussing those heavies with long careers and extended catalogues, change is almost always inevitable. In fact, my personal Top 5 – TOOL, Dave Matthews Band, Miles Davis, John Coltrane, Smashing Pumpkins – is united by their collective tendency to evolve over time. Some had smoother transitions than others – TOOL and Trane are/were smoother overall than Miles – but each one’s arc can be heard as one sonic narrative, with each new phase or “sound” including both an element of the “core” sound and an aspect of picking up where they last left off (even if it’s somewhat of a reaction to a previous approach).

Like the aforementioned Top 5, Radiohead also continually evolves. Succinctly describing their most recent release, I would say: King of Limbs is Radiohead’s next logical step after In Rainbows. Now, that doesn’t really mean anything to the passive fan, but those familiar with the whole Radiohead catalogue should understand that this denotes: more effects and electronics, less traditional instrumentation and form, more experimentation. Radiohead started with a definitive early-90s anthem (“Creep”), pivoted with a slightly more progressive but wildly commercially successful album (OK Computer), then forcefully proceeded down the avenue of electronic experimentation (Kid A through present). I could understand someone enjoying OK Computer in somewhat of a vacuum and being dumbfounded by King or even Amnesiac (these two are probably my favorites, FYI). But, if you were to listen to all of their albums in succession, you would most likely hear a single band slowly transforming.

A primary grievance is that the new album is too down-tempo. Did anyone really expect an anthemic rocker after the last few albums? Seriously? Many await another OK Computer. I can understand that to a certain extent, however that was their third album. King of Limbs is their EIGHTH studio album. They’re far beyond that stage, for good or ill. For those who felt betrayed, the “betrayal” occurred not in 2011, but rather gradually over the last decade. Similarly, Miles and Trane continually evolved. Those who expected Coltrane to play “Locomotion” in ’66 or ’67 were gravely mistaken, and likely walked out of performances and stopped buying his albums. He had moved beyond the blues – moved beyond swing – by that point. And was it that he no longer liked “that old stuff”? No. He simply transcended all earlier endeavors and was progressing beyond jazz to something greater. Returning to “Syeeda’s Song Flute” would have been a stifling distraction. The same is happening here.

Art, and the artists who create it, evolve. Just like everything else. You don’t have to like everything an artist does, not by a long shot. However, at the same token, don’t be surprised if, after 5 or 10 or 20 years, they have moved on to a different place.