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... And disappointment for all

I do like my novelty rock, but I have one requirement for this kind of music: it has to be at least somewhat listenable even without its satirical context. Which is to say, Richard Cheese is actually a decent lounge act on top of being the king of Vegas-style pop parody. And though Schlong’s Punk Side Story kind of sucks on its own, it’s the kind of suck that punk often is, and therefore I like it in spite of – or maybe because of – its suckiness.

Enter …And Christmas for All, The Holiday Tribute to Metallica (Christmas Rock Records, 2007), a yuletide-style orchestral arrangement of Metallica tunes like “Nothing Else Matters” and “Master of Puppets.” I really wanted to like this album. I like Christmas music. I like Metallica. I even liked the other two albums in what seems to be a trilogoy of Metallica-themed novelty rock coming into my life this month (Beatallica and Harptallica). But with the notable exception of an imaginative and uplifting (OK, more accurately, a sort-of interesting) version of “The Unforgiven,” this album falls completely flat in the stands-alone category. In fact, it’s so predictable and boring – the musical equivalent of beige – that even the delight of picking out classic Metallica riffs isn’t enough to make me listen to this more than once. Ever.  (And this from the girl who put $900 on her credit card to see a jokey lounge act in Vegas on New Year’s Eve – so no, I’m not being a music snob.)Andchristmas

It really is too bad. If only the label had gone the way of Harptallica's self-recorded album, they would’ve done alright. That compilation, a very simple recording of virtuosic harps players doing – yup, you guessed it – Metallica themes, sounds more authentically, classically Christmasy than …And Christmas and its cheesy, overwrought sleighbell sounds. (By the way, what is that annoying percussion instrument that sounds like beating a box with a wooden spoon that seems to be everywhere in bad mall music? 'Cuz there’s plenty of that here.) Plus, Harptallica doesn’t make me want to vomit on my shoes. (I wonder if that’s the way my friends feel when I make them listen to all the other novelty rock I love? Hmmm…)

So here we have another case of good idea, bad execution. Oh well. At least there are sure to be another 5,000 reinterpretations of “Wherever I May Roam” to choose from in my lifetime. A gypsy-punk accordion version, anyone?

December 18, 2007 in Music | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)

The Cribs

My blog post for The Guardian about The Cribs.

May 02, 2007 in Music, SF Bay Guardian | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)

Watch This. Ready? Ok Go.

If you've already seen this, you know why I had to post it.

If you haven't, boy are you in for something good.

And if this doesn't crack your shit up, I'm sorry but you have no soul.


(BTW, if you're really sick, click here.)

November 11, 2006 in Geek Stuff, Music | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)

Oh Baby, Baby

Britney46Right this second, I'm sitting in a living room in Long Beach listening to rock n rollers (one in a black T-Imagesshirt with the sleeves cut off, the other with longer hair than me, neither particularly big fans of pop music) jamming their own version of Britney Spears' One More Time.

My life rocks.

November 03, 2006 in Music, Regular ol' blog posts | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)

My sister rocks. No, really.

Anyone who's talked to me for more than, say, twenty seconds has probably hea1073586261_lrd me talk about my sister, Sally : She's so cool blah blah blah she plays in a band blah blah blah she knows Tommy Lee blah blah blah.

But I'm sure most of those people dismiss and/or forget what I've told them because:

a. they assume my sister, just like just about everyone in Southern California, is in some kind of not-great-but-not-bad hobby band that's destined to go nowhere; and

b. they assume I'm only impressed because she's my sister.

Thing is, those people are wrong. Or, at least, you could make a good case for why they're wrong. Her band, Poets and Pornstars, is actually good. Objectively, undeniably good. And I'm not the only one who thinks so. A few months ago, they were chosen to open for Bon Jovi at the Anaheim Pond, a venue that seats 10,000 people. And just this week, they won a Battle of the Bands whose prize is to play Inland Invasion, the KROQ-sponsored megafestival featuring Guns n Roses and Alice in Chains.

Impressed yet? You should be. And then, once you're done musing on how cool Sally actually is, and therefore how cool I am by association (and the fact that I'm sure my pinning her down as a kid and pretending to spit in her hair 1138179533_l helped give her the strength and attitude to be the badass she now is), you should listen to her band get interviewed on KROQ at 8am Friday morning. And/or see them at the show Saturday at 2pm. Or watch it on a live webcast at www.kroq.com starting at 4pm.

I'd be there, 'cept I'm so busy. Because I'm in Spain. Have I mentioned that? Yeah, our lives suck. Hard.

September 22, 2006 in Music, Regular ol' blog posts | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)

Not all cute shoes are Froggy Galoshes

(I wrote this almost a month ago and forgot to post it. So sue me.)

And while we're on the subject of shoes, I'd like to mention my day, of which shoes played a major part.

Today I went to one of those radio station-sponsored multi-band music festivals featuring one-hit-wonders and the pre-teens who love them. I wouldn't have gone at all except that a work associate had free tickets.

In the old days (meaning ten years ago, when I was in high school), I often went to things like this. I'm not sure how much I liked them -- I always seem to remember being bored and tired. But I always dressed appropriately: sensible shoes, warm layers, make-up that wouldn't run. And I always managed to feel invisible. There were always the girls with more punk rock T-shirts, or the ones with tube tops and cute jeans. There was always someone two rows ahead of me who seemed to be living my summer concert romance fantasy, while I was stuck in my comfy baggy T-shirt and frizzy curly hair.

So today I decided I would move beyond that awkward teenager. Knowing that we'd have VIP seats, and that our chances of moving from them was pretty small, I decided to choose fashion over function. I wore my black round-toe frilly heels from Shooz,Img_9382 my favorite pair of non-galoshes shoes, and probably the cutest damn high heels I have ever had in my possession.

I realized the mistake within minutes of arriving at the Santa Barbara bowl. As I'd predicted, the shoes weren't exactly practical for hiking up the ashpalt hill to the ampitheater. But as I hadn't predicted, their inherent cuteness didn't make up for the
things I don't tend to like about such shows: the hours that drag on, the way so many bands (even good ones) seems to sound the same after that much time, the way I end up comparing myself to cute girls half my size (as I always did) and half my age (a new perk of being over 25), and the self-loathing I feel when I realize how truly not punk rock I actually am for thinking these things instead of jumping head first into the mosh pit (or beer garden).

So what that meant was I was tired, bored, engaging in some good old-fashioned self-esteem bashing, AND my feet hurt. A lot. All day.

The first time I showed my fashionista sister these shoes, she warned me they'd hurt and I'd have to bear it. The first time I wore them, I sent her a text message saying she was right. She wrote back, half jokingly:

Beauty is pain, my friend. Suck it up. Keep an eye on the prize!

I thought of this as I left the concert early, toddling down the hill towards the parking lot. And I thought of it as I took the damn shoes off and carried them as I walked, barefoot, the rest of the way home. Funny thing is, I was still happy to have them in my hands. The only thing better would have been to be wearing a T-shirt that said "Look at my cute shoes!"

July 30, 2006 in Fashion, Music, Pop Culture, Regular ol' blog posts | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)

Top 6 Reasons You're Bummed You Missed L.I.B.

(published SBIndie 7/27/06)

With three stages, an idyllic forest location at the Live Oak Campground, nearly 1,000 enthusiastic and creatively clad revelers from up and down the West Coast, and all the accelerated bonding that happens between people who sleep, eat, and consume massive amounts of alcohol together, July 14-16’s Lightning in a Bottle was every bit the “magical forest adventure” its organizers claimed it would be. Here are six reasons you should be sorry you missed it.

1. The Yard Dogs Road Show: This freakshow puts every other burlesque and vaudeville act to shame. Their performance – complete with sword-swallowing, a jailhouse striptease, bellydancing, topnotch lounge-singing, and a David Bowie look-alike, proved the San Francisco troupe is only getting better, funnier, and more professional.

2. DJ Naise: This Australian beatboxer, who moonlights as the guitarist for a band that plays the Warped Tour, managed to work the word “mayonnaise” into his freestyle rap when most of us couldn’t say anything other than “I’m hot” or “I’m drunk.”

3. The Tree House Dome: In this forest-themed dance space that debuted at Coachella, DJs with good sense resisted the temptation to play loud, monotonous oom-pah-oom-pah music all day, instead bowing to the superior god of variety. Michelle Bass, Ooah, Cheb I Sabbah, and others delivered downbeat electronica in the morning, danceable hip-hop in the afternoon, ethereal worldbeat at dusk, and a smattering of butt-rock metal throughout the day that had even the hippiest of the hippies headbanging in their campsites.

4. The Vendors: One of the nice things about a Burning Man-style festival that isn’t Burning Man is you can actually buy stuff you forgot. The down side? The multiple tents selling insta-burner playawear speed the process of even “alternative” dressers looking alike. The plus side? Delicious all-raw sandwiches that completely destroyed the suspicion that “raw food” means subsisting solely on salad.

5. The Artist Formerly Known as Christian the Blacksmith: This L.A.-based artist, now working with clay instead of metal, was responsible for a number of the weekend’s delights. Not only did he provide a space for making clay beer cozies and sculpture inspired by the children’s book Everybody Poops, but he ran around all weekend in his striped man-shorts and a child-sized Budweiser bib.

6. Billie, the Camp Quality Inspector: This mulletted performance artist in jean shorts and an American flag-themed halter top informed us that our camp wasn’t decorated enough. Furthermore, our tents and chairs had too much of an “autumn color” theme. She promised to return with paper and pastel markers so we could add some elements from the “spring palette.” She never did return, but she did leave a red, white, and blue air freshener that did wonders for warding off the scent of patchouli.

July 28, 2006 in Arts, Music, SB Independent | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)

Musical Vision

Cover_1 (published in Ventana Monthly Magazine in June 2006)

The Ojai Music Festival turns 60 and celebrates with a dizzyingly diverse program

There’s no place like Ojai: the idyllic landscape, the eclectic culture, the urban sensibility combined with rural lifestyle, and the spectrum of residents from low-income farm workers to millionaire filmmakers.

Which is why it makes sense that the city’s namesake music festival is also one of a kind. For 60 years, it’s been known in music circles as one of the most innovative, creative festivals around, thanks to multi-dimensional programming that encompasses composers from Bach tCulture01o Boulez, genres from Baroque to Balinese gamelan, and guest artists from Aaron Copland and Igor Stravinsky to Peter Sellars (who staged Stravinksy’s Histoire du soldat with a cast of inner-city actors in 1992).

In fact, the history of the festival’s offerings reads like a Who’s Who and What’s What of contemporary music: quite a reputation for this year’s 60th anniversary festival to live up to when it returns June 8 through June 11.

(Music director Robert Spano brings the Atlantic. Photo by Andrew Eccles.)

But artistic director Tom Morris and music director Robert Spano aren’t balking at the challenge. In fact, they’ve relished it as an opportunity to experiment with programming. And the result is a line-up that’s dizzying in its depth, breadth and bravery, covering ground from the Atlanta Symphony Orchestra and Atlanta Symphony Orchestra Chamber Chorus doing Bach’s Dona Nobis Pacem from B Minor Mass, to one of Brazil’s leading singers presenting folk tunes with a solo guitarist.

The daring nature of the schedule is due in large part to the vision of both Morris, who was the executive director at the Cleveland orchestra before taking over at the Ojai Music Festival in 2004, and Spano, who Morris chose as this year’s musical director.

“He has wide and eclectic taste. He’s got energy,” said Morris, who has known Spano for years. “I thought that this would be somebody perfect for Ojai.”

Morris also knew Spano could handle the challenge of taking on such a feat. Not only has Spano been musical director for the Grammy award-winning Atlanta Symphony Orchestra for five years, but he also directed the prestigious Festival of Contemporary Music at Tanglewood in 2003 and 2004, with great results.

“He has a real natural brain for what a festival is,” said Morris. “He thinks about the entity of the festival … he has some sense of organic cohesion.”

Of course, Spano would bring the Atlanta Symphony Orchestra and Chamber Chorus with him. And Osvaldo Golijov, the innovative Argentinian artist Musical America named 2006 Composer of the Year and whose work Spano has long supported, seemed an obvious choice for the festival’s focus.

“He’s a very versatile composer in terms of musical language,” said Spano, pointing out that Golijov’s work engages world, folk and indigenous music from Spanish, Latin American and Jewish traditions, among others — a fact due in no small part to Golijov’s eclectic heritage as the Argentinian son of Jewish immigrants from Eastern Europe. “There’s African drumming, there’s Cuban drumming, there’s klezmer in his world.”

Spano wanted to include Golijov’s one-act opera Ainadamar, to be performed on Friday, June 9, which meant inviting worldclass soprano Dawn Upshaw, who sang the role of Margarita Xirgu when the show opened in 2003. And of course, it made sense to have Dawn sing Golijov’s Grammy-nominated song cycle Ayre, to be performed on Sunday, June 11. It only seemed natural, then, to invite eighth blackbird, the sextet known as one of the premier music groups in the world , “because of their capacity to do the Ayre series better than anyone else,” said Spano.

The festival’s programming continued to unfold in this organic, but untraditional way. With eighth blackbird already in Ojai, Spano figured he’d have them perform in the Opera in Concert performance on Friday too. And once he’d decided to present Golijov’s cantata Oceana and bring star Brazilian singer Luciana Souza to do it, it seemed natural to have Souza, known as a jazz singer but renowned for her flexibility, perform Brazilian folk songs with guitarist Romero Lubabmbo on Saturday and, on Sunday, El Amor Brujo in a flamenco style that’s unusual for the traditionally operatic piece.

The rest of the line-up is just as dizzying: The Atlanta Symphony Orchestra Chamber Chorus will sing an a cappella program on Saturday. On Friday night, sound sculptor and MacArthur “Genius” award-winner Trimpin will play a Nancarrow piano piece on an instrument he invented. There is a symposium about the search for distinction in music festivals and another about Golijov’s music.

Meanwhile, the Ojai Valley Museum will host a concurrent art exhibit featuring artifacts of festivals past and more of Trimpin’s work, and the Ojai Playhouse will screen a documentary about Betty Freeman, one of the most influential patrons of contemporary music.

The final line-up is largely the result of a meeting Spano and Morris had two years ago. Though Spano knew of the festival’s reputation and had already agreed to direct the 2006 season, he’d never set foot in Ventura County’s Shangri-La. When he finally visited, he was so blown away that the city itself became a major inspiration for the programming.

“I was flipped out, it’s so beautiful … It’s a very magical place,” said Spano, who sat down with Morris almost immediately to start planning. Though they’ve made changes in the program as recently as six months ago, about 80 percent of the final schedule was decided during that meeting. “When we got seated in Ojai and were drinking in the air Culture03… ideas started going crazy because of the location,” he said.

Morris is especially pleased with the results, saying the festival adheres to Ojai’s fundamental belief in “a sense of adventure, a sense of journey, and a sense of wide contrasts,” perfectly exemplified in the contrast on Saturday night between the nightclub feel of Souza and Lubambo’s folk songs with the following “unbelievable harpsichord concerto.”

“It’s going to be a very exciting ride,” said Morris.


(The music of Ozvaldo Golijov
will be the focus of the 2006 festival.
Photo by Sara Evans.)

Of course, this may all sound like gibberish to classical music’s newcomers. Some might even wonder if a festival like this has anything to offer someone who’s never heard of the Brooklyn Philharmonic, which Spano led to critical acclaim, or the Seattle Opera, where Spano conducted three cycles of Wagner’s Der Ring des Niebelungen last year.

Spano’s answer is a resounding “absolutely.” Though the festival program will surely get the hearts of classical music veterans racing, Spano says newcomers shouldn’t be intimidated to show up too.

“I think often people get an idea in their heads that they need to know something, some piece of information, [to enjoy or understand music], and I just don’t believe that,” he said. Sure, knowing a lot about a particular piece of music or a particular conductor may enhance your experience of the festival. But not knowing doesn’t mean you won’t enjoy it. All you have to do, he said, is “be open, interested and unafraid.”

Which, again, is nothing new for progressive, experimental Ojai. It’s part of what makes the city — and this festival — so great, said Morris and Spano.

“I was very proud of Tanglewood … but you wouldn’t find this range of music there,” said Spano. “I have not seen any other festival like this. Ever.”

The 60th Annual Ojai Music Festival runs June 8 through June 11. For more information call 646-2094 or visit www.ojaifestival.org.
06-01-2006

June 01, 2006 in Arts, Music, Ventana Monthly Magazine | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)

Coachella, The Festival: Variations on a Theme

Yes, I went to Coachella this year. And yes, I wrote about it. In fact, I reviewed it for two publications, with two different word count requirements. See below the short, tight, economical version in the SB Independent, or scroll down for the longer version in the alt weekly where I used to be a senior arts writer and editor, the VC Reporter. (Or, of course, just click the links and read 'em on line.)

Photo Envy of the Week
Santa Barbara Independent, 5/4/06


Capturing Coachella

I’ve always envied concert photographers: Not only do they go to shows for free, but they get the best seats. So when I realized my photographer boyfriend wasn’t coming to Coachella with me, and therefore his photo pass was up for grabs, I jumped at the chance to see how the other half lives. After years of festival frustration made up of heat and crowds and distance from the stage, I’d finally have the Coachella experience I’d always wanted.

Or so I thought. As it turns out, the other half doesn’t live quite as glamorously as I’d thought. The pit between the stage and the barrier is a strange place. For starters, it’s mostly men. And those men have really big cameras with even bigger lenses. Cowering there with my $100 Canon, I felt a little like the only boy in the junior high locker room who hasn’t hit puberty.

By the time Cat Power started, though, I wasn’t worried about the size of my equipment. I was too busy maneuvering around other photographer’s heads and arms and cameras to get a good shot, all the while trying not to get in the way of anyone else’s photographs. It was even worse at Depeche Mode, where videographers were on risers in front of me. I was lucky if I could see David Gahan’s foot, much less get an in-focus photo of him doing something interesting.

It was so distracting I hardly heard the music at all. And by the time three songs had passed and I was forced back out the chute and into the field, I was exhausted from all the striving and concentrating and fighting off testosterone. Maybe Coachella is best left to the professionals: those with the newest driver’s licenses, those with VIP passes, and those with the longest lenses. Next year I think I’ll stay home and watch the DVD.

Coachella_chaninblue Img_9358 (Two of my favorite of the photos I took  - the left because it's Chan Marshall and she rocks. And the other because that's JUST what my view was like during Depeche Mode. Plus, I have a thing for gothic fairy industrial rockers.)

Or if you didn't like that version, try this one...

A Snapshot of Coachella
Ventura County Reporter, 5/4/06
And after three years at Coachella, I can say it’s no different than most music festivals, except the stakes are higher: higher temperatures, better bands, more expensive beer, more innovative art. With a lineup reading like a list of this year’s critically acclaimed commercial hits and new cult favorites — it spanned multi-platinum icon Madonna to myspace phenomenon Octopus Project — Coachella sets up expectations that are pretty hard to meet.

Which is why, every year, I debate whether or not I’m going to go. On the con side? It’s hot and sweaty and crowded and exhausting. It’s almost a four-hour drive, not including the hour waiting to get into the parking lot. With big bands, you’re so far away from the stage you can’t see them. And while you’re busy checking out a band sure to be next year’s White Stripes in the Gobi tent, you’re probably missing the actual White Stripes on the Main Stage.

But on the other side, there’s Nine Inch Nails. The Pixies. Radiohead? Or, this year, Depeche Mode and Cat Power and Tool and The Walkmen. So I went.

It was just as Coachella always is. Beautiful. Picturesque. A cultural moment. But still, after three years of attending, just a festival. And as such, I was getting bored, which was too pathetic for me to accept. So I decided to entertain myself by making use of the photo pass I’d snagged when my photographer boyfriend decided not to come with me. I’d always envied concert photographers, not only for the glamour factor but for the fact that they could get close to the stage without actually touching anyone else’s sweat.

But it turns out that being a photographer was a lot more work than I’d thought. First of all, I was one of the only women in the photo pit. And while every photographer seemed to have a larger lens protruding from his dangling camera than the next, I was carrying my dinky $100 Canon. I felt a little like the only boy in the locker room who hadn’t hit puberty — or, at least, how I’d imagine it to be.

Once the music started, the pit filled up with other photographers. I was glad to see more women, until I realized that there were so many photographers that I couldn’t get a decent shot without a head or hand or camera in the way. It was even worse for Depeche Mode, where a row of photographers were on risers in front of me. I was lucky if I could see David Gahan’s foot, much less get a powerful photo of him.

By the time three songs had passed and I was forced back out the chute and into the field, I was exhausted from all the striving and concentrating and fighting off testosterone.

So I went home. Halfway through the Depeche Mode set, I decided it was more important to beat the traffic than to see Daft Punk close out the Sahara tent. Maybe I’m too old for this. Maybe I didn’t plan well enough. Or maybe Coachella is best left to the professionals: those with the newest driver’s licenses, those with VIP passes not connected to actually working the event, and those with the biggest lenses. Don’t get me wrong — I still love Coachella. I just think I like the DVD better than the real thing.

 

May 05, 2006 in Essays, Music, Pop Culture, SB Independent, VC Reporter, Writing | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)

My First Hyphen

It's finally happened. I can officially use a hyphen in my job title that doesn't link "writer" to anything in the service industry. As of today, I'm now Molly Freedenberg, writer-photographer.

(Or maybe it's My First Slash, since writer/photographer looks better.)

Today my first photograph was published in the VC Reporter. This photo right here:

Coachella_chanmarshallsshoesExcept imagine it turned 90 degrees
clockwise.




Yes, I know what you're thinking. A published photographer should know how to turn her blog photos right-side-up. And should know how to take pictures of a rock star (that's Chan Marshall from Cat Power) that actually includes her face. And no, this is not, perhaps, the most stunning piece of composition that's ever spilled from the memory card of a semi-cheap digital camera.

But you know what it IS? Proof that I got really fucking close to the stage at Coachella. And an illustration for the stories that are in the next post. Guess you'll just have to go there to find out, mmmm?

May 05, 2006 in Molly Freedenberg, photographer, Music, VC Reporter | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBack (0)

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Recent Posts

  • Kate and Molly: The Wedding
  • ... And disappointment for all
  • My other roommate's a rockstar too
  • Don't you ever write anything?
  • Teaching George how to embed videos
  • Does it mean there's something wrong with me
  • What's cracking me up this week
  • Where the fuck have YOU been?
  • The Cribs
  • Alanis does My Humps.
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